Lovely and Amazing: The State of the Megster and Everything Else

It has been brought to my attention by no fewer than four of you that I’ve failed to write in as many months. I realize that my displaced focus on things such as work, family, friends and travel, ahem – I mean life, is a problem.

I also realize that beginning with a confession (and perhaps an apology, jury’s still out) is not exactly the most effective way to keep you interested. However, I am sincerely sorry (oh, there it is!) that obligations have led me astray and vow to not keep you waiting as long for the next.

At least I’ll close the window at three months which would buy me some time well into spring.

It only seems fitting.

The constitution requires the president to report “from time-to-time” resulting in an annual State of the Union address. But he also gives a weekly radio announcement. Not that anyone but a dinosaur knows what that is, but at least it’s some way for him to say he’s trying.

In my opinion, that’s the purpose of Facebook status updates.

For example, his should read:

“Failed the left. Pissed off the right. Can’t employ the middle. Think I’ll have a cigarette.”

I can relate.

I’ve tried scrolling through my status updates in order to inform this amazing compilation of dribble, but selecting “older entries” repeatedly is tiresome. I wish there were a more efficient way to archive them, so I’ll just have to go off memory alone.

DEAR GOD, WHAT DID WE DO BEFORE FACEBOOK?

Henceforth, an irregular account of the last four months.

Economy

The state of my economy here in Vermont seems stable enough. I have a good job and for that I’m grateful.

However, the concept of home ownership remains seriously foreign to me. So I boosted the Winooski economy by renting there beginning in December. The local dining establishments know my take-out orders by heart and me by name. The neighboring pizzeria owner even wants to lease me a home (add that to “things that would’ve been great to know months ago.”)

Soon enough I’ll be contributing to the pet industry when I procure my own canine. Of what breed, I’m unsure, unless my buddy Skeet comes to live with me. But I’m sure I’ll gladly support many a pet store and doggie daycare employee’s paycheck.

And I cannot wait!

Education

The Continuing Education of the Megster, well, continues. I’ve recently taken up ice skating for the first time since childhood and I’ll tell you what.

That shit ain’t easy.

If I can just stay off the toe-pick, I’ll avoid face-planting in front of toddlers and barely pubescent teens on first dates. I circle the rink for an hour and a half and can barely walk when finished. I even have a few beautiful bruises to boast.

It’s exhilarating and fun to take up something new (again) and feel like you accomplished something. Now you know where to find me every Sunday afternoon.

My continuing education of life isn’t always rosy, though. It saddens me still that I live in the THRIVING METROPOLIS of Burlington, unofficial capitol of Vermont, and live among poverty. There are plenty of non-profits here addressing the issues, but as the seat of social services, we’re inundated with the destitute.

I’ve never quite understood this.

I’m not elitist by any means, but the climate alone seems like a massive deterrent, and I just don’t understand the attraction. I would never dare to call for segregation, but it is bothersome when I can’t go about normal endeavors without (literally)stumbling over a person in desperate need.

I’ve wrestled with this for months and months. I’ve not personally participated in the organizations to help. I’ve supported them when work calls for it. I’ve even cursed the reality.

This is an extremely uncomfortable departure from my life in Austin, serving the homeless with my friends for no other reason than to inspire hope and happiness inside darkened hearts – if only for a moment.

I’ve had to challenge myself recently to get involved. And if not formally, to at least summon up the compassion and empathy long lost since I’ve been here. We’ll see what I’m capable of next.

Deficit

Other than being morally bankrupt a time or three – but always in good fun – I’ve found that I’m deficient of poundage. (In)significant events in the latter part of 2010 pushed me to a place mentally for which I pined.

Without a second thought, I began an exercise and dietary regimen that I’ve come to love and can’t live without. It took serious, blind commitment, but I did it. I’m enjoying the diverse schedule of activities and am benefitting from 30 less el bees.

The only downfall is shopping.

Yes.

Shopping. I know you just choked on your late-afternoon beverage of choice at the thought of me deploring shopping.

But any woman who’s attempted to find the perfect pair of jeans can relate. It’s a noble endeavor, I assure you, but I’m just grateful for lax return policies. I’ve settled on two pairs recently. That was enough to call for the Twinkies.

Almost.

Hopefully those will be in the wake of my deficiency. (The new jeans, not the twinkies.)

Foreign Affairs

I’ve spent the better part of this winter loving every snow flake, even the ones that paralyze a city (Vermont might be down six hours after a snowfall. Texas goes down for days. Get yer shit together, Little Mexico!)

My favorite foreign activities have become daily adventures. I’ve learned to drive in a blizzard on snow packs. I’ve taken up skiing like it will end tomorrow (which it will at some point but we don’t talk about that.)

I’ve even been traveling a lot, though not anywhere technically foreign, but the west coast could certainly qualify.

I’ve become accustomed to airport security procedure, weather delay policies and the very (decrepit) airports themselves.

Never once did I imagine that I’d become attached to awards systems much like George Clooney in “Up in the Air.” Alas, it has happened. When I have to stay somewhere other than the Marriott or fly something other than JetBlue, I get pissed.

(End first world rant.)

What was previously a foreign concept is now well understood: Packing efficiently. If you have a problem with this like I do, might I suggest new luggage? Something bright and shiny and functional (and not ruined by your own stupid business props) is encouragement enough to travel lighter.

I’ll even go all metaphorical on you and say my heart is traveling much lighter as well.

I’m in a really good place. A hopeful, happy, busy state of mind and being and it radiates.

Which brings me to my next point.

Healthcare

As a beloved friend said to me, from a very knowledgeable place:

MORE MAKER’S MARK. LESS WORRY.

And that, dear readers, is a TRUE STORY.

I blame Jencoy for introducing me to the precious nectar of Maker’s and coke (even diet, I’m afraid, is a good solution.)

And it cures all ails. If only I could claim each bottle on my health insurance.

(MAKE THAT HAPPEN, OBAMA.)

Partisanship

I’ve never been one to take sides (that’s a lie), though I always have a healthy opinion.

But if there is anything I find myself particularly devoted to, it is the related ideas of love and prayer.

It dawned on me recently that I’ve not prayed or, rather, had a conversation with God, for as long as I can remember - or at least most of the time I've been in Vermont. I prayed in Austin recently and realized it felt so foreign.

And I’m not ok with that.

So I’ll continue to take His side in my head and ask him what the dude flipping out over double rainbows wanted to know, hoping to learn something:

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!

And I’ll continue to be hopelessly devoted to what I’ve learned in the last four (or more) months:

Love them anyway.

Simple as that.

Love.

(And don’t go sending me some stupid-ass brass key ring that spells LOVE. And it is not my password on my email’s trash file.)

It belongs in my every day.

I love those who some say I shouldn’t and do so with grace and dignity in the face of adversity.

I love my family – born or made – endlessly, and know that they are worth every second stolen or earned.

And I have a fervent hope for it.

Love never fails.

Only we do.

So be good to yourself and others.
The Megster