Tag: cats

August in Brooklyn

November 12, 2018 / KKRegan / 0 Comments

A perfect three-week August house sit in Brooklyn

This view is not actually from Brooklyn, but IS from my friends’ apartment on the Lower East Side

Originally, my plan was to leave August mostly free. I figured I might like the time to bop around and see friends and family and just bask in my freedom. As my France house sit drew to a close, however, I began to realize that not having a home base would actually feel like the opposite of freedom.

It turns out when I’m not in a place I can call my own (even temporarily), I feel unseated. Wherever I am staying, regardless of how welcoming and accommodating the hosts are, I feel a little out of place, like I’m stepping on toes and have to make myself smaller than I am. I also tend to spend way more money, which is likely a combination of not having free reign of a kitchen in which to cook my own food, and being in proximity to people who I want to catch up and socialize with, which often involves going out and spending money on drinks, food, or transport.

Getting help with my work…

So, come the end of July, I started looking for an August house sit and I found this wonderful opportunity in Brooklyn. Brooklyn was perfect because it had me close to home, which was my intent anyway for that period, but I would still maintain my own space. It also so happened to be for the perfect amount of time, leaving me a few days buffer at my mom’s in Connecticut on either side.

The Neighborhood

Having grown up in what is technically a New York City suburb, I’m familiar with the city, I have friends in the city, I’m fairly comfortable there. Having never lived there myself, however, means I don’t really KNOW the city. I don’t know the ins and outs of the neighborhoods or all the little spots to go. For the past decade plus, usually when in the city, I would be with a pal who lived there so they would take the reins and I would just follow along.

Beautiful church in the neighborhood

This meant that I when I read, “Clinton Hill, Brooklyn” I didn’t really know what the neighborhood was about. The ladies wanted me to stop by before they left so they could give me the keys, show me around, and ultimately meet the stranger who was about to stay in their home. The Saturday before the sit, I was in the Bronx for a very long, crazy day that revolved around a Yankees game. As we waited for the night game to start, I hopped on the subway and headed down to Brooklyn to rendezvous with one of the homeowners.

When I got off the stop in Clinton Hill, my eyes went wide. This neighborhood was BEAUTIFUL. Impeccable brownstones, tree-lined streets, it was seriously gorgeous. Let’s be clear that as it stands I couldn’t afford an apartment anywhere in the five boroughs at this juncture, but this neighborhood would likely be beyond my reach even if I had a full-time job in my field with an NYC salary.

Impressions

A bodega breakfast sandwich will cure any overhangs…

The first few days of my sit, I was really digging city life. I just love being able to walk out my door and access the things I need. From the beginning, I was struggling with how expensive everything was, however. I know New York has a reputation for being expensive, but it’s always been my experience that the inexpensive food and drink establishments are discoverable. This time was different. Every beer I encountered cost $5 and over (usually more like $8-10), and every meal was between $12 and $20 (bodega breakfast sandwiches notwithstanding).

One of my favorite things about being in a large city, however, is that there are endless routes for walking. I love the diversity of the people. I love that there’s always something going on. These things all energized me on the daily.

Concerts at the Prospect Park Bandshell include sweet light art

I have noticed in recent years that I’ve become very neighborhood loyal. This was true in Denver, and it continues to be true in the new cities I sample. I may thrive on travel on a large scale, but I hate leaving my neighborhood. Despite the ease of getting around in New York, I found myself more likely to stick in my hood than to travel far distances.

At the end of the day, it was great to be in this beautiful apartment in this wonderful neighborhood with these super cuddly kitties. I also really appreciated the opportunity to catch up with some local pals. By the end, however, I was definitely fatigued by all the money I was spending. My productivity suffered a little as I finally started earning money but let my passion projects fall to the wayside in the struggle to balance my priorities (this continues to be true as I post a blog post about my August house sit in November…). I’m sure the gorgeous TV setup with the access to Netflix and Hulu didn’t help on that front either…

Missing Photos

Brooklyn Masonic Temple

Most of the photos I ended up taking while in Brooklyn were of the cats. I did get a few nice photos while walking around, but I always tried to do this on the sly. Since I grew up near New York, I have this weird, internalized fear of appearing like a tourist. This makes me hesitant to stop in the streets and take photos, even though there are a lot of really beautiful streets and brownstones and lovely, lovely sights. Because of this handicap, I’m missing out on some good shots (and by extension, so are you). It’s so funny the weird things that are ingrained in us.

