moments

There are times when I still get sad about the people I've lost in the past year and a half...when the feeling comes back....When I can physically feel what it was like to sit on the floor in front of my bedroom barely able to breathe. The moments I wish my brain would erase but they seem to be permanently embedded in there without any hope to them leaving. I hate these times. I hate that these people are gone. I asked the question long ago if it gets easier, and it is but it's still not easy. 

Sometimes you breakdown

I had a moment tonight, during the 13th hour after I left my house for work when I was still not home, when I realized how much time I spend on the stupid shuttle. Let me clarify, I like the fact that there's a shuttle, that I don't have to drive myself, to work but I am not a person built to sit in one place for 2.5 hours each day. I hate it. I really love my job but I can't see myself doing this commute forever. I will leave Google before I do this for the next five years (which says a lot because I've been know to say that I will work for Google for the rest of my career). I miss my friends. I miss my apartment. I miss my clients, both private and at the office. this adjustment is really difficult. 

hmmmm/ugh

Last night when I was walking Lola I heard a noise coming from the back of a pickup truck. I looked in as we walked by and there was a man in it. He was probably the same man who I saw climbing out of the same truck on Sunday morning on our walk. I must have given him some kind of look because he felt the need to justify his being in there. He sorta straightened himself out and said "it's my friend's truck. I'm, uh, sorta homeless so he lets me sleep in there. He works just down the street" then points down the street. "He lets me sleep in here" he repeated. I told him that was awfully nice of his friend and kept walking. What was I supposed to say.

I think this was the same day that I rode my bike to the hardware store to get a rubber mallet so I could pound out the hood of my car. It seems as though someone hit it while it was parked down the street. It wasn't bad but it bothers me.

Not too bad. The front grill (which is plastic so whatever) was bent too. I was able to get the hood reasonably flush with the light so I'm not going to get it fixed (although there are some rust spots on the hood so maybe I should just get a new hood).

After I bought the mallet I walked into a random restaurant to get some breakfast, a place called Chow. I was looking down at my phone as I walked and when I looked up I discovered a friend from Peoria, whom I haven't seen in at least ten years, standing behind the counter. How crazy is that?

Later that day I took Lola to get some much needed fun time in at the upper Douglas dog park. There was a giant mud puddle and she decided it was the best thing ever. What a jerk. She got her second bath in a week.

Last night I spent hours and hours trying to de-flea my room. I cannot stand that they were even there at all. I'm an itchy person so the thought of something being there that will make me itchier...well, it's tough. I've only found a total of maybe five fleas on Lola, two adult ones the first time I saw them (about a half hour before I scrubbed the crap out of her with flea shampoo) and three little babies (about a second before I covered her in diatomaceous earth). She continued to be itchy so I decided that enough was enough and got a big box of diatomaceous earth and sprinkled it everywhere. I took everything out of the room that I could and covered couch, the mattress and box spring with powder. The cats got to hang out in the hallway in their crates. Lola and I went on a long walk and she got to hang out in the car. It sucked and I don't even know if it helped.

So, yeah, that was my nightmare last night. I was not a happy camper at all. I can't wait to go to L.A. tonight and hang out with PK and Jack and eat good food and ride roller coasters and see bands. I feel really isolated here because I haven't made any friends yet.

Hello San Francisco!

I'd like to say that this transition has been awesome and easy and that I'm totally in love with San Francisco already. Well, not really the case yet. I have a good feeling that it'll turn out well but this past week has been trying to say the least.

That's how all of my stuff got here. Six of my friends and I were able to load everything I own into one 5'x7'x8' crate, including both of my bicycles. It took us 50 minutes, despite me being a total bitch to the customer service lady who told me that I'd only have the crate for two hours. I didn't think it would be enough time. Most of my stuff still lives in that crate and will for at least the next two months. The only bad part is that my crate is all the way in Hayward so if I want anything I have to drive 45 minutes and pay $5 to get back over the bridge into the city.

The drive out here was way easier than I expected. Maureen and I had a great first day. I was slightly nervous about "kitty prison," which is what I was calling my backseat setup. I tied a gate to the back seat to separate it from the floor of the backseat. On the seat I placed a litter box and a crate and then put a sheet over the gate. Lola was to sit on the floor. Getting everyone in was pretty difficult but they all went in. 

