2011: My Year

I know – this is late.  For those smartasses out there, “this year” means 2011, not 2012. 

 

This year began in my beautiful Narada apartment overlooking Seattle with the ferries floating across the sky.  Arnaud was with me as the New Year arrived: he was with me in my life and bed and heart.  
He was also with me when I realized that I was undeniably broke.  I don't know what I would have done had he not been with me.  

I left my beautiful home in order to save money, and I have missed it every day since.   I did not realize at that point that 2011 would be a year of homesick wandering.   

We moved in February to a house-share in Capitol Hill where we joined homes with a person who was crazy as shit for a little under 2 months: it was hell.  Arnaud and I spent most of our time at bars just to stay away from the creepiness that was our home.  

Our housemate would not flush the toilet (environmental reasons), he covered the windows in plastic to keep out the cold, and he refused to turn on the heat (as in, he would get up in the middle of the night and turn it off if we turned it on).   Combine all these delightful attributes with also being a control freak, neurotic, nocturnal asshole, and this housemate lands the number one spot for 2011 Person I Would Most Love to Punch in the Throat.  

One morning as I came downstairs, already feeling annoyed by the inevitable encounter I was about to have, I heard, “Hey, can you bring back the batteries you took out of my remote?”  
As you may have already guessed, Arnaud and I had not taken the batteries from his remote.  In fact, I had a virtual barrel filled with batteries in my apartment – the notion that we would go downstairs in the cold, find his ancient remote and open it for some batteries from 1986 was a bit ridiculous, which is what I told him (in a nicer way, of course).  He responded, “Oh really? So I guess the batteries just jumped up and went on vacation, all by themselves?” 
He continued to leave notes saying “Please return batteries!!” for the next week on his remote so Arnaud and I could see. 

When we moved out a few weeks later he refused to return me the deposit until I threatened to call the police because we had “stolen his remote.”  Looking back I am truly grateful we were not murdered in our sleep.   His weapon of choice would probably have been a remote. 

 

I acquired a 2001 Saab --- in order to drive it I had to learn to drive a stick.  Arnaud taught me.  It is a miracle he still loves me.   I cannot imagine going back to an automatic.  I already knew that driving could be sexual, but I had never even HEARD of the positions that come from driving a stick.  Hot.    

 

In March I found out that a bizarre resident manager position I had applied for (along with three other young, thin, blond women – all of who had been led to believe they already had the job) and not received was again open – funny how in retrospect you can see what you should have done.   I might have asked, “So, why is the other girl already leaving after 1 month?”  But I chose the response, “HOORAY!”  Free rent in exchange for managing an apartment complex, and an easy way to escape a remote-obsessed psychopath equals turning a very blind eye to the obvious. 

So Arnaud and I moved again, out of the crazy house-share, and into the winner of “Worst Boss I Have Ever Had” category.   My boss, the owner of the apartments and a psychiatrist for sociopaths (seriously), turned out to also be a neurotic control-freak asshole, and was very obviously working out his issues on his apartment manager.   How can I know this for sure?  I can’t.  However, I did find out that I was manager number 23 in 5 years… the job provides a beautiful apartment in a beautiful neighborhood… and for 23 different people, it was not worth it to stay.  During the two months with the crazy boss I acted as maintenance woman, leasing agent and onsite manager… if anyone has a 1920’s bathtub that is leaking, I promise you I can fix it.   It was a “valuable” experience to work for someone who quite literally was never happy or even remotely satisfied with my work. 

 

I ran a Living Social ad and sold 448 coupons.  I ran another a few months later because I am a masochist: all in all I acquired almost 800 new clients in 2011.

Having this many clients is like driving a car: I love to drive, and I will continue to bitch about the traffic.

I met three other women, RANDOMLY, who had also been played by a certain gentleman in my past whose name rhymes with Paed Nalhas.  It’s a small, small world.   I really want to make a poster with his face on it, and the only words will be “Do you think he’s your boyfriend?  SO DID I!” 

