Bored angels again (or, will she never learn?)

In mid-May, I took my Honda in for a checkup. $900 later, I was set with new tires, clean spark plugs, and a schedule for maintenance clearly in place. I was feeling smug, happy: my car was good to go for some time to come, and I was starting to save money (as evidenced by my ability to buy new tires.)

Like a fool, I voiced my satisfaction with my lot, and those goddamned Bored Angels heard me. About 3 weeks ago, I was driving in Albuquerque, en route to a therapy session followed by a nice lunch with a newish friend. I pulled off the highway to stop by UNM and return M's book for her. As I sat, second in line at the stoplight (Candelaria and the frontage road), I heard a loud bang, felt a sharp impact that moved me forward into the car ahead, into the intersection. I braked, panicking as I picked up speed and pushed the other car, realizing in a second that I actually had my foot on the gas. I stopped, looked behind, looked ahead, and continued on through the intersection. Pulling over, I sat, stunned, with the contents of my purse and the car's cubby and the passenger seat scattered along the floor boards.

Long story short, my car was totaled.

I learned the following things:

1. I hate insurance adjusters.
2. I really hate car salesmen.
3. I really really hate our credit system

The insurance adjusters offered me $8400 for my nice little Honda with the leather seats and moon roof and gutsy engine and good mileage and brand new tires.  (My research tells me I cannot find a replacement for less than $9000, realistically it's worth about $9700.)  They told me I could have my rental for 7 more days, but I wouldn't get my money for 6 more days. So, I could shop all I wanted but I couldn't actually buy anything before my rental was gone.

I fight with State Farm.
The final call ends thusly:
"You guys are assholes!"

Another mind-boggling fact:  insurance checks are considered high risk. I have to wait 7 business days before I can actually access the money. So, they don't send the check for 7 days after they offer a settlement, and then I have to wait another 7 days before I can use it, but they don't give me a rental for that length of time.  How am I supposed to find a car if I don't have a car?  How can I buy a car with no money for a down payment?

Somehow I am missing something: it doesn't make sense to me. Why would they write a policy like that?

Car salesmen....well you know. It's a game, and I don't play it well. I did my research, test drove a lot of cars, negotiated, asked the opinions of friends and family, looked some more. I started with the idea of making lemonade of the situation: I need AWD for the mountains, and this was the chance to get it. But, with AWD you give up fuel economy and pickup. And, with used cars, you have to look at so many things to offset the lack of warranty. And you never find the price or the model that you researched at home. I tried used car lots in Santa Fe, Albuquerque, and Denver.

5 hours with salesmen.....
Typical used car salesmen.
I have bought nothing.

I hate dickering,
So I don't. Instead I have
Cinnamon French toast.

Nowhere could I negotiate the dealers down to true market value. Craigslist specialized in personal used cars with over 150K miles on them, or dealer come-ons.  So, I started looking at new cars, and hit the problem of finding what I wanted at the price that I wanted. Things look great, doable, reasonable online.  On the street is another matter.  My auto body guy told me that the problem was New Mexico's small population, so I tried Autotrader, with an expanded geographical search. They had no cars, new or used, for under $16K.  I was seriously considering buying a junker and running it into the ground, but I live in the mountains:  if my car dies, I can't just take public transportation until it's fixed.  In the end, I was weighing the pros and cons of buying an older used car with the money I had, versus buying a new car and repairing my credit.  

This is where I ran afoul of the credit system. Did you know that banks and car dealers figure your credit differently? I was given 3 different numbers: 640, 612, 603. None of them good, of course. Then, there are the loan applications, which want you to have a stable income and residence.  10 months is not stable.  In the last three years I have had 5 addresses, 2 ft jobs, unemployment, and 4 pt jobs.  My current job has no pay stubs to speak of, and no tax information (I filed it as hobby income last year.) Finally, there is the house in Portland. As far as the banks are concerned, it's a debt, and they don't recognize the rental income. So, I look like a total financial flake to them. Never mind the 20+ years living in one place, working at one place, and paying my bills. 

The process of determining all this goes something like this:  We can offer 0% interest for the life of the loan....FOR QUALIFIED BUYERS.  Okay, you're not qualified for that, but let's look at the .09% offer for a 3-year loan.  Okay, let's add a co-signer at 5%.   That's not going to work, but we can probably get you, 9.9% with no co-signer and you can refinance with your credit union. Oh, we can't do anything without a check in hand.  (As you recall, I had no check from State Farm.  Still don't for that matter, until 7/19.)  At this point my head explodes and I go home for a stiff drink, leaving the car which I have negotiated down to a reasonable price still sitting in the lot.

