Friday, December 16, 2011

Parking Woes and Panty Hose

Disclaimer: this post has nothing to do with hosiery. It just wanted to make the title rhyme.

I belive I have angered the Hautian gods as they have decided to kick my ass for the things I have been saying in this blog. Their first act of vengance: screwing with my parking!

Yesterday was like any other day, I woke up, did my morning thing and headed out to work. Because you can park anywhere in Terre Haute, the parking lot to my job was full. No worries, it has been full be before, I can usually just park on the street close by. No such luck. I had to circle the block TWICE (something I have not had to do in almost four months) because there was road construction and a funeral at the church next door to where I work. I ended up having to park a block away (also, not something I have done in months!) and I went to work. I realize the ease of parking here has softened me up a bit and I was irratated that I had to walk a block. A block? Back home people would have been jealous that I managed to get so close.

One thing I have come to like (and possibly love) about Terre Haute is that I can park pretty much any where I want. I have my own parking spot at my apartment, I park in the lot at work (usually), if I go downtown (this term is used loosely), I can always find street parking, but only for two hours and no one pays attenton any way. If I can't find parking, there is a lot where I can $1/hour or $5 day. Your eyes are not failing you: Five dollars.  A day. Where I am from, you can get 20 minutes of parking for $5! Once Sassy was telling me how to get somewhere and she told me to park in the parking lot of the store accross the street. What? That idea is foreign to me, most likely because I have been trained to fear parking in store lots when I am not going to that store, There is a Dunkin' Donuts in my hometown that has a central location in a really hoppin' part of town. People would often park there to go to the other stores and come back to find their cars gone. Pretty sure there is someone hired to watch the lot and call the waiting tow truck on all the people that park there illegally. This happens mostly to out of towners as if there is one thing you have to know when parking in this neighborhood is DON'T PARK in the Dunkin' Donuts! Some shopkeepers try to help by posting signs on the door that advise against it, but chances are if you parked your car in that lot by the time you read the sign it is already too late. So when Sassy suggested that I park in a different lot, I was like "I don't want my car to get towed!" She assured me it wouldn't and then thought about it saying "I'm not sure we even have a tow truck here." Now, I am sure there are tow trucks in the Haute, but come to think of it, I have not seen one since I have been here.

During the work day, I got wrapped up in what I was doing and ignored the note to myself to move my car in the lot now there was room. I just kept right on doing what I was doing until I had to leave for an appointment at 245p. On my way back I noticed a blue piece of paper under my windshield wiper that I didn't think much of. In my life I have been trained to look for orange. If there is paper under your wiper blades the first thing you do is look at the color (white and orange) and once you rule out parking ticket, you know it was probably an ad. I kept driving while the ad was flapping in the wind and I had no luck in getting it off. By the time I got back to work, I pulled it out from under the blade and was gald I did ot discard it.

I was holding my very first Terre Haute parking ticket.

Of Course! I shoved the ticket in my purse making  a note of the time I got it (239p...fml) and reacted the way anyone I know usually does. I cursed the metermaid's existence, that if I had only left a few minutes earlier and so on. I can't believe that I let this city trick me! They never check and I stopped caring about moving my car at the appropriate time when needed and today it has decided to bite me in the ass.

I finished up at work and went to a Christmas concert that Sassy's kids were in, Once again, I got hit with a full parking lot and had to park a block away...AGAIN! It was then I knew there a conspiracy. On the long walk back to my car I decided to change my ways and promate the awesome-ness of the Haute. You see, folks? I was contemplating lying to stop getting parking tickets and crappy parking spots and making the Hautians happy. It was when I got in my car and took a good look at the parking ticket that was going to make me repent and realized that my parking faux pas would cost me a whopping ten dollars. Ten. Dollars. Not the fifity I have come to know and hate, but ten? I can do ten.

Game on Hautian god of vengence! I have a crisp ten dollar bill with your name on it!As long as my readers are entertained, I consider it money well spent!

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

"Do you know how hard it is to get a lipstick in this place?"

I will give you a dollar if you can tell me where that is from and another dollar if you can tell me who said it! You can make TWO WHOLE DOLLARS off a line that I never thought I would be using in my whole life!

The last time I went to the Honey Creek Mall here in Terre Haute, it was before I moved her and I needed  to kill some time before meeting with my boss Jim (I have two bosses and I already told you about Geoff) to formally accept my offer. It was just before Border's closed and I spent most of my time trying to find discounted audio books (I know, that is so old of me...I also knit so laugh away!) and I didn't wander around much. I really should have so I would have been prepared for what was (or wasn't) in store for me.

