Hmmmmm

The Stars

I feel as if I am on the verge of something, on the verge of knowing if I can have a life here. I almost have friends I almost have a routine I almost have a sense of familiarity. Roads, landmarks, directions are becoming increasingly familiar. The woman at the gas station, the guys at the library, the manager at the Family Dollar.

Tonight I saw the stars.

Money is still hard. I get food stamp benefits and that is hard. Knowing that so many of the people I know disapprove of government financial assistance. I say to myself, "My situation is different because I'm helping people and it's only temporary and your tax money already pays my living allowance and I paid lots of taxes for years myself." But really, my work is no better than that of the single mom working at McDonalds and getting EBT. She helps you get that Big Mac. She helps stimulate the economy. You make sure her kids get enough nutrition. We all have different ideas of the best way to help people, of the best way for people to lift themselves up by their bootstraps. If they can only get so high, why should they live less of a life than anyone else? Too little space to give this line of thought the full teasing out it deserves. It's never as simple as it should be.

The hardest part is that I get enough money that I could keep going to Kroger, with its decent prices and good quality products. But when I can, I instead go to Family Dollar and Save-a-Lot and Dollar General and Dollar Tree, where no one looks at me sidewise when I use my EBT card, the American flag waving bravely on it, reminding me of how priveleged I am to live in this country, to be supported by this thoughtful democratic society where we all have the right to the American dream. Stars and stripes.

My headlight went out again and tomorrow I will buy another and try to do a better job of making sure it doesn't fall out of place and burn more wires and blow itself out. I like getting grease on my hands and solving these problems I am not at all qualified to deal with. People are embarrassed of my car for me but I love it. It's mine.

The Reclamation of the Golden Shoes

Hands - Jewel

What I'm eating for dinner

As I was leaving work I saw a blond, Caucasian woman with dreadlocks secured neatly to her head, in a beautiful wrap skirt, walking with a beautiful little girl with a shaved head, save for long bangs, wearing a stylish, colorful outfit and I thought, "How appropriate. I wonder if their life is the way it looks it is, if it is really as romantic as I imagine it to be."

I got to drive more through other parts of Kentucky. It is so beautiful right now! There are cows and the leaves are bright oranges and reds and deep browns and mellow yellow tans. Some of the buildings are still quaint, men in trucks, women on tractors, eying me as any would eye a suspicious stranger. I drive along the highway and can't imagine ever not being there.

I made a delicious tuna salad. If you like tuna salad you might find tuna salad difficult to make not-delicious but I've made bland tuna salad before and eaten just regular boring tuna salad before. Now I know how to make it the right amount of spicy and the right amount of sweet; how to put in enough curry to be detectable but not too much to overpower the tuna flavor. I spread a spoonful of this tuna on slice of Aunt Millie's Lite Whole Grain Bread, sprinkled some pre-shredded "casserole" cheese on top, and put it in the toaster oven. It came out delicious.

Then I pulled one of the cinnamon rolls I baked (from scratch) a few nights ago out of the freezer and put it into the microwave. The taste was so perfect for this day, even better than it was out of the oven, that I thought I needed to make it more perfect. There was no sound in my apartment as I was bouncing from doing work work to scanning pages from recipe books to taking bites from my cinnamon roll. I put on a Joni Mitchell record and I am listening to it now and drinking an-alcohol-free, crushed-red-pepper-infused Hot Places I've Never Been Chocolate.

I love Joni Mitchell but I wonder who loved her first. Whose skin am I trying to wear? Where did I see that painting that I decided should be the ideal for my own life? I feel if the perfectness of this all was more authentic I wouldn't feel so strongly a need to tell the world about it. Or maybe it's too perfect to be spending it alone?

Cost of Living Comparison: compare New York, New York to Cincinnati, Ohio

When I told people I would be moving to do AmeriCorps, one of the things that would invariably come up was finances. I would of course tell people that part of being a VISTA is receiving a living allowance that was just barely above the poverty level, and that I wouldn't be allowed any other form of income. (Obviously financial gifts from family and friends is acceptable as is government assistance.) If I didn't mention the word "poverty" and just said that I wouldn't be making much money, no one ever failed to say, "Yeah, but the cost of living has to be a lot cheaper than NYC, amIright?" Yes, yes, you are right. However, my current gross income is approximately 28% of my gross income in New York. The good thing is that housing really is cheap here. I am able to live in a small, but comfortable, studio apartment. There are larger one bedroom apartments (with 4 to 5 rooms total) for a comparable price, but with fewer amenities. Below is a link to a comparison calculator to show how much money I would have to make here to compare to my life in New York...and to show the difference in the cost of housing.

