The Waiting is the Hardest Part

Driving back to Spokane from Seattle is always difficult for me. Interstate Ninety goes across Washington (and all the way to Boston, for that matter), but to get to that freeway I have to drive on the Five South (which stretches from Canada to Mexico) for a few miles. This time was the hardest: a full tank of gas, a good eight hours before I would be missed, enough clothes to get by for a while.

In my head, I know that Seattle is not much closer to LA than Spokane is - only about a hundred and fifty mile difference, since from Spokane one cuts through the middle of Oregon. Pythagorean theorem at work, there. But being on that road, it seems so much closer, so much more possible. Yesterday I cried as, at the last second, I took the exit for I-Ninety. Twice I nearly turned around and went back, ran south.

But I know that I can not go back, not yet. I have school starting soon. I have a job. But two years is so long to wait to be back. So much can happen in that time, and I am so afraid that I will never be able to return. I constantly fear that I am losing my friendships, that I will end up alone.

I am still angry that I was forced to come here. I am still lonely and hurting. I do not know if I will heal from it, because it hurts, awfully. I do not know if I want the pain to lessen, if I want to be comfortable and happy here. I want to go back; I do not want to become complacent here, stuck here forever. I am so scared of that.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Why Do I Not Write More?

That is a very good question. I do not know. But I am writing now, and that is what matters, right?

I quit my job at ICT/Sprint on Friday. It was a wonderful day. I had originally planned to work my Friday shift (six to two). Then on Thursday I decided I would leave at ten (lunchtime). Then Thursday evening I decided I just needed to quit. So I went in at six on Friday and did just that. I had given them about a week-and-a-half notice, so it was all right. It would have been all right even if I had not given notice, as it was an at-will position.

I am working for Albertsons now, in the service deli. I am at the south hill location (on thirty-seventh and Grand, if you wanted particulars. or even if you did not.) which is a bit of a commute. Also it does not pay as much, and I will probably not have as many hours, but these things are worth being done with Sprint forever. I had my "training-which-is-really-an-introduction-to-the-company" day on Saturday, and I have my "training-which-is-really-listening-to-a-computer-tell-me-how-to-be-safe-with-meat-cutters" day tomorrow. And then my first shift is on Wednesday. I am optimistic about this job. I will no longer be sitting at a computer for eight hours a day, which will be nice. I will be moving around, with a variety of tasks. And while it is still sales to some degree (though with much more customer service mixed in there), at least it will be a product I believe in. After all - people need food more than they need cell phones. And Albertsons has long been my favorite store; I especially loved it through college.

So yes. Excitement, there. I had hoped that I would be able to take the bus and thus save on travel expenses, but I will be working evenings and it would be too much of a hassle to get back after my shift ends - over an hour and a half (whereas driving takes about thirty minutes), on three different buses, one of which (ninety) is fairly sketchy after dark. Oh well, though.

I hope that I am still happy about the job after this week is over.
I also hope that I get awarded work study so that I can get a job at the campus library through the next two years. (Can you believe I actually miss working in a library? I find it difficult to do so, but perhaps you would have anticipated it.)

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Driving, Part Two

Remember when I said that drivers from here would not survive in California? Well, I have realized lately that this probably goes both ways, at least at this time of year. Driving in the winter is difficult, and, amazingly, people around here seem to become better drivers in inclement weather. (Whereas in California people freeze up when it starts raining.) For one thing, lines on the roads denoting lanes become meaningless in heavy snow. A road that is, in the summertime, two lanes each way with a center-turn lane becomes a road with one lane each way. Through the tire tracks, you can sometimes see a white dotted line, or a yellow line. But you simply have to follow along where the newly defined lane is. Sometimes this road will turn back into two lanes, only to have the right lane end abruptly in a bank left by the latest snow plow. You need to be on your toes to drive, around here.