It's humiliating, being treated like pond scum by the system. Even though I've made some poor financial choices in the last few years, I have also basically taken care of business. But, because I don't currently fit the system's mold, that past is wiped out. I resent the fact that people who need assistance can't get it.  If you need money, it follows you can't afford a high interest rate, right? I mean, I do get that these people are in business, but it's an inherently unfair system. Those with money get the deals, those without don't.  And, I discovered a new quirk: a co-signer needs to live at your address. Or maybe it was the fact that my potential co-signer lives in Colorado while I live in New Mexico. Whatever, I was unable to get a loan at a reasonable rate.

For 3 weeks I fought the good fight, tried to navigate the system, and hoped to not be forced into a bad decision.  And yesterday I threw in the towel.  My co-op mates were loaning me cars, but wanted me to be done with the process.  Next week I have rehearsals and other plans that necessitate having my own wheels. Everyone is weary of the process, no one more than me.  So I made what seems in retrospect a strange and hasty decision.  In the end, I gave up all my original financial specs, but kept the criteria regarding the car. I may change insurance agencies in the future, I have an appointment to check for whiplash, and I may need to get a warranty for the new/old car, but I am DONE with car shopping!

Yesterday went something like this....

I watch the sun rise,
Spend the whole day with car guys,
And watch the moon rise.

We're picking car-beds
Since it seems we're sleeping here
At the dealership.

It's been a long time
But I'm still good at hangman
And she is, also.

Just two hours later,
A nice sunset and moonrise,
Seen from my new car!

I'm tired and driving.
She takes pix through the window
And I edit them.

Here is my last word on the subject, sent to all the people who gave me advice and watched me flail:

To my patient friends who saw me through the last 2.5 weeks...I'll spare you the saga, which most of you followed patiently, but, suffice it to say, everything took too long, there was a bait and switch at the end, and I said, "just take me home." But then things smoothed out.

Esther was a trouper throughout the whole ordeal: accompanied me to all the Santa Fe dealerships and told me I was great. 

She is so patient.
We stop for some gelato,
Then look for more cars.

And tonight, as the hours (yes, HOURS) dragged on, we played hangman.

Oh, you want to know about the car?

2013 Impreza AWD hatchback. Black inside and out. 61K miles. $19225. 2.99% over 76 mo, $178 monthly payments. 60-day/2000 mi warranty. I may need to buy more coverage, but balked at their price tag for it.

Has paddles that let me shift gears...still figuring that out.

It's exactly what I wanted, actually. So, all in all, I'm happy. The drive home was lovely: on my right, purple/orange/pink/golden/red sunset, with streaks of vertical lightning. On my left, an apricot moon rising. Almost worth the time it took to get signed. Almost.

Anyway, thanks for all your support, and please don't tell me I made a bad choice. I like my new car. :)
I'm hoping the Bored Angels don't notice that last line.

Fragile

10/4/13.....I wrote this some time ago, posted it for an evening, decided it was too whiny, and took it down.  Today, after writing about my next steps in this weird journey of mine, I decided to glance through old posts. It was sort of an attempt to see just how I got to this place.  Now, this post gives the context better than any of the others.  I've been spiraling for years, it seems.  It appears that it's time to stop spinning and just be for awhile.  Be a musician.  Be a friend.  Be a caregiver.  Be lazy.  Be broke.  Be there.

Here's the context............................

Last night I attended a performance of the Santa Fe Chamber Music Festival, one of their four Albuquerque run-outs.  It was excellent:  the auditorium acoustics were exceptional, and the players were simultaneously physical and sensitive.  And they played Brahms, which always works for me.  My companion is a fellow violinist, and she knew everyone in the audience it seemed, except for the woman with the intrusive perfume, sitting next to me.  She also had the chutzpah to spot 2 other seats, 3 rows ahead of us, and make plans to shift us there:  at intermission we moved to a place where I could breathe.  At the end, we were both jazzed and dazed by the performances.  We parted ways, promising to get together soon for duets and future concerts.  The future was enticing, full of promise.

It was also the first day in months that I was not exhausted at 2 pm, yawning at 3, and barely able to keep my eyes open at 4.  In fact, I was energized by L's visit the night before, and happy in my life.  I was re-applying myself to the search for a new job in a new place, and I was also figuring out how to continue to connect to the good things in my life here.

So, what happened over night?  When the alarm woke me at 6:45 am, I was prepared to start my routine.  Check out the e-mail and facebook, stretch, walk, shower, make coffee and toast, go to work, pick out the books for the daycare visit.  I read for a bit and then put away the ipad, poised to rise.  And then I realized:  all I wanted to do was sleep.  I didn't feel disgust for the job, I didn't feel stressed or want to avoid anyone or anything, but I didn't want to go in.  With very little pondering, I called in sick, asked J to call the daycare and cancel for me, and I went back to bed.

Except, I couldn't sleep.

