I mean, there's only so much you can do, right? then you have to kinda throw your hands in the air and step back. It's like surrendering to the will of the universe, or god, or whathaveyou. I guess I am there. I am so happy, and so thankful to be here. I am working intently on focusing only on the good things, the good reasons in my life, which probably seems somehow irresponsible or stupid. but I am working - I am even looking for more work on the weekends. I am praying (don't tell anyone). I am sorting out in my head and on paper how in the hell I will get out of this mire of quicksand I got myself into. I am not being passive, but at the same time, I have hit the end of my human rope. So, throw it out there to the cosmos and wait for the fallout. And hope and pray it isn't life threatening to anyone. I came to terms with the fact that if my storage unit payment gets returned and worst case scenario I get locked out and somehow ultimately and permanently lose all of our earthly possessions - they really are just THINGS, and somehow, we would recover. Granted we would never find another Dr Suess love seat, but still, it's just THINGS. Somehow we won't be homeless. Even if, worst case scenario, all the girls have to share my room here at Ricker's (god forbid he read this), for a month or so til I can scrape together first and last and actually get approved for a rental, we would all live. We've done it before. so i won't get down. not the rain, or the red, or the tummy aches from hell will convince me that I made the wrong choice. It WILL work out. Somehow, sometime.
In the meantime, I can't wait to see my kids again. I wish I had the money for a house now and could whisk them down here. sigh. so many things I want to show them, and do with them. I spent all day reading about the ancient history and geology of the area here. Gee whilikers! how awesome is this place? Totally awesome. Can't wait to go spelunking with the girls, and check out the high desert museum, and kids eat free on sundays at cascade lakes brewing... all good things.
For now, I need to go make a budget for the money that seems so imaginary and far away. A budget that will nudge me gently when dutch brothers calls to me from across the street. A budget that will help me remember why rice and beans are one of my favorite meals. I can make this happen. I can. I can.
27.5.10
25.5.10
on begging
I have never been a borrower. I think I would rather be a beggar or a stealer if I had to choose, but even of those, I would probably resort to stealing if I could somehow circumvent my conscience. But since I can't, I am forced to beg. It seems absurd that I should feel the churning emotions that I feel when I am begging money from family members, and especially when I am pleading with the father of my children, ever so nicely, to pay back some of the thousands of dollars he is behind in his child support. Of all of my bleak moments, and there have been many, and they have been very bleak, this may in fact be my bleakest. My head hurts from frantically trying to squeeze every cent of possibility out of any source to reconcile the ever widening abyss of debt that is swallowing me alive. I have not paid my new roommate rent yet. I am not confident the payment for my storage unit didn't get returned from the bank. I haven't paid the insurance on the car that has a payment due in two days, and my bank account is $50 overdrawn. I don't have money for groceries, definitely not for beer, although I know that many of my dear fans are counting the beers I have had in the last months and adding them up to an insurance bill. Oh how I wish I could regurgitate. But then I remember that Joe (sarah) paid for 90% of the beer I drank before the move. What an angel and a friend she was. Is. I don't remember ever feeling so completely desperate, but, at the same time, a sense that somehow it will work out. I have no idea how. I really am, this time, on the brink of some major repercussions. repossession, homelessness, starvation. I mean already the alcohol withdrawals I am having are devastating. (KIDDING!!!) But see, I can still afford a sense of humor. I will sell my jeans. I can do that. I can always buy more jeans when I am rich. Next stop, eBay. Oh shit, they won't let me list cause my last seller fee got returned unpaid. crap. Plan F. More begging. A good face-to-face sit down with Ricker. "Ricker, I know I am living in your house, but I don't have any money." Ricker: "Just a little?" Me: "No, none." Ricker: "Would you like a beer?" me: "yes." Apparently I am not too broke to fantasize either.
tonight I got home from work and saved a rabbit. It was a grey lop eared rabbit sitting next to the tire of a big lifted up ford out on the street. I packed it around like a baby until Ricker pointed out the rabbit's appropriate abode, and I took it home, thinking to myself that at least I wasn't too poor to save a life. Truck really wanted to eat the rabbit. Or at least sniff it.
