Embarrassment. This topic is a challenging one for me; I am very open about many parts of my life and there isn't much that embarrasses me now or has embarrassed me in the past.
Hmm. I used to drink Boone's Farm and Arbor Mist when I first began drinking, but they are basically the booze equivalent of training wheels on a bicycle or a training bra on your adolescent boobs. They're more a right of passage than something to be properly ashamed of.
I rarely buy a jar of cookie butter from Trader Joe's because I'll eat the entire jar in less than 24 hours. Seriously, it has the texture of peanut butter and tastes like cinnamon sugar shortbread cookies! It's irresistible. The same goes for root veggie chips, but those have never survived longer than 2 hours from the time I brought them home.
Wait!! I have a good one. Sometimes I buy hazelnut or French vanilla flavoured coffee even though I'm a sincere epicurean and total coffee snob. Typically I will only purchase whole bean, single source, Fair Trade coffee. I prefer East African and Indonesian coffees; Ethiopian and Sumatran are my favourites. My coffee is stored in airtight containers, away from natural or artificial light. Every morning I freshly grind the beans and deposit them into my French press, sometimes with added cinnamon or allspice. I drink my coffee with unsweetened almond or coconut milk. I do not add sugar, honey, or any other sweetener. Yes, I'm pretty close to being a purist where coffee is concerned.
So there you have it: the deep shame of rarely buying flavoured coffee.
Does that count?
I highly recommend checking out my fellow blog challengers; they tackled this topic far better than I did.
Yvonne's Day 6 post
Dani's doubleplusgood Day 5 & 6 post
21 January 2014
20 January 2014
Blog Challenge Day 5: Biggest Fear
Yes, I've been tardy with and fallen several days behind on this blog challenge. Which simply means that I need to make an effort to catch up and this is precisely what I am about to do.
Why have I fallen off the radar? To be quite frank, I have been having mixed episodes for days and have not felt up to dealing with the world, even writing something that others might read seemed too overwhelming. Mixed episodes are, in my experience, the worst part of having bipolar disorder. For me, over the past several days, my moods have run the gamut from waking up sad and physically fatigued (far beyond feeling "sleepy"), having sparks of what seemed like utter brilliance that fizzled out just as quickly as my focus was nonexistent and motivation also vanished as quickly as it had appeared. I between all of these were hours of depersonalization, which you can read about here. Of the five symptoms listed, I suffer from the bottom three.
Am I simply rambling, as I so often do? Not exactly. My illness is at the very root of my biggest fear, which isn't my phobia of chimpanzees (and most primates) as some people who know me may expect.
My biggest fear is that I will never be able to find, let alone hold onto, the thing I want most in this world. A husband and children. Having a family. Whatever my positive or exceptional qualities, they come with counterweights that may not always balance. I feel that expecting another person to have that level of patience and the never ending desire to understand is unfair and expecting far too much.
Although my medications are beyond invaluable to managing my illness and I have made consistent progress in my life (although apparently not quickly enough for some people) that does not mean I will never have episodes. It doesn't mean that my eccentricity with disappear (living alone for nearly a decade straight is fertile soil to grow eccentricity mental illness or no). Sometimes I will be impossible to fathom. It simply doesn't seem right to expect someone else to be prepared for any weather that may transpire.
With the exception of my dogs, I expect that I will always be alone.
This is my biggest fear.
For more Day 5 Blog Challenge posts click below:
Yvonne's Post
Danielle's Post for Day 5 and 6
Why have I fallen off the radar? To be quite frank, I have been having mixed episodes for days and have not felt up to dealing with the world, even writing something that others might read seemed too overwhelming. Mixed episodes are, in my experience, the worst part of having bipolar disorder. For me, over the past several days, my moods have run the gamut from waking up sad and physically fatigued (far beyond feeling "sleepy"), having sparks of what seemed like utter brilliance that fizzled out just as quickly as my focus was nonexistent and motivation also vanished as quickly as it had appeared. I between all of these were hours of depersonalization, which you can read about here. Of the five symptoms listed, I suffer from the bottom three.
