Showing posts with label Catalysts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catalysts. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Beyond Fear and Longing: On Burning Barns and New Moons

I bought a card yesterday, with a haiku by Masahide:

Barn's burned down,

now I can see the moon.


That pretty much sums up my life right now.

This Friday, will mark the third year of my life in Washington. I came here for work: the opportunity to teach in an innovative program and develop my teaching portfolio around themes of social justice, multicultural American literature and research writing. That it didn't really turn out to be as glorious as suggested has already been discussed in my other, password-protected blog and can certainly be gleaned from my angst-laden post below.

I stayed in Tacoma, trying to make my first house into my first home, and stumbling through that minefield called, "Love," hoping to find someone with whom to settle down and share a life and family. Family was threatened by my two-year saga with the cantaloupe-sized fibroid tumor, which made my uterus look like that turkey Monica had stuck to her head in that episode of Friends (even though, my ute was actually about the size of a roasting chicken). Love ... was not particularly loving. And, I almost lost my house.

Which brings me to the last five months.

My post on February 9th really did tempt The Fates, or reminded God that there were still more fun and fabulous ways of making a "testimony" out of me (to use my mom's word). I've generally kept the resulting grief either to myself, or saved it for occasional venting with my mom, friends, select colleagues, or my (now ex?) boyfriend.

But I googled myself recently and found that proof of my latest and greatest shame has been posted online, and so, I decided, what the hell, let's come clean.

But to do that, I must recap the "lowlights" beginning in May 2007.
  • First myomectomy in May - unsuccessful, with a $200 copay
  • Contract ends with my previous employer in June 2007, and despite applying to over 50 positions, I received no interviews
  • Spent the summer on unemployment, while enduring medically-induced menopause, 3 medical trips to Spokane (the third for my second surgery), and receiving assistance from my mom to cover my COBRA insurance because my roommate/tenant moved out when he found a cheaper place to live closer to work
  • The night I returned from my second surgery, some pricks crashed a stolen car into my property, destroying a large section of the cedar privacy fence and ripping open my cat's chest
  • I drained my retirement account in early Fall to get caught up on mortgage payments and help pay fees for what I'd hoped would be my last year as an A.B.D.
  • My cat was shot in the leg in October, as she sat in our front yard, during a spate of cat shootings in Tacoma
  • I tried to set up a Debt Management Plan in November, but was told that I made so little that the best option was to file bankruptcy. I didn't. I just began applying to jobs out of state.
  • My previous employers failed to communicate changes in my paydates, due to changes in my contract status, and paid me late, resulting in some additional late fees for me. I ended up making just over $900 in the month of January.
So, when the opportunity to join my current employers presented itself, I leapt at it. It was an AMAZING breath of fresh air... potentially the moon to my burnt barn... and it presented the opportunity to give back to a program that gave a lot to me when I was an undergrad.

That was supposed to be my happy ending. And I think, in some ways it is and will continue to be, but unfortunately, that barn blaze has been ... like ... a ten-alarm fire ... and it just ... won't ... die.

The day I moved to my new town, in fact, while I was unpacking the moving truck (my new employers paid to relocate me!), I was ambushed by an irate realtor who accused me of squatting. I showed her the lease agreement I signed with a guy who went by the name "Mark Stephens" and she scoffed, saying she knew the guy, but that he was a shyster who bilked the true owner of the house out of thousands and that, as a result, the house was in foreclosure and I would have to leave. That explained the good deal I got on the house, though since I was going to help the shyster develop that property and the one next door as retreat centers, I hadn't felt that it was that big of a bargain. No matter. It was a fraud. And his real name isn't even Mark Stephens.

Meanwhile, as I only had two weeks to relocate for work, I tried to find someone to whom to rent my house, who would also help me finish a few projects around the house. I interviewed a few folks, and settled on a guy, R.E.L. who had good references, a solid grasp on the mechanics necessary to complete the jobs, and he was old friends with a neighbor, whom I hold in very high regard.

