The License Plate Prophecy: A Farce

Well, Readers.
I am finally feeling recovered from my rather unfortunate first experience with subbing, so as promised I am bringing the story of my first and only interview–also a disaster.
As I have mentioned, I graduated from college in April of 2013. I applied for my first job in May, and to date I have had one single interview. To say that my job hunt is going poorly is something of an understatement.

Am I laughing or am I crying?

I have been very vocal about my struggles with the job hunt, both here and on Facebook, and so a lot of my friends are well aware of my problems. And since I have great friends, they look to help me out. About a month ago, my friend Amanda, whom I met at college, let me know about a job opening that she thought I should apply for at the place where she worked. It was a clerical position at the Oklahoma City Parks and Recreation department.
Wait, wait, a job at the Parks and Rec department? So what you’re saying is I might get this job and start making money again? Because you know what that would mean….

Another great thing about this job is that it was part-time, which meant I would be able to be off by 2 every day– which was perfect because I had accepted a position as a coach for an under six girls soccer team. We had practices early in the afternoon during the week, and so I would be able to get off work in plenty of time to make it to their practices. So I jumped online and applied, feeling like things were finally looking up for me.
I met with the contact parent for the team I was supposed to coach, things went great, and we had everything arranged. A week later, I checked with Amanda to see when they would begin reviewing applications, and she told me that their building had actually flooded and so they would have to deal with that before they started looking into hiring anybody.
I was somewhat disappointed, but not discouraged. Then, shortly after that I got a message from the contact parent on my team– one of the dads had decided he wanted to coach, and so they didn’t need me after all.

I’ll admit, I was pretty crushed.
And then, even more time passed and I never heard anything back on the Parks and Rec job, and I grew slowly more depressed. When my bank account went below $100 for the first time since I opened it, I knew I had to do something. My sister, who recently graduated with her second college degree in Early Childhood Education, suggested that I  attend sub training and start subbing. It seemed the only option at that point. And so I went to sub training, requested a replacement social security card , a paid for a sixty dollar background check so I could start subbing (you can read about that in my last post)

Two days later, I got a call from my friend Amanda’s boss asking me if I could do an interview.

Come ONNNN

But I didn’t want to turn down a job opportunity, so I scheduled an interview.
A little while later, Amanda gave me a heads up that I wouldn’t even be interviewing for the job I had originally applied for. Instead, I would be interviewing for a front desk job dealing with people’s calls and anyone who came into the office. Wait, wait, wait… people? You want me to deal with people?!
I felt my stomach sink. I can’t deal with people, guys. I am shy, and non-confrontational, and easily overwhelmed in unfamiliar social situations, as I am sure you all are well aware if you read my blog regularly. A front desk job was exactly the opposite of what I wanted to be doing.
I started talking it over with my family, and the more we discussed it, the more we realized that it would probably be better for me if I just went ahead with subbing. I was going to be making the same amount, the commute was nonexistent, I wouldn’t have to ask off right after getting the job for when we went on vacation during Spring Break, and I had already agreed to sub for my mom. I realized that I had agreed to an interview for a job I didn’t want to take.
I immediately got in touch with Amanda to talk it over with her. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to get me the interview and to recommend me to her boss, and I felt terrible her hard work was going to waste. But Amanda is very kind, and she was completely understanding. She suggested that I go ahead and come in just to talk things over with them and to get the experience of interviewing.
Ah, if only I had known what kind of experience it was going to be.

