A Bubble Maker's Dream

Lately, it seems as though my life is a bubble maker's dream; everyday, something shifts, something changes, something is moved by the winds of anything. There are times that I genuinely feel that my life no longer has any direction, that I'm just floating on the breeze and going where it takes me; "nobody knows from whence it comes or to where it goes."

Last Tuesday, my mom kicked me out of the house and I had to move to Josh Riley's apartment in DeKalb. Then, he talked me into signing a lease with him for a crazy expensive apartment in Sycamore. Then, he told me that his little brother would still be living with him (thus, since the new place has only two bedrooms, he wouldn't have much room for me). Then, my mom apologized and asked me to move home. Then, on Saturday night, my stepdad drove to DeKalb to repack all of my things and I am now, once again, living at home.

For how long?, who knows.

Notwithstanding my current homelessness, the horizon seems hopeful. I'm really hoping I can get some serious coin saved up so I can take my Eurotrips in the Spring and the Fall of 2010 -- 2-3 months in Ireland in the Spring, teaching English as a second language in the Fall for six months. I'm also hoping that the substitute teaching gig will fall into place; maybe I can get a night/weekend job as a waiter to supplement my income.

Who knows -- maybe Daddy's Day Magazine is going to be successful, so I can get wildly rich and never work again. I can't wait to be The Man.

The sun also rises.

A Little On Edge

I have to get out of Yorkville, first chance I get.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Last night, as I was laying on my futon, watching Extras in my bedroom, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, walk past my door, then stop in the kitchen. Some things rustled, a chair was pulled out and pushed back in, the door to the garage opened and shut, the car outside started and that was it.

It was about one in the morning.

Two hours later, the garage door open and shut, the footsteps went past my door and back up the stairs towards my mom and stepdad's bedroom. I knew it was my mom coming and going in the wee hours of the morning, because my stepdad, Bob, was sound asleep in his recliner in the living room with the television still on.

The question, then, is, What was my mother doing leaving the house at one in the morning and not coming back until three in the morning?

God only knows, but I can imagine.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Last week, an old coworker, Ron, showed up at the pool and got drunk. I confiscated the wine from him and kicked him out after he offended me by making fun of my faith and said wildly inappropriate things to two fourteen year old girls that were swimming.

Two days ago, he showed up at the pool again and volunteered to watch it a while I went to DeKalb to move a couch out of my old apartment. As appreciative as I was that he did that for me, I, once again, had to ask him to leave after saying wildly inappropriate things to some women who were sunbathing and was behaving like a genuine ass. He even introduced me to one of his buddies there as "my stepson, Drew."

That pissed me off. A lot.

But imagine my chagrin when I learned that Ron drunk-dialed my mother last Sunday (the night I kicked him out): "Heya baby -- give me a call sometime."

To make matters worse, when I called my mom today to let her know about all of the things Ron did to piss me off and earn his place as social outcast, she defended him! Not only did she defend him, but after I told her all the reasons I couldn't stand the man, and all the reasons I think he is absolute scum, she replied, "I'm sorry you feel that way."

All of this adds up in my mind to lead me to believe that my mother has slept or is sleeping with Ron.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

For the past two days, I have been trying my damnedest to get some of this freelance work done -- I've had it on my desk for two weeks now and have still only finished two of the seven articles I expected to have done by now. Furthermore, I have three articles awaiting me from Daddy's Day Magazine that I have to finish proofreading and editing by tomorrow morning. So I thought that if I buckled down tonight, put on my headphones and shut the door behind me, I'd be able to zip through all of it by midnight, no problems.

The only problem is that I live at home with a nine year old sister named Morgan and two parents that are dysfunctional, at best. These three people combine for a lot of noise, whether they are arguing, or fighting, or popping into my office every five minutes to give me Cubs vs. Braves updates, or give me apartment complex/pool gossip updates, or Webkinz updates, or just to simply annoy me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Needless to say, I am a little on edge as of late. All this time, I thought my younger sister, Gail, was crazy, irresponsible and stupid for making the decisions she's made in life. I thought she was just another idiot that fell to the wiles of peer pressure, succumbing to drug and alcohol abuse. Now, I have a better understanding of her motivations! This place is a madhouse and even I would do just about anything to get the hell out of here!

