The Weirdo(s) Across the Street

I don't know why, but the house across the street from me has always been occupied by weirdos.

I live in a neighborhood of smallish but well-kept homes. Though I don't always know names, I do know most of my neighbors by sight. For the most part, they're a friendly bunch, but not super-nosy which I very much appreciate. I know if I have a problem, I could knock on almost anyone's door and they'd help if they could. That, to me, is the definition of being a good neighborhoo. The consistent exception, however, is the house directly across the street.

In the seven years I've lived here, four different sets of people have occupied it which is unusual. I can't think of any other house in the 'hood with such a high turnover. When I moved in, Carrie and Michael lived there. They were okay, although Michael used to make me crazy when he'd park on my side of the street close enough to the edge of my driveway to almost block me in. After they got married and moved out, the man I refer to "No eyebrow guy" took over ownership. To my nearsighted eyes he looked cute enough and appeared to be single, so one day when he was washing his car in the driveway I summoned all of my courage and walked over to introduce myself. As soon as I got his attention and we began talking I realized that I couldn't focus on anything other than the fact that where his eyebrows should've been was a blank canvas. He appeared to be in his 30s, had an athletic build, and a full head of dark hair which would seem to preclude illness, but had absolutely nothing above his eyes except forehead. I don't know if they never existed or had been been burned off or overplucked, but it freaked me out. Though he wasn't super-friendly toward me (he probably noticed my stare), he took really good care of that house. In addition to updating the bathroom and kitchen appliances all by himself, in one afternoon he re-landscaped the front yard, adding concrete block and all sorts of interesting shrubs and grasses. After two years or so, he moved out and a 20-something single girl moved in. She was nice enough, but the odd thing about her is that she didn't even occupy the house a year before the house went back on the market and was purchased by the current weirdo.

I don't have a clue about this dude's story. The only time he's ever outside is when he cuts the grass in his baggy gray sweatpants and oversized white t-shirt. As far as I can tell, he does no other yardwork whatsoever-- not even to pick up branches that have fallen after a storm. His curtains and blinds are always closed, and his front door is usually shut tight despite the fact that he has a glass storm door. But the oddest thing about him is his reaction to me. For reasons I can't explain, he seems to be intimidated by me. If we happen to be walking up our driveways at the same time (our driveways are directly across from one another), he'll turn back toward his house before we reach the end. If I'm in my yard when he drives up in his car-- and I know he sees me-- he'll turn into his drive with nary a wave or nod. And the other day as my dog and I were walking up the street toward my house at the completion of our walk, the dude started to open his front door to get the mail but stopped and went back inside when he saw me approach. No, I'm not a stalker and I swear I'm not being paranoid. I've had absolutely no interaction with this guy and yet he seems to be avoiding me like the plague. Of all the odd people who have lived in the house prior, this guy takes the cake as the oddest of them all.

Wonder how long this weirdo will last before the he moves on and the next oddball moves in? The clock is ticking...

It's A Dog's Life

Brace yourselves: I just got back from taking my dog for a drive.

No, I didn't have anywhere in particular I needed to go, but after being homebound all day (except for a walk early this morning) my dog was suffering terribly from cabin fever. Keep in mind that this is a dog who is used to seeing the world outside of my house almost every single day. When I was working, each morning I'd load him into the car and take him to "doggie daycare" (otherwise known as my mom's) and collect him on my way home. That's two car rides a day, 10 per week, 40 per month, etc. This is a dog whose used to being shuttled back and forth, and truthfully, since I quit my job I think he's become a little depressed. To add to his dilemma, we haven't been able to walk as much as I'd like because: a) it is often way too hot and humid even in the early morning and late evening hours; b) my dog is black and tends to bake in the blazing summer sun fairly quickly; and c) he sprained one of his front paws this weekend jumping off a three foot wall during a walk (my bad, not his. I should've been paying better attention). So as a prize for being the sweetest, most understanding, and most handsome dog in the world I took him for a little drive around town. And I swear he smiled his sweet doggie smile the whole time.

Has it really been 20 years????

My 20th high school reunion is coming up in a few months, and as one of the pre-gathering tasks the reunion committee asked each of us to update our theme songs. My theme song back then was "When the Blues Come Marching In" , a surprisingly accurate choice considering a) I was a huge fan of the St. Louis Blues hockey team at the time and b) it was chosen by the yearbook committee and not by me. The opportunity to come up with my own song was one I relished and agonized over for more than a month: Once again, the paralysis I experience when overwhelmed with choices (even seemingly minor ones) reared its ugly head. In high school my friends and I were all about Depeche Mode, Def Leppard, and the Dead Milkmen and believed that the sound produced was far more important that the words. These day my music of choice is exclusively country, a genre that I never even considered back then. The CD player in my car is loaded with Kenny Chesney, Brooks & Dunn, and Toby Keith, all of whom, in my opinion, consistently put engaging short stories to music. I think that's why I like these artists more than Beyonce, Maroon 5, and Christina Aguillera-- because their songs describe situations and emotions we've all experienced and are performed by people who look real. But I digress. After careful consideration (and a few hours pouring over iTunes) my updated them song is... drumroll, please... Toby Keith's "How Do You Like Me Now?" Though I know few of my former classmates will be familiar with the rest of the song, I believe that the title is perfect for a reunion with people I haven't seen in 20 years. It'll at least be an icebreaker. I can't wait to see what other songs people chose and for what reasons. The reunion should be a blast.

