Fancy like...homelessness?

 Someday, probably not very soon, I might blog about this part of my life.

I'm approaching 50,000 views on thishereblog. I've been thinking about celebrating that milestone (30,000 views of which are probably my parents).

Anyway. That's a lot of views, right? 

Surely I have something I could write about to celebrate this fantastic occasion?

I mean, it's a pretty big deal. I remember when I was proud for hitting 6,000 views.

So, I'm going to talk about my life right now.

At the moment, I am chilling in an AirBnB in my new town. Why am I AirBbBing it right now,  you might be wondering?

Because I am currently homeless.

There is no way to sugarcoat that. I'm not going to joke about it, laugh about it, or minimize it by saying it's a "first world problem."

When people ask me for my address, I laugh.

I don't have a permanent address. I will, eventually. But right now?

Nada. 

On the list of things I thought would happen in my life, homelessness was not on it. Nor was it on my Monica 2020-2021 Bingo Card.

And I don't know what this says about the last 12-18 months of my life, but homelessness is not the worst thing that's happened to me.

And when your life falls apart in literally minutes, TEN MINUTES TO BE EXACT, what do you do? 

I laughed. 

And then I found my favorite Tennessee liquor in a Kansas liquor store, which I have never, in my life, seen in a Kansas liquor store (Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey). (Also, I don't drink often and don't go to liquor stores often.)

Because that's the answer to life sometimes. 

Like I said above, there is no sugarcoating this.

The week that everything fell apart, I drank a little bit of Jack that night (Friday night), and I blogged.

It made me laugh the next day when I read my blog posts sans alcohol. I corrected a couple of little things, but mostly, everything I wrote was fine.

Dammit. It was more than fine. 

It was excellent.

(I'm good at this, even when there's some Jack involved.)

This part of my life will eventually be over. One day, I will have a permanent address. One day I will sleep in my own bed, that I own, under my own roof, which I will also own.

But that day is not today. And it won't be tomorrow.

Until then? 

There are things that you shouldn't say to me.

"This experience will make you stronger!"

I don't want to be strong.

"Everything happens for a reason."

No. It doesn't.

"God doesn't give you anything you can't handle."

Yeah, about that. Thanks for putting the thought in my head that God wants me to be homeless right now, because that's pretty much the only dark hole I haven't explored yet in this situation. 

Until life gets better, I'm just going to sit here, in my AirBnB, and think about the song "Fancy Like" and all the TikTok dances associated with it, and inside I'm all like, that song is literally a lactose intolerant person's worst nightmare. 

Also, next month I am going to one of the cities on my bucket list, a city that's not on my bucket list, and I am also going to Church, and I'm not talking about the religious institution. 

It will be glorious.

Also, I'm getting used to the whole 'my life is falling apart' thing. I don't mean to brag, but I handled this latest curveball like a champ.

I haven't cried once.

Am I reading a self-help book right now, and clinging onto depressing af quotes on Pinterest to get through?

Maybe.

To everyone reading this, comfortable in their own house, in their nice, warm bed with their partner beside them: I kind of hate you right now. Not going to lie.

Always.

 The third and last thing we need to talk about from last weekend is Oklahoma City.

On my way back from Dallas, I figured I'd stop at OKC and tell it hello.

Words cannot describe how much I love this city. Growing up, we always went to vacation in OKC and Dallas. I remember going to Bricktown, playing putt putt golf at midnight, and I remember the sweat dripping off of our faces because it was so damn hot AT FREAKING MIDNIGHT there.

Oklahoma City is a part of me just as much as Kansas is a part of me. 

I interned there in college. It holds a special, special place in my heart.

I stopped at the OKC National Memorial, found a parking garage, and walked to the Memorial.

When I lived in OKC that summer in college, I always went to the Memorial at night. One time, during that summer, a security guard stopped me and told me his favorite time to be there was at night, too. 

There was a group of kids listening to a tour guide as I entered, so I stood at the back of the group and listened.

One kid, maybe in second or third grade, asked why there was water at the Memorial.

The guide said that many Memorials have water features because water symbolizes life. You can't have live without water.

Water symbolizes hope.

From there, I made my way around the chairs, walking slowly, stopping to pause every couple minutes.

I remember when those chairs and the Memorial gates were bright gold. They've aged over the years, and now they're a dark bronze color. (There's a chair for every person who lost their life, 168 in total. The smaller chairs represent the kids who died.)

I finally walked my way around to the Survivor Tree, and when I saw the steps in front of. them, it felt like the breath was literally taken away from me.

(As I am now looking back at the photos I took, I did not take a photo of the steps. In the moment, I couldn't. I was too busy crying.)

