It seems I’ve gotten myself into a bit of an emotional predicament again. And even though the situation is entirely of my own making, I’m trying not to be too down on myself. I’m trying to breathe in and out, in and out. I’m seeking to live in the present moment. And to make it through this. One breath at a time.

So, I guess I’m going to tell you this tale (or at least the surface part — the portion I can admit to in public). The deal is: when it comes to the story of my life, I really can’t not write about this. Because as much as the theme of change has dominated my existence recently (what with a new job, living in a new state, and such things as the California driver’s-license test), this latest development overshadows everything else I’ve discussed so far. This is about one more major event in my life, happening synchronously with everything else.

Here goes…

Ten years ago, in the fall of 1997, I met someone. I thought (actually very early on I felt certain) that she was “the one.” It had been about a decade since I’d felt anything quite like this, and, oh was I really feeling excited about life and the prospects to come.

However, C (she is the one who originally dubbed me with the “TechnoMonk” moniker) and I spent a good portion of the next two years in one of the most horrendously-tumultuous relationships imaginable, as her ambivalence about “us” absolutely dominated our couple dynamics. We were together; then we were not. Over and over this happened. Together, separated; together, separated. Ultimately, in the fall of 1999, after too many partings and subsequent reconciliations to count, and as she was in recovery from breast-cancer surgery, we wisely ceased trying to be a couple. It was a relief for me, because the emotional roller-coaster ride that was this relationship had totally drained me. By that point, I was emotionally, physically, and spiritually spent. I was at a true low point in my life.

A lot of people had observed me over this two-year span and knew what a toll it had taken on my psyche. So, one thing I have kept hidden from many is that I have allowed, over the subsequent eight years, this dynamic to continue to play out, although, arguably, with slightly less drama.

For, you see, C and I remained “friends” — which was her idea, her agenda. (Really, I viewed myself totally committed to a “whole” relationship from the start.) This was probably foolishness, but I allowed it to happen. For one thing, I could never, really, imagine my life without her in it. So, I was a participant in (for what was for me) a half-relationship. However, this kind of arrangement  was not without its pitfalls, since I was the one (this time) always ambivalent about trying to be “just friends” with a former lover. It had happened only once in my life prior to this, and, as I think most folks will attest, it just doesn’t tend to work out that well.

As it turned out, even as friends, we had our comings and goings. We had some periods when we were in close contact (sometimes daily, primarily by phone and email) and other times when we (mostly I) decided that this “friendship” scenario was just not working.

There were several points during these friendship years when I brought up the topic of getting together again: that I had never given up on that idea, and was waiting for her “to come to her senses.” Typically, it was shortly after I brought this topic up that we took a break from our friendship for weeks or even months. The separations were always painful for me, but because I missed her (and “the kids”), and the pain always seemed to subside, I would ultimately agree to give the friendship thing yet one more try.

Up until last weekend, the friendship had been on (as I calculate and recollect) its longest continuous run…over a year and a half of frequent contact and friendship-kind-of-closeness (although I had lived in Portland, Roseburg and Larkspur and she in Eugene). It was C who called together the family for a farewell dinner for me. It was at C’s house that I spent my last two nights in Oregon. It was C who made me tuna fish sandwiches for my first afternoon of driving to California. It was C who saw me break down into tears as I took leave of the part of the country I had called home for 37 years. It was to C that I made my first phone call after arriving in my new living space here in the Bay Area. And it was C who sent me a gift certificate so that I might furnish the outside patio of my new living quarters with a reclining lounge chair.

Then, out of the blue, an email arrived last weekend that she was going to go camping with her granddaughter, her granddaughter’s friend, and that friend’s Dad.

When I wrote seeking clarification of what that meant, and after waiting three days for a reply, I finally got the word that there was someone else.

Frankly, I was stunned; there had been nothing to prepare me for this. All of a sudden, with absolutely no warning (especially given my final days in Oregon with her, just within the last month), she is moving on.

C: I wish you well and all health and happiness. And a relationship free of ambivalence.

In the meantime, I’m dealing with changing my entire life around — including, now, the added dimension of needing to heal a hole in my heart.

I am needing to find a way, at this point, to fill this very large void in my entire existence. I just lost my best friend. Yet one more time.