Side roads are awful during the winter. They get plowed, but last. By the time they are plowed, the snow has often already been compacted quite a bit. I am not really certain how it happens, but after the plow comes through, the road ends up getting very bumpy. A combination of factors, I suppose, including traffic, plow, and weather. But driving on this type of road is tricky. The best way to do it is to not try to steer at all - idle along, not really even holding the wheel. Oh, of course, you have to have a hand on it, in case of emergency, but you can not do too much in the way of steering anyway. It is somewhat fun, once you get the hang of it. But I would be willing to bet that most Southern Californians would rather walk than try to navigate our roads right now.

In other news, gas is down to about one forty-five.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

{Insert Witty Title Here}

I wandered around Wal-Mart for about an hour tonight. I needed to get out of the house, and everything in town was closed, except for Denny's and Wal-Mart. And it is cheaper to wander Wal-Mart than sit around at Denny's. And more distracting, which was good.

On the front of the store, the lights in the 'M' were out, so it said Wal-art. This amused me.

They already have a giant Christmas decoration section. This makes me sad. I do not like the over commercialization of Christmas, nor do I like how overlooked Thanksgiving is. Thanksgiving was always my favourite holiday growing up. Mostly because I like autumn, but also because gatherings tended to not be as big then as at Christmas and Easter. I am an introvert, and my parents never allowed me to be reclusive when family was over. Santa was in the mall, today. I think the commercialization has made me cynical about Christmas, which I also do not like.

The craft section of Wal-Mart is my favourite. I do not particularly like crafting (I have boxes filled with projects begun and never finished), but I love craft supplies. Especially paper. Paper fascinates me, as does cloth. So much beauty (for only a small price). I also like parenthesis (and those are free).

I bought a pack of Mike-n-Ikes (Mike & Ikes?). I was interested by the man at the checkstand. I think his name was James. It started with a 'J,' anyway. He was an older gentleman, and seemed nice. He had a fairly thick country accent (different from, though similar to, a southern accent), quite the drawl. The type of accent that makes people think that a person is uneducated - a silly assumption, in my opinion, but a common one nonetheless. I wondered if James was happy with his life. Is he content to work the night-shift at the checkstand in Wal-Mart? How would I feel, in that position? I think that there was probably a point in my life where I could have taken that route, and have been perfectly happy. I am not sure when, though. I could not do it, now, and be happy. I think too much, now. I wonder if James is happy. The world needs those people. If the world were only full of philosophers, we would never be able to get anything done. What separates me from James? Is it just an education (assuming a lack of one on his part. actually, I am using him as a symbol now, less as a person. forgive me, James. I wish I knew your story.)? Or is there something inherent in a person that sets them apart for their particular path in life?

It is cold here. I had frost on my car this morning, it had to warm up about fifteen minutes before the windows were clear enough to drive. I need to remember that on Thursday night, and plan accordingly for the morning - I start work at five.forty-five on Friday. I am nervous about that - my first experience in retail is opening on the day after Thanksgiving. I am sure I will get trampled, small as I am. Perhaps I will wear heels, give myself a couple of extra inches.

I went to the grocery store with my mom tonight after dinner. The checker there was nice, as well. Mom thinks it was because of me. She says they are never that friendly when it is just her. I wonder if he was flirting. I wonder if I flirted back. I never can tell (Emily:flirting :: Winnie-Ther-Pooh:bees). Harmless, I suppose, when it is a person I will likely never see again. But what happens when I inadvertently flirt with a new acquaintence? What if it is mutual flirting and I do not even realize it? I certainly do not have time or emotional energy for something like that. Goodness, I do not even have emotional energy to worry about something like that. My mom bought me a pomegranite at the store, which was lovely.

My mind is random, and I am essentially typing my train of thought right now. I find it vastly amusing. Usually I think things through before typing, and go back and edit. But not tonight. Tonight you get something that is somewhat akin to what you would get if I handwrote you a letter. Or what you have gotten if I have done so. A glimpse of the workings of my mind, I suppose.

I am tired, but not sleepy. I have been having trouble sleeping lately. I am stressed about several things which I will not detail here. Perhaps I should go to bed. I have been reading a lot - rereading good fiction books, always fun. I am cold. Autumn is gone, now. The leaves are off the trees and it is frosting at night (but I already mentioned that, I suppose). I miss warmth. Not really, but in my mind I do. I do love winter, but to make the jump rather than easing into it does make a difference. I have a space-heater in my room, though, which helps quite a bit. I have also been playing a lot of solitaire - a good mind-numbing activity. I miss California.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Gas for $1.88? Yespleasethankyou.