It turns out, he completely misrepresented his financial situation and not only did he fail to pay his rent on time (i.e. paying in the middle of the month, rather than at the beginning, as he agreed to), but near the end of our five month entanglement, he didn't pay rent or utilities AT ALL. Dealing with R.E.L., was a nightmare, made trickier by the two-hour drive between us! Especially since, at the same time, I had to deal with my mortgage company and needed R.E.L.'s money in a timely manner, in order to save my house.

Three days after I moved to the Shyster House, I met a counselor to set up a debt management plan. This time, I made enough money to insure that I wouldn't have to file bankruptcy and we started the process of contacting my creditors to set up the plan. Unfortunately, the next week, I received paperwork from HSBC, my mortgage holder, saying it was beginning foreclosure actions against my home. Needless to say, I freaked out.

I knew I was behind, and had kept HSBC in the loop all along about what was going on. But, with my new position, I was clearly in a position now to do something about it. So I called HSBC and instead of finding a customer service agent who actually wanted to help, I found a jerk, Daniel Surls, who balked at restructuring my loan, said that if I put the house on the market I would still be liable for the prepayment penalty, and claimed that the only way I would be able to save my house would be to pay about $8000 in attorney fees and back payments by the end of March. I told him that I wouldn't receive a full paycheck from my new employers until March 25th, and that I'd received only $900 from my previous employer in January and about $1700 in February, but would net over $4000 a month starting in April.

Could we please set up a payment plan?
No. If you can't pay the $8000, then we could possibly make something work for $4000. If I had $4000 lying around, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Can I resume paying the mortgage, until we resolve the situation with the back payments? No, we'll return the payments. Can I pay the attorney fees, since they're about $1900 and have the back payments tacked onto the loan? No. Well, then could I do a Deed-In-Lieu of Foreclosure, since it was one of the options listed on the letter you sent me? No, those are illegal in the state of Washington. So then I got pissed. Why was it listed as one of the options available to me if it is ILLEGAL? I don't know. So what can I do if you don't help me?! First, we don't have to help you. You knew you had to pay when you took out the mortgage and the only way we can make something work is when you pay the attorney fees and back payments. Then I got REALLY pissed. I didn't choose not to pay. My life fell apart and I couldn't pay. I've explained this repeatedly over the last months, I've even offered to provide the police reports and medical records. How DARE you suggest that I CHOSE this!

Probably not the most productive response, but definitely merited. At this point, I decided not to bother with them anymore. My debt management planner is a HUD-authorized representative, so, I decided to let her deal with HSBC. And she tried. But the customer service dude she contacted, Robert Osborne, gave her the run-around and insisted that she have me call back and ask for him. So I did... or at least I tried to. As one customer (dis)service agent informed me, HSBC is a multinational corporation and I can't expect to simply ask for someone by name; I need his extension number. Apparently, HSBC is too big to have a functioning company directory. Or maybe not, because when I called back, I spoke to a database-savvy woman named Anita who was able to find Robert's extension and .... TRANSFER me! Wow.

By the time I got to Robert, I was in a justifiably foul mood. I've never been impressed by HSBC's shoddy customer service and was absolutely appalled by their behavior when they first bought my mortgage, so I admit I had very low expectations of the man ... like Australopithecus low. But he was actually ... humane and treated me with decency and respect and actually offered solutions.

By the time I found him, a month and a half had passed (my uncle passed away suddenly, which has continued to effect me in a host of. ways) and the attorney fees had almost doubled. But, he assured me that if I paid the attorney fees by the end of the month, then my loan would be restructured to $1460/month and the back payments would be tacked onto the loan. At first, I scoffed, since this was exactly what I had asked Surly Surls for, back when the attorney fees were a fraction of what they were 6 weeks later, but Mr. Osborne assured me that it was real. And so, the only bill I paid for the month of May was a power bill and my debt management payment. I paid nothing else, and still had to borrow money in order to pay the over $3000 in attorney fees by May 31st. But then, near the end of the month, a different guy from HSBC, John Martinez began calling, claiming that Mr. Osborne's offer was not in the system. John returned to Surly Surls script and insisted I pay a lump sum of 3 months payments plus attorney fees, and then my loan would be restructured. I ... PITCHED ... A ... FIT!

