On my way out

The other day I helped John move his heavy furniture to his and his brother's new place in San Mateo. He gave me a hundred bucks to help him out which, in turn, really helped me out. John's brother, Vince borrowed his friend's hugenormous pick-up truck to haul the furniture. Vince and I talked a lot about what was going on and how screwed the whole situation is. I found out that Rusty, the dog that Vince had to give to us when he got a divorce and moved out, would be moving back in with John and Vince.

Getting the money for helping with the move really helped me out because I originally thought I would pay a couple hundred dollars a week until Andy, Adam, and I moved in to our new place. Somehow that didn't work out and I ended up needing to come up with $700 in just a few days. I was able to get my dad to wire me $500 and with the $100 John gave me, I only needed to come up with another hundred from my own pocket.  

So we're signing the lease this weekend. We'll probably start moving things in by Monday at the latest. Kate is going to let us use her big red truck to move our big furniture. Andy's girlfriend, Estrella is going to be taking my snake, Monty for her classroom pet because Andy and especially Adam can't stand to even be around snakes. 

I'm not sure how long we'll be in this new place because  A) We'll be on a month-to-month lease and B) Andy might move in with Estrella after a few months. Adam and I are in no financial shape to afford a place on our own or even just the two of us so we're hoping that Andy doesn't leave us high and dry. I was hoping my stress would subside a bit once we got our new place and moved but with a constant feeling of Adam and I potentially being left in the lurch, it's a little hard to relax.

Wet Socks and Sulfur Lights

I wake up almost every morning to the sound of someone yelling at our incontinent geriatric dalmatian because she once again pissed on the carpet outside my room in the basement. At least now someone will usually put a towel over the wet spot so I'm not surprised with a pee-soaked pair of socks. Our cat's litter box is in the laundry room right next to my room and isn't changed until it is absolutely time to change it which makes the whole downstairs area smell like cat piss. Between walking in it and smelling it, I live in a urinal.

That is why I'm moving out.

Even though I have my house to sleep in, I find myself at Andy's every other night just because I don't want to have to deal with my family. 

1:30 am--Andy's brother Adam and I decided to hit up Nation's to celebrate him getting his medical marijuana card. Adam was a little more excited about it than I was but it was kind of surreal to the both of us that it was now (mostly) legal for him to grow and smoke marijuana. It made me think of the speech class I was taking. 

A woman in the class was giving an introductory speech about what she values. She said that the one thing that she does NOT value is marijuana. She said it's because everyone who smokes weed just likes to sit on the couch and not be motivated and basically be a drain on society. Her reasoning was a little flawed and I wanted to stand up and tell her that I work 40 hours a week, take 15 units of classes and I like to get high every now and again.

2:30 am--When we got back from stuffing our faces with chilliburgers, omelettes and cheese fries, we noticed a small flock of herons in the field across from the house. It had been raining out and they were sifting through the mud trying to find worms. They were pretty skittish and we tried our best to get a good shot of them but this is all I ended up with.  Second surreal moment of the night.  Once we were done trying to be nature photographers, we had an impromptu shoot in the middle of the street.

I've always been fond of the lighting in Berkeley. My favorite picture of my dad is of him sitting on the curb underneath a street light. There's a street sign that reads California street and University. Kind of ironic considering my dad is from Mexico and never went to college.

 

When it rains...

Within the last two weeks, my girlfriend (of 5 1/2 years) and I decided to take a break, I found out that my mom (whom I live with) was having an affair on her boyfriend (who also lived with us), I was given 30 days to move out because John (mom's now EX-boyfriend) was paying most of the rent and wouldn't be paying it anymore, and subsequently I dropped all 15 units of classes that I was taking so that I could devote time to finding a place to live. To put the cherry on the shit sundae that I was eating, I owe $300 on my taxes and my hours are getting cut at work. What a start to the new year.

The weekend that most of these things happened, I stayed with with my buddy Andy and his brother Adam to talk to them about what was going on. We decided that we would try to find a cheap 2-3 bedroom apartment to rent out and share together because they had been looking for a new place already. I've been staying with them on and off which has given me a chance to realize that the biggest part of my major transition is fleeing the coop. Considering the fact that I'm almost 25-years old and still living at home, I think it's probably about time, whether I'm ready or not.

This blog is about the series of events that has led me to take my first REAL steps in to the big scary world. I call this blog Bungee Jumping.If you think about being a nervous bungee jumper getting that 3-2-1 countdown and not jumping, and then the bungee rigger giving you a pat on the back saying "it's going to be fine" and "you're not going to die", and then you get that 3-2-1 countdown again and you still don't go so the rigger pushes you...this transition kind of feels like that. I'm terrified to take that initial leap and while I'm free falling I'm probably still going to be a little scared but after a few bounces I'm probably going to realize that I'm not going to die and eventually I'll be back on the ground with both feet firmly planted...maybe even kissing the dirt a little bit.