Ruth K's Musings and Madness Blog: Volume II

I finally experienced my first proper New York rain. Got absolutely DRENCHED. It was exceptional.

I'd had a friend from Boston come stay the weekend, the very first guest to grace this new place. Another milestone towards home. It had been raining since the middle of the night (still wasn't sleeping yet, woohoo), and we'd even gotten a severe weather alert: flood warning. This naturally inspired us to venture out like intrepid city-dwellers do for some underground tea and a second story Chinese feast in which my fishy meal watched me eat him--and he was delicious I feel no remorse. Rain has always brought me comfort, a kind of peace. That day, wandering the streets, there was a strange sort of elated peace in my soul, despite being soaked to the bone. It felt exciting, but naturally so. It felt like I belonged there.

The growing pains linger, but the growth itself feels beautiful. Every day there is a new addition to the house that makes it feel like home. My absurd (meaning totally awesome) collection of throw pillows for the daybed couch. Pieces of art I actually created for our walls. Pots and pans, knives, plates my grandmother gave me, a corningware dish from my mother. These things are just that, just things. Material goods, who needs more of those, right? Turns out, I do. Maybe moving is all about stuff. Owning a house is all about having a place to put your stuff (thank you father for showing me that comedy bit.) But what's struck me most about that is just how much your home needs your stuff to be a home. Your art, your pillows and blankets, your dishes and fridge magnets and books. Maybe that's the capitalist consumer disease in me. Then again, maybe it's just a truth we've stopped owning up to. Even the minimalist among us have the hallmark pieces of their lives somewhere. Me, I am no minimalist. I am a collector. I collect art supplies, and art, and art disguised as a sushi roll plushie pillow. You know, like normal people do.

Well, I say that as a joke, but I challenge you to look at the stuff in your house, and find your plush sushi roll equivalent, and let it make you happy today. Let it remind you how nice it feels to have it in your home. How nice it is that the home is yours.

You won't see me talk much about my new job here, until a new new job comes into play, so I'll just get it all out of the way now. It's a service industry job where we dress up in identical clothing and carry trays of expensive food that could feed entire families but instead gets thrown out when the rich people don't eat it. It makes me angry. But it makes me money. And yes, it's true what they say about city living and the cost. So I'll make my money and pay my rent and thank the dark eldritch gods or Hera or whomever I fancy that day for the fact that I can put food on my table, and that I, too, have a home to go to at the end of it that feels more and more like mine every day. At least it does have a killer view, 12 stories up in a downtown skyscraper where the neighbors are the likes of Janet Jackson and Beyonce, the whole city surrounds you in breathtaking excess. Too bad I have to enjoy it from behind a bussing tray. Ces't la vie.

The delightful bit, the silver lining if you will, is that I have already made at least one new friend in the city. A fabulous, bright individual in the same boat I am job wise who's company eases the workday, and my mind when considering the monumental task of trying to make new connections under the immense pressure of figuring out who you are in a big, new place. And she loves dogs. And I love her dog. Enough said, right?

You know I have to say my social life has felt positively booked recently. Perhaps because I am lucky enough to have family in the city, and some college friends from a former life not lived who stuck around the area like they knew I was coming back (like the diva I am). Getting the chance to reconnect with people in my extended family whom I have always adored, but lived so far from feels like it's own reward for the hard task of leaving my close-knit family behind. What can I say, I am spoiled by this abundance of love. Another thing that can make a home, right? A whole lot of love. I have more than enough of it right here. Like I said, a little bit more every day.

Well, I think that about does it for this one. What a difference 11 days can make. Yes, this is how long it's taken me to write again. That will become the running gag of this series, I never get a piece out on time. But those of you who know me know that to be very "on brand"as the kids would say. I am consciously choosing not to go back and read previous entries until quit a bit of time passes, with the goal in mind to keep these off-the-cuff. I hope later I can track the honest experience of living this way.

So until the spirit moves me to pick up the digital quill again, I'll leave you with this: https://photos.app.goo.gl/viJJTDaWKc8YwaHR8

I finally started taking some photos. Are they good? No. But as they come in I will add them to this album, and include the link with each new entry.

Cheers, I'll see you soon.