My interview was scheduled for nine in the morning in downtown Oklahoma City. According to my GPS, the drive should take 26 minutes, so I woke up at 7:20 to make sure I would have plenty of time to get ready and still make it down there in case traffic was bad. I left at 8:20, a little later than I wanted but still with plenty of time to make it–or I should’ve. But of course the drive was worse than I thought, with lots of traffic, and I didn’t make it to downtown until about 8:50. But ten minutes was surely going to be plenty of time to park and find my way to the Parks and Rec building.
Ah, the naivete of youth.
I was excited because whenever you came in for an interview, you could park in a specific parking garage downtown and the department would pay for it. Now, as you all may recall from when I missed my friend’s wedding because my GPS stopped working, I am very bad with directions and navigating. So when it finally occurred to me that the parking garage they had told me to park at was on the corner of two streets that were not the same as the street the Parks and Rec building was on, I got a little nervous. I just started turning down streets, and luckily for me, it only took me a couple extra minutes to find the parking garage. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled in.
Not so luckily, however, this was one of the most confusing parking garages I had ever been in, and I could not seem to figure out what way to go. It was also packed, because it was a Monday morning in downtown, and there was no sign of a spot anywhere. I came around a corner, and was almost hit by another car. I shot her a dirty look, confused as to why she was driving right down the middle of the aisle, and kept going. I came around another corner, and was almost hit by another car.
It was at this point that I realized I was going the wrong way down the one way section of the parking garage.

Did I take stupid pills this morning??

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

You know what one of the worst things about doing something really stupid is? It’s when you know you’re doing something stupid, but you can’t fix it. Somehow, I had managed to get into an area that was only supposed to be an exit.
parking garage

 

I was driving as carefully as I could, ashamed and confused, trying to desperately to find a parking spot I could pull into and turn around in. But, as I mentioned, the parking garage was packed, and there was nothing. I was on the fourth level and had almost been hit by two or three cars when I realized that I was just going to have to try and pull into a corner, as close to a car as I could, and then pull an Austin Powers and try to slowly pull forward and back until I could turn around.

I have been reduced to Austin Powers.

I got as far over in the one way aisle as I could, and tried to wait until no cars were coming, fervently hoping that no one was going to come around the corner and hit me first. Finally, after three cars came around the corner, almost hit me, and honked vociferously, the coast was finally clear. I made my move, and pulled up as close to the car on one side of the aisle as I could.

If nothing else, I learned that a job I would not be suited for is construction or architecture.

If nothing else, I learned that I would not be suited for a job in construction, architecture, or design.

I got right up close to the car, and then I noticed that their license plate said “HITNRUN” on it. I laughed a little and thought to myself, Haha better not hit them! After I had pulled up as close as I could, I started backing slowly up, hoping no one would come around the corner. I had almost enough room to cut the wheel, when suddenly I felt a bump. I froze, and slowly turned around.
And that was when I realized I had backed into the van behind me.

I managed to turn around and get facing the right way, but I made sure to back up and pull really close to the van I had just hit. Luckily, it was very large, very sturdy, and I had hit it going very, very slowly. There was not even a mark on it that I could see.
Please don’t call the cops on me, but I was the perpetrator of a hit and run.
That’s right. Hit and run. Does that sound familiar? Remember how I told you that the car in front of me said “HITNRUN” on the license plate? Yeah. I pulled up to a car that said hit and run on in, and then I hit the car behind me and ran.

And yet, it was happening. I swear this to you…  you can’t make that kind of stuff up. You just can’t.

Finally I managed to get going the right way, expecting at any moment that a policeman was going to show up behind me and arrest me. Again, as I mentioned, the parking lot was full, and I simply kept driving and driving and driving to find a spot. Finally, on the 8th floor out of 9, I found a place and pulled in. It was nine o’ clock by this point, and I was late. I rushed to the elevators, got in, and then realized I had no idea where I was going.
Somehow, it had never occurred to me to ask how I got from the parking garage to the Parks and Rec office. Vaguely in the back of my mind I was apparently just thinking that the two would be connected. But again, they weren’t on the same streets. Confused, terrified, and anxious, I took the elevator to the ground floor and started wandering along the street. I walked a block up to Main Street, but then had no idea which way to go. I picked left and started walking, but after awhile I realized the numbers were going the wrong way. I tried to look as far as I could down the other way, but saw no signs relating to the Parks and Rec department.
At this point I was utterly bewildered. I was freezing cold because I hadn’t brought a heavy jacket or gloves, not having connected that I was going to have to walk. I was late, and had no idea where to go.
Finally I messaged Amanda, who THANKFULLY responded very quickly, asking me to call her. I did so, and followed her directions, crossing a street and walking down the other way until I finally stumbled upon the entrance. I made my way to the elevator, arrived at the second floor, and went into the first office I saw. I had thought my friend Amanda would be at the front desk, but there was no sign of her. I was ten minutes late by this point.
The lady at the desk was on the phone, and I had to wait almost five minutes before she was done. She was very apologetic, and I told her I was there for an interview. Then she asked me who I was there to see.
My mind went completely blank.