I should take a moment to let you know that I made a new friend, Chellie. She is around my age and just moved to Terre Haute because she got a job here. (Sad fact about the Haute: the job market sucks here, but two of the most recent residents came here because of a job.) Like me, she left friends and family behind, but she also has a fiancee that will join her once he is done with his continuing education. I am still getting to know her, but I am realizing that Chellie is the Patty to my Simcox and we have been getting along just fine.

Chellie and I had a lunch date yesterday because she wants to possibly volunteer where I work and after thinking it best to walk off our Qdoba (yep, they have one here...shocked? me too.) and I had sometime before a meeting, we went to the mall. I am thinking this is a great idea because they have a Macy's (which equals a MAC counter) and a JCPenney (which equals a Sephora!). I am pumped and super prepared to get my beauty on because I have been seriously deprived because I am sure the Ulta is shacking up with Target and Chase bank. Seriously? No Ulta? Ulta is everyday stuff! They should really have an Ulta! I think I am going to have to start a major letter writing campaign and something needs to change, because Ulta sells the mascara that I like and OPI nail polish that I can usually get on sale and I just love Ulta. OK, I am taking a breath. Where was I? Yes! The mall.

Super excited to go to the MAC counter because there is this lipstick that I keep hearing about and I must see it person (can we say stocking stuffer idea?!). For what seems like five minutes of searching, I ask the gal at the Lancome counter where to find the MAC counter. Without emotion or remorse, she says "Hmph. You won't find that in Terre Haute." Dejected, I managed to make my way out of Macy's and into the mall and began to notice what else I would not find in Terre Haute (Express, New York and Company, and Aldo) and things I really didn't care to find (Hollister, Aeropostale, BOTH Claire's and the Icing and American Eagle to name a few). It seems like to be happy with the shopping selection here, you have to be a cookie cutter teenager. By the time I made it to JCPenney, I really needed to spend some time among quality beauty products and went looking for the Sephora. I asked the first sales associate to point me in the right direction and I would be off. First. She looked at me with a question in her eyes. Then. She started to understand. Finally. She delivered the crushing blow: "Sephora? They took that outta here. They weren't gettin' much business from the folks around here." Then she walked away. Walked away. That's right pay no attention to the girl you have sentenced to an existence of drug store beauty care--something I don't do often. Don't get me wrong, there is a market for drug store beauty care. Teenagers and people that don't know or don't care about better products have found what they need at the local CVS or Walgreen's. I prefer specialty shops, I guess I am high maintenance that way. I am not a beauty product snob, I just like what I like and love when it is made available to me.

As I walked out of the JCPenney I was inquiring to Chellie as to how two young, intelligent, charismatic, fashion-forward girls get sucked in to the Haute? Because I may have been slightly hyperventilating as I was asking her this, it came out more like "h-how (huuh-huuh) d(huuh)id t-two (huuh)..." you get the picture. I realize that it is not good form to have a psychotic break a week and a half into a friendship, but Chellie handled it well. I regained my composure by the time we found the Cinnabon stand and I decided to eat my feelings. Plus side: I discovered the cinnabon "centers", the best part of the cinnabon without all the calories! I did manage to get through the mall without any more break downs and I found the Gap (the only redeeming quality) and a cute ornament stand so the trip wasn't a complete bust.

Why did I move here? They clearly are not ready for the likes of me. This is not about some poor girl not getting her mascara and lipstick, this is about the fact in most of my experiences here, I feel a lack of progress here. I feel that they are not only are they not ready for me and my "big city ways," they are not ready for any way except the way it is already. This has to change or I have to. At this point in time I am resolute in maintaining my innate "Lainie-ness" and that is becoming hard work in a community that is mostly stagnant in population and enlightenment and I need progress in my life. I also need challenges and this one might keep me busy for a while.

I know that if I can just hold on and get my cosmetics when I visit my family back home, I can get to work on impacting those around me in the meantime. It's just like I said when I was (and still am) unsure about Geoff, I know can inspire people to want better for their lives. I know that I was talking about cosmetics and shoes then, but we have to start somewhere, right?! Besides, Sassy thinks that it's already working--she's bought at least four pairs of new shoes since I moved here. At this rate, we can probably get an Ulta in no time!

