Packed and Ready to Go... Soon.

Well. Everything is packed. Everything has been put into storage, or into the trunk and the back seat of my car. Last night I slept barely four hours, waking myself with the fear that I would somehow oversleep my alarm and miss the truck pick up. Of course, this was not the case, and I made two car loads to storage, as well as a much needed coffee run before I underwent the tortuous experience of being rented a truck by someone who was "sorry, but I've never done this before".

The truck was filled without incident, and unloaded in the same manner; my friend Kevin had to head home for a computer problem for twenty minutes, and I was left alone to organize the mess of belongings that we had thus far stuffed into my 10x15 space. As I sorted the boxes, chairs, and paintings, I had a sudden moment of clarity; What the hell am I doing??

Suddenly the past few weeks of preparation were snapped into focus, and I realized that I was going to exist for the next several months with only the things that I could carry (or, as is more accurate, the things that fit into my car). Also suddenly obvious was the realization that these things that seemed so, so, minimal also constituted a large amount of stuff. The idea of being footloose and fancy free is a terribly romantic notion that I have bought into wholeheartedly, but really? I thought that it would all fit comfortably into my trunk. Not so, as I learned this evening. Close, but not so much.

Still though, as it stands presently, my keys are limited to the car key, the key to the storage lock, and, for the next two days, a shared key to my friend Becky's apartment. Inspiring? Yes. Overwhelming? Most definitely. Regardless, even if this is only for the short term, I hope to learn and gain so, so much more than were I to stay through another grey winter. As it is tonight, the fog has crept in, you can barely see past half a block on Queen Anne hill, and I am remarkably cozy. In three days though? Seventy five degrees and beaches. In three months? Who knows, though I am open to receive it, whatever it is.

Late Night Maudlin Street :: Recylced

I wrote this during the move from Honolulu to Seattle, little over a year ago. All of the below still rings true, and I sit, beer in hand, in my packed apartment, listening to the track in question. This song has broken my heart from the age of 15 on, and I can't imagine eulogizing a home, a life, left behind without it. Now, though while I move onward from Seattle to Los Angeles --even for the time being -- many of the same emotions come into play. The loss, the longing, the hope, and the expectation. Everything has changed, even if, on the surface, very little has.

Tonight, well, last night if we’re to be totally honest, I was to start packing. As has been expressed in a previous post, I am in the middle of Tremendous Life Change. I am moving as much as I can afford of my current life in Hawaii back to what could be said to be my old life, but is really my new life, in Seattle.

Yesterday, I turned thirty two. Thirty was spent in the middle of a hectic move to Hawaii, a move that was even more hectic because I allowed my then partner to shoulder all of the responsibility in getting us here. Sure, I helped, but not as much as I could or should have. Part of it was that I was resistant to change, and, even at the cusp of thirty, acting the part of a spoiled child. This time is different. This time I have only myself to answer to (because who wants to be in a relationship with a spoiled child? Exactly.), and must handle things differently.

Jamie suggested that I take some time out of the packing to do a post about Music for Packing, which, really, truth be told, is Music For Leaving. Because I am. I am leaving; I am leaving my partner of more than four years (who, in the spirit of our new found honesty left me), I am leaving friends, I am leaving an established career; I am choosing not to live my life for other people.

We could be clever. We could bluster about how we moved neighborhoods in Seattle in a Darvocet and Percocet haze to Les Savy Fav serenading us with “We’ve Got Boxes”. We could laugh when we remember the move from Kansas to Seattle, marking the miles with Modest Mouse and “A Life Of Arctic Sounds”, because, don’t you know, five hundred miles is a long way to go inside a car? (And don’t you know, once we got there, we pined away the nights with “Busby Berkely Dreams” by the Magnetic Fields?) But let’s not. Let’s share a beer and continue to be honest. Lets talk about “Late Night Maudlin Street” by Morrissey.

This song, oh, this song. This song, off Morrissey’s first solo effort Viva Hate, all the way back in 1988, is the song that for years has eulogized our passing from one physical space to the next. There has not been a move in recent memory that has not entailed sitting in the middle of the floor with a beer and Morrissey’s sad, sad lament about changing house drifting through speakers. I am moving house, a half life disappears today... It captures the ache and promise of new beginnings so perfectly. It is the ache of lost love, of a life that you’ve left behind; it was, is, and will always be, to me, perfect.

The rain pours down at the back of the Nu’uanu valley, where I currently live -- teasing me with the promise of a dark and potentially lonely winter in the Northwest. I’m drinking a beer, sitting at my computer, and listening to “Late Night Maudlin Street”, over and over, so many times that it’s embarrassing. It is, however, like a friend’s arm around your shoulder, fingers pressed into your bicep, and promising that everything really will be okay.

