The View Up Here

And I don't mean World of Warcraft. Okay, people, from the events of this morning, I believe the damn has broken, and I'm getting back with the flow instead of crashing up against solid rock as I have been for two and a half weeks. You'll recall in my last posting the fact that I made a very basic mistake in a cover letter. So, I have learned a few things from that situation. Namely, that I have to stop trying so hard and give myself a chance to just be alive for a while. I know that sounds all corny and, well, California (okay, it also sounds like Ithaca). But really, I've been busily trying to fix everything - my relationship, other people's fucked-up-ness, my own fucked-up-ness, getting the PERFECT job that will lead me down the path of righteousness and wild success. After flying across the country with my cat to start a new life in a new land. Jeebus, that's kind of a lot. For one person. In two weeks. Okay, but here's the kicker. HOW I figured this ...

So I better not fuck it up. I got a job lead for a part-time position at some small, independent production company, and I was so excited over it (read: anxious) that I whipped off a cover and resume immediately, which was around 8:30 a.m. on Friday. By Saturday afternoon I had a rejection email in my inbox, and the tone of it was quite snarky, so I inquired for more details, and I was told in an even snarkier tone that I'd spelled her company name wrong, therefore it was rushed and I had no attention to detail. I made the classic, #1 FUCK UP in a job search. This brought me to tears - how stupid can I be? But the truth is, it WAS rushed, because I constantly feel this burning urgency, born of fear, that if I don't jump on every lead RIGHT NOW, I'm going to lose everything and get nowhere. This kind of anxiety results in skipping through the details. And how many other letters did I send out with mistakes? Maybe none, maybe all. I don't even want to think about...

I really have changed - even more than I thought I had - from just a few short years ago. I'm done with people's head games and selfish behaviors. I'm no longer the "make other people happy and keep the peace, no matter if it means my needs aren't being met" type of gal my mother raised me to be. I used to let other people (friends, enemies, family, authority figures, lovers) call the shots of what my relationships with them were all about, and I'd give them the power of validating my life by seeking approval. Even if they were the lowest form of human waste on the planet, I'd give them some of this power when I was younger. And of course some of those people (not always because they meant to or wanted to hurt me), used that power. I just realized how angry that makes me, and how I don't put up with that bullshit any more. I am so much more at ease with who I am. I don't placate anyone or seek approval or play games to keep them around in t...

I've spent a lot of time over the last 3-4 days feeling bad about certain aspects of my situation. Then yesterday I ran into my neighbor across the breezeway who we've been friends with for the 6.5 years we've lived here. Turns out he's being evicted, and they didn't even give him 30 days. At the moment, as I sit here in my home atelier , I can hear and see the bustle of the work crew helping him move boxes and mucking out his apartment. To be honest, the guy has had a hard life, he's been on disability and public assistance, and he's estranged from his wife who lives down south. He's going to end up in a shelter because he couldn't find a place to live that was in his price range and that isn't a ghetto. He's a smart, well-spoken, educated man, and this is what's happened to him. A painful reminder that someone always has it worse than you. Om mani padme hum.

Today, in the midst of Easter dinner (a homemade tomato-turkey meat sauce over gluten-free spaghetti), Spaz the Kitty ran through the patio door proudly showing off her latest catch: a chipmunk - who was still alive, and who proceeded to wriggle its way free and dart into the kitchen, never to be seen again. Well, at least for the last six hours or so. No amount of verbal coaxing has done a thing. For one thing, I don't speak Chipmunk. But, with any luck, the apartment maintenance guy can move the stove and fridge and get the little bugger to come out. Barring that, an exterminator might have to be retained to lure it out, capture it, and let it go (I'm going for my idealistic, non-violent version of an exterminator. Call me a dreamer.). Why I tell this story? Sometimes things come dashing into our lives and take up temporary (short or long-term) residence in our homes, hearts, minds. Sometimes, you can knock it out with a well-placed flashlight beam and the tip of a wooden ...

I meant to blog last weekend, but the entire weekend sort of slipped away, and then it was time to go back to work for the semester, and then I got sick. So, here's what I would have blogged last week... Last Friday, Jan. 22, marked the two year anniversary of my mother's passing. I spent Friday night feeling pretty damned lonely, so I called Jackie, my dearest and oldest friend in the world who is also an experienced hospice social worker. She told me that the relationship Mom and I nurtured in the last years of her life was inspirational, and she remarked on the question my mother asked me about a year before her death. One day while I was at Mom's apartment doing housework for her, she told me that she was trying to think of things she had taught me, but she couldn't think of any. She asked me what she had taught me. I was stunned at this, because I owe 90% of who I am to my mother. I rattled off a list on the spot, and over the next several months, I continued to ad...