A Short Ponderance and Intro into the PA Life

My mind is so full. Full of important, adult things to do this week. Full of random questions about things that are extremely unimportant, but oddly fascinating. Full of dreams, memories, things to achieve, things to write. I often build up a wall in my mind and push the mental pause button. I began thinking and writing in my head, novels upon novels of things, only to never find the time to sit and write it out. I wish there was a mini typewriter, stationed up there, who would just type up everything i think, so nothing would be lost. I tend to write the best in my head, and that normally happens when I'm sitting somewhere outside or I'm driving, alone, with the radio off and the windows halfway rolled down.

When i was a mere child and began to drive, there was nothing i could think of that i hated more than being in control of such a powerful thing {How contrary to how i am now}. My parents had to force me into getting my Drivers Permit, and despite the fact that i was a social butterfly, it took a lot of convincing for me to drive anywhere, even the beloved youth activities. Now, i find driving to be my safe place. A place where i sit behind the wheel and type stories in my head that no one will ever hear. A place to think,  to talk to God, to jam out to music, or get lost in my own mind. The latest addition to my nomadic life is Wilson - my spunky Kia that follows {or, should i say, takes} me everywhere i go. In the time I've had Wilson, we've found common grounds on the fact that we both have a compelling and swelling interest in us to go anywhere and everywhere. We have driven miles upon miles together. Each time i sit in those seats, i feel a little glimpse of what its like to have a constant home. A steadfast place to always come back to. A place to hold my things, thoughts, and tired bones when the destination feels just a little to far off.

My mind has been in drifting thought of Iowa recently. Like when your extremely tired but cant sleep, and you find yourself consentlessly drifting in and out of knowing whats going on and unconsciousness. That's what my though has been doing in regards to Iowa. Whether that is a good or bad thing, i haven't fully decided yet. Something recently just tugs my mind back in that direction and i pause for more than a few minutes, categorizing the puzzle my brain has left to ruins. I can never put the proverbial finger on it. What is it about Iowa that has my mind turning more than usual? Its a pondering thought that sometimes I'm almost afraid to find the answer to.

Last time i was in Iowa, I had reunited with many childhood friends and slightly caught up on who is married to who, who is in college, working, having babies, and moved away. The roads are so familiar. I drive them without thinking. They have stayed a constant, a same. I cant explain the feeling of being in a familiar environment, with unfamiliar faces. People i have yet to meet. People i only 'know' of. People i spent my entire growing up years with, but no longer have anything in common with. I like to think this happens everywhere, to everyone a some point. But I'm not totally convinced. Its not an altogether bad feeling, its just, weird. For some reason, it hits the hardest when i step into the Iowa state lines. Maybe its because only  1 out of my 6  sibling still live in the house we were raised in. Maybe because when i go to the Kalona Library where i usta spend hours upon hours sapping wifi and sleeping in the back benches, no one comes over to tell me hello anymore, because the town i once new, doesn't seem to recognize me anymore. Maybe its the fact that outside of the few girls i am still in good contact with, there is no youth group, no Biblestudies, no worship services quite like the ones while i was still part of this community. And that sinks my heart a tad. It may be partially my fault for not jumping head-long back into groups when i visit, but that is almost impossible to do without being shadowed by people exhaustion and reverting to false interests.

This happens to me more than i would like to admit. The dislike of a familiar place with unfamiliar people. It turns me away running faster than my feet can carry. Everywhere i go, i form a life around the people. To walk back into my home in Colorado without the family i lived with would be equally as sinking of a feeling as going back to Jamaica without my original team. I halfway hope there are others who feel the same, and yet i hope there aren't. Its an odd, awakening feeling. I am far more willing to go to a new place, with people i have never met and start again there, than go back to Bibleschool or Greece with a bran new set of people. Take that bran new set of people and plop us in Kansas, or Des Moines and i would be all for it... just anywhere but a place that holds memories of others.

All that to say. All of those in Iowa, who welcomed me back with wide smiles and joy, upon my last visit, were much appreciated. So many people, interested in where Ive been, and asking where I'm going next and encouraging me to keep traveling while I'm young. That means so much. Its just, a very weird feeling each time i come back, with the majority of my old friends groups and usta-be regular activities lost in the wind. Not bad, weird. I'm a sucker for change, i love it with all ive got. Gracious, its what i thrive on. But, its different when it happens in a place you believed was almost incapable of it.

To those of you all around the states who somehow convinced me to keep you updated on my life, I'm sorry for the lack thereof. In short, I have been living in Pennsylvania for the last few weeks, and inshalla {God Willing}, through the spring. A job has been established, and i am happily busting my buns, pleasantly keeping up with full time work and a much needed social life.

A smidget of a story for those who care to hear: Intro how things are going in PA.

A random picture of me at work, taking care of my plants

Amongst my living in PA i have a fabulous job at Ryeland Gardens. A garden center/greenhouse nursery thinga-ma-bopper, filled with many laborious things to do and work at each day. One day, my boss gave me the task of mowing the front lawn out by the high-way and big billboard sign. Lets keep in mind, as many big machinery as i have run, i can count on one hand all the times i've ran a lawn-mower, and none of those were actually mowing the yard. Anyways, Dennis plopped my down on a zero-turn mower, gave me a few vital instructions, had me test drive a bit, and set me onward to tackle the grassy jungle. I must say, i felt i did rather awful, considering i should know how to make straight rows with all the wheat Ive harvested in my lifetime. I finished the first patch and was sent to a side yard to try my hand at it again. I drove up to my starting point, reved my throttle, put my deck in gear and began going forward. The point i started at had a mailbox at the end and i had to skim past it to start. The only part is, i didn't skim past it. In fact, i did the exact opposite. As i turned into the row, the back end of the mower whipped around and completely took out the mailbox, wooden post and all. I heard an extremely alarming sound, and being taught to pick out even the smallest distruptencies, i stopped the mower immediately, idled everything down, and began racking my brain what i did wrong. Meanwhile, my boss came around behind the mower just laughing and caring on. To my despair, i looked back and saw that poor mailbox, face planted and bent into oblivion. Every day i drive into work, and my heart smirks and blushes with partial embarrassment as i pass the reminded of such an innocent mistake. The half stable, sagging and sad mailbox stares at me, accusing me of treason or mailbox-ism, or some other insane accusation. Little does it kno, it looks way better that way. I am determined to believe i just added a little character to its rather bland mailholderness.

Adios, Friends.