Gay Canadians Hunting Ghosts

That’s how I’m spending my precious Saturday. Am I in Canada? Nope. Am I actually hanging out with other people (not counting the tortoise who just wandered into the room)? Oh absolutely no. After all, this is my precious Saturday. Am I living in a haunted apartment? Not that I know of. I’m just watching Amazon Prime, and I found a show about gay Canadians hunting ghosts. That’s not the actual name of the show, but I think it should be. I don’t even know the real name of the show. And I seriously doubt any of it is actually real. But I’ve found myself very amused this morning.

The best part is when they say sorry. Yup. In this show, the gay Canadians apologize to the ghosts they’re hunting. I’m pretty sure you don’t get more Canadian than apologizing to those who’ve gone before us… Could I be doing something more productive with my one of my two days off from work? Meh. That’s not the point. The point is how cool will it be when folks ask me what I did over the weekend to answer I watched gay Canadians hunt ghosts and then I made a blog about it. That’s write I don’t even write blogs anymore. I make them.

My poor person… I have a migrating pile of clothes, there are still lights I want to hang from when we moved in, pictures that I want to frame. In other words, there are any number of other things I could be doing to contribute to making our not haunted apartment more homey. Not homey in the 90s slang way, but homey as in the sense of making the feels of pure comfort. And yes, my planetary lights and pictures from an old Lord of the Rings calendar are going to do that. Okay, maybe not. And besides I have an entire one more day to do because fuck the Super Bowl.

I don’t think there’s a point to today’s blog. It’s mostly me sharing my laziness and new Amazon Prime discoveries. Because this blog isn’t for sharing anything useful. I mean I could have talked about my dad going home finally after falling and breaking his hip 2 days after Christmas or the financial lessons I’ve learned or just the adulting I’ve started doing on the regular. But no. Not today. Those can be topics for a different time and different place. Today, I share with you that if you have Amazon Prime in America, you have access to a show about gay Canadians hunting ghosts.


Blizzards and Fire Alarms

So just in case you’re new and/or I forgot to tell you, I recently moved… in September/October. And in case you’re new and/or you’ve never met me, I’m “slightly” “introverted”. Okay, slightly=very much so and introverted=well… you know. Thus, me not talking to my neighbors in my apartment. I’m not a total dick. I mutter a hey in the morning if you catch me in the hall on my way to work. Or I’ll do a head bob if I come across someone on the pathway betwixt the car and apartment. Oh wait! There was that time the old lady across the hall helped me and the person move our couch in up the mother fucking stairs. But other than that; not so much. However that changed in the blizzard a couple weeks ago and the fire alarm tonight.

I’m from Seattle. When it snows there, everything ceases to function. I had no need for de-icer and my dad owned a snow shovel but not me personally. In Massachusetts though, I suddenly need all these things and had to find out the hard way. The night the blizzard was done, the person and I went out to shovel out the car. Thanks for plowing the parking lot, property management company, but you didn’t think plowing the snow behind the cars was a bad idea? Person with his magical abilities to speak to people, even strangers, without crippling anxiety, was able to borrow a shovel from a neighbor. (I wrote her a thank you note the next day, because like I said, I’m not a dick.) As we were shoveling out our car so we could get out the next day, there was another couple parked next to us doing the exact same thing.

Apparently misery does love company, because the four of us were out there freezing our asses off and “maybe” (literally) verbally abusing the property manager. The swears were flying as much as the snow. There was laughter though. Because, what’s funnier than shoveling snow? Right. Anyway. Now, when I see them around, I get a ‘hey how’s it going?’ And I say quietly, not quite muttering, ‘good thanks. You?’ and they respond in turn. This actually happened tonight when I decided to evacuate during the fire alarm going off.

