Cafe Hitch-hike

2020-02-17

have faith but still do what we gotta do.

There's always an essence that appears whenever I see anyone who I knew from back in the midwest. I invited College John to spend a day and eve so he could get a break from caregiving his elderly parents. We knew each other from when we were earlier versions of ourselves, and yet there's still a cord there. Sometimes CJ can be annoying, but not so much this time. Sometimes friendship is like sitting next to a hearth, and it warms us where we feel chilled. For me, I felt a nice energy. We typically don't talk about the past much, we had a lot of catching up to do. He was supposed to come by last fall, but his schedule, storms, and family matters usually blocked that. Finally, we were able to sit in the warmth of familiarity.

I did ask Rafael if he would be comfortable with this visit, and he said he would be ok with it. I talked about this to CJ, and he said the same thing I told Rafa: if he wanted to know anything, CJ would talkd to Rafa. It was a little awkward, but... I still value the connection CJ and I managed to have over time and distance, and touching base with someone from my roots was so recharging (especially considering that I get very few visitors from there, so when I do, it's absolutely priceless).

It is nice having people stay for a bit. I want people to feel relaxed and comfortable in their visit. I've definitely gotten better than when I gave Ally a blanket my dog liked because I didn't have anything in my place (I think back then, I wrote that they were dried with dog-scented dryer sheets).. CJ (with his 290 lb. frame) was assigned to sleep on the sofa bed; I checked the weight limits on it, and it checked out, so it's good to know the furniture can stay functional for the visitor and after they leave.

One time, he and my mom visited me at the same time. It was kind of funny to see the dance of bathroom sharing and taking turns talking to each other over coffee while someone took a shower. It only lasted 2 days, but it was still funny because I had a 1 bed, 1 bath apartment. Neither of them seemed to mind, and they got along fine.

After CJ left, I felt recharged enough to knock the hell out of that second bedroom. I finally painted the closet, arranged stuff into it, and now have space for... the futon? Yeah, I envision getting a wood-frame, full-sized futon to put in. I even worked on getting the second bathroom primed and mostly painted.

Well, well, I began the relabeling of my work e-mail boilerplate, some web pages, and other details that had my former position. Although I made these changes today, I accepted the job on February 4, so I doubt Mercury Retrograde will do anything weird to this one (hahahah). I felt a bit shaken when I made the change in the staff directory, and then it felt very final.

I sure hope this goes well. Something tells me it will, and I can already see where I'm going to have to be a smooth talker but at the same time, know the hell what I'm talking about and then some. I just hope I get good back-up. I can pitch, sell, and persuade, but if others in the building cannot deliver when (I will not be doing the actual work, but facilitating interactions between my building and other units outside of it), all I can say is I tried. The same structure is in place as when Lily did it; she did complain that she got poor follow-through from people (but a bit better than what I usually got because she had some big guns behind her whereas I only had a stick).

It's a beautiful evening with a cloudless night. I could not miss it, so now I sit on my patio and decided to cut corners for dinner and enjoy a Lean Cuisine. As much as I love to cook, it takes a long time to prepare and then clean, so I took some shortcuts. I also enjoy a chilled prosecco. I've been a diet since the beginning of the year, so anytime I have an alcoholic beverage, it tastes divine.

I sit here quietly, and the thought of being thankful feels more true than it ever did, despite whatever that beehive of thoughts in my head try to tell me. I say 'thanks' to my uncle for helping me make this home possible, 'thanks' to my efforts because this place feels more and more like my own and looks like it belongs to me. I say 'thanks' more and more to my home and its simplicity and yet safety... I say 'thanks' (kind of) that I survived damn Xanadu Tech, and I say 'thanks' when I do have damn energy (hey, I'm gonna be 47 this summer, and I really didn't realize how amped I tend to be, but I pretty much had to be if I wanted to accomplish what I set out to do, so maybe my energy level is getting closer to that of someone my age). I say 'thanks' to have Rafa back; I don't think I wrote about it here, but something sprouted to life when he came here.

There's enough things happening to make a person angry. I've felt enough hardships in the past and near present, and I realize that whenever I think of them, I think the same thing and it's rarely anything ever different. There's plenty to make me cry, and there's plenty be discontent over. I do remember after a certain point when I moved to this state that I found myself thinking less about home, I remember feeling uptight less (although there's still plenty of that to go around), and feeling more possibility than I ever felt back up north.

With that, I'm tired thanks to changes (job, body, family), it beats the hell out of me what the economy will do, I have no clue if Xanadu Tech or my building (or country from that matter) will be driven off a cliff, don't know if my little place will hold its value, or what. There's so many 'I don't knows' that I don't even feel like trying to go beyond what I can do and what I know here and now.

I'll think about what I can, when I can. I'll press myself to do more or go further when it's necessary, but I know I can't let myself think too hard over scenarios that may or never happen. I'll just let the unknowns co-exist with being grateful because that's all I can do at this point. I suppose I can toss in the reliance on the humbling faith that my Mexican-American mother and grandfather leaned on. I always thought we had to do what we could and to not just go by faith (which they often did), but now I'm seeing that faith is what keeps the pistons oiled, or else things feel dry. My deal: do both. Take the annoyances with where we can be grateful, and... have faith but still do what we gotta do.

downwind | upstream