Am I simply rambling, as I so often do? Not exactly. My illness is at the very root of my biggest fear, which isn't my phobia of chimpanzees (and most primates) as some people who know me may expect.
My biggest fear is that I will never be able to find, let alone hold onto, the thing I want most in this world. A husband and children. Having a family. Whatever my positive or exceptional qualities, they come with counterweights that may not always balance. I feel that expecting another person to have that level of patience and the never ending desire to understand is unfair and expecting far too much.
Although my medications are beyond invaluable to managing my illness and I have made consistent progress in my life (although apparently not quickly enough for some people) that does not mean I will never have episodes. It doesn't mean that my eccentricity with disappear (living alone for nearly a decade straight is fertile soil to grow eccentricity mental illness or no). Sometimes I will be impossible to fathom. It simply doesn't seem right to expect someone else to be prepared for any weather that may transpire.
With the exception of my dogs, I expect that I will always be alone.
This is my biggest fear.
For more Day 5 Blog Challenge posts click below:
Yvonne's Post
Danielle's Post for Day 5 and 6
16 January 2014
Blog Challenge Day 4: Pet Peeves
I had planned to write a long and snarky list of the many things that irritate me about people. Incompetence, ignorance, bigotry, etc.
Instead I choose to take this topic literally. Pet peeves.
This evening I read an article detailing the results of a survey conducted by the Best Friends Animal Society in Kanab, Utah. Shockingly the study indicates that younger people (between 18 and 34) do not view pets in a shelter or rescue as acceptable companions. As some experts have interpreted, I agree that advertisements and marking showing shelter pets as sad, cowering, and sick does not help them find loving, adoptive homes. Shelters pets have a lot to offer and honestly some of them have a lot more to offer than a puppy or kitten. Many adult dogs and cats are housebroken/litterbox trained. So many animals are given up or lost and never reclaimed by owners through no fault of their own.
I am absolutely NOT anti-breeder and know many responsible, conscientious breeders. Whom all support rescue in one way or another.
The most disturbing part of this survey is that one would expect (certainly I would expect) that younger people would be more progressive. I find this hard to stomach, but I suppose I am not wholly surprised. I think the idea of dogs and cats from shelters give many people the idea that they are difficult and require a lot of rehabilitation to be "normal." While this is true of some shelter animals, in my experience fostering over two dozen dogs in the past three years (nearly all of them from shelters, a small amount directly surrendered from owners) most of them have been easy peasy. I'd take an adult dog over a puppy any day. They are easier to train because they have a longer attention span and therefore are more focused.
One of the most common misconceptions I have encountered as the director and founder of a mostly purebred dog rescue is that an older dog (basically older than one year old) will not bond to you as strongly as a puppy will. This is absolutely false. I grew up having dogs and cats my entire life, most of which were acquired as puppies and kittens. I have never had a dog more devoted and bonded to me than Gatsby, my 8 & a half year old German shorthaired pointer, whom I adopted at the age of 6. I met three dogs the day I chose to foster him. He was the oldest and the least interested in me & Lola. But I had a feeling about him and he seemed nice. Boy was I ever right! He is my dog soulmate.
If you find the right dog (or cat) they will bond to you strongly, whatever their age. All of my dogs were shelters dogs; some rescued by me directly (Lemons and Foxtrot) and some rescued by other rescue groups (Lola and Gatsby). True, some were easier than others. Honestly the only dog I got as a puppy (Lola) was the most challenging of the four. The older boys, even Fox who was basically semi-feral when I got him, were by far easier from day one.
The bottom line, for me, is that there are an enormous amount of dogs and cats out there looking for homes. They are not damaged. They are worthy to be your companion and will enrich your life if you just give them the chance.
If you would like to read the article I mentioned above, you can read it here.