I really am not entirely certain I will be able to claw my way out of this one, folks. My brother is kindly loaning me enough to un-bounce my bank account. My parents cautiously and wisely capped off their $1600 loan to me with the last two hundred and a reasonable demand for a repayment plan. The first $1400 is still from my move to Northport. Another good reason to never, ever move again.
My head hurts from problem solving. Saving bunnies and resolving national issues. I had to improvise a system for the other arch techs at work today for researching our project area. I did it. I am good at the things I do. My boss wasn't even there to notice how good I am. But I got a job started that the other techs were staring at incredulously. Fake it 'til you make it. That's how I roll. Apparently it doesn't pay well.
What I'd give for a beer. "ricker?..."
tonight I got home from work and saved a rabbit. It was a grey lop eared rabbit sitting next to the tire of a big lifted up ford out on the street. I packed it around like a baby until Ricker pointed out the rabbit's appropriate abode, and I took it home, thinking to myself that at least I wasn't too poor to save a life. Truck really wanted to eat the rabbit. Or at least sniff it.
I really am not entirely certain I will be able to claw my way out of this one, folks. My brother is kindly loaning me enough to un-bounce my bank account. My parents cautiously and wisely capped off their $1600 loan to me with the last two hundred and a reasonable demand for a repayment plan. The first $1400 is still from my move to Northport. Another good reason to never, ever move again.
My head hurts from problem solving. Saving bunnies and resolving national issues. I had to improvise a system for the other arch techs at work today for researching our project area. I did it. I am good at the things I do. My boss wasn't even there to notice how good I am. But I got a job started that the other techs were staring at incredulously. Fake it 'til you make it. That's how I roll. Apparently it doesn't pay well.
What I'd give for a beer. "ricker?..."
23.5.10
Lost
I haven't really been a big follower of Lost. I have watched a few episodes, but the finale tonight gave me a sense of affirmation that I have been collecting all too easily from my new life. It seems like everywhere I turn I find another confirmation that I am in the right place, drinking the right coffee, avoiding the right bills... as if that was possible. It's this concept of the afterlife. Life after death. Heaven, if you will, and the subjective possibilities of what awaits us when we cross over. The concept of heaven being an collective existence with the people who have been the most important and formative in our life, whichever life or reality we have to recollect, is reminiscent of C.S. Lewis afterlife in The Great Divorce, where the guides through the harsh reality of death were often the most humbling of leaders, people from your life who were somehow beneath you, or presented a reminder of your frailties and flaws. In this season finale, Jack finds himself faced with the reality that all of the time travel and simultaneous realities and memories from dual lives on the island and off, are overshadowed by the timelessness of death. He is surrounded, for whatever the enduring moment of forever feels like, with the people that had the most profound effect on his life. I wonder who my people would be. Looking back, on the chronology of mishaps and blunders and adventures that make up my life, who would be there with me in the timeless forever after? Some are obvious. Family members who have so much influenced me that to take out their effect would cause a tragic domino effect of implosion, and nothing would remain standing in my life. Friends, who, whether in my life for brief moments or long years, shaped who I am, drew the caricature that is my animated life on earth. Some enemies perhaps, the ones who intentionally or not, threw obstacles in my path that rerouted me in an unexpected and sometimes painful direction. And of course, dogs. All of my dogs had better be waiting for me in the hereafter, or I will have words with the powers-that-be.
For the last few days I have struggled with admitting to myself that I am actually praying, but I am. Praying in earnest to god. A god, The god. The one that's got the whole world in his hands. Breathing prayers of thanks and gratitude. Whispering prayers pleading for help, for survival, for open doors and clear paths. Of all of the times in my life this is one in which I am sure I am balanced precariously on the brink of do or die, for me and my girls. It's sink or swim, and although I am fervently ready to swim miles and miles in seas of sharks and piranhas to make this life work, I am haunted by the feeling that my hands are tied and I am utterly at the mercy of this god that hold the sharks and piranhas and miles and miles of seas in his hands. He holds the stamina I need to swim, the confidence I need to float. and he doesn't hold it over my head like a life rope, or dangle it in front of me like a carrot. It is simply here for me to reach out and grab it, as it always is and has been, but I still pray for the eyes to see it and the persistence to stay humble in my fight.
