Howling at the moon

Summation of last week in a word- difficult.

Today has been mainly spent trying to re-establish my equilibrium. Necessary and also difficult.

Now for a more detailed version of what went down.

I arrived in Phoenix, picked up my car (more on that later), and went to the Phoenician. I had never actually been there before- as an art student, 5 star accommodations are a bit out of reach. But it was lovely that evening. Then I took some of my co-workers (boss included) to one of my favorite pubs from school days. It was a fun and relaxing evening. I wish the rest of the week had been likewise fun and relaxing, but thems the breaks.

I had forgotten one of the key bete noirs of Phoenix and the desert (besides sun + my skin = very bad things) - the pollen count. It kept me awake nights with allergies. Who needs sleep, anyway? We were there to conquer the world. Only I was there to really work.

Now, I am not really complaining that I was there for a purpose. I really am not. Only I would have hoped that the workload would have commiserate rewards. Only, alas, because of the overwhelming incompetence of the events staff with whom I was working, and the organizational pratfalls of others, it was not to be. I got tarred and feathered by residual event mishaps. I owned a couple- but they wouldn't have registered on the radar, if there hadn't been a cumulative effect in action. And that sucks. And that has made me howl at the moon for several days. All prickly and evil inside.

But probably the most difficult part of the trip had nothing to do with work, assorted difficulties, and angry bosses. It had to do with revisiting the scene of the crime, if you will. I hadn't been back since The Boy graduated, got a job, and sprung us from the desert. I got to re-establish contact with the angry, and very unhappy girl who lived there on Ash in a dumpy little apartment without air conditioning. There was so much to sift through that I am still trying to figure it all out. It was sad. It was not so sad. It was confusing in all.

I went to visit my favorite art in a couple of museums. That made things considerably better. It was also when I discovered that someone prior to me had peed in the driver's seat of my car. And the 93 degree heat made it very obvious. And very odious. And just odoriferous. When I returned it, I did get a refund. But it was something to be endured prior.

What I came away with is the realization that I am further along in the battle to feel comfortable in my skin. Most of the generalized anger has been defused, and what remains tends to be more specific and limited. And I don't like the desert. Everything looks dusty and shabby. I don't like the sun. I don't like the evil mountains, where people can die on a hike if they lack water. I don't particularly like who I was. And today, am fighting back to liking who I am.

The plane trip back was delayed for 2 hours, and I sat next to a man who talked continually the whole time back about himself. Funny thing, though- I feel like I gave him a gift of listening to him. He probably didn't notice, but I feel better than if I had shut him down. Besides, what else was I going to do? Sleep? Not likely. That is returning slowly- as I get all of the spinning words out of my head.

Overall, glad as hell to be home. And I hope to put all of the difficulties in tidy little consumable packages- lessons to be learned, mistakes not to be re-made, things I refuse to own, character flaws to remember, and my own personal re-acquaintance with demons of yore.

And then I bought sweaters. And a lovely coat. For very, very cheap. Because I still remember where the deals lie in the Valley of the Sun.