Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York
So last week after a few stressful, tense and unsteady days with me and Marie worrying about money, worrying about work - me not having any; and her not liking hers - we had a bit of a meltdown on Sunday when we got up, as Marie'd gotten completely bombed the night before as her response to the stress, and I'd gotten pissed because I'd just wanted to watch a damn movie, not to mention that both of my ex-wives had cheated on me in that kind of blind drunk, and of course seeing her like that brought up some old feelings that I guess I still haven't fully processed. Ain't life a bitch. And Marie didn't like hearing my thoughts, as like she had told me a few days before: "There's not much room for me with all your ex-wives hangin' around." Well, fuck me... And after we argued and I'd told her that it really bothered me seeing her that way - blind piss drunk - and she'd told me that she didn't want to feel judged I got out of the house for a while on the invitation from an old friend from Utah who lives around the corner and wanted to know if I wanted to watch the NBA Playoff game at the bar. I just wanted to get out of the house for any reason right then.
At the bar, gettin' out of town seemed like a good idea after a couple of beers as I felt like I was stuck in some sort of bad rerun of my previous relationships. And I knew how the show ended: the woman gets drunk and cheats. 'Fuck that', I thought, 'I'll just get the hell out of here.' I wasn't gonna wait around for that to happen. I was feeling like shit anyway. I was broke, jobless and feelin' like a leper that no one wanted around. I felt like I was just a fucking problem, and that getting out of the way would solve the problem.
After the game I followed my old high school friend to a birthday party deeper into Brooklyn where I stayed for an hour or two and had a couple more beers. And somehow just being out of the house started to ease my mind some. I just needed to relax. I just needed to chill out. Things would work out. And when I got home Marie told me that her best friend husband were on their way over. They showed up not five minutes after I walked in the door. And I guess that Marie and her friend had talked about the meltdown we'd had earlier that day as Marie's friend's husband asked me if I wanted to go upstate with him for the week and paint their house for some money while he worked on some cabinetry for a client in New York. And I went. It was perfect. It would give me some time to think and make some money. And it would give me and Marie a probably long over due break.
Marie's lucky to have those two in her life. They're great. And I feel lucky to have them in my life too. I needed a little help, and they gave it to me. I consider them family. The husband put me up, bought my food and alcohol, rented us some movies to watch at night and paid me at the end of the week. It was just what I needed, as I realized how much I loved Marie being away from here for the week. And I realized how much I didn't want to go back to Austin and how much I really wanted to be in New York. And I knew I had to stick it out, come hell or high water.
I was feeling pretty depressed for a few days up there, as I felt like my life was in limbo. I felt unsure of how to break into New York and not just get a toe hold into work, but also how the hell I was going really change my life and become a writer. Fuck, I was havin' a hard enough time just keepin' my head above water, let alone becoming a writer. And one day when I went jogging - to knock the depression back - after painting the house all day I saw a bluebird out of the periphery of my vision, just like the one tattooed on my arm with the banner - Faith - written across it, and I nearly cried as the sign was clear - just have a little faith man.