Cost of Living Comparison: compare New York, New York to Cincinnati, Ohio

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Nice

I went to my sewing class for the first time in a month, after I'd only been twice, and one of the women told me, "You have really been missed;" I could've cried.

Things I Like About Living Here

If you almost cut someone off in traffic on accident, but wave and smile an apology, they wave and smile back, instead of calling you a "stupid bitch."

Whether be the weather

It had gotten cold and suddenly it's sort of warm again: high of 74° and sunnyish. I think to myself: I should ride my bike to work since this might be my last chance before the true cold comes. But I tell myself I need to replace the chain, that I'll hate riding home this evening as it starts to get dark. And so I tell myself that I will bike this weekend, to the library, the city, a museum. But I check the weather. There is an expected 20° temperature drop and rain. Rain. To add further rust to my bicycle chain.

Things I Like About Living Here

It is beautiful in the fall.

Things I Like About Living Here

I don't have to drive that far to see cows.

When it moves

Things are picking up.

I wake up every morning feeling anxious and worried and I sit in bed until I think of all of the things about which I could (whether or not I should) feel anxious and worried about so that these uncomfortable feelings are attached to many facts (or just fears)...and it is only then that I can get out of bed. This is a strange unpleasant way to live my life and so I pray about it but haven't really let go because I think I am so afraid of new feelings that I force myself to wallow in them.

But now, the facts that I attach my anxieties to are my progress. Things are finally going somewhere with my work and now, instead of being worried that I won't accomplish anything, I am worried that I will screw up the things I've finally started to accomplish. I stood in front of a room of firemen and stuttered and mumbled and stared at everything but their faces...but then tried to learn from my mistakes.

Non-work life wise, I am optimistic. I spend too much time alone but I have found a church that I am enjoying, a once-a-month movie event that I have been to once and had a blast at (I love biting my tongue and hearing the amazing, and sometimes not-so-amazing, insights of non-film buffs talking about a film in an honest and real way), a free sewing class that I hope will some day lead me to actually completing a project, and an organization that pretty much focuses on what I want to do with my life: InkTank.

My incredible parents fascilitated a vacation to Chicago, my first time in that beautiful city, and it was the further boost in morale that I needed. Today my tummy aches but tomorrow I look forward to going back into work and fighting my anxieties with consistent productivity.

Food

One of the biggest adjustments for me here is figuring out how to eat on a budget and how to eat healthily. I've managed to eat but I haven't gotten the healthy part down. I will occasionally be posting recipes and stories of my kitchen mishaps at my food blog, What I Like to Eat.

Fortunate Find

I found this fortune at the bottom of a box I was (finally) emptying. I wonder if it is as auspicious a find as it seems.

All dressed up

My anxieties
have returned with a vengeance
on Sunday morning.

It is difficult
to be sure of acceptance
from all God's people.

I am a Christian
I am not a Churchian
for people are flawed.

My Sunday Best

Last Sunday I went to a new church. It was nice and very different from what I've known. I've done big Baptist, tiny Baptist, and biggish Presbyterian. This is small (and less so when school starts back) and Christian Church. I will go back again tomorrow to decide how I feel for sure.

After church I went to a scrap yard with my car with the broken window. I was nervous. I took all of my tools in a cute hat box. I forgot to bring a t-shirt, so I was wearing the American Apparel body suit I had on under my church dress and jeans. I was there for a while before I realized I should take off my jewelry and the flower in my hair. There was nothing to be done about the make-up. I paid my admission fee, walked around, walked back out to get a list of cars with compatible windows and to go to the convenient store for work gloves, water, and cash to pay anyone who would help me out.

In the parking lot, a man asked me if I had someone to pull the part for me. "No but I guess I'll learn if I have to." (When I arrived men asked me good-naturedly if I worked on cars. I told them too that I was about to learn. They said to ask them if I had any questions, but they were leaving.) This man in the parking lot wanted to help me for a few dollars but he had his nephew. "There'll be plenty of guys inside who'll pull it for $10, $15," he told me helpfully.

