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Can you go home again?

That’s a question I’ve asked myself a lot lately. Depending on the day, it has different answers.

When I announced that I was moving back to my parents house, I was met with one universal response–shock followed by concern. Rachel even put a bet on how long I could survive living under my parents’ roof.

I’ve spent the last four months with good and bad moments. I’m eternally thankful that I had my family near me when I transitioned back into Tennessee life. While I think you need a full six months to adjust to major life changes, I’ve established a schedule and carved out a happy life here. There have been some tough moments including my 6-week mental fog when my anemia went into overdrive, and I could barely stay awake all day.

However, things haven’t been so happy here at home. Gradually, my mom and I are driving each other crazy.

It’s not surprising. We’re exactly alike. And I don’t mean normal mother/daughter likeness. Clone is a better term. (Actually, Christine, a SOC kid, described me as a spawn of my mother.) When your 51-year-old original meets the 26-year-old hybrid and both are in bad moods, well fireworks occur. We’re equally stubborn, willful women who know each other too well. After being on my own for a number of years and attaining a steady income, there’s no reason to prolong the misery.

So, I’ve decided to get my own place.

I’ve been praying about it for a while and now seems like the right time. A friend from church is equally anxious to move out of her parents home (she’s never left), so we’re looking for a place. Thankfully, Chatt is cheap, so I’m looking at $300-400 a month compared to $800-$1,000.

At least, I’m experienced on Craig’s List now. I also won’t be spending $75 a month just to store my stuff.

Ughh…Washingtonienne

I moved to DC after the Washingtonienne scandal hit the streets. However, I quickly clued into Jessica Cutler’s blog and found it to be revolting drivel. Aside from gushing about how awesome she was and offering up her inane opinions occasionally on TV, all she posts are links to lingerie sales. Not surprising given that she works for the escort agency connected to Elliot Spitzer.

Nonetheless, I stumbled upon several copies at McKays this weekend. I’ve been repeatedly told that I needed to read it after experiencing DC culture.

Wow. Revolting drivel doesn’t capture my feelings toward that book. Slime, disgust, debauchery, self-absorption, immaturity, bitch, slut and stupid come to mind.

Here is obviously a very bright woman with a talent for writing. However, she repeatedly throws it away for booze, drugs and one-night stands. Whatever mental illnesses she may have (in the book Jacqueline is finally diagnosed as a depressed alcoholic), she keeps finding new opportunities to change her life and purposely refuses. I guess this shows that you have to have the maturity and awareness that the world doesn’t revolve around you in order to climb out of problems.

She does nail DC culture. Boy does she capture it. Every time I’m tempted to think about moving back there, I need to pick this book up. Ughh. DC has wonderful attributes, but it’s a moral cesspool.

One thing stood out though. I’ve been to every. single. bar. mentioned. in. the. book. Yep. That’s correct. Every single bar. I may not be promiscuous or tempted to use illegal substance or abuse prescription drugs, but I’m spent my fair share of time in bars. Ugh. The sad thing is, I didn’t even go out that much compared to most of the culture. So glad those lush years are over.

It’s been nearly a month since my last post, but that’s ok. I’m still reveling in my new-found privacy. Even though blogging is completely voluntary, after five years I felt obligated to do it. To share every neurosis, every political opinion, every absurd thing that happened to me. Admittedly, lots of absurd things happen to me, so there was always fresh material.

I’m still tweeting though. Twitter has replaced my fascination with blogging. The techies have found a new shiny object, my friends.

So anyways. Work is crazier than I could have ever imagined. As much as I love this city, there are a bunch of whacked out people with money running all kinds of crazy behind the scenes and occasionally in front of them. Every few weeks, I inadvertently encounter them. This week’s encounter was particularly entertaining. It made me realize that fighting the insidious tobacco industry was easier than navigating the complexities of Chattanooga’s society and trying to raise money for a nonprofit with honorable intentions. I could either get mad and bitter or just quietly laugh at the ridiculous pettiness of rich people and remember to treat them carefully in the future. Why does money make people think that they’re important?

