Rocket Football Rocks?

    Continuing my search for the real American, I have begun attending the events of a pee-wee or "rocket" football team...sporadically. It was picture day the first time I shadowed Justin, an 11yr old kicker and wide receiver in a boys tackle football league run by the local school district.
    Pulling the van into the overflowing parking lot of a nearby park I brought my litany of questions: "What position do you play? Wide Receiver...is that the one who the quarterback passes the ball to?" Its picture day so all the young players are decked out in full pads and their red jeresyed best. Black leather gloves and the American Football classic: skin tight black knee-pants rounding out the look for that delicate balance between pansy-primo-ballerino and macho meat head.A look I hope to understand before the season is over.
    Sitting on the picnic bench doing my best to observe with out interfering with my environment--a feat all true Anthropologists do their best to achieve--I come to the conclusion that 11yr old boys are STILL as mean as they were when I was that age. A burgeoning suspicion that I in my tight gray skinny jeans, silk blouse, funky platinum streaks, and too trendy white fauz ray-bans was attracting too much attention and thus altering the dynamic among prepubescent players and fading-glory dads alike, I retreated to the distance of a park bench under the guise of practicing my guitar to continue my study as the boys began their self-directed and serious warm up. Never mind the fact that few of the boys actually succeeded in touching their toes and their stretching form was less then par. (a comical number of them wobbling and falling to the ground while attempting to stand one footed while stretching their right-quad) each boy tackled the task of warm ups with a surprising and admirable determination and focus. The general impression an untutored observer such as myself receives is: this is NOT a game.
    Impure athlete and female that I am however, I quickly became bored, sweaty in the surprisingly hot sun, uncomfortable with the stares and general impression that I just don't fit in; snuck up to the team photos snapped a few sneaky pics on both my own 35mm manual focus and the disposable point and shoot I had been sent with under orders to take pics so my mom could escape buying the professional copies, kissed my little brother on the forehead and left.
    Education conclusion: football, while fulfilling for some, is not my American Identity.

Tumblin' _._.._-_-..- .._-_.O.._..

4 months back from my grand Turkish adventure. And its back. I had hoped that I had developed an immunity, but the sleeplessness, discontent, overactive imagination, even heightened creative energy tell me its back. I have yet another dread case of that time tried and true foot itch. Wanderlust. Or as I privately nominated it last year: tumbleweed syndrome. Here I am at home with the family. I have a full-time job at which I am working 60+hr/wk. Am weeks away from buying a car (which constitutes a HUGE commitment for me) and all I can think about is packing a suitcase and starting all over. Again.

An increasing bitterness with Michigan and my apparent ineptitude to connect socially with the local populace is giving away to the frustrated claustrophobia that sent me into the arms of one of the most ancient and foreign civilizations in the world in February of '10. Lately I have been missing Turkey, Turkish food, and the language, however I am certain that I have zero interest in moving back. I need a NEW adventure. This time I am utterly stumped.

Twenty minutes ago I became so desperate for direction that I googled: "the next big adventure". These were the top 3 hits:

1. Portland, Oregon - some sporting goods store in Portland selling skis and mountain bikes
2. Scotland
3. Somaliland - a country that doesn't even officially exist

There are two decisions I have to make before I can even begin to tackle the life decisions this need affects: A. What do I want to do?
B. Where do I want to go?

The last move A. was easy. I wanted to be a nanny. Ok. Did that. But the truth is I don't want to BE a nanny for the next 7 years. I really need to begin doing something that will boost my CV and look impressive for future employers and Graduate Programs.

This time I am not even sure if I want to go international again or stay in the states. I dont even know how to begin answering these basics. I am utterly stumped and have been for...at least 6 months now.

Can anybody suggest/recommend some REALLY cool job/destination, with details? Appreciate it.

I am so lost -
Will I ever settle down?

Rededication

For those of you who were former followers of my blog from the 7.5 months I lived in Turkey, this is where I shall update from now on. For those of you who WEREN'T followers of my Turkey Blog. Go. Read it. http://vadainturkey.blogspot.com

I arrived back in the US last week after a long and life changing 7.5 months living mainly in Istanbul. While there I developed an appreciation the blessings I have had my whole life as an American citizen. It is my plan over the next....months to discover and experience: THE GREAT AMERICAN DREAM.

This is your invitation to join me. In the words of the Iconic Simon and Garfunkel:

"Let us be lovers we'll marry our fortunes together"
"I've got some real estate here in my bag"
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner pies
And we walked off to look for America

"Michigan seems like a dream to me now"

I've gone to look for America

A Letter I wrote Elder Michael Waite

This is Matt Bomer the heartthrob in a new series on USA called "White Collar". I'm in love.

