Sense of Place

I haven't been on the bike since the setback. My ass still hurts, especially when I change positions. Getting out of chairs is the worst. I think that because I sit on one side of my ass or the other to avoid putting direct pressure on my tailbone, I'm developing other problems. My lower back is sore, my shoulders have been sore, my neck is sore. Thank you for coming to my pity party.

Despite the pain, I've been moving this weekend. For the past two-and-a-half years, I've lived in a little garage apartment in the Sunset Heights area of Houston. I moved in after a breakup - I'd been living with someone for 18 months, it didn't work out, I moved out and ended up here. It was supposed to be a transitional home - a place to stay until I bought a home. I didn't expect to stay so long, and I didn't expect to fall in love with this little apartment and this neighborhood and my life since I've been living here. Other than my the home in which I grew up, I've lived here longer than anywhere else. I am so sad about leaving.

The past few weeks, I feel like I've been breaking up with my apartment. I'm spending less time here (much to the chagrin of my dogs who are feeling abandoned), I haven't been cleaning up, I'm overcome with tears frequently. It truly feels like a breakup. I've gone through breakups where I stayed friends with the guy, and I've gone through breakups where the guy disappears from my life. Leaving this little home feels like the latter - I don't think I'll ever see it again. I have been really happy here, and I equate that happiness with being here.

I'm the type of person who falls in love with a place. It could be a home or a town or a restaurant or even a hotel room. I don't know why I fall in love with places. One of my coworkers just moved out of her house where she raised her four children. The house screams out the memories she has, and yet she admitted not being sad about leaving. I don't get that. In 2001, I spent three weeks in Paris in a little dorm room while I was a student in an international law program. I was very happy there. A few weeks later, I returned to Paris, and the first thing I did was walk down Saint Germain and I stood in front of the dorm and just thought about the good times I had there and the people I met. Seven years later I returned to Paris, and I did the same thing. I imagine if I ever return to Paris, I'll take a walk down Saint Germain and relive those memories. The past two years I've spent a few days in Palm Springs. I stayed in the same hotel room both times!

Last night I brought home a good bottle of wine and a frozen pizza - I wanted to have a going-away party of sorts. It was a gift to this home. I got drunk and ate too much and watched 'Sordid Lives' - that's so gay, I know. Today, I moved out most of my stuff other than some furniture - the movers will take the furniture tomorrow. I'm here again tonight without my pictures and books and clothes and DVDs and everything else other than the large furniture and the dogs, and I'm just so damned sad. I dread leaving tomorrow for the last time.

My next home truly is a transitional home. It belongs to my ex. He's renting it to me until he sells it or until I buy a home. I hope it's not long.

That's it. I think I'll go to bed now.