Ella cried for about ten minutes and then figured out that she could hang out in the litter box. While this was not my first choice of locations it was clean and she did shut up so I put up with it. Linley made no noise, as I thought she would do, and just laid in the crate and drooled. Lola wasn't too pleased with the floor and jumped in the front seat whenever we stopped.

The first day's drive through Illinois, Iowa and Nebraska went by really quickly. We weren't necessarily well rested but we hadn't been driving so the 15 hours went by quickly. 

Chicago and Ella in the rearview mirror

Iowa, skyline tattoo

Maureen driving in Nebraska (our least favorite state)

This does not capture the sunset properly. It was Nebraska's saving grace

We drove to Cheyenne, Wyoming the first night. Our hotel, a Sleep Inn, was pretty nice but Lola barked once at someone who walked by and it made me paranoid that she would keep doing it so I didn't sleep well and even tried to keep her in bed with a leash. This and the fact that we ate Papa John's minutes before bed, made for a rough night and a rough 14 hour drive the next day.

I took the first shift the next day. There was dense fog for the first half hour or so which made for a rough start. I, however, love Wyoming. I think it's absolutely beautiful. I met some guy on Thursday who grew up there. He didn't seem to share my love.

Look how beautiful that is. How can you not love that?

Next came Utah. I'm not a huge fan of it and spent most of the first day warning Maureen that the eastern portion is beautiful but that once you get to the salt flats it's completely gross. I have to admit, it was way prettier than I remember it. I drove through most of Wyoming so Maureen drove through most of Utah. 

Eastern Utah, before you get to Salt Lake City

the Great Salt Lake

Salt Flats, not so bad

We drove to Fernly, Nevada that day, which is about a half hour east of Reno. We stayed at a Best Western, which was not really all that great. The cats were confined to a super small bathroom. I locked us out of our room when we were unloading the car and accidentally locked Linley in the bathroom. Maureen used a bobby pin to break her out. 

Nevada sunset

We took our time getting up and out the next day, as it was a short 4.5 hour drive from Fernley to San Francisco. We were both pretty glad because after two really long days getting in the car was about the last thing we were interested in doing. Maureen did most of the driving but not because I needed or wanted her to. I think she felt more comfortable driving. We hit very little traffic.

California is pretty

After arriving in San Francisco we unloaded the car and ate some dinner. We were so exhausted that there wasn't much we could do other than go to Target and buy some necessities. Target was a nightmare. Nicole left a couch and a rug in the room so Moe slept on the couch and I slept on a camping mat. The next day we rented a van and drove out to my storage space (I scraped the side of the van on the building as we were getting out. shhh, don't tell). We unloaded everything, bought a way over priced box spring (mine didn't fit into the crate), returned the van and went shopping for dressers. We found a way reasonably priced box spring but it was too late. I got a cheap dresser and had it delivered.

We met up with Kristine and John for dinner, which I almost bailed on because I was so cranky and stressed. I'm glad I didn't. The next morning I awoke to find that all of my pets had fleas. Nicole told me that her cat had fleas but it had been treated. I bet the rug did it. I found two fleas on Lola but the cats were itchy too. We immediately got flea stuff, gave Lola a flea bath, applied frontline to the cats and Lola (after she dried). That night we went to see the Giants play the Padres in honor of what would have been Kevin's birthday. It was our tradition even after we broke up so I kept it going. 

I had a work presentation on Wednesday so I went out to the Mountain View office for the first time.The buildings that I'll be working in are so far away from everything but that's ok. The campus is still awesome. I'm the last stop on the way in and the first stop on the way out so I get the longest commute time (yay?). 

I hung out with Sylvain yesterday and today (and I think tomorrow I'm supposed to also). We went to the zoo yesterday. I am so glad I live in the Mission and not by the water or in Twin Peaks. It was so foggy and cold there. We drove home and it was instantly 15° warmer and the sun was shining. The zoo was also way less depressing than I remember it.

Tonight when I was walking Lola, I discovered that someone had hit my car or tried to pry open the hood. I have to admit, I cried. I'm just so spent from moving and then hanging out with a six year old non stop for the past couple of days and not doing anything adult or alone other than sit in my room or do stuff to make my room done. Blah.

My home for the next two months

I made a closet

Sylvain is a pretty good kid. 

Lola has decided that Syl is ok. She even let him ride a skateboard next to her. 

So that's about it. It hasn't been easy but I think it will be good.