Instead I choose to take this topic literally. Pet peeves.
This evening I read an article detailing the results of a survey conducted by the Best Friends Animal Society in Kanab, Utah. Shockingly the study indicates that younger people (between 18 and 34) do not view pets in a shelter or rescue as acceptable companions. As some experts have interpreted, I agree that advertisements and marking showing shelter pets as sad, cowering, and sick does not help them find loving, adoptive homes. Shelters pets have a lot to offer and honestly some of them have a lot more to offer than a puppy or kitten. Many adult dogs and cats are housebroken/litterbox trained. So many animals are given up or lost and never reclaimed by owners through no fault of their own.
I am absolutely NOT anti-breeder and know many responsible, conscientious breeders. Whom all support rescue in one way or another.
The most disturbing part of this survey is that one would expect (certainly I would expect) that younger people would be more progressive. I find this hard to stomach, but I suppose I am not wholly surprised. I think the idea of dogs and cats from shelters give many people the idea that they are difficult and require a lot of rehabilitation to be "normal." While this is true of some shelter animals, in my experience fostering over two dozen dogs in the past three years (nearly all of them from shelters, a small amount directly surrendered from owners) most of them have been easy peasy. I'd take an adult dog over a puppy any day. They are easier to train because they have a longer attention span and therefore are more focused.
One of the most common misconceptions I have encountered as the director and founder of a mostly purebred dog rescue is that an older dog (basically older than one year old) will not bond to you as strongly as a puppy will. This is absolutely false. I grew up having dogs and cats my entire life, most of which were acquired as puppies and kittens. I have never had a dog more devoted and bonded to me than Gatsby, my 8 & a half year old German shorthaired pointer, whom I adopted at the age of 6. I met three dogs the day I chose to foster him. He was the oldest and the least interested in me & Lola. But I had a feeling about him and he seemed nice. Boy was I ever right! He is my dog soulmate.
If you find the right dog (or cat) they will bond to you strongly, whatever their age. All of my dogs were shelters dogs; some rescued by me directly (Lemons and Foxtrot) and some rescued by other rescue groups (Lola and Gatsby). True, some were easier than others. Honestly the only dog I got as a puppy (Lola) was the most challenging of the four. The older boys, even Fox who was basically semi-feral when I got him, were by far easier from day one.
The bottom line, for me, is that there are an enormous amount of dogs and cats out there looking for homes. They are not damaged. They are worthy to be your companion and will enrich your life if you just give them the chance.
If you would like to read the article I mentioned above, you can read it here.
 |
| Me with Gatsby. |
Blog Challenge Day 3: Bucket List
Yes, I am posting Day 3 on Day 4. My excuse? Long day, super long (but fantastic) run with Gatsby, and I fell asleep early watching season 2 of Doctor Who.
Okay, now that we have that out of the way it's time for whatever Bucket List things I can remember this morning.
In no particular order.
- Visit Istanbul (I want to go there more than any place in the world).
- Walk on a glacier.
- Walk on a volcano.
- Eat a javelina. (Nope. Not kidding.)
- Ride in a hot air balloon (a proper trip, not just up and then down while tethered to the ground).
- Run a 10k.
- Get married and have a child.
- Name a dog "Hemingway."
- Learn how to make crepes (instead of "craps").
- Eat fugu (poisonous Japanese pufferfish that much be prepared with great precision to remove toxic parts and avoid contaminating the meat).
- Convince everyone I know to love beets!
That's all I can think of at the moment, so it will have to do.
What are some goals on your Bucket List?
Here are Yvonne and Danielle's posts!
Day 3: Yvonne
Day 3: Dani
Okay, now that we have that out of the way it's time for whatever Bucket List things I can remember this morning.
In no particular order.
- Visit Istanbul (I want to go there more than any place in the world).
- Walk on a glacier.
- Walk on a volcano.
- Eat a javelina. (Nope. Not kidding.)