Ohhh… uhhhh…. ummmm…..

“Karen?” I asked hesitantly.
“Great, I will let her know!” the friendly receptionist said.
Oh thank God, I guessed right.
At that moment, however, Karen came walking by, and the receptionist told her I was there for an interview. She looked slightly panicked, and told me to just have a seat for a few minutes because she had to meet with her boss. I collapsed onto a nearby bench, drained.
After a few minutes, I was relieved when Amanda finally appeared. She told me that she was afraid Karen had forgotten she had the interview with me. At that point, I had no desire to go near the parking garage anytime soon, so I wasn’t too worried that I was going to have to wait. After ten or fifteen minutes, Karen finally came for me and called me back. I had thought that Amanda might have mentioned that I wasn’t going to take the job, so I went in thinking that they might just talk to me in case I ever did apply for a job with them again.
I was slightly startled when Karen brought another lady in to help with the interview process, and when we sat down and she started to ask me questions, I realized that she was really going to interview me.
“So what do you want to tell us about yourself?” she asked me.

Uhhhh…. weeeeeeell, actually….

I then haltingly began to explain how I hadn’t heard from them in such a long time after applying that I had gone through process of sub training and getting my background, and how I really felt that it would be a better fit since I wouldn’t have to drive thirty minutes every day, etc. etc. As I spoke, I could see their faces getting more and more confused. Finally I wrapped up my stumbling explanation, and told them that I felt terrible and I was so sorry and I just wanted to come and explain everything to them in person.They were incredibly kind and understanding, just like Amanda had been, but I felt like they were just wondering what on earth I was doing there. I felt like the biggest idiot alive. I thanked them, said goodbye to Amanda, and got out of there as fast as I could.  I had still been considering the idea of maybe, possibly taking the job when I left my house that morning, but after everything that I had experienced I don’t think anything could have induced me to do so.

NOOOOOO I AM NEVER SHOWING MY FACE IN OKC AGAIN YOU CAN’T MAKE ME

I made my way back into the infamous parking garage, and naturally got off the elevator on the wrong floor, wandering about for a few minutes before realizing my mistake. In a daze I got back on the elevator, went up to the right floor, and got in my car. I think I drove the carefullest I ever have in my life going out of that parking garage. The whole incident seemed so absurd at this point that I slowed to a crawl as I went by the spot of my ill-fated attempt to turn around. I looked over the van I had bumped into as carefully as possible, still seeing no evidence of my car’s assault upon it. Then, because I was doubting my own eyes, I looked on the other side of the aisle just to confirm that there really had been a car with the license plate “HITNRUN” that also just happened to be the one car out of the hundreds in the nine floor parking garage that I chose to turn around by before fulfilling its unknowing prophecy. I started to take a picture of it, because it seemed impossible anyone could credit the story I was telling without proof, but naturally at this point a car came up behind me, and I had to drive on.
It was a one way garage, after all.
I pulled up to the exit area, thinking there would be a person there to take the ticket I had been given to pay for my parking. But after pulling up, I realized there was no person, and that I had stopped too far away from the ticket machine to put my ticket in. I rolled down the window, hoping against hope that I would be able to reach it but knowing it was impossible. I was going to have to get out of the car and put in two different tickets with three cars waiting behind me.
Out of nowhere, a man appeared, offering to take my tickets and put them in the machine for me. “You’re lucky I was here to do that for you,” he told me scoldingly. I only nodded and thanked him, because of course some random man would happen by just at that moment to put my tickets in for me. Clearly my life was a bad play, and he was just playing his part.
I pulled into the street, and all I could see in my mind was that license plate, emblazoned in big letters “HITNRUN.”
I started laughing, and didn’t stop until I was almost home.

