After spending almost four years in San Diego, I have returned home to the South, and am actively hunting for a home in Asheville, North Carolina, my home town. Despite my efforts to avoid this, I’m setting up this account to raise funds to help me swiftly find and pay for a place to live. I’m aiming to obtain at least $1000, hopefully within the next week, which will cover travel costs accrued from searching, and most of a security deposit for a home. I initially had enough money to make the move without incident, but my original plans fell through, and my last minute arrangements cost me $2000 that I had not expected to spend; rather, it was the nest egg I had to help me get around to find a domicile. Now that that’s gone, I have had no choice but to turn to GoFundMe and friends. So, if you can spare anything at all, it would be deeply appreciated. I promise I will be updating on how the money is used and when I am settled in my new home. To visit my campaign, you need only click on the screen cap below, or right here. Thank you in advance!
May. 10th, 2017
As I typed out the subject line of this post, it dawned on me that it's the title of a Culture Club song that was featured on the Electric Dreams soundtrack.
So I spied a post by someone lauding the beauty of Christian Love. What exactly is that? The entire post dripped of some misplaced spiritual superiority, as though Christian Love is better than your common, run-of-the-mill, lowly love.
The message I get from language like this drips of division and separatism. I may be wrong, but I seem to remember that Jesus Christ was incredibly inclusive, especially considering the time and place of his activities. Why his (fake) followers need to feel so special that they set themselves aside is beyond my limited comprehension.
Again, to echo the Culture Club song, love is love. To give it any other designation is an insult to the very ideal of love, in my opinion. And I'm not just speaking of Christians here, now. Any sort of love, be it "romantic", "platonic", straight, gay, motherly, fatherly, sisterly, brother, etcetera, is simply and beautifully love. And we are lucky if we ever feel it or are the recipient of it. Many say God is love. If that is the case, then the word "love" should be enough. By its very nature, love is inclusive. It is an invitation to trust and bond with one another, our fellow Earthlings, and our divine source. To label it any other way is detrimental in every way.
And love is not just a word, obviously. It is the expression of our deep connection, and we should act accordingly. You cannot love, then set yourself apart from everyone else by defining the "type" of love you're feeling. That behaviour is the very antithesis of what the phenomenon is about. And, considering the behaviour of a lot of folks who claim to be Christian these days, many people who use the term Christian Love are doing their faith an incredible disservice.
The following was handwritten during my trip from San Diego to Greenville-Spartanburg.
May 8, 2017, 10:40 PM PDT
I'm on the plane, bound for Greenville. It's hard to believe I've come full circle, and even harder to believe that I'm so happy to be returning to the South. The Mother Unit brought me to the airport. We did a one-armed hug to say goodbye. Kind of sad, really, but I really didn't expect much more, if anything.
She and Matt are still in the process of packing, so they probably won't leave until Wednesday. Losing Pinky took a physical toll on them, so they did very little in the moving department today. I would have been the same way, had it been Toby or Smidgen lost to the wild. I feel terrible that Pinky got outside. Matt feels he did not surve the night, considering it was cooler than normal and rained cats and dogs all night. Sorry luck, regarding the weather. I can't help but think some karma was at work here, although I'm not at all happy with a little life being lost in the process. It would have been better if Mama Bird had been the one to get out, since she might possess some rudimentary memory of her time in the wild. Even if she weren't able to survive, she would still be better off dead, considering her ungodly time in captivity, along with fact that she lost her mate not long ago.
May 9, 2017, 7:40 AM EDT
Toby, Smidgen, and I just boarded the flight going from Charlotte to Greenville. I transported the dynamic duo from the San Diego plane to the transfer flight in a wheelchair. They're getting better treatment than I am on this journey!
The sun was just rising when we landed in Charlotte. It was an incredibly cathartic experience to see a blanket of green bathed in sunlight, muted by buttermilk clouds. I haven't seen buttermilk clouds in years. Contrails? Absolutely. But no buttermilk. I could even see the mountains - MY MOUNTAINS - from the sky.
We're about to take off, scheduled to land in approximately an hour, maybe less. Cameron is meeting me at GSP, and is taking me by Wal-Mart on the way to Janice's. I have reserved a hotel room at the Quality Inn for the next couple of days in order to give Janice more time to accommodate my hopefully brief stay with her and Uncle Michael. I need to find more permanent arrangements as soon as humanly possible, but I've got to take at least a day to recuperate from the chaos of the past week; otherwise, I'm going to shut down and get nothing done at all.
I need to buy another pair of pants, some panties, and a couple of shirts. Why? Because my dumb ass packed all the clothes I have, including the ones I'd set aside to bring with me, save for the ones I'm currently wearing, and the movers won't have my stuff to me for about a week. The last thing I needed was to have to spend more money I wouldn't otherwise need to.
I rode all the way across the country with my arms tucked underneath my tee shirt. It was cold as all Sith Hell on that airplane! The woman who shared the row with me was flying out to attend a funeral and had to bring her dog with her, a Jack Russell Terrier named Sia, who she feared would go ballistic if she saw Smidgen and, especially, Toby. Thankfully, they didn't spy one another, having their vision limited tucked under the plane seats, so it was a very quiet flight. I left the seat between us empty, and told her to feel free to use it and the tray table, if she needed. We ended up using the middle tray for our beverages, which allowed for more room for our appendages. If I could afford it, I would always buy two seats, pets or no, simply for the convenience just that little bit of space provides. Alas, it would probably be cheaper just to fly First Class, if one had the money to throw around like that.
One of the last things the Mother Unit said to me before we parted ways was to point out that I would be amazed at how large the seats would seem, since I hadn't flown since my panniculectomy. She was right. I was able to sit sideways for a while, as I watched You Tube vides on the computer. Of course, I'm still not over the fact that I'm sitting here in a large women's tee shirt and size 6 jeans. What I want to know is where the rest of me ended up because, according to the laws of physics, there are 210 pounds of me floating around the observable universe in some form or another.
I can't believe that I'm almost finished with this journal. It's a fortunate thing that I thought ahead and got an extra when I could afford it, so there would be no interruptions in my handwritten journaling once this one is full. The only thing I need to do to make it ready to be written in, is to finish inking the owl cover, like I did with this journal. The colours will be different, obviously, but the finished product should be just as pretty, if not more so.
Well, this was a short flight. We are already about to land after only approximately thirty minutes in the air. It seems we spent more time on the tarmac than we did actually flying! I can't wait to see Cameron and all my Tribe and family. I just hope Cameron finds me okay, 'cos my phone is dead and I currently have no internet connection. Ye gods.
We just landed at 8:25 AM. I'm home.
One more thing before I conclude this entry. You know you're at an airport in the South, when about half the seats made available for travelers are rocking chairs. The end.