Yield and Prevail

I have no idea if anyone will ever read this little blog again, but I feel the need to write down a bit more of what happened. It didn’t end well.

After purchasing the RV, sleeping in it for all of one night, and spending a number of evenings on other peoples’ couches, I reached my breaking point. I spent a lovely evening with my friend Eileen and her family, slept well, and took a warm shower. I had parked the RV outside on the streets of El Segundo, and I rushed down to the street to feed my cat and get some fresh clothes before heading off to work. If you’re thinking I’m a terrible cat mother for letting my cat sleep alone in an RV, you need not waste your time. I’ve already spent a significant amount of time feeling badly about it.

Anyway, I reached the street only to find that Miss V was no longer there. The bitch was gone. “Fine,” I thought. “This venture is going to continue getting more surreal whether I like it or not. This will all make a good story one day. Kudos to me for trying new things.” Then, I remembered Billy. My cat was gone. My home, my clothes, my books, my jewelry. Fine. My cat? Not fine.

Eileen called the police, who told her the RV had been towed due to an oil leak, Animal Protective Services had taken Billy upon breaking into the RV (thanks a lot, guys), and the RV had been placed in a tow yard, waiting eagerly to take another crap on my sad little check book.

I got Billy back, apologized to him profusely, and paid over three hundred dollars to get Miss V back. The mechanic informed me that it would take another three hundred dollars to fix the oil leak, at which point I decided I was done. Enough. After spending almost four thousand to buy her and then putting over one thousand into her for repairs, registration, tickets, and towing, I felt too embarrassed by my dwindling pocket book to continue. I love that I just said “pocket book.” Who says pocket book anymore?

I sold Miss V to the first bidder and unloaded her as quickly as possible. Now, I’m staying in the spare bedroom of a friend’s house. I’m not looking for my own permanent place to stay, because I’m now planning to move to Hawaii in July. Eileen’s husband got a great job in Oahu, where they are currently in the process of buying a house. Considering that I have resisted becoming firmly rooted to anything in LA thus far, there is no reason for me not to accept their invitation to live with them for a while. My embarrassment about my financial blunder is fading as my excitement about beaches, warm rain, and leisure books grows.

It's Official: I'm an RV Dweller/Couch Surfer

Things that have happened since...the last time I wrote anything:

1. I bought a battery at Walmart and put it in Miss V all by myself!
2. I drove Miss V around the neighborhood for two hours looking for parking so I wouldn't get another parking ticket. I am now much better at turning corners.
3. Heather and I moved all my crap into Miss V and out of my apartment, went to turn Miss V on and drive her away, and realized the battery had died again. I decided to never again contact the travelling mechanic.
4. Miss V sat in the street in front of my now former apartment while I ran away to Huntington Beach to stay at Heather's house
5. I forced myself to return to Miss V, cat in tow, and began sorting through the boxed crap obstructing every possible walk space.
6. I spent my first night in Miss V. Billy, my cat, and I enjoyed a picnic dinner sitting on the floor, in the dark, hoping passers by would not suspect a tiny woman living in an RV. Around 2am, it got very cold and I was reminded of camping in the mountains as a child in a poorly insulated tent.
7. I decided to couch surf until I can plug Miss V into some sort of electrical outlet. * If you're reading this and you get off on sharing electricity, please contact me by leaving a comment.
8. Miss V continued to refuse to start. Bitch.
9. I finally found a mechanic who would work on an RV (with a real mechanic's shop, hours of operation, and those striped uniform shirts covered in grease), had AAA give me a jump, and drove Miss V to Westchester.
10. I think I discovered an honorable, affordable mechanic!! He is my new favorite person.
11. Miss V got a new regulator valve and passed her smog check. She gets to come "home" tomorrow.

I am currently wondering where to go next. And I'm kinda loving it. I've given away the bulk of my stuff, but still feel like I've got too much. When I drop anything off at Goodwill, I get this twinge of discomfort and the feeling of doing something wrong. But as I drive away, I feel a little lighter. I feel less afraid of losing things because of what I'm able to let go of. I wonder how much energy I've spent trying to protect things I don't even need. And wanting what I don't have. And hoping that that thing will make me happy. If I just had that thing from that store, I would really like being me. The right combination of possessions would generate self-confidence, which would attract the perfect man, which would alleviate financial stress by allowing me to live on a shared income, which would make it easier to buy even more, which would make me the kind of person people want to be friends with, and I would finally be one of the popular kids. I would finally be that pretty girl who smiles all the time and loves everything about being alive. Well, you know what? Fuck that girl. She's boring. She's so happy she makes me wanna puke all over myself.