I’ve long contemplated writing a book about the quirks of Chattanooga. If I didn’t know that exposing them would get me blacklisted in this town, I’d do it. In DC, you expect to encounter power and corruption. It goes with a territory. In Chattanooga, you just blindly run into the petty power plays and turf battles that people have for no reason other than that they can.

It always makes me happy that I was raised so solidly middle class.

This week, I get to experience more of that world. My friends, (please don’t judge me on this) I’m joining the Junior League. I know. Believe me, I know. I’m hoping that my cynicism saves me from the fate of wearing pastel capris with embroidery. (Sorry if I offend, Lore’, but Chattanooga is SOOOO much more snobby than Knox. We have the Old Southern Money issue.) My track record isn’t that great since I nose-dived into sorority land back into college. Thankfully, I’m too busy with work to form a new obsession on social climbing.

So why am I doing it? I’m not sure. I’m anxious to do more networking. Yes, I’m involved with YPAC, YRs and Tower Club, but often those are the same people. This week, I recieved a JL newsletter, and I only recognized two names. Of course, one of them is the person in Chattanooga who absolutely despises me and has tried to cause as much drama for me as possible. (See there’s a loose plot here already for a novel! This book is dying to be written.). However, I am joining an organization that raises a lot of money for the community and provides an outlet for me to volunteer.

I just try to reconcile that with the fact that my master’s degree is from one of the most liberal activist schools in the country. It makes me giggle.

This month, I also learned how important iron is in your diet. For most of June and July, I was in a mental fog that I couldn’t lift. It was horrible. I barely had enough energy to get myself out of bed and dressed. Then I had the whole day ahead of me. I started going to bed earlier and earlier, eliminated caffeine, but I was still fatigued. I wasn’t sick, but just extremely tired. There was no getting out of work, so I just got worse and worse. Finally, I had trouble with my asthma, so I went to the doctor. The first thing she did was run a blood test on me. Yep. I was anemic.

I’ve been borderline anemic since college, so I usually take iron supplements. For some reason back in February or March, I ran out and didn’t replace them. Since I eat very little red meat, my iron levels kept getting lower. This was the first time in my life that I have full-fledge anemia. Within a week of eating hamburgers and taking supplements, I felt normal again. Isn’t it amazing that one vitamin deficiency can make your life miserable. Makes me realize how intricately God designed our bodies.

Off to cram in some work before the week starts tomorrow.

It’s been about a month since this blog went private. Surprisingly, I’m not missing splashing the mundane details of my life across the Internets. I do miss my occasional muckraking though. However, having a career in nonprofit development does not mesh well with exposing the dirty, little secrets of the Scenic City. The frustrating thing is that now I’m up close and personal with all those secrets. There are things in this town that make my blood boil, and it kills me that I can’t expose them.

Tonight, Mom and I finished the Sermon on the Mount series at Precept. Matthew 7 closes with the parable of the man who built his house on a rock vs. the man who built his house on the sand (and the walls came tumbling down…). Mom looked at me and said, “it seems like we’ve been getting a lot of storms lately.” After I realized that she was talking about something deeper than the weather (naturally, I’m still blond), I had to agree. It seems like everyone around me is fighting a lot of storms.

Last week, Beka’s mom passed away. Lore’ is trying to get custody of her little brother. Several friends are desperately seeking jobs in Chattanooga. My Dad is trying to get back to Chattanooga… It seems to go on and on. Plus, God has thrown a few curve balls at me lately that I may write about later. For now, I’m just praying about some stuff.

Work is tough right now. Situations aren’t ideal. After having two amazing bosses who instantly clicked with me, I’m struggling to understand my boss’ management style. This is also the first time that I’m senior staff. I’ve managed people before, but I was mid-level. Now, I’m at the top (and not making that much to show for it), so I’m held responsible for things. Ironically, I took a job in fundraising as the economy turned sour. All the nonprofit newspapers and journals are reporting decreased donations. This makes the situation hard when I’m trying to prove myself. The average Director of Development in Chattanooga is mid-thirties to fifties. I’m 26. Reverse ageism is something that I encounter and fight every day. There is also a lot unreported prejudice from Boomers to Millenials, but that could be a dissertation topic. One of my grad school professors wrote a book about how Boomers are the greater generation. I’d like to write a book about how Boomers screwed up our country.

