No Time

I know I haven't updated in a long while. I have a long post I need to make about the 2nd salvage effort, but it's so daunting and there are so many pictures that I need to go through that it's prevented me from posting the small things. I've been on the road for the past week, and I leave on Wednesday for Japan (this is the vacation that I planned and bought tickets for about 2 weeks prior to the fire). Life is hectic, but it's a good hectic when I'm traveling. I'll be off the grid until I return.

Hollywood

My old apartment complex is famous.

You can see it in 0:07-0:09 of this trailer. With Christopher Walken! Thanks Miguel :)

Salvage Day Part Deux

We're getting another "salvage" attempt soon. I use quotation marks because I don't think there's too much else worth salvaging in my unit, but I'm using the opportunity to a) take a lot more pictures, b) have a chance to do some directed searching for a few specific items, now that I've had a chance to think about it, and c) say goodbye.

Exhausted

I got less than two hours of sleep last night. I just couldn't sleep. I must have spent a good 5 hours in bed, with my eyes closed, trying (and failing) to relax. It made work today extremely painful.

So, in an effort to treat myself a little better, I:

1. Took a 2 hour nap immediately after work
2. Watched two episodes of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia with Lani
   
3. Took a long bath and a long shower
4. Used some of the lavender oil my mother sent me
5. Swore off alcohol and caffeine (well, maybe 1 cup of tea a day...) for the immediate future
   
6. Am going to 6am hot yoga tomorrow morning, will continue as-needed to detox
   

I'm hoping this will do the trick. And with that, I'm out.

Things I Am Incredibly Grateful For (Part 1 of ...?)

• My wonderful family.
• My fabulous friends who are scattered across the globe.
• My mother, who clearly spent a lot of time and effort putting together the most awesome care packages.
• Lani, who has given me ROCK SOLID strength, support, humor, and dance parties in a town where I have no family and few friends.
• Everyone at work for their overwhelming generosity and understanding.
• The tenants of 1410 Central SW, all of whom I have come to know or know better. Even though they might not realize it, they are all helping me understand and cope in different ways.
• All of the awesome people who have come into my life since the fire.
• Barbara and Dolores and the rest of the neighborhood folks who have volunteered through the blood sweat and tears (literally!) to help all of the tenants out.
• The kindness of strangers.
• Knowing how it feels to be homeless.
• Knowing how it feels to be dependent on the generosity of others.

It's a start...

Cause of Origin

Everyone wants to know what started the fire. I really can't say too much about this right now. The official report from the city did come out, but the conclusion was that the cause of origin was indeterminate (due to the fact that the city investigators weren't able to safely access the evidence they needed).

Unofficially, I think everyone involved recognizes that it was an electrical fire. And I will reserve any further comment on this subject for a later time.

First Books

My first books are in my bedroom. I ordered them from Amazon before the fire, and fortunately it took long enough for the packages to get through the postal system to miss the fire. I recently picked them up at the post office where they are keeping our mail for us.

They are:

• Time Out Tokyo
• Lonely Planet Japan
• Langenscheidt's Japanese Pocket Dictionary

I'm going to Tokyo on October 7. There is something about touching and smelling my first new books that is incredibly satisfying.

'cause you asked...

Two posts in one day, to make up for my silence over the past few days.

Lots of folks have asked to see my "Sorry!" Registry. I was hesitant to make one, because I don't want anyone to feel as if they are obligated to do anything, but for those who have been asking, I put some items that I'm going to eventually buy anyways on a Target list.

But again, please don't feel obligated in any way. I love all of y'all who are keeping up with my blog and sending me encouragement <3

The Salvage Effort

Thursday was salvage day for my quad. One "quad" consists of four apartments (two upstairs, two downstairs) connected by the same hallway. There are five quads in the building, and mine was the first to have a designated salvage time. The other four quads will have their chance to salvage items this week.