 

And then I died. The end.

Goin’ to the Chapel and I’m Gonna Get Lost

Hello, Readers, and welcome to the new year.
When I was a little girl, every new year I used to make resolutions. Everyone did so; I always heard adults or my friends or people on TV discussing what their new year’s resolutions were, so of course I always had to make my own little list.
This list, which was always very vague, always ended up completely forgotten by Valentine’s Day. I made resolutions just to make resolutions, because that’s what everyone else did, but I was never truly resolved to do anything.

Very briefly.

When I got older, I just stopped making resolutions. People would still ask me, but I never could really think of anything. A few times, I would throw out one of the classics, like to exercise more or lose a few pounds. But eventually, I got to the point where I just shrugged, and admitted that I didn’t have any.

Well, except the only one that mattered.

At some point it occurred to me that the reason I never could think up any resolutions was because I didn’t know what I wanted. My life seemed to have a pretty pre-determined path that included playing soccer, attending school, and working, and there never seemed to be a great deal of room for deviation.
I’ve also always had this weird mental thing where it’s like if I consider how many bad things can possibly go wrong in the year, there’s no way they can sneak up on me and surprise me and therefore they won’t happen. It’s like if I appreciated what I had hard enough, the universe wouldn’t take it from me. Making resolutions and saying I am going to make this, this, and this happen this year, felt almost like I was tempting fate. I had no way to know what an entire year might bring, but trying to impose my plans on it seemed very uppity and presumptuous, like I was asking to have my plans wrecked.
It occurs to me as I type this that I might be something of a pessimist at times.

It’s 50/50, really, what a new year might bring.

In my most recent years, I have occasionally gone a third route, and made resolutions that were almost guaranteed to come true, barring my death or utter catastrophe. A resolution I made for 2013? Graduate college. Which I did, four months after making it. Not even long enough later to forget my resolutions.
I can say, unequivocally, that the months following my graduation made me into a new person–into an adult. The death of my best friend, my sixteen year old cat Boo, and then the subsequent death of my beloved youngest dog, Cash, in my lap were enough to ensure that. But as life-wrecking as those things were for me, 2013 was more than that. For the first time in eighteen years, I had no plan, no clear direction. I’ve found myself in that dreaded quagmire of the college graduate– unemployed with no prospects even remotely relevant to my degree.

I’ve struggled with the inevitable curse of the writer– trying to believe your work is good enough. I worked my butt off and committed to putting time every day into  a book I was writing, only to get sick of it and hate it and completely give it up… only to read it again months later and fall back in love with my own work.

I have wrestled with the reality of relationships and what true love is and the stark truth that it’s not like books or movies, but rather incredibly murky and confusing and often doesn’t work out at all. I’ve come to wonder if I’ll ever even find anyone for me– I’ve also questioned if I even want to find anyone.
But more than anything, in this strange, almost purposeless time in my life, I’ve been thinking. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. When you go from pretty much every day of your life having a regimented purpose, to suddenly being jobless and schoolless, when you no longer really have deadlines or timelines or even really much of an idea what day of the week it is, you have a tendency to spend a lot of time lounging around and thinking about things (or at least I do).

My life right now is a vacation, except it’s one where I never go anywhere or do anything and my money still slowly dwindles away.

But in all this thinking I’ve been doing, especially amidst a lot of upheaval in my life, I’ve been thinking about what it is I want in life. And I finally was ready to resolve something. Finally, I came right out and said to myself– 2014 is going to be a great year. I’m going to make it so.
Let me tell you how that’s gone so far.
One thing I was most excited about in the new year was the fact that one of my long time friends from high school, D’Erin, was getting married on January 4. Now, you probably know if you’ve ever read my blog before that I also have a fashion blog. Well, I’ve had my outfit for D’Erin’s wedding planned since before I even got the invitation to her wedding. D’Erin also made a dream of mine come true–she let me go wedding dress shopping with her. To say I was looking forward to the wedding might have been a bit of understatement.
Throughout December I was searching (in vain) for a pair of gold tights for a reasonable price to go with this dream outfit I had been planning for months, because it was going to be January in Oklahoma and I was going to need me some tights. Never finding anything likely, I settled on a black pair with gold polka dots as my backup, and resolved to go about just making a pair of my own sparkly gold tights. I went to Walmart and started looking up DIY sparkle tights on Pinterest, but unfortunately my phone signal always goes wack in our Walmart and I couldn’t get anything to pull up (make a note of this–it’s intense foreshadowing that I should have paid attention to).  So, I decided to just wing it.
map throw

10,000,000 points to Gryffindor if you got this reference.

