Tag Archives: moving


Image result for books

It feels like I’ve moved every year or two since 2012.

It’s been exhausting. Most of what I own is books– the books have moved with me every where I’ve gone. I don’t regret that– in my life books have always seemed more reliable than people. They provide emotional support and the stuff of humanity when I have been too isolated, vulnerable or frightened to interact with *real* humans. Books are kind.

Books are heavy, though.

I’m moving again.

I’m tired of living in the geographic dead space where the life I shared with my family used to be.

I’m tired of hiding where I live from them.

I’m tired of wondering if the neighbors are going to take exception to my existence again.

I’m tired of wondering if my mom was the one who sicced them on me.

I’m tired of wondering if my mom and her strategic gossip was the reason I lost all my clients, twice.

I’m tired of wondering if the jerk (co-worker) who harassed me at work (which incident the boss tried to make non-existent twice) is poisoning the ravenous-insecure fat front desk girls against me by flattering and flirting with them, and working them up against me.

This is important, because they’re the ones booking clients and making or *accidentally not* making confirmation calls and handling tips.

If I just only try to make friends with the girls at work, of course, this will be interpreted as flirting and flirting interpreted as some kind of sexy ultimate evil omen of doom that they can cluck about for weeks to make their shit boring lives seem exciting and important.

If I try to make friends with the boys, they, apparently, decide this means it’s open season to harass me.

And the girls militate against me as “competition”.

But the boys can flirt with them. Even creepy assholes. That’s totally cool.

And the gay dude throws me under the bus over his idiot straight boy crush on the little sociopath who flirts with him and then, as soon as he’s out of hearing, tries to turn the others against him.

I sort of hate people right now. All people. I know it’s not fair, but I’m so tired.

I laugh hysterically, deep down inside, when I overhear my boss wondering why he can’t keep therapists working at his clinic.

Books are good friends.

Books are lighter to carry than the weight of human indifference.

I’m moving again next week. Not between apartments.

Between cities. Between regions.

I will miss this area. I will miss the trees and the quiet water and the humble tangled groves and the wide sunrises and sunsets on ploughed fields. I will miss the past sewn into every angle of the ground and weather like blue stitches in a childhood quilt.

I will miss my home.

I won’t miss living here.

Wish me luck.



the ultimate sacrifice

So, I’ve been away for a bit. My car broke down unexpectedly and I had to move sooner than I expected. It was lame and I didn’t get to write a bunch of angry posts about our DLF John Mark’s article like I wanted. However, I did get the house I was staying in minimally clean for my cousin, who’s coming back from the war, and who has both OCD and PTSD…

Although not as clean as I had hoped.

And since then, I have driven across the US in a giant rental car- moved into my current living situation (near all my family and relatives)- reduced the amount of pointless clutter I had in storage here in my home area- and faked my way through several religious services that burned my soul like they would have a vampire’s.

Or. You know. Like molten metal burning the flesh of a North Korean Christian.

As they die for a God who cares so much about humans that he orders genocides whenever his panties get in a bunch.  And had to torture his own son to death before he could feel better about the whole thing.

And probably never existed in the first place.

(The Eyes of the Tailless Animals.  Soon Ok Lee.  She is not an apostate like me. Go read it. )

I was given a bottle of Vitamin B complex and a finch in the week following one of these services. I apparently looked really depressed.

I do not believe that Vitamin B complex will make me happy about God again. But I have been avoiding it anyway. Just in case.

(Picture me moping in a corner with a tiny black rain cloud over my head)

I like the finch.

I have not officially told anyone about my shifts in perspective.  Although I suspect people are talking.

My baby sister and I played Ninja Turtles and watch Hoodwinked and climbed the pine trees in the rain. And I sat with my little brother while he did Saxon Math and teased him so that he laughed and stopped fighting with my mom and sister.

He also imprinted on my Lemony Snicket books…? And has been reading them one after another and asking me stuff about the plot.

Dishonesty has its perks.


I’m probably back to business now.

And, because you were all dying to hear about the oddities of my subconscious, here is a dream I had, a few days before I moved.

I dreamed about a young man. He was moving back to his home area- Amish Country.

A horrible, horrible man lived there.

This man had died.

When the young man was in Amish Country, it turned out that they were going to take the man’s soul far away, into the land of death, so that he could never hurt anyone again.

The older brother was angry and determined. He was the one driving the van. A neighbor- an established man with a family- saw what they were doing and joined them. He was stronger than the terrible man, heavyset and good natured. He was in the back of the van, making the terrible man go with them. There were some other people there- and me- and the younger brother. The younger brother was disconsolate- on his knees weeping- sad and afraid. We were leaving everything- homes- families- and were going to be trapped with this evil man forever, imprisoning him in the land of death. I was kneeling with the younger brother, trying to comfort him.

We all got out of the wrecked van, and were going over to get in the van. I got out last. I tried to shut the door of the wrecked van behind me. Mangled as it was, it bounced open again. I tried several times. The crowd of onlookers was shocked and frightened by the bouncing door. They couldn’t see me. Like the others, I was dead.

I turned away and went to get in the van for the start of our journey.


The pictures of time and space are rearranged,
In this little piece of typical tragedy.

I forgot to
I forgot to let you know that…

Forgiveness is
The ultimate sacrifice.
Eloquence belongs,
To the conqueror.


What is in us that turns a deaf ear to the cries of human suffering?!!!


-System of a Down, Sad Statue