Friend-Crushes

Most of the time, the days that I overlap with the hosts can be a little awkward. It’s always slightly uncomfortable to be taking up space in someone else’s home, and this feeling is amplified when you don’t know the people. This time, we didn’t have any overlap, but I did find myself wishing I had the opportunity to get to know these ladies a little better. I was immediately drawn to the books and DVDs they had around the apartment (hello, they had “Troll 2” on DVD!), plus I can definitely relate to grown women with multiple video game systems. I definitely left this house sit with two substantial friend-crushes.

All in all, this was a lovely sit in a lovely neighborhood, even if my wallet wasn’t quite as happy about it as I was.

One Year Job Single and My First Time Doing Comedy

August 17, 2018 / KKRegan / 0 Comments

Bookending a Year with a Failure and a Triumph

One year ago last week, I was let go from my last full-time job, sending me on a wild whirlwind of anxiety, self-doubt, and under-employment. Exactly a year later, I did stand-up for the first time.

Maybe the office cat pushing everything off my desk daily was symbolic of things to come…

Since I lost my job, a few things have happened:

I hit bottom enough to entirely change my approach and take some real risks (how successful this will be is still TBD)
I met and connected with a wonderful fella, and perhaps we wouldn’t have really seen each other had I not been on my way out the door
I met numerous amazing humans: at part-time jobs, in fleeting locations, humans everywhere!
I sold all my belongings, for better or worse!
I’ve been able to travel all over, experiencing different environments, cultures, and cuisines
A woman who used to work at that company found me on LinkedIn and told me about the emotionally-abusive revolving door that has been operating there since well before me. This is essential in letting me know I’m not alone.
- Hot Tip: if you have left a bad work environment, please leave a review on Glassdoor. It could save people so much heartache.
- Hot Tip: If you are applying to a job, do your homework. Find people on LinkedIn who have worked there and ask them about it. Worth the effort in spades.
I did stand-up comedy for the first time, after months and months of saying I would

The day before I got laid off, I celebrated Sunday with a breakfast sandwich and a milkshake. Little did I know, every day was about to be Sunday.

Being let go from that job has allowed me to have many experiences that I other wise would not have had. That being said, I’m still too deep in it to say if actually working there was worth it or not. I still think back to the red flags I ignored and wonder if I might have been better off staying at the library and continuing my job hunt. However, I do know one thing, I am glad to have been away from that environment for a year. If three office cats can’t make a work environment pleasant, you know you’ve got a real problem.

The significance of being underemployed for a YEAR was not lost on me. And as I recalled the feeling of packing up my office (I guess decorating your office too soon IS a jinx), and driving away from that place— the mix of relief and fear, disappointment and elation— I was inspired to do something. Something I have been talking about for months, but hadn’t yet dug up the cojones to do.

I did stand-up comedy.

I had already looked up all the open mics in the area that were reasonable for me to attend. I had talked to a few people about it. I kept putting it off, however, because my tight 5 “wasn’t ready.” As I was sitting and reflecting on the year I’ve had, I realized:

Doing comedy is like having a baby. You’re never going to be ready.

So, I sat down with my jokes and scrambled to put them in some kind of sensical order. I knew if I didn’t at least GO to this open mic, that I never would. I wasn’t sure if I would actually go up, but I wanted to have something in my pocket just in case. At least that’s what I told myself in order to get out the door.

I fiddled with my bits until 5:50. Yes, I fiddled with my bits. Sign-up started at 5:45, the show started at 6:00. I was pushing it, probably hoping that I’d get there and the list would be full. Or, maybe there was no hidden meaning and I’m a terrible procrastinator. Maybe a little bit of both.

When I walked in at 5:55, I greeted the hostess and put my name on the list. Didn’t even think about it. I immediately wanted to puke. I went to the bar to get a beer, which helps.