- Ride in a hot air balloon (a proper trip, not just up and then down while tethered to the ground).
- Run a 10k.
- Get married and have a child.
- Name a dog "Hemingway."
- Learn how to make crepes (instead of "craps").
- Eat fugu (poisonous Japanese pufferfish that much be prepared with great precision to remove toxic parts and avoid contaminating the meat).
- Convince everyone I know to love beets!
That's all I can think of at the moment, so it will have to do.
What are some goals on your Bucket List?
Here are Yvonne and Danielle's posts!
Day 3: Yvonne
Day 3: Dani
14 January 2014
Blog Challenge Day 2: Two
Two. Not alone and not a crowd.
All day I have been tossing this topic around my head off and on, here and there, to and fro.
I still haven't come up with anything particularly interesting to write about. Instead, the number two has irregularly interrupted me with "hey, here's something!" throughout the day. Here is an incomplete list of whatever my stream of consciousness decided to spew forth. Or at least the ones I can remember.
I'm bipolar with moods that swing between depression and mania, occasionally leveling out to something resembling a middle ground, but are more often one of those two (to a greater or lesser degree).
I have two dogs.
Two hands and two feet. Two of several other anatomical things, but we'll stop here.
I'm torn between two sets of life choices; each with two options. Leaning toward one and smack dab in the middle of the other two.
As a perennially single person I don't have much experience being one of two.
Currently my hair is plaited into two braids.
All in all? I'm not entirely sure I care for the number two. Even with dogs; I prefer to have three.
For more Two-ness check out Yvonne's Day 2 blog!
Day 2 by Danielle!
All day I have been tossing this topic around my head off and on, here and there, to and fro.
I still haven't come up with anything particularly interesting to write about. Instead, the number two has irregularly interrupted me with "hey, here's something!" throughout the day. Here is an incomplete list of whatever my stream of consciousness decided to spew forth. Or at least the ones I can remember.
I'm bipolar with moods that swing between depression and mania, occasionally leveling out to something resembling a middle ground, but are more often one of those two (to a greater or lesser degree).
I have two dogs.
Two hands and two feet. Two of several other anatomical things, but we'll stop here.
I'm torn between two sets of life choices; each with two options. Leaning toward one and smack dab in the middle of the other two.
As a perennially single person I don't have much experience being one of two.
Currently my hair is plaited into two braids.
All in all? I'm not entirely sure I care for the number two. Even with dogs; I prefer to have three.
For more Two-ness check out Yvonne's Day 2 blog!
Day 2 by Danielle!
13 January 2014
The Garnet and Yvonne Blog Challenge Day 1: NEW!
My friend and fellow writer Yvonne have embarked on a 31 day blogging challenge. Each day, a new topic. Today's topic is "new."
"New" is not the word I would use to describe the beginning of any of the past few years. They felt more like a continuation of the same pattern than anything resembling a glimpse of horizon or the crack of a new door.
This year is different. It didn't dramatically click into a higher gear at midnight on the 31st, of course. Most changes brew and steep for so long that we don't notice them until they've arrived and smack us in the face. Of course some changes just up and smack you in the face, but that's a topic for another day.
I began 2013 with two dogs. I spent nearly all of 2013 with three dogs. I began 2014, again, with two dogs. Through the third dog, Foxtrot, I built new friendships with women I may not have otherwise gotten to know.
Fox brought a lot of newness into my life from the day I met him at the airport in Las Cruces, NM. He was also covered in diarrhea, but I digress...
Fox wasn't an "easy" dog. He was like an adult human who was raised by wolves. Or a adult dog who was raised by alligators and needed to be sent back to puppy school.
At first we didn't always understand each other and became easily frustrated by one another's incomprehensible behaviour. I've said to many people that Fox's "saving grace" was his exceptionally good temperament even when his manners bordered on barbaric.
The relationship that we shared was a very special one and for the first time in my life a dog taught me more about people than he did about dogs.