Friday, December 9, 2011

The Couture of the Haute

I am not alone here. If I keep telling myself that I will start to believe it. Maybe if the Face of Boe could summon me and tell me the same, I would be just fine.

In know there are about 70,000 people in Terre Haute and it is impossible to truly be alone. But I gotta tell ya, sometimes it is hard not to feel like the last of the timelords especially when I have seemed to travel somewhere else in time and space by moving here.

For those of you who are not cool enough to know about Doctor Who, I am sorry that you have not reached fulfillment in your life and I will try to keep Doctor-related references to a miniumum until you log onto Neflix and watch the new series (from 2005) because it is awesome!

OK, where was I? Thats right, last of the timelords! Coming to Terre Haute from the city I am just as alien to these people as they are to me. Their way of being is so different than my own that I need others to know the things I can't seem to get off my mind:
  • They have couches...on the front porch...on purpose. Not lawn furniture. Actual, Couches. Some of them are even sofa beds. When I moved her my couch did not fit in my apartment (a sad story that is still too painful to tell because I really love my old couch and that was the only thing that I truly wanted from my old life. Sigh.) and Marge, one of the ladies I work with said "I have a couch you can have, it is just sitting on my porch!" Thinking that I had to beat the Salvation Army to this couch I was like load me up today! She looked at me all confused and was like "No, it's my porch couch. We were thinking about getting a new one anyway so it is all yours." I already accepted this couch and I could not refuse it now and once it was in my apartment I braced myself for any and all critters that I would find. By the time I was done beating and disinfecting the couch (that has a sofa bed, btw) to my own satisfaction I am pretty sure that I had Angela Bassett arms and slould have considered buying stock in Lysol.

  • They accept checks in good faith. I was at a street fair last week and I was looking for an ATM because being a street fair it was cash only and one of the women looked at me me like I was stupid and said "You can write a check." I told her my check book was home and she and her booth partner exchanged glances that seemed to say "Who is this chick? Doesn't she know she's at a street fair?" And responded with a look of my own that was like "Who are you people? Don't you know that you are at a street fair and people can just rip you off?" That's not even the worse part, Sassy wrote a check for something and they didn't even ask for her ID! I don't know any place besides my landlord that you can write a check and they will accept it without ID, mother's maiden name, figerprints and an ounce of blood. How? How are these people so trusting? ...or am I just jaded?

  • Everybody knows Geoff (I decided to spell his name that way-I think it suits him better) and just about everyone else I work with so when in public, I have to speak to Sassy in code. 1991: That was the year I learned pig latin and I pretty sure I haven't used it since. As they say, "just like riding a bike!"

  • They still have mom and pop banks. This is not neccesarily a bad thing, but when I moved here I realized that I need a new bank because mine was only in three states that did not include Indiana. With a heavy heart, I decided that I was finally going to have to join the rest of the baking world and go with Chase because they are taking over the universe. After a Google search, I realize the nearest one is about 60 miles away. I'm sorry, what? It's not on the next corner or the one after that? I never thought that I would crave that blue logo as much as I did in that moment. It was then that I realized I was getting farther away from the life I have known for more than thirty years. I mean, yay for Terre Haute staying true to itself and not having a Chase, but damn! Can't I have anything to count on? In my quest to find a bank that I could have in my hometown and this town, I ended up with the bank in Walmart. Walmart! I am a lot of things, but a Walmart shopper is not one of them which brings me to my next point...

  • They have two (TWO!) Walmarts...and no Target. I don't know if I am able to elaborate on this topic because I still can't find the words to communucate my dismay and sadness. When I tell people that there is no Target here, I watch them flinch, compose themselves and then comfort me. Excuse me...I need a moment to collect myself.[insert Mariah Carey's "Without You" here] OK, i'm back.

  • Mom jeans, All the rage. Get yours today! Seriously, mom jeans are selling like hotcakes here! At least I think so because that is what most people are wearing. That and turtlencks. Not the cute cowl neck ones or even the black artsy ones, just the plain ones paired with mom jeans that you buy from (you guessed it...) Walmart! I don't know why, but I really thought that mom jeans were not made anymore. I honestly thought that the fashion council outlawed any further production of tapered jeans with pleats on the top.
               They did? Then what's the problem? Really? Hmm...
        
