Oh, The Places I Went!

That is what I am calling this little writing exercise project of mine.

So here we go. I am calling this first one #2 because it is the second place I lived after leaving home.

#2

I lived in the dorms my freshman year of college and part of my sophomore year as well. Being in a big city like San Francisco during the "dot com" era was tricky, and dorm living was the only way to insure you were not forced to sell off your organs in order to afford rent at the time. Plus, I was a freshman, eager to make friends and get to know the college. What better way to do so than to cram myself into a tiny prison-cell sized room on campus?

My roommate was named Ruth and she smelled like rotten food most of the time. Or maybe it was her mini-fridge she brought along and stuffed full of strange food left to rot in our room while she went home to San Jose on the weekends. I think it was actually a blend of both the rotting food and the fact that she thought the dorm showers were "unsanitary," which was her excuse not to bathe all week until she could go home to her own shower. Unsanitary, my ass. Week-old roommate funk permeated my dorm room until I had a chance to air it out when she left for home on Friday afternoons.

We lived on the second floor and our window was often open and I am pretty sure she must have heard me complaining about her stench to anyone who would listen while we were sitting out in front of the dorm entrance. I believe this because I sure as hell could hear her from outside whenever she got a call from her Estonian mother. Her voice would raise about 10 octaves higher and every call began with "EH MA?" and then was followed by a shrill stream of Estonian at full volume into the phone receiver. It was one of the most grating sounds I have ever heard to this day, right up there with sirens, yappy dogs and babies crying. And it happened at least once a day. Ruth was quite close with her mother. Which explains her trips home every weekend all year long.

Ruth had a tiny TV/VCR that she used to record her special TV shows during the day while she was in class. Her special shows were the following--Kung Fu, The Legend Continues, Lois and Clark, and some soap opera I had never heard of. She would tape these shows every day while she was in class, then come back to our room and play them in the background while she played solitaire on her laptop computer for hours instead of studying.

Ruth loved TV so much that she also could not sleep unless it was blaring loudly next to her head. I would come home from my nightly freshman shenanigans to see her dead asleep in her tiny twin bed, the light from the TV casting a bluish hue on her face which was contorted into a dreamy scowl. The TV would be on "sleep" mode, and it would turn off on its own eventually. But Ruth would wake right up when that happened and turn it back on again to continue her Jay Leno monologue-lullaby. I did not sleep much that year, and when I did, Jay Leno's voice found its way into my subconscious in a way that left me disturbed most mornings. "Have you heard about this one? You know about this?" 

Needless to say, I did not spend a lot of time in my room that first year of college. Except on the weekends when she was gone, of course. That was her gift to me, and it was worth all the weird shit I dealt with during the weekdays. Once she was gone, the dorm room was mine and it was glorious. I blasted Tori Amos and Nine Inch Nails and Ani DeFranco music like nobody’s business. I stayed up way too late. Sometimes my first love, a boy I left behind in my hometown, would take the train a million hours to see me for the weekend and we would take over the whole room while Ruth was gone and make out as much as we wanted without disturbing anyone. I would invite friends to come hang out in my room or just spend an afternoon reading a good book or writing for hours without interruption. Even though I had to deal with the weekday funk of my roommate, it was totally worth it for how sweet I had it on the weekends that year.

Ruth always returned right when her pungent scent had finally left the air in our room, usually late Sunday evening. I would be disappointed to see our light on in the second floor window when I came back from the dorm cafeteria after dinner. I prayed the week would fly by so I could have the place to myself again.

My last memory of Ruth was when she came home crying one night toward the end of our year together. She had been desperate to get into a sorority and had finally found one that accepted her, and this night was some sort of scavenger hunt or something. It seems that Ruth was basically ditched by her sorority sisters during the night. She was alone in her car trying to follow them around caravan-style and hunt for objects, when suddenly they made a series of seemingly purposeful moves to shake her off their trail. She ended up lost and had to come home. She was convinced they did it on purpose, and to be honest, I was secretly convinced too. Sorority girls can be cutthroat, and let’s face it, Ruth was not exactly sorority material in the first place. She had a really hard time getting accepted into one, and now they were being mean to her. That had to hurt.

