It’s been a good day so far. I woke up after dreaming that I was at an art camp. I think I dreamed this because I read this last night before I went to bed. Anyhoe, I was at this art camp, and I needed supplies, and then I stumbled across a supply room that didn’t have anything I needed. So I think I gave up on art and went to the cafeteria. And I guess it was parents’ weekend at art camp or something because everybody’s families were there. And the brother of the guy in front of me was way cute and flirting with me. And as I was flirting back, my mom walked up and got in line with me. And then the cute guy asked me if I wanted to go eat candy in his truck with him, and I said, “Yes, yes I do, only I’m not so sure about the truck. But I’ll sit on a bench with you or something.”

Then I woke up and thought, I love it when cute guys find me desirable. Good dream.

Then I tried to scan some documents that prove my relationship to George Washington (yes THE George Washington) and my descent from a 12th century British king, but alas, I couldn’t get Whitney’s scanner to work, so I just read through the documents for a while, and that’s how I found out I’m related to G.W. and Ynir King of Gwentland.

Then I tweeted about it.

Then I wrote an article about two-letter Scrabble words that will probably not help me beat Whitney or my mom or the Beattys (or anyone else for that matter) at Scrabble. It’s the spatial aspect I find challenging, not the words. I can make some words. I just don’t know where to put them. You have to be good at words AND Tetris to dominate in Scrabble, and I am unfortunately only gifted in the former.

But the article is done.

So then I made some Punjab Choley and couscous for lunch and watched 30 Rock for a little while, which was, of course, wonderful. It was the one where Liz follows Floyd into the AA meeting where he spills his guts about his trust issues, and then she tells him all her weird stuff to make it up to him.

And she has some WEIRD stuff.

And while I was watching 30 Rock, a Census2010 worker came to the door to ask me some questions about the occupants of this house on April 1, which I answered not knowing that L-Josh had already mailed in their Census2010 form. So I don’t know why he had to come over here and interrupt my 30 Rock/catch me still in my jabambas at 2:30 in the p.m., but I’ve decided that if anyone catches me not yet dressed that late in the day again, I’m just going to open the door saying, “I’m a freelancer. I work from home. I have actually earned money today.”

Or I could just shower and get dressed in the morning.

Then I took a shower, and while I was in there, I had a revelation about the plot of my Neil Diamond musical, I Am…I Said. I can’t tell you about it yet because it’s still not fully formed, but I CAN say that things have been enormously simplified, and the main character and I now have a lot more in common, which is going to make it much easier to write.

And also, I’m clean.

I realized this morning that I’ve been neglecting my questions lately. I’m trying to find a balance between answering those and just telling you fun stories about what’s happening. For the most part, there aren’t a lot of fun stories about what’s happening because my days are spent sitting on my couch, writing articles, and then driving half an hour to teach. And sometimes after I drive the 30 minutes to teach, there are no students. So…yeah. The questions are really more interesting than my life. All of that is about to change, but I’m not ready to make a formal announcement just yet, so hang in there, internet, and let’s talk about time travel.

Presuming you had a time machine what’s the stupidest and most dangerous thing you would probably do with it, despite having answered this question and having labeled it as both stupid and dangerous?

Well, I think time travel in general is definitely dangerous and probably stupid. I mean, Marty McFly’s hand disappeared when his mom was slow dancing/struggling with Biff, and his dad was too wussy to step in. But that’s what you risk when you meddle in your parents’ high school lives. My parents didn’t go to high school together, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that, but if we’ve learned anything from Back to the Future, it’s that you don’t screw around with the space-time continuum. Doing so is both stupid and dangerous, and you could lose a hand in the middle of your guitar solo.

However, there are a few things I’d like to see happening:

• my parents’ wedding – There is no video footage available that I know of. I assume it’s because video cameras were only for TV/film studios in the early 70s.
• me as a baby – There are not a lot of pictures of me as a baby that I know of, and I don’t really remember anything before I started school, and even then, it’s all pretty hazy until about 5th grade. I’m sure my mom could tell us what I was like, but it would be way cuter to see tiny me in action. Unless I was a jerk. Was I a jerk?
• my ancestors coming to the U.S. – My sister is making a massive family tree for our reunion this year, and I’m sure she’d love an eye-witness account of this. Plus, y’all know how much I love to travel, but to be ON THE BOAT with them, knowing what the country is going to become generations down the line, and seeing what it was like back then…man, that would be awesome.
• Beethoven playing his own stuff