 

In May Arnaud and I spent a week in Cozumel, Mexico.  It was the most magical vacation of my life – I think “Cozumel” has replaced the “heaven” archetype in my psyche.   I could be sweaty, half asleep and slightly drunk with Arnaud for a very long time. 

 

I got skunked on the Deschutes River for two days.  Arnaud and I stayed in a stinky hotel room right on the river and almost got caught by a fishing policeman dude (my fishing license had expired… and I am a lazy ass).  We got trashed at the Deschutes brewery and I learned that getting skunked can be really, really fun. 

 
I fished every chance I got, and Arnaud caught his first, second, third, fourth and fifth trout on a single trip to the Cedar River.  I have rarely been so proud. 

 

I drank a lot of sake with Arnaud, and we played a lot of cards. 

 

In June Arnaud and I moved out of the free apartment for the sake of our souls, and house-sat and dog-sat for my friends Rae and Rob for three months in their beautiful home.  During this time I fell in love with their two dogs, Oscar and Harvey.  I also fell more deeply in love with Arnaud from watching him interact with those dogs.

 

One of the dogs (Oscar) has some major issues.  Before Rae and Rob went on their trip Oscar began biting random people during his walks.  He is a small dog, but was doing some major below-the-knees damage in the neighborhood.  Because of this ongoing problem he was introduced to the muzzle, and Oscar, hated, that, muzzle. 

He didn’t fight getting it on, just a timid little twist of his head, but when it was announced, “OSCAR! Time for a walk!” he would now run and cower beneath the coffee table or couch, just out of reach, dreading the moment that muzzle restricted his ability to chew grass and wound old women.   
My response to this behavior was to fish him out, or to firmly call him to, “COME NOW”, or to take Harvey out alone in order to show Oscar that he needed to buck up and stop being a pussy. 

Then one day I watched Arnaud take the dogs out.   He walked to the door and announced the walk (I think they have a special connection because they are all French), and after putting the leash on Harvey he just stood by the door and waited.  And stood.  And waited.  And waited. 
He waited a full five minutes – and in my world that is almost out of my capacity to comprehend.   
I was skeptical (to say it nicely), thinking thoughts like, “JESUS, just GO GET HIM,” and other such dainty, sparkly phrases.   But after five minutes Oscar came slinking out from under the couch, slowly, slowly towards Arnaud and that muzzle. 
As I watched him slink towards Arnaud I felt my chest clench – I could see from his little body that he desperately wanted to go outside, but he really hated that muzzle.  Arnaud’s gentleness and patience let him figure out what he really wanted, and did not punish him when he finally figured it out at his own pace.  

 

I love this man who waits for me patiently while I am writhing and cowering under my proverbial couch, trying desperately to figure out what I really want.  His patience and gentleness continue to astound me. 

 

Arnaud left a few weeks after the house and dog sitting began.  He went back for many reasons, and when he left we did not know when we would see each other again. 
His departure undid me. 

 

My Mom and my brother came to visit me after Arnaud left – I felt their love through a haze of depression.  My family’s unconditional love is always there in my life – this year was no exception. 

I saw James Blake with my friend Trapper and fell so hard before the concert that I thought I had broken my leg.  I sat on the ground and watched with amazement as my shin sprouted an apple sized ball of swelling before my eyes.    

My friend Rae had been in the final stages of building a triplex in Capitol Hill when she left town, and in her absence I took over the project, acting as her stand-in as best I could.   I could not believe the amount of work involved, and was truly exhausted when she returned.   

Two of the guys who were building the triplex took me bait fishing in September – I caught on pretty fast and brought in three king salmon and quite a few rocks.  I still prefer fly fishing, of course, but it was magic to bring in fish that were basically my size.      

 

When Rae and Rob returned I put all of my belongings in storage where they remained for the next 2 and a half months.  

 

In the Fall I read the SOIAF series by George R.R. Martin and the Hunger Games trilogy --- You know nothing, Jon Snow… Peeeeta.   

 

I went to Toronto for the film festival in September, and got stuck there because of a stolen passport.  I had lunch with Iko Uwais and heckled (during the horrific film Anonymous) with Brendan Meyer, and saw some really amazing films (and some really, really bad ones).     