You don't have to understand someone or why they do what they do to love them.
Judging a dog harshly for doing something that doesn't make sense to you is pointless. So is judging a person on the same grounds.
Most of the time when someone does something that bothers you or doesn't do something that you wish/think they should... it's not about you.
Sometimes I'm a hermit. It's my way of limiting the stress in my life so that I can be healthier and as a result happier. It isn't a personal slight.
Sometimes Fox would do something like dig a hole into the yard next door to chase a stray cat at 3am and then get too scared to come back though the hole he'd just dug and pace around whining pathetically. At 3am. Even though I had to climb onto my shed, over the fence, drag something next to the fence on the other side so I climb onto it and boost his lead butt back into our yard, and then climb back over the fence myself. At 3am.
I was extremely irritated, beyond tired, and the entire situation was so frustrating I wanted to cry.
But you know what? It wasn't about me.
"New" is not the word I would use to describe the beginning of any of the past few years. They felt more like a continuation of the same pattern than anything resembling a glimpse of horizon or the crack of a new door.
This year is different. It didn't dramatically click into a higher gear at midnight on the 31st, of course. Most changes brew and steep for so long that we don't notice them until they've arrived and smack us in the face. Of course some changes just up and smack you in the face, but that's a topic for another day.
I began 2013 with two dogs. I spent nearly all of 2013 with three dogs. I began 2014, again, with two dogs. Through the third dog, Foxtrot, I built new friendships with women I may not have otherwise gotten to know.
Fox brought a lot of newness into my life from the day I met him at the airport in Las Cruces, NM. He was also covered in diarrhea, but I digress...
Fox wasn't an "easy" dog. He was like an adult human who was raised by wolves. Or a adult dog who was raised by alligators and needed to be sent back to puppy school.
At first we didn't always understand each other and became easily frustrated by one another's incomprehensible behaviour. I've said to many people that Fox's "saving grace" was his exceptionally good temperament even when his manners bordered on barbaric.
The relationship that we shared was a very special one and for the first time in my life a dog taught me more about people than he did about dogs.
You don't have to understand someone or why they do what they do to love them.
Judging a dog harshly for doing something that doesn't make sense to you is pointless. So is judging a person on the same grounds.
Most of the time when someone does something that bothers you or doesn't do something that you wish/think they should... it's not about you.
Sometimes I'm a hermit. It's my way of limiting the stress in my life so that I can be healthier and as a result happier. It isn't a personal slight.
Sometimes Fox would do something like dig a hole into the yard next door to chase a stray cat at 3am and then get too scared to come back though the hole he'd just dug and pace around whining pathetically. At 3am. Even though I had to climb onto my shed, over the fence, drag something next to the fence on the other side so I climb onto it and boost his lead butt back into our yard, and then climb back over the fence myself. At 3am.
I was extremely irritated, beyond tired, and the entire situation was so frustrating I wanted to cry.
But you know what? It wasn't about me.
 |
| Foxtrot stole my Kindle. |
Check out Yvonne's Day One - "New" post here!
Hooray! Dani, my sister in awesome rapid biopolar illness had joined the challenge!
Read her Day One - "New/Nude?" post here!
Hooray! Dani, my sister in awesome rapid biopolar illness had joined the challenge!
Read her Day One - "New/Nude?" post here!
10 January 2014
Complete Education
Yesterday I watched a superb TED Talk given by 13 year old Logan Laplante on the shortcomings of traditional education, the benefits of homeschooling/hack-schooling, the vital need to create more comprehensive, innovative methods of educating children and what he wants to be when he grows up.
The topics he spoke about really struck a nerve in me. As someone who, although highly educated, has very little traditional schooling beyond high school (other than a handful of unfinished college degrees in a variety of disciplines), I found his words both credible and inspiring.
