At least I still have my health

I interrupt this regular schedule program of not writing or giving a general crap to give you this sunset and a blog post!

In the new year, I resolved a few things: 1) To find a job 2) To blog more/more consistently 3) To, perhaps, run/exercise a bit more. So far I've been lacking on all three...well, unless you count doing jumping jacks to get warm because I'm trying to cut down on the cost of heating the house by keeping the thermostat low. To be honest, it's hard to blog when there's not much to blog about. I'm rounding into my second year of full time unemployment and were I to keep up a blogging schedule the bulk of the content would be about the terrible reality shows that I watch, how I walked to get the mail today, and the state of the neighbors' dogs when they come over for treats.

All that being said, I have been living in North Carolina for over half a year now! In this time living here, I've noticed that it is way too easy to spend my days wallowing in my own self pity and despair (hence the lack of updates) than it is to be grateful for the sunnier side of life. And so, in keeping with my devolution into mediocre writing skills (see, how the negativity so easily rears its head?), here are the things I am blessed to have and grateful for:

• Jack
• Kale for $0.99 a pound at the grocery store. At least I can assuage my guilt for eating at Chick-Fil-A by eating more kale purchased at a ludicrously low price. EDITED! 03/21/13: I just went to the store today and the price of kale has gone up to $1.29/lb--what is this, Seattle? There is officially nothing redeeming about this area.

And, because I need some perspective as to why I need the above list in my life, here are the things that suck about the area:

• It's very nearly impossible to find a mid-level professional job because the area is still mostly agricultural and seasonal. I think it's one of the few areas in the country where a college degree means next to nothing. Ask me how demoralizing it is to not get a job where one of the few requirements was to have graduated high school.
• Follow up. I think it's nice to follow up when people leave voicemail messages or say they will send an email with information, but I guess that's not the norm here. I've now realized that it's easier to pull teeth than to get companies (utility companies, especially) to follow up and maybe return/pick up a call or two, because, I guess, either people don't care about the money we want to lavish on them or this is some sick, demented version of Island time. 
• Loud rain. Some may call it heavy rain, but I'm going to call it like it is: loud. At least in the Pacific Northwest the rain had to decency to fall in a constant, near mist so that it is quiet and allow people to sleep through the night. Not so in the South! Here it is loud, thunderously announcing its arrival in the middle of the night so that you are awoken from your semi-deep slumber and unable to go back to sleep to continue that dream about hanging with Liz Lemon on 30 Rock.

Dear Derek

Dear Derek,

It's been two years since you've left us, but you've never really left our thoughts, our conversations, or our lives. Mentions of you are still sprinkled here and there...usually bringing laughs, sometimes a bit of sadness, but mostly laughs and good memories.

Some time ago, probably around the time of my birthday, because it's only three days before yours and it's one of many little triggers that jog my memory back to you, it occurred to me that we are all getting so much older. We are now closer to 30s than we are to our 20s, but I'll always remember you as eternally 26. It feels easy to wallow in what may have been, but I'm going to wax nostalgic for all the adventures we were fortunate enough to experience together.

One of the best hikes that I have been on were the hunt for chanterelles. We would take some mountain road off Highway 2, drive as far as we could go, park by the end of the road (literally, the trail was washed out by the river), hike some ways and then we would encounter this magical land filled with chanterelles just ripe for the picking. The last time we went, you were the only one who remembered the trail to the magical chanterelle land and also the only one with enough sense to bring along an orange vest, because it was hunting season and none of us had plans to be mistaken for a deer and get shot. You were also the only one who more or less knew what they were doing. You checked Jen's bag and noticed there were a few non-chanterelles (and potentially poisonous mushroooms, thus saving her life) that had made it's way in there and informed me (only after we were done with our picking) that we were supposed to cut off the stems of the chanterelles not rip them out of the ground so that they may regrow next year. It was a fun afternoon, being one with our inner gatherer. Afterward we all went back to your place, where we found your very nice drawings of scantily clad women. We probably made fun of you for drawing lewd pictures and you probably said something snarky back at us.

I remember the trip because it was just another ordinary thing we did for fun. It wasn't a particularly revelatory experience that shone a light on some significant symbolism of our friendship and I'm glad for that. I worry that the longer time passes, the more I'll tend to impart some important moral theme over our friendship, and forget that the important thing to remember is just the memories of friends hanging out with one another, trading barbs, and enjoying each other's company. And it doesn't need to be given any extra layer of meaning or symbolism to feel more significant.