Cafe Hitch-hike


Try something different

I just found one interesting band called Khruangbin. It's like Middle Eastern strings meets jam band sensibilities:

I've been enjoying these sounds the past few days. While I was tearing ass with cleaning the Cannabis Condo, their music rolled into my playlist. I finished part 2 of by cleaning the carpets. Otherwise, it is the goal of me and my dog to convince the world that carpet is evil and must be soiled and destroyed.

The quest for mi next casa continues. I have 2 realtors scouting locations. I got to see one place west of where I work in the town of Xanadu. Although the unit was only 7 miles from my work, I had a 35 minute drive in rush hour traffic. I thought I was in Miami again! The people were also some of the most rude and pompous drivers I've encountered. When I was in the left turn lane on a side street turning onto a 4-lane road, some idiot drove to the left of me (and into the lane with oncoming traffic) and tried to make a left turn before me. We actually made the turn at the same time, and I laid on my horn to show Mr. Asshole in a Lexus that his move wasn't cool at all. I'll make a wild guess it wasn't over a matter of life or death but instead, his own entitled attitude. I always knew I hated much of the town of Xanadu, and this little experience only confirmed it.

Casa #2: although it was in Xanadu, it was unbelievably cute, compact, and in an amazing location where I could feel the neighborly love in the air. It offered an interesting mix of elderly Jewish, beach bums, and posh people. I also noticed families in the homes that surrounded the small development and an elementary school a block away. The neighborhood was so close to many things I liked where I could either walk or ride a bike to them! The neighborhood was not cheap at all, but the landlady liked me and told the realtor she'd rent to me right away at a little bit below her listed price. What's there not to like about an unassuming, middle aged librarian who has the Marilyn Monroe of dogs as a companion animal? Landlords have always loved me; librarians are not known to have parties until 4 and tear out walls.

I recently made a humorous wish based on the experience of others I've known around here. They lived in fabulous units owned by well-heeled South Americans who bought the properties so they could have a place to crash when they visited here, and then rented them below the market price just to feel they're getting a little something out of it. While I bumbled on the MLS listings 2 days ago, I found one such unit. It was well below the market price and I couldn't help but wonder what that was about. I asked my second realtor to check it out.

Casita #3: also unbelievably cute, a bit more spacious and private, and in a location that I had no idea existed. Carlos, my other realtor, met me at the unit and it was the closest to love at first sight I've felt in quite some time. He talked to the owner who currently lives there, and she said she wanted to rent it out because she was returning to Colombia to take care of her mother. Bazinga!! Did my wish come true??? She said she was considering selling it, but hasn't made a decision.

The unit had a nice view of a grove of trees and a lake, kind of like the one I now have, and also with a view of sunsets. I walked around the subdivision at night and noticed a security patrol. It was very quiet, and I actually felt really safe. I didn't see a constant whirring of cars and people passing through like I do in my complex. Past the grove and lake was a tree farm and some greenhouses, which I noticed when I later drove around the subdivision. I had no idea that agriculture still existed so close to the fishing villages, but something about that just felt right; maybe it's a throwback to my midwestern roots, hahahah.

I shopped around and got a good sense of what was available in the area and for how much. My head just about spun from seeing some really dumpy units that charged ridiculous rents. One of them hadn't been opened in weeks and smelled so bad that I had a headache for the next 2 hours. I always joked to my mother that we get what we pay for around here. Either we pay an arm and a leg, or rent someplace cheap and live either next to a drug house or a 2-bedroom unit inhabited by 6 obnoxious or messy people.

I also figured it was time for a change of scenery. I've been in the Cannabis Condo for 4 years. I do love my fishing village and its quirks, but... I dunno, I feel like it's time for me to grow up. No-- it's not time, it's more like I just want to. I can appreciate the wabi sabi of things, letting go of materialism, being minimalist, and being able to live and let live, but... it's just time for a little upgrade, that's all. I'm not in my early or mid-20s, I have a semblance of a career and some change in my pocket, so why don't I allow myself to enjoy what I've rightfully earned?

I think my mind is made up for the casita, but if things don't fall through, I've still got Xanadu's version of alternate dimension. I can think of worse options to have right about now.

In other news, I've wrapped up my final project for my online class. I worked really hard on the final project, and I just wanted to. Something in me really felt connected to it even though a lot of the content we had to cover seemed to never have an end. I'm signing up for Part 2 of the course because if I've gotten this far with the work, I want to see it to an advanced state. I sure hope I'm able to do something with all of this than indefinitely sit on it.

Finally, my mentor and I have been discussing some tough stuff. I really didn't realize how much I've pushed people away for so long. He didn't tell me this, it came to me after thinking of my siblings when I returned from seeing my brother during Thanksgiving. I've kind of known I've allowed a shroud of fear to distort a lot of how I view things, but now it's highly visible to me. How do I know? Some of the impressions I had of things turned out to be totally wrong, and all of those impressions had the commonality of being based in fear or expecting the worse case scenario. It was easy for that to creep in as I sought new living quarters. A part of me panicked that I might lose my job, fall really ill, or can't afford to maintain these upgrades. I guess those are possibilities, but not firm or predetermined realities.

It was hard to admit. I've pushed things away, or dismissed the good that did come my way. A lot of the isolation in my life is my own doing. (Then, there were some things that were offered to me that I had very valid reasons to turn down, so I know I wasn't completely delusional about those; when I did that, it wasn't fear-based, but noticing something was seriously not right). It was an emotional session.

I think about all of this because I've been viewing some aspects of my family life a little differently now that Uncle Joe is gone. I don't know if I've said this here, but it's got me thinking about what I want to do for the next half of my life, and what's been going on so far. The first answer is not to continue to live such an alienated life.

My father's death back in 1990 shook me into taking my aspirations more seriously and to move forward with them. I suppose my uncle's death is shaking me into seeing how I've handled my heart this long, and maybe the courage to try something different.

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