While you might think anything between last July and now is a pretty major change in the status quo, it’s really just been the past week when major changes started happening. I’m going back to Memphis (with Bryan in tow, of course) to start a job writing and editing for Ducks Unlimited. I’ve been gone from there since the first week of January and, in the time since, I’ve had one six-month fellowship with Scripps’ UX department and started one job with the University of Tennessee.

But in all that, I’ve been dissatisfied with my career path. Sure, there were good parts about everything I did along the way. I enjoyed being able to combine numerous different skills in my previous job at DU. I enjoyed tinkering in Photoshop at Scripps. And I enjoyed getting to experience a bit more of the “proper” way of doing front-end development at UT.

The most recent of those experiences, though, reminded me how much I miss the writing and editing aspects of my previous jobs and of my education. As my dad put it, I’ve always been a writer. (Well, ever since my 7th-grade art teacher told me I wasn’t good enough to copy a certain painting for an assignment, but someone else in class was allowed to. That’s when I realized I’d never be an artist. So I decided to be a writer instead.) I started out a poet and short-story writer in middle school, then moved on to blogging in high school and college. And even though a lot of that writing was about me and my life, people still seemed to enjoy it and identify that as my talent, along with my eagle-eyed wielding of a red pen.

So I’ve decided to leave the world of HTML and CSS mostly behind me (though I think they will be valuable allies when it comes to things like being able to perfect press releases before sending them to the masses or posting things online) and focus on those elements of my personality and skill set that I’ve been neglecting. Finding a position at DU that allows me to do this is truly fortuitous—what better way to get your foot in the door of a new career than with a company that already knows and respects your work? And they do. It’s been said and shown time and time again in a number of different ways. And while it means pulling up shallow roots in Knoxville and moving AGAIN, I can’t bear the thought of missing out on the challenge or continue to slog through work I no longer enjoy or think I’m particularly good at in the grand scheme of things (front-end development).

Change is hard. And it’s going to be hard for a while, especially if new and unexpected things crop up along the way. There are plans to buy our first house in Memphis. We’ll be getting married this fall. His family’s trip to New Jersey happens in June. There’s definitely a lot on the agenda for the next year, so I have a feeling I’m going to need every ounce of energy I can sum up and then some. I just hope it doesn’t break us, our relationship or our spirits. As easygoing a guy as Bryan is, things like moving stress him out, and I don’t want my stress to compound his and create a force outside of our control.

But I’m staying positive. There’s a reason for all this, and, if nothing else, I know I will learn a great many things and enjoy being close to the friends and family we left behind in 2010.

Let’s see, what’s new… I’m currently in one of those phases where I feel as though everything needs to change. Or at least my job, my activities and my health. One of those times when my brain is constantly being pulled in at least a dozen different directions, leaving me fairly motionless in the middle of it all, never accomplishing anything in the end. Rather than choose a path, I’m overwhelmed with conflict and anxiety. What should I be doing? What’s most important? Do I need to do A in order to accomplish B? And it goes on and on while I watch everyone around me moving and changing and doing.

Will I ever find a job that leaves me feeling fulfilled at the end of the day? Will I ever find an exercise regimen I can stick to? Will I ever break the anxiety cycle and feel energized when I start my day, ready to conquer the world? These are all good questions, ones I’ve been trying to answer for the past several years. I’m hoping to actually find the answers one day. I just don’t know how soon that will be.

For now, I make a tentative promise to you that, now that we’ve set up the desktop computer in the less-secluded, more-spacious dining room, I will try to post here again. Don’t laugh if it ends up being attempts at short stories or random fiction—I got tired of writing self-involved woe-is-me stories a long time ago, and while I know that will still come out once in a while (as it did above) I’d like to think I have more potential than that, more to give.

So, here goes…

(This sounds like the start to some sort of parable, doesn’t it? It’s not. Well, not really anyway.)

All three men had their lines in the water, and, as I watched from the bank, the line closest to the boat’s motor sprang to life. The line’s owner tugged and tweaked it, then hoisted the dripping fish from the water. It wasn’t huge, but big enough that the middle man opened the boat’s storage container before the hook was even out of the fish’s mouth. The catcher removed the hook and tossed the fish into the bin, turning back to the motor before the middle man had even dropped the lid.

Without pause, the man baited his hook again and slung it back into the water. I stared for a moment and wondered what happened to the fanfare. Isn’t a person supposed to celebrate a success like catching a fish on a relatively quiet fishing day? None of the other lines were wiggling, so it seemed like it might be worth a little revelry. But none of the men reacted, and the motion of it all was so fluid, it was as if it never happened – I wouldn’t have realized it had if I’d blinked a little longer than usual.

