IRL friends and family, check out my private blog at kristenmartin503@wordpress.com.
General
A Long December (2020)
Major hat tip to Counting Crows. (This is one of my all-time favorite songs.)
A long December
And there’s reason to believe
Maybe this life will get better in ‘21
I can’t remember the last fun that we had before the lockdown
Now the days blend into one
And it’s one more day of the pandemic
And it’s one more night in quarantine
If you think that we should get together … wish we could
Na na na na, na na na na na na na na na
The sound of restaurants and bars
Glasses clinking and enjoyment of companions over food
Suddenly you think about your favorite spot
And miss the freedom and some lightness in the mood
And it’s one more day of the pandemic
And it’s one more night in quarantine
I know you really want to travel … please stay home
Na na na na, na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na, yeah
Checked up on news headlines first thing in the morning
Felt sorrow and despair about the year
Isolation makes you feel a little lower
Makes you wish that this was over, that the virus would spread slower
And it’s been a long December
And there’s reason to believe
Maybe some new kind of normal will return
I’d like to forget all the suffering inflicted
And how Trump just let it burn
And it’s one more day of the pandemic
And it’s one more night in quarantine
In your sorrow and your cabin fever … you’re not alone
Na na na na, na na na na na na na na na
Na na na na, yeah
Notice
There have been jobs I have quit with inward glee because I was tired of dealing with some aspect: micro-management, terrible processes, unnecessary stress. The workplace I am leaving tomorrow has none of those things. Since I gave notice almost two weeks ago, I’ve been in something like a depression. It is mixed with denial, so I suppose it’s part of a grieving process, which came as a surprise since I’ve never gotten this sensation from quitting a job. I’ve also never worked at the same place for six years, until now.
This organization has allowed me to grow into new areas of expertise and pursue a career change from quality assurance to business analysis. My team members have become friends—sometimes very good friends. They supported me when I left to have a baby and celebrated my return. No questions were asked when I needed to take time off for mental health reasons. I have felt valued and at ease. I’ve laughed at work and been able to make stupid jokes without getting too many weird looks.
I even met my life partner at this job, which I suspect is one of the deeper and thus harder to understand reasons for my sense of impending loss. Since he no longer works here, I’ve been keeping that part of our history alive, and maintaining a sort of emotional bridge between him and the former co-workers he was fond of. Cutting that off will not measurably affect our lives, but it feels significant somehow.
I haven’t cried yet, partly because I don’t want to get too emotional at work, but mostly because it doesn’t feel real. The goodbyes will happen soon, and that part always hits me; I don’t like it when co-workers leave. But then Monday morning comes around, and everyone moves on.
News of 2015
First, I’m sorry for my absence over the past six months. Life has been busy, and thankfully mostly with good things. Since the year is coming to a close, a retrospective seems an appropriate way to ease back into the blogging habit. Let’s talk about the developments of 2015.
New Home
After six years of living in Southeast Portland, and five years of commuting over the Ross Island Bridge, I decided to shake things up. I moved across the river and downsized from a 650-square foot apartment, with basement storage, to a much more expensive 460-square foot studio, with no extra storage, on the edge of Downtown. It felt like time to try a more urban (and, one might say, upscale) living environment. There are some things I love about it—secured entry, fitness room—and some things I don’t—expensive parking, street noise. By May of next year I’ll need to decide if the high costs are still worth it.
New Relationship
It’s very rare that I can say I’m still involved with the same person I was seeing twelve or thirteen months ago. This was a year of persistence and luck in the relationship department. I was in love with a reticent man who didn’t make himself completely available even as we spent time together; my friends said that I should cut it off. But I knew I didn’t want that. Instead, I learned how to be patient and let a relationship develop over time. He gradually let me into his heart and started taking good care of mine. We continue to have fun together and grow closer.
New Bruises
My bike riding continued to be hampered by leg problems this year. I finally accepted the fact that stretching alone wasn’t helping, so I went to a physical therapist. He persuaded me to have an eight-session course of ASTYM therapy, in which my left leg was scraped with curved-edge plastic tools all the way from hip to calf, in order to break up tissues that had adhered together over three years. For a few weeks, my leg looked as if I’d had rocks thrown at it. I have since been tasked with regular strengthening and stretching exercises to rebuild those muscles. My next step might have to be hiring a personal trainer to get me to stick to that regimen, as I have failed so far.
New Pilgrimage
I so thoroughly enjoyed my visit to New York City this year that I aspire to make it an annual trip. It’s begun to feel like a necessary “fix” for me to get immersed in that fascinating hive of people for five to six days at a time. As long as I keep finding affordable airfare and continue to have friends’ couches to sleep on, I plan to go there again and again.
Happy New Year!
There You Are
First, the trappings of my life were wrapped up and stored in boxes. A subset of things was packed away to keep with me when traveling. I started eating more takeout than usual, and resting things on the top of sealed boxes instead of on the furniture I’d either moved aside or sold. My cats were getting worried about their changing environment. Then, I left town for a week and returned to my half-home for one more night’s sleep. The next day, the cats were locked into the bathroom while I was reaching peak stress levels throughout the apartment and beyond, organizing last-minute items and giving instructions to the friends who came over to help me move. I was amazed at how many possessions were left after one yard sale, trips to two different recycling centers, one carload to the landfill, four thrift-store donations, and several Craigslist sales. The ten-foot U-Haul almost looked like it couldn’t take everything, which I’d thought impossible when moving into a studio apartment. But it carried out the job after some masterful strategy on the part of my friends-cum-movers.
All that effort for a drive of four miles to my new apartment on Portland’s West side. My judgment on getting rid of things turned out to be pretty sound. Surprised as I was by the volume of stuff I had, I’ve been even more startled by how well everything has fit into a studio apartment that I feared would be too small for comfort. It feels just right for a home base: comfortable and welcoming when I want to be here, and not gathering too much dust when I’m out on the town or traveling. The building is full of urban conveniences that I’ve never had in a home before, like controlled entry, a parking garage (which lets my car and bike live indoors, at last!), and a trash and recycling room right down the hall. My commute to work feels ten times easier without having to cross any bridges over the Willamette.
Only some superficial items are left to unpack here. I am free to use my time in fulfilling ways now, like picking up some of those good habits I was starting to establish in my old home on a quiet street with a gym nearby. It’s hard to bounce back from a big disruption to your routine, especially when that routine felt a little tenuous to begin with. “Wherever you go, there you are.” That’s an idea I have been struggling with and will have to delve into another time.
Cascade Wallflower 