August 27th, 2007 by Ascelyn
So much to write, but I don’t really know what to write. So: random now, and coherent later. I promise that what follows will be distracted and disorienting and probably make little to no sense, but my fingers are itchy to start writing again, so that’s what I’m going to do. Hmmph.
I’m going to Coronation on Saturday, and as mentioned before, need to have four dolls ready. This shouldn’t be an issue at all, provided I have time to clear off the table, throw the sewing machine on it, and stitch together a few simple pieces of cloth. Really, this shouldn’t be so difficult. However, between my love/hate saga with the church (future entry Number One), the drama with the band, being perpetually headachy again, Jason’s grandfather’s birthday party in Baltimore, my grandfather dying, etc., etc., etc.
I had this great plan when I was still young and innocent. You know, all of three or four years ago. I was going to go to a great school in a city I loved, get a degrees in fields I loved (double major in microbiology and physics, yo), and enter the Navy as a lieutenant working with nuclear propulsion. When I left, I’d have a good bit of money saved up and a pretty impressive resume. I could then travel as much as I wanted before settling down, probably around Pittsburgh or in California. I wanted a job in cancer research, the Human Genome Project, or the Mars Terraforming Project with NASA. I would get a small house, preferably stone, outside of town, where I couldn’t see my closest neighbors but could drive easily into town to pick up bread and milk. I would spend much time in my lab wearing a nice white lab jacket. Friends were in this picture. Family was not, much less marriage. Maybe if I was in the right position, I’d adopt, since just me and no father is better than no parents at all, right?
Well, I got started. I went to Carnegie Mellon, snagged my double major in bio and physics, and had a full scholarship with NROTC (Naval Reserve Officer Training Corps). I feel bad saying that things went downhill from there, but they did.
I found friends. For the first time since I was very, very small (no short jokes, please), I fit in. I belonged at CMU, and I loved Pittsburgh. It was everything I’d ever dreamed and more, and since I’d spent the better part of my childhood dreaming about it, that’s no small thing. Somehow in the process, I also fell in love. Yes, insert sappy music here, just to annoy me further—I dare you. I also started getting sicker and sicker, and I injured my legs worse than I ever had before. I could barely walk a fair portion of the time, and I wasn’t able to do much even when my legs were behaving because of the migraines and stomach cramps. I spent my first day in Pittsburgh in the emergency room, and things didn’t get better from there. After far too many tests and exams for my insurance company’s happiness, the doctors told me to lay off any and all stress, especially physical stress. I was banned from running—not that I’d ever enjoyed it anyway, but the Navy mandated long runs, and running had helped me get in great shape and lose a good bit of weight. If I couldn’t run, the Navy didn’t want me anymore. Some of my officers wished me well and said they understood. Gunny Rodriguez was very helpful—he’d seen firsthand how hard I’d tried. Others were spiteful and told me I’d wasted their time and the government’s money. They told me I should never have applied for the spot if I were going to quit, because there were others who actually wanted it, and obviously I didn’t. They told me I was a disgrace.
My father agreed. Because my brother had seen how I’d finally earned my father’s pride, and then how I’d “given up,†he agreed as well. My mother was happy I wouldn’t be in the military after all.
Scorn I can tolerate. But they took my scholarship away, and good schools are expensive. I would’ve stayed and dealt with the student loans the rest of my life, but there was that whole love thing, about three paragraphs up.
I transferred to Frostburg State, moved back to Cumberland, and married Jason just over two years ago. Sometimes I think I was blinded. Please don’t misunderstand: I love him, and I wouldn’t leave him for the world. I would never undo what I did. But it’s hard sometimes, when I set out searching for friendship and a place where I could belong, and here I am again. Friendless, in a land where I may as well not be human—in Cumberland.
I despise Cumberland. What is there for me here? I got my BS in biology, by the way—dropped the physics because I couldn’t stand the physics department. It only took me two years, and I worked while I studied. But what good is it, really? I’m working as an engineering technician, which currently translates into “glorified secretary and errand-runner.â€Â When it finally arrives, I’ll be running a chemical vapor deposition reactor, the first of its kind in the world. Pretty cool, huh? Not when you want to be working with cells. It’s interesting, but the type of interesting that you want to read a ten-page article about, not write the bloody textbook.
I should be grateful, I know. I have two good doctors trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, though they’re not really succeeding. So long as I stay off my feet, I can keep the pain to a minimum. It’s there, but it’s far worse when I do silly things like try to play soccer again. I still limp, but people are finally learning not to ask questions. And Dr. Shakil found a medicine that helps stop my migraines. It’s the first time since I was in kindergarten that I didn’t have to worry that every little headache would turn into a week’s worth of misery. On the other hand, though, I’m nearly sedentary for fear of hurting myself again, especially after severely injuring my back a year ago. Since I can’t work out like I used to, I’ve lost all my muscle tone and now weigh more than I ever have in my life. It sucks. I’m working on it. It’s scary, though, when for all you know you’re irreversibly damaging yourself further with every step.
