Both ends of my daily life are now enclosed by gates. Here at Chez Nichols West we live inside a gated community. We have to “badge” our way onto the grounds. While there is some feeling of security from this, it does beg the question: security from what?
At work there are also gates segregating the public parking from the employee parking. Not only do I have to badge my way onto the grounds, I have to badge my way past the exterior door to the building.
I’m not sure what it says that we now live our lives in secure facilities. The world is certainly a scarier place than I remember growing up, or even as a young adult out on my own. The building where I work has fairly comprehensive plans for situations that may require “locking down” access even further. That they’ve even thought of a plan for dealing with a “security incident” is perhaps a good thing, but it also a sign of the times.
The current administration would have you believe that their efforts are making the world a safer place for all of us. I’m not sure this is true. I know for certain that I wasn’t living behind bars four years ago when the current government was selected over our popular vote.
We have been living in Overland Park, a southern suburb of Kansas City, for just over a week now. As expected the trauma of moving and the shock of the transition from a house to an apartment is taking a toll. Nothing huge, but we’ve each had periods of depression at the loss we are experiencing.
This weekend we’ve taken several hours each day to explore our new surroundings. What we’ve discovered, affirmed really, is that KC is a collection of smaller communities. Some of these are very pretty and quaint. Some of the neighborhoods closer to downtown are beautiful, filled with nice homes and large shade trees.
The restaurant selection is huge, and while it seems counter-intuitive, no where near as crowded as the few choices Springfield offered. With more to choose from, a LOT more, no one is the hot spot. We’ve enjoyed trying new places and getting away from the old standards.
My work is slowly taking shape. Like all new jobs they were in a big hurry to get me started so I could sit and twiddle my thumbs for a week while an assignment was crafted for me to complete. Hopefully the second week will be better, maybe I’ll even get a workstation of my very own. At least I already have a desk and a phone.
We are preparing for the arrival of the rest of our household belongings next Saturday. We are going to rent a storage locker down the road for the overflow. Moving from 1800 square feet to just over 1000 means there isn’t enough room. Period. Our plan is to rent a U-Haul (gaa!) and have the movers transfer those items we know will be stored straight from their truck to ours. Less work for us that way. It will be a long couple of days sorting out our home, but it will be very nice to have furniture again.
Today was my first day of work after being out of work for 99 days. It felt good and scary at the same time. This has been by far the longest stretch of time I’ve not worked since I graduated from college. Even though we had the specter of unemployment hanging over our heads, we managed to have a lot of fun together in the past three months.
In some ways I feel more relaxed and peaceful than I have in longer than I can remember. In others I am still tense and worried about the future. Moving was difficult and painful emotionally. Neither of us wanted to leave our home in Illinois. Driving away was tearful and full of sadness.
Circumstances forced us to leave separately and at different times. In order to ensure we got the keys to our apartment before the office here closed, Michele had to leave almost 2 1/2 hours before I was able to leave. I can only imagine from my own experience making the long 350 mile drive alone, how difficult it was for her to make this emotional split from our house and pool.
We are relying on my parents who live just an hour away from our house there, to coordinate the removal of some furniture we’ve sold or given away. They are also going to oversee the packing and loading of out stuff by Allied in ten days. We could return there this weekend for the long holiday and tend to some things ourselves, but that would mean returning to our house. And since we’ve removed the computers, and our bed, and other prized belongings, it won’t really be our house anymore. The scab that is slowly starting to form over the wound of losing our house will only get ripped open again. So we are opting to stay away. I doubt we’ll even drive by when we return there for the closing.
I must admit I am slightly worried about the condition of the pool. We were so careful to keep it pristine and clear. I’ve hired the neighbor boy to tend it for us; his family has a pool and I believe it’ll be okay. Still, have the pool turn green on us won’t speed up the selling process. There is little I can do about it from here now, so I must have faith in the trust I placed in the neighbors.
We are slowly adjusting to our new apartment. I suppose it is nice enough, with an attached garage and all. But after living in houses for six years, a return to communal living is a rude shock. Hopefully this place will feel more like ours when the rest of our belongings arrive.
I’m glad to be working again. That piece of stress is now removed from my load. Maybe I can sleep through the night peacefully now.
We are moving. This morning we confirmed our new apartment address, setup utilities, telephone, and the all important broadband internet. We’ve got a small truck reserved for tomorrow, and will be loading enough stuff on it to allow us to set up housekeeping for the next two weeks, while we wait for Allied to bring the rest of our stuff on July 10th.
Have our own domains makes the internet portion of our move rather seamless, our e-mails will continue to come (although I’d like to fake out the 300+ spams I get every day). Having our own routers and cable modem means we should be online again tomorrow evening. Nice.
This will be the forth cross-country move Michele and I have made since getting married, and five if you count the one she made to Illinois from Colorado. Each move had its own flavor, but generally we’ve learned how to make the process smoother and easier on ourselves. This move will be made without a stay in a motel in the middle. We’ll sleep in our own bed tonight, take it apart in the morning, and reassemble it tomorrow afternoon in Overland Park. Very nice.
Posting maybe a bit sporadic as we adjust to our new home and circumstances.
For some weeks now I have been sitting on an offer of work in Kansas City. It was the first, and is still the only, offer I’ve generated in over three months of looking. Because it is located in a city I had never before considered it was hard initially to generate any enthusiasm for going there. Because it was not a position that would allow us to keep our home here it was hard to envision us moving and being happy.
In the days since that offer was first made I’ve managed to generate interest from several other potential employers, none however have made an offer yet. I managed to have myself bid on three different state contracts. Two of those have now gone to someone else. The most recent only this morning. With only one iron left in the state fire I feel like that future is slipping away.