I've never had this memory at the Memorial before. Maybe it was because it was a very nostalgic trip. Maybe it was because I was just so damn happy that my house in my hometown finally sold (to really good people, too). 

Maybe it was just the moment, but when I saw those steps leading up to the Survivor Tree, I immediately started crying. I cried like a baby. 

I remember my Dad teaching me photography there, at that specific spot. I remember the moment I was looking through my camera when I was little, with my Dad's guidance, with my brother and Mom looking on. I remember my Dad encouraging me to frame the shot correctly, and explaining the rule of thirds to me. 

If I looked hard enough, I probably could find that picture somewhere. 

Oklahoma City was where I learned the basics of what would eventually become my profession.

I started bawling at that memory. Those emotions hit me hard. 

I cried like a baby.

I couldn't cry at the concert, but the tears started flowing in Oklahoma City.

I let the tears come as I turned around the looked at the water, and then I looked up at the skyscrapers around me. 

This place always makes me feel so damn small in the grand scheme of life. 

I remember going to the site before the Memorial was even built. Back then, there was just a chain link fence around the site.

I remember going there when it opened, and I remember all of the media that was there, covering the event. I remember looking at all the members of the media, and I remember thinking, man, that's what I want to do with my life. 

I will always love this city. 

Always.

Dallas

 The second thing we need to talk about is Dallas, Texas.

While I was driving to the concert in Durant, I got a call from someone I had been working closely with. That person asked me what my plans for the weekend were, and when I was coming back to town.

I told them I was coming back to town on Saturday. That person encouraged me to stay an extra day, and take some time to enjoy myself and forget about the stress of life.

When I woke up Saturday morning, I wasn't totally sure where the day was going to take me. Dallas was 90 minutes away and Oklahoma City was a little further away.

I love me some Oklahoma City. I love love love love love that city.

But I've been there tons of times, I lived there for a summer in college, and maybe it's time to start making some new memories somewhere else.

I gassed up my car and headed 90 minutes south to Dallas.

And Dallas was very, very people-y. 

I loved every minute of it.

My favorite part of traveling by myself is that you don't really need to make plans. Just go with the flow, and allow whatever happens to just happen.

I first hit the Galleria, where I used to go ice skating as a kid. 

And let me just say that while I remember the place from 20 years ago, I had no idea it was that high class. As in, I know what all of those brands are now and I know how much they cost.

There wasn't a whole lot in that huge, massive mall that I could relate to. I went to the one store I felt comfortable in (Old Navy), and I stopped and got a pedicure on my way out.

That was a very good decision. 

There's not many words in the world to describe the feeling of getting your feet worked on (which was way overdue), after having seen your favorite artist live, after your house that you lived in for six years and LOVED TO DEATH finally sold to a good family, and after all of the pieces in your life just finally start to fall where they should be.

Dallas was a fun time. Also, it's huge. HUGE! 

It seemed like I spent all damn day driving, and I never even left the Dallas metro area.

I stopped and ate at a little Italian place I found along the way. It was one of the better meals I've had in my life. (Doesn't top Austin, though. In other news, Texas has really good food.)

Growing up, my parents always took my brother and I to Oklahoma City and Dallas for vacation. (We didn't go to Kansas City much at all, which makes us totally stand out and weird from every other western Kansas citizen ever.)

OKC and Dallas are my childhood. The entire trip was very nostalgic and sentimental to me.

I finally reached a place in my life where I could go to.both places and not worry about much else in the universe. (Ha, ha. That's really funny now.)

Dallas was a good time. Good city, good food, a little too many lanes of traffic for my liking, but I felt safe the entire time and had a lot of fun there. 

I'll be back sometime in the near future, for sure, Dallas.

Also, I'm terrified of heights. Glass elevators and big giant malls that are like 18 stories high aren't my favorite thing in the history of ever.

Best concert ever.

We need to talk about a few things on thishereblog.

We need to talk about Durant, Oklahoma, which is about 90 miles north of Dallas. We need to talk about Oklahoma City, my second favorite city in the world (first in Nashville), and we need to talk about Dallas.

The first blog will be about Durant. I have to say, this place holds a special place in my heart.

During a show in 2018, a week after a relationship that I was in ended, Eric Church hopped down into the audience during Springsteen and signed my copy of Rolling Stone (with him on the cover).

So, I'm just going to leave that right there.

Durant, Oklahoma rocks.

---

First off, I will say that I'm going to an Eric Church concert at the end of July. The show was postponed from last year. I've been looking forward to attending that show since the Covid vaccine first hit my arm back in January.

But the thing is, Mr. Church had a show scheduled for Oklahoma last week. 

And sometimes when Mr. Church is in the state beside you, you just gotta go see him and the band and have a damn good time.