I went back into the yard and arbitrarily chose a car with a window that should fit mine. I took my time beginning to take off the panel. Studied each part before I removed it. Drank my water. Soon, a couple of Hispanic men (I only mention that they were Hispanic because I had recently discussed how the lack of diversity was unsettling: this land is black and white, with a couple of Indian families thrown in for good measure) noticed my slow progress and asked if I needed help. I wasn't going to refuse. They were less gentle. Pried the door panel off. Worked the glass out. They warned me that because of the way the door panel was bolted in, I would need a professional to install it in my car. I told them that I:

1. Couldn't afford a professional and
2. Drove a slightly different car that would hopefully be less complicated.

They shrugged their shoulders, wished me luck, and refused to accept the money I offered them.

Triumphantly, I took the window, paid for it, and placed it in my car. I attempted to begin installing it in the parking lot, truthfully hoping another Good Samaritan or Good Businessman would come to my aid. But things were not looking good. I was struggling with my door panel and starting to get hungry, so I packed it up and went home.

After a meal and changing into my cowgirl clothes, I went back to work. It was hard work getting the panel off; there were many little oddities and secrets and mysteries that appeared...but I finally got it off. Getting the new window installed was then a whole new challenge. I almost quit for the day before I even started trying to get the window in, worried the men might be right, but I decided to give it a go. At first it seemed like I wouldn't be able to slide it in at all but after a couple of tries, it slipped right through. Then I worried that I wouldn't be able to get the mechanism that raises and lowers it onto the track. A little patience and even that happened...sort of. The window isn't settled in quite right but after hours of work, I knew it was time to call it a day. So I will work on it some more, see if I can't get it to roll up and down smoothly but I felt pretty accomplished. I still feel accomplished. The door panel is also still detached. I'd planned on fixing it today but why do today what I can put off until tomorrow or next week?

Lazy Saturday That Feels Like Sunday

Things I Should be Doing:

• Working on my car
  
• Washing dishes
  
• Writing
  
• Working on one of my many other art projects
  
• Cleaning
  
• Organizing
  
• Making dinner

Things I Will be Doing:

• Reading

Things I Miss Most About New York:

• My friends - but I talk to many of them quite frequently, so this is helpful
  
• Not worrying so much about money
  
• Knowing I would, more often than not, walk at least a mile every day just getting to and from the subway
  
• Taekwondo
  
• Having a church
  
• Having time to read on the subway
  
• Delivery

Things I Don't Like About Living Here

The streets are numbered, but the cities are definitely not gridded.

Things I Like About Living Here

My patio. I think some day, when I have a sleeping bag, I might even sleep out here.

Things I Don't Like About Living Here

I have a myriad of bug bites from an indeterminate number of insects that are of various ages.

General Updates

I bought a car in cash. Half of the paint has peeled off and then some idiot broke into it the day after I bought it and I now have a trash bag on the window...but it is mine. My first car that's really mine: paid for by me, in my name, etc.

I am sitting on my patio listening to Bob Dylan records, sipping vodka drinks, reading American Gods and debating whether or not to bring out my hookah. There is always the fear that some ignorant neighbor will think I am smoking pot on my porch like an idiot. I will go in to smoke when I am ready but right now, life is good.

This weekend I will try to fix my car window and I will wear my new thrift store clothes and maybe continue to marvel at the fact that this is my life now.

Things I (Don't?) Like About Living Here

The sun doesn't go down until 9 PM in the summer.

Bridges

I love driving over bridges. The Mackinac Bridge is one of my favorites. It connects mainland Michigan to the upper peninsula. The winds blow hard and the water rushes strong. I like looking over. They offer a free service in which someone will drive your vehicle over the bridge if you're too frightened, and I love hearing the stories about the sorts of people who use this service: truck drivers, regular joes and janes.

I ride my bike to work. In between my apartment and my job is a short bridge. When I walk over, I like to look at the brown, murky water, watch the debris floating down the kayakers past the young fishermen. I can't ride my bike over this small bridge. On the bike, my body is just high enough to fall over the rail if I bump it. If I look over, I may steer towards the edge. I love heights. I love the exhilaration of being high off of the ground. I love the danger. I am afraid of heights. I once heard:

"The fear of heights is actually a fear of your desire to jump."

Bambi

It had been hours of giving presentations to 11 year olds, hoping they wouldn't get too bored, that they would absorb the information, even if these sorts of things seemed silly or stupid to them. The school was shiny, new, decked out with fancy lighting fixtures and desks not yet marred by discarded chewing gum or stray pen marks, but it was far from our city-skewed definition of civilization and there was no cell phone coverage.

"These kids are like home to me," I thought to myself as I tried not to laugh too hard at their insubordinate jokes. They were smart. Many of them really were paying attention.