Tomorrow is day one of the new life. Bring it on. (But secretly, I could really use a good hug and somebody to make my lunch for me.)
For the last few days I have struggled with admitting to myself that I am actually praying, but I am. Praying in earnest to god. A god, The god. The one that's got the whole world in his hands. Breathing prayers of thanks and gratitude. Whispering prayers pleading for help, for survival, for open doors and clear paths. Of all of the times in my life this is one in which I am sure I am balanced precariously on the brink of do or die, for me and my girls. It's sink or swim, and although I am fervently ready to swim miles and miles in seas of sharks and piranhas to make this life work, I am haunted by the feeling that my hands are tied and I am utterly at the mercy of this god that hold the sharks and piranhas and miles and miles of seas in his hands. He holds the stamina I need to swim, the confidence I need to float. and he doesn't hold it over my head like a life rope, or dangle it in front of me like a carrot. It is simply here for me to reach out and grab it, as it always is and has been, but I still pray for the eyes to see it and the persistence to stay humble in my fight.
Tomorrow is day one of the new life. Bring it on. (But secretly, I could really use a good hug and somebody to make my lunch for me.)
21.5.10
My Life
MacKenzie always gets mad at me for telling her she smells like a kid. The other day I texted her and told her that I missed kid smell, and I could feel her sticking her tongue out at me and wrinkling her nose up like she always does. When she is old in a wheelchair and her tongue is perpetually sticking out of her mouth because her muscles have memorized that expression, I will be looking down from heaven and laughing at her. Of course my heaven will be very different from the textbook version. I have been thinking lately that heaven should be personality appropriate, much like our lives are assigned to us and have very different contexts and experiences, why on earth (or not) would heaven be universal for everyone. It's kind of like assuming that god is only expressed in one likeness, one religion, one style of people. How silly. My heaven will consist of big beds with lots of pillows, dogs with wrinkly faces and little girls fighting over tutus and plastic kazoos. I fully expected to be missing my kids in a week or so, but four days? This is ridiculous. I am turning into a, a, well, a mother. WTH?
I do miss my kids. I miss quirky Northport. I don't miss smelly Bob and dirty Bob and Larry and Daniel who should have been related but weren't. I don't miss Paula Fowler and her intimidated tentativeness that made her really creepy, as well as the smell of booze saturated flesh that she and a broad spectrum of other regulars wafted around town. I miss Jennifer and Dan and Karen and Troy and Margaret, even Zach and his perpetual fake storming around town in a huff. I miss Sarah, predictable Sarah, and Steve and Andrea and the beers that I knew I shouldn't drink and the chili I knew I shouldn't eat but couldn't even begin to resist. I miss Justin. And I really miss Calvin.
I am nervous about starting work. Like real official work, where once again I am the small fish in the big pond and I have all of the nights this week to have bad dreams about how I screw it up. I can't afford to screw it up. So I have to be successful. And when I look back on my most successful moments, they were the times that I pushed through even the hardest or most awkward situations with blustery confidence, convincing everyone around me I knew what I was doing when really I was terrified of letting my clumsy nerd show. I know it will go well. I know it will be great. If I can figure out what the hell to wear the first day. Yes, right now, that is my hugest stress. Not the pending overdrawn bank account or the bad credit that will prevent me from finding a place to rent. Not the fact that I have no food to eat and no money to buy food, or to pay the rent that I owe my roommate. No, I am stressed out about which jeans I have that are work/field appropriate, and what kind of impression I need to make out of the gate. Hey, there's a lot riding on this. It's a fashion emergency. I will lose many hours of sleep over the next few nights trying to figure this out.
