Thankful in Texas

There are a few more tales from Illinois, but since all this gratitude is flying around, I figured I would get caught up in the spirit of Thanksgiving. 

If you've been reading, you know I've spent a lot of time with various family members in the past 11 weeks. When I set out on this journey, it was with the knowledge that I had a bunch of people willing to welcome me into their homes. I suppose I take that knowledge for granted, because I've always had it. 

My family is large and I happen to like just about everyone in it. The only times I realize how lucky I am is when I hear a friend talk about not being able to ask a parent for assistance. I would never say it was easy to go to my parents for a loan, but I knew I COULD and I also knew they would do what they could to help. And they did. Even threw in extra, in case I had "underestimated". They're always thinking practically, which makes it easier for me to be a little flakey right now. One of my friends sincerely doesn't feel wanted or cared for by his parents and it took me a very long time to just accept his word on the matter. I guess because it was so unimaginable to me.

All three of my sisters and the brothers-in-law who are matched to them are people with whom I enjoy spending time. I may have more in common with some, but each of them are interesting and generous and make me cry at the thought of all the love I feel for them. T & C probably have the least in common with me, which only makes a visit with them more exotic. They've lived in places I'll probably never see and done work I know I'll never do, all in service of this country and I couldn't be prouder. A HUGE amount of thankfulness for their safe return from a combined 4(!) tours of duty. S & J's hospitality was (and will be again, I'm sure) outstanding. And they gave me a nephew, a niece and another huge branch of extended family I'm glad to know, and feel a part of. LB & B welcomed me and took me to The Cockroach Museum. They also share my sense of humour and I will will ALWAYS be grateful for that.

My grandpa is alive and driving and doing pretty darn well. Our relationship is a bit strained at the moment and may continue to be, but I love him and think about him daily. I have aunts and uncles I enjoy visiting. My Aunt J is a super neat lady and I wish I saw more of her. I have an embarrassment of riches when it comes to cousins. I'm focusing on a few, but only because I've been able to spend more time with them recently. O has become a nearly daily touchstone for me and I'm excited to be interacting with him on a (mostly) adult level. I'm glad he's forgiven me for being mean to him and I appreciate what a good listener he is. M is fun and funny and gives me a different perspective on a variety of topics. It's cool how different our lives are and how much we can still find to talk about. Those two weeks I spent with A, as I've previously mentioned, went by so quickly. She's a sweetheart and the main reason I'm thankful for unlimited texting. (Flirting with boys is a close second.)

Then there are my friends, my created family. I've got a whole passel of them all over the country and I'm grateful to the ones who've been around a long time for their loyalty and patience, the ones who are newer for embracing me, and to facebook for the ones who've resurfaced. 

The C family stood in for my biological family on many occasions and I'm thankful to have been a part of their family for so long. My friend C (the other one) has been my main ass-kicker for many years and I appreciate her bluntness and her advice; it hasn't missed yet. Which leaves C. He's housed me as if I were a family member and he bought me drinks as if he were hoping to get lucky. Thank goodness I finally opened myself up and thank even more goodness he noticed. 

Were you paying attention? Do you realize all my "thankful for"s are people? They're all I've got right now. And I've never been happier. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

Insight In Illinois

On the occasion of my Aunt N's birthday, several relatives and I visited her at her new home (the first time for me), complete with a horse pasture. N, along with Uncle D, bought this teeny, tiny house on stilts near a river, with a bunch of land. Add a fence and 4 horses and it's turned into a ranch. Without a barn. When I stopped by, Uncle D was in the process of building the stalls, as well as a large guest house. He pointed out where everything would be; a wall here, a fireplace over there. His creativity and construction skills have been proven time and again. There will no doubt be a wonderful barn and guest house in that space. 

