My 2 a.m.

I used to sit up late at night in undergrad and watch Def Jam Poetry on late night HBO – you know, back when Spielberg and Hanks weren't busy running the show. Back when Russell Simmons and other minority acts in the know knew where to go to find the best poets to weave tales in well versed rhythm. I used to sit up and watch it to see what they'd say – how race would become a metaphor for ordering food, how love made someone so interested in staying in someone's presence that they wanted to die and come back speaking in a foreign tongue so they could learn to love someone in another language. All of this comes to mind as I've been sitting up night after night the last week and a half packing and trying to bring some order to my life. I've said it before, my life is very cluttered, full of things and unnecessary people and the sense that there's nothing that can quite compare to Def Jam Poetry at 2 a.m. is depressing to me.

I want my brain to be stimulated at odd hours, the concept of time – in relation to fully being awake, meaning fully being engaged is something I've been thinking about often. I stumbled across one of my favorite poets, Rives, breaking down time in his poem – "Is 4 a.m. the new midnight?"; and I am once again astounded by how crazy good this man is at what he does. It made me immediately search all the videos of him on YouTube, only to become frustrated that there weren't enough. Then I went to his website and looked up the written words so I could repeat them in my head ("I want to make hummingbird Molotov cocktails…"I'll unlock the air, find out what's missing…and I'll put it there"). Damn…I need to make it to the TED conference one day to be surrounded by madmen and geniuses. I've found I quite like madmen and geniuses, even if they are self-proclaimed. But this mad recollection and online search led me to realize, it's been three years since I've written something simply for the pleasure of writing (college papers don't count) and it was for my graduate school admissions essay. So to remind myself, and to introduce myself to anyone reading…I'll make 2 a.m. a time to revisit my own history, a time to begin doing something I love…writing for the pleasure of writing…and seeing what pours out, what comes – even if it is at the most awkward hours of the night…

I am the by-product of tri-colored immigrant stories. Of cross-cultural undressing and bedtime play. Of a Viking mother and warrior father. Of bordello dreams, of humid southern sheet tossing, toe curling loss of innocence. Of shattered dreams and strength Giants would envy. I am the intersection between three worlds at the cross-roads at the axis of the universe. Of fearless Superwomen, quiet and steady Rocks. Of weakness that can lead a person to a mountaintop and a handful of pills. Ready and able to kill off the dream of promise. Soy la poeta, El sueno de mi madre's y esperanza, Mi padre's chocolat, I am the child of three days who was left alone for a moment then swept up into, Honey, organic, cotton strong arms, Adoption makes it easy to forget where you come from __ but I digress, I come from a young girls' breast. Suckling as my mother's mother lay dead, creation walks in closely following death. I am the scream that rent the air on October 23, 1984 and has not stopped wailing since. I am that riot, the whirlwind, the blessed. The by-product of tri-colored immigrant stories. Of bordello's and heat. Of young girls innocence. De mi madre's suenos.

~ "I am" by N. Christensen

Oh and this one is to be shared…for love…cause I believe in it and hope one day I'll learn it in my own language, teach it to someone else, and then in turn I'll learn it in someone else's…

Call me…GodMama!

In the midst of all my current life madness, my little sister asked me to be Godmother to my niece! After 5 seconds of contemplation I said YES! Being as I know nothing about being a godmother, I decided to do some research. In my initial search, I realized that not only will I be responsible for ensuring the spiritual 'training' of my niece; I will also be responsible for taking care of her should anything happen to her parents. No pressure.

Oh, I also found out that Godmother is the female form of the Godparent (duh) and the name of an alcoholic beverage made with Italian Amaretto Liquor and Vodka (is it sinful for me to think that sounds yummy?!). So, not only do I get to celebrate the fact that I will be responsible for whether or not my niece ends up in heaven or hell, I can do so by raising a glass of my namesake. I don't know how I feel about ensuring the spiritual training of anyone; I'm still working on my own spiritual training. But, I think the best course of action will be to do as my parents did with me…provide the foundation and then provide the freedom to make a choice as to what you can personally believe in and live up to. I have a problem with people who stand on glass pedestals and speak of their morals and values and then find that they only live up to them when placed under scrutiny. I have an even bigger problem with fair-weather religious folk, those who only spend time thinking about a God or faith when something is in error in their life – when shit has hit the fan – or when they spend all week behaving as sinners, admittedly so, and then find a cure on Sunday to wash it all away. The only downside to commercialized faith, as it seriously is today with mega-churches, etc. – is that the only thing anyone walks away with knowing for sure is that all things can be forgiven. All you have to do is appear to believe and you can constantly be reborn (so for anyone who states they don't believe in reincarnation, they shouldn't believe in the most common religions at all because life itself is one giant comedy of errors with the ability 'escape clause' being the ability to reborn, even when you are utterly without merit as a human being, when it all comes tumbling down).