No profanity, exactly, but I may have said something about HSBC being a den of liars and cloven-hoofed jerks ... or I might have just been thinking it REALLY loudly.

Finally, I said, "Fine. I will file bankruptcy and you can keep the house. Good luck selling it in this market." John changed his tune then. Suddenly, Robert Osborne's numbers would work. In fact, he's even over-calculated since the attorney fees were only $3163 and not the $3175.50 as Robert Osborne had claimed. Oh and that bit about Deed-in-Lieu's being illegal in Washington? Well, Daniel was just mistaken. It's not that they are illegal in Washington, rather, since Washington is a non-judicial state, HSBC won't accept them. But, if I make the attorney fee payment via Western Union Quick Collect by May 31st, then the Notice on Deferment will be prepared June 1st and the Ancillary Adjustment Notice will be sent out the next Wednesday, reflecting the $1460 a month. Oh, and there will be no payment for the month of June. So then I made a silly request. I asked for the terms of the restructure to be put in writing and faxed, emailed or mailed to me.

Oh, we don't do that. What? You expect me to pay a huge sum without something in writing that confirms our agreement? It's not how we do business. Well then how can I know that you will honor our agreement? You have to trust me. I don't. Well you have to. This is unacceptable!! Hold on.

At this point, he gets his alleged boss, John Golden, on the phone, who was a throwback to Surly Surls' rude, dismissive and denigrating manner. When he also went down the path of suggesting that I chose not to pay them and should accept whatever they give, I just about threw the phone against the wall, but it's expensive. Instead, I told him that I would have to file bankruptcy and he back-pedaled, just enough to give John M's spiel about trusting them about the restructured payment as outlined by Robert Osborne. I acknowledged that my back was against the wall, and that I would trust them, but if they shafted me, they would not hear the end of it.

Well, the day before the Ancillary Adjustment Notice was supposed to be mailed out, I found out that the house on which I had signed a year-lease had been sold and I would need to find yet another place to live ... in less than two weeks. So, needless to say, impending homelessness, combined with the never-ending saga with my flaky Tacoma Tenant, R.E.L., and the rapidly increasing pace at work, meant I had NO time to follow up with HSBC. But, I made sure that they received my July payment of $1460 within the grace period and assumed that the paperwork had simply been lost in the mail. Back in the day, my fifth-grade Social Studies teacher tried to teach me the error of assumptions ("Assume makes an ass out of u and me"), but here it is, some 20+ years later, and I still have not learned.

I didn't receive the Ancillary Adjustment Notice, because, apparently, no such adjustment has been made. Rather, I received a letter saying that I was behind a payment of $1787.28 and that another payment of $1687.28 "will soon be due." I have tried calling the 800 number listed on this latest missive, but even though I call during the hours they have listed (but after I get home from work), the customer (dis)service division is always closed and of course, there is never an option for keying in an extension number and reaching someone directly, as I would very much like to revisit my conversations with Robert, John and John. Oh and the funny thing: the recording claims that HSBC received my recent payment (so much for missing a payment) and the amount due is $1680.28, not $1687.28... a piddly difference, I know. But seriously, can this company keep any of its facts straight?

One would think that I'd.be pissed. Or even blinded by rage at this point. But I'm not. Between dealing with these Highly Suspect Business Cads and dealing with R.E.L. who abandoned my house sometime earlier this month, owing me a good chunk of change and leaving a host of work unfinished, I'm just tired, and determined to choose my battles.

If the Tacoma house is destined to be my burning barn, then I'm about ready to pull up and toast some marshmallows.