So I’m grateful, right? My health could be far, far worse. It sucks to be twenty-one and feel like you’re eighty, but I don’t have any one of a million worse things going on with my body. And I have a nice house, and what would be considered a good job in this area (which is to say, I bother going to work every day, and don’t just sit around and beg for handouts). I have what passes for an education, even if I think they should give me a refund for the waste of my time. And I do have friends, I guess—but they live too far away to see often. And I have Jason.
When my last few years of journaling ended, I was just about to leave for CMU. Things were great. I had friends, a future, and even love, which I’d never thought I’d have. After all, who could ever love someone like me? Even my own father can’t do that. Friends were just people who tolerated you better and longer than others, for which I was very grateful. But love?
Sometimes I don’t see how he puts up with me. Sometimes I’m afraid he doesn’t, and he regrets the decisions he made. I know he doesn’t, but I’m afraid he does. I’ve always been too wary, too quick to overanalyze every little thing. I question things too much. It might make a good scientist, if I can even wish that future on myself anymore, but it makes a bad wife. And I am a bad wife. I don’t keep the house as clean as I should, and I don’t cook for him and his friends as often as I used to do. I rarely even pack his lunch anymore. I leave him for weeks at a time—travel for work can’t be helped, but I certainly didn’t have to go to Honduras or to Pennsic. I miss his gigs to go to SCA events instead. I get frustrated and rant about things to him instead of just smiling sweetly and pretending I love my life. I mean, really, I’m very bad at this wife thing.
I am, on the other hand, a very good geek, a daydreamer, a poet, a photographer, a once and future musician. I’m loyal to the death to those about whom I care. I live to serve, to help others. I’m great with kids. I can intuitively understand things that others may never comprehend. People used to say I was brilliant. I may not be anymore, but I’m certainly not stupid.
It’s just the dreaming that gets me in trouble. I may have had to abandon the dreams I held most of my life, but I formed others quickly enough. I dreamed of skipping straight to the “job I love†phase and being part of a team that made a difference in the world, even a small difference. I wanted to learn new things. I’ve always been mind-hungry, and I don’t think I can just wish that away. It might be arrogant, but I know I’m being wasted here. My talent, my intellect, whatever you want to call it. I can do so much better, but every day I waste in this job is another day I’m falling behind.
I want to move downstate toward Frederick. There are opportunities there, and if there ever are in Cumberland again, I don’t think it will be in my lifetime. I want opportunities for a good job, for friends, and for good schools and a future for my children. People in Frederick might complain about Washington County schools, but I know what Allegany County schools are like, and I used to long to go to a school over the county line. Frederick County schools are even better! But along with opportunities comes higher costs of living, and we can’t just sell our house here and buy a similar one there for anywhere near the same price. People there think they have a great deal on a studio apartment if it’s only $500/month; here, you can rent a four bedroom house for that price. In the long run, we’d be okay—I could easily make twice as much down there, and Jason could get the equivalent of the raise he’s been owed for so long plus some. It would be rough at first, but we could do it.
The problems:Â
1) I have to stay at ABL for at least a year before my 401k becomes permanent. Not really an issue, since I’ve been here for over six months already and it would take time to find a new job down there.Â
2) Jason wants at least as much property as we have now, which is about four acres, so that he can “go outside and shoot his shotgun whenever he feels like it.â€Â Not like he does that more than once or twice a year anyway, and he could easily just go to his father’s or his sister’s instead. Property is nice, but we could always upgrade later on.Â
3) I have to be at a job at least a year before they’re required to give me maternity leave. Not too much of a problem, since it would take me a few months to get settled in anyway, but it poses two separate solutions. We could put off having children for another year or so and move as soon as possible, but Jason seems wary of the idea. He hasn’t lived here his whole life, and therefore has not yet cultured the intense hatred of Cumberland that I have had over two decades to perfect. Alternatively, we could have a baby as soon as possible, then move afterward. However, this would push back moving for a bit, and things are getting more expensive down there constantly as the area grows up.
So there’s my confusion. I want my baby, but I want out of this town quickly in order to save my sanity. I will not bring up a child here. I will not subject them to the pathetic schools, the complete dearth of opportunities, and the sheer laziness that lies down in the valleys here like a sickness.
I think we could make it. I feel somewhat bad leaving my team here so soon, but I don’t have any feelings at all for the company. They screwed me over the second I got here, and I’ve seen how they’ve taken advantage of my husband and my friends. I’m so lonely, though. I don’t want to sit at home and stare at a book, wishing I had a living, breathing human being with whom to interact. Books used to be enough, but then I met rational human beings, few of which exist in Cumberland. I can’t go back to books fulltime anymore. I need more. It’s addictive, and a week at Pennsic hooked me too hard and fast to let go.
I don’t have anything more to say. I feel so lost.