(Originally Oct 8 2005)
...and eeeaaaaaaauuuuccccccch.
I'm taking this opportunity to blog from work (like you don't do it! ;p) because I'm still without home access.
Yes, I finally yanked my wires, boxed up more than my books, and am in the middle of moving to NJ.
I thought I'd blog today because it happens to be my birthday.
So let's review--
On my 30th birthday, I watched from the sidelines in Neosho, MO, as the Golden Child of their community was given an auditorium full of praise and celebration from his father, mother, wife, twin girls, in laws, co-pastor, and congregation on the occasion of HIS 30th birthday. I, on the other hand was a student who was forbad from interracial dating while trying to rep for my New York homies.
When it became The Year 2000, on the very night, I was lying on a wall outside the Post Office where I worked overnight, on a break, lamenting the fact that I wasn't in New York celebrating an event that I'd looked forward to ever since I understood what "The Future" meant. I'm also lamenting the absence of flying cars, but as patterns go, I'd have lost mine by now anyway.
Birthdays #31-#38 were starkly avoided as that they earmarked another year of Climbing But Not Arriving. Somewhere in there I entertained a fanatic girlfriend who, because she accepted a date from me felt sure it meant God have destined for us to marry--a notion I was content with until I found her to be a controlling, clingy nutjob who freaked OUT when I broke up with her. My father died somewhere in there too. And so did his sister, with whom I was close.
On my 39th birthday, I was adjusting to having broken up with the one who I would have married and so I fled to New York City for a wild three-night, Holden Caufieldian hotel stay. It was nice. It made me decide that I could live in NY and commute to Trenton for a little while, which I did, hoping that I'd get my NY license before too long. It still hasn't come.
On my 40th birthday, I changed the name of my blog.
Today, I came to work to set my listings in order, have an appointment with a Real Estate client be broken by them no-showing, and end my third week as a Real Estate agent equate to -$435.89 (roughly) profit.
I thought I'd just share that.
On the upside; also today a former therapy client called me by mistake today and so I asked them how things had progressed since we last met. By her accounts it seems that every perception I had in her situation was 100% accurate and she had to make the changes I had suggested she make--although at the time she didn't want to make them. She thanked me, after laughing about how strange it was that she called me accidentally, and validated my efforts to counsel her. That was one of those "Wow, I Really Needed That!" moments in life that gives a true nod to the presence of One Much Bigger Than Me in the universe.
How much worse can my life get by the time my 42nd birthday rolls around? I shudder to think. I probably asked myself the same question last year, and look where THAT got me.
Still and all, I think its bound to get somewhat better. No?
So now I'm going to B&N, buy me some CC cookies from McD's, and read a graphic novel sans euros until the time I must go and move more crap to NJ. Then return to NY because my eviction notice, arriving Wednesday, gave me 6 business days to vacate my premises and Monday is a holiday.
So *nyahh*.
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