Destination: Destiny

In the early years of my adulthood, I began living by the mantra "My time will come."

I knew deep down that I was destined for a greater calling, mainly in an occupational field.

The first time I ever took root in the real world, a.k.a. got a job, was as at a fading grocery store in a not-so-fancy part of town as an insignificant cashier.

Worst job ever. But I'm a firm believer that the rough times are the lessons that make you wise and get you through life.

Three jobs later, I sat behind the wheel of my car, slogging to work, dreading the day when I just knew, just knew that I was meant to be, to do, something bigger. I grasped this concept for two years.

It was always on my mind each 16-hour day, each 6-day work week.

Then, by chance (the kind of occurance that give you a divine revelation and proves there is a God) my time came.

I just so happened to approach a customer at my job who told me about a job opening I had no chance of landing. I got an interview, then another inverview and then that long-awaited phone call.

"We think you're the right choice for this position." I did it. Full time. Twice the pay. Benefits. Paid vacation and holidays. Monday through Friday. 8-5.

Aside from meeting my soul mate, finding the career meant for me was the single-most important event in my life to date.  I got so lucky, but luck can't be the only factor that played into this. It was holding onto a belief and letting it capture my heart and mind so much that it guided me to where I am today.

I reached my destination.

Best Night of My Life

I feel like reminiscing. 

Date: October 27, 2010.

Location: Savannah, Georgia.

On our way back from our Fall vacation to the North Carolina mountains, I decided we would stay in Savannah. We stopped at the Georgia Visitor's Center and got a deal at a hotel in the downtown area, right across from the famed River Street. Once we arrived, checked in, got our luggage in order, parked and unpacked, my mom, fiance and I booked a ghost tour for later that evening. We asked the concierge where the best barbecue in town would be, and she told us about a literal hole-in-the-wall joint that no one knows about, but celebrities flock to. We decided to walk there and eat before our ghost tour. 

After crossing many streets, a gorgeous cathedral, and Paula Deen's buffet restaurant, we found our alleyway. "Hole-in-the-wall" is an understatement. Thinking back, it's almost as if we had to duck to fit inside the doorway, er, I mean hole in the bricks. We reached our destination: Angel's BBQ.

Inside Angel's BBQ. Me with my Mom on the left.

Our food was amazing. Delectable. How my new found haven of fine food isn't overrun with customers is a myth to me. I suppose the average Joe isn't as brave enough to eat from the side of a building down a small alleyway. No A/C, no waiters, no annoying vibrating disc to signal it's your turn... Just down-home service and food.

After my beloved feast, we headed on our ghost tour. It was a walking tour, guided by a hermit-like man with little white flakes on the top half of his shirt. After strolling past old houses, abandoned buildings, and a cemetery, we reached our main destination: the Sorrel-Weed House. It's claim to fame was being featured on a 2005 episode of Ghost Hunters. The introverted guide offered the rental of EMF (Electromagnetic Frequency) detectors once inside. EMF detectors are said to pick up the frequencies of energy that spirits emit.

My fiance rented one, and soon thereafter I wished I would have too. So, after seizing his EMF detector, our tour of the house kicked off. I got a scant amount of flashes from the detector, signaling the presence of spirits.

Using an EMF detector in the Sorrel-Weed House.

My fiance would blind me with the flash of his camera every time the detector went off. Turns out that blinding me 23 times was a waste, because there was nothing revealing in any of the photographs.

So after our adventure in the 175 year old home, we strolled back to our hotel with a steady ocean breeze cooling us off along the way. 

After parting ways with my mother, my fiance and I decided we wanted to explore Savannah a little bit more. The hallmark of the best night of my life began at that thought.

Out the door, down the sidewalk, across the crosswalk, down a steep cobblestone staircase, over a cobblestone road, and out to River Street. 

The street went either left or right, and the corner building on the right was to be our haven for the next couple of hours.

We entered Fiddler's Crab House and immediately the smell of fresh seafood was overwhelming. Both pretending we didn't smell it, Steve and I pushed forward and had a seat at the bar. A little, buff man by the name of Jared greeted us. I'm sure he was a midget. 

I decided on getting a draft beer, my first ever. Now, I'm sure the discovery of how incredible draft beer is added to the splendor of the night. Canned and bottled do no justice to the authentic flavor of beer. 

Besides alcohol, it was the atmosphere. Have you ever been in surroundings the just seemed right? It felt like the world was right - like no harm could be inflicted anywhere, on anyone. 

Behind the bar, straight in front of our eyes was a high-definition tv. Game 1 of the World Series was just starting, making the night all the more enjoyable. After debating who to go for, we unanimously decided the San Fransisco Giants, since their opponent, the Texas Rangers, eliminated our beloved Tampa Bay Rays from the playoffs. Besides, who can remember an era when the Giants were good, let alone World Series caliber?!

An inning in, hunger settled into our bellies. We decided to order a half-pound of fresh steamed shrimp from the waters surrounding Savannah.

We had it all. Great drinks, championship sports on television, local fare, the sentimental atmosphere, and most importantly, each others company.

As our night at the Fiddler's Crab House came to an end, we purchased namesake t-shirts to remember this amazing night by. We said goodbye to Jared, stumbled out the wooden doorway, onto the cobblestone street, up the steep flight of cobblestone stairs, over the crosswalk, down the sidewalk, and into the hotel. 

Best night of my life.