Considering that I find faith to be a very personal thing, the best statement I've heard to categorize it is, "the Kingdom of God is inside you, and all around you, not in mansions of wood and stone. Split a piece of wood... and I am there, lift a stone... and you will find me." Faith should be private, a constant commitment to personal betterment and peace, and it should be found at any time, everywhere. It should be free to flourish in its truest forms – the intent never to do or bring harm to others. My 'spiritual foundation' came from the Lutheran Church by my families' side and often resting my head on my father's knee in the pew waiting after eating too many pretzel sticks in the bible study. But, when I became older, my parents 'set me free' so to speak and told me it was up to me to find out what I could believe in, hold onto in my heart, and strive to live up to. Those values, morals, promises, whatever you want to call them, that would make it possible for me to look at myself in the mirror and know I was a person who lived by the tenets I set for myself and found pride in that, I don't think any type of faith is meant to break you down or make you feel burdened by guilt for not being good enough. But, as I think about the foundation and guidance I can give my niece, I am heartened by the fact that many close friends of mine are being ordained and entering different churches and carry the belief in different faiths, ideologies, and values – so I will have a wide pool from which to gather information for her to examine. In the meantime, I can revisit my own understanding of faiths, read the holy books I haven't read in a long time, and continue to strengthen my own spiritual self. So when the time comes, as she grows, my niece will know the true essence of freedom of religion, as more than a right. As a measure of respect given from one person (the teacher) to another (the student) – being that one tells the story and the other comes to their own conclusion based on all they know – to know you are free to choose what path you'll take, what beliefs you'll embody and what values you can strive to live up to throughout your life, just as I was.

Much ado about nothing…

This morning, I woke up to a bit of Shakespeare and if there's ever a man whose work you'd like to wake up to you can't do much better than that. Kenneth Branagh's screen adaptation of 'Much ado about nothing' was on, with its all-star cast and wit from the wordsmith himself. While my foggy brain was trying to work its way through the old-English/witty words fencing with one another between characters – I was reminded of the simplest lesson of it all, everything is not always as bad as it seems. As I'm stressing through all the things I have to do…from closing out at work, to letting strangers into my home (the latest catastrophe being one said stranger plugged my toilet and I had a 10:45 emergency run to Target for cleaning supplies which makes this entire passage about Shakespeare seem like it just visited a trailer park), to finally recognizing the obvious and bringing my moving boxes from my car to my apartment to FINALLY start packing (I was really hoping to be granted Mary Poppins' magic to make the job a game)…and the rest of the madness, there's blessing hidden underneath it all.

I'm finding things I'd thought lost in the rubble that is my apartment, photos of friends I haven't seen in a long time – a reason to remind myself to reach out, I'm seeing the blessing of knowing that as I'm leaving I have so many people to say farewell to or at least aloha, I like mixing my hellos with my goodbyes, it leaves me with something to look forward to. One of my favorite lines from the entire play is this, "the most peaceable way for you if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company." So I shall let these worries expose themselves and steal themselves from my mind. In all this I'm finding my great fondness of 'things' is hollow indeed because I've found little of value or worth among them all…my photos I shall keep, the memories of the travels, the people and experiences; all small pocket-able things. I now wonder why I've spent so much time amassing the rest. Perhaps this will be a game after all, to find out how much I can pass along, how much I can throw away, and how much I can pocket - to hold close, for another day.

To Sublet or Not to Sublet

The internet is a wonderful thing, it takes about 5 minutes to sell off your life or barter it away – you take my place for 12 months, I'll give you access to all my possessions (except my books) so long as you don't fuck all my stuff up…seems like a good deal all around. But, the weirdos who've come out of the closet in this latest endeavor have made me question giving anyone access to my stuff – even though I intend to sell or donate everything when I get back (I need a purge, I've become one of those people who possesses too much and most of it has very little meaning…what's the point of having so many things if there's no purpose or meaning to them, if I feel no tie to them?…but I digress).

I've only been showing my apt for three days but I've already been able to find classifications of people coming by: I have the "look-e-loos" who must like going around looking at places with no intent (or means) to buy, it would be maddening to me, then you have the "negotiators" those wonderful people (mostly men), who come through, tuck their fingers into their belt loops, tug their trousers up and over their muffin top and then try to get down to the business of negotiating a better rental rate, asking for utilities to be paid for (by me no less), etc…these jerkals (as my friend JM says) make me laugh because they honestly think I'm going to engage in negotiating an already really good deal. Sorry. Then you have the "Nigerian Princes" these people who may as well be, and potentially are, from another country because they want to send money to secure the place from Bali or wherever they are writing to you from if you can just send your banking information so they can put the full years rent in your account…ummm, right. You'd think scam artists would try a little harder or be better at it.

I'm sure there will be more people coming through but Friday is my deadline to find someone or break my lease. Honestly, after seeing 8 people and having only one of them seem normal and sane, I'm beginning to wonder if breaking my lease isn't such a bad idea after all…

100 Directions

So, after four attempts – yes, four – to submit my notice of resignation it was finally accepted. I've never written a resignation letter before so it's been an entirely new experience for me. But, I should have better prepared myself for the flood gates to open. Being pulled in 100 directions seems much more exciting than it actually is, and I'm beginning to realize entering a 90 day weight lose challenge at my gym in the midst of a career and life transition was not the brightest thing I've done this month. I would say the only good thing about it is it's making me realize how utterly easy it is to fall back into old habits (curses).