My person, who’s used to apartment living, decided to stay with the pets inside because he wanted to be evacuated… I think that’s what he said. The mother fucking alarm was too loud for me to hear verbatim. Or I wasn’t paying attention. Tomato; tomato. So I was forced out with other residents who decided better safe than sorry. I saw the couple from the snow storm who were in their car having pizza. I walked around the building to see if I saw flames shooting out of the other side of the apartment-just in case because as much as I complain about the person, cat and tortoise, they’re mine now. And I’d be most put out if they were to be trapped in a fiery apartment.

Then I saw the old lady from across the hall, talking with some other old ladies. I had no idea there were that many old ladies in this building. So I stood close to them to shelter me from the wind. I heard them talking about some shit as old ladies do. And whilst I have socialization issues, I can’t help but have the sarcasm flow out of my mouth at times. Tonight was one of those times. Once again, the property management company was the butt of my jokes and comments. It made the oldies laugh.

Finally, the firefighters came and turned off the mother fucking fire alarm. I said good bye to the old bitties. I mean ladies. Old ladies. And I went into my nice warm apartment. My person was waiting for me on the couch and asked me how it was. To which I replied fine. I could have gone on about the oldies, because I suspect them to be more to the list of people I can’t just mutter at. But it’s baby steps, right? Getting friends or at least people I don’t avoid like the plague.

Sorry for the Convenience

This whole journey… quest… thing to build the life I want isn’t all bad. It’s been no cake walk. (Side note: Why is cake walk a thing to compare an easy time of it to? Seriously. It’s all a matter of luck and all you get at the end is a cake. Don’t get me wrong. I love cake. BUT I want more than cake from life… like pizza and cookies.) I love the city… town… thing where I live. And it’s pretty cool to be able to have a couch I bought with my own money… or I’m paying off with my own money. Same thing, right? However, as noted in the past couple of blogs, things haven’t been spectacular. And tonight, I knew what I had to do to help me deal… I went to the on-site gym at our apartment.

I have missed kickboxing so much. Every time someone has asked me what I like doing for self-care, my answer is always “I used to do kickboxing in Seattle.” I don’t know how my face looks when I answer, but inside, it’s me in black and white looking forlornly out of rainy window. But 1) kickboxing parlors are difficult to find… or at least the type of parlor I’m looking for could be hard to find; 2) kickboxing costs money I don’t have right now. As I just moved across the country and started a new job and Christmas is coming up, I can’t quite justify dropping dough like that; and 3) I’m lazy as fuck. By the time I get home, I just want to eat a large bowl of pasta made by my person and watch mindless TV or Stranger Things.

Tonight though… I didn’t have pasta. AND the mindless television turned out to be a shitty made-for-tv-movie full of white folks that was so bad it made me get my ass of the couch, change my clothes and walk up to the gym. There was no heavy bag. There was no one to greet me. It was just me and the elliptical. Oh! And my music. I was only able to go twenty minutes before I hit my wall and started the cool down. Then I realized just how out of shape I have become. As well as, that near freezing air does not help someone who’s still trying to catch her breath… my lungs are still a bit tight.

So, it wasn’t kickboxing. My heart still goes to black and white and stares out the rainy window when I think about doing kickboxing. But right now, I’m making due with what I have. I’m more relaxed than I have been in a while, which could have something to do with the 2 night time acetaminophen I preemptively took. Even though it was just for twenty minutes, it was about me making the effort to live the life I want. A life with less stress and more energy. A life where I choose to do something-anything-rather than watch shitty made-for-tv-movies. (Side note: Unless I’m drunk enough to enjoy it with my BMN buddy. But since she lives in Seattle, I’ll stand by my previous statement. Until she comes and visits.) Right back to the life I want to live, I want to be healthy and not have my world revolve around work. Not to mention less anxiety and more balance etc.

The Element Exit

I still feel as though I’m out of my element. Serious adult relationship. New job. New location. New clientele. New place to live. It has felt for a while now that everything is unfamiliar. It makes me insecure, and regardless of the feedback I’ve received about my job, I feel like I can’t do anything correctly. I realize there are a ton of factors that are contributing to the way I feel, but the most blaring reason is this damn feeling of being completely out of my element. And it doesn’t even feel like hyperbole at this point in time. Which leads me to the question, when did I exit my element?