Re-visiting Fiddler's for a photo op the next morning.

Fireworks and A Burning Cat

You've heard the saying "Never pet a burning dog."

Last night's dream was quite the opposite, both literally and metaphorically speaking.

The dream started with me going outside via the back door of our house. In real life there is an electrical outlet just outside the door, and the washer/dryer are just inside the door. 

In the dream I went outside to light off a firework or two, just to rattle the neighbors, or for my own pleasure. After lighting it off I came back in to find a small but fierce fire was consuming the insides of the dryer, which now had a big see-through vent near the bottom of it, unlike in real life. I panicked and promptly fetched some water in a bucket. I hurled the water onto the fire, but instead of burning out, it only made the flames more angry and they quickly spread out. Out of nowhere, my deceased grandmother was with me and we simultaneously noticed the same, horrifying thing: My cat trapped behind the see-through grate on the dryer. I struggled to try to get the vent off to free her, but it would not budge. She cried and I tried talking to her to calm her down. My grandma said we needed to call the Fire Department. I did just that, but we waited and waited and waited... No Fire Department. 

Awake.

A Hated Dream

I cannot stand the kind of dream I had last night. I've had countless dreams about being in Marine Corps boot camp. Usually I dream of standing out, being a leader, and doing everything right for the Drill Instructors. 

Not so in my latest dream.

I was taken the first written test required in boot camp. All the recruits were sitting at desks in a big circle. When the testing began, I knew nothing. I was so upset because I thought I'd either be recycled to a new platoon, or dropped from training all together.

That's it, short and un-sweet.

I loathe dreaming about my unfinished goals and lost hopes. But hey, I guess it's just another dashed dream.

Football, Wine & Movies

I am, and always will be, a die hard Tampa Bay Buccaneers fan. But in 2008 I met the love of my life, my fiance, a die hard New York Jets fan. I cannot stress right now how pleased I am with the Jets organization. Minutes ago, they planted defeat on my arch-enemy/number one nemesis/disgusting team: the New England Patriots. The Bill Beli-cheat and Tom Gaydy "dynasty" just went down!

What?

No rule invented to allow the Patsies a victory and eventual run at the Lombardi Trophy? 

*GASP!*

Time for a new, refreshing spotlight to be turned on. One without conspiracy and cheating.

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Whilst watching the aforementioned defeat, I sipped on a red wine I recently tried at a wine tasting: Cupcake Vineyards Malbec. I don't understand how wines are rated and reviewed using such words as "plums," "chocolate," "honeydew," or  "lemongrass." All I think about when I drink wine is, "Mmm, old grapes," or "I wonder how Jesus described this back in the day..." 

I must say though, my taste in wine is maturing. I like the driest whites, i.e. Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc. I'm still feeling out the reds. It's going to take some time for my taste buds to adjust to the punch that red wines pack.

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Whilst watching the aforementioned defeat and sipping on red wine, a new movie trailer came on at a commercial break. They had me at, "From Executive Producer James Cameron..." I will admit that I have not seen Avatar, and have no interest to, but he stole my movie-loving heart with The Abyss and Titanic. This film is called Sanctum and goes back to what James Cameron knows best- water. In short, it's a film about some people who venture into the world's biggest cave and get stuck underground when a Tropical Storm inhibits them from getting out. To escape, they have to swim through the caves labyrinths to some ocean-fed exit. Or something like that. 

No matter, I'm sure I'll love it.

A Recurring Dream

I've had this dream at least twice over the past week.

It starts with me, my mom, and my fiance driving on a hilly road. Our destination: Either Fontana Lake (which is in western North Carolina,) or Indianapolis. In the dream they are only minutes apart. You can see Indy's big skyline when driving over a hill. I remember picking Fontana Lake in the last dream, so in this one I chose Indianapolis. Once there, the setting changes from modern day to World War II. It's a video game version, but I can still get hurt from bullets or whatever else comes my way. 

After shooting many foe, I encountered my best friend's husband, Mike. I was supposed to kill him but all of the sudden I lost all my guns. All he had was knives, and so did I. We threw knives at each other for a long time and I remember getting stabbed a few times, but not dying. I was terrible at knife throwing. 

Awake.

Grumblings #1

Job #1: Nice Guys Finish Last

Reality is a cruel mistress. You think you are fine with her, you're both on the same page, and then *WHAM* she slaps your face to make sure you still have a little bit of sense left in you. The cold hard facts are that I am a nice person. I go out of my way to make sure others are comfortable. But what happens when the tables are turned on you?

A dear old lady, whom I have loved since the day she became my co-worker, thinks I'm a cold-blooded, gossip-ridden young fool. The irony of it all is that the culprit in the matter is someone she has befriended.

My solution, whether right or wrong, is silence. I have not betrayed the real culprit. Reality is lonely and unfair, but I refuse to return the "favor" it has given me by slapping others in the face.

Job #2: A Man Believes Women Are Useless

Except for reproduction, I have a co-worker who believes women should be void of existence. At least, that is my interpretation. The very same evening he spewed this non-sense he calls his "beliefs", I held the door open for him. I was trying to prove a point. He walked out of the opened door as my trap was about to be set: "Thank you," he says. "Are you sure I handled that well enough?" I retort. He stares at me like a blank piece of paper. Before he could come up with any words, I fire back at him, "Apparently, I'm useful enough to hold a door open for a man..."

Haven't heard any rubbish since that night.