Last night Stacey asked me what the most positive thing about being in Washington is. Besides the fact that here my world is not being consumed by fire, the lower gas prices are a wonderful thing. One eighty-eight is the lowest that I have seen, it ranges between that and one ninety-nine. So yes. That is nice.

Driving here is fairly miserable, though. I am used to arterial roads having a speed limit of around forty-five. Here, on roads that look nearly the same as those faster ones (two lanes each direction, but with a middle turn-lane rather than a median), one is not allowed to go faster than thirty-five miles per hour. I am not sure how strictly this is enforced, but people follow it. On Evergreen, the road off of which my house is located, people like to go thirty, or sometimes twenty-five. It is horrid. The freeway is not much better. Through the city, the speed limit is sixty. And if you are going sixty, you should probably be in the left lane. The middle lane goes about fifty-seven, and the right lane goes about fifty-five. These people would die in California - not so much from accidents, but from fright at the cars going seventy-five or eighty.

This is taking adjustment. But at least the gas is cheaper.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Grief

Hello again. Thank you for your patience.

According to dictionary.com, my constant source of definitions, grief is keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret. a cause or occasion of keen distress or sorrow. I wondered, because I have been thinking about grief a lot over the past week.

I wanted time away, to grieve, as I mentioned below. Last week was difficult in this, as my mom's boss was ill so she was home from work for the week. I did not really have any time alone. My parents want me to be happy, in the they are upset that I am not sort of way. And I want this situation to not be entirely miserable, so I do my best to not upset them. So I did my best through the week. I even went out one evening, by myself, which seemed to please them. After all, if I'm out at a ballet, I must be all right, right? (I saw the Moscow Ballet perform Sleeping Beauty, which was wonderful, despite the idiot behind me who seemed to think that one comes to a ballet for the plot and would not stop whispering about how there were too many dances. Idiot. And despite the music being recorded rather than live. And a few other annoyances. And my being alone.)

Anyway, I waited out the week, looking forward to this past Tuesday. I had decided that that would be the day where I could grieve, good and proper. I fully planned on lying on my bed in the dark, listening to angry music and crying a lot. I went out to the store Tuesday morning and got bread and cheese and ice-cream, because those are good and proper grieving foods. It did not last very long. As it turns out, you can not induce those sort of days, however much you think you need them. I have decided that my idea of grief is vastly Romanticized. I had this picture of what I ought to look like at this time, and wanted to fulfill that. Which, when you think about it, is rather silly. Of course, I am a rather silly person, so I suppose nothing different should have been expected.

I think that it is likely that that sort of thing will happen, eventually. The lying in bed all day, not wanting to move or do anything but cry. Just not yet. And I know that I need to allow that. I am grieving, still, although I am not staying in bed with my blinds shut and refusing all social interaction. I do cry, I do wish dearly to come back home, back to where my life is. I grieve that I have been torn away from the places and people I love. I grieve in the way that is natural for now, because foremost I need to survive, so that I can return.

Tuesday I ended up getting back up after about an hour, getting dressed, eating some bread and cheese, and then going for a drive. Driving is very therapeutic for me, especially on fairly empty, familiar roads. It was raining, which helped. I drove out to Camp Four Echoes, my Girl Scout camp, where I spent several weeks every summer for ten years, and many weekends in between. I love that place, and I love the drive. It has been driven so many times that it was all automatic. I needed that - the familiarity of something beloved, familiar enough that I did not even have to think about it, I could let my mind stay on my grief without having to worry about the road or traffic, just winding through the countryside.

So, for now, I am back online. I will be in touch, and write more frequently than I did when I was in California (since now I am not seeing my dear friends every day, so updates are more necessary). But do know that when the grief does hit harder, as I expect it will eventually, I may disappear again for a time.

I miss you all so very much.

Blessings on your travels,

Emily