Me? A Writer?

My good friend Dave just asked me to be a guest blogger on his new blog.  Dave is a writer.  And I happen to think he is great.  I love reading his work, and I feel honored when he sends me new chapters for books that never happen, or random short stories that he has yet to finish.  But, when he asked me to blog for him I didn't understand.  Why me?  Yes, I have my own blog.  But as my faithful followers, who range as far as my mother, father and godmother, know, I am not even very good at keeping my own blog.  Why would anyone want me as a guest on their own blog?  Save yourselves!  Don't ask me.  But he did.  On facebook chat.  The new blog is called "Reluctant Adult Perspective" and began about a week ago.  I asked him how often I would be expected to write and what he wants from me.  He said: 
"you just need to write something somewhat introspective. 
maybe about being far from family."    


While I was honored that someone whose writing I adore would ask me, I had to ask him why.  His response: 
"you're a writer with an interesting story."  


Wow, a writer.  Me?  Before I had time to digest what I considered to be a huge (and unexpected) compliment, he followed with this: 
"and you refuse to grow up and are stalling your life by living in thailand, or is that wrong? 
sounds like reluctant adult material to me."


Oh, snap.  There it is.  I'm a reluctant adult.  I am stalling my life by living out here.  In so many ways I had convinced myself that I was doing just the opposite.  Have I tricked myself to believe a lie?  Isn't that what pathological liars do?  Aren't they people who begin to think that fictitious events actually occurred?  I believe I am living my life in fifth gear, but am I just stalling out?


Maybe Dave is right.  But since this conversation took place on Wednesday, I haven't stopped thinking about it.  My conclusion: it doesn't matter.  Okay, I'm a reluctant adult because I ran away to Thailand.  I can deal with that label.  But is that any different than my friends still nannying?  Or my friends still content with working at the same restaurant they worked at in high school?  What about the people ski bumming and the people still going to school for something they aren't totally convinced they want to do?  Or my friends with "grown up jobs" openly wishing they could be back in college, partying, living off of their parents and somehow managing decent grades without ever attending class?  We're all reluctant adults.  


The people that pat me on the back for running away to Thailand, only do so because in some way or another, they want to do the same thing.  I can't count how many people have told me, "Gosh, I wish I could do what you are doing."  Or, "I should have done that before my life started happening." "Now's the time," and "you will never regret this."  Of course I have my good days and my bad days, but I won't regret this.  My life is going to start eventually, whether I am ready or not.  For now, I'm content stalling.  

A few firsts... and hopefully a few lasts

The first of my close friends got married at the end of April.  And I was a bridesmaid for the first time.  It was great.  But it was also a bit crazy.

My parents and I flew to Charleston, SC on Wednesday before the wedding.  They have friends in Charleston from medical school and were planning to visit for a few days before the wedding.  They were also able to take a quick trip down to Augusta to see Aunt Jamie's choir rehearse with the director of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  I, on the other hand, went to work.  

Laura Beth, the bride, is in occupational therapy school in Charleston.  She finished her last of six finals on Wednesday morning at around 10 am.  When I arrived at noon, my parents brought me to her apartment, and quickly bid me farewell.  We had less than 24 hours to pack up her apartment and completely move her.  And, as my parents saw, she had a very long way to go.  

Packing I can handle.  But this packing was more complex than I was prepared for.  Some of Laura Beth's things were being packed and prepared for her sister who will be moving into an apartment at Clemson next semester.  Some of Laura Beth's things were being moved to a new apartment on the other side of town.  And the rest of Laura Beth's things were being put in a moving truck to be brought down to Pensacola, Florida, where her now husband has an apartment.

While I wanted to be independent in the packing process and just "get 'er done," I couldn't.  Every single thing I wanted to pack had to be cleared with Laura Beth.  She had to tell me what corner or box or car or moving truck to put everything in.  I felt useless.  But, I must have been somewhat productive, because we finished.  

We packed up and moved out of one apartment, moved into a new apartment and a moving truck.  And we were finished by Thursday afternoon.  I am going to give myself another pat on the back for that one.  

We drove out to Fripp Island, where the wedding would be taking place.  As my friends and fellow bridesmaids arrived, I lost it.  I was a total wreck.  Tears were streaming down my beet red face for the majority of the weekend.  But, somehow, I was the only one of my friends not to cry at the ceremony.  As crazy as the weekend was, and it was, just ask my parents, it was absolutely wonderful.  I saw four of my best friends from college.  I met Allie's fiancee.  I saw Jackson, Lindsey's son, who is 3 years old already, and tearing up the dance floor.  But most importantly, I saw Laura Beth get married, knowing that she could not be any happier.  I am thrilled for her.

So, it was my first friend's wedding, and my first bridesmaid experience.  Allie will be getting married next April, and I will be a bridesmaid again.  And I know that I have lots more weddings and bridesmaid duties ahead of me.

It was also the first time I packed someone else's apartment in 24 hours, and well, my fingers are crossed that it was the last time for that.  I also hope that it will be the last time that the framers mess up my wedding gift....

The last name was supposed to be MEYER...  Yeah, I cried about this too.  Gosh, I need to pull myself together.