Later, back in her teeny, tiny house, Aunt N described the plans for expanding it. Another big project. And all I could think of was that I couldn't picture any of it. Just seemed like an awfully big undertaking. I had a similar experience when visiting my cousin S. She lives in a big, old house on a tree-lined street. The visit was great. I got to meet her new baby and see a couple of her other kids when I dropped in for dinner. When I mentioned this to O, he asked "isn't the house beautiful?" My first reaction was, "it's a disaster!" I could tell he was shocked. That's because he (as well as S) can imagine how gorgeous it would be when the renovations are finished. I saw stacks of boxes and an unfinished staircase. 

The more I reflected on these two visits, I realized this lack of vision has been pervasive throughout my life. When my family moved from one state to another, my parents often chose a house with great "potential". I wanted a furnished house with the smell of chocolate chip cookies wafting through every room. My parents were always right; they picked the best houses for our family. And over the years and lots of household projects, each homes' potential was realized. Only when one of our homes had reached this "finished" state, was I able to see what my parents had been talking about all along. Pondering all of this led me to the following:

For a while now, I've been telling people a story about how I came to be working on the book project I should probably be working on right this very minute. The tale goes something like this: After years of trying to produce the next Great American Novel (and failing, time and time again),nearly two years ago, I stumbled into a small writing assignment. Really, just a request from an old friend. And it was work outside my comfort range as well. I struggled with the writing. As in got stomach aches and cried over the writing. But. I FINISHED the writing, work for which I was genuinely proud of myself. 

Around the same time, another friend offered me another small writing assignment. This new work was much simpler, but fairly boring. Again, I FINISHED the writing and handed in quite a decent article. I believe this was the day I had an epiphany about my creativity. It was: I don't have much. Certainly not enough to make up a novel out of my head. I couldn't even figure out how to fictionalize my own experiences. And instead of feeling depressed with this realization, I felt free. It was a great relief to no longer feel as if I had to live up to an expectation which was apparently out of my reach. 

Coming to terms with my limits enabled me to think about how I could apply my desire to write to a project I might actually be able to finish. Even in the early stages of the project, I could imagine the end. Knowing I was capable of completing something, and doing it well, to boot, was a new feeling for me. As I get closer to finishing, I'm becoming a little afraid. What will I do next? I'm not able to picture what my life will be like when I'm done. Will I think of a new project? Maybe I'll go in an entirely new direction? No way for me to tell; I'm just not that creative.

Thanks, O

So much for contentment; it didn't last long. Does it ever? Should it? There are more Illinois tales to tell, but I have something else on my mind today. 

Lots of people have asked me if I miss my apartment and the stuff that filled it. I can honestly answer "no". And it feels really good to be able to say that. Even though the homesick pangs get stronger and closer together as the days go by, they are for the PEOPLE  and the ENERGY of NYC, not the books or sofa to which I can no longer lay claim. 

Now I'm going to tell a story about a trip to The Container Store, but stick with me; it'll come together. My sister needed to pick up something at the aforementioned organization emporium, so we stopped in after dinner last night. I clearly recall a trip I took to a branch of this store in Manhattan around the same time last year. It was a rainy day and I spent a couple of hours making sure to walk down every aisle, so as not to miss anything. And I also put many things in my basket: rolls of beautiful wrapping paper, irresistible "stocking stuffer" items, a mini vacuum for keyboards, etc. 

Just as clear in my mind is the day I cleared out the drawers and closet of my apartment, in the preparation of leaving, and wondered what to do with all of these things. I had enough wrapping paper for the next 3 Christmases, which meant I most likely hadn't needed those rolls I picked up at TCS. The vacuum hadn't been used once; my laptop's keyboard remains kinda dusty to this day. Some of these things I passed on to others, hoping they will find some usefulness. Some of it I didn't mind tossing right in the trash. I was angry at myself for wasting money I didn't have to waste and for taking up space I didn't have to spare in my home.

So, during this visit to TCS last night, I noticed right off the bat how familiar everything was. The whole holiday set-up, the bins of cute and clever and stocking-worthy items. I also noticed that while I enjoyed browsing through every aisle just like last year, I didn't feel the same compulsion to HAVE those things which were displayed on the shelves. And not only because I have no place to put them. I really don't desire things in the same way I once did. 

