Stress & The Yellow Canary In The Hat

The other day I was sitting at my laptop, writing a for the blog, when I was rudely interrupted by a chirping noise - coming from my ceiling.

That's never good.

I went to investigate and found nothing. However I did discover the culprit of a very obnoxious - albeit entirely separate - tapping noise. Mr. Woodpecker seems to have opened up spare whittling shop directly under the awning of my house. Unfortunately his hours happen to be exactly whenever I am working/writing/sleeping.

Since then I've decided that there is very much a small bird living inside some little space in the roof of my house. Which frankly, I've come to think, is pretty damn nifty. I like to consider him my little pet. He sits up high and watches me write and throws out little chirps of encouragement. Or so I like to believe. I think he's probably yellow and wears a red and white polka dot hat. My little yellow canary bird in a hat. (Apparently I've graduated from having imaginary friends but not pets. Nice.)

This little bird has also become somewhat of a metaphor for the way I've been thinking about my life lately. He has it all figured out. He probably has a mostly stress-free life. The area I live in is pretty wildlife friendly (the house cats tend to be rather tame and most dogs are kept indoors) so I doubt my little bird is having any Jason Bourne like chase scenes in his day-to-day existence. He has a constant food source. I know this for a fact because every time it rains the entire worm population in the tri-state area congregates on my front sidewalk and sings Christmas carols regardless of the season. Rain today? Yea well: BOOM. WORM SONGTIME.

Plus this bird also has an endless amount of entertainment. He can watch Sammy (the puppy) get chased by Little Brother, Little Sister, and Zoey - the evil dog. He can watch my mom have fits when she can't figure out something that's written in her textbook. And he can also while away his hours watching me at various times curse, hug, pet, and stare dreamily at my laptop (the last one is only when there's a picture of John Krasinski on it. Or something shiny. Or a Kindle.)

And all of this got me to thinking. I want a stress free life. My dentist says that I grind my teeth while I sleep - something to do with stress/how I lay when I sleep/my diet/exercise/the air/allergies and basically anything even remotely medical-ly sounding. However apparently if I was less stressed I would have fewer headaches and pointier teeth so that has become my new goal of late. Less Stress = Utopia Based Lifestyle. Or something like that.

Except that lovely God-like command isn't as easy as it sounds. You know just because the booming voice spouts off one day with "BE LESS STRESSED OR I WILL SMITE YOU IN SUCH A WAY THAT YOU WILL BE EVEN MORE STRESSED MWAHAHAHA" doesn't mean I can just magically poof and be all happy go lucky. Because, frankly, my life is a bit stressful.

Not that I'm not completely blessed. Because I am. I'm young, I have pretty great health, I have a family and friends that adore me, and I'm lucky enough to have found an amazing man who cares about me as much as I care about him. So overall I try really hard not to complain. But when it comes to matters like the economy, figuring out how to pay for college, trying to write my book, and ultimately finding some way to move back down to Salt Lake to be closer to the fiance things tend to get a bit overwhelming - and as a result - stressful.

So what I would really like is to be like my little bird that sits up in the ceiling watching things with a detached perspective. It doesn't bother him if maybe my website isn't working one day or if I didn't manage to get up as many posts as I would have liked one week. He's just happy to be safe and warm and able to chirp without anyone getting after him (which I've warned my family away from by threat of using the blender at 6 am on a regular basis - you want sleep? the bird stays).

I think the most important thing to remember is that my little bird also doesn't get stressed about being stressed which, remarkably enough, is something I've been known to do. Because when it really comes down to it I'll figure out how to pay for college. I'll get my website up and running soon enough. I'll find a job and an apartment down in Salt Lake in good time. Maybe it wont work out according to my timeline or the way I planned but it will all eventually work out. And that's what really matters.

I think my little yellow canary in the hat is a pretty good example for how I should try to live my life.

Community College

Ok this was not part of my planned post but when I opened up Blogger I somehow accidentally did something nifty with my mouse (its never on purpose) and this little graphic: - the one we Blogger users all know and love as our faithful spelling-fixer-upper - magicked its way down into my post. And I can't just delete it. Look how cute it is! Plus I cant figure out what I did or how I got it down here with me and thus can't replicate the effect and give my little spelling graphic any friends - so instead of being deleted off to Discard-O-Land he's coming along for the ride. I'm sure he feels very special to be the only one of his buddies that got mentioned/placed in a post. Even if I didn't intend it. I have also saved him to my picture folder soooo be sure to be on the lookout for him again. He's too adorable not to come poking back around, looking for more posts to interrupt. I think at some point we'll have to name him. Along with a few other various characters that are trying to weasel their way into my posts.