To all my friends who have called me in the past couple days and have been made a victim of my malice, I am so, so very sorry. I don't mean to snap and I don't mean to offend. I am under a tremendous amount of stress.

I know this is the enemy tripping me up--this isn't God testing me to see how I respond to overwhelming stress. I know it's the enemy because I snapped both times my best friend sent me text messages telling me which verses in the Bible I should read for comfort.

I flipped out.

"Who is Josh to tell me how to live my life?? How does he know what I'm going through?? Who is he to make suggestions and give advice??"

I was legitimately offended for no reason whatsoever. I was a wild beast in a cage and Josh did a very kind, very gentle thing to comfort me. My parents and even other friends, on the other hand, are picking up sticks and poking them inside the cage just to get me riled up or to hurt me more.

That's how it seems anyway.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And old friend, Sandor, sent me an email and told me he received a vision whilst praying for me. Here's his email:

Hey Drew!

I just read your posting about leaving Dekalb just now. And I was praying for you and the Lord spoke to me, and I felt led to share it with you as a word of encouragement.

I saw the words "Silver Springs" like I was looking at a sign on the road. I wondered why I thought that sounded familiar, then I remembered where it was. It is in Yorkville, Il. I actually went there when I was a kid on a field trip.

I believe the Lord told me that you will go there, if you have not already, and He will minister to you deeply and profoundly.

"They shall not hunger nor thirst; neither shall the heat nor sun smite them: for he that hath mercy on them shall lead them, even by the springs of water shall he guide them." (Isa. 49:10)

I also got these verses for you as well: Jer. 31,1 Kin. 17:1-6, Isa. 35:7, 41:18, and Matt. 6:24-34

Take care bro.

Sandor

I think I'm going to head out there tomorrow with my guitar and my Bible to see what God has for me. I could use some quiet time with God to refocus and to recast my vision of my life.

So Long, DeKalb

As promised, I am updating my blog to fill you in on some things you have probably missed unless you are intimately acquainted with me...

. . . .

The most drastic change is my new surroundings. Well, maybe not "new" so much as it is "familiar;" I moved home, last week, to Yorkville, Illinois. Glorious, glorious Yorkville. Everyone knows I lost my job back in January, and it may come as no surprise that I endured the entirety of my six month unemployment benefits period without finding a job. Sure I sent out well over 150 resumes in those six months and only interviewed with three companies, but I just couldn't manage to land a position.

I think, when you're unemployed for six months and have no prospects, it's time to start packing and head home.

A few friends disagreed -- they thought I should stay in DeKalb and "stick it out." Well, that's a nice sentiment and I do appreciate their desire for me to stay around so that we can continue our friendships in a more geographically desirable situation, but I think that "sticking it out" in DeKalb would have ultimately been wildly irresponsible on a few levels:

1) I have a passionate dislike for DeKalb. Sorry, but it's true. Northern Illinois University is a wonderful school and a great campus, but the rest of DeKalb is a hodgepodge mosaic of down and outers, stragglers, rednecks, yuppies and other scary, scary people. The town is run down and has no real cultural hotspot besides The House Cafe (which, I will admit, is fantastic) and a series of bars. I've been wanting to leave DeKalb from the moment I got there. There's absolutely nothing for me there. To have stayed would have been to perpetuate my misery.

2) My understanding is that the unemployment benefits period expires after six months. Two weeks from today will mark the sixth month that I've been unemployed and so, to my understanding, I will stop receiving handouts from the government then. It would be foolish for me to stay in DeKalb when I can't pay my rent nor any of my bills.

3) If I'm going to achieve any of my goals (namely, moving to Ireland, traveling, buying a house, opening up my used bookstore), I'm going to need to save up money. Unfortunately, I cannot think of a career in DeKalb that will enable me to do that whilst paying the outrageous amount for rent I was being charged. Furthermore, living in Yorkville puts me closer to the places where work will be easier to find (Aurora, Naperville, Oswego, Chicago). Living at home, where I have no rent or utilities, will enable me to save exponentially more money than I would have been able to save on my own.

4) It's time to do something different. Retreating to homebase will allow me to gather my thoughts, calm down, get perspective, reorganize, recast my visions and more focus to follow through.