This is all good, right? I think so, too. But I think it's lame that I do. I don't want to feel a sense of pride or accomplishment for not wanting what is, essentially, useless crap. I also don't want to feel the need to punish myself should I find myself wanting a bit of that crap, whether it's tomorrow or a year from now. I'm not interested in living like a monk, just in being more mindful of how I spend my money and how I live in my space. I just want to feel at peace with my decisions; no judgements, of either the positive or negative variety.

 I have this thought that since I'm working really hard to stop beating myself up for making mistakes, I also shouldn't be giving myself mental high-fives for doing some trivial little thing like not wanting things I can't afford or fit in my backpack. When I shared these feeling with cousin O earlier today, he told me he couldn't see anything wrong with doling out a little self-praise once in a while. In most cases, I'd say I'm right. In most cases, O would probably say I'm right. But in THIS case, I sorta want him to be right. Because I could use the positive reinforcement. This ontheroad thing might be starting to get to me. Just a little bit.

Contentment

Once ensconced in cousin A's home, I didn't feel the need to leave for two weeks. Not only am I crazy about her, but we seemed to get into a rhythm which suited us both. I even believed her when she said she would miss me: I know I've already been missing her. 

A is everyone's favorite person and it used to drive me nuts because I'd always imagined myself as America's Sweetheart. Never mind that I'm not kind (or tall) enough, I felt it was my rightful title and A was usurping it. Eventually, I came to terms with my lack of kindness (and height) and realized that since I think the world of her, it was natural for the rest of the world to do the same.  In one of my kinder moves, ever since she told me of her pregnancy (with her now one year old, N), I even decided to stop spreading nasty, false rumours about her.

While N is as charming as can be, those days I spent hanging out with her only cemented my feelings of being very happy to NOT have a similar responsibility. A is a wonderful mother and from what I saw, enjoying every moment with her baby. Even planning for more. Maybe it's been a while since I've spent much time around small children and I'm just out of practice. Maybe the idea of putting in as much effort as I see A doing is exhausting to me. Maybe I really am over my baby fever. Whatever the reason, I was once again surprised to find myself in the "love them then leave them" category. 

Not only have I given up my dreams of being adored by all, I've given up the idea of myself as Super Mom. I'm not sad about these lost titles, just sad to have wasted so many years thinking I needed them to be applied to me. It's a good feeling to no longer yearn for something that may never happen. And an even better feeling to be satisfied with knowing that while I'm adored by way less than everybody, they're the right bodies.

It's About Time

Why do I suck so badly at updating this blog/travelog? There's plenty to write about and I even catch myself composing sentences in my head. Often. But I just don't take the time to type them out into a cohesive post here. When I do get the chance to commune with my computer, I'm usually catching up with a friend or getting my daily dose of news from www.dlisted.com . But since scads of my followers (read: my sister) have been clamoring for more from me, here goes:

    The Top 16 Most Wonderful Things About A Bus/Train Trip From 

  Yarmouth, Nova Scotia To Chicago, Illinois

16. Getting an entire bus to myself for the first 5 hour ride to Halifax in which I could sleep and revel in fond memories of my final night and morning with P.

15. Truly beautiful scenery throughout Nova Scotia, including a portion of the trip during which I was literally heading INto the sunRISE. Seemed pretty symbolic of my new beginning. You do get it, don't you? Also, a town called Mahone, where I decided I could definitely live. Until the next 45 hours made it clearer than ever that I want to have easy access to a major airport.

14. Nearing the city of Halifax and witnessing population density more along the lines of my comfort level. And, lame as it is, seeing a Starbucks. I don't even drink coffee, but it made me happy none the less.

13. Listening to Hare Krishna teenagers explain their philosophies to strangers and then ask for a donation for the "free" books (read: pamphlets) they've just distributed. Also, smelling the curry they'd packed for the overnight journey. For real.