All of those things, I just want to witness. I don’t necessarily have to be a participant in history for those. But here are some things I would want to do:

• meet Jane Austen
• hang out with the Beatles before they were famous, and teach them all the Monkees’ songs before the Monkees even form a band (just to be a mischievous punk, not because I have anything against the Monkees)
• follow Jesus, like literally, in person, walking in the dirt (and the rocks, and the…)
• convince Amy Grant that “Baby, Baby” is a bad idea
• convince John Mayer not to record half of his songs
• stop Shutter Island from being filmed, and convince Leo to do a movie that requires more shirtlessness
• convince myself to go vegetarian in college
• introduce myself to Mediterranean food much sooner (hummus, falafel, stuffed grape leaves, etc.)
• smuggle slaves to free states
• smuggle Jews to safety during WWII
• invent leg warmers before anyone else
• invent velcro

Like I said, I think time travel in general would be pretty stupid and dangerous, so I don’t know which of these things is the worst. I’ll let y’all be the judge as to exactly which thing is the stupidest/most dangerous and/or which is the likeliest to cause me to lose appendages. What would YOU do with a time machine?

And just like that, my 20s are over. Man, what an awesome decade. I’m going to try to do a recap of all my 20s birthdays and hit the highlights of some of the incredible things I’ve had the opportunity to do in the last ten years. I’m old, though, so I might not remember all of it, but I’ll give it my best.

20

My 20th birthday was also known as “Princess Day.” In college, we started calling all of our birthdays Princess Day, and we’d wear tiaras and sashes and be treated like princesses. So I think that year, my friend Rachel made like she was going to take me to dinner at Chili’s, but then when we got there, we were “hijacked” in the parking lot by Becky and Faith and taken somewhere else instead (Applebee’s maybe – Chili’s was just too crowded for our large party). And then after dinner, they took me roller skating. You remember that, right, Laura Jenny?

Other than that, 20 was not a very remarkable year, although I think it was the year I did that deviance project for my sociology class – the one where I dressed up like some kind of cracked out super pirate (of the ECU pirates) and ran around downtown handing out candy and doing body builder muscle poses in the elevator of that apartment building.

It was also the year that I met my friend Andy, with whom I shared the most horrific moving adventure ever. Amazingly, we are still friends.

21

By my 21st birthday, my parents had moved from WILKESBORO!!!!! to New Bern, which was only about an hour’s drive from ECU, so my mom came to town for that one, and she and all my friends and I went out to eat at Red Lobster (then one of my favorite places on earth), where I was COVERED in toilet paper by the semi-psychotic waiter who was responsible for celebrating the birthdays. He dressed up like the Gorton’s Fisherman, covered the birthday girl or boy in an entire roll of toilet paper and sang birthday songs through a megaphone – songs like, “Who’s got a birthday? Who? Who? Who? Who?” which was, of course, an adaptation of the Baha Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out?”

That year was also the year I decided not to work at Caswell again, regretted it, and was down there every chance I got. That was the year of 9-11, and just a few months after 9-11, I decided to leave the country for the first time and go on a mission trip to Honduras. I don’t think anybody saw that decision coming. I had several friends who’d gone to Kenya (while I was not working at Caswell), and when they came back, they all came to me individually and told me I needed to go overseas, and y’all are not going to believe me, but my response to all of them was, “Nope. I’m fine right here with my indoor plumbing and my familiar foods. I’m not going anywhere. I’ma stay right here in the U.S. of A.”

And then one very normal day, I was sitting in the computer lab in the psyc building at ECU, and plain as day, as though someone were standing right over my shoulder, I heard, “Go to Honduras.” I stopped, my whole body stiffened, and (almost out loud, but not because I didn’t want everyone to think I was crazy, so just in my mind) I replied, “Come again?” And the voice said, “You heard me.” And just like that, my world travels began, but not until…

22

I have no idea what I did on my 22nd birthday. I remember that being sort of a rough time. It was my last semester in college, and there was just a lot going on. I’m sure it was celebrated. I just don’t remember how. But to continue the story started just a moment ago, that was the year I left the country for the first time. It was also the year I decided what I wanted to be when I grew up. It’s sort of a long story that I’ll share with you in person if you want to know, but by the time I got back from Honduras, I knew I wanted to pursue ESL as a career, and by Christmas of that year, I’d been accepted to NYU’s graduate program. And THAT is a day I’ll never forget. I’d gone home for lunch and checked the mail on my way back out to work. When I opened the envelope and saw the word “Congratulations,” I almost drove off the road. I just couldn’t believe it. And then I started calling everyone I knew to tell them about it. It was a good day.

