Thursday, October 27, 2011

THE Mountain Town Part 1

I arrived in THE Mountain Town in the latter part of January 2009 after having left Utopiaville, CO a few days before.  There had been many times in my life when I had arrived in a new town, site unseen, knowing nobody, and excited about what was to come.  But this time was different.  I was making this move because I finally got a "real" job.  One that not only used my two degrees, but also didn't end when the season changed.  And as much as I tried to resist this blind dive into the real world, it was a necessary move.  After all I had just turned 31 only a few weeks before and it was time for the world's longest SpringSummerHoliday Break to end.  I could hear my parents' sighs of relief 2000 miles away. 

Despite my apprehension, I was excited about this new chapter in my life.  Everyone told me "you are going to LOVE THE Mountain Town!  It is just like Colorado!  It's amazing, the best place in the whole world!  You are sooooooo lucky!"  So I packed up my Subaru Forester (a required car if  you live in Colorado), put my cat Piglet in his carrier, placed him in the passenger seat and naively set out for my new life.

Then I drove into The Mountain Town, and all that excitement gushed out of me like a deflating balloon.  The first thing I saw besides The Mountain (there is only one), was the dog food factory.  The surrounding hillsides had been gouged, the material removed for road construction and landscaping, leaving behind abstract mounds that only a pretentious New York art collector could love, if they were on crack.

I quickly made my way to my new apartment, surely it could only get better.
I was wrong.  My apartment which I had rented site unseen, was not in the nicest part of town, a relative statement to say the least.  Upon entry I noticed a pond of water which had settled into a depression in front of the refrigerator.  I called the leasing office was told "it wasn't like that the last time maintenance was in the apartment and besides, our maintenance guy is on vacation and there is nobody else available to fix the problem".  I crawled up in my sleeping bag (my furniture had not yet arrived) and bawled, and bawled, and bawled, for about a week.  I was alone, in an ugly town, in a crappy apartment, with no friends and only my cat to comfort me.  Maybe this wasn't such a great idea.  Maybe I should have stayed in Utopiaville, CO and worked seasonal jobs for the rest of my life.  I mean really, who needs savings and a retirement fund? 

For the first time in my life, I called my parents crying, telling them how unhappy I was and that I just didn't want to be there.  My parents were in Australia, and while they tried to sound concerned as they insisted it would get better, I got the feeling they were the ones concerned, concerned that I may back out of this new grownup lifestyle and return to SpringSummerHoliday Break land.  Then, as I heard a didjeridu and cheering in the background, my mom quickly exclaimed "Don't worry sweetheart you'll get through this you always do we have to go they are about to put the shrimp on the barbie!"  Thanks Mom and Dad, by the way your Australian accents sound more Long Island than Crocodile Dundee.

Within a week I had broken my lease and by the end of the month had moved into a new, much nicer apartment.  I still didn't know many people in town, but at least I didn't need a snorkel to access my 'fridge.  Baby steps.

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

My First Time

This is my first entry for my first blog and before I let you in to my world, before I divulge all my dreams and fears, before I relay all the drama of this small mountain town, I should warn you...I lie.

I'm not talking about little white lies, please, everyone tells those.  Nor am I refering to compulsive lying, where the person knows very well they are lying and continues on with the conversation as if nothing happend while the other people look at each other as if to say "should we call him out?" "No, it's not worth it, just smile and nod, and eventually he will go away, and then we can totally make fun of him."  We all know someone like that, and as I can only speak for myself, I totally make fun of them.

My lying is unintentional. It is more like a mean trick played on me by my brain.  I have a great memory, until I tell someone a story from my past and someone else, usually my mother, informs me "No, that's NOT how it happened at all.  You didn't save your sister from drowning in the swimming pool by diving in, pulling her out and performing CPR on her, in the middle of a hurricane, while being attacked by killer bees.  You screamed at the top of your lungs 'Mom, Sis is getting in the pool!  Remember you said we couldn't get in the pool untill you were here! MOM!  She is breaking the rules!'"  I still think she could have drowned and by me telling on her, I save her life.

Changling memories aren't the only way my brain plays tricks on me.  There is also the concept of point of view.  Whether I am involved in the situation or just an interested bystander, I tend to retell the story based on how I percieve things happened.  This is typical for pretty much everyone, so in order to be different I will retell my stories as extravagantly as possible.

Filling in the blanks.  This isn't so much a trick my brain plays as it is a helpful way to piece together what happened during those times I blank out during the day.  I have a hard time concentrating, my mind wanders, my eyes glaze over, I think of driking a hot chocolate (I hate coffee) in a Parisian cafe, kicking everyone's ass coming down the mogul run, writing a blog.  Yet while I am thinking these terrific thoughts, there is an important life changing meeting going on, and now they need my input.  Crap. 

And with that, I invite you into my little corner of the world, and hope you visit often.  But consider yourself forewarned, what I tell you is an embellishment of the truth at best, if not a full out lie.  Please feel free to call me out anytime, I will answer with the truth.  Then again, you will never know.