Anti-Social Travel Cooler

I've occupied my new apartment for forty-eight hours now. I've had two semi-restless nights on a graciously loaned air-mattress, eaten out a lot due to a lack of plates / pans, and spent hundreds of dollars buying inexpensive household items to get the lady and I by till we can get all of our nice stuff out west.

While staying at my friends for the last three months I often holed up in my room in an attempt to give them space while enjoying some myself. This solitary time does nothing for my social skills. I find myself verbally stumbling when I'm fortunate enough to enjoy the company of others. I'm so starved for conversation that nightly calls with the lady find me talking to her more than with her. I babble uncontrollably finding pause with my verbal assaults only after hanging up the phone. It's no different at work.

The team at work is a close knit bunch that have enjoyed work related, bond inducing world traveling. Beyond attachment these four guys are extraordinarily smart. Considering these two attributes it's not hard to believe that I find my head spinning as they weave a tale or drudge up trivial knowledge at breakneck speed. I've joined in on occasion but my overall plan is to be quiet. I do the tasks presented to me, am pleasant when addressed, and simply listen to the verbal whirlwind occasionally chuckling when I get the joke.

I feel like a high school jock in the AV club. That's not completely accurate. Imagine a four-hundred strong AV staff that stop feeding four-hundred projectors to stare at me as I enter the room. That's not completely accurate. Exaggerated or not, the dramatic drop in friends and the seemingly uphill battle to obtain new ones that live in the same state is disheartening.

A friend gave me permission to have a break down. She offered her shoulder if I should succumb to the pressure. It’s not that I haven’t considered a mild breakdown, but the bliss I was experiencing was due to self imposed ignorance. Offered permission, I now want to break down.

At night I sit on my travel cooler and watch DVDs on my computer which rests on one of the only items of furniture I own: My fifteen-dollar Ikea table. The bedroom furniture is sad and the front room furnishings are non-existent. When the lady gets out here in two weeks we'll pick out some items to occupy the front room. But when she gets out here I won't even care if there is furniture at all.

Normalcy Over-Easy

Breakfast is the single most important meal of every day. Not because of it's "good start" qualities but simply because it fits. It's comfortable. Breakfast's consistent nature wins in the long run over the exotic tastes of dinner and lunch. It holds a constant comforting spot at average.

For three months I've lived with my friends in Seattle sans wife, dog, and sense of self. Waking up early in the morning finds me hiding in my room. The two children have been conditioned with a digital clock to abandon their beds at six-o-o and not a minute sooner. This mandate is overridden if the kids hear any noise prior to six-o-o (If someone is awake the day has started.) Such a noise could present itself as a house guest made breakfast, watched television, showered, or even from the simple act of opening his most certainly squeaky bedroom door.

There are so many opportunities to misstep in a situation such as this. Leave a dish out, eat the chips, comment on child raising. All bad. Even when approached with my cautious friendly touch. Not eating dinners they cooked, cleaning all sorts of dishes, and ignoring questionable behavioral from their kids is also meet with mild scorn. As hard as it is on me, it must be at least that hard on them. Sure I don't remember the last Friday night I had to myself, but babysitting seems a fair trade for a roof. Besides, it has been mostly good. I suppose maybe strained at moments would be a good assessment of the bad. I couldn't have accepted this job without their help. That said I'd gladly sleep on a towel in the corner of my very own place.

I move into our West Seattle apartment this weekend. It's not a separate part of the city borrowing it's name sake in an attempt to appear cool; It's in the city proper and stands alone as more of district or burrough. Within two blocks of our modest one-bedroom place are Indian, Chinese, pizza, Italian, and Thai restaurants. Same for a Blockbuster, two banks, coffee, bagels, second run theater, two grocery stores, gas station, a florest, and a place to go out for breakfast.

Though I don't have the keys yet, I visited West Seattle yesterday. I parked outside the apartment and wandered around. Window shopping down California Ave. for a few blocks before catching a flic, eating some za, and wrapping it all up with a grocery run to the fancy, high priced market. For five hours I pretended that I lived there and wandered around with a sense of neighborhood ownership and belonging. It felt good.

Three weeks till my wife flies in with our dog. Now that there is an end date it's almost harder to get through each day. I've busied myself with TV, books, and lots of sleep (naps and otherwise) avoiding the 'missing her' feelings. Even though things will still be upside down till our Chicago place sells, we move all of our stuff west, and purchase a new condo, there is one giant step toward normalcy about to happen; I'll soon be sharing my comfortable morning meals with my lady.

Close Call

My new job is going well. The hours are long but it turns out I like working. I'm arriving an hour and a half earlier to work than at Sony and I leave anywhere from thirty minutes to two hours later. That said, it's not work.

Sure I have tasks, deadlines, and am challenged every day. None of it seems a chore. Only two months in, I received a glowing review. Not only was I a good guy, as my boss was prone to point out often, I exceeded his expectations for the position and was performing at a level which he expected at the six month mark. All of this was made so much sweeter since I was not laid off from my previous employer this last Thursday, as so many of my friends were.

My old boss didn't replace me when I left. So I'll never know if I would have actually been cut. Considering every single person in the marketing department I designed merchandising materials for was relieved of their jobs, I'm fairly confident my old position was not relevant considering the state of the dying music industry. It's unsettling getting a jolt of happiness from avoiding the cuts while watching so many of my friends cut loose, but having gotten out only two months ago, well ... I can't help but smile.

Fortunately everyone I was really good friends with at Sony were sparred. Are they the lucky ones? I've asked this question every time we've had lay-offs at Sony (once a year, for fourteen years, except the year they announced the big merger which resulted in a forty percent cut of the workforce the following year.) I know I was wishing to be laid off while at Sony. I know financially it would have been the best situation to receive a severance package especially considering the packages are based on tenure. My decision to go west has been proved to be a good one considering. Even if it wasn't for how much I love the job. Right decision. Even if I didn't love the weather (hitting high fifties while Chicago suffers through minus eighteen without considering windchill.) Right decision. Even leaving all of my incredible friends behind. Right decision.

That last one is a stretch. I certainly miss all of my friends. I can always return to Chicago if this place ends up not suiting us. If the job doesn't work out. If I miss my friends. Doing it on my terms is the most important part of the equation. So far so good.

Breaking the Ice

Four months have passed since I've been writing here. While there have been a few posts in that time (nine if you count the two "I'm too busy to post" posts,) the steady stream of finger chatter has been essentially silenced.

I explained what a busy few months I've had to a friend on email today. I typed out a string of changes and adventures I've undertaken in the last 4 months and realized that every single change fell into exactly one month.

A move across the country when you've lived in the same place for thirty-seven years would have been enough. A new wife - enough. A nine-thousand mile trip to Japan - enough. Quitting a job you've had for fourteen years - you get the picture. Having encountered a life change cocktail like that, I'm surprised I remember to put on pants.

It's not the rain that has me down. It's the two-thousand miles separating my friends and I. In a month from now the lady will be out here sharing a roof once more after three long months of extraordinarily phone bills. Unless all of you plan to move two-thousand miles west, I've a reason to be down.

The longer you stay away from something, the harder and more awkward it is to come back to. Every day I didn't post I wondered how I would start back up. I've a dozen unfinished posts and I'm not sure they're even relevant any longer. I can write new posts in Seattle but I made so many back in Chicago.

I can make new friends in Seattle but I have so many back in Chicago.