comfort in transition

May 20, 2009

I’m sitting on my couch in my half-dismantled living room.  The metal poking through the cheap cushions, my body propped up by pillows from my bed.  Finished watching King of California and it left me smiling.  

I’m eager when it comes to moving, I tend to start packing even before I find another place.  Looking around right now, I’m finding comfort in my wine crates packed with books, the empty walls- void of artwork, piles of clothes (to take, to give away, to sell).  I’m obsessively scanning the apartment, trying to visualize if everything I want to take will actually fit into my car.  What will make the cut?  What do I deem as so important it must travel a few thousand miles from Vermont to Texas, tightly packed in my Subaru hatchback….  

  • My two beautiful, lush plants
  • Funky lamp collection (all salvaged from the depths of basements and thrift stores)
  • A huge backpack full of shoes!
  • Books (Popular Mechanics Do-It-Yourself set from the 1950’s, novels, textbooks, poems, and a spanish dictionary)
  • Only my favorite eating utensils, glasses, and brightly colored authentic Fiesta wear
  • Clothes of course (but only the warm weather ones)
  • …Still debating on bringing my trio of headless dolls
  • A chandelier I found buried in the dirt on my brothers land (to be adorned with candles on my balcony)

Yup, that’s probably all that will fit.  There is something so incredibly therapeutic about sorting through and throwing away belongings.  There is something so incredibly hopeful about moving somewhere new.  And also a tinge of sadness leaving a place you love.  But that’s how all meaningful things are; polar feelings and beautiful endeavors….



May 12, 2009

I’ve spent a lot of time on planes and in airports over the past 48 hours.  This is what I thought about en route…

I’m still fascinated by flight attendants, and I’ve finally made the connection; the very first flight attendants had to be RN’s back in the day.  It must have been sort of glamourous at first, then the nurse’s must have gotten bored because not much action ever really happens during a flight.  My favorite flight attendant this trip was Lance.  He was in his mid-forties with an incredible mustache, and a no-nonsense attitude about him.  He had an amazing voice; deep, smooth and calm.  I silently prayed that it would be him that would announce the emergency instructions if the plane were to crash.  His voice would be the one I would want to hear before I died in a fiery wreckage.  If this career with Delta doesn’t work out for Lance, he could easily switch to being a D.J. at a radio station or even host his own talk show.

A funny thing was announced while we were taxiing on the runway, “If you cannot hear the pilot speaking over the loud speaker or hear a flight attendant talking to you, remove your headphones or ear pieces”.  The woman sitting next to me, gave a nudge and said “Don’t forget to breathe”.  No kidding.  I could go off on that topic about how dumbed down our society has become, but I’d like to stay on track with the ever fascinating airlines.

Remember when you could smoke on planes?  I’d only been on one, and it wasn’t that long ago, 2001 maybe.  Bangkok to Delhi.  Good old, Air India.  While shoveling curry into my mouth that was served by a beautiful woman wearing a sari as her uniform and a bright bindi on her forehead, I squinted through the smokey haze.  The high-pitched Hindi music rattled my brain and quickened my pulse as I tried to make out the lights of the mysterious city below below.  In the air, I was only given a glimpse of the complex world I was about to enter on the sub-continent.

Now, they threaten that “Anyone tampering with, disabling or destroying the smoke detector will be fined”.  I love the idea of someone in the tiny bathroom, having a nicotine fit, frantically trying to ‘destroy’ the smoke detector so they can sneak a puff in.  Every time I take a pee, I stare up and wonder how exactly, I would go about destroying it.  Smashing would probably do the trick, with my first if I was feeling rugged or maybe I would bring a tool in with me.  Somehow submerging it in water seems like a viable option as well.  

I wonder if the fine one would incur, would be immediate or would it be mailed to you?  Would they allow you off the plane or make you pay the $2,200 right then and there….