Anyways! What I really wanted to share will all of you is how much I absolutely cannot stand when I am on the phone and get put on hold/transferred to 8 or 9 various departments and end up talking to a ridiculous amount of people - none of whom seem to know the answer to my question.

I was calling down to one of the community colleges in my state, trying to figure out why I couldn't log into my little See Your School Shit On The Web If We Feel Like Letting You Today thing. Obviously today was not one of those days. I put in my little user name and request a change of password since its been AGES since I had to log in there and - lo and behold - the evil site tells me that my information doesn't match what they have. Well. Last time I checked I knew how to spell my own name. I also happen to know my birth date. (May 14 for those of you that want to send me presents! Like a Kindle! Ohmigod I would looooooooove a Kindle. Apparently you can read blogs and all kinds of fun stuff on them. Not that I expect you guys to send me one since they're like 400 dollars and....this is so not what I'm posting about right now. Damn.) I typed in my little student ID number right too. I checked. Many times! So finally I get the bright idea to call up the little student help center and after a gazillion rings some lady who is clearly not a student, and doesn't care for the breed either, answers in the most nasally voice I have ever heard.

"Yes?"

Yea - no "Student Help Center this is *insert creepy name here*" Just a "yes?" Great way to start off.

"Um for some reason I cant seem to log into your website. I have all my information and I've tried it several times so I know I'm putting it in right. It says it doesn't match what's in your records. Is there any way you can tell me what information you guys have so I can get it changed?

"Well are you putting it all in there right?

.... Uh...did I NOT JUST SAY THAT?! "Yes. I'm doing it right" (*side note: This is where Crayon would say "That's What She Said!" and get this cute smug look on his ridiculously handsome face.)

"Well I guess something don't match what our Data Center has on ya"

Lady. I just said that. Without a Utahan accent that could make birds fly into walls.

"Yes I'm positive that everything I've entered is correct."

"Well I'ma transfer you to the Data Center now."

"Great. Thanks" *terribly 1990's hold music ensues - please god let me avoid hearing "Holiday" by Madonna ever again*

"Data Center" Wow. A greeting. Must be a normal guy.

"Hi I was having trouble logging into the web page and-"

"OhyouneedtheStudentHelpCenterforthatI'lltransferyou!" I can hardly understand what the dude said because he was in such a rush to spit out his words and get me off the phone that his tongue has probably collapsed like a fat cat on a windowsill after spending too much effort chasing the neighbors canary bird. Had the guy even listened to me he would have known that NO - I do not need the Student Help Center or Ms. Utah Nasal back there who is probably sitting at her desk eating pork rinds while laughing about me, the poor girl who will surely never find her way out of this tangled maze of phone tag.

"Yeeeeeesssssss" She draws it out in this annoyed tone of voice. God forbid we have to answer the phone TWICE in an hour.

"Hi - look its me again, the Data Center transferred me back here. I really need to get that information changed so I can log in to the website."

"Oh. Well how come you didn't say so? I haaave a computer."

Wow. Is that what that big square thing sitting on your desk is? Thank you Nancy Drew now I can return to my life with the piece of mind that somewhere in the world there is a person with the deductive abilities to realize that she, like every other office worker on the planet, has a computer available to use at her disposal. This is the part where I seriously considered reaching through the phone and strangling this woman.

"Lovely." (Which is code in my language for "You stupid stupid person.") "So can we change that then?" I give her all my info, wondering if this woman is smart enough to attempt Identity Theft.

*long awkward pause*

"Um hello?" There is no way this lady hung up on me. So help me god I will drive down to Salt Lake and raise hell in the Student Help Center if I must.

"I'm getting it, hold on." Yea - as if she's the one who should be impatient.

"Well it looks like they didn't have your Social Security number so they made one up for ya and that's why you cant log in. So you WEREN'T puttin' all your stuff in right."

"I'm sorry, hold on. They made up a Social Security number for me? They just made one up?"

"That's our policy"

"Your policy is to make up peoples information if you don't have it? Right ok. Well can you give it to me so I can try logging in with that number."

"I'm sorry I cant give out Social Security numbers over the phone." You have got to be kidding me.

"It's not real! It's not a social - its just made up numbers!" I say in disbelief. "Well can I change it and put mine in there instead?"