10,000,000 points to Gryffindor if you got this reference.

I picked up a pair of white tights–but the cheap, $1.50 ones, just in case. Next I grabbed a bottle of gold glitter.  Then, I literally sat myself down on the floor of Walmart for fifteen minutes trying to decide the best way to affix said glitter to said tights. They had all types of craft glues, but most of them didn’t actually appear to be glues meant to be used on fabrics you were going to wear. There was also fabric stiffener spray, but I could not imagine a world where wearing stiff tights would be enjoyable for me. Then there was a little three pack of glues, one which said “wearable fabric spray glue” and I got very excited, because, hello, that’s exactly what I was needing. But they only had it in the three pack, and the tiny bottle inside it wasn’t going to cut it for an entire pair of tights. So, unless I wanted to buy like three of those packs and spend a lot of money, that wasn’t an option.
Finally, after much deliberation, I simply decided to buy some craft glue and attempt to mix the glitter into it and then sort of paint it on the tights. If that failed, I figured I would just try to stick the glitter to the tights with a whooole lot of hairspray.
I arrived home and busily went about mixing my glue and glitter mixture, which ended up being harder than I thought. When I tried to paint it on a test section of the tights, however, I realized very quickly that it was a disaster and definitely not going to work. So I fell back on plan b.
I set up my tights, congratulating myself on thinking of cutting up a box that a 12 pack of Diet Coke cans came in– each of the sides was the perfect size to put inside the tights to keep them taut and from sticking to each other when I worked on them. I got a box lid to catch all the loose glitter, and went to work. I soaked sections of the tights in hairspray, dumped glitter over them, and then layered over the glitter using more hairspray than Dolly Parton’s hair and hoping for the best.

Ingenious.

Ingenious.

Periodically, I would pause and take the whole contraption into the bathroom, where I would attempt to blow dry the tights to see if the glitter was going to stick or not. Aside from the fact that blowdrying a box containing lots of loose glitter resulted in my face being showered with glitter, the glitter on the tights actually seemed to be sticking.

My bathroom during this process. (Also, this joke never gets old. Never.)

After I finished the second leg, I thought perhaps I should just leave the tights alone to dry, but let’s be honest here, I don’t have that kind of patience and I wanted to know right then just how amazing these things were sure to look. It also occurred to me that perhaps I might not want to let the tights dry too long on the cardboard, because they might stick. I began attempting to remove the cardboard from the first leg of the tights that I had done, only to realize that the tights had, in fact, become stuck to the cardboard.
As I began the process of trying to peel them off, I was struck by how similar it was  to when you try and peel one of those anti-peel stickers off of something you’ve bought, usually a gift that you want to look nice, which means the sticker inevitably rips and leaves gross reside and white bits of paper you can’t get off no matter how hard you try.
In this case, the gross residue and bits of papers was actually represented by the ink from the Coke can box, which had bled all over the white tights after getting wet from the hairspray soaking. At this point, I realized in the back of my mind that there would be no salvaging these, but I’m no quitter (okay that’s patently false) and I was going to try those tights regardless of what they looked like.
When I finally got both cardboard pieces out of them, I decided it would be a wise idea to step into the bathtub when I attempted to put them on, since glitter was falling off of them like snow at the North Pole. I did so, and managed to drag them on. For your benefit, because I value you so deeply, Readers, I did not take a picture of myself in those tights. I did, however, take a few pictures of them all by their lonesome for you to peruse.

