I have this song stuck in my head.
Hello, there. I'm trying to be productive, and despite having sat on the couch online for the past two hours, I don't feel like I'm failing. I've written two poems, both past deadline, but at least I'm caught up with that. Was going to go for a walk today, one that I've been meaning to take for about two years now, but it was honest-to-gawd raining and I didn't feel like soaking my Chucks through. (Another thing I've been meaning to do for two years: buy some shoes other than Chucks... it's just that I tend to be shoe shopping when the weather is nice, and they always seem like a good idea...)
I also intended to learn Android today, but I had mistakenly thought it would be similar to Flash. Turns out that I need to know Java. So yeah, my own personal application will not appear in the Android Market anytime soon.
I'm trying to make myself write, you see. I'm out of practice, and I have no idea where to start. I guess I could start in Tucson. This is supposed to be my journal of adventures, after all.
Since Jenny and I broke up, life provided me option upon option. My friend Caysie from Nashville came to Seattle to visit a friend from her Chicago years. The night before I left for Tucson, I joined them for supper, and her friend Marc and I got along well enough that he suggested we should look for a two-bedroom place. And Adrian at work suggested the same thing. And while in Tucson, Charles and Leslie talked about the three of us finding a two-bedroom home together, too. A few days after I returned from Tucson, Adrienne mentioned that a girl from the class I attended with her (yes, I'll actually talk about the trip soon) is moving to Seattle and needs a roommate. It's awesome to know I could step in any direction. And yet none of the options feel right.*
I think I decided that I need to live on my own. I've only lived on my own for six weeks of my life, between Scott moving out from BLC, and Leslie moving in. I know I can make it on my own on the road; I have pitifully little experience doing so while keeping still. It's a tricky situation: Jenny and Lisha don't want me to move out. It's hard to motivate myself to look for a place of my own when I could save money and not have to pack and move. Jenny and I have gotten back together, too, so it's difficult for me to put her in the position of either doubling her original rent, or finding somebody to take over my third of the rent and utilities.
(In semi-related news, when I do get my own place, I'm going to write extensively on Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling and Camus's The Myth of Sisyphus, since both essays explore the agonizing uncertainty with which I face every single decision in life.)
So I have a plan, but I think of it as Plan B, because I feel like I'm getting ahead of myself with it. I want to buy a sailboat--a modest one, but large enough for a livable berth, since it will be my home. The boat will be costly, but paying for moorage should be cheaper than paying rent (a quick bit of googling shows this to be true). When not at work, I'll be teaching myself the ins and outs of the boat, the rigging, and the act of sailing. As my skill improves I can earn some money (I'm picturing a maritime Round the Bend), and graduate to a larger boat and take on a crewmate (I'm thinking Scott, or my father) so we can learn a larger boat as well as delegating the activities. After a couple of boat upgrades, hopefully we'll have the Rosewater ready to set sail.** By that time I'll have not only the boat and the knowledge, but a decent crew that have grown into it with me.
So yeah, plan B. I suppose plan A is to live here a while longer, while saving up money. I do like the idea of a studio apartment, though.
So I guess I didn't start with Tucson, after all. Ah well, it's never too late:
Caysie was able to pick me up in the morning, and we drove around so I could show off some Seattle (like the Troll, and Golden Gardens) before heading to the airport. I got into Tucson at 11PM, so there wasn't much to do other than go to Leslie and Charles's home and drink some wine and talk talk talk all night. Charles went to bed, and Les and I talked more, and started designing her tattoo (the plan was to both get tattoos while I was in town).
In the morning, Charles had gone to class and Les and I skipped yoga and went to the Farmers' Market, which was really nice to go to, and hear stories about. Afterward we pulled off to a trailhead for a little walk. I'd gone to Tucson specifically because I knew the desert would tell me what to do. Now, I'd expected my walkabout to be something demanding and extensive. I guess, in hindsight, I'd expected to go out and think and deliberate and put in personal effort. But as I'd originally planned, the desert made short work of it. As soon as we stepped onto the sand, I could feel the desert taking deep breaths and clearing its throat. We'd probably walked for five minutes before it showed me what I hadn't seen in two years: about a million saguaros, and some spectacular views. The desert asked if I remembered its magic, and I did. It told me that I haven't found Seattle's, yet, and that if I left before I did, I would come to regret it. I was convinced, and that left me open to simply enjoy the rest of my time in town.
We went home and Leslie and I sat down and finalized her tattoo, then she put together a vegan pizza and took a nap. I chilled and read and ate pizza (and could hardly believe it was so good, while lacking all the things that I typically enjoy most about pizza. I still believe myself lacking of the necessary moral character to become a practicing vegan, but can now understand how L&C can stand to do it.
After we'd all napped (well, I read, and admired the amazing view from their balcony), we had more wine and sat in the hot tub. Leslie went to bed, and this time Charles and I sat up drinking and talking. Way too long.
The plan was to wake up and go on the epic hike to Seven Falls at Sabino Canyon. Unfortunately, I slept all the way up to breakfast being served. When I don't sleep enough, my body gets mad at me for waking up and revolts by rejecting anything I put into it. This was always a problem working at T-Mobile, when I'd have to wake up at 4:30AM for work, and I relived all those mornings when L&C served me coffee, tea, vegan sausage and potato cakes. They were not happy with the sausage, but I thought it was amazing. By the time I got to the cakes, though, I'd started shaking and my stomach started cramping up. It was unpleasant, but at least I knew it would only last about half an hour, until my body had made its point. By the time we made it to Sabino Canyon, I was doing just fine.