Oh, truly I do love you...

We'll All Have Our Bright Shiny Morning

What are we doing?
We're leaving.
Where are we going?
California.
We can't just get up and go to California.
Yes, we can.
We can't just walk away from our lives.
We don't have lives here. We're just stuck. We'll end up like everyone else, drunk and mean and miserable.
What'll we do?
Figure it out.
We're just gonna leave and go to California and figure it out?
Yeah, that's what we're gonna do.

--James Frey, excerpted from Bright Shiny Morning.

The above was, literally, the first thing that caught my eye when skimming through a copy of Bright Shiny Morning today. I was spending time with a friend, beginning the bittersweet process of saying my goodbyes, and she suggested that I add this to my reading list, as Los Angeles and her history are central characters. To say that it resonated would be, of course, something of an understatement. While the motivations for my own journey are far less dark, and much more an adventure and an exploration of myself than a mere running away, the end result is that yes, I am going to California to "figure it out".

Packing is almost complete, departure dates have been set, and there is an almost electric excitement about me. Often I have found myself critical of my reluctance to have adventures (though in truth, I've had my fair share), so perhaps this is also something of a test. There is something that I want, and have felt that I've needed for some time, and here it is, a door that merely needs to be walked through. Perhaps it's the ease with which everything fell together that leaves me a little nervous, but in truth, isn't serendipity to be celebrated?

Right now, with so much uncertainty in the world, let's focus on the beauty and the wonder of possibility; a belief that, in the end, everything really can be wonderful. Let's suspend for a moment, if we can, the concept of chance. Instead, let's believe, if only for just now, that everything is a puzzle, a gift to be used to our advantage in making us the people that we want to be. It's not that things are hard, it's that they're blessedly easy, if only we can step back and marvel at yes, the beauty and wonder of it all.

Ruminations On The Eve Of 33

Well, it is the night before my 33rd year; my birthday eve. I've been thinking about a year end recap for some time now -- forming my thoughts for an end of December post. Mainly I've been looking forward to a chance to kick 2008 in the ass on it's way out the door. On many counts -- both for myself and for those near me it has been, in short, a thoroughly rotten year. There have been deaths in the families of many of my closest friends (as well as myself), some overtly tragic and meaningless, and others while not so sudden, still inhabited by the sense of loss that we feel when separated from those we love, those who've known us all of our lives, those who, deep down, we're not really sure how to get along without. There has been hardship, be it economic or personal, and there have been growing pains, as we all lurch awkwardly further into adulthood.

In the past year, I've moved across an ocean, leaving behind someone that I loved very much; I've made new friends that I couldn't imagine living my life without; left behind others that, while I do care about, we just haven't been good for each other; I've met and faced challenges both personally and professionally that I hope never to wrestle with again; my goals for myself, for my life, have changed -- crystallized. There are babies born (a godson!) and others on the way, marriages (and likely a divorce or two); endings, and beginnings. It's far from hyperbolic to say that we live in wondrous and terrifying times; we have an african american man (from Kansas and Hawaii!) running for the highest office in the nation (a nation that teeters ever so precipitously on the potential of absolute collapse), gay marriage is on the ballot in California, the economy is stuttering and threatening the stability of this entire global spiderweb in which we are all entangled; Lindsay Lohan is a lesbian! Ellen married Portia! We stand at a precipice, and know that we absolutely must jump -- we just don't know whether it's going to be for the better or for the worse. Personally, I hope and believe that it will all be for the best; change is good, the good guy always wins, and massive change is what we need to right the wrongs of (let's face it) the past eight years.

In short, it's been a year, and I have some new grey hairs to show for my efforts. While there may be, at times, a near crippling fear, there is also, at heart, a deep hope and a belief that things will always be better and always look up. A willingness to remind myself of what I have and what I've gained, even in the face of all that I feel that I've lost. For everyone in my life, I love you, and treasure you, and hope that you forgive me my maudlin impulses.

In lighter news, as this is a birthday post, while no one is obligated to get me anything, I have just the thing if you're looking for the ideal gift (barring, of course, cash gifts in large, non sequential bills); a two plus foot porcelain statue of Chairman Mao. While he is a bit dear ($285!), I'm sure that our friends at the West Seattle Antique Mall may be willing to come down a bit, and if you pool your resources, it's really not all that much, is it? Of course, if blatant consumerism ironically celebrating a Communist leader isn't quite your thing, I would also be more than happy to accept the gift of a baby muntjac deer.


The chairman in his luminous glory; and he would look fabulous on a sideboard.


Oh.Em.Gee. Look at his teeny little hooves!!!