I listened sympathetically and tried to comfort her by saying maybe they did it by accident. I know she bugged the crap out of me, but no one deserved to be treated that way. I really felt bad for her. She cried some more, the kind of deep guttural sobs reserved for the truly rejected. Then she crawled into her little twin bed with her laptop so she could play solitaire and watch her shows.  


I did not roll my eyes when Kung Fu, The Legend Continues started up. I think I even watched a few minutes of it with her, letting her turn up the volume as loud as she wanted. 

Goodbye Childhood Home, It's Been Real

I had the seemingly rare experience of living in the same house my entire life from birth until I was 17. 

Most people I encounter share stories from their childhoods using various family relocations between different cities and homes as markers to help them figure out what age they were, or what grade they might have been in, during the events. For me, my life from age 0-17 sort of blurs into one big chunk of time. I can use my own markers, like which of the 3 available kids' bedrooms I called my own, or which siblings were still left at home with me and which had already gone off to college to help me figure out a rough timeline of events in my young life. But no relocations or home swapping of any kind occurred during my formative years. 

This is all fine and dandy to me. I definitely made up for lost time once I left my childhood home at age 17 and headed off to college, thus beginning an epic span of time in which I moved practically once a year for the next 10 years. After the monotony of the same house with the same decor and same layout and same neighborhood for most of my young life, I was especially excited for college dorms and early-20's-apartment-living for the change of scenery. Little did I know that I would end up being tossed around from one weird living situation to another for many years to come. 

When my father passed away in 2008, suddenly that childhood home was an empty, memory-filled beast of burden on the family. It was especially hard for my mother to be there all alone, dealing with ghosts of my father's presence and their life built there over the last 40 years. Eventually we relocated her to be closer to the rest of my family in Southern California and put the house up for sale just in time for the housing bubble to burst and wreak havoc on the California real estate market. Obviously no real offers have come through in quite some time. We have been waiting for someone to take it off our hands for a while now. 

Recently, an actual legit offer came through, and after some back and forth offers and counter offers, suddenly my childhood home stands on the brink of being sold. 

I won't even bother expounding too much on how frustrating it is that after such a long silence, we finally get an offer now of all times. Of course it has to be during the final stretch of wedding planning for me, thus making it a logistical nightmare for me to even consider getting out there to see the house one last time and help my family vacate the place we called home for my entire life. This is all very depressing to me. But I am trying to be strong and realize that it does not need to be this big dramatic movie exit where I wander the rooms and cry and catch glimpses of my dead father in bathroom mirrors or anything. It can simply be the end of an era when that house was a part of my life. And now it will be a part of my history. And my memories of it are probably more vivid than any that a final walk-though would provide. 

So, (and this is assuming I don't just flip out and jump on a plane to my hometown and make it work somehow before my impending nuptials) I guess this is the end for me and that old house. Goodbye, old friend. You hold many of my secrets and memories and tears and joys within your walls. Thanks for being a good friend to me and my family.

                                                            (view of my old backyard)

ALSO:

My recent reflections on my childhood home got me thinking about my subsequent journey into different living situations in the years after I left. I have had some pretty weird living arrangements and roommates that make for some fun stories to share. 

I have decided to post a series of short writing exercises on my blog about the different places I have lived and see how far I get. I reserve the right to ditch this project if I decide I am tired of writing about this. I also reserve the right to go out of order.  I will try to number them so we can keep track. Sound good? Good. 

This Is Working Out Well

My oh my, this is getting ridiculous! 2011 is starting off poorly in the blogging department, that is for sure. But honestly, can you blame me for being a little distracted? I AM PLANNING A WEDDING FOR GOD"S SAKE! (did that sound Bridezilla-y enough for ya?)