So it is "So long, DeKalb!" Don't hear me wrong -- as excited as I am to be out of that place, it is going to be a strange experience moving home. First and foremost, I am going to miss some of the people I am leaving behind. Inasmuch as I am, in a way, "leaving them behind," I want them all to know that I'm not abandoning nor forsaking my relationships. Just because I live in Yorkville doesn't mean we're not friends anymore. Right? I will have some fond memories of DeKalb, though those memories won't have anything to do with the town itself -- my memories will be of the people that helped me get through the past few years.

And now that I'm home, I will have all the time in the world to reflect on those memories. I've been living here in Yorkville for about five days now.

Things are okay.

Things are decent.

Things are what they are.

I knew going into this that this wasn't going to be a bed of roses, or a walk in the park, or a walk through a bed of roses. I knew that moving back to my chaotic, dysfunctional home would be a challenge -- I knew it would be a dogfight keeping myself motivated to face another day. I am going to need God's grace to be able to make it here. I understand that.

I am hopeful that by strangely looking forward, I will make it through this.

Where Was My Welcome Committee?

Today is my first day back home. I just spent the last three days on a road trip that sent Josh, Sam, Aaron and I through Indiana, into Ohio and back again. This trip was designed to allow Josh the opportunity to visit his brother and sister-in-law and for him to explore the possibility of attending seminary at Ashland University (www.ashland.edu/seminary). On the way home, I was going to get the chance to meet Megan -- a young lady I've been conversing with over the past few weeks. For all of us, the trip was meant to be eye-opening, revealing and an opportunity to find our callings, our destinations and, ultimately, ourselves.

Until I talked to Megan about the possibility of meeting on Friday, on our way home, I was just going to tag along for the ride -- I don't have anything better to do since I don't have a job and the friends I hang out with the most were going on this trip. So the first two days of the trip, I reasoned, had little to nothing to do with me -- I'm not interested in going to seminary, I'm not really too interested in moving to Ohio and I can't even find a job in Illinois, let alone one in Ohio!

I did manage, though, to find a hint of direction for my life in those first two days.

Visiting Ashland Seminary was an incredible experience. The staff and faculty -- particularly Eric and Glenn -- that helped us out were some of the coolest people I've met. Since that particular day was reserved for counseling majors, and since Josh isn't interested in counseling, there wasn't much for the two of us to do. Realizing that, Glenn and Eric stepped up to the plate to show us around the campus themselves, giving us a personalized tour. Glenn took us out for coffee, paying for our drinks from his own pocket, then walked us around the Ashland University campus and explained what services would be available to us as students. He also showed us the chapel that the church he pastors meets in.

After that, we took part in one of the seminary's chapel services. Josh and I both had a profound spiritual experience in that place. At eleven in the morning. On Thursday.

It just goes to show you that the Spirit is always available. Always.

During lunch, Glenn and Eric both sat with us and we discussed television and music and movies and comedians and politics; we even discussed the possibility of the school adding a new concentration (creative writing) to their Masters of Divinity degree -- very real things. These two people stripped themselves of their recruiter roles and became very real people.

After lunch, Eric took Josh and I to their archaeology museum. And by that, I mean "Eric broke into the archaeology museum for us."

There's a part of me that kinda wants to go to seminary after that experience. Perhaps I will blog on this later.

The next day, we went to Columbus and had an amazing time in an amazing city. There's a big part of me that would like to move there someday. Perhaps I will blog on this later too.

For me, meeting Megan was the highlight of the trip. I will definitely blog on this later.

I hated coming home. "Home." Home to a town I can't stand, to a house I can't stand, to a neighborhood I can't stand. "Home." Home to a place I've been wanting to leave since the moment I got here.

And where was my welcoming committee? All my friends knew I was in Ohio, or at least had plenty of resources available to find out I was in Ohio. I updated my Twitter several times, I even talked to some of them while on the road. Megan was the only one to ask me how my trip was when I got back. My welcoming committee was a hundred drunk NIU students milling about in the streets, partying and holding up traffic.

Don't hear me wrong -- I'm not complaining about my friends or anything like that. I'm not throwing myself a pity party here. What I am saying, though, is that in my mind, all of the events of the past three days are incredibly indicative of what I should be doing with my life. It could very well be time to move and Columbus, Ohio could very well be the place to move.

I'll be counting on a miracle to make that a reality, but I serve a great, big God Who specializes in the miraculous.

I'm not worried.

* * *

Be on the lookout for another couple of blogs, chronicling the events of the past three days.