jakorte's blog

5/20/12
I made a commitment when I moved to Ann Arbor in August of 2010, that I would live as I would like to, within reason, with a reserve bit of caution. Pickings were slim; student schedule timing dictates availability, even for the working class. With the house already sold, and decreased night-time vision, I needed to move quickly. So, with limited choices, I chose to settle somewhere I would feel pampered. Amenities made the compromise between price and living in a budget conscious, semi-permanent state doable. My 900 square foot apartment has always been big enough for me, but this year the price tag outgrew the space. Hit with a 24% rent increase over two years, I’m saying that says a quite a bit about greed and new management. So, the hunt begins.

I am not intimidated by the prospect of re-grouping, re-gathering, re-settling. I’ve done it before; way more than once. Based on previous frequencies, my magic number seems to have been a seven tolerance. Michigan is closing in on fourteen, with five moves squeezed in. Even though now would be a good time to consider elsewhere, nowhere else is even tempting. I’m not happy about this turn of events. Given my nomadic ways, you’d think I’d have this routine down to a science, but I’m only as good as my current outline.

I’m not thrilled with the timing. I had more immediate plans on my agenda: replacing the dinosaur computer, re-losing 20 re-gained pounds, and then another 50 plus a few, transcribing 40 years of writing – some in scribbled hand, some typed, some meticulously copied into blank books, some in clean computer format. Already at war with myself over simultaneous tasks, I am given another assignment. “The How of Happiness; A New Approach to Getting the Life You Want” book is strangely subtitled, captioning a meringue-topped pie missing a significant cut: “This much happiness – up to 40% - is within your power to change.” I chuckle when I am handed this gem, because in a very short time, my therapist had honed in on my need for substantiation. “Facts, please,” is my most frequent request. Give me figures, proven scenarios, documentation, and I will consider another point of view. I haven’t cracked the cover yet but I‘m already knee deep in theoreticals. If you can be 40% happier once, why can’t you be 40% happier twice – or 3x – even better - 120% happiness. Intrigued, I’ve been alternating the search for a new abode with cognitive based, self-examination exercises for determining the happiness path that best suits me.

It’s Sunday evening, again, and everything I’ve aimed for today is either only half finished or wasted effort. The random ipod shuffle sound track for the day throws out the temporarily re-energizing “Tick Tick Boom” by The Hives, summing the whole thing up quite nicely. “You know I’ve done it before, and I can do it some more. I got my eye on the score, gonna cut to the core. It's too late, it's too soon, or is it? Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, boom.” I’m running out of time: to plan this move, to garbage out and re-pack. I’m running out of time in my weekend, in my one month lease renewal deadline mandated search. It’s 6:15 pm and all I want to do is nap. And eat pizza. Realistically, the latter isn’t possible without proper chewing surfaces, so, once again, my alternatives are limited. Standing in the middle of my it’s-going-to-get-worse-before-it-gets-better chaotic mess, I see no immediate resolution and therefore no point in going on today. So, I guess, nap it is. A short refraining reprise… at least until the dryer buzzer goes off.