The other opportunities were through a large, multi-national consulting company. One contract possibility was put on hold until mid-August. There is no guarantee I’d get the spot then, and it is too far off for me to safely wait. Another was for a position that would require my drive close to 170 miles a day in order to be home at night. I passed. The final option is still pending. It will allow me to work from home four days a week and only be on site one day each week. I am hoping for this position, but I have no way of knowing if I’ll be selected. Interviews have yet to happen and I fear that the longer it takes the less likely my chances are.
I’ve always believed that when one door is closed another is opened. When the door on my contract closed in March it seemed like there were no open doors anywhere. I spent eight solid weeks searching and calling and not finding anything. Then a single door opened. After so much emotional battering I was leery and hesitant. I didn’t immediately walk through but I have allowed my self to look at the space beyond and I know we’ll be okay there.
I managed to open some other doors in the last month, but now I’m not so sure that I opened them, or just pried them apart long enough to build false hope. All but two of the additional doors has now been closed. The remaining two are good opportunities and they would each allow us to stay here.
On Monday I’ll take the first steps through the open door in Kansas. It maybe that we’ll like the feeling there enough to let go of staying here. It maybe that I’ll be made an offer to come back here and walk through a door here. That would mean my shutting the door in Kansas City.
I feel like the guy in the fable who is faced with several doors. One leads to safety and salvation, the others may lead to safety and may lead to disaster.
This week has been a new experience in letting go for me. I spent considerable time sifting through more than fifty boxes of stuff in our garage, preparing for a potential move.
We have a 3-bay garage, with generous shelf space in the main portion, and a virtual storage locker, with more shelves in the separate third bay. The shelves were full to capacity, and the stall of the third bay was jammed with old exercise equipment, bicycles, boxes, and junk. Some of the boxes have been packed since we moved in 1998; packed since then and moved three times.
It was time to let go. Letting go is not something my family practices, so it is not something I grew up doing. My parents have lived in the same house for 43 years now, it is filled with a lifetime’s collection of books, records, old papers, and the scraps of life that we all seem to collect. My family doesn’t let go emotionally either. My sister’s death over thirty years ago still looms large and unattended in the corner of every room where we gather. Somehow over time I learned to equate the idea of letting go of possessions as a trauma best avoided at all costs.
However, from the martial arts, and in my recent spiritual quest, I have learned that you must clean house, you must make room for newness in your life, unless you want to be trapped with only the old. You must “empty your cup” in order to fill it again.
So I sifted and categorized over forty boxes of books, and perhaps a dozen other boxes of stuff this week. Today we loaded up a cargo van and took a few hundred pounds of junk to the dump. And this afternoon we donated shoes, and kitchen items, fans, and other small household items to Goodwill.
I had originally planned on selling the books I could bring myself to part with to a used book store. Only the woman in charge was rude and dismissive. I know there was no earthly way for her to understand the emotional space I had come to in order to part with these books, but her abruptness and unwillingness to acknowledge my effort pissed me off. I stormed out of the store wanting to take my books home again. I didn’t want to let go under these circumstances. After a few minutes of cooling off I decided to donate the books as well.
I was able to let go the anger I had for the smallness of the used book store owner. And I was able to let go of over 900 pounds of books at the Goodwill store. Now someone less fortunate, someone unlikely to visit a used book store might find a good book to read. I like that.
Letting go, it turns out, is a very good thing.
President Johnson lied about an attack in the Tonkin Gulf and escalated the United States’ involvement in Vietnam ultimately resulting in the deaths of 3,000,000 or more Vietnamese, and over 55,000 Americans.
President Nixon lied about an attempt to break into Democratic National Headquarters and ultimately resigned from office rather than face impeachment.
President Ford was, and still is, the only man to hold the office of president without benefit of an election.
President Carter had the great misfortune to hold office when the US installed government in Iran was toppled, and Americans were held hostage for over 400 days.
President Reagan lied about arms for hostage deals, and generally aided and abetted the massacre of thousands of citizens in Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Haiti.
President Bush I rode a wave of popularity after building a world wide coalition to oust Iraq from Kuwait. Luckily he wasn’t able to get himself re-elected.
President Clinton lied about having sex and was impeached by the House of Representatives.
President Bush II lied about the imminent threat of weapons of mass destruction, including nuclear, in a State of the Union Address, over saw the worst attack on American soil in history, lied about a connection between Iraq and al Qaeda, refuses to acknowledge solders who died in his illegal war off occupation in Iraq. And he continues to lie in the face of the 9/11 Commissions report finding no connection between Iraq and al Qaeda.
And what is scarier than the history of our Presidents is the fact that the conservative arm of the Republican party now control 28 governorships, a majority of state legislatures, the US House, and the US Senate. And they aren’t going away.
I’ve made a couple of slight appearance changes to zanshin.net. The font justification has been switched from justify to left, now the right margin will flow naturally. I’ve also switched the secondary font from Tohoma to Verdana.
Boredom is a horrible thing indeed.
Dr. Lawrence Britt has examined the fascist regimes of Hitler (Germany), Mussolini (Italy), Franco (Spain), Suharto (Indonesia) and several Latin American regimes. Britt found 14 defining characteristics common to each. I’ve added a column for the United States so we can keep score.
In his seminal protest song, “Alice’s Restaurant Massacre,” Arlo Guthrie talks about getting fingerprinted, and having the results enshrined in a folder somewhere at the FBI.
Today I was fingerprinted as part of getting a security clearance for a new job. Since I’m not under arrest or anything I doubt my prints will be enshrined anywhere in particular. So I’ll post them here for posterity.
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