Okay, okay, okay. I am aware that when I left the only home in America I’ve known I wasn’t staying in the comfort zone-a slightly smaller area laying within my element. (Just so you know what I’m talking about.) Same goes for choosing to share life with my person and getting a new job and lets not forget the new place to live. I didn’t realize all the choices I’ve made within the past six months or so would push me out of the safety of being in my element. A silly realization, I know! I probably ought to have considered this the entire fucking time.

There is hope that eventually this will become my element… or maybe my element will grow to include the job and person and new clientele etc. But today, I’m lost and insecure. It’s a dark place to be. And in the small corner of my mind where my logic is currently cowering, it’s not quite as dark. It’s here I can remind myself of the change in seasons and other things in addition to all the aforementioned bull shit that are contributing to the discomfort. It is here that I can perhaps entertain the possibility this madness won’t last forever.

I’ve made enough changes in my life to know that it’s usually after the honeymoon phase has come to an end, this phase begins. The realization of having exited your element. I also know given time the stupidly dark phase I’m in will end and thus will begin the hitting the stride phase. Or at least it has before. I’ve never made all the changes at once, and to be honest, this is my first real quasi-grown=up relationship. So, all the things that are coming up with my person are completely new and different. There are no regrets though. I wouldn’t change my life for anything I can think at the moment. Well… maybe a good bowl of spaghetti. I probably should have had more than stir-fry for dinner. I tend to go and stay in dark places when I’m hungry… reason 27 for why I am feeling all dark and stormy right now.

Straight to the Gut

I was well aware there’d be trade-offs for moving across the country. I mean I’ve lived in London before… I know you miss out on things when you don’t live near your family and/or friends. For example, my oldest friend (not age… length of time. I mean her mom remembers the first time my parents brought me to church after I was born amount of time) got married yesterday. It was a blow when she told me she’d be getting married so soon after I left. I knew chances were slim to none that I’d be able to make it back for he wedding, but she understood.

However, what I forgot about was the unexpected life’s sucker punches to the gut. They happen where ever you’re living. They happen regardless your financial situation. I’ve had them happen when I lived at home and the times when I haven’t been living at home and when I’ve been travelling. Today, life saw that I wasn’t expecting anything terrible to happen at the moment-what else is to be expected on a lazy Sunday evening? Then I noticed some Facebook posts from some family talking about a friend dying. In my world, it’s safe to assume, I could find out from my parents.

When I texted my mom to find out who died, I was expecting a vaguely familiar name of someone who was closer to 100 than 50. But when my mom answered, it confused the fuck out of me. Normally, when I have such text exchanges with one or both my parents, I usually do the text version of solemnly nodding. Not today though! My person asked what was wrong because he heard the reaction to the text. So, I told him that a family friend had died. This friend was also my boss for a year when I was in my twenties. She hired me at time in my life when I floundering.

I’m not stupid. She’d have died even if I had been in Seattle. Yet… there’s something more comforting to get bad news at home than when you’re in somewhere unfamiliar. I also know that the next time life decides to sucker punch me, it’ll be a bit easier than it was this time. Not because the news will be any better. It’ll be because my surroundings will be that much more familiar. AND my person will be that more familiar with what to do when I get bad news.

This won’t be the first funeral I’ll have missed because of distance. It won’t be the last either. But tonight my heart is sad and my stomach is sore. (It has nothing to do with amount of chicken strips I ate earlier.) After I finish this, I’ll turn out my light and replay the last time we talked. Tomorrow, I’ll go to work and get through my day, and I’ll be grateful to a woman who gave me a chance for me to realize doing admin wasn’t the direction where I wanted my life to go. And I’ll remember her when there are quiet moments between clients and on my commute.

What the Deuce?

