Returning the Cinnamon

Yesterday, I went to lunch with my cousin/friend Shann. She arrived at the house and waited for me in the car. Bounding out the front door, I greeted her and stepped to her open window.

Morning Sun Through Villa Rica Pines

We exchanged compliments, each finding something worth a shout-out, the norm between us two. Then she followed hers up with an "I'm so glad you're back here, and that you're my friend!"

To which I heartily agreed, saying, "And I return the cinnamon."

Giggling, I corrected myself. "Sentiment, I mean. I return the sentiment."

Driving to Phat Phil's (me in my car, she following), I felt a surge of love and connection. It was one of those perfect spring days in Northwest Georgia, sunny and warm, but not too warm. A perfect, low-humidity type day.

Villa Rica Main Street at Sunset

We drove down North Avenue, past the site of the old hospital (now a parking lot for the new), past Junior Food Store and through the 'projects' that have been there for as long as I remember. A family friend lived there growing up and, with pride I noted that it is still as well-kept as it was back then.

The Old VR Movie Theater, Now Cinema Tavern

On to Old Town Road through Fullerville, past my friend Shelia's mama's house and the baseball park. I spent countless hours in both places as a youth: hanging out, sleeping over, inventing things in the kitchen. In my mind's eye I see little usses jumping the ditch playing follow-the-leader. My mouth waters remembering green plums plucked straight from the tree.

By the time I made the outskirts of Villa Rica, I was bursting with it. It welled up inside and I watched myself with awe and wonder as all those feelings tumbled out in a shouted, "I LOVE YOU, VILLA RICA!!!!"

What has changed? Everything. And yet nothing.

Bugsy, At Home in Villa Rica

Only me. Well, not so much me as my mind. My mind has changed. I now see a place of beauty, love and community. I see a place where I belong, a place I want to belong. That is what has changed.

So. Villa Rica. Thank you for giving me a beautiful life, both then and now. I am home.

And this time, I can return the cinnamon.

~ Olivia J. Herrell

There Inside My Mind

For my sister, who's in New York City on vacation and saw Phantom on Broadway last night.

Cherry, this is for you!



~ Olivia J. Herrell

Better Left to Chance

Tonight I mourn.

In the relationship game of life, I am batting a thousand. Yes. Yes I am.

In the World of Olivia there seem to be two constants. One is change. The other is me on the tail end of a relationship gone awry. You would think a smart girl like moi would figure it out. Get it right.

So far, I have not.

Dammit.

I know what love feels like. I know my heart. I know me.

I know in hindsight that I had no business even thinking about embarking on a relationship with a man, much less doing it. I was looking for fun, not serious. Did I not say that in my profile? Yes. Yes I did. And I meant it.

So how did I let myself get sidetracked? Why did I toss my wish to have fun, in favor of the 'fall in love, get married and have kids' scenario? Did I tell you that I am fifty-four, soon fifty five?

The sign was there, even in the beginning. The Stop, This Is All Wrong sign. Did I notice? Yes. Did I pay attention? No. I let myself be swept along by the possibilities, by the fleeting magic of a dream awakened. It's quite intoxicating, that dream. But, as is the way with dreams, consciousness returns upon awakening.

And life is life. And what is, is.

My heart hurts and my eyes leak tears.Yet my words seem void of emotion. How can that be?

Tonight I mourn.

For the man. For the dream.

For the dance.


The dance - garth brooks by rawestern

Thank you, JP. For the dance.

~ That Rebel, Olivia J. Herrell

Welcome to Student Loan Hell

This blog was birthed in anger: anger at being duped by someone supposedly out to help me. It evolved in to something much more: a place where I could write and share my words, thoughts and feelings with others. My experience, strength and hope, we say in AA. It became a vehicle and evidence of my growth as a writer, as a scribe.

Today, I am angry again. Once more, That Rebel becomes a platform. Today, the lizard brain dragon is tamed, nay friended. Today, That Rebel comes out.

Attribution

I am an American. I am a doctor. I owe $263,000 in student loan debt that started out as $90,000 in 1998 when I graduated from chiropractic college. At that time the interest rate was 8 1/4%. My $90,000 has been locked in at that usurious rate for the last 14 years.

Never mind the prevailing rate dropped as low as 1 1/4% during that time. I was locked in with no way out, forbidden to refinance at a lower rate. Or so the agencies told me.

Now, today, of the balance "owed" two-thirds of it is usurious interest, funny money on some banking institution's books.

There is no provision for bankrupting/forgiving student loan debt, not since before I incurred mine, anyway. I can understand taxes being unforgivable. But bank loans? Usurious interest? Why are all other loans forgivable and not these? Is that even constitutional?

It took six years in business before I made enough as a doctor to begin paying on my student loan. By then, the $90,000 had soared to $160,000 and my payments were $1200 a month.

The following year, the recession struck my town in California. My income was slashed in half, my expenses were not. I could no longer pay. My step-father died. My mother died.

The economy tanked. I lost everything and came home to Georgia to start over. To try again. That was at the end of 2009. It's now 2012 and I am almost self-supporting, almost able to pay my bills without assistance from friends or relatives. My adjusted gross income for 2011 was $1200. Yes, that is twelve hundred measly dollars for a whole year of work. But I continue in my quest to help people get better, get well.

To think of me, and people like me as stupid and irresponsible, is the same as saying it is the fault of the sixteen year-old when a twentysomething date-rapes her at a party.

I did not consent at age sixteen, and I do not consent at age fifty-five.

Am I stupid for believing in people, and in myself? For trusting? Was I stupid for believing I could make a difference in the world and pay back a ridiculously high student loan that I received no counseling for before the fact?

Maybe. But I still believe. I still trust.

Am I irresponsible? No. I have worked within the unjust, lose/lose student loan system, done everything allowable and within my power to keep my head above water, to survive. I am not in default. But I am unable to pay. Not now. Maybe, with this dreadful economy, not never.

Until then, I have a dream. I have a dream that someone will rise up and take on the system: as undemocratic, unfair, usurious, and even unconstitutional. Then the rest of us, the ones who have hovered on the fringes for too long, will regain our sense of compassion, our understanding, our truth.

We will befriend and train our dragons one by one. And we will add our voices to the fray.

Because this one matters.

It matters to me.

~ the Voice of That Rebel, Olivia J. Herrell