My education, from childhood onward, has been almost entirely auto-didactic. I left high school after my sophomore year and earned my GED when I was 18. Even though I scored 68 (only 40 points were required to pass), my lack of formal education has been a source of embarrassment and shame throughout most of my adult life. Not holding a degree and having dropped out of college multiple times has given many people the impression that I'm uneducated and lack a desire to learn, even though I continue to read and study far in excess of most adults, who so often seem to think that education stops once you have a framed piece of paper.
Gradually I have become less ashamed of my lack of certification to prove that I know-what-I-know and Logan's enthusiastic pragmatism has pushed me even further along not only the path of self acceptance, but into the realm of actually being proud of my unique and unconventional education. I didn't complete classes or earn grades due to the requirements of the public school system or pressure from college professors and my parents. My love of learning is motivated by my insatiable curiosity and desire to understand the world around me and the wealth of knowledge that we are so fortunate to literally have at our fingertips.
You know what? I really am proud of myself and my accomplishments.
My education, from childhood onward, has been almost entirely auto-didactic. I left high school after my sophomore year and earned my GED when I was 18. Even though I scored 68 (only 40 points were required to pass), my lack of formal education has been a source of embarrassment and shame throughout most of my adult life. Not holding a degree and having dropped out of college multiple times has given many people the impression that I'm uneducated and lack a desire to learn, even though I continue to read and study far in excess of most adults, who so often seem to think that education stops once you have a framed piece of paper.
Gradually I have become less ashamed of my lack of certification to prove that I know-what-I-know and Logan's enthusiastic pragmatism has pushed me even further along not only the path of self acceptance, but into the realm of actually being proud of my unique and unconventional education. I didn't complete classes or earn grades due to the requirements of the public school system or pressure from college professors and my parents. My love of learning is motivated by my insatiable curiosity and desire to understand the world around me and the wealth of knowledge that we are so fortunate to literally have at our fingertips.
You know what? I really am proud of myself and my accomplishments.
07 November 2013
Home Sweet Home: The Country, The City, & The Desert
This post has been a long time coming, but I simply haven't been up to writing for the past few weeks between my trip to Michigan and Chicago from October 11th to the 22nd and the post-travel descent into a steady, but mild depression which has persisted more or less.
The trip itself was full of family, friends, reunions, food, dogs & horses, etc. as expected. What I hadn't anticipated was my feelings toward and reactions to those things.
Michigan: I flew into GRR after lovely delays at PHX and ORD on Friday the 11th. The weekend was so busy with family things that it flew by. The following week was slower: horseback riding lessons, trail rides, dinner with my grandparents (a traditional Southern fish fry!), and other things that I can't recall.
I finally got to meet my favourite cousin's husband; we went out for an amazing breakfast (if you're in Grand Rapids, MI you cannot miss eating at Marie Catrib's) and visited a couple of farmer's markets before heading to Ionia for day-before-the-field-trial socializing, running dogs, and grilling. (Venison backstrap stuffed with cheddar/venison sausage and pheasant, quail, & chukar wrapped in ham then grilled... enough said!)
I postponed my train to Chicago from Friday to Sunday morning so that I could meet an amazingly awesome Facebook friend face-to-face, meet her incredible dogs, and attend my very first Field Trial. Also, my very first time riding a Tennessee Walker after a week of lessons on a Quarter Horse/Paint/American Pony. Needless to say, going from riding Western to using an endurance saddle on a gaited horse was not a smooth transition initially.
Overall: Enjoyed the time I spent with my immediate and extended family with a lot less stress and anxiety has predicted. I ate WAY more food than I ever do on a daily basis and gained a few pounds (to compound the weight I've gained back from being off running due to a sprained ankle). Fie on that. I really loved being "back home" on my family's property, but I still rather loathe the tiny, podunk town itself. I've never felt at home there and still don't. It's my hometown, but not my home.
