The last two weeks have been bedlam. A debacle. Maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration, but certainly in the macrocosm it has been as far as the changes in the country I live in and the area.
We had an abrupt employment change (not me) and were not sure if we would keep the roof over our heads. We scrambled and we are. However, this means I’ll be once again haunting the house as Roy is off doing a rotation across the country.
But you know what. I’ll figure it out.
We were talking about digging our heels in and not moving if we can avoid it. The only way I would move is to be just a little closer to a major city or if we absolutely have to. I’m exhausted. Relocating every few years since 2008 has been exhausting.
I’ve always had a weird love/hate with being in a city. I grew up in south western Pennsylvania, and Pittsburgh seemed less city-like as it was nestled into mountains and you could stumble into parks and green spaces so my time living there didn’t feel so city, even though most of my friends lived in the same neighborhood and I just walked to their places or I took the bus down town for work or the train (I loved riding the T).
I want what a city offers without the city. Music. Art. International food is a bonus. This has been the longest stretch of time I wasn’t in or near enough to several cities to scratch my culture itch.
Atlanta… Atlanta was a beast. My five years there was terrible and wonderful and I miss it but I think I would punch someone if I had to live metro again, though East Atlanta was okay. But sometimes I think about going back. It had everything that made me happy. Except the museums but I guess if you grow up near the Carnegie, that just kind of happens. The bar is high.
Some highlights as I look back on that time:
Finding the SCA and becoming determined I was going to learn to fence. I did okay, but my leg was even more messed up than it is now and I struggled. It was very soon after my violence-related trauma and it turns out that when someone was actually coming at me with a sword, I didn’t handle it well.
Living in East Atlanta. Walking to concerts all the time and wandering home in the middle of the night. Ill advised. My roommate, Patrick taking me on his motorcycle to the Midway Pub for vegan corndogs. (I miss Patrick. Living with Patrick was a blast and I sometimes think I should not have moved out and should have stayed with him, as things went a bit downhill after. Though there was still some good. Patrick remember when I came back and stayed when I was working on that puppet holiday short and you were like “please come back” well I should have, even though I would have moved in with Roy eventually. Patrick, you and Chrisco were the best – but also my heart will always remember David, Sharon and Ashley too)
Living in a house full of musicians when I first moved there.
All the puppetry, music and film I participated in. I was basically a roadie for almost six years and I never learned to roll up cable properly.
I never learned that I needed to put my boots on BEFORE my corset when dressing for performances.
I miss DragonCon.
I miss all the movies. I loved seeing SHIELD vehicles parked around. Or the time I was in traffic and Captain America was stopped beside me on a vintage WWII motorcycle and full gear. Was it a stunt man? Was it a cosplayer? Who knows. But we saluted at each other.
The time I took myself to see Cirque du Soleil three times.
Sweet Hut. Oh god, Sweet Hut. Please give unto me tofu sandwiches and savory bread and caterpillar pastries.
And while we are at it LA FONDA. Both locations.
Getting my ears pierced and crying because it hurt so much (this was when I was just discovering that the pain I feel is NOT the normal of level of pain everyone feels and thus the journey on figuring out my autoimmune disorder. The piercing artist was very kind.) Wandering down the street after to Flying Biscuit to eat garlic green beans and mac n cheese.
The Ghastly Dreadfuls at the Center for Puppetry Arts.
The haunted shed in the back of Patrick’s house. Fuck that shed. I hated it.
Conversely, The tree swing in Patrick’s yard. This, I was fond of and was on it constantly.
When we would lay out in the yard and night and watch the owls. We may or may not have been blissfully stoned.
The time our other roommate came home from working as a PA and said “Hey, the location scout for some show is going to come look at our place for exteriors. Is that okay?” We said “Yeah, sure.” We didn’t get chosen, but next summer we found out it was for Stranger Things.
Most of my friends being in Marvel, Walking Dead, or Stranger Things activities, then making indie movies on weekends.
My time in the Weather Channel mail room. God I loved that gig. I covered reception for an hour every day.
Playing gigs in Heaven and Hell.
When they shut down the street in front of my print shop job for a film. There was going to be explosions. We had to get there early so they could let us through. I got there at 5am, but the owner wasn’t there yet so I sat on the sidewalk and the special effects team chatted with me about what would happen and answered all my questions. They were very nice.
Hating the FUCKING PERIMETER. WHY. WHO DESIGNED THAT.
Bar trivia nights with Teddy Bash. We scored a perfect game once because I was able to answer “What is the requirement for masseuses in feudal Japan?”
“They are blind. Because of Zatoichi.”
“What’s Zaotichi?”
“The Blind Fucking Swordsman, what you we raised in a goddamn barn?”
Walking downstairs once into a clothing optional party on the main floor of one of the places I rented a room. A dude telling me that “Dating is his hobby, would I like to be on the list?” and I was just trying to get a fucking apple out of the cupboard lord save me from the hippies. (Sparkle Pony Express was good though, you guys were good hippies ha)
The time I got the flu and was so sick I passed out in the hallway and Chrisco put me in bed.
When we got fireworks and set them off in the cul-de-sac and pretended to be wizards, and everyone wanted to play with puppets.
When I saw the Electric Six and started chatting with the guitar player after when we were waiting for drinks at the bar. I asked, “How do you get over your stage fright? I’ve been in ensemble groups, but now I’m in a small band and I’m kind of scared.” He told me: “Just push yourself a little bit more to be weird every time and eventually, you are outside your own box.”
Going to see Teddy Bash play in the symphony.
Puddles Pity Party.
Feeling so alive and creative, even when I was in a very bad situation.
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