After lunch and becoming a bit worried by the motto which (unwittingly?) was a play on the title of the infamous Birth of a Nation, I returned to our classroom to notice a family of deer grazing outside of the window. A buck (a 4 pointer, my colleagues guesstimated, barely old enough to copulate), a doe, and a fawn...later joined by another doe. They looked around often but ate easily, glancing at us without fear as we stared.

From the mouths of babes

Things I Don't Like About Living Here: #1

goMetro.

Things I Like About Living Here #3

My UPS guy looks like Liev Schreiber.

Things I Like About Living Here: #2

People are polite.

To Do, To Do

I feel as if I spent less time today on major unpacking, but I did complete a handful of important tasks, so I'm attempting to feel accomplished despite the lack of strong, visible progress in my main area. To help in my goal of feeling accomplished, here are some pictures of my progress. I wish I had thought to take some photos from the beginning, but alas, the "before" photos are actually after a massive amount of unpacking and organizing was already done (believe it or not. Also, none of the "after" photos are actually complete.

Bathroom

Before	After

Entertainment "Center"

Before	After

Desk

Before	After

Next Time:

• Kitchen
• Vanity/Sink
• Patio

Before we go, some random photos of my new hair do, since I very well may not make new friends in time for someone to take pictures of me:



More updates to come as progress is made.

Things I Like About Living Here: #1

I can see into the distance.

Faces

My father and I were lumbering through the narrow, town streets in the moving truck. The hand truck was all that was left in the truck bed, occasionally booming against the hollow walls. We were on the hunt for a mattress; at 50 my father is too old to spend too many nights sleeping on the floor.

We were nearing the mattress outlet, circling (or squaring to be more accurate) around it as we hunted for suitable parking. My eyes were focused on this search, barely taking in the two old, black women sitting on a porch. One was fair skinned, the other darker than myself. The latter seemed to have no teeth.

"Wave to the women!" my father said frantically as we passed the porch, my eyes already scanning the upcoming street.

"Wait, what??" I replied as I obeyed, smiling at them through my confusion. ("Act first, ask later," is generally a safe rule of thumb when dealing with parental orders, even once you reach adulthood.)

"They were waiting for us to wave," my father informed me. "You didn't notice?"

Of course I didn't. I come from a land where people are part of the scenery, minor breezes passing you on your way to somewhere important.

Weariness

Each day, I'll have at least one moment of panic, thinking about the things left undone, the people I'll probably never see again, the experiences I won't get to have, etc. And each day, I'll have at least one moment of panic, thinking about how I can't wait to get the hell out of this city!

I went shopping this morning: a friendly church yard sale, a not-so-friendly Macy's sale, and a friendly Craigslist sale. By 1 PM I was pretty much done for the day. I didn't get as much packed as I would have liked but I find myself again excited by the prospects of what the future holds.

I'm low on cash, someone ate my corn chips, and I can't seem to get out of bed...but there is hope.

Is this what's in store?

In a couple of recent discussions about racism and how my time in New York has influenced my thinking on the subject, I've mentioned that upon first arriving in New York, I was annoyed by those who bemoaned racial inequalities in the City, and specifically in NYU. I rolled my eyes and declared, "What racism?" What's amazing is that the lack of in-your-face or thinly, thinly veiled behind you're-smarter-than-most-niggers smiles, made me much more acutely aware of the more subtle ways in which racism manifests itself within individuals and the not-so-subtle way it's permeated almost every system in society. I won't even get started on the oblique racial tensions in certain neighbourhoods.

Now, however, with my increased sensitivity to racism, I am finding myself less steeled against the way it manifests itself in normal, less-liberal societies, where apparently the ideas liberals have about all-Republicans being racists is generally accepted - especially by Republicans. While browsing the Rants and Raves section (one of my favorite NYC Craigslist sections) of the Cincinnati Craigslist, I found a plethora of posts specifically about interracial dating and race in general. Here are some of the gems.

• "you give the nasty nigger's everything and they use you up and throw you away and then you wonder why you can't come back to the hard working, respectful white men in your neighborhood. they are carrier monkey's. they spread disease and you are the plight of our community.this madness need's to stop!"
  
• "i said well, really my friends are republicans, i know its a long word, but they arent libs and definitely would not enjoy a ball game loaded with ACLU lovers and libs like rosie o donnel all over the place etc...i said im simply saying that civil rights although beneficial for some and for good reasons, is really set up for the litigation happy jews to pounce on hardworking civil servants like cops that risk theyre lives in the ghettos and get sued for millions. i advised both wiggerettes, i said listen, the civil rights have benefited the jew lawyers more than anyone as they love excessive force cases!"
  