~*~
Chicago: Firstly, the train I always take back and forth between Chicago and Grand Rapids, MI is the Pere Marquette which runs on the same track, backwards and forwards. Which means I was facing backwards during the entire train trip, yet still felt and knew the moment we hit the city even without looking out of the window (I was actually reading my Kindle at the time). Returning to Chicago has always had that same feeling. Like a clenched muscle finally releasing and relaxing; this time after nearly five years.
The city has always felt like home to me, from the first day I arrived in June of 2004 when I was 21. It still does, nine and a half years later. Walking from Union Station to the Quincy brown like El station I was annoyed by meandering tourists and the ever present pigeons (undoubtedly fed by the same irritating tourists, even though it's illegal and you can be fined). I impatiently waited for my train while basking in the warmth of the heat lamps (ah, the luxury!). Got off in my old 'hood to see new chains has sprouted up (Jamba Juice, Potbelly's, H&R Block etc.) on a street formerly occupied almost entirely by local, small businesses. Thank gawd Clarke's diner (24 hour diner w/ booze), Belmont army surplus, Blue Havana, and Ragstock were still in place. I walked past another shop, whose name I cannot recall, and was cheered to see a leather jock strap clad mannquin in the window. Same ol', same ol' Lakeview (name of the neighbourhood).
I stayed with a dear, old friend whom I hadn't seen since I moved from Chicago to Los Angeles (yuck) almost four and a half years ago. Another part of Chicago that hadn't changed or if so, only for the better (good people are like good scotch as someone, somewhere once said). Although my visit had been cut short by two days, my time in Chicago was as charming and comfortable as rereading a favourite book that had been misplaced for a time. On top of that, I was finally over the inevitable jet lag. Yes!
Overall: Even after six states, well over a dozen addresses, and three cross country moves Chicago remains the only place that has ever truly felt like my home. Obviously my dogs would be miserable living in the city proper, but somewhere on the outskirts (within Metra train commute to the city) with an acre or two? Yes ma'am. Room for the dogs, room for a large garden, and transit into the city for sushi, Middle Eastern grocery stores, art galleries, museums, the food festival, street fairs, and the Lakeshore.
I missed the city from the pit of my stomach even as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for a cab to O'Hare (for the umpteenth time in my life).
~*~
Tucson: I don't know if it was from post-travel exhaustion or what, but returning to Tucson was underwhelming. The three and a half years I've lived here has been the best three and a half years of my life. I adopted my dogs, I've made lifelong friends, and have personally evolved more than I'd have thought possible only a few years ago. Still, I feel like the well has gone dry and it's time to move to greener pastures. (Yes, that is a very topical Arizona and Midwest analogy.)
The past fifteen days (the number of days I've been back in Tucson) have been largely spent puttering around the house and watching movies on Netflix. Basically, I've been a hermit with a few very notable exceptions: repairing friendships between myself and the people I love the most in this town. Otherwise, going to the grocery store and a doctor's appointment have been my sole excursions.
Lessons learned? My hometown is in Michigan. Chicago is my home. Tucson is not really my home.
(P.S. I didn't feel like proofing this post, except for a bit as I wrote, so please forgive any errors. I'll get around to fixing them eventually. Thanks!)
The trip itself was full of family, friends, reunions, food, dogs & horses, etc. as expected. What I hadn't anticipated was my feelings toward and reactions to those things.
Michigan: I flew into GRR after lovely delays at PHX and ORD on Friday the 11th. The weekend was so busy with family things that it flew by. The following week was slower: horseback riding lessons, trail rides, dinner with my grandparents (a traditional Southern fish fry!), and other things that I can't recall.
One of the biggest highlights of my entire "vacation" was the couple of days I spent in Grand Rapids catching up with two of my closest, dearest friends whom I've known 10+ years and hadn't seen in two years. Wine, snacks, watching "The Lost Boys," having a beer & crack fries at Hop Cat and cackling hysterically as we shared old "war" stories (or what we could remember of them). I missed them the moment I left.