Last night I saw a band called Diego's Umbrella. They refer to themselves as "Mexi-Cali gypsy pirate reggae" music. If you ever have a chance to see them, you must. There really is no good way to encapsulate the experience, except to say I am fairly certain I will see them in their red caped costumes in my own personal heaven. Probably opening up for the Avett Brothers. The night before that I saw Sally Ford and the Sound Outside. Also a band I strongly require anyone who has the chance to go see. (yes, require.) Even though I haven't had money for beer, and I have maybe mooched a pint or two off of the roommate whom is still owed rent, it has been a glorious conformation that I have come to the right place. It's funny that I stood in front of the stage at the bar last night, wishing it was an all ages show and I could have my kids there dancing with me. I am excited for them to grow up in a town like this. Excited for them to be 21 and able to experience these things with me. There are a lot of all ages shows here from what I gather. We will find them. Especially the free ones. Tomorrow Ricker and I get to tour the Deschutes Brewery. This has been a lifelong (well, adult-lifelong) desire of mine. And I am hoping they give out samples, again, since I lack beer funds. Either way I will get to smell the hops and maybe taste the malted barley, and hear the whole process one more time. It never really gets old, especially coming from some dreamy hunk of a brewmeister, which I am sure Bend will not fail to produce. Every fellow here seems better looking than the last. It's as though I moved to stage one of my personal heaven. Live music, good looking guys and beer. The only thing missing is the smell of kids.
I do miss my kids. I miss quirky Northport. I don't miss smelly Bob and dirty Bob and Larry and Daniel who should have been related but weren't. I don't miss Paula Fowler and her intimidated tentativeness that made her really creepy, as well as the smell of booze saturated flesh that she and a broad spectrum of other regulars wafted around town. I miss Jennifer and Dan and Karen and Troy and Margaret, even Zach and his perpetual fake storming around town in a huff. I miss Sarah, predictable Sarah, and Steve and Andrea and the beers that I knew I shouldn't drink and the chili I knew I shouldn't eat but couldn't even begin to resist. I miss Justin. And I really miss Calvin.
I am nervous about starting work. Like real official work, where once again I am the small fish in the big pond and I have all of the nights this week to have bad dreams about how I screw it up. I can't afford to screw it up. So I have to be successful. And when I look back on my most successful moments, they were the times that I pushed through even the hardest or most awkward situations with blustery confidence, convincing everyone around me I knew what I was doing when really I was terrified of letting my clumsy nerd show. I know it will go well. I know it will be great. If I can figure out what the hell to wear the first day. Yes, right now, that is my hugest stress. Not the pending overdrawn bank account or the bad credit that will prevent me from finding a place to rent. Not the fact that I have no food to eat and no money to buy food, or to pay the rent that I owe my roommate. No, I am stressed out about which jeans I have that are work/field appropriate, and what kind of impression I need to make out of the gate. Hey, there's a lot riding on this. It's a fashion emergency. I will lose many hours of sleep over the next few nights trying to figure this out.
Last night I saw a band called Diego's Umbrella. They refer to themselves as "Mexi-Cali gypsy pirate reggae" music. If you ever have a chance to see them, you must. There really is no good way to encapsulate the experience, except to say I am fairly certain I will see them in their red caped costumes in my own personal heaven. Probably opening up for the Avett Brothers. The night before that I saw Sally Ford and the Sound Outside. Also a band I strongly require anyone who has the chance to go see. (yes, require.) Even though I haven't had money for beer, and I have maybe mooched a pint or two off of the roommate whom is still owed rent, it has been a glorious conformation that I have come to the right place. It's funny that I stood in front of the stage at the bar last night, wishing it was an all ages show and I could have my kids there dancing with me. I am excited for them to grow up in a town like this. Excited for them to be 21 and able to experience these things with me. There are a lot of all ages shows here from what I gather. We will find them. Especially the free ones. Tomorrow Ricker and I get to tour the Deschutes Brewery. This has been a lifelong (well, adult-lifelong) desire of mine. And I am hoping they give out samples, again, since I lack beer funds. Either way I will get to smell the hops and maybe taste the malted barley, and hear the whole process one more time. It never really gets old, especially coming from some dreamy hunk of a brewmeister, which I am sure Bend will not fail to produce. Every fellow here seems better looking than the last. It's as though I moved to stage one of my personal heaven. Live music, good looking guys and beer. The only thing missing is the smell of kids.