So, after using our staff meeting time to write out my 'work' task list for the next two weeks I came to the conclusion, on page three, that I'm FUBAR! This was after my boss informed me since I'm only able to give the office officially two weeks' of my time, I can't take any annual leave or anything before my last official day because it would cut into the amount of time they have me here. Well yes, I agree it will…but it also makes it difficult for me to get everything done in my "off" hours. Like I said, being pulled in 100 directions seems much, MUCH more exciting than it actually. As my sage mother told me when I spoke to her about my scheduling dilemma, "be thankful people want you to stay, but don't kill yourself over it." I love it, my mother is the best at giving you a set-down for complaining while also telling you to buck up and tell yourself to say 'no' if and when you need to. I know everything comes together in the end, but right now I want to fill my camel pack up with some good vino, glue the spout to my lip and pull the covers over my head! But, the biggest challenge for me now is finding someone to sublet my apartment…

Two Weeks Notice

I've done it now. I've officially decided to resign from my job, in the middle of what seems to be a perpetual economic downturn, at the same time when SecDef Gates has decided it would be brilliant to cut the defense budget. Wonderful, not only have I picked a prime time to do this – I've also decided to do it to become a military civilian, after training of course. So, I'm essentially going to be starting an epic journey or rendering myself extremely FUBAR. Either way, I'm taking the bull by the horns and riding that baby! I need this, I need a change. I've had two 'starter' jobs since graduating from college in 2007, by starter jobs I mean, these were the type that my friend Sardo would say were little girl jobs – I'm looking for the big girl job, the woman's job, the career. I've paid enough dues since joining the workforce as a 16 year old, I've had enough internships to last me a lifetime, I've done enough to prove I'm capable of doing more. Which is by itself a silly statement, proving your capable of doing more – silly because I was allowing others to make the decision for me when I'd done enough, been enough. Well no more, since 2007, I've moved five times, finished graduate school, found, built, and broken numerous relationships, ruined my health, engaged in two starter careers and managed to find a path for myself.

I've technically suffered through two work-related divorces, and it's fitting that both have come within our current economic times. My first job, as a Corporate Case Assistant – a longwinded way to say paralegal – was a lay off due to the economy and really stupid management decisions made by my firm. Essentially, they merged with a company who realized they didn't want to merge and pulled out of the deal, leaving my firm rudderless in a big shark-filled sea. I was one of the first group to go…and when I was laid off, my reaction wasn't what many people would have expected, instead of being angry or heartbroken I felt liberated. I went shopping. Literally, I grabbed my purse – after attempting to send a goodbye email to my colleagues only to find my processor had been removed from my office (tacky much) – and walked downtown to go shopping and enjoy my first afternoon in the sun in over a year. I had been tied down to 75 plus hour workweeks, endless bad food, multiple blackberries, zero sleep and the brilliant decision on my part to begin graduate school in the midst of it all. The ties that bound me to that job I was only too happy to be released from. My liberation lasted for two months, I'm not very good with idle time, through which I threw myself into my studies and rocked that semester. Then I began my second job, as Program Assistant – now Program Analyst – with the U.S. Department of State. I was finally going to use my undergraduate degree and begin working for the federal government. I lucked out and my boss is an amazing woman who told me from day one "you don't want to do this for the rest of your life," she was right, I didn't. I didn't realize 18 months ago that I would be in the position I'm in now. I mean, I just received a promotion and a couple awards for the work I've been doing. I love the fact that the work I do is substantive towards my bureau's goals, but as in most times in my life when I've accepted a change for myself or when one has been forced upon me – I don't feel challenged by it any longer and I know it's a gap-filler and not the career I want for the rest of my life, it's served me well though to find out what I want to do. Which brings me to my pending second job-related divorce, in exactly two weeks starting tomorrow; I'm going to be leaving my current job to take a gamble on a position that will take me abroad to work in Afghanistan. It's a gamble because I have to go through 4-6 months of training in the middle of America and see if I pass muster. I'm willing to do anything to make it work, I'm ready for the challenge, and while I'm nervous, I'm also excited and ready…I'm just ready. Having the opportunity to work for the government and serve my country in this way is an honor. We can't all be soldiers, but I'm finding ways to serve my country and I'll take any rewards which come from that. I like to move, and I'm ready for this next step even if I'm taking it when unemployment is high, the position depends upon my completing training, and I have no f—ing idea what I'm getting myself into really (govt secrets are all the rage these days).

So, two divorces down and I'm ready to go, we'll see what the next two weeks bring but this blog is about the journey, about my plans to pack out and head out, to take what I've learned in the last three years and apply it to a career that brings purpose to my life and passion to the work I do…I've always loved the road, I've always loved seeing what's around the next bend and sharing the experience with the people I stumble upon along the way. Thank God the road is long, and as Kerouac said, "the road is life"… let's go.