I finally got to meet my favourite cousin's husband; we went out for an amazing breakfast (if you're in Grand Rapids, MI you cannot miss eating at Marie Catrib's) and visited a couple of farmer's markets before heading to Ionia for day-before-the-field-trial socializing, running dogs, and grilling. (Venison backstrap stuffed with cheddar/venison sausage and pheasant, quail, & chukar wrapped in ham then grilled... enough said!)
Overall: Enjoyed the time I spent with my immediate and extended family with a lot less stress and anxiety has predicted. I ate WAY more food than I ever do on a daily basis and gained a few pounds (to compound the weight I've gained back from being off running due to a sprained ankle). Fie on that. I really loved being "back home" on my family's property, but I still rather loathe the tiny, podunk town itself. I've never felt at home there and still don't. It's my hometown, but not my home.
~*~
Chicago: Firstly, the train I always take back and forth between Chicago and Grand Rapids, MI is the Pere Marquette which runs on the same track, backwards and forwards. Which means I was facing backwards during the entire train trip, yet still felt and knew the moment we hit the city even without looking out of the window (I was actually reading my Kindle at the time). Returning to Chicago has always had that same feeling. Like a clenched muscle finally releasing and relaxing; this time after nearly five years.
The city has always felt like home to me, from the first day I arrived in June of 2004 when I was 21. It still does, nine and a half years later. Walking from Union Station to the Quincy brown like El station I was annoyed by meandering tourists and the ever present pigeons (undoubtedly fed by the same irritating tourists, even though it's illegal and you can be fined). I impatiently waited for my train while basking in the warmth of the heat lamps (ah, the luxury!). Got off in my old 'hood to see new chains has sprouted up (Jamba Juice, Potbelly's, H&R Block etc.) on a street formerly occupied almost entirely by local, small businesses. Thank gawd Clarke's diner (24 hour diner w/ booze), Belmont army surplus, Blue Havana, and Ragstock were still in place. I walked past another shop, whose name I cannot recall, and was cheered to see a leather jock strap clad mannquin in the window. Same ol', same ol' Lakeview (name of the neighbourhood).
I stayed with a dear, old friend whom I hadn't seen since I moved from Chicago to Los Angeles (yuck) almost four and a half years ago. Another part of Chicago that hadn't changed or if so, only for the better (good people are like good scotch as someone, somewhere once said). Although my visit had been cut short by two days, my time in Chicago was as charming and comfortable as rereading a favourite book that had been misplaced for a time. On top of that, I was finally over the inevitable jet lag. Yes!
Overall: Even after six states, well over a dozen addresses, and three cross country moves Chicago remains the only place that has ever truly felt like my home. Obviously my dogs would be miserable living in the city proper, but somewhere on the outskirts (within Metra train commute to the city) with an acre or two? Yes ma'am. Room for the dogs, room for a large garden, and transit into the city for sushi, Middle Eastern grocery stores, art galleries, museums, the food festival, street fairs, and the Lakeshore.
I missed the city from the pit of my stomach even as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for a cab to O'Hare (for the umpteenth time in my life).
~*~
Tucson: I don't know if it was from post-travel exhaustion or what, but returning to Tucson was underwhelming. The three and a half years I've lived here has been the best three and a half years of my life. I adopted my dogs, I've made lifelong friends, and have personally evolved more than I'd have thought possible only a few years ago. Still, I feel like the well has gone dry and it's time to move to greener pastures. (Yes, that is a very topical Arizona and Midwest analogy.)
The past fifteen days (the number of days I've been back in Tucson) have been largely spent puttering around the house and watching movies on Netflix. Basically, I've been a hermit with a few very notable exceptions: repairing friendships between myself and the people I love the most in this town. Otherwise, going to the grocery store and a doctor's appointment have been my sole excursions.
Lessons learned? My hometown is in Michigan. Chicago is my home. Tucson is not really my home.
(P.S. I didn't feel like proofing this post, except for a bit as I wrote, so please forgive any errors. I'll get around to fixing them eventually. Thanks!)
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