Soundtrack Suggestion

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that’s far away
And when I’m done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
I don’t want you thinking I’m unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you
I’m no longer moved to drink strong whisky
’Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you
Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter’s still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years
But I don’t want you thinking I don’t get asked to dinner
’Cause I’m here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I’ll ever get over you
If I lived till I was 102
I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you

(“ I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You” — Colin Hay)

I was an Oregonian for 32 years, and I know that residents of that state have a longstanding reputation for being independent: for subscribing to the philosophy of rugged individualism, or doing things “ the Oregon Way,” if you will. The Oregon State Motto of “She Flies With Her Own Wings,” seems to reflect the state’s citizens willingness to boldly go where no man has gone before. In 1999 the state adopted as its advertising slogan (and unofficial state motto), the phrase, “Oregon. Things Look Different Here.” Although that saying was replaced, in 2003, by a new unofficial slogan “Oregon. We Love Dreamers,” it’s the “things look different here” mantra that is running through my mind a lot these days.

For now, I’ve moved away from my adoptive state of Oregon, am currently a Californian, and, well, things are different here.

For example, take the matter of registering a vehicle with the state in order to be issued California license plates.

As you know, I purchased a new Subaru before leaving Oregon. I was living and working in Oregon at the time: ergo, I was a resident there when I purchased the vehicle. Of course, that means I paid no sales tax on the purchase because Oregon does not have such a tax. But, what happens when an individual takes a new sales-tax-free vehicle to California, is that he or she is assessed a “use tax” when registering the vehicle. This fee is in the amount of the applicable California sales tax. (Any sales tax already paid in another state may be credited against the California use tax. Most states have a sales tax. The way I look at it, this seems strictly a way to “get” Oregonians when they move here.) Yesterday I went to the DMV to register my car, and the check I wrote out to get my first set of plates came to $2,334! …and the funny thing is (ha ha), I didn’t even get the actual plates. My official Oregon registration document has not come in the mail yet, so I was unable to surrender it. The best California could do was to give me a temporary registration sticker for my window. So, this is what I got for my money:

California , you really know how to welcome a guy.

Not!

The driver’s license part of the DMV visit was quite an experience as well. Here, a stone’s throw from the Silicon Valley, the high-tech Mecca of the world, they still give paper and pencil tests! I was handed a sheet of paper, 18 questions on each side, and was directed to a testing area where I could mark in little boxes for the multiple-choice exam. Then, after I handed it in, the counter attendant graded it by hand. (Yes, I passed. One wrong. 35/36 = 97%. Obviously, knowing me, you can bet that I was shooting for a perfect score. Sigh…) It was 17 years ago this month, July 1990, when I moved to Indiana and sought to be a licensed driver there. Even back then, at the DMV office in backwater Bloomington, Indiana, I was directed to a kiosk to take a test in a completely automated process.

And, finally, in a stunning conclusion to my visit, even though I had shown my birth certificate, been fingerprinted, had my picture taken, and passed the test, I was given just one little slip of paper to carry around that is now my temporary permit. I asked, “I don’t get my license right now?” To which the reply was, “No. You’re in California. Things are different here. (He actually said that!) You get your license in the mail in about 2 weeks. Maybe 4 or 5. Have a good day.”

Oh, California. Thanks so much for your hospitality. I’m sure feeling good about this.

Finally, as I’m on this stream of how much I’m loving my new state, I’ll let the photo tell the story. Here’s my new office space…

Bottom line? My jaw is perpetually dropping as I continue to find out the way things are done here. Someday, the newness of this will all wear off, I’m sure. I’ll be “settled.” I will have been completely socialized to this part of the country: not only the state of California, but Marin County, California. Until then, I’m going to be walking around feeling, invariably, like a Martian.

Abbey Road - The BeatlesMy last job (you remember: that interim position in Roseburg, OR), ended on June 15, and my new one (here in Kentfield, CA: finally a “permanent” job!) starts tomorrow. It’s been a five-week hiatus. Of sorts.

Several folks have remarked how wonderful it must be to have all this “time off.” To which I reply: “HA!” There’s really been no time, not even really a moment, to relax, as the items on my to-do lists have been more numerous and ambitious than ever. (Believe me: moving to another state in order to totally change your life is a deal, you know…)

I begin tomorrow, though, with an apartment that’s mostly put together (even though the books and art are still littering the scene, all still packed away in cardboard boxes). I have a functional living space, and that’s what’s really important to me.

