damage assessment

I read an article the other day about how living in cities makes you dumber (#1 in the list!) We all know that it’s stressful, but did you know that being in a city actually gives us, “worse memory, poor attention and learning problems?”

The article also goes on to cite a study that says that being in nature is good for our brains. Now, anyone who has spent any time in the country knows this. You can feel it. Unless you can’t. My dad and I used to call the amount of weird you feel when leaving the city for the country “damage assessment.” The bigger/more overwhelming that feeling is indicates how much damage living in the city has done to you.

Try it out! I dare you.

Immerse yourself in a city. Just go full-force. Check out the shows, go to the bars, spend lots of time downtown. Rush hour traffic. Horns. Construction. Frenetic pace. Then… go into the country. Get out of your car and walk aimlessly in a field or woods. If there is a rushing sound in your ears, a nervousness in your body, and your brain is making lists of things it thinks you should be doing instead of this frivolous walk… you have been damaged by city life. Spend some time there. Immerse yourself in the country. Smell flowers, go on nature hikes, lie in a field at night and make up constellations. Then go into the city. It will freak you out. Quick! Go back to the trees!

But I digress.

This post started off from me thinking about the idea of “community” and how much I miss living in an area where I can walk down the street and see people I know. This exists in cities and small towns alike, and if you are lucky enough to live in an area of a city that is a true neighborhood that includes a walkable cafe and/or bar where you can go and visit with friends, then perhaps your “damage assessment” will end up being lower since you aren’t having to battle traffic and noise and hassle just to hang out.

I miss porches and sidewalks and little walk-able cafes and friendly neighbors. I miss starry nights and drifting days. I grew up in the country, but there were a few other houses within walking distance (1/4 – 2 miles) and other kids my age. Before I could drive, this was my community. I would walk out of my house down the road to a friend’s house, or take my dog with me to the lake for a swim, or wander in the forest and make up stories while trying to catch snakes and avoid poison ivy. When I got older, I could drive into town and hang out on friends porches on those hazy hot summer days.

Of course the phrase, “you can never go home again” is not referring to a location, but a state of mind. My town is still there, changed, but still there. However, my relationship to it has changed drastically. I’ve been living in cities for so many years, I think I’ve forgotten how to relax. My damage assessment quotient is high. Sometimes I wonder if I moved back to a small town how long it would take for me to get back to that more calm state of mind where worry moves to the back burner, and time moves a little slower.

permanence

After four long, stressful years of struggling with Chase bank and their bureaucratic bullshit, my house sold yesterday! Yay! Time for a “house cooling” party.

It’s a little bittersweet. Kind of like getting out of a relationship. The first three years were pretty good, but the last four were difficult. While you are still in the relationship you hold out some hope that change might happen no matter how remote a possibility. Like, “I know that somehow I can figure out a way to transplant that house in Phoenix!” You know it isn’t actually able to happen, but you hold onto the threads. Once the relationship is over, you have to face the fact that teleportation doesn’t exist and your unrealistic hopes were, well, unrealistic. You remember the good times, but know that it’s for the best because there really were too many obstacles and neither of you were going to change substantially enough (or capable of)  to make it work (I sure as hell wasn’t going to move back to Chicago).

Yes, I am a statistic. I had a house that was waaaaay underwater and I couldn’t keep it. I tried to do the right thing and applied for a modification. This was in 2008. At the time, Washington Mutual had my account. They kept losing my paperwork, requesting new paperwork, disappearing whole departments I’d been working with the day before…. Friends told me to just walk away. It was 2008 and well, we all know where the economy went and what happened with the banks and the housing market. Instead, I got a tenant so that I could keep paying on my mortgage. I was trying to do the ‘responsible’ thing.

JP Morgan / Chase bought (acquired, took over, ingested?) Washington Mutual and I had a whole new corporation to deal with. I continued to try to get a modification and for the next two years continued to get stonewalled. I probably submitted a complete modification packet seven times because they kept losing my paperwork. It was truly maddening.

I received one notice of potential foreclosure about a year and a half ago. There was never a followup to that letter. Please foreclose and put me out of this Brazil-esque nightmare! I’ve submitted your 27b/6 multiple times now!

A friend of mine who went through a divorce got a notice and three months later the bank was moving to foreclose on his house. How did he get so lucky?

Finally, I decided to sell my house in short sale. If you decide to do this, be patient. You will have to open up your financial life in a way you never expected. The bank requires many months of bank statements, a couple of years worth of your taxes filings, your work history and W2’s… it’s frustrating, invasive, crazy-making. And it drags on… so you will have to keep sending up-to-date bank statements and earnings history.

But once it’s done, it’s done. Yay!
And then all you have to worry about is the IRS come next tax season. Fun!

(Obviously I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t even play one on tv, but I did consult 6 or 7 lawyers and 3 CPAs and they all told me that what one needs to do is file IRS form 982 . I also recommend doing your next taxes with an accountant.)

So, it’s over. The albatross is no longer hanging on my neck.
I can now look forward instead of having part of my past clawing at me.
Goodbye house that was my home for a while.

Sisyphus

It’s no secret that I consider myself Agnostic. And if you want to get really technical about it, I suppose I’d be considered more of an Agnostic atheist, although I do still identify as a Unitarian Universalist. (yay “free and responsible search for truth and meaning”) and dabble with my Jewish history (I like Hanukkah 😉 )

I’m reading Camus essays “An Absurd Reasoning: Absurdity and Suicide” – a sort of prelude to “The Myth of Sisyphus”. I haven’t looked at this book in years. The last time I picked it up was probably in 1998. Oh, I’ve flipped through it a few times over the years, but haven’t really given it much deeper thought. But now, as I read this first essay, I can’t help but wonder: if there is not some greater meaning, then what a cruel joke it is for us to have the capacity to wish for, yearn for, desire greater meaning. What is it in us that creates this terrible thought and desire?

It would be easy to say that God did this to us for some <quote Bible here> reason, but that to me seems just as ridiculous and vague as the idea of us longing for meaning when there is none. Camus calls it Absurd.

I wonder if Douglas Adams was right? In which case, I need a better calculator.