DAY 8

I've missed a few days because I've been so exhausted lately. So while today is probably technically day 10, we are going to call it day 8... moving day.

It's not even 7 am yet, and for some reason I'm awake. Maybe if I close my eyes I'll fall asleep again. No such luck. It's been this way all night. I think the stress of moving is starting to get to me. I just have to get through this one day. A quick shower, and I'm on my way out the door. First stop, starbucks. There is no way I'm gonna get through this without a carmel frap. My eyes don't want to stay open and my body already hurts.... I don't even want to imagine how I'm gonna feel at this time tomorrow.

I pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex and glance up. I haven't even started yet and the stairs are already taunting me. Before I even start unpacking I want to see how clean this box that I'll be calling home is.


Not bad. The shower could use a good scrubbing, but the carpet is nice and new and the paint is fresh. As much as I just want to lay on the floor for a bit and take a nap, I somehow drag myself down the stairs and grab my first armload. Twenty eight, twenty nine steps later I'm at the top. I drop the clothes that were in my arms on the floor and skip back down to my car. This is going to get old quick.


I finish the first car full in pretty good time. Now if I can only keep up this pace for the rest of the day, I'll be done before the sun goes down. The second trip goes smoothly as well. I think I've strategically brought the easy stuff first. I might be hating that plan later tonight. Around 11 I get a call from a co-worker who is helping with my larger furniture. He is all the help that I'm going to get today, so I want to make sure that I utilize his time well. My arm muscles are already starting to hurt a bit, and I feel like my calves are cramping, but there is no stopping now.


Back south, this time with most of my furniture in tow, I climb out of my car and notice how hot the sun is beating down. Of course it had to be 90 today. Of course I had to be on the third story. Of course there is no elevator. Of course it is a Tuesday and practically everyone I know is at work. Of course I don't have AC!! No use complaining about it now. I guess it could be worse, it could be raining.


We make it up with my dresser and nightstand, but as we are carrying up the tv my arms give out. I want so bad just to chuck the thing over the railing and say screw it, I don't need a tv! My grip is slipping from the sweat on my fingertips and there is a pain shooting through my right shoulder. Is this really worth it?? We round the corner of the second level. "Two thirds of the way there," John says. In my head I'm thinking about how much I wish I had money for a flat screen. As I step up on the first step leading to the third floor, my shin scrapes against the tv. Ouch! This needs to be done, right now. Thirteen more steps to go. Each one feels like it's a mile above the last. I want to just close my eyes and sprint to the top, but that certainly won't work in this case.

Finally we make it. The door clicks open and the tv is on the ground. Thank god! No time for celebration, there are plenty more things sitting down in the car, waiting to be carried up. On the way down the stairs John pokes the top of my neck. It burns. I guess I forgot sunscreen this morning. There is no telling where it is now. I'll just have to bake today and deal with it tomorrow.

After we get my bed upstairs John leaves for Denver and I am once again on my own. I'm so exhausted I just want to collapse on the floor. I wish I could pay someone to do this for me, but I can barely afford the apartment as is, let alone the cost of movers. It's now three pm and I realize I haven't eaten anything all day. My head is pounding and my throat is dry. I run to Subway for a quick bite to eat, but decide to grab it to go so I can unpack while I'm eating. As I start going through the boxes of Kitchen stuff, I quickly realize how much I'm going to need to buy. Living alone is expensive. I'm certainly not all that stoked about it. If money wasn't an issue this would be perfect, but on my meager salary I'm forced to makes a list of things I can live without. A spatula isn't one of them!

By 6 my sister is off work and my eyes are struggling to stay open. Evey step I take is painful. My body is telling me that it is time to stop, but my head says everything needs to get done tonight. We make one trip before I give up. That's it. Whatever is left at the townhouse I can deal with tomorrow. Now it's time to go buy toilet paper and a trash can, so when I wake up tomorrow I can pee!


We browse Bed Bath and Beyond but I'm too tired to think straight. Normally shopping for a new place would be fun. Part of me wishes I had slept better last night, or I had less stuff to carry, or I was in better shape. But wishing is no good. It doesn't fix that fact that I'm exhausted and tomorrow is going to be another day of up, down, up down, up, down. It nine when we decide to go to IHOP for some dinner. I scarf down my strawberry banana pancakes before my sister takes ones bite. Oops, I was supposed to save some for her. I guess I was hungry. Thirty minutes later it's off to Walmart, for the stuff I couldn't find at Bed Bath and Beyond. Finally by 11:30 we are on our way back to her air-conditioned hotel room. All I want is a shower and a pillow. My arms ache, my legs burn, my shoulder and neck sting from the sunburn, and my eyes are so heavy I can't keep them open. I want to make a list of what I need to accomplish tomorrow but I can't formulate a word, or a thought for that matter. Tomorrow will have to wait till tomorrow. I'm going to bed.