Truthfully, I only really had one “day off” during this whole period. That was Saturday, June 30. I had supervised the loading of all my possessions onto the moving van the previous day, and I was staying with C in Eugene for two nights, Friday and Saturday, before beginning the drive to my new state on Sunday, July 1.

Although it was not nearly enough, I did have that one rather stress-free, agenda-less day, and it was pretty terrific. One particularly memorable part of the experience was my visit to the Eugene Saturday Market. I wandered around and around with my camera, as I usually do there…although I ended up at the stage for one whole hour as Brook Adams (left) played a set of Beatles’ songs. Not just any Beatles’ songs, however: he played the entire Abbey Road album, all 17 songs, in order, “side 1” and “side 2,” accompanying himself on the ukulele. What a hoot!

There’s been a lot to do, and a lot of stress, associated this change, but I am thankful that there have been some lighter moments as well.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Because the world is round it turns me on
Because the world is round...aaaaaahhhhhh

Because the wind is high it blows my mind
Because the wind is high......aaaaaaaahhhh

Love is all, love is new
Love is all, love is you

Because the sky is blue, it makes me cry
Because the sky is blue.......aaaaaaaahhhh

Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh....

(“Because” – Lennon-McCartney, from Abbey Road)

Very early this morning (it’s still dark), I’m in bed. Sleeping.

All of a sudden: I’m shaken awake. I look at the clock by my bed. The digital readout says 4:42.

What the heck was that, I ask myself. Damn! If that’s someone slamming a door in another apartment, they should be more considerate!

Then: hmmmm…I wonder if that’s what an earthquake feels like.

How am I to know? I’m new to the Bay Area, and have never experienced a quake anywhere else I’ve been.

I keep thinking. It didn’t exactly seem like a door slamming. It was more as if the Jolly Green Giant slammed his foot down right outside my bedroom window, with the whole building rising a couple of inches then settling back down again. All in the space of a second or so.

It was early morning, though. These thoughts did not last long. I went back to sleep and pondered them no more. In fact, I had totally forgotten the episode until I turned on the TV before breakfast. Then, I heard the news:

SAN FRANCISCO, California (CNN) -- A magnitude 4.2 earthquake shook the San Francisco area Friday at 4:42 a.m. PT (7:42 a.m. ET), the U.S. Geological Survey reported.

The quake left about 2,000 customers without power, said David Eisenhower, a spokesman for Pacific Gas and Light.

Under the USGS classification, a magnitude 4.2 earthquake is considered "light," which it says usually causes minimal damage.

"We had quite a spike in calls, mostly calls of inquiry, none of any injury, none of any damage that was reported," said Capt. Al Casciato of the San Francisco police. "It was fairly mild."

The quake was centered about two miles east-northeast of Oakland, at a depth of 3.6 miles, the USGS said. Oakland is just east of San Francisco, across San Francisco Bay.

An Oakland police dispatcher told CNN the quake set off alarms at people's homes. The shaking lasted about 50 seconds, said CNN meteorologist Chad Myers.

According to the USGS, magnitude 4.2 quakes are felt indoors and may break dishes and windows and overturn unstable objects. Pendulum clocks may stop.

One might say that my initiation to San Fran life is off to a shaky start.

Ah, the joys of moving continue…

Despite my previous rave review of the Marpac SleepMate (a white-noise device), ultimately it just wasn’t enough to resolve the dilemma of having moved into an apartment that’s located directly above a couple who have a TV in their bedroom and play it all hours. Sooooo…although I was initially kicking and screaming at the thought of expending all this energy, I spent the last two days dismantling and then entirely rebuilding my bedroom and office spaces, exchanging the contents of the rooms, one for the other. My sleeping space is now in the “second bedroom” and the office is in the master bedroom. Honestly, I had intensely resisted this as a solution because, for the first time ever (for me), the master bedroom has a master bath…and the occupancy, now, of the second bedroom, negates its (the master bath’s) advantages.

But: getting sleep is the primary consideration here. Deep, restorative sleep is essential for good health (especially for someone with fibromyalgia), and the lack of it “deprives the body of its opportunity to replenish its supply of dopamine” (Dryland, p. 54). Having recently read The Fibromyalgia Solution, I now know that I must continue to work on the sleep issues I’ve had for years and years if I have any hope of eventually conquering this condition. Hence, all the work to change my sleeping space around: short-term pain for long-term gain.