23

I’m not sure how we celebrated 23 either. I was living in Winterville with my sister and hanging out with Collice and Hilary a lot, so they might have all been involved in the celebration. I just don’t remember what we did.

Anyhoe, that year, I left the country for the second time, had my wisdom teeth removed, moved to New York City, drank alcohol for the first time and got my nose pierced.

24

In grad school, I got involved with the Navigators, a campus ministry similar to InterVarsity, with which I was involved in undergrad. A week or two before I turned 24, the Navigators went on a weekend retreat/conference in upstate NY, and I just had the best time ever. For my birthday, I asked to go to Winter Conference again, and we sort of did have a little mini version of it, which was really nice. And then we sang karaoke. But my clearest memory from that night was Mike and Sonja dragging me, running, through the streets of NYC yelling, “IT’S HER BIRTHDAY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY BETH!! BIRTHDAY GIRL COMING THROUGH!!” So fun.

That year, I:

• started blogging
• left the country for the third time to backpack Europe and study Spanish in Spain (see any entry from late June-early August 2004)
• resolved not to move back to NC
• decided to move back to NC
• spent New Year’s in San Francisco
• moved back to NC

25

For my 25th birthday, Laura Jenny (aka Marieke, aka Partner) and Jason Jones took me to Bojangles. Then we went back to Jason’s house, where they had a cake for me, and Jason made very strong margaritas, and we all decided it would be better to watch a few episodes of Knight Rider before driving home.

Starting that year and continuing for the next few, we had a lot of fun making the dirtydish. There’s not much activity there any more, but I was and still am very grateful for what it did for my writing. It gave me an outlet and the confidence I needed to put my stuff out there for a new audience to read. Thanks, ddo.

And we’ll just hurry things along by saying I’ve left the country at least once a year since that first time. When I was 25, H(P)M and I went to Paris. That was also the year Emily Furr Hogan and I spent New Year’s in Times Square, which was SO fun.

26

No idea. I didn’t even blog about it. I probably went to Chili’s. This might have been the year I had bangs, so it’s possible that I blocked it out. However, this was definitely the year I flew to London to stay with Ann and surprise DLF for New Year’s. Oh what fun we had!!

27

My life in Raleigh by this point had reached a level of autopilot where I was almost curled up in the back napping. I knew I needed some sort of adventure, so just before I turned 27, I signed up for my first Avon Walk. It helped. It also got me to the gym, where the Cutie Von Hottenstein encounters began, which culminated in the weirdest party I’ve ever been to in my life. I also went vegan that year, and oh, that was the year of the most awful semester of my life. I won’t force myself to think about that right now, though.

Gasp!! I don’t think I left the country that year. Did I? If I did, I don’t know where I went. I think I was too busy. Oh my gosh. I need to take two trips this year to make up for it.

I think for my birthday that year, I was supposed to go on a luxurious mountain road trip retreat with some friends, but I became deathly ill and was laid up in bed all weekend. I definitely went to Chili’s, though.And wait, was this the year I had that awesome surprise party, or was that mystery 26? Either way, there was one year when my sweet Brookie, even though she was in the middle of working on her national board certification (which she passed on the first try thank you very much), conspired with Whitney and all them hoes to throw me a surprise party that I almost didn’t go to! Whitney, however, being the genius that she is, got me to go, and it was awesome. Whenever it was.

28

By 28, I’d met Lauren (Josh), whose birthday is the day before mine – HAPPY BIRTHDAY YESTERDAY, BUDDY!!!! – and that was the year we had the photo scavenger hunt party and the Teen Girl Squad cupcakes. This was also the year wherein:

• Brookie moved to Wilmington and got married
• I moved in with Josh and Josh
• I didn’t think I would survive the summer
• I had a boyfriend
• Whitney and I went to Mexico for H(P)M’s wedding
• I became an indentured servant of Wake Tech
• The Rack Pack walked DC

29

We’re almost done!! Last year’s birthday was lots of fun. We went to Bald Head Island for the weekend, played Wii, rode bikes, lounged around and hung out on the beach. It was a much needed get-away for everyone, and nobody wanted to leave and come back home. We powered through, though, and it went on to be a most momentous year. I completed my indentured servitude, moved to Italy for three months, almost moved to Oregon, and moved to Asheville instead.