The thing you need to know about the past year of my life is that nothing has gone according to plan. So when life totally sucks, sometimes you just need to take some time for yourself and do some good, old-fashioned self care.

I looked at the distance between myself and Durant, Oklahoma, and I discovered that I could totally make the show if I wanted to. 

...but the show had been sold out for weeks. 

Bummer, man.

About a week before the show, life got really stressful. I realized that I needed to attend that show to give my soul a little relaxing time. Single tickets starting popping up on Ticketmaster (people release them back onto Ticketmaster when they realize they can't attend, usually the week before the show). 

There were no pit tickets left, which was a major bummer because that's my favorite spot in the world, but there was a single seat available in the seats right behind the pit.

Hey, that works for me!

I left town that afternoon and started my trek south.

I will say that I pulled into the parking garage at Durant at 8:05, with the show scheduled to start at 8 p.m. However, my favorite artist is usually 30 minutes late, so I figured it'd be all right.

Good thing, too, because that line of cars in front of me moved at a snail's pace through that parking garage.

On the way to the show that afternoon, I passed the most horrible wreck I've ever seen, on the interstate, just inside the Oklahoma line. Traffic was stopped for about 30 minutes, in broad daylight on the interstate. Like I told my parents later, I couldn't even tell what the vehicle was. 

Car? Truck? SUV?

All that was left of it was a giant piece of twisted metal that resembled something that I've never seen before.

(I Googled it later that weekend. One person died.)

The entire time I was stopped on the interstate, before I drove past the wreck, I figured that someone had probably just lost their life. 

And it's hard to be irritated about possibly being late for a concert when someone just died 1,000 feet in front of you. I wondered a lot while I was waiting why it happened to that person and not someone else. 

Why do things even happen at all?

I didn't come up with an answer as to why things happen the way they do. All I could do at the moment was wait patiently, listen to some Church, and quietly say a prayer for the person.

---

I did make it on time to the show. I cut it pretty close. 

And when I saw that beautiful casino appear in my windshield, I let out the loudest, most primal scream ever.

It's time for Church! 

The thing that made this show special was that it was his first concert in 18 months, thanks to the pandemic. 

Eighteen months with no Church in my life is a really long time, guys. Technically, I hadn't been to Church in 25 months. (But who's counting?)

So, I knew this show would be special. 

I viewed it as a sign that the universe was finally moving on, and that the nightmare that the entire world has lived since Covid started was finally starting to end. 

By the time I finally sat down in my seat, one song played in full, and then the lights went down and the opening song that he always comes on stage to starts blaring through the speakers.

He came onto the stage to the same song that he always comes on stage to.

In my heart, I thought, wow. The more things change, the more they stay the same. In a world where not much of my life has made sense, this one moment, this amazing moment, that's the moment that it all finally started to make some sense.

From there, it was more than two hours of plain happiness.

Durant screamed. We shouted, we danced, we clapped, we cheered on his mistakes and probably a few of us even cried.

I tried really hard to cry at the show. I remember standing there (because no one sits at Church, not even one single person) and I literally tried to cry.

No tears came, though. So instead, I just sang as loud as I could, screamed frequently, and danced like no one was watching. 

It was the best thing ever.

It was totally worth all of the bullshit that I went through over the past year. 

I'll attach something that I wrote on Facebook that night later in this post. Let's just say that those two hours were probably the best two hours of the past year of my life. 

At one point, I sent a text message to my parents: "Eric is kissing fans."

That's when you know the artist missed his fans just as much as the fans missed him.

Oh. My. God.

Best concert ever.

----

My Facebook post:

The thing is, I’m a writer. I love words more than anything else in life.

Words cannot explain how much the past 12-18 months of my life has sucked. I don’t think I’ll ever write about it, because I literally can’t.

Sucked. Sucked. Sucked.

At this time last year, I even gave up listening to music. I cut everything and everyone out of my life and nothing and no one got in.

Except...there were people in my life who never left. And everyone around me dug me out of the deep, dark hole I found myself in. Thankfully they knew which way was up, because at the time, I could not see that.

And eventually music came back, too. It took weeks for that to come back into my life.

That being said, I will never get tired of hearing my favorite song performed live.

I have no more words at the moment. Right now I’m speechless, sitting in line at Taco Bell, after what was probably the greatest and most fun 2.5 hours I’ve had in the past 12-18 months.

I realize the world is full of people who lost way more than I did since 2019. I said a prayer for them today, and right now, I’m thankful that music and words and writing and friends and family are back where they belong in my life.

It’s time to move on.

I’m having a record year.

And ps, I know that Eric Church missed this just as much as we did the moment he started kissing fans tonight. (I wasn’t one of them, dammit.)