         OK, I have just received intel that although mom jeans have been outlawed, the citizens of Terre   Haute exiled all of the fashion police within city limits and had it written into the city's bylaws that tapered, pleated , relaxed fit and other jeans designed  to make your ass look wider are perfectly acceptable to wear to a soccer game, a barbeque, work, doctor's appontments and fundraisers that are $100 a pop. Not kidding on the last one, I was there!
  • I believe all of the other black people are in hiding. No joke! Everytime I am out and about it is just me and a bunch of white folks. There are those random times where I do see black people and both of us are giddy with excitement but we try to mask it with a very controlled nod or quick and meaningful eye contact. When I first moved here I was convinced that I was the only black person within city limits, but I found some at the Denny's on 3rd where several of my like-melonined people were both working and dining...and I went three times my first week here. Sometimes they pop out when I least expect it like at mass! Or at opportune moments like when my car ran out of gas 100 yards from the gas station and they pushed me the rest of the way there. I am now on a mission. I have to find a way to discover the hiding places of all the black people in Terre Haute coax them into the light and join me at the Denny's where we can be with our people.
They may be more things that I dscover as time goes on and maybe there will be things I will appreciate (less traffic! lower rent!), but for now as I am learning this place and its (ahem) charms and hoping to add some charm on my own as I make my life here liveable and the black people visible even if it only for a Rooty Tooty Fresh and Fruity.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

I Think I Make My Boss Nervous

For real.

Not nervous in the way you would normally think, he doesn’t stammer and wet his pants the moment I walk by the way I am sure my old boss did (yes, I do have that effect on people). I just think he doesn’t know how to take me and that makes him nervous. That may have something to do with the fact that I met him on my second interview for the position, he approved my hire and went on a four month leave of absence.
It has been kind of…amusing getting to know him and figure out where he fits in now that I am settled and have learned the ropes without his help. From what I have observed, be likes to be large and in charge which may be a problem because though I may not be large (losing weight, thank you), I am certainly in charge. Maybe not on paper, but I believe run this (“this” applies to anything of which I am involved) and everyone else had better recognize.
Once Jeff got back, he immediately tried to tell me how to do things and explain procedures that I have had no problem understanding for the last three and a half months. That and the fact that there is nothing he can do for me that I can’t already do for myself are other reasons I think I make him nervous. He may not know where he stands with me if he doesn't have the power to control what kind of worker I am. His fault. I didn't tell him to up and leave so I could establish myself (big city ways and all) within the organization. Now that he's back, he has to get to know the me people have been used to for the past three months. I'm not radical or anything (well, not to me), but in the few weeks prior to his return, people have been dropping little hints that Jeff will have some adjusting to do in regards to my personality (equal parts Patti Simcox and Cha Cha DiGregorio), my approach to stubborn people (I usually advise others to stick their foot up their hind parts to promote mobility...in a manner of speaking) and fun in the workplace (more, please!).  
It's been fun as he tries to figure me out. There was the  the day I wore red lipstick to our first one on one meeting and I had to watch him not focus on it. The same for last night when I wore super fun pink lipstick (Milani Lip Flash-they have the best colors!) when I met with our department’s board last night to talk about my current projects.I’m not being unprofessional in my lipstick choices; they actually look very nice and are balanced with hardly any eye makeup and a sensible outfit. They just add that something extra that most people here aren’t used to having.
Today I was talking to Pat in her office updating her about my life (she didn’t know about Ted!) and sharing my theory about how I make Jeff nervous when he walks in (with no way of having heard me) on his way to a meeting when he spies my shoes (3-inch black Madeline Stuart platform stiletto Mary Janes-the strap totally makes them work appropriate)immediately gets flustered and manages to spit out “I-I think you need to add a few more inches to those shoes.”  I am sure his tone was meant to be laced with sarcasm (or possibly ridicule), but I just responded "I just might." He then took a breath and stammered while asking Pat to borrow a pen for his meeting (he couldn't think of the word so he just pointed at her desk). OK, I guess I do make him stammer…I just hope I don’t make him wet himself. That. Would be embarrassing.
Before you start to suggest obvious reasons why I make him nervous, you should know that this man is so priestly it is not even funny so that is not an option. (I know what you are thinking, Chesarae…so just stop!)
I just think that I am so different from just about everyone in Terre Haute that the shock of me is no new for him that I might have to endure his uncertainty and confusion well into the New Year. My only hope is that he actually takes the time to get to know me beyond the lipstick and the heels and realize made a good choice in hiring me and that maybe I am exactly what Terre Haute and our organization needs. For starters, I bake awesome peppermint cookies that I am bringing  to the Christmas party next week and aside from my knowledge, experience and the compassion needed to do my job well, I have potential to open others up to new things. I mean, I can probably single-handedly stimulate the economy here with the cosmetic and shoe sales I am sure to inspire, and being the best dancer at St. Bernadette’s I can teach everyone the Hand Jive.
Doesn’t get any better than that, Jeff. You’d better recognize!