I’ve traveled well over 13,000 miles in the past year, visited two new countries (Hungary and Austria) and a few old ones, and now, I’m getting ready to head out on what I’m calling my “30 on 40 Roadtrip.” It’s where I turn 30, having three parties in three cities on I-40. And I’m sorry for the rushed ending, but if I don’t get in the shower, pack and leave very soon, I will actually miss my second party – the one in Raleigh tonight.

But one thing before I leave. If my post yesterday made it sound at all like I am disappointed with where my life has gone, that is not the case. I meant to say that high school senior Beth just could not have imagined all of this – all the travel, adventure, friendships, food, passions, love, opportunities and general awesomeness I’ve had the incredible pleasure of experiencing. I can only hope that my 30s out-do my 20s.

HAPPY BETHDAY!!!!!!!!

First of all, my sincerest apologies for my many days of absence following my return from Portland. I feel like I’ve been caught up in one big Christmas party since then, and it’s been a little weird, quite frankly, all around. I went to the grocery store for the first time the other day, and although it’s not that big a grocery store, I was a little overwhelmed by there being a whole building of that size dedicated solely to the sale of food items. I mean, we had Auchan in Italy, which is enormous. It’s sort of like a Super Wal-Mart. They’ve got everything, but because it’s so big, it makes total sense that they have everything, and so it’s not that strange. But the grocery stores – the Conad, the Maxi Piu, the Sisa – are not that large. At least not the ones I went to. So the Food Lion was a tad odd to me. Plus, I understood everything, and I was allowed to make my own purchase (as opposed to the commissary), and my bags didn’t cost me any extra.

I’ve also been driving, which is totally weird after three months of not driving. I’m getting used to it, though. And every new city is a new adventure in what my hair is going to do in response to that city’s water. So far so good, I’d say. It’s a bit large today, but that’s what bobby pins are for, am I right?

Well, that’s enough stalling. Let’s get down to what I came here to tell you. Some of you are going to be very excited, and some of you are going to be very sad, and some of you already know all of this, but I’ll tell you anyway.

Somewhere over the Great Lakes at ungodly o’clock in the morning, when I hated just about everything, I made a decision. Now I know what you’re thinking. That is probably not the best time to make a decision – when you hate everything. But you are wrong. It is the perfect time to make the decision that I made, which was the decision not to move to Portland.

I loved Portland. Please understand that. And if I were looking for a cool place to live for a year or three, it would be just the place, but I’m not looking for just another adventure. I’m looking for a home, and I realized (thanks, Leigh) that if I move somewhere with a plan B already in the back of my mind (like that I could always move back to NC if it doesn’t work out), it’s like I expect it not to work out. But if I move somewhere expecting it to be my home for the next 40 years, then I’ll treat my time there very differently.

I want to go somewhere I can comfortably expect to live for the next 40 years, and Portland is just too far away for that. I would want to see my family more often than I’d be able to, and if (fingers crossed) I were to get married and have kids, I’d want them to know my family better than they’d be able to from 3,000 miles away.

So I think I’m staying in NC. Where, exactly, I don’t know. My top choices are Asheville and Wilmington, and they’re in a pretty tight race right now. I just don’t have a job in either place. Or a place to live. If you have any connections in either place that might be able to find me something that doesn’t involve too much math, drawing or handling of bodily fluids, do let me know and/or put me in touch. And if you have any connections that might be able to find me something in adult ESL or writing/editing, that’s even better.

That’s all for now. I’ll keep you updated on any and all future decisions as they occur. And after Christmas, I’ll tell you about my encounter with the least helpful Best Buy employee EVER. I can’t tell you about it now because it would give away one of my Christmas gifts, and I like surprises.

Well, it’s Labor Day weekend again (cue the music)…

LABOR DAY! LABOR DAY!
SCHOOLS ARE CLOSED AND POOLS ARE OPEN!
LABOR DAY! WHAT’S THERE TO SAY?
DO ALL YOUR SHOPPING…
AT WAL-MART!!!!