Like most of the residents, I was a little torn about the salvage effort. On one hand, I was excited at the prospect of maybe pulling some antique jewelry and a few other meaningful things from the remains. On the other, I was pretty sure just about everything was a loss, and I expected seeing and going through remains to be a very smelly, unpleasant experience. Aside from the smoke and fire damage, I was certain that water was going to be the main source of damage in my apartment. My apartment saw very few, if any, flames. But six acre-feet of water was dumped on the building within a 24-hour period, and shortly after the fire trucks left, the windows and doors to my apartment were boarded up. Then three weeks went by. I was fully prepared to see not my apartment, but a big, sopping, smelly, moldy, disgusting wreck.

I had seen the pictures of Dallas and Ren's apartment (apartment 38; the one right above mine). I was struck by how eerie the pictures were. Amongst the complete and utter destruction, one white chair stuck out and looked almost pristine. Everything else was unrecognizable.

Thursday morning, I ran out to Big 5 to buy some running shoes (up until then, I had been getting by with just my new flip-flops and my work flats). Almost everyone commented on my bright white new shoes in contrast to the ashen task in front of us. I just shrugged… all shoes have to be broken in sometime, and I feel nerdy when I wear super white sneakers, anyways.


Dallas and Ren went in first. I saw them come out with a few treasures. A box of diaries, badly damaged but perhaps archivable in some way. A clay handprint from a daughter from when she was a child. The infamous white chair from the pictures.

I wandered around the outside of the property and took pictures for a while so I wouldn't get in anyone's way. There was a series of large piles of debris in the courtyard. Most of it was just gray, unrecognizable matter: a mixture of ash, wood, insulation, paint, concrete, dead skin cells, and cat hair. Within the gray matter were various treasures. Unopened bottles of wine and beer and ouzo. A rubber ducky. A refrigerator magnet. A Les Miserables CD. A Jersey Girl DVD. Shower gel. A book with a handwritten inscription from dad, the cover charred to the point of unrecognizability.


Leticia, Jeb, and Lauren went in shortly thereafter. I saw Mr. Vigil excavating loads of clothes and shoes from Jeb and Lauren’s closet. Leticia's electric bass came out of her closet looking damaged, but maybe okay. I was still outside waiting for the boards to be screwed off my windows and doors.

Ren was kind enough to take up the power drill and open up the outside door to our hallway. I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified when the boards came off. The door to my kitchen was open. The first thing I noticed was that the photos on my fridge were mostly still on my fridge. I saw Megan, Biz, and David. I saw dad and me. I saw Lani. I saw Mike. I saw Matt and Navin. It was absolutely thrilling for about a half second.

And then I realized that my kitchen had sunk about two feet below where it should have been. The floor was at about a 45 degree angle, with the low point at my fridge. The cabinets looked to be in a state of tenuous stability. The floor was covered with at least six inches of debris (the same gray matter in the piles outside – there was a Weeds DVD sticking out of this debris). Dinner was, of course, still on the stove. A bottle of olive oil and an unopened package of pasta were still on the counter.


The structural engineer wouldn't let me go through the doorway, but he did take a few steps inside and grabbed a few things for me. The pictures from the fridge. Diana and Jim's STD. A stainless steel water bottle that looked okay. Five bottles of wine.

Then the boards were taken off one of my bedroom windows. Again, I wasn't allowed to step inside, but I was able to stand on a ladder, look in through the window, and give instructions to the guy on where to look for specific items. I was thrilled when he found my jewelry box. The box itself was swollen and the hinges were rusted. It didn't contain anything especially expensive, but it did have a necklace in it, along with some other meaningful things.

This was my bedroom as seen from the window. It looks a lot brighter in the photo than it was in real life. It had ceased to be my bedroom -- it was just a damp, dark, stinky place. The structural engineer was surprised at how much ash and debris there was in my apartment (you can see some of it on my bed at the bottom of the photo).

My Gibson J-185 was pulled out, but it wasn't even close to salvageable. It was cracked badly in multiple places, the strings had completely rusted through, and the mold was already devouring it.


Some other things that were pulled out: Kabul Beauty School, (badly damaged and tossed), a dream diary that went back to 2005 and a real diary that went back to October 2008 (both badly damaged but kept for now), a pair of noise-cancelling headphones that hadn't yet been used (I had bought them for my trip to Japan, now they stink terribly), a small teapot from Japan that Aunt Jane sent me when I was in high school, art from my sister-in-law, cigar boxes from my other sister-in-law, my high school diploma, protective eye wear from chemistry lab, a picture of me and my cousins at my grandparent’s 60th wedding anniversary, a picture of some BJ speech kids at our high school graduation picnic, some cabling.

