Archive for March 2015

Gettin’ Back on Track

Alright, seriously guys. You need to get back on the wagon, because now your laziness is affecting me. I’m skipping posts because I am infected with your lazy. Fix it.

See, I’m doing it. We can muddle through, even when we have nothing to write. Except I kind of do.

I’m looking for a job, at a snail’s pace. I should be going faster, given how much I need any kind of income right now. But I’m stuck. Resigning from that last job shook me more than I thought. Once the dreams about my grandma died down, the dreams about the ranch came back. Horrible dreams where I’m blamed for constant streams of failures I am powerless to prevent. Gee, I wonder where that comes from.

Shows how selfish I am, though. The second I get any kind of closure from the death of a loved one, I go right back to feeling sorry for myself. Not that I’m dealing with that one like a champion, either.

You ever feel like you need to vent, but you don’t know what or how? That’s where I am right now. Trying to piece together the last three months, while moving forward like a healthy human being.

 

Bad News

My grandma passed away last Tuesday. It was about as peaceful as it could be with brain tumors involved. She looked around, took her last breath, and that was it. I wasn’t there. I was painting her, now my, house at the time. I like to think she would want it that way. Mom was there, and I was out bettering the family holdings. She always did like it when her family was industrious.

I don’t know how much of her was still there when she went. Brain diseases don’t just take your life, they take your identity, your soul, before they do. It’s hell to watch, but it might have been a small mercy for her. Death is probably easier to take if most of you is already gone when it happens.

I’ll remember her as a matriarch, the latest in a family line that goes back centuries. When things fell apart, she was the anchor. I learned a lot from that. She was also a hell of a penny-pincher. A lot of that spit-and-duct-tape way of life is a part of mine now, too.

I don’t think its fully hit me yet. I’ve been busy with the house, and staying busy like that puts grief on hold. I don’t like thinking about death on a good day. Seeing it stare me in the face like this fries a lot of my circuits.

The funeral is on Wednesday. It’s going to be rough.

Wet Paint

Pretty quiet week here. I’ve spent the week either getting ready to paint my new house, or actually painting my new house. Two weeks ago the only thing I knew about paint was that it was not a thing I should touch. Or have anything to do with.

Because, as we all know, if you get a drop of paint on the floor, the house will immediately burn down. Still, I won’t have a better time to do it, and no time like the present, as they say.

Doing the DIY thing is a pretty big confidence booster. In retrospect. In the moment, it was kind of just a stream of “Oh god this is expensive and I’m screwing it up so bad,” followed by a string of curse words.

But now that it’s mostly done with? Bam. it turned out well, the living room looks good, and I can take pride in something I did with my own two hands. There’s the lesson, by the way. Do stuff with your own two hands, it makes you feel better. Helps take your mind off of how crappy life can be, too. So, win-win, I guess.

-Austin

Spring Cleaning

No more letters from my grandpa, sadly. At least, none that I can find. Starting a project and then procrastinating until you forget about it is timeless, I guess.

Something strange has been going on these last two weeks. I asked my friend Kevin to help me take a look at all the work that needed to be done getting my grandma’s house, and he in turn asked his mom to come, who has a lot of experience cleaning out old houses. For the last two weeks the whole Davis family has helped me pack, move, and clean a house that has not had a deep clean in years. they asked for nothing in return, and between them and me, we’ve probably logged over a hundred hours on that old house.

I mention this because I don’t understand. I’ve always heard about this kind of generosity, but I’ve never actually encountered it before. All these favors and time and they get nothing out of it?

Well that’s not entirely true. I did give them an old chair and a veg-o-matic. But that doesn’t really cut it, I think.

It’s been a formative experience. Instructive, too. You learn how to treat others from how they treat you. nine times out of ten, that leads to folks treating each other like garbage. this is the tenth time, the time a person can draw their ideals from. A shining example that becomes the basis of how I treat people from now on.

Which really just adds on to the list of favors I owe them.