So, here I sit, stewing in my anger, waiting for inspiration, and enjoying the fruits of my independent thinking. I finally stopped trying to make everything look perfect, and I feel closer to serenity than I've felt in a while.

Lee Lee Saves the Day

So, I've spent a lot of time bitching, and I really do have a lot to bitch about. But, I wanted to take a moment to note how wonderful some of my friends are. I just received an email from a friend I like to call Lee Lee, and it was like my less-than-hopeful mood got flipped upside down. She told me to come park in front of her apartment so I can be close to someone during this crazy time. She basically said I need a lot of support and offered to do whatever she could since not everyone is being entirely helpful (i.e.: friends saying I can't park in their driveways and my mother calling me crazy all day today).

Lee Lee, I love you! And, thank you. I needed that. A lot.

I also have a few other friends who have been nothing but supportive throughout this process, joining with me in my expression of non-conformity. I have some incredibly amazing women in my life that I don't know what I would do without. Ladies, you know who you are, I love you beyond measure!

* Possible Future Plan: At lunch today, following a family funeral, a distant cousin offered to let me park in his driveway in Newport Beach. I'm imagining a summer in Newport with free lodging, and it's lookin' pretty good! It might be a great way to say goodbye to Southern California before moving up North. However, if a republican is elected as our next president, I'm probably going to ditch the RV and move to Europe.

I'm Done with Everyone

Today, I am done. People are retarded, cars are assholes, and authority figures are the bane of my existence. Work is stressful and I hate it. My new house won't turn on and I hate it. My insurance company won't insure my new house and I hate it. I have yet to find a permanent location to park my new house and I therefore hate everything. I am a tiny ball of hate and I would eliminate anything in my tracks if I didn't have such a noisy conscience.

Why is it so hard to live differently? Or, am I just a big baby who freaks out when confronted with the reality of changing a dead car battery? Fuck! Foo! Fiddle-fuck-fuckity-fuck! I curse like a mentally impared school girl. Try it. It feels good.

I've been singing a lot lately. It's the only thing that calms me down. I sing about the tasks I'm doing at work, acting like a tiny child amused by the most insignificant of activities. I get looks, but they're more pleasant than the discomfort of people watching me rant about the inability of our culture to support the authentic development of the individual. Ghandi would be ashamed. No, he wouldn't. He'd yield and prevail in a stubborn, graceful, and meaningful way. I love how I'm pretending to know what the fuck Ghandi would do! I can't even figure out what I would do in my current situation. It's awesome to be brilliant and full of answers. I totally dig it.

To do:
Get a PO Box address
Get a gym membership to guarantee the availability of a hot shower
Get Miss V to run
Get insurance for Miss V
Empty out apartment
Move into RV
Prepare emotionally for mom's visit (She has taken to referring to me as crazy, which is a total confidence booster. I am endlessly excited to see and spend time with her.)

A Lemon for Breakfast (written last Friday at the DMV)

Note to self: Look into the "Lemon Law"

Miss V and I are not getting along. Yesterday morning, I tried to move her for street cleaning. Bundled in two hoodies, I walked down the street and hopped into her freezing cold (only a slight exaggeration) cab. I turned the key. Nothing. Perhaps she would start in Neutral, as the mechanic suggested might happen since he hasn't finished adjusting the gear shift. No such luck. At this point, I went into full-on self-talk mode. "No worries, G. It's just an RV. You might get a parking ticket. That's ok. Children starve to death everyday. This car/home trouble is not a big deal." Sitting in the back of the RV, I caught a glimpse of my mostly still asleep face in the closet mirror. I had a moment of intense self-pity and then forced myself to exit Miss V and call the travelling mechanic. Kenny arrived shortly after I'd already received a parking ticket. Conclusion: dead battery. Since she was already ticketed, we agreed to leave her there and reconvene the next morning at 9am.

This morning, a few minutes past 9am, I saw Kenny driving up to the RV as I was driving toward it.

