Moody Meow

Liberal, lunatic lassie, with mood swings and foot-in-mouth syndrome

Hello, my name is Erica

Posted on | April 8, 2009 | No Comments

Yes, I know I’ve written only several times in the past month. Part of this is due to the lack of anything really substantive to talk about. Who wants to hear me whine about not having a full time job? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

What I can tell you in positive land, is that Spring has arrive in Portland. I have a massive cherry tree in my backyard with beautiful pink blossoms. It really is a sight to behold. And I had to mow for the first time since we moved. We left our old gas-powered mower at the house on 33rd, but brought my push mower. We have a good sized yard so it took me an hour or so. It looks great, and I smelled like fresh cut grass and sweat. That’s what Spring is all about. I have yet to tackle the mass of blackberry brambles in the area near the potting shed. Seriously, how do I get rid of those things without killing everything else? I guess time will tell.

Cherry Blossoms

But I am plagued by dandelions. Bastards.

I did cut my hair off again. It’s a cute, kind of deconstructed cut that highlights my curls while taking the length off the back of my neck. She took almost 2 hours to cut it, paying attention to how the curls formed and where the bulk was. I love love love this cut. I like my hair long, but it almost felt too “mother earth” or old ladyish. This way I can be all spikey and sassy and fun. Yes, I just wrote a whole paragraph about my hair. There’s some girly left in me.

I went to Tacoma last week to help out my sister. Although she’s still in her 20′s, she developed a hernia. My mother also flew up from Colorado because the day before the surgery was her birthday and my nephew was home all week for Spring Break. There was also my niece at home who is 4, and too young for school just yet. The surgery went well. I have a lovely picture of my sister post-op, stoned out of her gourd. And all was well until a phonecall from my uncle.

Let me walk around the issue to remind people that when I don’t get sleep, I’m very reactionary and illogical. I also do not get along particularly well with this uncle. He’s only 10 years older than me so there is tension from his childhood where he blamed me for my mother leaving him. He’s also the one who has had the most problems in our family with substance abuse and mental illness. But I digress. He just says shit sometimes. So he called my sister’s phone, wanting to make sure she was okay but my BIL answered. My BIL and uncle have never met. The uncle goes on this diatribe about how my sister is his favorite and how he doesn’t particularly care for me because we are too similar or some such bullshit. My mother walked in the door about 10 minutes later from a day of shopping and I called her brother and asshole. Fight ensues. 10 minutes later I’m on I5 heading south, back to Portland and to home. I haven’t spoken to my mother since. What I do realize is that when I am denied sleep, either because the kids are up early, or my mother is walking around the house talking on the phone and letting the back door slam, or because I was getting up to make sure my sister was getting her meds or just freaking alive, things can go wrong. But after talking to David about the whole thing, I don’t regret ending the trip early.

I’m used to telling people that my mother and I are close. It falls off my tongue as easily as my name. And we are close, at a distance. Proximity is not good for the two of us. I don’t think she’s the least bit interested in what I do as a writer, which is fine, I guess. I try to keep up with her busy social and political life. I listen when she talks about the issues with town and her newest projects. But when I talk about my novel, or David’s art projects, her eyes kind of glaze over. For the first time in my life I came to understand how unimportant my writing is to her, and for some reason, that was a physical blow. It feels like she doesn’t really listen to me. So my leaving Tacoma was spurred by the argument, but it was easier to leave for other reasons. Beyond political leanings, we have little in common. And there are some deeper revelations I’ve come to, but this is a public blog and I think that’s enough. Suffice to say, I will graduate in June, and the people who understand what a struggle this has been for me will be proud. My mother will probably also be proud, but because I completed my Master’s, not because I completed my first novel.

On lighter notes, I love Avatar the Last Airbender. We rented the DVDs from Nextflix years ago but kept getting scratched disks. I eventually gave up. But iTunes had the entire first season available, so I downloaded it.

Then the tantrum ensued.

It looked awful. Every time the characters moved there seemed to be artifacting, turning solid lines into some fuzzy mess. I wanted to be okay with it. I do love the series, but not enough to watch it like that. After spending 2 days trying to find the e-mail to contact them, I finally dug up the information. Now, I know Apple wants people to figure out how to do things on their own, but jesushfuckingchrist, make it a little easier to contact customer service please. But once the issue was e-mailed, they refunded my money immediately. We are also using Netflix again, because renting movies from them is much cheaper, and I get to rent entire shows like Weeds and Mad Men. Plus it streams through the Xbox. We watched 88 Minutes last night, and the quality of the stream was great. The movie sucked though.

Our house on 33rd officially belongs to the bank now. We left our Weber grill in the garage and kept meaning to go back and get it. David noticed, while riding by on his bike, the locks had been changed on the garage. On top of that, there are notices on all the windows that the city will convict for trespassing. The house looks like shit, really. The broken tiles on the porch are stacked up (a tripping hazard) and the windows are all foggy and dusty. I almost feel bad for our former landlady – she’s taking a loss on the place, but she really did fuck us by not paying her mortgage. Moral of the story – I don’t feel THAT bad.

The progress on the novel is going well. I still feel like I have too many things to do and not enough time. That’s how life is though, isn’t it? Speaking of my novel…….

Category: Everyday
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