And then, I fell on my ass...

It's been an awesome week and a half. Once the packing was over, life was golden.

My dad and I departed from Winona last Sunday. I remember bits and pieces... we traveled through Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada on our way to Cali (28 hours-- am I forgetting any states?) over the course of three days. I spent most of the time sleeping, reading, and listening to the radio. I felt tremendously spoiled, since my dad apparently enjoys driving and hates being a passenger. I on the other hand love to nap in cars. It was a beautiful combination.

We got here last Tuesday. It was 118 degrees. Remarkably, 118 degrees in the desert feels very similar to 90 degrees in Minnesota's humidity. It's really not that bad. I love my apartment! It's a studio that is just the right size for me. It took me a couple of days to unpack and make it feel like home. My apartment is a ground-level complex and is sort of attached to 4 other complexes. They all wrap around a pool, and each has it's own patio filled with tons of beautiful plants. I love my patio! It's my favorite.

I got to know my neighbors pretty quickly. Keep in mind, Palm Springs has a gay population that is one of the highest in the nation. So among the 5 apartments it's me, another single girl, 2 gay couples, and a single gay man. My neighbors have been amazing. They've all stopped by to chat, introduce themselves, and have told me to let them know if I need anything. I've even found out that one of my neighbors waters everyone's plants and sweeps their patios, just because! I've heard a lot of things like "we take care of each other around here" and "we're like family." Palm Springs overall has had this great small town feel... people are surprisingly genuine and kind here, which is a community trait that I thought I'd have to say goodbye to once I left the midwest.

My job has been going well, though it has also been a bit overwhelming. I am on day 2 of training. I'll write more about that next time, and for now, here are a couple of pics of the new place.

Right inside the gate to my new place-- up to the left is my patio/entrance, to the left is the pool area

Some of the cacti outside my patio

Look! It's my patio!

The livingroom in the foreground, kitchen in the background

Look! A bed I can sleep on!

Pool area, left side

Pool area, right side

Light in the darkness

Addiction is like darkness. All one can ever do for an addict is offer light. Most don't--can't-- live in the light. And I don't blame anyone for that, because living in the light is fucking scary. You see things for what they really are. People see you for who you really are. You are vulnerable. Addicts have layered themselves with thick skin to keep the pain away. And shedding that skin has got to be terrifying.

This weekend a couple of deaths related to my job hit close to home. Not close enough to wound me, but close enough for me to feel the sting. I've come to realize that the longer I am involved in the recovery community, the closer I become to people who are terminally ill. And the day that I will know someone and care for someone who will die inches closer. I know that it sounds really pessimistic, but it's reality. The darkness is real, and it swallows people whole.

But I love my job. Because once in a rare while, I get to see someone who gets it and runs like hell towards the light. And this heaviness in my heart that I feel is lifted for a while.

God shows me through this job how much he loves drug addicts. He shows me how much he loves me. He shows me that no one is ever too far from his love. And that there is hope... for me, for anyone. And that I am where I need to be, and that it is all worth it.

Beautiful adventure lies ahead

I've been itching to write. I'm exhausted, but the thoughts are brewing.

Death Cab for Cutie concert last with Mel. So good. I don't understand people who don't move at concerts. I feel as though I have no choice-- especially when it comes to live music. The energy of live music is spiritual to me. Movement is the only logical expression of that energy in my mind.

I have a tattoo of my back of a guitar. It means many different things to me, but last night I was reminded of a specific meaning that it has to me-- that music is one of my best friends. Whenever I've gone through difficult or lonely times in my life, music and God have been the things that I depend on. And I was reminded last night that even though I am facing a particularly lonely time ahead of me, I can still turn on my ipod and feel incomparable comfort.

The greatest rewards in my life have been preceded by great risks. I keep reminding myself of this. My trip to Haiti, my choice to go to Bethel and move to the cities, studying abroad in South Africa, and now moving to the west coast. In all of these adventures I chose to go even though I didn't know a soul. I struggled with loneliness but in each of these my life was forever changed. I can't imagine how my life would be different if I hadn't taken these steps into the unknown.

I observe those around me who do things the prescribed way, and I have mixed feelings. Some people choose to stay close to home, to go to a local college, get a conventional 9 to 5 job, marry right out of college, and have 2.5 kids. Maybe that's what makes them happy. I just don't ever know if that could make me happy.

I really am happy. I'm excited for where my life is at and where it is going, and the endless possibilities that are ahead. I want to remember this-- remember that great things are in store, even if and when things get rough after I move.

There is a project sponsored by Smith Magazine where people can submit 6-word memoirs. I submitted mine--

Only 22: Beautiful adventure lies ahead.