This is my brain without a job...

Sometimes I feel like my brain is turning to mush.

As much as I'm enjoying taking some time to regain my mental health, there are moments when I feel like I might be going in the opposite direction. Daytime is the toughest. All my friends work (not a trust fund baby in the bunch), so there are days when the only human contact I have is with the salespeople at the stores I frequent. It's totally bizarre. Apparently I need to do a better job of scheduling activities which will not only keep me entertained, but make me feel that I'm using my time off productively. Goodness knows when I'll get this kind of time off again.

It is interesting to note that I don't miss my old job at all. I miss the interaction with some of my co-workers, but not the job itself. I have no regrets about leaving it behind since I was completely burned out, but I do have serious concerns about where I go from here. I've told so many people that I left real estate to find my "passion", but what if I can't? What if I have to take a job just to take a job? I guess it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but it would be a downer. The mere thought of having to accept a job like the one I just left should inspire me to get my arse in gear and start peeling back the onion in earnest.

One possibility

Even though I'm not sure I want children of my own, I'm thinking that I might like to work with them. Prior to my real estate career, I was a graduate student working toward my Master's in Deaf Education. Though I failed to graduate for a variety of reasons-- including my own immaturity-- I've never regretted the time I spent trying. I LOVED the deaf children at the school. I don't know if it had anything to do with their being deaf, or if it was just their personalities, or maybe a combination of both. Regardless, it has been about 12 years since I bottomed out of the program and I still wonder how my former students are doing. That's got to be a sign, doesn't it? I'm not interested in trying to get through the deaf education program again, but perhaps working in a support/administrative role at the school or another like it in my area. I certainly feel passionate about the oral deaf population, and that's major. I want my next career to be in a field that matters to me. I don't seem to be able to offset a mind-numbing job with a rich personal life because I'm by nature a homebody, so when I'm at work I need and want to feel like what I'm doing is making a difference. Working with children certainly fits that bill. Hmmm...

Having trouble getting started...

I was in real estate for almost 12 years. It wasn't intentional. I had just burned out of grad school, needed a job, and answered an ad in the classifieds for an office manager of a local real estate company. After 1 1/2 years there, I moved on to become the transaction manager for a consistent top producer in my area. Though I'm licensed (a requirement of the job), I knew early on that I never wanted to sell real estate. As the head of my household (a select group that includes me and my dog), financial stability is crucial. I've seen too many agents stress about when the next commission check is coming in, and it never looked like much fun. Yes sirree, in order to maintain my mental health I definitely need a steady income. So, commission- based sales are definitely out of the running as my next career. At least I can scratch one off the list.

Ah, the list. What list, you may ask. Actually, there is no list. Yet. One of the things I'm supposed to be doing during my two-month sabbatical (that is now almost halfway over-- yikers!) is to make a list of all of the career fields that are of interest to me. I've discovered that this is much easier in theory than in reality. As I mentioned in my first post, my typical reaction to being overwhelmed is paralysis. Having produced absolutely nothing that even resembles a list in the first month of my mental health break is a perfect example of it. What is wrong with me? I know what's wrong. I'm just freaked out by all of the possibilities and need to get over myself. I have to keep reminding myself that it was my choice to quit my steady-paying but monotonous real estate job because I want to find a career that is meaningful and will allow me the opportunity to make my mark in the world. Selfish though it may sound, after I die I want people to know that I existed and at least tried to make the world a little better. Children may not be in the cards for me, so I need to carve out my niche some other way. Finding a meaningful career seems like a good place to start. My main purpose in keeping this blog is to (hopefully) jump-start and fine tune my thinking process as I careen along the unfamiliar road on which I now find myself. Vroom, vroom...

Yikers, what have I done?!!!

I can't believe it has almost been a month since I've last brought in a paycheck. The plan my life coach and I came up with is that I'm taking all of August and September off to regain my mental health before taking on a fun, part-time job beginning in October while simultaneously trying to determine my next career. On a daily basis, not having work to define my days has been a bit tedious, but on a larger scale the time is flying by. Having just returned from a blissful week on the northern Oregon coast with my family has helped pass the time, as well. Lots of sun, sand, and seafood. Not to rub salt in the wounds of those of you workaholics, but in a few weeks I'm headed off again, this time to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I know, I know, I live a tough life ** sigh**.

Honestly, I do have a lot to think about and thank goodness I have a life coach to help me sort it all out. There is no way I'd be able to do what I'm doing without someone objective to help me sort through it and keep me focused. When overwhelmed, I tend to completely shut down and end up doing nothing because of the paralysis. There is no possibility that "L" will let that happen. Adding her to "Team AJ" was the smartest thing I've done of late other than quitting a job with absolutely no room for future growth. Since I have to work for a living (or at least to keep food in my dog's bowl), I want my next career to be one in which I can be proud. Though I certainly appreciate money, making oodles of it isn't the main focus of my seach. I want to do something which helps to better the world in which we live or at least the lives of people who need help. Vague? Yes. But I'm confident that with "L's" help I can narrow it down in the next several months. I want to be the architect of my future.