Monday, December 5, 2011

"Viva La Fluffy!" or "I Had A Date!"

Fluffy didn't die in vain.

Fluffy is what I named the squirrel I ran over with my car. He taught me a lot, that Fluffy, but the most important lesson I took from his death was that I have to take more risks. So I did and this is what happened:

Last night I went to church with Sassy and the kids and although I made a point to get my Jesus on, I was also scoping the crowd to find that guy, Ted I met a few weeks back. He seemed cute enough and possibly interested in talking to me again, but every time our paths crossed I could not seem to get him alone. After mass, I was hesitating, trying to find a way to stick around and look for him but not be to obvious (c'mon ladies, you know what that's like!) and it didn't look like he was in church so we walked across the street to the parking lot, but Sassy sensed ,my hesitation. I told her that I was looking for Ted and I was going to try to hang out with him. Sassy, amazing friend that she is urged me to stick around while she took the kids home (love her!). I crossed the street (Fluffy would be so proud!) and started a conversation with some people I know in front of the church. Lo and Behold, Ted was one of the last people to walk out! I remained engaged in the conversation I was having all while being very conscious of what he was doing and where he was going...in the most unstalkerly way possible. At some point, I saw him see me and track my movements (I swear, I could hear the national geographic narrator guy in the background) and we started  the conversation square dance. When my conversation ended, his hadn't so I grabbed someone else to talk to  and then I saw him do the same thing! After a few minutes of changing partners and do-si-do-ing we finally ended up facing each other. We exchanged pleasantries and then I said, "I am really hungry, I have to go home and figure out what to do for dinner." (Hint to Ted: Let's go for a bite to eat. Right. Now.) Smart man that he is said "Well, I am hungry too. Do you want to go to dinner with me?' Let me think..."Hells yea!"
So we got into my car and went to the Ruby Tuesday by the mall, because we do live in Terre Haute. We had good food and good conversation and learned that we had a lot of things in common and he appreciated my sense of humor!

I don't quite want to call it a date, because it was dutch and I drove and it happened so fast, I didn't have time to make sure I was still cute or put makeup on, but obviously I was foxy enough to ask out on the spot. Sassy and I call it a quasi-date, because he did ask, we were both a little nervous and I haven't had a date in embarrassingly long time so I am just going to male this count.

On the way back to his car he mentioned that he usually goes to mass with two other friends and afterward they go dinner and I am invited to come next week, I said that sounded like a plan and we said our goodbyes.

I don't know if I have butterflies and I am not like Sally Brown, trying to make Ted my "Sweet Babboo," but I know that I was kinda giddy when I drove straight to Sassy's house to give her all of the details and next Sunday I am gonna make damn sure I look super cute...for Jesus, of course! Who knows what this will or won't turn into, but I am proud of myself for taking a risk (that paid off) and put myself out there for the first time in a long time. Go me!

So no, Fluffy didn't die in vain. Thanks to him, even though I will still be sure to look both ways, I am most definitely going to make crossing the street a priority.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Dinner, the swiss way

A few nights ago Sassy had an appointment and I hung out with her kids while she was out. I was running a bit late to get to her house so I was kind of frazzled after making apologies and saying goodbye, the kids and I settled into a night of fun. They drew pictures, watched "Friday" on my phone (it is just so awesomely bad and it takes the right kind of kid to know that!), and played a few board games.


While playing Don't Break the Ice, I pulled out an orange and Sassy's daughter said "Hey! That's not fair!" I was like "Why? Did you guys want some of my orange?" I cut it up thinking about how the kids were comfortable enough to call me on my rudeness-- I should have offered them some. I gave them orange slices which they shoved in their mouths and smiled at me. We continued playing our game and moved onto Othello. I have never played Othello before and Sassy's son taught me. It is a fun game and I had a blast with the kids, but am unsure if an 8 year old's interpretation of the rules will do me any good when playing with adults. (Note to self: have a peer teach me Othello) While his sister and I were playing he asked for dessert. Because I am the world's best sitter, I looked at the clocked (25 minutes before bedtime) and realized that the next day they didn't have school and I said "Sure." They each grabbed a package of those Little Debbie Swiss Rolls and munched happily while we finished the game.

