Now that I’m 40 and half my life has gone by, it seems about time to do the big girl thing and commit. To property. I almost bought a townhouse back in January and then I didn’t…and then, a week ago, I bought the same townhouse I passed on before. Well, not the exact same one, but it’s in the same community and it’s the same unit letter and position, just one building down. I’m glad I waited because the interest rate I have now is a full percent lower than what I had back in January. That’s tens of thousands of dollars in savings on a loan this big. Plus, I got a better unit because in this one, the previous owner shrunk both the kitchen and bathroom slightly to fit in a third bedroom. The location of the building is also better, with a large tree at the corner and not butting right up to the next building.
Caveat: This post is long and a bit of a ramble. It has a lot of ideas in it that aren’t fully formed and should probably be split into several distinct posts. It’s more of a thought exercise about the role of place in one’s life, which is the focus of a new writing course I’m taking. The point is to get writing and generate ideas without a lot of self-censorship at this point. I’d love to hear thoughts from my readers if anything here resonates with you.
When I was young, I thought Buffalo, NY was the absolute best place in the country to live. Some of the reasons I can remember included:
- bars were open until 4pm
- we had a waterfront (although it was undeveloped at the time)
- we could use Canadian coins interchangeably with American ones
- our shitty beer was Labatt’s, not Budweiser or Miller
I went to Tim Horton’s in Madrid. Being from Buffalo, New York, and having spent a lot of time in Canada before this fast food chain opened in my home town, I have a soft spot for Tim Horton’s. So, seeing one right outside my hotel window a few weeks ago, I had breakfast there one morning. The horror.
Here’s something else you might find horrifying – wherever in the world I am, I like stepping into McDonald’s and 7-11 to see what they sell. I generally don’t buy anything, but I’m curious. Personal feelings about McDonald’s aside, it is undeniably successful and popular. And it has become so, in part, by conducting careful research and tailoring its menu to each country it operates in. Therefore, going into McDonald’s is part of experiencing the culture of another place. Continue reading →
Ok, yes, it’s cliché to write about what you are thankful for on Thanksgiving. Several-years-ago-me would have rolled my eyes at the thought, just as I rolled my eyes at all things holiday related because of the commercialism and forced nature of it. I still despise the commercial side and don’t decorate or celebrate in any big way (because by the time Christmas rolls around we’ve been subject to decorations and holiday music for two goddamn months already in every store and on every street corner!), but I have adapted slightly and brought a little holiday spirit into my life in my own way.
Adult life goes by fast. I mean, remarkably fast. I look back on events that happened five years ago with certainty that they only happened a few months ago. Sometimes it takes literally months of planning and trial and error to finally get together with a friend for lunch because our schedules are so hectic and rapidly changing. And I still am unconvinced that 40 is just around the corner. So, the way I see it now, it’s nice to have a day on the calendar dedicated to giving your beloved some extra attention, to appreciating your parents, or to reveling in the fact that you are alive on this amazing planet for another year. It doesn’t have to be commercial at all. There doesn’t have to be a big sit-down dinner or a parade or a massive family picnic. It’s about taking a moment. And so, especially because my life satisfaction level is currently around 96%, today I’m taking a moment to write about what I am thankful for in my life. Continue reading →
In August 2015, I moved out of Lower Downtown Denver an hour away into the mountains west of Boulder into an exquisitely constructed house with a ten million dollar view. Partly due to its isolation and partly due to its Spanish mission style construction, my then-partner and I dubbed it the Sanctuary.
Sadly, the name became a misnomer. A sanctuary is a place of safety and protection but I was in a relationship that offered neither of those things. About eight months after we moved in, the relationship, which was always a bit fragile, became a nightmare. The person who swore he loved me, even up to the last day, who said everything he was doing was for our future and that I was his partner for life, also became a person who repeatedly told me I was a cunt and the worst thing that ever happened to him; who threw glass and smashed picture frames when I disagreed with him; who left the house for days at a time and refused to speak to me over the smallest arguments; who repeatedly told me I needed to leave his house and then begged for forgiveness and asked me to stay; who accused me of cheating, apropos of nothing, and then mocked me for being offended by the accusations; who treated me as the enemy, refusing to discuss our relationship at all and showing up drunk to couples counseling. I can go on for some time on the verbal and emotional abuse: Continue reading →