*At this point, the super-happy looking DMV lady called my number. I forgot to lie about the price of the RV and ended up paying $388 dollars to transfer the title. I still need to get Miss V smog checked. She still refuses to start, so everything is on hold for the time being. Oh yeah, this morning I got a ticket for having outdated tags on Miss V. She is being bitchy and costly. I disapprove of her behavior entirely.

Home Around the Corner

The RV is back and parked safely(?) around the corner. I usually drive by it on my way home to make sure it's still there, but I was too excited to eat my nutritious Taco Bell dinner tonight to go the extra block. Perched on my bed, health food devoured, I'm hoping she's around the corner where I left her this morning. She needs a name! Bertha? Betty? Annie? Chunk? I don't know. Point being, she survived the mechanic and chugg-chugged back home without over-heating.

Yesterday, I pretended she wasn't real. I stayed in bed, refusing to shower or even dress, and chose to believe my life is simple and predictable. I also found myself using many of the ammenities I will soon find myself without. As it stands, I have no official place to park Miss Vixen, (ooh, I kinda like that). And that means no guarantee of electricity, i.e.: use of the microwave, toaster, space heater, tv, dvd player, and laptop. And lights. Dude, lights. No worries, I'll just meditate in the dark. It'll be awesome. I can feel the serenity now. Or intense, dragging boredom. Time will tell.

Now, Miss V needs to be cleaned out and loaded up. And, I need to give away most of my possessions. It's weird how hard it is to get rid of things. I keep walking in circles around my apartment, looking at things I rarely use and don't really need, but can't seem to part with. Do I need seven decorative pillows, or a kazillion books I've never read, or that dress I haven't worn in two years? No. But, I like that dress. And, one of those books might inspire my next stage of spiritual enlightenment. I know it's just stuff, but it's stuff that reminds me of who I am, who I've been, and who I might become. If I let go of the stuff, I'll have to look inside to identify and know myself. I guess I'm scared of finding a bottomless pit of depression and self-doubt, but I'm hoping for a well of untapped inner-strength.

I was feeling pretty despondent this morning, but the words of Clarissa Pinkola Estes (1995) gave me hope:

"...women's unflagging vitality can be restored by extensive 'psychic-archeological' digs into the ruins of the female underworld. By these methods we are able to recover the ways of the natural instinctive psyche, and through its personification in the Wild Woman archetype we are able to discern the ways and the means of woman's deepest nature. The modern woman is a blur of activity. She is pressured to be all things to all people. The old knowing is long overdue" (Women Who Run With the Wolves, pp. 1-2).

I want to be strong. I want to have faith in myself. I want to know the feeling of embodying a feminine archetype of historical proportions. Not in a grandiose way, but in a centered, truthful way. I'm looking for a doorway into this woman I want to become. I wonder if other women feel this longing, or the pain of not being able to access a more authentic version of themselves. Do they feel as tired as I feel? As lost? As caught up in our cultural beliefs of what it is to be female?

Miss V is an alter-ego. An escape. A defense against a faltering sense of self. She is anger and hope. The possibility of liberation.

I know it's just an RV, and I'm probably sounding a little nuts right now. But, this venture is so much more to me than a new lifestyle. It's an attempt to live out my disapproval of societal standards and norms. What would it mean to do more than just bitch and moan about all the shit that pisses me off? What does the active expression of my beliefs look like? How does it feel? What will it change?

RV in Jamaica?

All day, the sad girl in one of the darker corners of my head has been screaming, “Love me! Love me!” Valentine’s Day blows. Chunks. Of self-loathing and narcissistic longing. I’m proud to say, however, that I only ended up crying in the restroom once today. A lack of inner resources forced me to lose it after a sweet friend provided me with a moment to ponder and share my feelings. But, no worries. My love life is sure to heat up soon. I’ve got the perfect pick-up line: “Hi, I’m Gina. I live in an RV with my cat. Nice to meet you.”

On a more practical note, this morning I gave Kenny, the pot-smoking traveling mechanic, $200 cash. Then, I watched him drive away with my RV to “take it to a more comfortable place to work.” It could be anywhere by now. Before Kenny left, he comforted me by saying, “If I don’t come back, I’m in Jamaica!” We both laughed, but my affect portrayed slightly more anxiety than his did.