Truthfully, planning has kicked into high gear, with less than two months to go. However, that is no excuse for not keeping up with my vow to stick to my writing with this blog. Am I as stressed as a typical bride? No. I chose a destination wedding for a reason, folks. Am I worried about the little details? Hell no. Am I up late every night feverishly working on centerpieces? Nope. There are, in fact, many days I do not work on wedding preparations. And those days, instead of writing, I stare at stupid TV or drool over my adorable kitty. Not the best habits to pick up, I am afraid.

One thing I actually have been spending time on is trying to lose weight before the big occasion. After all, not only are people seeing me in my gown, but also in my bathing suit! And I have chosen to wear a white bikini for the weekend, in honor of being all bride-y and stuff. So I gotta at least attempt to lose the Chicago beer gut I have acquired over the last seven years living here and enjoying myself.

So what have I been doing to lose the weight, you ask?

Well. What haven't I been doing?

1) I joined WeightWatchers and it has actually been helpful. I may not ever actually hit the points number I am supposed to for each day, but just being aware of what each meal will "cost" me in points helps me curb some of my snack cravings and avoid things that will rack up my number for the day. And I think just the awareness alone has been helpful in losing weight. I can track myself and my eating habits and look for tasty alternative recipes and it has been a pretty cool tool overall. Thanks, Jennifer Hudson! You are the first celebrity spokesperson I bought into. And I am pleased I did.

2) I do yoga once a week consistently. Having some close pals open an awesome, affordable, non-intimidating yoga studio in Chicago certainly helped this dream become a reality for me. Because of my love of supporting my friends' endeavors, along with my determination to be able to do a headstand, I have been able to make yoga an official part of my life. It has been great. I think that yoga strengthens you in a different way then most exercises, and there is a long and lean body shape that begins to form after doing it regularly. That leanness was what I think was missing from my workouts for the last few years. And now I am achieving it. Oh, and I can do the headstand against the wall thus far. Baby steps.

3) I forced myself to take up running, and have stuck with it. I hate running with a passion. I do. But I know it is one of the few things that lets the pounds melt away, so I keep doing it. Many years ago, a buddy introduced me to Robert Ullrey's "Couch to 5K" podcast, and I began this experiment with trying to run again after many years of avoidance. I am happy to say that I am far beyond the podcast and can now perform a run/walk/jog combo for about 30 minutes, or two miles. This is a great achievement. Another thing that helped my stamina? I learned that the fastest marathon runners, often Kenyan, typically run barefoot and hit the ground with the balls of their feet first, then their heels, which is better on your body. I tried it, and after a few sore days, my legs got used to the change and now I can run for a longer period without getting sore or tired as a result. It's awesome!

These are my three big things I have been focusing on. And after a little over a month, I am happy to say I have lost about 10 pounds (give or take, depending on the day). It has been tough but rewarding, and the changes to my body shape are pretty noticeable to myself and those around me. In fact, I was not planning on bridal gown alterations, but now I pretty much have to, because the dress is fitting differently now as a result of the weight loss. As annoying as it is to have to budget more cash flow for alterations, I can't really complain. It feels pretty dang good.

As someone who always struggled to actually lose weight despite being fairly active, this progress has shocked me. But I totally know what to attribute the weight loss to--it is the eating habits part. In the past, I would never deny myself tasty meals or drinks. I like to eat and eat well. I would crave a cheeseburger after working out, and let myself have one as a reward. Then I would be puzzled when I worked out three times a week and never lost any significant weight. It's that dumb behavior that kept me from losing the weight. And it is that behavior that I struggle with still--the hardest thing about the last month has been resisting the urge to eat what I want, when I want. But I am plugging along and trying to keep it up.  Sometimes I screw up (mostly on weekends), but I continue to try to get back on the saddle again the next day and not get discouraged with myself. After all, these lifelong habits I am trying to break.

Well, that is what has been up with me and preparations for the wedding. It has been both fun and exhausting to work toward the goal of throwing a fun party for our nuptials. I am confident that it will all pay off in the end. And it all goes by so fast, so they say, so I am just hoping I remember to take some mental pictures of the whole affair that I can keep tucked in my memory forever.