I would like to have HSBC honor Robert Osborne's offer, so that I can make things right with my debts and my credit, and so that my neighborhood, which is in the midst of a wonderful renaissance doesn't suffer any blight because of me. Barring that, it would be great to have the pre-pay penalty waived so that I can put the house on the market. But these assume that HSBC knows the meaning of "honor" and knows how to act honorably, which it's pathologically unreliable behavior thus far, suggests otherwise.

I find it stunning that a company whose representatives cozied up to Senator Christopher Dodd, last year, to reassure him that they were in fact helping homeowners in distress (in accordance with the Homeownership Preservation Summit Statement of Principles), would so clearly NOT be helpful. I find it especially amazing that HSBC's shareholders LET the company behave in this manner. After all, I suspect that many of the people who finally let the foreclosure process happen only due so after their own lengthy sagas with the Surly Surls and Golden Boys of their respective mortgage holders.

So what, pray tell, is the moon to my burning barn of fiscal shame and misery?

A yurt!

I've longed for one as the first step towards building my own strawbale home for many, many, many years. Now that my credit is shot and the cows will come home to the fat lady's bellow before I ever apply for or receive a mortgage again, I am curiously free to reconsider my progressive-green-libertarian-Smith-Family-Robinson-wannabe core. It also helps that where I am living, there is reasonably affordable land, a culture of owner-financed land contracts, a variety of natural and green-built homes and ample sun and wind for alternative energy. In short, I think I've found my Mecca.

I've had my experience with conventional home-ownership and am unimpressed. Why sidle oneself with a huge expense for 30 years when one can spend 5 - 7 years creating an intentional home-space, in a manner that costs less and means so much more? Why misdirect ambition to focus on scoring the job that will pay the big bucks that allow you to buy a bigger house and have a greater vulnerability to the vicissitudes of health, employment, natural disasters and corporate pathologies?

For some people, the answer is clear:
"Shut up you pinko commie!"

But for me, it's not so clear, and never has been.

For years I've yammered on about wanting to live a life of intention and creation. And so I've taken up crochet projects, crafted pretty cool collages, entered writing competitions, and have become a bit of a Fascist in the garden. But, I've really been living a life driven by fear: fear of being alone, fear of being unemployed; fear of being homeless, fear of illness... But having experienced each of these in some degree in the last two years, I've learned... that there is life beyond fear. And it can be a rich and fulfilling life, even if it looks a little different than the one for which I was taught to strive.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Transforming "Maybe" Into "Yes!"

Last night I completed a manifestation collage that represents the major milestones and foci for 2008.

And today, I received an interview invitation for a position I applied for just last night!

Woo hoo!!




Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Moving from Dark to Light

When I compare last New Year's Eve to this one, I am amazed by how prophetic the last one was and how hopeful this one was.

For the 2006 New Year's Eve, I was sprawled out on a couch at my friend's place in Arizona. We had just gorged on homemade Pakistani food, and spent the evening playing 80s Trivial Pursuit, while watching various "I Love the 90s" episodes on VH1. It was relaxing. Almost like cocooning. And prophetic, since 2007 was the most emotionally, financially and professionally taxing year of my life. It was like I needed a big ole dose of repose and good friends to kick off the year, because God knows, I only got through last year thanks to the grace of loving family and friends (who were, in SO many ways, the face of God for me).

This New Year's Eve was different. I was a little pouty because I had hoped to be in NYC with my cousin, my best bud from Australia, my dear friend who had hosted me in Arizona last year, and his former roommate. But really, I didn't mind. I had stuff to do, and I stayed home to do them. And it felt good. Doing work on my dissertation. Submitting more job applications. Running some errands. And when it came time to be festive, my roommate and I checked out the return of Tacoma's First Night festival. It all felt good; like one of my best days when I am my best self. And it got me thinking.

I've not been my best self IN YEARS. I've had some GREAT days and SPECTACULAR weeks and even months. But, I've not had the passion that I once had in my approach to living. For too long, I've acted like life is a chore, rather than a gift. A series of obligations to fulfill and rules to follow, rather than an opportunity to discover my gifts and put them to good use. Frankly, I've been too frightened to do so. And somewhere along the way, I lost faith.

