Home sweet

photo by Allison Brady

After searching for multiple ways to procrastinate from today's work, it's finally come to this. And I have been so successful in procrastinating from writing this blog!

At the end of the week we will be moving and somehow (miraculously) things seem under control. We may even eschew U-Haul and opt for using our own truck and our own muscles for labor. The BF and I are coming up with a series of safewords to insure we don't waste valuable time as every one knows moving can be so...stress free. I suggested the word trumpet, as it's in at least five different jokes I know, but he thought let's calm down could work just as well.

The only thing I am dreading is the final inspection and the cleaning of the house. Despite my captivating charm and overall cleanliness, the once blonde carpet is now more of a deep brunette. I seem to be missing at least one blind from an otherwise perfect Venetian. And those holes in the wall where I once tried to install an Ikea metal shelf, were, um, already there? I've heard rumor that these landlords are picky. They even offer a pre-inspection, a free service to all vacating tenants which, to my ears, sounds more like finding out if I have the breast cancer gene. I mean, do I really want to know how much money I am loosing?

Wait, I have an answer for that one. I do not.

But it seems like we don't have much of a choice. The neighbors have all been really friendly now that they know we are moving out. I've never had so many mailbox-conversations and it's not like we have a storage space that will be up for lottery. Perhaps it's the thought that we could be moving on to better things that brings out the nervous, chatty energy in folk. Or perhaps they are excited about the prospect of digging through all the crap we'll be getting rid of. Or maybe they just know something that we don't: like the fact that we were all really nice, albeit lonely people, looking for a point of entry to forge real relationships all along. That we move in a coupla days means we'll never know!

But I do know this. It has been a real treat to live here, and even though there is no decent sushi to be had anywhere on the island, nor a real market within walking distance, nor any rack from which to purchase Sunday's NYT, I will remember this time fondly. When you start feeling sentimental about the crazy shouting lady across the hall and her over-protective grizzly man-mate, when you reminisce about the teenagers who repeatedly scald the milk and char the coffee at your local coffee shop every morning, when you begin to wonder what will happen in your absence to the Little Caesars sign twirler and his teenage girlfriend who sits on the corner with him all day with their new baby in tow, then you know that you have truly embraced a place as home.

There Is No Rewind Button for Life

A Nam June Paik image I found on the Internet to illustrate my point

That is the title for a life-retrospective book about one of my favorite pioneering video artists, Nam June Paik, who died only a couple years ago. What I liked about his work was that it was conceptual and simple, playful and direct. And when I saw that book in the Berkeley Art Museum bookstore, I told myself, Casey, remember that title. It will be useful to you one day. That day has not yet come upon us, but I am nonetheless hanging on to the phrase like some kind of good-luck-charm-for-tomorrow. As far as catch phrases go, I find that one to be pretty delightful. It rolls off the tongue rather nicely. It provides an easy-to-grasp visual. And when I am driving around in my truck looking for parking or when I am forced to watch Hardball on MSNBC by my politically impassioned boyfriend, it a useful phrase to shout out to all the asinine pundits or the meter maid who has just left behind a ticket.

It is also a nice reminder to get off my ass and do whatever it is I want to do with my life. Like now. And, from time to time, even I could use those kind of gentle reminders. So even though there was little of inspiration in the museum that day, and even though two floors were closed for installation and renovation, and even though when I first stepped into the bookstore my eyes instantly glazed over with the amount of, well, books, on the shelves, there was one book that stood out among many, and without even opening up its pages, I got every dose of medicine that I needed for the moment.

It really is that simple.

Leaving the island

Robert Frank, Sick of Goodby’s via That's A Negative

The rumors are true. We are pulling up the stakes, hitching up the trailer and packing it in. Or any other cliche you can use to describe the phenomena otherwise known as moving. It's been a good run over here on the island and it seemed rather eerie timing that our local neighborhood cinema closed it's doors only days ago. That it might have had more to do with the gargantuan cineplex opening it's doors down the street, does not deter me from coming to the conclusion that it is the end of an era...albeit a rather short one only spanning about 23 months.

It's not that the quaintness wore on us, or that the endless beach access became, well, tiring, or even that our mere residence next to a park with lots of trees, plants and well-tended lawns had a kind of relentlessly upbeat positivity that didn't always jibe with our cynicalness. We could pretty much deal with all that. No, it's more the fact that we are lazy and needed more space and that the easiest thing to do was to simply take over our friends' lease when they themselves skipped outta town.

Not that there are things we won't miss. Like the sounds of the local baseball team cheering us on as we come home from work, or the sight of children haphazardly jumping off of swings or the smell of the nothing-but-barbecue summers. And it's not like there aren't plenty of things that we will be gritting our teeth over as we tip toe back to the ghetto, like, oh, people shitting on our front porches or car horns blaring at 6 in the morning, or the overall lack of fresh fruit and produce available at the corner liquor store. But hell, more than anything right now I could use a little more space. And I think all of us, family dog included, would benefit from a change of scenery.

Well, we had a nice run. When I first settled on the island, it was just me, some boxes and a couch on its last legs. Now, not only have I collected much more hand-me-down furniture, I have also accumulated a dog and a boyfriend (in that order, at least, chronologically speaking.) One day when I grow up, I would like to move back to the island as it seems like it is hospitable to young children and a nice place to spread out when you decide it's time to let yourself go.

Until then, we will miss you.