Shake and Bake and I Helped

So, let's face it, February is never a very good month. It's short and malformed, and it feels like it was just kind of stuck into the calendar to justify more snow fall and rising heating costs. It's the month that gave us Janet Jacksons breast and the death of Mr. Rogers, the month that cheats us out of a holiday by lumping Washington and Lincolns birthday into the generic "Presidents Day". It's the month that gave us Toothache Day and took Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper.
It's rough and it happens every year. Chicago in particular has an extra dose of fun, as the weather has one last orgasmic explosion of white and wind.

But that's all behind us. It's March. A month named for the God of War, but more importantly, it's the beginning of Spring. It's a time of rebirth and reforming, a time for reflection and tons of other re-words. It's time to start over.

I wish I could say that the hair pulling, stress and chaos of the last month could be attributed to me making a symbolic stand. That is was the last throes of a violent birth, intended to bring the new year. That I was mad as hell and I wasn't going to take it anymore, that I was embracing change, that I was taking the future by the horns(the future is a bull...or perhaps an orchestra) and ripping it's throat out to mount on my trophy wall of vanquished metaphors.

But as it turns out, it was just a pretty crappy month.

The details aren't really that important. What is important is that shook up my life a little bit, quiting my old DePaul job, let War Heroes(the famous comedy group) die, and reordered my priorities. And, after all the shakin' and jumpin' about of the last month, the nervous vomiting of pancakes, and near meltdowns, I'm getting ready to start over. To be reborn and reformed(not religious way, I still get freaked out by large groups of people chanting) in Americorps*Vista.

Two hours from now, I'm set to be sworn back into the Americorps fold. I'm not really sure that it's the smartest thing, as Gabrielle and I were attempting to save money, but it feels more right than the majority of other options that are out there. It feels like it's an affirmative choice and that it'll force me out of the doldrums of data entry life. I'm the new Development Assistant and Volunteer Coordinator for the Youth Job Center of Evanston. I'm not overly sure what all this means, but I'm going to be doing grant research, donor contacting and a variety of other duties that are sure to be wonderful and stressful. I'm nervous about it. I'm not sure at all what to expect, but I'm ready to start and see where I end up.

I've been thinking about all of this concentration on service in my life. I think I was a little wary when thinking about it during my last Americorps term. I had a sneaking suspicion that it was a way to gain the posthumous approval of my mother. That there was some weird self obsessed, psychological insecurity that drove it. But over the last few days, I've started to change my opinion of it. It's something that I do honestly enjoy, and it's a way that I can connect to a mother that I never really had a chance to know as an adult. I know, I know. That's babbly, but it's some sort of progress. So, I'll update later this afternoon, and not with the emoting dramatic feeling of this post.