Greenback Shackles

      In the spring, my grandmother gave me about $1000.00 so that I could replace my aging and decaying laptop with something that would keep up with the rigors of my academic load at school.  For the past 6 years, I'd had my heart set on getting certified to teach horseback riding (something that is actually of critical importance for my particular career path).  The way everything turned out, this past summer was when I needed to travel to various parts of the country to partake in a variety of conferences and workshops to complete said certification, which in total cost me $1400.00, if not more.  Then I had to put new tires on my car, had some major repair work done, and before you know it, I was out of money.  That was the smallest number I have seen in my banking account since Middle-school.  Yes, it was that bad.   I had a job, but ALL, literally, ALL, of that money was reserved exclusively for purchasing textbooks this fall.   On top of that, I had to pay for gas for a car that gets 15mpg city.  The only thing that got me through the summer and actually gave me 2 months worth of gas money for the fall was an extensive babysitting gig in mid August.  I used to think that I was good with money, but now I feel both broke and irresponsible.   Don't get me wrong, I was putting the money to a good cause (that certification opportunity was a small window of opportunity that otherwise would have had to waited until 2015)... but even though I worked myself to the bone and made good decisions, I'm left with nothing but student loan debt at the end of the day.

      At a time like this, I would normally turn to my family for help.  My grandmother was very generous to give me the laptop money in the first place, and I cannot bring myself to ask her for more - partially out of pride, and partially because I know she's on a fixed income and has many other grandkids to help take care of.  My dad is losing his job in December, and he still doesn't have a job lined up for January.  My mom teaches 3rd grade, but that money goes straight into my little brother's education.  He has learning disabilities and has to go to a small private school that helps him overcome his challenges - which is very costly.  My sister is in the Lord's army, serving college students and helping them find Jesus.  She raises her entire "salary" through support campaigns.  I can't take money from any of them.  I have no other relatives on whom I can call for financial support.  I am up poor-broke-college-student-creek without a paddle.

Help.

      Normally, when I've run into other situations where I needed something that cost more than $80, I could either pay for it myself out of my savings, ask my parents to pay for it if it was categorised as a "basic need," (like good sneakers for my flat feet) or ask my grandmother for those one-time-only expenses that come out of nowhere but are crucial to my functioning (like unexpected minor car repairs).  But I can't do that any more.  Financial Independence has been thrust upon me, and I've come ill prepared.  I brought pocket change to this high-stakes poker game known as "College Studenthood" and I can't bear the thought of cashing out.

      One of my biggest challenges now is figuring how to pay for the here and now.  I need groceries.  I need school supplies.  Also, I need to figure out how to pay for things that I need to be healthy.  I need to go horseback riding, because after Lyme's its one of the only exercises I can do that doesn't hurt.  Not to mention it keeps me sane.  I need to go see a specialist about my increasing/worsening knee pain.  I need to see a physical therapist about the chronic tension in my jaw/face/neck/chest.  Oh yea, did I mention the fact that even though I'm in remission for Lyme's, I still have chronic pain problems?  

     I don't know how I'm going to do it.  I don't know.

I am not Crazy

Dear readers,
   
      Tonight, I write to you through teary eyes and a mind clouded with anger.  Therefore, please take everything I say here with a grain of salt (or a pinch more salt than usual).  Staying on our current theme of labels and the impact they have on people, I had a first-hand experience this evening that exemplifies a lot of the issues that accompany labels.  In order to uphold the highest confidentiality, I am going to have to swap around some of the details - but rest assured, the story's essence is untouched.

thanks google images!

      This evening, I was with a large group of friends whom I haven't seen seen since the spring.  We all attend a club off campus together on a weekly basis.  As with every year, there were quite a few new members who came in along with the new school year.  Mr. and Mrs. Cook are the wonderful husband and wife duo who run this club, and do a very good job of meeting and greeting all of the students as they pass through the club.  Tonight, however, was strange indeed.  I was bouncing around quite happily (as usual) catching up with a dozen or so returning friends, when I run into Mrs. Cook.

      She says "Oh Melissa, you should meet these girls, they're very sweet.  I asked them 'have you met Crazy Melissa yet?'  I know they'd remember someone as crazy as you! "  
Me:  "Huh? Oh not yet, but I'll be sure to say hello...!"

       That simple exchange cut my soul in half.  I know in my head that Mrs. Cook meant "crazy" as in fun, lively, funky, groovy, and generally a good time to be around kind of person..... but that's not how I took it.  There was something far more weighty in her words than a simple term of endearment, or a passing comment meant in jest, should hold. I was so taken aback and the potency of that one little word that I couldn't even think about it until I got back to my room and had some time by myself.   Why is this bothering me so much?

       That label is not a true reflection of who I am.  I get very wound up at club because I love the people there and the atmosphere there is charges with positive feelings and makes me feel incredibly safe an comfortable.  Because I'm so wound up, I recognize that sometimes my energy can be a bit overwhelming for people who don't know me, or are tired, or are otherwise sticks-in-the-mud.  I get it, it's ok, I'm not every one's cup of tea (I'd rather be their cappuccino anyway).   But Mrs. Cook has no excuse.  I've known her for two years now, gone on many of club trips and been to dozens of club meetings with her before.

 She knows that I calm down into a "normal person" after the initial adrenaline.
 She knows that deep down inside, when the evening winds to a close, that I turn into an introvert and go into my turtle shell.
She knows that being super involved and personable has always been a part of my affectionate personality.
 She knows how much I miss these people and this healthy atmosphere when I'm on campus, how much I crave my time at club.
She knows.... she ... well.... I thought she knew.