Maybe I do need to pursue my PhD and focus on generational differences. Millenials have a lot to offer but we’re shortchanged because low expectations from Boomers and Xers.

On that note, good night folks.

Give Me Your Eyes

Everyone once in a while, songs come out that mirror where I am in my spiritual journey. Lately, it’s been two Brandon Heath songs. “I’m Not Who I Was” perfectly echoes how I feel regarding several issues that have occurred over the last few years. Situations that I didn’t handle well, but I only just realized that recently wish for a do-over. Then Heath released the first single from his new album. This is an amazing prayer that reminds me to remove “me” from my prayers and see the hurt going on around me.

A guilty pleasure is VH1’s I love series. Tonight, I fell into the blackhole of episodes 2000-2003. Aside from realizing how huge the original iPod was for only a few gigs, I think this is one of the funniest Bush parodies that I’ve ever seen.

Last night, I the wonderful Jenkins’ brought me to pasta night at the Chattanooga Gulf and Country Club. Ummmm!

Over dinner, we discussed their upcoming trip to NCC’s Unplugged Conference. I’m thrilled that they’ll get to visit a church that meant so much to me and helped me through an extremely difficult time in my spiritual life. Not only is NCC and amazing church, but they’ll get to experience my second DC home–Ebz.

We brainstormed what tourist activities to do, and I shared locations, tips and hints about visiting DC. As I sat there giving directions to and explaining where things were in relation to the Mall, I noticed no pang of sadness that I wasn’t there.

I expected to miss DC. I really did. Whenever I talked about Chatt in DC, I felt homesick. I haven’t once missed the District. It’s so strange. Living in DC was a goal in my life for long. Now, it’s like another lifetime. It honestly feels like I never left Chattanooga, and there’s this strange insider knowledge of life in our nation’s capital.

What I do miss are people. I miss Rachel, the SOC kids, the NCC crew, my TFK buds and of course Miss Daisy and the Zekester. I hate that I’m missing the second part of Zeke’s puppyhood. He’s such a chilled little dog.

Even with small town drama, I know that I’m supposed to be here. That’s something that I’ve never had before–knowledge that you are absolutely where God wants you to be. Awesome is the only way to describe it.

 

Dana just sent out prayer requests from Embrace this week. Since the new blog is all about being honest, I thought I’d post weekly prayer requests. Please email me if you have any at aroyer@gmail.com.

Embrace Church:*

  • Housing/living place, work, money, my dad and friends”
  • My cousin and her two children. The husband of nine years left them and they have huge emotional and financial burdens right now. Keep them in thoughts and prayers.”
  • My family – especially my mother
  • Just pray for our service men and women; they need God as much as we…”
  • A dear friend slipping away – very troubled – don’t want to lose them”
  • Friends

  • Mrs M’s upcoming custody hearing for her little brother and adjusting to parenting a 14 y.o.
  • Keri, David and kids as they prepare to enter the mission field and move to Spain.
  • Laura’s upcoming wedding
  • Rachel’s grandma as she undergoes chemo for cancer
  • Me

  • Please pray that doors open for my dad to get a promotion in the Chattanooga area. Living 70 miles away in Alabama during the week has been a huge strain on my family.
  • My job is hugely stressful. I lie awake a night thinking that it’s physically impossible to get everything done. I’m immensely happy to be back in Chattanooga, but I’m doing the work of two or three people. The past few weeks, I’ve found myself working until 8 or 8:30 and then going home and working until midnight or 1 a.m. I’m struggling to keep up with my Precept study, spend time with my family and friends and keep up with volunteer/community obligations. I had hoped to either start teaching or start working on my PhD, but I just don’t see how that’s possible without intervention at this point. As I write this, I’m struggling to finish a grant that has to be in Nashville on Wednesday.
  •  *Since not everyone who reads this is on the Embrace team, I made these anonymous.

    The other day I decided that I’d write a musical devoted to Chattanooga if I were musically inclined.