Yep

This is me, being horrible at this whole blog thing. Maybe if people read it or I wanted people to read it. My apartment currently looks like this:

Yeah, those are moving boxes. All of my belongings leave on Friday. I leave two weeks after that. I am finally moving to San Francisco. It's kind of amazing that it's taken me so long but it also seems to have happened just the way it should. Had I moved when I wanted I would have been far away from my much needed support system all of last year.  

I'm overwhelmed and excited. I'm sad to leave my friends and this city that I love but can't wait to start my new life.

Now I need to box my tv and put my mattress and box spring in bags. Guest room for me.

Oops

So, I suck. I have not gotten any better at this. It's been four months since my last post, just after Peter's death when everything seemed to change and things started moving again in my brain.  I miss him. I miss Kevin, but I stopped letting that stop me.

The move is on. I've talked to my hr person, and will do so again on Wednesday when I officially put in for transfer. I've sent money to Nicole for two months rent. I've started getting estimates on the actual move. It's all really happening. In seven weeks I will be a San Francisco resident.

I thought I would be more afraid, that the thought about leaving my home of 12 years would be almost paralyzing.  I have moments, just very small ones, where I get really really nervous about making friends, getting used to a new place but I really think that this is the best decision. The time is right and I'm so excited. 

It's decided, for now

Pete's death made it clear to me that I need to actually do the things I've wanted to do. I could go into it all, and explain where my head is, but really it's obvious. I mean, we only have a short time here, why spend it wallowing and wondering? So, it's on. I've talked to both of my bosses and the move out west is back on. I told them that in an ideal world I would go in September when my lease is up, but that if I had to go sooner I would figure it out. Now that I've decided I want to do it now, I hate waiting.

It ain't right

You're not supposed to bury your 34 year old friends, you're just not. It's wrong and I would give anything to not be doing it. I had a dream that Pete was in last night but I can't remember what was happening. It was nice to see him. I hope to have a few more.

One surprising side effect of this has been I haven't really thought about Kevin at all, other than to think how strange it feels to not think about him. Maybe Pete's death is the shock to my system that I needed, something horrible to snap me out of it. I don't know. All I know is that I hate this.

Enough already

You know what I hate, really really hate? Heroin. Heroin needs to disappear already. I mean, come on. It as now taken not one but two people of importance to me in the past 10 months and I say enough.

Sunday, February 6 around 6 or 7am my dear friend Peter decided it would be a great idea to celebrate the end of his 34th birthday by coming home and reportedly doing a bunch of heroin and then not waking up again. Really, you stupid piece of crap drug. You're that great that you have to kill this really sweet guy who was so goofy and genuine. Yes, I know, the people who do heroin are really the ones making the choice and they could just not do it and blah blah blah. And don't worry, I'm pretty mad at Pete. But fuck. Enough already. I don't want to be sad anymore about missing my people. I want them not to die anymore. Okay? So leave the rest of my friends alone, heroin. 

SNOW!!!!!

My, oh my, did we have a snow storm. There was snow thunder and lightning, 20+ inches of snow, 50-60 mph winds. Nutzo!!! I've shoveled twice today and once yesterday and boy are my arms tired but at least you can see the stairs, there's a path on the sidewalk and a walkway from the sidewalk to the back. My car may never move again because there's five feet of snow in the alley. The joys on winter. I wanted a snow storm and I got one.

snowmageddon

Snowpacalypse, whatever you want to call it. We're supposed to get a huge blizzard, finally. It's happening on the perfect day, too. My day off. I've wanted a big snow storm for most of the winter and have been jealous of the west coast and all of their snowy glory. Now, it is our turn. Finally. Our own snowy mess is upon us. We'll see how the dish does, but I'm guessing I'm going to need to rent a movie as I don't have very high expectations.

I know that it's strange, my love of snow but hatred of winter. It's the cold that gets me and the logistics of dealing with winter travel. I hate the bus but promised my surgeon that I wouldn't ride. My boots leak, so I bought new ones. Hopefully they will hold up. My apartment is cold (except for today when the maintenance guy turned the heat up to 85 and was sweating when I got home). Just every day pains in my ass.

So, yes, winter. It's still happening. I'm doing worlds better emotionally this week than last and I am so grateful for that. I do wish this roller coaster would end. I'm going to see a therapist next week. I'm hoping that will help.

Barely Moving

I have to admit that this week has been incredibly difficult emotionally. It's been a full week, too, starting with last Friday. I stopped by Komoda to buy Jess' birthday gift and saw the lavender candies that I always bought for Kevin and it went downhill from there. I hid out that night, but in my defense it was single digit degrees outside, but forced myself to keep active the rest of the week. It's been a struggle, though.

