Leaving San Diego 8

Twice now I’ve set aside time to go to the storage unit and continue the progress but each time the day comes I can’t bring myself to do it. My excuse was always “No vehicle to donate stuff if I even knew what to get rid of and what to keep”. It wasn’t even confirmed that Atlanta was the destination.

So instead I just do some math. This is why we studied word problems in grade school. Z =The cost for rental truck X minus the replacement cost of personal belongings plus travel expenses to Atlanta which is Y. If Z is greater than $100 then try something else. I tried several “something elses”. How much to take an extra really large suitcase on the flight. How much to have everything shipped via UPS. The math all works out the same. The grand total value of my belongings is less than what it would cost to ship, truck or put in checked in luggage.

But then there’s the artifacts. Over the years I’ve kept souvenirs, letters, t-shirts, post cards etc. All too much to pack but I find myself really loathe to get rid of it. Most of it won’t mean anything to anyone but me. My junk has great value but as soon as it leaves my possession it’s just junk.

TV comes to my rescue. Nothing helps you getting over your own craziness like watching someone more crazy get help. What I mean by that is Hoarders. A TV show about people so obsessed with their belongings they can’t let go of anything. Even trash. I’m not that far along but it’s good to have some perspective.

If you haven’t seen the show they all follow the same basic format. Scene one we get to see the trainwreck of a home the subject lives in and we find out the crises for this person. For example the family could have the kids taken away or the landlord is threatening eviction. The next scene is the introduction of the organizer of therapist depending on the location and the clean up. Seven to eight minutes into the clean up the subject has a breakdown of some sort. I see the similarities. Where I would think of something more fun or more pressing to do to avoid the clean up our subject finds repressed memories of rape or just has a nervous breakdown. Oh the drama.

In the end a few of the homes get cleaned up but the majority don’t. The last few minutes of the show are used to explain that further counseling is needed or in the really dramatic ones the kids get taken away. I like how honest the show is and that it doesn’t try to hide the failures. I like looking at the messes too although I do find myself thinking they’re throwing away some perfectly good stuff and I fight a tiny fleeting urge to go to the rescue of a big wheel or an old Monopoly game missing some pieces.

In this last show I watched there was at least one pearl of wisdom from the counselor. “If the stuff goes away it doesn’t mean the memory does”. I could apply this to my souvenirs as easily as the crazy on tv could apply it to that dirty dixie cup from 1992.

Leaving San Diego 7

Round two at the storage unit.

We’re still not one hundred percent confirmed on the move to Atlanta. This means I have to get rid of things in preparation and still keep things in preparation. I was forced to save and get rid of things at the same time. I took the bus to the unit with the great idea to make a huge dent in my treasures. In the end, two hours later, I got rid of a lot but there was really no discernable difference in mass when it came time to shut the door.

Hundreds of plastic hangers found their way to the dumpster along with several reams of printer paper and office supplies. I threw away enough folders, paperclips, pens and magnetic business cards to open a small office supply store. Two name plates with my name on them from old desks and one from the door to a former office. Hundreds of lapel pins that said “Personally Referred”, business cards, training handouts from business speaking events I hosted and while I was at it I threw out several manuals for training me for several jobs I’ve had in the past. I don’t know why I saved them but I knew I wasn’t going back to work at Fridays or Dairy Queen any time soon.

The reason a lot of things are still there in storage is I can’t part with them just by throwing them away. I think there’s something in many of us that sees some value in objects we paid for and so can’t just throw away that value. It’s the logic that keeps thousands of Trans Ams up on blocks in the front yards of hundreds of trailer parks.

Seven garbage bags full of clothes can attest to the fact I have at least a little of that white trash hoarding gene. I remember buying these suits and looking great in them. I remember who gave me this tie and where I first wore this dinner jacket or that cumber bund. But the fact that they’ve all sat in a box for the past two years means I can definitely do without them. Some of the nicer things have remained looking nice because they refuse to fit me any more. Hope springs eternal on the front but I really can’t haul around jeans for the next several months while I whittled myself down a few waist sizes to fit in them again. Even if they are really nice jeans.

Leaving San Diego 6

For nearly the entire time I’ve lived in San Diego I’ve had a membership to the San Diego Zoo and Wild Animal Park. It was always a great default place for a walk, to take picture or for a date. A lot of first dates happened in these zoos. It was also where I would walk almost daily to help lose weight when I wanted the job as a flight attendant.

