Back story: In August 2006 I moved to Houston, Texas. I can remember driving down the interstate jaming to some Witesnake’s “Here I Go Again” (please refrain from judgement). It is not that all this changed…it is more like life happened and happened in Houston. My life is something of a mix of serendipitous drama, procrastination, luck(or lack of), and well a bit of Telenovela for good measure. There was a time when people thought I would have it all figured out. I do. I figured, a lot of things…doesn’t mean I figured them out right. My point is things didn’t go quite as planned while I stayed for two years. Whether it be a heartbreaking end to relationships, random crime, car troubles, or just my own stupidity, things didn’t quite go according to plan. I started to develop this fear of a Houston. The fear was only increased when I drove back for a birthday a week after I left.
August 2009 At 1 am on a Thursday night, my car just broke down at Beltway 8…Beltway 8 also happens to be the city limits of Houston. I mean just broke down. I had no debit card as I was waiting for mine to come in because there were fraudulent transactions. I had minimal cash, well because I was not expecting to break down on I-10 20 miles from my final destination. So I did what any girl would do with a homemade chocolate mocha cake in my car. I called the birthday boy. After several failed attempts to call, I finally get through as a shady group pulls up behind me. I am crying at this point due to several factors: 1. I am convinced that Houston hates me. I have left for less than a week and I am still paying for whatever it is that Houston thinks that I need to be paying for. 2. The person I am calling about this break down is officially yelling at me telling me to shut up as he is tired of hearing me say I’m sorry and hearing me cry. So the combo of all this is just making me cry more. But none the less I grab the cake in the back seat and climb into the guys tow truck. PS…seat is not attached to the floor. Nine-hundred dollars, one piece of cake, and a safety dance later, I am headed back home until February 2009.
February 2009…Two weeks prior, I won bunco. Second place, but won none the less. One week prior, I won at the casino. Day of…I am looking for every reason to back out. I have had knots in my stomach. I had knots in my throat. For many reasons, I am frightened. 1. I have a court date for a traffic ticket on Friday the 13th. 2. I will be in town on Valentines. Now don’t get me wrong. I am sure for some people Valentines is a great day. In a relationship or not, I can’t stand the day. I mean, don’t tell me you love me and get me flowers and candies because the calendar tells you to do so. Tell me on March 3, or October 13, or any of the other days of the year, because you mean it. (enough of my rant)….point is…I am stressing. So my boss tries to find something lucky. She gives me this, what she calls an Alaskan Yo Yo. It looked like two fuzzy animal balls. I couldn’t help but laugh. When the time came to leave work and start my drive, couldn’t help but pick them up and hang them on my rearview mirror. As I get to Beaumont, I could feel my stomach start turning. My knuckles turned white from gripping the stearing wheel. I was convincing myself that everything I smelled was my engine burning, gas leaking, etc. Every sound was the fan belt slipping, transmission knocking etc. It wasn’t, but right in the middle of “To be young is to be high” by Ryan Adams I switch off the radio. I did something that I have unfortunately not done in a very long time. I started talking.
I talked to God like I have never talked before. I told him everything I could think to tell him. I asked for forgiveness. I asked for help. I asked for strength in my family. I asked for me, my mom, my brother, my friends. I yelled. I mean really yelled. I told him I didn’t get things. I told him I was sorry. I just talked. I knew He knew everything anyways, but I just kept talking. I talked so much I was afraid to stop, because I knew there was so much I had not said. But in the end, I just stopped and put the iPod back on shuffle. It was on Bob Schneider…”and the world goes round.”
I have no luck. Not good or bad luck. I just put one foot in front of the other and hope that the decisions I make in that day will serve me well. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t. Either way the world goes round, and I get up and put one foot in front of the other and hope that the decisions I make in that day will serve me well. The decisions I made in my weekend adventure to Houston served me well(well all except for all the money spent…my bank account is not serving me well right now). I had a blast. I developed a friendship a little more. I got to see those that I miss and love. I met the most wonderful little boy in the world. I feel strangely connected to him. I wondered why I didn’t stay. More importantly, I remembered why I left. Things are good. I am not lucky, I am blessed.