So I had grand plans. They were fucking awesome. I was going to start blogging again as soon as I arrived in Massachusetts and blog all about starting over. Except my laptop screen cracked on the trip across the US, and it took about 2 months to get it fixed and returned. I got it back today. I missed my computer. Okay, okay, okay… I probably should rewind and start at the beginning. I was born in Seattle on a cold winter’s morn in 1980. Hang on. That may be too far back. How about I go back to 3 months ago?

Threeish months ago-give or take a couple of weeks-I told my bosses to shove their stupid job up their stupid asses. Fiiiiiine. I didn’t use those exact words, but I did give my notice, because I was planning on moving to the east coast with my person in September. Did I already have a job? Nope. Did he have a job lined up? Nope again. Had we been living together before we moved? Of course not. Well… had we at least taken a road trip as a unit? Define road trip-nothing more than a few hours in the car together. That’s correct. We decided to take our first road trip together in order to move across the country and in together and both of us have a switch in job.

Listen. When you do all the changes at once, you won’t have to have any changes for a long time. That’s just how it works. Okay. Probably not. But it was the choice I made. It was the choice my person I made. And about two months ago, we left Seattle with all that we could fit into my car to move to the east coast. The plan was to hang out for three weeks to see if I could get a job. Genius plan, am I right?! Well shut the fuck up. Because it worked out this time.

Seriously. It was ridiculous. The first week in Massachusetts I had 3 or 4 interviews. I went to them all and nailed them. Or so I thought. But I hadn’t heard anything by the end of the week. Now, I know what you’re thinking… “Doesn’t it take more than a few days to hire someone?” To which I say, in normal circumstances yes, but I NEEDED a job ASAP. I only had 2 interviews lined up for the following week. It was looking like we’d be driving back across the country. Except, I went to both of those interviews and by Wednesday I had to choose between money and job that sounded like something that would be an overall amazing experience. I chose the latter.

After accepting the job, we had to find a place to live. My person handled that like a pro, and he found a place that we could move into the weekend before I started my job. Thus we moved into together. Is it a nice place? Meh. But it’s ours. And hopefully, soon, it will look like we live there and aren’t just squatting. Because we only drove my car across the country, we didn’t have a bed until last week when our friend came with all our stuff. Lemme tell you… air mattresses were only meant to be slept on for 3 days tops-not 3 weeks. I know this to be fact. But like I said, we have a bed now. And a life-size Legolas cutout hanging out in the closet. But that’s a different story for a different time.

Are You Kidding Me!?

Not only is the best Batman now dead, but for the second Saturday in a row, I’m doing car bullshit!!! No one told me this was what being a grown up was about. I came in for an oil change and the mother fucking airbag recall everyone seems to have, and boom somehow I need a full service thingy because miles. I thought moving back in with my parents who live closer to my work would save the mileage on my car. BUT my person lives in the country. Literally when I was a kid, my family went camping and vacationed where he now lives.

I’m really not complaining though. I do enjoy spending time with my person. And going on adventures is worth it. Plus. ┬áMy dad is coming to pick me up. And I have earbuds to listen to all the podcasts!!! Seriously. I discovered podcasts at the beginning of the year. Need I say my mind has been totally blown since then. True crime. Personal stories. Movie talk. Historical things. Etc. I love them all. Hmm the receptionist woman keeps coming in, and I can’t understand a damn word she says. But apparently it hasn’t been me she wants. So I continue to wait. And wait.

My dad is a slow driver. I mean I love him; he just is slow as snot. And I’m only wearing just one earbud so if they call my name, I’ll be ready. Nope. It’s never me. It doesn’t matter if I dropped off my car less than an hour ago. Shut up. I am too patient. There could be free water that I probably should drink. I’m too old for this bullshit. Waiting is a luxury I do not have. Aaaaand I sound like a crotchety old woman. Maybe I’m okay with that. After all, there shouldn’t be more expected of me with two weeks in a row of car bullshit.