DAYS 3 & 4

DAYS 3 & 4

Ahhh, the weekend. I have one word, one thought. HOORAY!! Well, kinda. This weekend I am faced with an interesting dilemma. I'm moving (and I don't mean moving my butt more, or moving my ass to the the gym). I mean moving for real. Like packing up my things in boxes (that I have yet to get) and moving to another apartment (that I have yet to find). That is the real dilemma. Where am I going to live? Luckily, I don't have to move today. I have one week to figure out that answer. And while I'm at it, I might as well figure out how I'm going to pay for this new apartment. Which brings me to my next dilemma, which pretty much all photogs can relate to, how do I support myself while I am pursuing this so-called "dream?"

While I'm on the topic of money, I'd like to make one thing clear. We photographers, don't make any! Well, not literally, I mean I do get a paycheck every two weeks. Most of the time though, it is so small that I'm convinced they've forgotten to pay me for a couple of days. I'm making less then I made when I was going to school. My non college degree self, who still received free healthcare from my parents, made more money. My little sister makes more money babysitting! So why do I do it? Why not quit, get another job that pays me more money (using that college degree that I worked so hard for) and stop complaining so much? I'd like to say that I stick with this job because I feel like it is the only place that will challenge me to live up to my full potential, but that would be a load of crap.

For now, I'm sticking with it because the economy is in shambles and I'm not sure I could get hired at Walmart. I'm also sticking with it because it gives me something new and unexpected almost every single day. I've met the President of the United States, held baby wolves, and watched a brigade case their colors and head to war. I've seen fires, and murders. I've searched for lost children, and gone to gorilla birthday parties. Every day is a new start, a fresh begininng. Wandering into the office at 9 am, I have no idea what awaits me. I like that. I like the adrenaline of the five oclock deadline, and the competition to be number one. I like the sense of accomplishment that comes from seeing my work on the news every night.

But I digress. The point is, I'm in news, I make no money, and that isn't going to change anytime soon. So this weekend is dedicated to finding a place to live that I can afford on my meager salary. I've nabbed the free apartment guide books at the local coffee shop and sit down to find my dream home. By the end of the first book I realize I'm screwed. There are three apartments in the whole book that fall within my price range. All three of them are in the parts of town that I get called to at three am for stabbings, shootings, and other criminal activity. Don't catch my drift? They are in the ghetto. No way. No how. Not moving there. A box would be better. I just need to make sure I place my box on the North side of town.

So I give up on the apartment guide books and hit craigslist. Plan #2 consists of me finding a cool female roommate close to my age who has a room available for 400$ or less in a part of town where I'm not scared to open my windows. Easy right? Once again I am naive. I post my add, telling everyone how cheerful and easygoing I am. I tell them about my love for wine and the Chicago cubs. I don't mention that I work in news, they don't need to know that. And I wait.

As the emails pour in I begin to realize that I may need a plan three. Here are just some of the emails I received: "Hi Jessica, I know your add said that you wanted to live with young professional females, but I am a 25 year old male soldier. Don't worry though, my momma raised me right!" or "Hi! I saw your add. I'm 17 and my husband is 18. We have a room in our house if you want to check it out." or even better, " I have a room in my basement. It doesn't have any windows, but that didn't seem to be a problem for the last tenant. I think you'll like it if you check it out. Oh, did I mention I have five cats. Email me back if your interested!"

Yeah, thanks, but no thanks. Moving on to plan #3. Unfortunately, I have yet to come up with a third plan. So I sleep on it (well toss and turn all night) and wake up in the morning refreshed and ready to attack the day. Plan three. Plan three. Ummmmm. Yeah. Then, lightbulb moment. I remember a co-worker mentioning an apartment complex by work that is affordable, and decent. I didn' t want to move south, but beggars can't be choosers. I decide to give it a try.

The inside turns out to be better then expected. It isn't the Ritz Carlton, but I can deal. If I look at the upside, it is within my price range (of practically nothing) and close enough to work that I might be able to walk in the summer. I try to ignore the downside while I'm signing the paperwork. Who needs more then 530 sq ft. anyways? Who even wants air conditioning? A wall separating the bedroom from the living room, totally over rated!

So that's that. I'm moving, in five days. I'm still not really sure how I'm going to pay for it, but at least I know where it is. I know this will be a problem I encounter often throughout my life, especially if I continue down this path of news photography. But as much as I hate the uncertainty of not know where I will be living in a week, I hate the idea of giving up on my dreams even more. So I'll keep plugging away. I'll survive the summer without AC, and deal with my lack of funds one week at a time. And I'll keep having faith that one day this thing they call growing up will get easier.