Catching Up
so many things have happened in the last couple of months. good things. unexpected things. things like driving for two days to Reno with all four kids for a single concert, and then all the way back. things like getting a job with the Deschutes National Forest by basically cold calling the forest archaeologist and begging repeatedly to be hired. awesome things like packing my entire life up (yet again) and moving it into a storage unit (yet again) in the amazing city of Bend, Oregon, where I hope to stay for a very, very long time.
Last year, when I made the foolhardy decision to drive all over the northwest for some silly concerts, who would have thought that hitchhiking my way with a total stranger (Hollie Ash), to another total stranger's house (Dusty MacNeill), where I met a whole group of even stranger strangers (Timdog, Josh, Ben, Lindy, Olychild), I would eventually connect with some strange guy at a show in Southern Oregon who would eventually be my roommate (Ricker)? for all of the flack I get about my TAB obsession, I must say it has served me well. Provided me with a widespread community of friends, some of which I have yet to meet (Ben Dover), and many of which have profoundly affected my life in intentional and unintentional ways. So here I sit, in Ricker's spare room, answering to all of the gossipy speculation that comes with the announcement that I have moved in with a single male. We of course, immediately started Avett nerding out, comparing concert experiences, trivial knowledge and signed posters. it's a geeky sort of paradise. And Ricker loves my fat dog. Just yesterday they were discussing the finer aspects of lawn aeration and appropriate lounging techniques. We should be JUST fine for a couple of months.
And there is this boy (Calvin Lowry). silly me with my schoolgirl crush on a boy who is much too young for me. but he has been my lifeline. my sidekick, my shoulder and my muscle for the last few weeks. and now I miss him. he reminded me what it feels like to be treasured, valued, respected. he has made me happy. consistently happy. happier than I can remember being in many, many years. He is the wrong boy for me in so many ways, but the more time I spend with him I know that I love who he is for all of the right reasons. this is what a relationship should be based on, mutual respect, equal footing, understanding, tolerance, and working to overcome the insecurities, attitudes and habits that tear people apart. he has been my hero. and I miss him already.
somewhere in the last couple of months I squeezed out an entire semester's worth of school, and surprised myself with only one D in the whole load of credits. A D that I am hoping to somehow redeem to a C. Ordinarily, a full load of online classes would be a bunch of no-sweat A's, but working 6 days a week, trying to be some sort of a mother, and meet all of the other requirements on me somehow took my grades out at the knees. Since January, I have been a professional house cleaner, painter, hardware store clerk, beer bottler, babysitter, biathlon organizer, student, karaoke dj, mother and every once in awhile, a friend. I miss my friends. I have had so little time to chase them down and find out their worries and struggles, which is the thing that make my own burdens seem easier to bear. When my shoes start to feel uncomfortable, it helps me to try someone else's on, someone that I care about, and realize that everybody has miserable feet sometimes. I am a lucky girl. I am sludging through the muck of a messy life in my heavy boots and I am making it.
I am slated for graduation in one year. Graduation from college. It's only taken me 12 years, but it will be a B.S. degree that I earned all on my own, racking up debt and barely skimming by with passing grades while I juggle it all. I can't wait to have that stupid little piece of paper that kids ten years younger than me think they are working hard for. That will be gratification. The same gratification that I felt when I watched my kids play soccer, or tuba, or stand in the front row at an Avett Brother's concert and sing every word. There is a smugness that I feel, knowing that somehow I had a hand in shaping this thing, this success. I made it happen. I will figure out how to pay for it later. In the meantime, I will cry tears of thanks and relief for every returned overdraft fee from the people on the other end of the phone at Bank of America (I LOVE you Ida!).