When the time came, they got ready for bed, we read stories and I tucked them in. Sassy came home about an hour later and we hung out for a bit. We were sitting at the kitchen table having a snack and I told her about our night and the kids calling me on my rudeness with the orange. "They ate an orange?" She said, "they never eat oranges for me!" That was when she asked what the kids had for dinner. With what I am sure face a face full of bewilderment, I asked "Umm..didn't you feed them?" This is usually the part of the night where Child Protective Services is called and I am locked up fro malnourishment of minors. Fortunately for me, Sassy is super cool and listens while I explain that they never told me they were hungry and they just asked for dessert and I gave them swiss rolls. "Did you make them share a package?" My lack of eye contact answered her question. I am on fire, Terre Haute, call me for your child care needs!

Just when I thought all hope was lost and I would be looking for new friends, Sassy just cracked up laughing and I joined in. We laughed for a very long times about kids that most likely went to bed hungry under my care. I went home that night comforted by the fact that although her kids might wake up in the morning completely ravenous, she would still be my friend.

The next morning, I received the following text messages from Sassy:
message 1: First word: We had swiss rolls for dinner.
message 2: If u don't know what swiss rolls are, it sounds ok.

Call 1.800.BABYSIT for quality child care and be sure to request me.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Fine! I didn't want to feed you anyway!

Yesterday I had the opportunity to do a service project with some local teenagers. We made and delivered boxes of food for Thanksgiving to families in need. I had to deliver the boxes to the avenues. The avenues are in a less desirable part of town and let's just say that the people that live there are not open to diversity.  I have said it before, I don't see many people of color in Terre Haute and even though we have  a black president, I am well aware racism isn't dead...people just hide it better.

After completely getting lost I arrived at my first house and knocked on the door. Dogs started barking and after a few seconds they were shushed and I saw curtains move out of the corner of my eye. I waited for the resident to open to door...and then waited some more. I knocked again, the dogs barked again and were shushed again and still no one came to the door. I held back my frustration as I made my way back to car and figured out what to do next but all I could do was sit in my car and cry.

I was sick to my stomach by what had just happened and thought maybe I should have brought the food with me to the door and maybe she would have answered. That way I could have spent the rest of my day unaware of the hate someone had for me just because of the color of my skin. That, I knew would just be putting a band aid in a problem that existed long before I moved to Terre Haute and long before I was born. Instead of dwelling in this, I left a note letting them know who to call to arrange to pick up their basket though I really wanted to let them now where they could go.

This wasn't the first time something like this has happened since I have been here. The most recent time when I was signing up for a class with my friend Sassy and she was asked for her information to join a birthday club. When it was my turn, the lady took my payment for the class and was ready to send me on my way and when I asked about the birthday club she looked at me like I asked to borrow her toothbrush and said "I guess you can" and reluctantly handed over a pen. I thought I'd imagined that, but Sassy shot me look letting me know she was equally shocked and disgusted by what had taken place. Instead of crying about something like that, Sassy and I cracked up over the cashier's ignorance.

Sadly, the tears I cried in my car were not the only tears I cried over this lady and her family and I hated that  because I know racist don't deserve my tears, only my pity. It is a shame that woman and her family robbed themselves of the opportunity to see me for more than my color and eventually they will see that they are missing out on more than just their Thanksgiving dinner.

Friday, November 18, 2011

My First Kill

My hands are still shaking as I write this. I never thought I would be a murderer, but all it takes is one kill. I took a life and I kept going with the shock and sadness sitting inside me. I screamed out loud once I started to process my actions and I called my sister right away. Upon hearing the sadness in my voice, she became concerned and the was when I made my confession. “Misha,” I said, “I killed a squirrel.” And while I was struggling to hold back tears she laughed out loud. OUT LOUD! "I think you will be fine,” she said. I knew I wouldn't and I explained that to her. I saw the squirrel run in front of my car when it was too late to swerve and I felt my car roll over the poor creature and I am so sad that because of me, it won't make it home. She listened, sighed and told me if I still feel bad in the morning that I should turn myself in. Jerk.