So yesterday, as I did some photocopying in the UWT library, I had a sort of epiphany. I'm not finishing the dissertation because I have to. Or because it would make my mom proud. I'm not making a career change because it's all about the money. Or because I'm a failure. I'm finishing my dissertation because it is mine: my journey, my meditation, my achievement. I'm changing careers because I chose my current one for the wrong reasons. I accepted the position and left California out of fear. Fear is not a foundation for building a life.

It's a conclusion that I've been coming to rather slowly over the years. But I think it all came to ahead in 2007 because I had SO much to be afraid of, that frankly, I kind of burned out on it. Unemployment... intramural fibroid and two out of three gynecologists telling me I'd likely need a hysterectomy... someone crashing a stolen car into my fence and nearly gutting my cat... another person shooting that same cat a month later... really bad judgment about men... and most of this came to a head in the last six months of the year, leaving me with a pile of debt and no small amount of anxiety.

But by the time Advent kicked off on December 2nd, I had come to the conclusion: I will survive, because this too, shall pass.

And it was weird because it wasn't like I made up my mind to just put on a happy face and hope for the best. It was just something I knew. I will survive. This, too, shall pass. There is light at the end of my very dark, obstacle-ridden tunnel. And I'm pretty sure I can see it.

Of course, it helped that the homilies during Advent always seemed to function as nice little weekly reminders. You know, especially when my Seasonal Affective Crankies were in overdrive.

My favorite vignettes from Fr. Steve's and Fr. Alan's Words O' Wisdom:
  • Change, especially important change, is difficult. We don't like it when we're awakened because waking up can be painful. Much in our culture encourages us to be numb and asleep. We need to pray for guidance in those parts of our lives where we are numb and asleep. We need to pray for urgency.
  • Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary evidence. We need to bring the evidence of our transformation into the world.
  • Whether or not the gods are in charge is an open question. The answer as to whether we are in charge is no. God's plan is often carried out by really quirky people. We need to plan for the future, but we want to deepen our faith in God's plan.
  • The only way for absolute control is to be oppressive, which destroys life.
At any given moment, what these vignettes mean to me vary. On Christmas Eve, reflecting on them, combined with the fact that there was a full moon, led me to perform a little Full Moon Purge with a glass of wine, scraps of paper scrawled with the names of every bad event or action that made 2007 WAY too interesting, and my wood stove. It was nice. Satisfying. Cleansing.

The afternoon of the 8th, with the New Moon, I plan to complete a Manifestation Collage to really help me reflect on the sort of events and actions with which I hope to FILL 2008. Because I'm realizing: gestures of hope matter.

So many of the consequences from last year have carried over into this new year. So many issues are unresolved. But I hope and believe that there is light at the end of my tunnel, that the way will become less rocky. Not because I'm fond of cliches, or because I'm naive.

I just feel like I have finally rediscovered my faith. It is with that faith that I pray Henri Nouwen's prayer:

Come, Lord Jesus, to that place where I am weakest,
For that is the place where you can
Make your manger, and bring your light.


Thursday, November 8, 2007

In the Interim

This week, I've been reading and musing over the November issue of The Atlantic Monthly (you know, when I've not been catching up on grading, financial management, and healing the wounds of misplaced affection).

As it was its 150th Anniversary issue, it ran a lengthy series of vignettes on "The Future of the American Idea." The respondents include politicians, scholars, artists, authors, politicians, etc. and I will be writing a meditative reflection on their reflections later this week. In the interim, I've decided to share a poem that appeared in my inbox, courtesy of NPR's The Writer's Almanac:

The Necessary Brevity of Pleasures by Samuel Hazo, from A Flight to Elsewhere. © Autumn House Press, 2005.