So, I've been puttering all day.  Make bed, put away L's air mattress, rearrange the space, wash dishes, drink coffee.  The computer cord doesn't work, so I fuss about getting it replaced.  I finish a book. I notice that the cord started magically working on its own, and I call off the replacement and start editing pix and finishing up my blacksmith blog.  I hear from my realtor:  another roadblock to selling the house.  I talk to the lawyer.  T stops by with a DQ blizzard and keeps me company for a bit.  He leaves and I start reading another book and editing some more pix.

And....I don't want to do anything.  I feel twitchy and at loose ends.  I want to call in sick again, not because I'm physically sick, but because I'm sick of my scheduled, repetitive life.  Yet, I don't have anything better to replace it with, look at how I've spent today.  90 percent of success is showing up.  So I keep showing up.  I keep doing what I'm paid to do, people are generally okay with what I do, how I do it, who I am.  Why am I seriously considering not showing up?

I have managed that for years, and I'm like Jane Eyre, "I tired of the routine of eight years in one afternoon. I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication; for change, stimulus: that petition, too, seemed swept off into vague space: "Then," I cried, half desperate, "grant me at least a new servitude!"

T would say I'm tempting the bored angels again.  What is the point of a new servitude in a new place? I have a reasonably well-paying job, I'm living within my means,  I like New Mexico, I have friends, acquaintances, activities worth doing.  I've had enough change in that last few years to last a lifetime.  A new job is just a distraction from the real issue:  I don't like who I am.  I won't go into the self-hating litany (why give voice to it?), but it's there, nattering monotonously.

I turn on music to silence the thoughts while I continue to edit pix from my iPhone.  Listening to "Fragile," I think about D.  He sang it at our wedding, while I sang "My ship." Now I think, what odd choices those were.  It's almost like a foreshadowing of the collapse of our marriage. I sang that all the jewels in the world meant nothing without my own true love.  Dave sang that we (and our love?) are fragile.  And here I am, without my love, without a lover, without the beauty and joy.  Fragile.

People I saw in Portland talked about how strong and healthy and happy I seemed.  I wish it were true.  I'm so tired of this game face.

Bored Angels

T has a theory about Bored Angels. He says, don't attract the attention of a Bored Angel (by voicing fears or contentment:  the Angel will make the fears manifest and undermine the contentment.)  It's his version of  saying:  things are too good to be true, I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, knock on wood. Nothing is to small for a Bored Angel's attention.  I remember worrying about snow during a drive, and it arrived the next day.  T texted me: "Thanks a lot, pal!"

T's theory is strongly allied to the Greek playwright's theme of hubris, the  excessive pride or arrogance or ambition, which led to the fall of all Greek heroes.  Basically the gods don't like mere mortals thinking they have any control over their lives;  so, just when you think you have it all figured out, WHAM! you are struck down.

Years ago a friend of Greek extraction told me that if I ever went to Athens, everyone would be spitting on me.  I said, why?  And she said, to keep bad fortune away from you:  you are so beautiful you would attract the attention of evil spirits otherwise.  (I was younger then, and she was kind.)  In fact, many cultures consider it bad luck to praise children....it even show's up in Kipling's Jungle Book stories.

I am so indoctrinated in this concept, that when I think things are going well, I start to get nervous.  A relationship feels solid?  He's getting ready to dump me.  Work is good?  There's muttering behind closed doors that does not bode well.  I'm happy?  Something miserable is just around the corner.

How much of this is self-fulfilling prophecy, I do not know.  I am aware of the Power of Positive Thinking:  a psychologist friend shared research about optimistic people and pessimistic people.  The latter were grounded in reality, but the former MADE their reality.  M talks to the Universe about every little thing, and the Universe invariably responds helpfully.  But I've never had the confidence or the connection with the Universe (or the Bored Angels or the gods.)  I usually just wait to be struck down.

That being the case, I have no explanation for what just happened.  I had been feeling disconnected, unloved and unlovable.  Not in a grief-stricken way, but in a distant floating sort of way:  my mind and body separated from my emotions.  This went on for several days.  I wore my game face and went through my routine, waiting for it to go away.  Finally, today I sat down and blogged about it.

And then I went about my day, tired but steady.  Doing what I needed to do.  Around closing time I got a text:  "got plans for supper?"  I wrote back "rehearsal 7-8:30."  I didn't say I was strongly considering ditching rehearsal, I was so exhausted.  The reply:  "come over for dinner and then go to rehearsal."  And I did.

Dinner was pleasant, rehearsal was desperately needed (new space, the addition of the band and soloist), and I found myself looking through the new windows at the growing moon and realizing.....I'm happy.  Then I spoke to A, who is going through a bad patch and needed a good hug, which I provided.  She said, "you're such a warm person."  And I was filled with gratitude that my presence mattered.

So the question is:  what sort of entity did my whiny blog attract?  A Bored Angel who was feeling contrary? A compassionate Universe?

Not that I'm complaining.  (Or bragging.)