12. A bus driver who acted as tour guide and reminded me of the scary robot/almost Buffy's stepdad played by John Ritter: creepily cheerful and wholesome with an undercurrent of menace.

11. The few minutes of internet connection I was able to get at various stops along the way.

10. Wearing no watch, I honestly can't say how much sleep I was getting. I know I woke up a lot, but I also fell asleep a lot. I could fool myself into thinking I'd gotten plenty of rest. Not for long, mind you, but still.

9. Seeing the first snow of the season sometime in the middle of the night, somewhere in Quebec, stopped at some no-name motel reminiscent of the settings of several horror films, for what the new driver promised would be "a good lunch". Never should have doubted him. Or the motel restaurant named "restaurant". (Noncapitalization intended.)

8. Changing clothes and brushing my teeth in the Montreal bus terminal at 6am. And getting myself from said terminal to the train station via subway (le Metro), using my high school French.

7. The croissant, fruit and free wifi I enjoyed in the Gare Centrale, waiting for my train.

6. The suddenly luxurious-seeming accommodations of Amtrak Coach Class.

5. Crossing the border and turning my phone back on after 17 days.

4. A walk around the surprisingly charming Schenectady, NY. And the fish & chips and beer I devoured in the pub next door to the quite uncharming train station.

3. Not being beheaded by the crazy man sitting across the aisle from me on the ultra luxurious train (foot rests!), ranting to himself for much of the ride. And him disembarking in Cleveland, leaving me with several hours of peace and quiet.

2. The long shower in cousin E's apartment which washed away 2 days of grime and desperation.

1. Lying flat for the first time in 63 hours under a down comforter on the futon in cousin A's guest room.

And the dream

A couple of years ago, as I was reading the NYTimes, I came across a piece written by some guy about his recurring dream. He perfectly described some of my favorite dreams with what I've since learned is a very common theme.

The gist is that I open some closet door and discover a whole new room I never knew existed in my home. It is always large and never furnished. Just a big, empty room. Sometimes it's an entire wing. The dream has taken place in my apartment, but most often in a place I don't recognize; I just KNOW it's home. I loved these dreams for obvious reasons: the pleasant surprise, the clean slate, the possibilities, the upgrade in square footage. Of course, there was always the let down of awakening to realize no matter how hard I searched, I was never going to find more space in my place, but in my mind, those moments of discovery outshine the reality hits.

The reason I bring this up? Last week, in some 20 minute chunk of time I managed to sleep on a 15 hour train ride, the dream came to me once again, with a twist. This time, as I removed my backpack and placed it on the floor, I saw something new; a feature which had escaped my notice until that very moment. My best guess, in my fuzzy recollection, is that the feature was some sort of bedroll that hooked onto the front of the pack.

These are 2 possible interpretations I've managed to come up with:
1) I really do consider that backpack my home. It's true I haven't missed my apartment or anything I gave away. Not for a second. And I have been more or less living out of it for a few months now.
2) I really, really, really needed to lie down and get some sleep. As I do now. Thank goodness I'm not on a train tonight.

Once again I find myself falling behind in my travel-logging. But maybe I just need to let go of the idea that I have to keep a linear thread going here. I WILL write about my long-ass bus ride and the visit to my grandmother's grave, but right now, I feel like writing about this.

My cousin A and I had a long talk tonight about something I feel very comfortable sharing with friends, and frankly, sometimes virtual strangers. And yet it is so difficult to discuss with family members. So difficult, in fact, that I don't. This has to change and I feel I'm working towards that end, but I seem to have hit a bump in the road.

I understand what the bump means, mainly because I've run into so many before. The bumps mean I'm close to figuring out something big. For years, I was stopped behind one particularly bumpy bump; eventually, I just turned my back on it. Damn thing never left, no matter how long I ignored it. So I turned myself around and started climbing over it. I've handled several since then, some bigger than others. This current bump is a doozy. But it can be traversed. Good thing too, because I know there are plenty more waiting for me up ahead.