Prolonged, they slacken into pain
or sadness in accordance with the law
of apples.
One apple satisfies.
Two apples cloy.
Three apples
glut.
Call it a tug-of-war between enough and more
than enough, between sufficiency
and greed, between the stay-at-homers
and globe-trotting see-the-worlders.
Like lovers seeking heaven in excess,
the hopelessly insatiable forget
how passion sharpens appetites
that gross indulgence numbs.
Result?
The haves have not
what all the have-nots have
since much of having is the need
to have.
Even my dog
knows that - and more than that.
He slumbers in a moon of sunlight,
scratches his twitches and itches
in measure, savors every bite
of grub with equal gratitude
and stays determinedly in place
unless what's suddenly exciting
happens.
Viewing mere change
as threatening, he relishes a few
undoubtable and proven pleasures
to enjoy each day in sequence
and with canine moderation.
They're there for him in waiting,
and he never wears them out.

Friday, June 1, 2007

In The Beginning...

In some ways, it’s a misnomer to call this blog “The Accidental Hippie.” After all, it’s not like I woke up one morning and found myself in itchy tie-dye, cradling a hookah and a poorly groomed stranger.

In fact, I have long considered myself a Champagne Hippie, favoring good food, fine wine and comfortably elegant fashion & housewares – just as long as they're mostly organic and socially responsible (i.e. less sweatshops and factory pharming; more artisans and free-range husbandry, s’il vous plait).

But there were some things that I just could not bring myself to do, some changes that were just too hard to make.

But in the last year, and particularly in the last couple of weeks, I received a swift kick in the pants. Meet my "inner necessity":


No, this is not a cornish game hen. This is my uterus (dark pink mass on top) with a very large intramural fibroid (the lighter pink, veiny monstrosity at the bottom). Last week I drove to Spokane to have it removed, but when my surgeon got inside and saw this, he realized that in 30+ years of practice, he'd never seen anything quite like it. I'm "kind of" adamant about not losing my uterus (because I really want kids, hormonal balance, bladder control and uterine orgasms); but my doctor wasn't sure he could guarantee that. So instead, he stitched a couple of arteries feeding Fi, stitched me up and gave me a shot of Lupron. The new plan: hopefully shrink it over the next three months and try the operation again in August.

So, what does this have to do with my becoming an Accidental Hippie?

EVERYTHING

Fibroids apparently flourish when women don't get enough fiber, eat too much sugar, and have unresolved mind-body-spirit issues. So, after Fi was diagnosed in April 06, I began to sort of half-ass my way to a better lifestyle: I joined a gym and saw a trainer twice a month; ate mostly organic fruits & veggies; integrated flax meal into my diet at least 3 times a week; had weekly acupuncture appointments; joined my parish choir and really did some spiritual "work." But as I stared at the stills and the short video, the only coherent thought I could form was that I hadn't done enough.

In the spirit of Hunter Thompson ("Call on God, but row away from the rocks"), I took stock of my life and recognized three colossal OOPS:
  1. When it comes to my body and my health I have way too often, and for way too long, chosen the path of least resistance: minimalism. If it's fast, easy and cheap, I will do it. If it requires a major paradigm and lifestyle shift ... I'll think about it.
  2. When I was first diagnosed, I went into a cathartic, but in the end, profoundly counter-productive Do-Mode. I remodeled my kitchen and my office, only contracting out the plumbing and electrical work. But I financed all this change with a home equity loan, Home Depot credit and the credit cards I had just paid off when I refinanced. Beyond $tupid. Because, of course, these are debts, not windfalls and I have backed myself into a painful corner of high payments and insultingly high interest rates. Casey Serin, I am not. I am in the process of paying it all off, and tightening my belt in standard and creative ways.
  3. I have subscribed to Green Guide to Go, Organic Gardening and Natural Home for years, and I am a long-standing Co-Op America member. But the extent to which I have really done my part to help heal the planet has been limited to that which is fast, easy and cheap, with an emphasis on easy and cheap.
So, I am making a change.

I suspect it will be full of fits and starts, as well as modest successes. This blog will chronicle my progress and my pitfalls as I try to live a healthier, more fiscally responsible and socially and environmentally sustainable life.