When is a house more than a house?

This afternoon, while running errands, I happened to drive past this house. Back in 2007, I lived here. It so happens that this particular house is available to rent again, and seeing the sign in the front yard I immediately started trying to figure out how to work my situation to live there again. You see, I loved this house.

It's tucked into a tree-lined street in the oldest neighborhood in the city, a street that's filled with families, winos, college students, the odd over-rated band, and yuppies like me. It had a fantastic, big kitchen with a 5 burner gas stove and a tankless water heater. The bathroom still has the original basket-weave tile, with original, 78-year-old grout that will never come clean, no matter how many toothbrushes you sacrifice to it. The house is literally sliding off the foundation and the English ivy in back is threatening to annex the whole thing. 

I loved that house.

But the more I thought about it, the more I had to question whether that house is just a house, or rather a tomb. The moments in my life that I am least proud of happened there, and their ghosts will always haunt it. 

I spent hot summer nights there, getting porch drunk and watching the barflies hit cars, floating kegs with the neighbors and peeling peaches over the kitchen sink. I also watched a years long relationship begin to unravel and eventually end there, and it was awful. Insults and glassware hurled indiscriminately and nights spent on the couch. Ruined dinners and long days at work to avoid going home. Spiteful confrontations and, eventually, not speaking at all. 

I'd like to think that I'm a better person now. A more patient person. More compassionate and honest and capable of giving and receiving love without doubt. But, I also know that that house could never be a home for me again, much as I love its beautiful arches and weathered floors, and I think that maybe some ghosts should stay buried.

It's moving day...almost

I know that I said I would post about Suitor No. 2 today, but I'm afraid that I just don't have it in me to think of much of anything remotely witty. You see, I'm about to make what will be Move No. 2.5 in less than 12 months. I cannot honestly tell you how much I hope this whole new house/roommate/etc. situation works out because I could not be more sick to death of moving.

There is something wholly terrifying in uprooting myself again. I'm not exactly what you would call a big fan of change. Though I'm doing much better these days, happier than I can remember at any point in the last ten years, my ability to weather the rough patches in my life still seems incredibly precarious. I know the next few weeks are going to take an incredible amount of emotional fortitude, something that it really shouldn't because honestly I'm just moving across town, but it does. Seeing my life, the sum of my parts, every single thing I owned packed into bags and boxes and Uhauls is just...unsettling. But I'm sure I'll live.

I should really commit to updating this once in awhile

Unfortunately, I'm terminally boring and don't have much to say, although I could go on and on about adventures in dating people from The Internets. That, though, is really more frightening than entertaining.

I suppose it should be said already. I got dumped. I had my cold, black heart broken. My natural response was to completely recoil, to shut down and protect myself from potential pain. But then I drank copious amounts of Southern Comfort and cried on friends' couches until things made sense again. I decided that I didn't want to let the end of that relationship turn me into someone who is incapable of affection and trust, someone like him.

Now, I do little to hide the fact that I am, in all reality, a serial monogomist. I suck at dating. The whole process just seems so incredibly tedious and gut-wrenching for all the insecurities and awkwardness it brings, but I'm giving it a shot.

I had two very successful dates with a certain art director of a certain local company. At least, I thought they were successful. I just love when things click - when he's just like you, when you have so much in common you have to ask youself "IS THIS MAN A UNICORN?". But then, he stopped calling and I'm just left kicking myself for being so excited about something new in the first place and wondering what the hell I did wrong. I know that, more than likely, the answer is simply that he's a douchebag and I should leave it at that. Really, though, I am incapable of leaving anything alone.

My friend Sarah has a new blog about elevator accidents. You should go read it. And tell her to update more.

The times they are a-changin'

I have no excuses for my absence so I'm not even going to try to come up with some sort of explanation. Instead, here's the quick and dirty rundown on the last six months wherein I have accomplished an incredible amount-o-crap:

Conquered public transit

In an effort of self-preservation from the strangling cost of gas, I started taking the commuter rail to work. It takes just a few minutes longer than driving, has to potential to save me hundreds of dollars a month, and I arrive at work considerably less pissed off.

