What a name, Grace. I didn't even name her. My apartment neighbors in 2000 found her (she found them) and named her.
I can't believe that she's not here. I've been thinking about going back home and being around my family and friends again, about having all of my books and personal belongings again, about having a car again. And every time I get on that train of thought, I always picture Gracie with me again, like she's something that I left behind and can get back.
I don't like Texas weather. I don't like Texas politics. I don't like how Texas looks. Yet I'm going crazy up here by myself.
When I was a kid, my dad was in the Air Force and so we moved all the time. I didn't form attachments. I actually liked moving around and the concept of a "fresh start" each time.
I lived in Austin for 23 years, though, after age 18. I do have some "attachments" there.
WHAT IS THE RIGHT THING TO DO??? Wait it out here in New Jersey/NYC? Pissing away $1500 per month in rent for a place I'd be paying $800 for in Texas? I never thought about or cared about money before I got here. I always had enough to get by, and to buy a few extras. But for the past 2 years that I've been up here, I've been, for the most part, poor as shit. I want, not necessarily a flat-screen TV, but a TV manufactured post-2000. I want a computer that's not 10 years old, as mine is. I want some fucking new clothes. I want an iPod to play my music on. That's not being shallow, that's just base-level ACCOUTREMENTS, goddammit.
I can't stand being 43 and having to scrape by. "Scraping by" was somewhat interesting up until age 35, maybe, while I experimented with my life, but now it's just horrible and distressing and depressing. And pissing away $1500 a month in rent is just insane.
(Gee, but NYC is so pretty... And I love the Fall, and the snow...)
I'm so angry and confused and torn right now.
Right now, here is what I'm living: Unemployed in a part of the country that I like greatly but that I have no living connection to. Missing the dead cat that I won't ever have again. Missing the 2008-2009 reincarnation of a woman from a 20-year-old poetry class that I won't ever have again.
Everything is all murky and loveless and fucked up.