It’s Done – Friday the 13th, October 2020

The last three months have been full and extremely peculiar, so this post summarizes what’s been going on. If you want to dive a little deeper, I wrote three other posts that expand into the topics of death, the pandemic, and our current place in politics.

First, the good news, the final semester at Goddard is done. Albert: A Nuclear Family is submitted!

Okay, okay, so this a little premature. I still need to wait to hear back from my advisors if what I submitted will pass muster. Then I need to do all the bureaucratic junk that comes with graduation, but I hit send, and my thesis drifted away through the Ether and into their inboxes. I can do little aside from wait and rejoice that this leg of the journey is complete. 

After taking a good thirty minutes to bask in this act, I’m now enjoying the last piece of cocoa from Oaxaca, Mexico, and relax in this space.

It’s been odd living indoors the last two and a half months. I found I grew restless after the first thirty days, so much so I took a short weekend to go camp at the coast in Washington with a recurring partial van life buddy. 

Still, getting the apartment in Tigard (an offshoot of Portland) was more paramount than I realized. It meant I had space to fan out my thesis and physically rearrange it until the flow made sense. 

Also, fuck time travel. I hate it, and I’ll never write about it again. 

It meant having a wall of giant sticky notes with all the plot devices, timelines, and character motivations to study. 

It meant I wasn’t outside camping in the woods when Oregan caught on fire. While I couldn’t go out for two weeks, I was one of the lucky ones that didn’t have to evacuate but still had a plan to just in case.

It meant I was fifteen minutes down the road from my daughter’s new apartment and could help her get the things she needed when she first settled in. And that she could drop by for a game of Jenga.

It meant some of my favorite people were walking distance every night, so I had an instant quarantine bubble when I arrived, not to mention being able to pet their dogs.

It meant going for a hike with a Goddard peep through woods.

As well as some board games with other fellow Goddard folk

During this pandemic, an absence of hugs and cuddles would quickly be the death of me.

Speaking of death, having my own space meant that I could fly across the country when a close friend suddenly died.

I barely remember being back in Vermont for nearly three weeks. If I didn’t see you, it’s because this wasn’t a social call. Save maybe two days, the entire time was spent tending to my friend’s family and then desperately falling back into my thesis work–a massive thank you to the Goddard crew who kept me accountable. You’re the writing community I’ve been craving my entire life. 

During my time in Vermont, I was so disconnected I forgot there was an election. Relax, I voted early and mailed it in. Not that it matters now, because it’s done, and once January 20th rolls around, I hope that this country will stay as active in politics as it has been the last six months.

Also, a massive shout out to the two humans who lent me their home while I was in Vermont. I can’t even begin to express how much stress this relieved. Your generosity is unmatched, and I am eternally grateful. 

After a brief two-night respite to visit a friend in Chicago, I’m “home.” I have until the end of the month to insulate the windows of Bitxh Love, as I’ll be traveling down the West Coast for seventeen nights until I land in L.A. for two months of the winter. In regards to traveling right now, my advice is don’t. 

So why L.A. during a pandemic? Because I can quarantine without it affecting my life, and given how rampant COVID is in this entire country, the only difference between being L.A. or being in Portland is the weather. And I’m so done with the cold.

The joys of the nomad life are that when an opportunity arises to move to a new space for a short stint, it means I can take it. During the time I’ll be rooming with another fellow writer, I’ll likely sketch out the third Albert novel, then start the rewrites on Albert: A Gray Matter. In a year or so, I’ll be in a place to finish polishing Albert: A Nuclear Family. Then hopefully, get a publisher to give me money to finish the third book.

The biggest lesson I acquired during my time at Goddard, the one I didn’t learn writing my first novel, is patience. It’ll be another year or more before Albert: A Nuclear Family will be ready for the public eye, so bear with me.

What awaits after L.A.? Who knows. Until a week ago, I didn’t know where I would be after I left this apartment. I’ll likely bum around the warmer parts of the country, slowly make my way to my dad’s campground in T.N., then drive back up to Vermont around May. That school is no longer a guiding force means I’m truly free to move about as I please and spend my time however it suites me. It’s a strange feeling, honestly, one that likely won’t congeal until I turn the ignition switch in Bitxh Love and drive away on November 30th.

Until then, I’ll revel in the last moments of this space, grateful for its walls, stability, and convenience, things that have been mostly absent the last year and a half. Then take joy in being in Bitxh Love again, seeing the world in my little containment bubble, if only for a brief three weeks. 

Wherever you are in the world, please take the time to appreciate you’ve made it this far, and you’ve done it one moment at a time. And while things may not be perfect, and let’s face it, even when there wasn’t a pandemic, it wasn’t really ideal, you’re still alive. Be grateful for each moment. It’s all we have.