The Bum On My Balcony

 Two nights ago it was NOT unseasonably warm, as it has been all winter.  After a 16 hour work day, I arrived home around 11:15 and changed into a torn blue t-shirt, my over-sized red sweatpants, *black tube socks, a black hoodie underneath the puffiest winter jacket I own and placed a wool cap upon my crown [pause...inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...groovin'] before making myself a hot bowl of chicken flavored Ramen noodles which were overcooked, not my preferred al dente [note to self, maybe it IS time to start working on the Creative Guide to Cooking With Ramen Noodles I've been meaning to write], then headed out onto my balcony to enjoy some fresh air and a "meal".  There really is something wrong with the world when a person works 16 hours and can still only afford to eat this way.  I sat there, looking like a pile of dirty laundry and I thought to myself, "Well there's one less thing to miss about NYC, the only difference now is that the bum on my front porch is me."  I slurped up my last squiggly noodle and headed inside for a quick doodle -- check that unintentional rhyme! -- before resting a recharging for another day.

The Bedtime Doodle

 *Don't judge.

Out of Balance.

Does everyone question whether they’re in the “right” place or doing the “right” thing?  Like, has Beyonce ever thought, “Man, if only I’d signed up with that temp agency after Destiny’s Child broke up, I could be HR Manager for a small law firm in Seattle doing normal people things like conceiving and giving birth to a biological child instead of closing down an entire maternity ward so that my black market baby could be snuck in the back door and placed in my arms just after my stylist has given me a sensible, matronly curl and applied some ‘beads of sweat’ to my face from within a spray bottle because I had my sweat glands removed when I was 22!” …?

I took the Chinatown to New York this week.  What a terrible way to travel.  The itinerary was specific and brief -- arrive in Chinatown at 6:30 AM on Tuesday morning, snag a couple hours of sleep, then pack up as many of my things from my old apartment as possible before heading out to see friends for the night, then shove my items into another friends SUV and head south to arrive home by 8:00 PM on Wednesday.  Everything went according to plan.  I even came in under budget; take that, Devil on my shoulder!

But now, here I am, asking myself whether I’m in the “right place” or have a made a terrible mistake?  The scales are out of balance, now it's up to me to set them straight.  I'll start by eating this egg salad sandwich.

"I have no memories."

“Each morning when I awake I experience again a supreme pleasure -- that of being Salvador Dali.”  --Salvador Dali

I think we’re probably alike, you all and me.  What I mean to say is that if you are like me, you probably think in your mind a lot.  That’s normal; its what your mind is for.  One way in which we may differ is that my “thinks” [thank you, Dr. Seuss] are incredibly fleeting.  With nostalgic friends or when meeting strangers I’ve taken to sharing this clear and concise disclaimer: “I have no memories”.  This is an obvious exaggeration, but the statement is certainly grounded by more than a few ounces of truth.  I have a terrible time remembering names, and don’t you dare ask me to tell you what I did two days ago.  I just forget things.  When I was in the second grade I recall sitting at the dinner table with my family and being brought to tears with embarrassment because I could not, for the life of me, remember my teacher’s name.  I had been in her class for three months.  My parents would drill me, asking the same question over and over again and the more I tried to dig through the small, yet challenging catalogue of information my seven year old mind had received to date, the more lost I would become.  What can I say?  I’m completely simple minded, but my simplicity also affords me the ability to zoom my mind-lens way out and take an objective point of view, regardless of my own opinion.  From there I’m able to get intricate again, but on a more esoteric or philosophical level.  I’m an Aquarius through and through.  Yes, I know, Astrology has questionable merit, but...I’m an Aquarius...so, shut up.

Anyway, all of that is just to say that I often think to myself, “Hey, write that down,”  because it will alleviate the stress of having to remember things, while simultaneously creating a tool for me to reference.  So now it begins, with “A New Chapter,” or “Me Moving [Back] to A [My] New City [College Town] Last October.”  Which is exactly what happened, and it happened like this, abridged:

I went to the beach with my friends and got drunk and...things.  Poor Unfortunate Souls and whiskey for 7 days.  Then I decided that after 7 days in the open air and 6 years in “the city” it was time for a change.  I wanted space and sunlight and to spend less money.  I also wanted to challenge myself to reawaken my creativity.  My simple mind allows me to do this kind of thing with confidence; to make major changes.  I’m not overly concerned with the outcome of my decisions because I contemplate and plan, loosely, prior to the action.  Dig it?  I’ll be honest and admit that every 4th or 5th day since the move I have questioned my decision, but since I have a simple mind I remain content and continue to push toward full integration with my new lifestyle and surroundings.  I just miss the frenzy and the broad selection of attractive men in my old city.  

So, I packed a suitcase with as many pieces of clothing as would fit (including my blond wig, skinny jeans, purple faux-leather jacket and 5” salmon platform pumps -- you never know), grabbed a pillow and took the Chinatown south for the future.  Things have happened since then -- some great things and some incredibly challenging things -- and each day I have enjoyed the supreme pleasure of it all.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, her name was Mrs. Kilpatrick and she once made me erase my spelling test and start over because my friend Charles and I had decided to race to the finish.  Take that, memory handicap!