We're moving, the weekend of the 19th.
I won't bore you with the horrendous details of packing, cleaning, and tying up lose ends, and by the end of this post, I'll try to come up with something worth reading about.
Before this almost sudden move, and before our move to here, and before I was a mother, I, like most mothers, was a completely different person. I liked to party, I liked to meet people, I liked to drink, and I liked to participate in various activities that always ended in some sort of awkwardness.
Mostly, I liked music. I loved going to concerts, I loved writing music, and I loved sitting alone with my guitar and a bottle what ever "cooler" was readily available at the time. What can I say? I was a hard core drunk. Fruity beverages all the way.
I started "dating" when I was 15, and by "dating" I mean that I started having boyfriends. I loved boys. If I were to add together all the days in which I was single between then and now, I might have been single for half a year, maybe a little more. It's not something I'm proud of, and though I don't have many regrets, if I could do it all again, I probably would have spent a little more time being single, and a lot more time actually dating, by which I mean getting to know someone and proceed to go out on dates. That's something I feel I never really did.
Having a baby is one of many life changing events in which you will find out who your friends really are, who your acquaintances are, and who you, yourself, may have been using. Getting married is another one of those milestones. People stop talking to you, and you start to put distance between yourself and certain people, mostly those who tend to get you into trouble.
I've lost, and made a lot of friends over the last few years, and now, with this move I'm leaving most of them behind. It makes me sad, because I'll miss them, but I'm glad that we're getting the chance to start over, from scratch, and hopefully build a better life, and a home, so that when my real friends come to visit, I'll have something worth showing off... and worth the 4 hour drive.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Up Coming Count Down Warning.
It's unofficial, but there is a vague countdown forming in my head, and I'm surprisingly excited about it. I find myself anxious, and relieved that our move is inching closer, and I honestly can not wait to be done with it.
What prompted this new found certainty in this move? Yesterday there was what some have called a "barbecue" in front of my current residence. It was actually a street party which started some time mid-afternoon, for the sake of the story, lets say around three p.m.
Something just occurred to me, I can't remember what "p.m." means other than "afternoon". Let me google it...
Excellent. According to dictionary.com, "P.M." stands for post meridiem, Latin for after noon. Post meaning after, meridiem representing midday.
Where was I? Oh yes, this "barbecue" lasted approximately 12 hours, finally leaving the community in near silence around three a.m. (ante meridiem, ante meaning before, and well, you know the rest).
I'm all for a good party, I really am. But I live on the 3rd floor of my building, and my washroom does not share an outside wall. Upon showering, I had the luxury of being serenaded by non-stop tunes, mostly rap that you would hear on whatever your local pop-music station is. Not only did I get to listen to such choice music over the sound of running water, but the music was being blasted from someones not-so-great but far-too-powerful car speaker system. Let's not forget that the bass is a full volume, and that my walls are literally vibrating in time with the music.
This combined with the constant ringing of a phone that I could have sworn was glued outside my 3rd story window, the sounds of 10-year-old children yelling "fuck you" to one another, and the wonderful smell of low-quality marijuana filling my apartment, left me a little less than impressed.
But even though the 30 people outside managed to sound like 200 people, I was patient, and kept my thoughts to myself, despite not being able to put my daughter down for a nap.
Where I'm losing my patients is with the mess they left outside. There is so much garbage outside you'd think that the city workers were still on strike. There are paper plates and napkins everywhere. The saddest part is, building management just finally took the initiative to clean up the outside of the building, and it actually looked quite nice before these people felt the need to destroy it all.
The moral of the story? I don't remember, but all the litter, and noise pollution, have just made it so much easier to pack up and leave it all behind. So be warned. I'm definitely leaving, and will being doing so as soon as possible.
What prompted this new found certainty in this move? Yesterday there was what some have called a "barbecue" in front of my current residence. It was actually a street party which started some time mid-afternoon, for the sake of the story, lets say around three p.m.
Something just occurred to me, I can't remember what "p.m." means other than "afternoon". Let me google it...
Excellent. According to dictionary.com, "P.M." stands for post meridiem, Latin for after noon. Post meaning after, meridiem representing midday.
Where was I? Oh yes, this "barbecue" lasted approximately 12 hours, finally leaving the community in near silence around three a.m. (ante meridiem, ante meaning before, and well, you know the rest).
I'm all for a good party, I really am. But I live on the 3rd floor of my building, and my washroom does not share an outside wall. Upon showering, I had the luxury of being serenaded by non-stop tunes, mostly rap that you would hear on whatever your local pop-music station is. Not only did I get to listen to such choice music over the sound of running water, but the music was being blasted from someones not-so-great but far-too-powerful car speaker system. Let's not forget that the bass is a full volume, and that my walls are literally vibrating in time with the music.
This combined with the constant ringing of a phone that I could have sworn was glued outside my 3rd story window, the sounds of 10-year-old children yelling "fuck you" to one another, and the wonderful smell of low-quality marijuana filling my apartment, left me a little less than impressed.
But even though the 30 people outside managed to sound like 200 people, I was patient, and kept my thoughts to myself, despite not being able to put my daughter down for a nap.
Where I'm losing my patients is with the mess they left outside. There is so much garbage outside you'd think that the city workers were still on strike. There are paper plates and napkins everywhere. The saddest part is, building management just finally took the initiative to clean up the outside of the building, and it actually looked quite nice before these people felt the need to destroy it all.
The moral of the story? I don't remember, but all the litter, and noise pollution, have just made it so much easier to pack up and leave it all behind. So be warned. I'm definitely leaving, and will being doing so as soon as possible.
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