Mar. 4th, 2002

coyotegoth: (Default)
...had an unexpectedly satisfying morning today, which in turn, led to a very thoughtful day.
First and foremost: We have a place to live! Lynn, through her real estate connections, bagged a (portion of a) house for us out in Farmingdale- 45 minutes by train from Manhattan, but that isn't exactly a drawback for me, these days. Even more happily- I'll be taking the cellar part of the house- in exchange for which, my rent will be shockingly low- about half what it was in the days when I was telemarketing and scrubbing toilets to make ends meet. Ergo, much money to be saved for trip- w00! (to give you an idea: I can cover last month's/this month's/security deposit out of one paycheck, and still have plenty of eatin' money.) The perpetual ache I've been feeling in my neck and shoulders for the last several months is pretty much gone; too, I'm kinda looking forward to Lawn Guyland- spent one of the best damn summers of my life out there, many moons ago.
I think this is exactly the catalyst I needed, to start pursuing dreams that don't involve sublimating most of my energy into trudging through yet another anxiety-laden day at Ground Zero. Many of my friends have- correctly- sung New York City's praises to me, and yes, it is an amazing place- but too stressful for poor l'il me. When I was home this weekend, the more relaxed pace caught me so off-balance, I was napping constantly- with three loud children in the house! Potsdam was a breath of fresh air; a chance to consider my future, outside the constant stress of life at Ground Zero. What a blessing...
In fact, while I was there, I read back through my last several entries, and found myself astonished- and bothered- by the constant, fatalistic bitterness which has seeped into my life of late. I don't like having it there, and I'm taking steps to change my environment so it won't be there. So, for everyone who's read through far, far too many jaded, cranky entries, a truly happy memory, from the house in which I grew up:

...my youngest nephew, Matthew, has Down's Syndrome. At the time it was first diagnosed, this seemed tragic; now, he's just Matty. Extremely intelligent, although he has a tendency to garble his words when upset or excited. Saturday night, while Sarah was at the Potsdam/Canton Hospital emergency room with Meaghan (strep; she's on the mend), and Dad was watching a hockey game at Clarkson, I was watching the boys. Patrick was engrossed with the computer; Matty was playing in the living room; I was watching TV, my position such that I could keep an eye on them both. At one point, Matty came running up, tugging at my arm- he was working on a puzzle. I then watched for half an hour, as he patiently sorted the pieces by color, and started assembling them (with only very minor assistance from Uncle Coyote), astonished afresh at how intelligent, how perceptive- he really is. It must be frustrating to him that he can't communicate as well as he'd like, but that was not a problem here; he spoke slowly, and I listened carefully, and praised his intelligence fulsomely, and he glowed with happiness, and so did I.

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