What's more, I managed to navigate Chicago solely by bus and train with The Green Bay Vegan for four days and only feared for my life once. She's got her own quick recap of our Chicago (mis)adventures here.

By the way, if you're vegan and you haven't visited Chicago recently, go get on a plane right now. The food choices are seriously amazing. I thought we had it pretty good here in Dallas, but Chicago is the only place that I've been able to get a seitan reuben the size of my head. While you're at it, make a trip down to Soul Veg on East 75th Street. It's a hike from the train through a sort of questionable neighborhood, but the Southern barbecue sandwich is worth the possible risk of being stabbed.

Cut the crap out of my diet

In March I cut all processed foods and most refined sugar out of my diet. I joined a gym and dropped more than 40 pounds since November. I won't elaborate much because honestly I think that's pretty goddamn boring, but I will say that I feel fantastic and it's become really clear to me how much what I eat affects how I feel physically and emotionally.

Met one badass bearded and tattooed soccer fanatic

Thanks to the magic of The Internets, I've met a man that just amazes me. I don't know what much to say about the whole situation other than sweet baby Jeebus wow. I'm a fairly emotionally unavailable person in general, but this time I fell and, my god, I fell hard. I can't honestly ever remember being this crazy about someone, ever, and I can say that I'm actually content for the first time in years. You know, soccer fanaticism aside. (Really, I keed. I plan to use this enthusiasm to leverage for a trip to a baseball game at some point this summer. Fair is fair, right?)

His living situation is pretty interesting at the moment, and personally I think it warrants the production of a reality show. It's like the Osbornes over there, except with more alcohol and less fame. My plan is to film a pilot, pitch it to some cable network, and then we all become filthy, dirty, stinking rich. At the present time I'm working on Episode 1: Pissin Off The Neighbors. More on that to come.

I'm feeling a bit under the weather, so we ate at Suma Veggie last night, which is a vegan Chinese restaurant in Richardson, TX that's really heavy on the salt and even heavier on meat analogues.

I'm not really sure how I feel about mock meats in general. I don't eat them much because they're typically processed beyond all recognition and loaded with sodium and I try to stick to a diet of mostly whole foods, meaning I don't buy outside of the produce aisle, aside from bulk spices, grains, and legumes. A part of me sees an ethical problem with eating something that even resembles meat, especially since I don't crave it or miss it at all, and I certainly don't want to give any omnivores that may be on the fence the impression that they're going to feel deprived if they just give the shit up already. Some vegans have said that they're a good transitional food, and I have to remind myself that, for a lot of people, going vegan isn't as simple as it is for others.

I was at a house party sort of thing last weekend and met an omnivore who said that she would be vegan, except she's poor. What the hell is that? I'd really like to know what, exactly, she's eating, because when I cut out the crap my grocery bill dropped dramatically. As a friend of mine at a New Year's Eve cocktail party said, GET YOURSELF SOME BEANS AND RICE.

I'm really bothered by some people's notion that going vegan is going to cost them more than an omnivorous diet, and I suppose it could, if you're eating crappy, processed food for which you're covering the cost of processing, packaging, and, most likely, refrigeration.

I shop for my groceries once a week, buying food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for two people, 90% or better of it organic, for $100 a week or less. That comes out to less than $5 per person per meal. In the summer, when I can buy most of my food at my local farmers market, the cost of a meal drops below $3, and I know that many vegans are able to cover their food bills with even less. This post over at Vegan FAQ even details a weekly grocery list that can cost less than $25 a week!

So...no more whining!

In other news, vegan superhero Jen just made the Fox City Foxz flat track roller derby league. Go show her some love.

So I'm a big fat liar and I forgot to take pictures of the ratatoulli and sesame glazed asparagus that we ate last night until after it had, well, been eaten. So, in lieu of that, go look at Becca's pictures of what we did for New Year's Eve!

Bound and determined

I will cook tonight, a good, nutrient-dense meal, and I will put my heart into it because I, once again, have someone else to cook for. There's so much soul in cooking, but I can never bring myself to take the time to do it only for myself.

I will make a meal for someone else, and I will photograph it with my crapass camera phone (because I lost the decent camera in the breakup), and I will blog it.

I will reclaim my rightful spot in the kitchen.