20140109_143357

Ooooh

Ooooh

Ahhh

Ahhh

Pretty colors

Pretty colors

Disastrous, I’m afraid. Also, my house is now covered in glitter. So this was how it stood so far:
2014, 1. Sara, 0.
But I mean, hey, it’s just tights, right? Not really that big of a deal. Sometimes (usually) craft projects fail. It happens. I still had my backup tights, and I still had the wedding of my dear friend to look forward to. That was the real point, after all.
So the next day, the day of the wedding, rolls around, and I start getting ready well in advance. I had never been to the church it was at, and I wanted to leave myself plenty of time to get there, find the church, and get myself a seat. I was going by myself, because my two friends I knew would be there were bridesmaids, and, naturally, D’Erin was going to be a little preoccupied getting married, so I didn’t want to come slinking in two minutes before the ceremony started and have everyone turn around and be like who is this weirdo??

Excuse me, pardon me. just trying to sit down– where did Michael Jackson come from???

Don’t mind me!

But of course, since it is me, it didn’t really work out as I’d planned. By the time I left, I was running about five minutes later than I wanted to be, but I was determined to speed my way there. I punched the address into my GPS, hit go, and took off.
Now, to preface this, you need to understand just how little sense of direction I have. Whatever way I’m facing feels like north as far as I’m concerned. I have very poor spatial conception, and I can ride in the car somewhere fifty times and have no clue how to actually drive myself there. I just can’t seem to get a sense of geography in my mind. And when people give me directions, I usually forget them approximately 7.893 seconds after I hear them. Much like math, directions go into my mind and just get all jumbled around.

North? Southeast? These terms mean NOTHING TO ME.

All this means that I rely utterly and totally on my phone GPS to get me places, with the exception of like, four or five specific places I have drove to over and over again. The church my friend was getting married at was not one of those places. It was a church on a service road of the interstate, which means it’s one of those little roads that only run one way, along the side of the interstate, and if you miss your turn or go too far, the only way to get back to it is to drive under the interstate, take the other service road on the other side all the way back down, and then come back up the other way, making a complete circle.
I had a margin of no minutes as I was coming up to end of my GPS navigation– I was already going to be arriving like three minutes after the time the wedding was supposed to start. I wasn’t too worried, however, because most weddings don’t start EXACTLY right on time. As long as I got there quickly, parked, and hustled in, I should be fine.
I exited the interstate onto the service road, and toodled along. Suddenly my GPS told me it was time to turn NOW and I panicked, because the road didn’t look like the right road and I didn’t see a church anywhere– so I overshot it. I got really angry and turned immediately at the next turn, which led into an apartment complex. I was hoping that it might have a through road to the road I should have turned on, so I drove around in it, desperately looking for one.
There wasn’t one.
Worriedly, I pulled out and back onto the service road, and made the first of the numerous loops I was going to be making that evening. I went around the little corner under the interstate, came back up the other way, then cut across again, and got back on the original road I was on. This time, I turned on the street it told me– and it led me right into an apartment complex. Confused, I drove around in it, hoping desperately that the church was somewhere behind it.

“Ummm… is there a church in here somewhere?”

It wasn’t.
I pulled my GPS back up, and typed the address in again, just in case I hadn’t got it right. It was at this point I noticed that even though I was typing the number part of the address in, when I was hitting go, it was inexplicably dropping the numbers and searching only for the street name. At this point, I was a little over ten minutes late, and I started trying to google the name of the church.
Now, remember when I told you that I should have paid attention when my phone started messing up in Walmart? Well, my internet basically started refusing to work. I had no 3G, and it wouldn’t pull up anything. I wanted to call one of my friends and ask them what I should do…. but they were in the wedding. Panickedly, I called my mom and asked her to google the church to make sure I was putting in the right address, even though I was typing in exactly what it said on the invitation I was mangling in my hand.

SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT HERE

My mom googled the church, and told me that the address was 1039, not 1029 and I cried out in triumph– I KNEW something was wrong!! Gleefully, I typed the new address in, and made the loop again. However, as I came up on the place it was telling me to turn, I realized with a sinking feeling that it was taking me to EXACTLY THE SAME SPOT. By this point I was fifteen minutes late, and I was freaking out.
I had no idea what to do, so I just started driving down the road, hoping the church was just further down or something.
I drove about two miles, with nary a sign of a church, before I decided to drive down the other way. I was coming back up on the road I had been turning on to go around to the other side of the interstate, and I knew it was pointless to drive back down that way again. The wedding was to have started at 5:30. By this point it was 5:47. Finally, I pulled into a gas station and started crying. Naturally, I was wearing lots of eye makeup. I usually wear none, and if I do, it’s usually only eyeliner. But I had even put on mascara for this very special occasion, and I knew I needed to get myself together if I didn’t want to show up as a raccoon.

BEYONCE never would have gotten lost and missed her friend’s wedding

I just kept trying my internet, and then FINALLY it started working. I went to the church’s website, and as I should’ve done from the very beginning, pulled up my GPS from the map they provided on their website. I tried to put it into my navigation, but apparently I had not been punished by the geography gods enough, because my GPS satellites chose that moment to stop working. My phone had no idea where I was, and so it could not navigate me to the church, even though it now knew where the church was.
I sat there and just kept reputting it in, over and over. Finally, I restarted my phone, and sat waiting. After a couple more minutes, my GPS found the satellites, and provided me with the route– I was 0.7 miles from my destination. If I had only gone past the street I had been turning on over and over again to go back up the other side of the interstate, I would’ve found the church. I had been within two or three miles of the church the entire 40ish minutes I had been driving in circles. The gas station I had been sitting at for fifteen minutes was literally two minutes away from the church. I could only stare at my phone in utter defeat.

Yep, that’s it. I quit.

I pulled up to the church at 6:10. There were still cars everywhere, but I had little hope. I decided to go in and see if I could find one of my friends. There was a reception that was in downtown Oklahoma City, about fifteen minutes away. But I had no idea if I should go to it yet or what anyone was doing. I walked in, and there were people standing all around. They all gave me strange looks as I hesitantly wandered around, looking for anyone I knew. I found the chapel, and saw my two friends sitting in the pews watching as D’Erin took wedding pictures. I stumbled up the aisle toward them, sat down, and told them the whole story. Naturally they told me one of my other friends had been there, and I could have callled her.
I mean, of course.
I waited until all pictures were done with the bridal party and they kicked everyone out so they could do pictures with just the bride and groom. I drove to the reception, which was at the Oklahoma Museum of Art– somewhere I had actually been. I arrived, and everything was absolutely lovely. I didn’t have the heart to tell D’Erin when I saw her that I had missed her wedding, but it’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. (PS D’Erin if you’re reading this… yeeeah, I missed your wedding. You do not know how sorry I am.)
2014, 1,908,3753,508,035,938,517,394. Sara, -58.

This seemed to be a confirmation of every fear I had that if I tried to declare that 2014 was going to be a good year, it was going to turn around and kick me to ground. But here’s the thing with all that thinking about what I want– it doesn’t go away. In 2013, bad things still happened to me, even when I tried to avoid them. And at least if I make resolutions in 2014, I can resolve to make sure that good things happen to me as well. I feel like, as I always do at the end of the year, I am amazed by how much more it seems like I learned, how much I have changed and my life has changed. I feel like I’ve finally matured, and gained some hard-earned wisdom. I know what I want now, and while I may not have a clue what else might be in store for me in 2014, there’s nothing wrong with going after what I do want to happen. And so, I have made a short list of resolutions I will be working towards this year.

Sara’s New Year’s Resolutions for 2014
1. Finish my novel.
2. Get a job.
3. Move out with my sister.
4. Get a tattoo.
5. Go on a date (maybe).
6. Not miss any other weddings I am invited to.

Some of these will be hard, some I’ll have no control over, and some will be entirely up to me. But it’s really exciting to picture myself at this time next year, looking back on these– because who knows what I might have accomplished?
And in the meantime, my house is looking pretty magical with all that gold glitter…. it makes it seem like the possibilities are endless.