Remembering

I've found myself being overwhelmed with stress as I prepare for the move. More than anything, the issue of money is pounding at my temples, constantly hammering at my consciousness. I alternate between useless worry and blind carelessness. I was in the process of skimming a daily devotional when the Lord spoke to my heart to tell me to stop and take the time to hear what He had to say to me. The prayer that was posted not only forced me to be thankful for what I do have, but forced me to remember that I will be OK, that I do have a responsibility to make wise decisions, and that I have to constantly remind myself that this is simply not about me.

Dear Father, Thank you for leading us in Your paths of righteousness. Lord, I know as we seek You, you will give us the answers we need so that we might prosper and be in good health. Lord, we need strength and health to be able to serve You and help others. Thank You for prosperity so that we are able to give to help those who are poor and needy. Show us the people we need to help. Give us prayers for the lost, hurting and needy. Prayers just cost us our time. Let us be willing to take the time to pray, to give and to reach out to others. I ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.
-From Bible.com

25 and I'm already too old...

DO YOU BELONG IN NYC?
Only until you age out.
Sorry to say it, but you're a temporary New Yorker. Sure, this city is awesome for running around and enjoying your youth, but you came here to work and play hard and plan on jetting at the first signs of crow's feet or when your parents stop financing that party lifestyle of yours. Plus, if you ever decide to settle down and have kids, there's no way you're bringing them up in a studio. Click here for suggestions about how to really enjoy NYC.

Do you belong in New York City?

Holey

When I first got my "big-person" job at NYU, I went out and treated myself to a $90 pair of jeans from Urban Outfitters. The material was softer than my other jeans, the dye expertly faded. Three weeks from today, I will be leaving New York, my job, this life I've spent nearly 7 years creating for myself, to move on to something new. Today, I got a hole in my $90 jeans. It was fitting.

Why This Job is Worth It

They showed this video today during my training and there were more than a few teary eyes in the room. It was a strong affirmation that I was making the right choice by working for Safe Place.

When to Jump

My mom decided she wanted to skydive for her 50th birthday. Unfortunately, the weekend we were supposed to go, she was sick and it was raining. So we rescheduled for this past weekend.

I was exhausted the day of the jump. I had just spent 23 hours on a Greyhound and knew we would be on the road again the following day to drive up to Kentucky to check out the town where I will soon be moving to. Plus, I didn't want to think about the fact that I would jumping out of an airplane. (Please note that I am the person who hates roller coasters.) I downed a can of Monster to try to get my adrenaline pumping, to get psyched and match my mom's energy. (I got less grumpy but not very hyped.)

When I met John, the gentleman to whom I would be strapped for the jump, a lot of my tension disappeared. He immediately reminded me of Owen Wilson (or a smarter version of Hansel) and this faux sense of familiarity made me immediately trust the fact that he clearly knew what he was doing. Even the lines he repeated to both my mom and I were evidence of the fact that this was routine. Routine was good. And as were all heading up in the crowded little airplane...I felt comforted by his presence.

I changed my mind! my mom yelled as it was her turn to fall out of the plane. I recognized that tone of hers, the joke told to indicate the truth of her emotions. Out she went.

When it was my turn at the edge, I tried to remember what John told me to do. Got on my knees, lifted my hands back, waited for him to count "1...2..3..jump!" I don't think he counted. I think he pushed me off. But there I was hurtling towards the earth and those first few seconds were some of the scariest of my life...until I realized it was no more scary than being on a roller coaster. After those first few seconds of horror, I felt more relaxed than I ever have.

It never gets old, John said wistfully once the parachute was up and I could breathe like a normal person.

Would you do it again? he asked once we landed.

Yes! I replied truthfully with as much enthusiasm as I could muster to make it clear I was being honest.

In the days that followed, driving through Kentucky and Ohio, thinking about my future, I considered my skydiving future. Would I get to go back to the Atlanta Skydiving Center for another tandem dive within the next year? Isn't the next natural step learning to jump on my own...?

Oh, how I want to be that person: like the young student on the plane who launched herself forward over the edge, like the old pro who can bring the parachute sideways, spinning like a merry-go-round. But I don't trust myself as much as I trusted that stranger. And maybe that is what this is about: learning foremost to trust fully in God, and through Him learning to trust that I have strengths and abilities that I can sharpen and hone to one day be able to jump all by myself.