There's no particular reason for this set back, nothing has happened. Maybe it's because it was around a year ago that I last spoke to Kevin on the phone and that conversation did not go well at all. He called and whispered something inaudible which I asked him to repeat several times. I accused him of being drunk and when he insisted he was just tired I accused him of being high (looking back, I should have known he was using again but I was trying to maintain my 'it's not my place anymore' stance). He still insisted he had just woken up from a nap and was groggy. When I was finally able to understand what he had said,"I wish things could be the way they were," which eventually started an argument.

I told him that they couldn't be and asked him where he was. When he told me he was at Kathy's I told him that it was one of the many reasons it couldn't be. I told him that he was a mess and that I could never take him back the way he was and then he accused me of being a mess because of pictures of me drinking and hanging out with boys on facebook (which was completely ridiculous). After going back and forth about why I'm not a mess and he is he told me that he knew he shouldn't have called, that it was a mistake and then just sat there. I hung up on him because we weren't talking. We were just sitting in silence on the phone.

How terrible is that? The last words he ever said to me were that it was a mistake to call me. Sure, we chatted online after that and it was fine but those were the last words I heard his voice say.

I checked my chat records and I told Kristine about this conversation on January 26, 2010, so January 25 was the last time I heard his voice and that's what it said. At least the sentiment before the mistake one was that he still loved me and missed me.

I'm reading Love Is A Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield. I've reached the part when his wife dies and he has to call all of her friends to tell them. He doesn't really describe the process, more states it but it's so similar to how I did it. I remember so vividly doing this, shaking as I called Bob and Ian, Winkelman, James, Nate, Emily, Nickey, etc. I said the words so many times that I just couldn't say them again. Johnny, of all people, and Bob, thank something for Bob, took over for me when I couldn't say it any more.

At least I have fewer days when I'm suddenly and horribly brought back to the feeling I had that morning when I called Lynn. I couldn't get the words out on her answering machine because I was crying so hard. I know that I said "Kevin died. He's dead" and then just sobbed. The words were forced through my hyperventilating and sobbing and I don't think she could actually understand them (I know she couldn't because when she called back she said that she didn't know what I said as I was leaving the message but that she guessed). I'm thankful to not relive that over and over as much as I did the first few months.

I feel like it's not getting easier as time goes on. It actually gets harder. In the beginning I did such a good job of mentally numbing myself and it just felt kind of unreal. As time passes, though, it gets so much more real. It sinks in more and more and I miss him exponentially more as each day passes. It's just so unfair.

so ronery

I hate these online dating sites. I promised Regan that I would try and it's really time for me to move on. I couldn't do it while Kevin was alive and now that he's been dead for over nine months I need to let go. When he was still alive I used to have hope that we would find our way back to each other. I no longer have an excuse.  I need to admit that I don't want to be alone forever. I want to get married. I want a stable family. I want a partner. I'm tired of sleeping, eating, going to movies, walking Lola, etc alone. I think that's perfectly fair. I went to a singles thing with team Peterson on Saturday and it was an absolute disaster. I need someone to step in and help. Someone I know has to have an eligible friend somewhere. Anyone? Something. Help!

food, smood

I can cook. I'm not a chef by any means but I can take some ingredients and make them taste good. I know that this doesn't seem like a problem, being able to cook something should be better than being able to cook nothing. The problem is cooking for one, lacking any better way to describe it, totally fucking sucks. I'm not usually one to just make something up, although I have been known to make something out of whatever I have in the fridge. Fridge gathering usually yields one serving meals, and that's great but I don't want to fridge gather all the time. I want to plan my meals in advance. I want to go to the store, buy things to cook and cook them. After I do that I don't want to have to eat them for the rest of the week because it yielded six servings. I'm all about leftovers, I had left over tamales that I bought from Claudio, the tamale man, for dinner tonight but I don't want to make a casserole and then eat that same casserole for the next four days because it's just me and I eat lunch at work. A meatloaf is tasty, but by day three I'm sick of it's loafy goodness. Strew? Yum. Soup? Great. Same problem. I have some chicken breasts in the freezer that I'm sure I could do something with, but who wants to eat chicken five nights in a row.

Maybe I'm just feeling down because I've made online dating profiles and the process makes me hate life. Maybe I'm just sick of eating alone or eating the same things repeatedly. Being single has its downsides.