My sister just left to drive down to Charleston to see my parents. My other sister will be there too, and I could have gone except I feel like I have about a million things to do before I leave for Italy, and I don’t know where to start. Rather, I don’t really know what the things are that I need to do. If I did, y’all know a to-do list would serve me just fine.

I feel like it’s more mental/emotional preparation than anything else. Packing is easy. You just roll and cram. But there’s sort of an identity crisis that comes with this sort of thing, and I hadn’t really noticed it until just now. I mean, I quit my job – What the WHAT? I quit. I don’t teach any more. I actually subbed this morning, and it was both completely normal and completely weird. My mind is just in this weird limbo between my life a month ago, my temporary life for the moment, and my life in two weeks. There’s not enough time to establish a new “normal” before everything changes again, so here I am, just waiting to get to Italy and figure out what’s “normal” there.

But in the meantime, I still have a week and a half of life to live here, and I don’t want to waste a second of it. I’m already getting weepy every time I think about saying good-bye to everybody, not having an overly excited Dooley gallop toward me with his mouth open for a butt-scratching every time I walk into the Joshes’ place, not sitting around with the Joshes being ridiculous, not playing Rock Band, not hearing Deanna’s weekly “drinkin’ and sexin’” reference, or not going to church on Sundays.

I know, I know. I know we’ll all still chat online, and we’ll keep up via facebook, and I’ll still blog, and I’ve left places before, and it’s only temporary, and I’ll be back in December, and I’m totally being a hormonal girl right now. I guess I just wanted y’all to know that as excited as I am to go, I’ll be sad to leave. And I guess I’m sort of figuring out right before your very eyes that what I need to do to prepare for this trip (in addition to laundry) is hug everybody a lot and re-evaluate where my identity lies…because it’s the sort of thing that ought to be able to go with you no matter where you go and what you do for a living.

So it’s a good weekend to have the house to myself – for reflection, contemplation and perhaps a movie night??? Not all at once. And I promise to put on pants if anybody comes over.

“Better early than never” is not usually my motto. “Better late,” maybe, or perhaps even, “meh…oh well,” but no one has ever accused me of being punctual, much less early.  I had an algebra class in college once that I didn’t care that much about, and I often showed up 20-30 minutes late to the surprise and amusement of my two friends who were in the class with me. I always went. I just went late saying, “Better late than never, eh?” They would just shake their heads in awe. I got a B in the class, and I know, I know, I could have gotten an A, but like I said, I didn’t care that much about it, so meh…oh well.

But today I feel very differently about time and the timeliness with which I do things in life. And I don’t mean today in a general sense as in “these days.” I literally just mean today, August 13, 2009. I will probably still be late to church on Sunday and just barely make it to work on time on Tuesday, and even now, when I should be packing up the car to drive back to Raleigh, I’m pushing it on time, but I feel like a shift is taking place.

I sat down to write this just now without a clue in the world as to what I wanted to say. I just knew I wanted to blog today, and that if I didn’t do it now, I might not do it until very late tonight if at all. But when I typed the title with that mindset, it dawned on me that it is a very good motto to have in life.

Although it hadn’t occurred to me in those words when I made the decision to go to Italy (see my neato countdown clock??), that was my decision. There is never an ideal time to pack up your life and do something outrageous, terrifying and/or amazing, but if you don’t do it now, you might not get the chance. I’m not sure I’m technically “early” in life any more, but it still feels that way, so I’m going to go with it.

I’ve even been considering over the past few days the discipline of waking up early to read or pray or write or stretch or just sit and feel that I am alive. I think it may have something to do with the fact that I’m reading the portion of Eat, Pray, Love where she’s waking up at 3:00 a.m. every day at an ashram in India, and I know that there are many of you who know me well enough to be busting a gut right now at the very notion of me waking up before 7:45. Believe me, I can’t believe I’m thinking about it either. But there are too many days that go by when I don’t read or pray or write or stretch or feel that I am alive, and like I said, better early than never.

We’ll see how it goes. I don’t currently have an action plan or anything to put into motion, and I don’t really want one. I know that conflicts with the very core of discipline, but I think for me, the discipline at first is going to be in doing these things first thing no matter what the clock says when I wake up. And maybe I’ll work on the actual hour I wake up as well.