"No you have to come do that here in person. I don't do that over the phone." (*Another "That's What She Said" for Crayon)

"Well then how am I supposed to get into my account?"

"Here I'll give you the number." Uh - ok? Did we not just establish that we cant do that? I want to say something snotty but instead I remain quiet in case this lady's bipolar memory starts coming back. She gives me my little number and I hang up, thanking her for some unknown reason, to which she promptly slams the phone down on the receiver, as if I'm some sort of huge inconvenience to her. All this for the sake of viewing my transcripts.

I type my little number in, wait patiently for it to load...and....YES! IGOTONTHESTUPIDWEBSITE-NEENERNEENERNEENER!

Only to find out there's a hold on my account which: prevents me from viewing my transcripts.

So now I have to call the Accounts Department, which I promptly do. Only to find out that Monotone Brittany only works from 9-4. It's currently 3:15. Apparently, since I keep getting nothing but her voicemail - leading me to believe she's gone home an hour early, the entire community college is a magnet for incompetence and anti-work syndrome.

I may have to burn it to the ground. If only to improve the gene pool by doing so.

This is why I'm a writer. So that I don't have to deal with the massive amount of insane people that occupy this state on a daily basis.

Alright. Off to go call them again. *Hums "Holiday"*

Decisions Decisions...

How many chances do we get in life? How many real, true opportunities do we get to have the things we want - to be the person we want? How many of us spend 40+ hours a week at a job we aren't in love with? We give the best 50 years of our life to a bunch of companies with CEO's that spend their time vacationing in the Hamptons - while we try and rid ourselves of cubicle fever with potted plants and magazine clippings of better places. I'm young enough that maybe I cant testify to the true pain of watching years of my life go by while I wonder why I haven't gotten around to doing things I want to do. I haven't had to stop and ask why I haven't spent time traveling yet, or why I haven't bought my dream home, or why I haven't pursued that lifelong passion of mine. Isn't that the reason we start working - to be able to afford that happy lifestyle? Yet when that lifestyle finally becomes a reality (for a lucky, hardworking, financially scrupulous few) its too late to really enjoy it.

How many people spend their lives in a profession they don't have a real interest in because they aren't really interested in anything? The childhood fantasy of what you want to be when you "grow up" becomes a dreaded nightmare for the college student. At a time in our lives when we are still overwhelmed with the thought of cable bills, student loans, and that dwindling box of Top Ramen, we are expected to magically be able to predict our values and interests for, at least, the next 30 years. Choose your occupation - for the rest of your life? How many of us would be happy with the option of one meal or one outfit for the rest of our lives? Maybe that's a bit dramatic, after all doesn't the average person change their career twice now? That might have worked fifty years ago - but it doesn't work now. I at least want more.

To clarify a little here my motivation for writing about this comes from several sources. First of all I'm graduating in a few months - and that's pretty fucking scary. People say it gets easier but I think that if everyone was honest with themselves they'd realize that's not really the case. It never gets easier to stick with something day after day if you don't love it. And as a senior that's the big topic of conversation:

"So what are you going to do after you graduate?"
"What kind of degree are you going to get?"
"Are you looking at jobs?"
"Do you know what you want to do with your life?"

I don't know. I don't know enough about myself, about money, about love, about life, and about the world to have any idea of what I want to do until I'm too old and decrepit to keep playing the game.

Secondly a lot of my worry comes from watching my mother. My mother is such a strong, beautiful, smart woman - but I don't think she's ever been really happy with her career. I've watched her hold all sorts of jobs (often more than one at a time) - but that's all they ever really were. Just jobs. Not careers. Not goals. Not passion's. Just jobs. She worked so hard for my brother, sister, and I and while I respect that and couldn't be any more grateful to her I don't want to follow the same path. I want to wake up every morning excited to do work I love. I want to buy a home with money I've earned doing something that excites and ignites me. Buyers remorse comes from a fear of wasting money - and a fear of wasted money stems from the thought that you have to endure even more to make that money back.

So here's the bottom line. I refuse to be one of those people. I wont spend my lifetime making someone else rich off my time, energy, and creativity. I wont worry about money. I wont dread Mondays and live for the weekends. I will make myself wealthy. I will spend each day doing work I believe in. I will support myself doing only things I love and enjoy. I will travel and have a high quality of life now - not later. I'm going to live my life as I please - and I'll be damned if I don't enjoy every minute of it.

If anyone, and I mean anyone who feels the same is reading I'd like to hear your thoughts.

More soon.

Lizzy