22. Sleeping in the back of my car
Home again, finally, though work calls sooner than later. It's amazing how quickly you can feel disconnected to a place when the world yanks you away...and even more amazing when you get to the end of the day and all it takes is the door closing behind you to cut through all that disconnect.
Paperwork hoops make you jump further than you expect, sometimes. Helen pushed on the paperwork, you see. Normally I'd push back, but she had a pretty good point: I don't have time whenever I want. Movie schedules, press schedules, all the other little requirements of this thing I call a career? They're like chaos, when trying to schedule up against anything else. So if I had free time at all, and I wanted to see any progress at all, I should jump while the jumping was good.
I start to wonder if she's got a reason to push on the paperwork beyond the simple explanations of wanting to move on. But then...why should I fault her, if she does at this point? She's allowed to move on and be happy, I think. That's part of the whole point, or so I'm told.
If paperwork and all the attendant errands that came with it didn't keep me busy enough, there was the additional push of wanting the rest of her things. When Helen moved out, she took what was essential, both practically and emotionally speaking. That left more than you'd expect dangling, to be honest. It wasn't quite like moving out, but it was close enough that I can sympathize with anyone else coping with boxes or having to sell a house right now, believe me. Now factor in hours-long phone calls to sort out the details that were, perhaps, a little sticky; it's too easy for conversations about who exactly owns what to turn into fights, even when you're a thousand miles away. Lucky us, we didn't even need to be in the same room to piss each other off this time.
And at the end of the day, I had a small truckload of boxes in need of delivery. I certainly could have just had them shipped off, but...remember when I mentioned feeling disconnected? I did, by the time things were properly packed up and the paperwork was all in the hands of the lawyers to work out "the next stage". Home just wasn't quite home anymore.
Helen had moved up to Washington after she moved out. One of her cousins lives up there, and her job let her transfer easily that way. A load of boxes, an unsettled soul, and a delivery needed on the same coast? Add these things together, and you probably end up with the same sum I did: rent a car big enough to carry the lot, and go for a drive. Besides which, I hadn't seen Lily since Helen moved out. It was an easy choice.
For those who've never tried it, I highly recommend taking the drive up Interstate 5 in the middle of the night. For one, you skip the heat entirely. For two, you skip most of the traffic. You certainly can't quite pretend the road is yours alone, but it's close. And third? It's gorgeous. Maybe I'm a greater fan of negative space than most, but for much of the drive, the only lights are those from the cars around you. It means the stars still come out, with the trees and mountains cuttong outlines of black against the view. You miss the green, and the views of Shasta and Hood, but the trade off is worth it.
I got to see my little girl, who is rapidly approaching anything but little. For the day with Lily I would have driven twice as far, I think. I hate that it's still the best thing that she stay with Helen, though I'm glad we're not tearing each other apart over her as well. That's the last thing she needs, and when you get right down to it, what Helen and I think we need, or what we want? Doesn't really count for shit. I'm just grateful, a little, that we're on the same page there.
Anyone else out there find night driving the perfect time for sorting your brain out? No one else on the road, the stars out, and it's just you, the car, and your thoughts. Of course, it's just as good for not thinking, if you load up your music right. I think I was about half and half this time, between getting things sorted out in my head and then finding the right albums to block out any chance of brooding over my fate.
Melodramatic, I freely admit. But a good excuse for hitting the record stores in Seattle and indulging the secret vice of "new music".
Besides, I find sometimes it's when you're intentionally not thinking about things, with an album you've never heard playing, that you stumble across the thoughts you never would have admitted to in the harsh light of day. One more reason to vote for the all-night road trip as therapeutic device. I'm still not thinking about some things, but at least when I got home again today, it was properly home once more.
Now if I can just crush this urge to make someone a mix tape.
Paperwork hoops make you jump further than you expect, sometimes. Helen pushed on the paperwork, you see. Normally I'd push back, but she had a pretty good point: I don't have time whenever I want. Movie schedules, press schedules, all the other little requirements of this thing I call a career? They're like chaos, when trying to schedule up against anything else. So if I had free time at all, and I wanted to see any progress at all, I should jump while the jumping was good.
I start to wonder if she's got a reason to push on the paperwork beyond the simple explanations of wanting to move on. But then...why should I fault her, if she does at this point? She's allowed to move on and be happy, I think. That's part of the whole point, or so I'm told.
If paperwork and all the attendant errands that came with it didn't keep me busy enough, there was the additional push of wanting the rest of her things. When Helen moved out, she took what was essential, both practically and emotionally speaking. That left more than you'd expect dangling, to be honest. It wasn't quite like moving out, but it was close enough that I can sympathize with anyone else coping with boxes or having to sell a house right now, believe me. Now factor in hours-long phone calls to sort out the details that were, perhaps, a little sticky; it's too easy for conversations about who exactly owns what to turn into fights, even when you're a thousand miles away. Lucky us, we didn't even need to be in the same room to piss each other off this time.
And at the end of the day, I had a small truckload of boxes in need of delivery. I certainly could have just had them shipped off, but...remember when I mentioned feeling disconnected? I did, by the time things were properly packed up and the paperwork was all in the hands of the lawyers to work out "the next stage". Home just wasn't quite home anymore.
Helen had moved up to Washington after she moved out. One of her cousins lives up there, and her job let her transfer easily that way. A load of boxes, an unsettled soul, and a delivery needed on the same coast? Add these things together, and you probably end up with the same sum I did: rent a car big enough to carry the lot, and go for a drive. Besides which, I hadn't seen Lily since Helen moved out. It was an easy choice.
For those who've never tried it, I highly recommend taking the drive up Interstate 5 in the middle of the night. For one, you skip the heat entirely. For two, you skip most of the traffic. You certainly can't quite pretend the road is yours alone, but it's close. And third? It's gorgeous. Maybe I'm a greater fan of negative space than most, but for much of the drive, the only lights are those from the cars around you. It means the stars still come out, with the trees and mountains cuttong outlines of black against the view. You miss the green, and the views of Shasta and Hood, but the trade off is worth it.
I got to see my little girl, who is rapidly approaching anything but little. For the day with Lily I would have driven twice as far, I think. I hate that it's still the best thing that she stay with Helen, though I'm glad we're not tearing each other apart over her as well. That's the last thing she needs, and when you get right down to it, what Helen and I think we need, or what we want? Doesn't really count for shit. I'm just grateful, a little, that we're on the same page there.
Anyone else out there find night driving the perfect time for sorting your brain out? No one else on the road, the stars out, and it's just you, the car, and your thoughts. Of course, it's just as good for not thinking, if you load up your music right. I think I was about half and half this time, between getting things sorted out in my head and then finding the right albums to block out any chance of brooding over my fate.
Melodramatic, I freely admit. But a good excuse for hitting the record stores in Seattle and indulging the secret vice of "new music".
Besides, I find sometimes it's when you're intentionally not thinking about things, with an album you've never heard playing, that you stumble across the thoughts you never would have admitted to in the harsh light of day. One more reason to vote for the all-night road trip as therapeutic device. I'm still not thinking about some things, but at least when I got home again today, it was properly home once more.
Now if I can just crush this urge to make someone a mix tape.