The hike was great -- four miles out into the desert gave us some great sights, and time for good conversations. I found myself acclimating to the desert pretty rapidly (luckily it was relatively cool, in the mid-80s; only double what I was used to back in Seattle), but slowly enough that the water under the falls still felt pleasant (as opposed to freezing, as was L&C's experience). The falls, by the way: Amazing. A must-do experience for any future trips to Tucson. Even if the four mile hike (and four more miles to return) seems intimidating, you have no idea how worth it it is. I recommend visiting Leslie's blog and demanding that she post some pictures. (Preferably not the one in which I am clearly pregnant, though.) The hike back was rougher on me, but seemed shorter, so it balanced out.
When we got back I realized I had a pretty epic sunburn, which thwarted our tattooing plans, so Charles and I went for some beer, and we played each other some music, and spent another night drinking and not getting enough sleep.
The next morning I rode to work with Charles, since he works at the U of A, just down the road from my old home. I got to my house around 7AM and realized it was much too early to drop by my grandma's to visit (just as well; I later learned she was in Virginia with my dad and aunt for the weekend). It was weird to see the house, though. I almost didn't recognize it: the porch was covered in potted plants, and the ivy that I had ripped down had regrown over the front of the house. Everything else was the same, though: the funky chiles were still hanging where we'd left them, as was the pile of rubble that used to be the front walk. We'd torn that walk out in November 2007, after trick-or-treaters had tripped over it. I didn't snoop around the back yard, [since there was someone living there, and she doesn't know me, and it was 7AM] but I'm sure my piles of dirt and my Blue Moon bottles were still there.
I moseyed over to Himmel Park, and called Scott to vent some anger over the state of our house, and he cracked me up by reminding me of the meat-and-cheese sandwich I once gave my grandfather.*** He said my g'father had conspired with the universe for me to stay with vegans as revenge (although I enjoyed L&C's meals much more than he probably enjoyed that unfortunate sub). It was, alas, too early to go to my old library as well, so I headed down Speedway thinking I'd find some good Mexican breakfast. (I only found closed Mexican restaurants, that early in the morning.) Once I realized I'd made it most of the way to my old Barnes & Noble, I bussed the last four blocks east, and walked the four blocks south. (Tucson's streets are a grid, which confused me with their simplicity when I first moved there; their bus system is equally simple, and therefore also baffled me.)
I got to see some old friends and coworkers and had a really nice time visiting the store itself, too. I spent a good four hours there before Dawna invited me to join her at work. I bussed over there and packaged seeds for awhile, which was cool business. Charles dropped off my bag, Corbin came and picked us up, and Dawna, Danerys and I had a nice chill afternoon in their new backyard. Age and Reba joined us, and it was wonderful.
The next morning, Age and I had breakfast and shared music before going to school. I got to sit in on a class where she and others gave presentations on artists I was mostly unfamiliar with, and I got new perspectives on just what art is. Very cool. Then we chilled back at Age's house, listening to music while she painted, and then I bussed over to have lunch with Garrett (I'm sorry, I mean Ashler). A good visit there (he totally brought me into his head with just a few words), and then he and I met up with Charles and Leslie for an evening at The Surly Wench, which was also awesome to revisit (we even sat under the Bell Witch poster again).
Ashler joined me, Dawna, Age, Josh and Valerie for Metal Head (and their new, abysmal "opening band" Nerd Alert--same guys, but a different shtick, which just didn't work IMHO, although it was funny to see Lucky-as-nerd keep coming to our table and hitting on Valerie).
The next morning was a too-soon end to the trip. Age, disliking goodbyes, was gone by the time I woke up. My cabbie and I discussed Arizona's controversial new law (he's a Canadian of Mexican descent, with dual citizenship; he said he's had to provide his papers regularly all around the world, and that the new law doesn't strike him as any different or more problematic than similar laws in Europe), and then I took to the skies.
My flight out of Vegas was delayed, and making it to the ND Wilson book signing was exciting, which is how I like things to be when I come home from an adventure. I had to run to catch the train to downtown (seriously, the light rail couldn't be just a little closer to the airport?). While on the 73 home (where I intended to shower and change, since I was traveling-gross), Jenny called and told me to get off the bus. I did, and she was there waiting, I hopped into the back seat (I'm reminded of the recurring joke from Malrats), where I changed clothes. We stopped to pick up Ruby, and then ran out of gas. We unfolded from the car, and I ran north to the gas station, while they ran south to the bookstore. The 68, which would have brought me to the store after I'd showered, passed by while I poured gas into the tank. I drove the last leg and arrived just in time to attend one of the best author talks I've been to. (I won't go too far into it, but I do recommend reading his 100 Cupboards series.)
Then we went to a party. I'm pretty sure I didn't sleep for two weeks, including my time in Tucson. The next few days included a trip to Beth's Cafe, karaoke in the international district, and work, work, work. Life is good again. I'm an adventurer again, and quite ready to see where this adventure leads me.
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* Actually, the Leslie and Charles option did seem right, because I feel I could count on them to keep me accountable, but by that point the desert had already told me I was staying in Seattle.
**this is how I know I'm crossing the line from plan to dream: I've already named my first boat -- "Selling the Wind," from the Pretty Girls Make Graves song -- and the ultimate goal, named after Vonnegut's God Bless You, Mr Rosewater.
*** Scott also has a theory that after eating that sandwich, grandpa gave up on life, thus making me responsible for his death four months later.