Once the comics started, I felt a lot better. This is only the second open mic I have intentionally attended, but so far, they seem very supportive. Everyone is here for the same reason. No one is expecting perfection. The thing is, I’ve been a teacher before. If you can stand up in front of a room full of 14 year olds all day, you can stand up in front of a few adults for 5 minutes.

As expected, some people were really funny… and some were not. A curveball was thrown during the third comic’s act, however. A large dinner party was shown into the room. They were not there for an open mic, they were there for a post-work dinner party. Immediately, the mood of the room changed. These people were legit not even smiling. Comics were trying to do crowd work with them and they were not having it. What an excellent scenario for someone’s first foray into stand-up.

The other thing was, since I arrived just before 6, I was the last person on the list. Generally, when people were done with their sets, they would leave. By process of elimination, this meant by the time I went up I would be facing the two hosts, maybe one or two comic stragglers, and this stone-faced party of 12 who didn’t come for amateur comedy. What could go wrong?

Finally, I was the last one in the room that hadn’t gone up. The second hostess, who was not in the room when I signed up, got up and accidentally introduced me as the headliner. Oh good lord. She corrected herself, but I was thinking, “Man, I really hope these people aren’t expecting a headliner.” If anyone should have been the headliner it was the guy before me as he was probably the best guy of the night.

So I got up, I thanked her, and I fucking did it.

And, guess what? GUESS WHAT?

I did. not. bomb. I didn’t bomb! People laughed! I got pretty consistent chuckles. Some more pronounced than others (feedback!), but it was not some deadly black hole of silence. I know this crowd was capable of that, because I saw it with TWO comics who went on before me. This green, inexperienced little wank was able to get up and elicit laughs from complete strangers.

It felt amazing, and was such an important thing for me to do on that particular day. When I told them it was my anniversary of getting laid off and not having a full-time job, they cheered. CHEERED. For ME! I left there feeling like a million bucks, like I had my own little cloud to whizz around on (like my buddy Lakitu). I now know why addicts are so often drawn to this line of work. I could definitely see chasing that high indefinitely… and I hope I do.

I didn’t really like sharing my morning burritos anyway

After I got home and called my mom and my cousin and bragged to all the people, I sat down to write some notes about the experience. At the top I wrote:

“As someone who normally doesn’t follow through on anything. Tonight felt really good.”

Last August, I was thrown into the too familiar abyss of not knowing what was next. Once again, I was left wondering, “Is there something wrong with me? In what ways am I so deficient that I keep ending up in these professionally questionable situations?” This year, as I reflected on that, I somehow mustered the cojones to do one of the bravest things I have done to date. It felt spectacular, and was much needed. Sometimes it’s incredibly important to remind yourself that you CAN. Because you totally can. I promise.

Baby’s First House Sit: Tenerife

June 25, 2018 / KKRegan / 0 Comments

Some thoughts and reflections from my very first house sitting gig.

As I’ve mentioned before, there are two specific things that are making this journey possible for me: my Registered Companion status on a major US airline, and various house sitting gigs through Housecarers.com. We all know that house sitting is a genius idea that I stole from travelers before me. I get to live somewhere for free and meet and hang out with new animals, it’s perfect.

Grey taking a wee nap

Before I came, a friend pointed out that she wasn’t sure she would like it; wasn’t sure she’d be able to feel at home or be cozy in someone else’s space. So far, that is not the case for me. I remembered just a few days ago that, in my experience, even when one temporarily rents out an apartment in a foreign city, it is usually already furnished. You don’t populate an apartment with your own stuff. This is more or less the same.

Also, besides the animals, you are in the place by yourself. It’s not like being a guest in someone’s home and always being concerned that you are in their way. Just keep everything clean and functional and keep animals alive and you are just fine.

There is one important distinction to note. Traveling alone by house sitting is not the same as traveling alone by hostel. At hostels, there are all sorts of people doing the same thing, out of their respective elements, looking to make friends. House sitting, you don’t get that immediate network. House sitting, there are all sorts of… cats who want you to clean up after them. They’re also usually pretty unwilling to go out and grab a beer or a bite.