Dear Elder Rub n’ Tug aka Mikey aka Ginge aka Madam O’s Sex Slave,
So…I graduated. And now I am back in Hell—I mean—Michigan living with Satan—I mean—my family. Jeff texted me the other day and said: “Remember when your crazy spring roommate told Mikey that he reminded her of her twelve year old brother and Mikey said: ‘That’s funny, because you remind me of my twelve year old brother!’” I hadn’t remembered, but what I did remember was you and Jeff water boarding me. I also remember the 5 food groups: Pop tarts, corn dogs, frozen waffles, cheese, and candy. I also remember you instigating the Housing Complaint then turning belly up in the “mediation”. “Michael! PUSSY!” (me pointing finger accusingly) “Uh, yeah! I was TERRIFIED!” Then going home and pooping on her picture. ß Passive Aggressive.
You will be pleased to know that this week is Halloween and I am going to be a peacock. A sexy peacock. So here are some things about Michigan that do not suck: no roaches. Mike and Ike. Target. Smoke Detectors. Black People. No one named Oleole. In news from Hawaii: Tommy Jordan is married, Alex is engaged, Brady is not, but still dating Holly, Briana and Lyndsi are graduating this semester, Marni is in Jerusalem, Andreas is still European, Meagan and Jordan are as beautiful as ever, and Brennon, Justin, and Terrence are all in Utah—weirdos.
I got a calling yesterday—shudder. CTR 10 Teacher. I think them Hellions is gonna spit and roast me. I have gotten steadily and progressively dumber since I graduated and can actually no longer speak verbally. I am told that the next thing to go will be my ability to control my bladder. Well its that time of year again, soon I will be listening to Christmas music and dreaming about the money I DON’T have.
So, how is your companion? I had a really hard time finding photos of myself with clothing on, I hope Elder Taint appreciates my efforts. I know you are doing your best to lead by example and keep him pure.
I’d like to leave you with some wise words from the great philosopher ABBAcus:

I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay/ Ain't it sad/ And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me/ That's too bad/ In my dreams I have a plan If I got me a wealthy man/ I wouldn't have to work at all, I'd fool around and have a ball/ A man like that is hard to find but I can't get him off my mind/ Ain't it sad/ And if he happens to be free I bet he wouldn't fancy me/ That's too bad/ So I must leave, I'll have to go/ To Las Vegas or Monaco/ And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

Money, money, money/ Must be funny/ In the rich man's world/ Money, money, money/ Always sunny/ In the rich man's world/ Aha-ahaaa/ All the things I could do/ If I had a little money/ It's a rich man's world

ALOHA ALWAYS,

VADA

Pictured Rocks my Socks Bled

I wish I _________ (insert verb) more. I really need to. I need to write more. I need to exercise more. I need to study more. I need to try more. I need to pray more. I need to help more. I def need to blog/journal more. Savey?

Belated update from a couple months:
Thursday night I text Lindsey Vaillancourt. I was bored and looking to get into trouble. She via text she asked if I'd like to go camping in the UP the next morning. HELL YA! Next morning I squeeze in a four door with four Jenison kids and a small mountain range of camping gear. The drive up north was uneventful but beautiful. It was Skippy's first time crossing the Bridge. And then we went on a wild goose chase seeking the great and world famous Mystery Spot in St. Ignace. Don't worry--I'm not spilling any secrets. Then Lindsey wanted to see the albino deer at the Deer Ranch; it being her birthday, we all sat in the car while she paid 4.75 to go out back and feed a sleeve of Saltines to the "wild" beasts.


Back on the road again we are stuck behind a slow vehicle on the highway. We move start to pass them only to realize there is an oncoming car much closer then we realized. From Casey in the driver's seat we hear: "Don't worry guys, I got this!" Famous last words. It was a cop.

After almost colliding with the only cop in the UP. Getting pulled over by the only cop in the UP. Getting lectured by the only cop in the UP. And getting a ticket from the only cop in the UP. We continued our journey, slightly somber and at a decidedly slower speed.

It was dark by the time we got to our "camp area". The boys set up the tent while the girls and I scrounged for tinder, kindling, and firewood. We had to settle for sticks and dry leaves. Although, Lindsey did wrestle some stumps out of the ground like a bad ass.

Bad Ass is a good way to describe the entire weekend.

Aside from a few drunken rescues and scuffles, the night passed smoothly. The morning brought a glorious view of Lake Superior, crashing on a limestone shelf mere yards from our tent. That day we drove from our site in the small town of Christmas, with its 'Vixen's Inn' and 'Big Ass' Santa (Wooden Santa approx. 50 tall) through Munising with a quick stop into the Visitors Center to check the weather report. snow expected later.
In the end, we didn't get to the trail head until 1:30 pm. The Chapel Loop is 9.8 miles long, we started out Laughing. That's not the way the hike ended. Chapel Falls looked like a long water slide sliding down at an angle, looking like a child's dream in the middle of the forest.


It was at least 3 miles of wooded trail before we finally reached the coast of lake Superior. 2 words:
1. Gore
2. Juss.

I think I am in love with Earth. By the time we got to the second major shoreline landmark of the Chapel Loop Hike, Portal Point we realized it had taken us almost 5 hours to get less then half way, and it was already 5pm. Translation: Approx 3 hrs daylight left. Light that would go fast on the Eastern side of the hills and cliffs we were hiking.








From there on out, it was a mad dash to the trailend and our waiting car. I choose not to remember those next hours and when we got lost just as darkness fell only .5mi from the parking lot and how miserable that become.

I choose only to dwell on the magic and how boss I was for 3/4 of the hike, leading the way with my walking stick like Moses leading the Children of Isreal through the wilderness. That was until my feet started hurting, after that I was a pussy and held everyone else up.

To sum it up: Boss Planet. Boss Friends. Boss Weekend.

In the Attempt to Have a Title Longer than the Post, or, On Wandering up the Point: the Conundrums I Sometimes Face

Would you rather be rich or free?



I would like to know.

Lies

My brand-new, top-of-the-line, waterproof, shatterproof, impossible-to-damage Olympus 850 camera got water in it and died Saturday.



I'm suing.