I have seen a good share of roadkill in my life and have even driven over a squirrel carcass or two, but this was different. In the city, our squirrels are street smart, they know not to run out into the street. They were happy to stay on the sidewalk where it is safe and I would not be surprised to see one cross at the light! In Terre Haute, these squirrels act like they have no cares in the world. They just run across roads putting our lives in their hands and trusting us humans not to murder them.. No wonder there is so much roadkill in this town.

The adventurous side of me knows that I ran across state lines without a care in the world to this town. In my city, I knew where I could go to stay safe and when I could make a move. In Terre Haute, I don't know where safe is and I have spent the last few months completely freaked about getting run over that I haven't yet bothered to cross the street. I spend my free time in my apartment or on my friend Sassy's couch. She was the only person I knew when I moved here and we became fast friends. As much as I love the friend I have found in her, Sassy can't be the only person I have here. I am a little nervous that I might be rejected for being so different that I will not only get run over, but my assailants will keep moving with no regard for me and the life I am starting here.

It was that poor squirrel that took a risk, no matter how unsuccessful, that  the key to surviving life here may be knowing  when and where it safe to cross, but I should also take a chance. I feel that for others the initial excitement of my newness is starting to wear off and my “big city” way of thinking and doing is less exciting and for me, I am beginning to see others for who they are during our interactions and it is starting to feel they are getting in my way. I think part of it is that they don't really understand me and I haven't been open to them knowing who I am. I have been a bit guarded, stubborn and afraid to get hit that I have been unwilling to open my eyes long enough to see if where I am is a safe place to cross.

Terre Haute is my new city and it is up to me to make it safe for myself. As much as I miss my hometown, I realize it is up to me to figure out how to open myself up a bit more to what this town has to over and take more risks...well smarter risks than that poor squirrel. So now I have goals: To take risks, find where safe is and to cross the street once in a while while praying someone doesn't come barrelling down the road at the absolute wrong time.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Thrifty Retail Therapy

Ok, so I moved here a little over two months ago and while I have been trying to find my way around and find things to do that are me I have been clinging to my old standard of thrift store shopping. I should let you know that I love thrift stores! I firmly believe that in today's economical and ecological climate, thrift stores will be our saving grace and as a green reccesionista I make a point to seek out a good thrift store whenever I go out of town  and now whenever I move to a different town. Thrift stores are all the same but different and going into a thrift store allows me to feel less intimidated with a new place because you kind of already know what to expect when you walk in. You know you are going to find more than a few ugly sweaters, lamps, old furniture and if you're lucky that hideously cool, awesomely bad piece of art that you might just be able to make work.

When I first moved here I was overwhelmed. Terre Haute was nothing like the metropolis I come from. You have to drive if you want to get anywhere, I rarely see anyone of color and worst of all...the nearest Target is an hour away! So, for the first few weeks when I felt like I was going to burst into tears over this huge life change, and in response to the advice a friend who told me to find something to do that made me still feel like me I drove to one of the thrift stores in town and got lost in the racks of clothing and shelves full of tchotckes. I am embarrassed to admit that within the first month of my being here I visited a thrift store at least 5 times a week and I have a lot of random hideously cool things to show for it (e.g. my ceramic blue victorian boot in my bathroom that holds my makeup brushes)!

Last night I was feeling overwhelmed. I had a long day at work and it looks like the first big project that I got to be a part of might be cut. After my meeting, I drove to what I have to say is the most shoppable Goodwill I have been to in my life (600 South Third St. Terre Haute, IN) and engaged in some retail therapy...reccesionista style! After going through the racks and finding beautiful sweaters and skirts and two beautiful vintage coats I feel much better and the $32 I paid for all of it cost a whole hell of a lot less than a shrink!

To answer your question, yes. I am well aware that buying other people's cast offs won't help me cope with the fact I up and moved to Indiana and the reasons I felt I had to leave (that, my friends, is another post!), but I know that for now it is really great to feel like I can still do things that make me fell like myself as I adjust to this town. This new adventure of mine seemed a lot less strange when I formed a temporary friendship with the lady looking at coats next to me. The sting of the newness of things is quelled just a bit when I feel like I have won because some lady's old coat fits my body and my personality just right. Thrift stores are a constant in life that serve to remind you someone has been there before. That someone had the same taste as you, the same body type as you or maybe even the same zany sense of humor as you and that is when you start to feel a little less alone in this world.

I may not exactly be appreciative of all of the things in my life now, but I do appreciate the sense of solidarity I feel with the super hip chick that donated the electric blue knit coat and I encourage her to continued support of Goodwill's mission.