This year I finally admitted that knowing someone since childhood does not trump the reality of him being an asshole.  Or maybe I had just finally had enough… it often takes me way too long to say goodbye to a man.  

 

I bought a painting from Joseph Arthur after watching him perform for the umpteenth time.  During the concert I felt my friend Heather’s unborn baby dancing to the music.   Smart boy.  (Isaac was born in December, adding another member to one of my favorite families).  

 

I spent October and part of November with Arnaud in Europe. 

 

We went to Antwerp and looked at diamonds. 

We went to Amsterdam and had the best night of dancing to date - one of those nights where truly no one else exists and you can’t stop laughing. 

We went to Paris and finally went up the Eiffel Tower, which I hated.  We later found that Arnaud’s car had been towed, leaving us stranded in Paris at 4am in the freezing cold.  We stumbled to a random hotel for the night – the guy tried to overcharge us but ended up making a mistake and giving us the room for about 30 dollars – and for some reason that night is one I know will be in my mind when I die.  It was a clusterfuck, but it was perfect.   The wallpaper was so green in that room that it seemed to glow in the dark.  

We went to Brussels and Ath and ate Chinese food way too often and cooked food and did so many lunges after a run one day that we could hardly walk the next.   The beer really is as good as they say in Belgium. 

 

Leaving him in November was agony, as being with him was the closest thing to home I had felt in months.  

The day before I left we were out running errands and I was sitting in the passenger seat scowling, trying not to cry.  At some point I realized I needed to either tell him what I was feeling or beat out the windshield with my face, so I turned to him and said, “OH Arnaud, I just feel like BAWLING!”

He looked into my eyes, and said, “Then Charis, we will go bowling.”

This year I experienced the endless joys and frustrations of language difference. 

 

When I got back to Seattle I signed a lease on a beautiful, huge 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment in Capitol Hill with a gas fireplace and a loft.   It was a stunning space, and my loneliness expanded to fill every room - my loneliness there was mind numbing.  

 

I ended my 6-year not-seeing-Over the Rhine marathon, and in fact DID see them in concert.  It was one of the most beautiful concerts of my life (thank you Meghan). 

 

I spent Christmas in France with Arnaud’s family and New Year’s in Haute Savoire.  We ate home made foie gras and sledded down a mountain in the Alps. 

We went to Luxembourg and spent most of our time in H&M because of how boring it was.   

 

We celebrated my birthday together in Brussels the day before I returned to my lonely apartment, and it was the perfect end to a perfect trip. 

This year I felt homesick for the entire year.  

This year I worked so hard that I often felt I could not get enough air.  

This year I felt more lonely than I ever have before (I thought that was LAST year!?) 
 _______________________

It is January 24^th, 2012 as I write this, and I am 2 days away from moving back into the Narada… almost exactly one year, to the day, from when I moved out.  It's weird how I often don't connect things until I write them.   I broke my lease on the huge, lonely apartment.  My stomach hurts at the thought of moving again, but there is no doubt in my mind that I am going home.  

 

I feel exhausted as I recap my year.  I continue to be baffled by how security and stability elude me.  I know some version of those things is coming soon, it has to, but I am so tired of waiting for it that I could go bowling.  

And yet with all the exhaustion and homesickness there is gratitude brimming out of my eyes on a daily basis.  I am so fucking lucky.  I really am. 

When my eyes close at night and when they open in the morning, in those moments when I think about who I am and what I have, I am only grateful.  I am grateful, I am grateful.  

Comments

[Mindy]

i love you.
me.
ps: let's go bowling. really.

[Danielle O'Keefe]

Love love love every work of this Charis! You make me laugh! I hope that 2012 brings you much happiness and I am happy that I made a new friend this year! Cheers to 2012!

[Kensey]

This made me sob. Partly because I am withdrawing from my antidepressants, but mostly because I love you and am so glad you have Arnaud. And I am so proud of you. You are amazing. And beautiful. And smart. And sexy. And crazy. And my sister. Who I look nothing like. I can't wait to see you in a few days.