I asked if he could find my computer (in the hope that there might be salvageable data).
"Look to the left after you enter the living room from my bedroom, and there should be an entertainment stand that at one time had a TV on it. Next to that TV was the computer..."
"What TV? What entertainment stand?"

So I walked away with some things. Most of them I will probably end up throwing away because even the metal things stink with this unique combination of smoke and mold. I really want to piece apart the Gibson and make it into art, but I need to do some more research on what kind of material would properly preserve it so that it wouldn’t be a piece of, um, disgusting living art. So if anyone reading this has some knowledge of how I might be able to do that, please contact me!

Salvage Day

I am not sure if words can describe the complete and utter physical and mental exhaustion that I am currently experiencing. I feel as if every moment of every day during last three weeks has been completely full. Caffeine and adrenaline have been continuously running through my veins, and it is really starting to catch up with me. Even when I force myself to take a break, there is no respite from the various lists and tasks that nag me for attention.

I found out this evening that I will have a brief chance tomorrow to see the inside of my apartment and, perhaps, attempt to salvage some things. The details of this effort are still unclear to me, but of course safety will be paramount, so the likelihood of anyone actually getting a chance to walk around inside are very slim. I have been thinking about how I want to prioritize my salvage effort. Some of the wine might be ok, and would mostly be an easy take from a window. Same with some of the jewelry. The Gibson J-150 might be easy to grab and while it is almost certainly permanently unplayable, it may be a good find for artistic purposes. I'd like to try and get my computer to see if I can recover anything from the hard drive. There should be easy access to photo albums that are likely in very interesting shape. There should be at least one journal within grabbing distance.

I am both excited and worried about tomorrow. The experience will probably be unpleasant, but I think I'm prepared for that. It may give me a bit of closure, and if I can walk away with even one item that is valuable to me, bonus.

The List

I hate the list.

The list is constantly nagging me to work on it. I know it is arguably the most important thing on my to-do list right now. But I keep pushing work on the list off, instead preferring to catch up on emails and work, replace things (even though I also hate shopping), fantasize about what sort of wreckage I might find if/when I get access to it.

The list is currently about 10 pages, handwritten, in various neatnesses and pen colors. And while it is long, it will get significantly longer. I haven't even really touched on items in my bedroom or kitchen yet. I also haven't gone back through and revisited the other rooms in my mind yet. I still need to go through my old credit card and bank statements to get more backup evidence. I need to look back through my Amazon and REI histories.

The list makes me cry. I can barely stand to look at it without feeling the tears starting to swell up in my eyes.

The list is ruthless, cold, and without mercy. I know that everything on the list will at some point be evaluated, priced, judged. No matter how much those old plastic barrettes with the ducks on them from my childhood meant to me, they are still just cheap plastic barrettes from the 80's.

I am working on the list. I WILL own the list. But for now, the list owns me.

NEW ADDRESS

I am "moved in" to my new place.

I have a new postal address. If you want it, please backchannel me!



Tonight should be my last night on the air mattress. For now, I'm off to do a little more shopping while I still have some Sunday left.

POTLUCK COOKOUT TONIGHT!!!

ABQ friends:
There will be a community potluck at the donation site for the residents TODAY (Saturday 8/22) starting at 5pm at the lot adjacent to 907 Silver. Come, bring a bit of food or drink and a donation if you are able, and most importantly, kick back with all of the tenants of the building and your neighbors. We hope to get a chance to say "thanks" in person to all the people who have so generously helped us out. See you there :)

Saltwater Empire

My ex upstairs neighbor graciously sent us pictures this morning of some of the wreckage of her apartment and of the building in general which the insurance inspector took. I looked at the first three. I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at the remainder of them yet. The ones I saw are haunting enough.