I am not crazy.  I'm affectionate.  I'm desperate for attention.  I'm a goofball.  I'm the life of the party.  I'm exuberant in my actions.  I'm dramatic in my reactions.  I'm creative and a broad-minded thinker.

I am also respectable.  I'm in FIVE very high positions of leadership at my school.  People of all ages come to confide in me and to get advice from me.  People of all generations call me wise and mature.  I am a peace-keeper, ambassador, and negotiator.  I am certified in my profession, more than 10 years ahead of my fellow professionals.  A professor just asked me last week if I was going to apply for the Rhodes Scholarship.  I sang in Carnegie Hall in April.

I am not Crazy.  The fact that the only adjective that Mrs. Cooks thought to call me was "crazy" is insulting and hurtful.  I thought she knew me better than that.  I thought she cared about me.  I work very hard to accomplish what I do, and it is barbaric to slap such a one-dimensional, inaccurate, hurtful label on me.  It appears as though Mrs. Cook doesn't know me at all.  I might have spent more time with her than my own mother in the past two years but she still doesn't understand me in the least.

As always, thank you for listening.  Getting this kind of thing out of my system and written out like this is medicine for my soul and a dose of peace to my heart.

I remain always yours,
~Melissa

What is in a name? Chapter 1

Dear reader,
        It pains me to think of how long it's been since I've written you last.  Over four months ago, I said I would start a series on labeling, how powerful it is, and so forth.  I've had many adventures between then and now, leaving us much to catch up on! Oh how I have missed  that respite of writing, that solace found only in composing these sonnet.  Sonnets  - surely an overstatement of what is penned here, but what may come across as the words of one woman (with far too much to say), is to me a reflection of my own soul.  By being allowed to write my mind, I feel as though the world has granted me permission not just to write, but to think freely and pour out my heart in a song without melody.

       Before I disappeared after the second post, I had started a series on titles, their benefits, dangers, and limitations.  Here's the kicker:  I was so caught up in the original name of this blog (the anecdote chronicles) that I never posted!  I never felt as though any one individual story was good enough to write about here, and that was discouraging enough to deter me all summer.  To amend this situation, I've remade the blog from the ground up.  From now on, I promise to write form the heart and not worry about the details too much.   :)

Please welcome, The Unspoken Soul hosted by blogspot!!

Always yours,
Melissa
( ^ thanks, google images! ^  )

What is in a Name? - Pilot

What is in a name?  A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. ~Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

         Well, what is in a name?  Quite a bit, actually.  As much as we would hope to be well educated, unbiased, just people, no one can escape the preconditioning effect that knowing what something is called has on how we perceive it.  Take this blog, for instance; at first, the subheading made it sound like I was going to write only about highly poetic, philosophical lightbulbs that light up my average day.  After more than a month of inactivity, it finally hit me that it was entirely impractical and uninspirational for me to limit myself like that on these pages of cornflower blue.  I love writing such deep inquiries of the everyday, don't get me wrong - but by piling on those lovely stones of description, I accidentally stacked a wall of unintentional boundaries around the Anecdote Chronicles that were never meant to be.
...
   ....
       .... Oops.

          Have no fear, dear reader: this cumbersome title sub-text has been amended to more accurately (and openly) describe what I hope to actually write about here.  Oh frabjous day! Calloo, Calay!  Being able to write freely is rather refreshing.  You should try it sometime!

          This is the rickety intro to a new series centered on names. I left the topic ambiguous on purpose.  See what I did there?   Oh, the cleverness of me!  Some of the things I hope to write about are topics that fascinate me: names of people I know, and how name meanings change how I see them; the naming of animals, places, and inanimate objects; how names can lead to labels, both good and bad, our human need to name and label things; titling infamy, glory, and everything in between; designer labels and the power of presence.  Fear not, the above list is merely a springboard for me to base future stories on, not a set-in-stone cast list of all future players.

Now that the simple yet crippling inhibitor of a narrow sub-title is fixed, the opportunities are endless.  Let the proverbial ink flow!

Until next time,
~Melissa

P.S. - stuff in pink/red is not my original work.  If there isn't a label, that means you should know it from cultural context.   If you still don't get it, go read some books and watch some movies, you'll find them eventually.    :-D

Once Upon a Time...

Epics,
fables,
parables,
and Anecdotes

Everyone has stories that are worth holding onto and enjoying! These stories can be of the most epic adventures or the most quaint encounters. It was that waitress who went to school with your older sister and ended up shooting the breeze with you during her break.  That time when you stumbled upon Lewis Carol's  poem The Jabberwocky, which sparked a conversation about the true meaning of heroism at the lunch table. It was when you sang karaoke in front for a packed house and nailed every song, surprising the audience and even yourself.  Or even that day when you were making faces back and for with the passengers of the car next to you at a stop light, showing you the Human Connection we all desire in this world of distant communication.

After writing a blog about my struggle with Lyme's disease (http://lifeandotherailments.blogspot.com/ ), I started to see just how much I love writing about something that may look simple from the outside, opening it up, and exploring all of the intricacies it may hold.  It almost feels like unwrapping a present for the mind to indulge in!!  Ladies and gentlemen, I give you...

 The Anecdote Chronicles

I can't wait for the adventures to begin.  ^,^
Affectionately yours,
~Melissa