    Setting: the Scenic City

    Two star-crossed lovers struggle to find an affordable downtown home. One works in the dying manufacturing industry. The other in tourism. Will their love survive a mayor determined to destroy the city in order to avenge the legacy of his predecessor?

    Songs would include:

  • The Man from Soddy-Daisy
  • One Condo Development More
  • Volkswagon Plant, I never knew you
  • Climb Lookout Mountain
  • On the 21st Century Waterfront
  • North Chatt Blues
  • It’s a Redevelopment Life

    The show would end with a rousing chorus of “Live it. Love it. It’s Chattanooga.”

  • Going Private

    Welecome to the the privitized GFTS. Actually, I want to call it GFTS:Unleashed. I’ve only allowed in people whom I trust, so I can be completely honest.

    Here’s what happened.

    Soon after starting my new job, my boss told me that she tracked my blog. This was the third time that I’ve encountered that. At TFK, there was intense resistance to blogging. We went through a six month process to start a youth blog. I was lucky in that Carter, my boss, was a fellow blogger and respected the boundaries that I set up. I never blogged about work details or the policy issues surrounding tobacco. I’m used to this.

    The new job was different. Any reference to work was suspect, which I understand. She likes my writing, but asked me to remove comments like, “today was hard. I’m super busy. etc.”

    I was  a bit miffed at that. I exercise my first amendment to the fullest extent. But whatever. Chattanooga is a small town, so I understand her concern.

    Yesterday, I discovered that I upset a power couple in the Scenic City. I wrote a few posts on local politics last year. Apparently one post (which was tame for my writing) threw a bunch of people for a loop and upset my previous employeers. NO ONE CONTACTED ME. Although several people had my cell phone number, email address or the ability to comment, I didn’t hear a peep. I even came back and did some volunteer work for the people that were invovled. No one said a word. My boss only found out when she had lunch with one half of the power couple. She asked me to apologize and be more careful.

    Last night, this really ticked me off. The more I thought about it, the more angry I got.  I understand that Chattanooga is a small town, but this is a free society. When you enter the political world, all is fair. What I wrote was completely accurate. At the time that I wrote the post in question, I was completely anonymous on the web. I went public about two months after it was posted. How did people figure out who wrote it?

    This morning, the pieces came together. I couldn’t understand how a group of people who are extremely unlikely to read my blog figured it out. It was also anonymous. How did that happen?

    I have my suspicions, but they’re suspicions. To say antyhing would be spreading gossip.  While what I wrote was honest and accurate, it was wrong of me to do it, and now my reputation will pay the price.

    In the long run, I’m glad that this happened. My ego got too big when it comes to blogging. Because it’s the virtual world, I say things that I would never dare to say in person. EVER. My blog allows me to be the confrontational person that I’m not in real life.

    It was also the impetus to change things up. As I said on my last post of the public GFTS, things had gotten stale. I’m excited about the future of adrienneroyer.com. That site will strictly cover nonprofit strategy and social media. Eventually, my dream is to open up my own shop. If I ever manage to get married and have kids, I’ll want a flexible job. My own business would allow me to call the shots. That’s something that I dream about every day.

    Spirtually, I’ve been struggling with blogging. Mom and I are taking a Precept class on the Sermon on the Mount. This is the most convicting Bible study that I’ve ever encountered. Every week, it drives nails into my soul. Mom is having the same reaction. The first person to complete that week’s lesson usually warns the other about how convicting it is.

    As I’ve studied the beattitudes, I’ve been strongly convicted that most of my posts were not gentle, meek or encouraged peacemaking. But how do you write about politics in a gentle manner? Politics, by its very nature is power-hungery, corrupting and vengeful. The last time that I checked those weren’t in Matthew 5.

    I’m also more open to discussing faith here. That’s a difficult subject to write about in an open platform. I’m such a flawed person that I hate looking hypocrtical as my walk with Christ slowly grows. It’s just easier to be a secular person in the public sphere.

    Thus, you have my reasons for going private. I’ve created one user name for the next week. Please log in and create your own wordpress ID. After next week, I’ll delete that user name.

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