This week has involved a lot of random crying at weird moments. A majority of the time I still feel dazed and paralyzed, like I was for most of last week, but sometimes I feel so fucking depressed that it takes all of the energy in me just to lift my head out of my hands. Not that there aren’t wonderful things happening all around me – there are. Sometimes I feel warm and loved, giddy even. I've been the beneficiary of some incredible acts of kindness during the past week. And I so very much appreciate all of the laughter that various folks have brought into my world recently with your calls, texts, drop-bys, emails, Facebook links, ridiculous stripper dances, etc. Don't stop :) It’s all just very fleeting because the reality of the situation never abates.

It has been almost exactly four years since Hurricane Katrina devastated the Gulf Coast, killing nearly 2,000 people and displacing hundreds of thousands. I have been thinking about that event a lot lately. Compared to Katrina, the Castle Apartments disaster is nothing (at least one cat killed, 30 humans and a number of cats displaced). How fast did the news cycle on Katrina last? Maybe a month? I guess I should feel lucky that our little disaster even received two weeks of attention. To this day, I'm sure those hundreds of thousands who had to evacuate and abandon their homes are still grieving.



I am so grateful to draw from the support from my family, friends, and community. Without you all, I would be completely rudderless. <3

The Floors Are Caving In

I had my first nightmare since the fire last night. I'm not surprised that it took this long – I'm poor at remembering dreams in the first place, and my success rate drops as my stress levels increase. In the dream, I was in my apartment (in the present day form), and everything was wet and molding. The floorboards were sinking around the support beams, so I had to channel my inner gymnast and walk as if I was on a balance beam in order to traverse my living room. I was making my way from the corner of my living room to the other corner, where my bookcase was. On top of the bookcase was the mahogany-finished jewelry box that my mom gave me for Christmas a few years ago. I was trying to get to the box in order to grab the twisted gold necklace that once belonged to my maternal grandmother. It was the very same necklace that I wore on that date to see Adaptation around Christmas of my 2nd year of college. Everything in the apartment was creaky, wet, and sagging. It was so stuffy that I could barely breathe. Even though I was treading very lightly, the soft floorboards started giving way. I wasn't able to get to the bookcase.

---

People have been asking whether I will get a chance to see if any of my stuff can be salvaged. In this regard, I know about as much as you do. The tenants have not been let back into the building since we were evacuated. It is unclear if we will ever be let back in. It is also unclear whether we will have a chance to go through the debris if we are not let back in. One thing is certain: whether we are ever given a chance to sort through the remains of our stuff or not, most if not all of it is damaged beyond repair. I'm not holding my breath.

2 Weeks Later

It has been exactly two weeks, nearly to the minute, that I was evacuated from the building. I barely got any sleep last night because I was thinking about this sad anniversary and the 5 hours I stood around in awe outside that night. When I left the building, I thought that I would be back in my apartment within an hour or two. I was carrying a glass of water with me, which I figured I'd drink while the AFD did their thing. After all, the smoke was coming from the other side of the building, I was on the first floor, and the fire department was going to be able to knock out whatever was causing that bit of smoke in no time.

When the flames started shooting from the roof of the building, I felt terrible for the folks on that side, but I was still confident that I would be able to salvage many of my things that the smoke may not have destroyed.

About three hours in, there were still large flames coming from the building, it was spreading to my side, and there was just a constant dump of water all over the building. There was no sign of it letting up. I definitely wasn't getting back in the building that night.

My neighbor Raisa and her family were kind enough to take me in that night. They practically had to pry me away from the area. "You definitely won't be able to get back in tonight. It'll be best for you if you just get some rest now." It was around 1am when we stopped by a south valley Wal-Mart so that we could pick up panties and toothbrushes. I was in a daze. I couldn't eat. I had to force down a quesadilla and lots of water. I woke up the next morning feeling like I had eaten an ashtray.

I'm not sure how to commemorate everything that has happened in the last two weeks. It has been an incredible experience with the most extreme emotional swings. I'll touch on it all eventually...

Before the Fire/After the Fire

It has been nearly two weeks since the fire at 1410 Central consumed nearly all of my worldly possessions. It didn’t take long for me to recognize that I was using these linguistic qualifiers on many of my sentences. It’s as if my mind is trying to mentally orient itself around that one stable fact while everything else swirls around. And while everything else in nearly every aspect of my life is swirling, I have the fire to ground me in space and time.