If I ever caught a fish or shot a duck, I would celebrate. (Of course, I wouldn’t do either of those things, because it’s not who I am, but we’re speaking hypothetically here.) I would take a few moments, examine my quarry and be so excited about my accomplishment. Maybe after years of catching fish, the sparkle of another tug on the line has faded. But I imagine, even those who live off the land, who catch a hundred fish a week to feed their families, still pause to reflect each time, if for no other reason than to show respect for the life sacrificed to save another. I think it’s that link to the earth that these men, and many others, have lost sight of.

I respect people’s interests, and their desire to pursue game of all shapes and sizes, but I can’t respect people who don’t respect the animals they hunt, kill and consume. Maybe you don’t believe a fish has feelings, friends or family, but he’s part of the circle of life, of the earth you live in, of a bigger picture than just your boat, your line, your day at the lake. Respect that and the earth will respect you.

I went to Memphis’ Minglewood Hall to see The Avett Brothers in concert Thursday night. It was a band I’d heard and liked in passing, that graces my Pandora stations on a regular basis. But I can sing along to only one song.

Several local Twitter folks mentioned they’d be attending the show, and though I had no one to walk in the door with, the cheap tickets and desire to see a great band live won me over.

I pow-wowed over coffee with a coworker beforehand at Otherlands, getting a pep talk that encouraged me to “strut” when I arrived at Minglewood, seek out the Twitter friends, show them who I really was and just how cool. I won’t say I strutted, but I was tracked down by two of the nicest Twitter kids out there, who just happen to be engaged to one another.

The show was the best I’ve ever attended, by far. The opening act, Samantha Crain and the Midnight Shivers, was more than enough to get me primed for the Avetts, replete with hot harmonica playing and energetic guitar strumming. I ended up purchasing one of their albums, since the Avetts are more easily found on the Internet.

But the main event was just… beyond words, really. I’ve liked the few Avett songs I’ve heard over the past year, but their live performance is leaps and bounds beyond that. They are everywhere at once, switching up instruments and singing so clear, so beautifully, I was blown away. They did sing St. Joseph’s, which is the one I can sing, so I was happy for that bit of familiarity.

They also sang a new one called January Wedding, which almost had me in tears. It was so sweet, so poignant, so simple about falling in love, having it feel just right without trying, knowing it will all work out. I’ve never felt that way myself. Every relationship has felt like a struggle. And sometimes it was because the spark wasn’t there, because we were trying to force something that just wasn’t going to happen. But often it was because I wasn’t OK myself, because I was forcing MYSELF to be something I wasn’t, to be perfect and beautiful and fun, when I just couldn’t be without wearing myself out from the stress of it all.

The Avett concert worked to lift my spirits quite a bit. To be around new people, to hear great music, to be inspired by the whole event – I’m so glad I went. It’s something I need to keep doing, to stretch my boundaries and live my life. I look forward to the next show.

But, even with a few mornings pestering Bryan in bed for more food or water (his usual repertoire) his condition worsened more quickly than the doctor estimated. On Wednesday night, he climbed into the bathtub after Erica had taken a shower, never a good sign with sick animals. We put his water bowl in with him, and he drank for several minutes straight. Later that night, he was in the corner under Nick’s bed. It was obvious he was not gaining weight and it was time to put his quality of life first.

So, Bryan made the incredibly hard decision to let him go. He and his mom took Pete to the vet today. And that was that. Even now, it makes me tear up to think about it. I know I have a soft heart anyway, especially when it comes to animals, but I’d already grown to love that little orange fuzzball. Even with matted fur on his little legs, stinky breath and goobers on his face, I would’ve let him sit on my lap for hours if he would’ve tolerated me that long. But, although it hurts that he’s gone, and my heart goes out to Bryan, Nancy and the rest of Pete’s extended family, it hurt more to see him in pain.

Erica came up with a story once that Pete was going to Space Camp. She told Bryan he could come, too, if he hid in Pete’s backpack and promised not to eat his Snack Packs. When I was at the market last night gathering supplies to cook dinner at Bryan’s, I saw a package of Jell-O pudding cups in the clearance section. I thought Pete wouldn’t mind the brand discrepancy, so I bought them. I brought him a cup last night, for his ultimate trip to Space Camp this afternoon.

We’ll miss you, buddy. We won’t be the same without you. We’re already changed because of you. And even though I barely got to know you, I love you dearly, Peters. Have a great time at Space Camp. :*)