My first membership was with my ex. It was one of the few things we liked to go together that wasn’t shopping. After we broke up a friend I’d met that worked at the zoo was kind enough to remove him from our membership and extend mine a few more months. After that I bought a membership. After that it was always a good gift for friends to give. It is a big part of what I consider to be my San Diego.

I’m so thoroughly acquainted with the zoo there’s nothing I feel I haven’t done but I’ll still take the time to say goodbye and will try to get to the Wild Animal Park. The WAP is further and a little more difficult to get to for me without a car.

Leaving San Diego 5

The final word still hasn’t come in for whether or not I’ll actually be moving to Atlanta. I would say it’s about a 75% chance. It’s ok though. Those are still good betting odds so I continue getting things ready. I start telling people.

“Atlanta? You? In the South? you’re going to hate it” I’ve heard this a few times in a few different versions. But these friends don’t realize I’ve lived in The South before. I moved to New Orleans in 1985 from Missouri. I know about the heat, I know about the humidity. But what my friends that really know me worry about is how I’ll deal with the stupidity. The racism. I’ve dealt with that before too, though. After all I’m from Missouri and was raised by white trash.

The nice thing about the announcement that you’re leaving an area is you do get taken out to lunch and dinner by almost everyone you know. Nothing like a sense of scarcity to fill up your social calendar.

Leaving San Diego 4

Round one in the storage unit. I’ve heard it said that the main reasons people put off a chore is because 1) it seems overwhelming or 2) they don’t know how to start or in my case 3) both and no car to haul crap away.
When I put this stuff here to I told myself and anyone who would listen that I wasn’t going to be one of those people to spend more money to store my stuff than my stuff was worth. That was over two years ago. Over $1800 ago. For stuff I’ve recently decided to just get rid of.
Today I just arranged and sifted. Old checks, leases for apartments. Paperwork for a home I no longer own, pay stubs, receipts for businesses, real estate license, tax forms. Five boxes total hand shredded and thrown out.
The papers that are left are a little trickier, Journals, legal documents, pictures etc. Luckily I have time and a storage unit so I shove it back in and lock the door. I’ll be back next week.

Leaving San Diego 3

After saying goodbye to Betty’s I looked at a few other restaurants. The thai place that is known for being a gay dating place. So much so that I would often go on a date and see someone else I had just gone on a date with earlier in the month. The Jewish Deli, fast food Greek place, The best pizza place then the second best pizza place where we eat salad. Then the coffee shop I wrote in for the last six months. It wasn’t fun and there was no happiness in these visits. It’s odd going into a place that has been a staple in your life for at least a decade and thinking it may be the last time you’ll ever see it.

One restaurant that wasn’t a staple was Brian’s. I’d eaten there but usually late at night when most other places were closed and I was too drunk to worry about how fattening the food was. I didn’t go to say goodbye really, I went because a friend wanted to go. While we were waiting for our food an ex walked in. A serious one. Over seven years together and I hadn’t seen him since the break up. He was with the friend that became his boyfriend after we broke up. He looked like Hell. When we broke up I thought he’d taken the best years of my life but he looked so bad I think I may have taken his. This was a happy goodbye to a place and a person I would probably never see again.

Moving to Atlanta, Leaving San Diego Post 2

I’m going to dinner with a few friends since I’m leaving. Part of me wants to go to places I’ve never gone to but always wanted to but instead I’m going to all of the places that have been regulars over the years.

Baja Betty’s. I was here at the opening when it was called Margarita Mary’s until it was sued by some dark business overlord somewhere and was forced to change the name. I was also here for several of the anniversary parties many times randomly walking in on the right day for free food. I watched the initial group of really hot guy waiters dwindle down to the more reliable and more professional average looking waiters.

One of my 40th birthday parties was held here (I had several parties the same year NOT turning 40 several times) as well as many of my friends b’days. This was also the scene of an admirers ,Gunther, famous breakdown when I decided waiting two hours for a table for 12 was just too long. Its when I got the infamous “why do you hate me” text message. Later that night he was mugged after a good old fashioned white trash trailer park style argument in front of my apartment.

Adios Betty’s and Buenos Suerte. In tribute I pour half of the signature drink, a kick ass margarita, on the curb. (not really, at 7 bucks a piece that’s just crazy)