Before the fire, I didn’t have much trouble eating or sleeping. Before the fire, I was trying to lose ten pounds. Before the fire, I didn’t realize how many friends I really had (some of whom I had never even really met yet). Before the fire, I hadn’t cried in a very long time. After the fire, I feel like I have some sort of super-ADD. After the fire, it feels like I get things accomplished at about a one-third pace (or slower). After the fire, the times that I have been able to temporarily put worrisome thoughts out of my mind are brief and fleeting. After the fire, I’m thankful to know that people still think of me as the giggly one.

I know that this event is changing my life. I know that it is probably shaping my future in strange ways that I could never predict at this point. I’m trying to embrace that change with as much grace as I can. It’s very slow-going.

First Weekend of Fun... After the Fire

This past weekend was the first time since the fire that I was truly able to let go and revel in some wonderfully sinful activities. I got out of Albuquerque and into Chicago on Thursday and spent a low-key night with Alisha and her boyfriend Rob. I spent Friday morning very much like I had spent the past week and a half: trying to make a dent in my email backlog, doing some more work on the inventory of stuff that I lost in the fire, returning phone calls in a somewhat haphazard manner. I went to Victoria’s Secret to purchase my first bra after the fire (a very sexy strapless so that I could wear the strapless gown with the sky-high slit that I was borrowing from Alisha).

As an aside, I’d like to take a moment to give a shout out to Alisha, who I always seem to crash with when I am in town. And for some reason or another, the last two times I’ve visited, I have needed clothes and shoes for which she never hesitates to lend me (the other time, I was in Chicago but my luggage was in Dallas).

That afternoon Alisha and I got pedicures. It was the first time I’d ever had one. I’ll admit, it felt amazing and my toes looked spectacular afterward.

Friday evening, I checked into the hotel room that the boys and I were splitting, left Jon and Brian’s names at the front desk, and headed out to the groom’s dinner. I didn’t really know anyone there aside from Diana & Jim and Bonnie & Curt, so I scanned the place for a good table to crash and ended up sitting down with a group of Jim’s friends. The food was excellent, the wine flowed freely, and I was able to enjoy an evening with a group of folks who had no idea I had lost all of my possessions in a fire the previous week. We took the party to the streets after leaving the restaurant and did some old fashioned Chicago bar hopping before we were shut down. With the aid of the wine and the company, I was able to temporarily leave my thoughts about the fire behind and just enjoy getting to know a new group of awesome people. I laughed, I swore, I told bawdy stories, I crashed Tyler & Dan’s hotel room when we took the party there. It was exactly the same experience I would have had if the fire had never happened. I didn’t want the night to end.

Of course, the text message that I got from Brian the next morning was, “Are you alive?”

After verifying my existence, I met up with Jon and Brian and walked around Chicago for a few hours, taking pictures, hula hooping, taking bets on when Matt would show up at the wedding events that evening.

Matt arrived at the Trump Tower just in time to miss the entire ceremony.

The wedding itself was everything I anticipated and more. Diana looked stunning. She (and the wedding in general) was beautiful beyond words. It was fantastically catered. The dachshund ice sculpture that peed out “wini-tinis” did not disappoint. The dance floor was hot. I was in a full fledged, champagne-fueled, party mode in almost no time.

It was wonderful to see lots of familiar faces. The usual debate crew was all there, along with many others, some of whom I hadn’t seen in nearly 10 years. And while I can’t quite say the night was exactly as it would have been if the fire had never happened, it was close. It was Diana and Jim’s day, after all, and we were all there to celebrate their commitment and have a good time.

I wasn’t going to let anything come between me and this vacation, but I was concerned last week that I wasn’t going to be able to let my mind go and have fun. Honestly, I was a little scared that the champagne, combined with the no-expenses-spared fabulousness and consumption, would not mix well with my current situation and result in an all-out bawl-fest for me. But after Friday evening’s festivities, I was certain that I was going to be able to put it all out of mind temporarily, and it mostly worked. It was one of the most fun weekends of my life and not one I will ever forget.