I have to go explore my new city now, so I can seem somewhat knowledgeable when I start work on Monday morning. I will be a federal employee. And my first weekend includes a paid holiday, as if to remind me of how completely awesome my new job is, and the fact that I made the right choice, regardless of the headaches and stress. I am happy. I am excited. I am here. Come see me!!!!
Last year, when I made the foolhardy decision to drive all over the northwest for some silly concerts, who would have thought that hitchhiking my way with a total stranger (Hollie Ash), to another total stranger's house (Dusty MacNeill), where I met a whole group of even stranger strangers (Timdog, Josh, Ben, Lindy, Olychild), I would eventually connect with some strange guy at a show in Southern Oregon who would eventually be my roommate (Ricker)? for all of the flack I get about my TAB obsession, I must say it has served me well. Provided me with a widespread community of friends, some of which I have yet to meet (Ben Dover), and many of which have profoundly affected my life in intentional and unintentional ways. So here I sit, in Ricker's spare room, answering to all of the gossipy speculation that comes with the announcement that I have moved in with a single male. We of course, immediately started Avett nerding out, comparing concert experiences, trivial knowledge and signed posters. it's a geeky sort of paradise. And Ricker loves my fat dog. Just yesterday they were discussing the finer aspects of lawn aeration and appropriate lounging techniques. We should be JUST fine for a couple of months.
And there is this boy (Calvin Lowry). silly me with my schoolgirl crush on a boy who is much too young for me. but he has been my lifeline. my sidekick, my shoulder and my muscle for the last few weeks. and now I miss him. he reminded me what it feels like to be treasured, valued, respected. he has made me happy. consistently happy. happier than I can remember being in many, many years. He is the wrong boy for me in so many ways, but the more time I spend with him I know that I love who he is for all of the right reasons. this is what a relationship should be based on, mutual respect, equal footing, understanding, tolerance, and working to overcome the insecurities, attitudes and habits that tear people apart. he has been my hero. and I miss him already.
somewhere in the last couple of months I squeezed out an entire semester's worth of school, and surprised myself with only one D in the whole load of credits. A D that I am hoping to somehow redeem to a C. Ordinarily, a full load of online classes would be a bunch of no-sweat A's, but working 6 days a week, trying to be some sort of a mother, and meet all of the other requirements on me somehow took my grades out at the knees. Since January, I have been a professional house cleaner, painter, hardware store clerk, beer bottler, babysitter, biathlon organizer, student, karaoke dj, mother and every once in awhile, a friend. I miss my friends. I have had so little time to chase them down and find out their worries and struggles, which is the thing that make my own burdens seem easier to bear. When my shoes start to feel uncomfortable, it helps me to try someone else's on, someone that I care about, and realize that everybody has miserable feet sometimes. I am a lucky girl. I am sludging through the muck of a messy life in my heavy boots and I am making it.
I am slated for graduation in one year. Graduation from college. It's only taken me 12 years, but it will be a B.S. degree that I earned all on my own, racking up debt and barely skimming by with passing grades while I juggle it all. I can't wait to have that stupid little piece of paper that kids ten years younger than me think they are working hard for. That will be gratification. The same gratification that I felt when I watched my kids play soccer, or tuba, or stand in the front row at an Avett Brother's concert and sing every word. There is a smugness that I feel, knowing that somehow I had a hand in shaping this thing, this success. I made it happen. I will figure out how to pay for it later. In the meantime, I will cry tears of thanks and relief for every returned overdraft fee from the people on the other end of the phone at Bank of America (I LOVE you Ida!).
I have to go explore my new city now, so I can seem somewhat knowledgeable when I start work on Monday morning. I will be a federal employee. And my first weekend includes a paid holiday, as if to remind me of how completely awesome my new job is, and the fact that I made the right choice, regardless of the headaches and stress. I am happy. I am excited. I am here. Come see me!!!!
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