It’s a veritable menagerie in here

Something that I didn’t necessarily consider before, but will consider in the future, is the number of animals in any given house sit. Going into this gig, I figured seven cats aren’t much different than one, and birds and fish are easy. Turns out, the fish actually required the most work. Some of them have a special diet, which needs to be prepared, AND their water needs to be changed every four days. Seven cats means seven opportunities for vomit. Seven cats means a lot of fur. Seven cats means you can’t wake up and immediately get to writing with fresh ideas, because overnight seven cats have been using the litter box and eating the food and they need both those things freshened before starting the day. Birds are pretty easy, though I feel badly for them regularly. Birds also poop, a lot, and they don’t really care where they fling it

It has been fun watching the cats slowly but surely come around to me. When I got here, they were all pretty spooked, some even hissing and running away. The first few days were dedicated to winning them over. Slowly, one by one, they stopped running (some of them stopped hissing), then, they started to be okay when I initiated pets. Finally, they would come to ME for cuddles. As of writing, there is only one cat who is still not into me, but he HAS voluntarily sniffed me a few times.

When they snug, they SNUG

Fufy is not into my shenanigans

All in all, my first house sitting gig was quite successful. My hosts were beyond friendly. They treated me as a part of the family as soon as I arrived. They took me all around and even bought me a most decadent birthday cake. The animals, while time consuming, have been wonderful. It’s fun seeing the different personalities of all the cats. The home is clean and safe, plus there is a pool! Not too shabby for my first experience.

Casualty count: 1 fish, 1 bowl, 1 lock… could be worse.

I came VERY close to being locked in for my last 24 hours here

A Colorado Cat Goes to Connecticut

May 13, 2018 / KKRegan / 1 Comment

Not sure who was more stressed out during our trip across the country, me or the cat

Picture this: a woman in her mid-30’s, standing by the luggage carousel at Westchester County Airport, with a cat in a bag strapped over her shoulder, sobbing openly. Two plane-loads of people milling about, waiting for their own luggage, casting furtive glances. Even the cat, who had had a rough go herself, had finally fallen silent.

I can only imagine the thoughts or questions that go through people’s minds when they see something like this in public. I’m assuming it’s more common in airports than in other locations, but I think most people are able to quell their tears until they are in a more private location. That has never been a gift of mine.

A newly adopted kitten, helping me grade papers

I had just gotten to the end of a journey I had been dreading. I had anxiety about moving my cat since it first crossed my mind. In fact, I probably put off making plans like this numerous times before because the cat got in my way. I had made a commitment to her when I adopted her. I was to be her mom and she and I would be companions. I don’t like reneging on commitments, which is why I hesitate to make them until I am sure about them. And this one took its toll. Every time I looked at her, I was wracked with guilt.

Additionally, she is an AWFUL traveler. Every trip to the vet is a torture experiment that involves a lot of screaming and expelling of fluids from all feline orifices. Not a pleasant experience for either of us. Last time, she soiled herself before I even got her to the car. And forget about when we moved to my current apartment. She, a cat who never has an accident, squatted in the closet and made eye contact with me as she screamed and peed. Not a good look. And that was only a four-mile move. I couldn’t imagine how this move across the country would go. In a plane.

The vet had given me some drugs to give her to calm her down, and I did a trial run with them the week before. I was a little surprised to see that they weren’t tranquilizers but anti-anxiety meds. So she was fully alert, just slightly more chill than usual. This would not be enough, I thought.

Nube actually hanging in her carrier during the drug test run

I lined her carrier with puppy pads and a towel I was willing to dispose of. I packed an extra shirt for me, extra rags, extra puppy pads, and a plastic bag to put soiled things in. Stress was at an all-time high as I prepared to take her away (the amount of times my realtor has seen or heard me cry is now just getting indecent).

She did surprisingly well, most of the time. She cried a lot and didn’t sleep. But she wasn’t screaming or panicking. Even the level of soiling wasn’t too bad. She didn’t puke, she wasn’t panting excessively. A few turds escaped (one on the floor of airport security when I took her out, oops), but it wasn’t bad.

In the middle of the second flight, however, I think the pills must have worn off. She had some moments of screaming and thrashing around violently in her carrier. I’m assuming this is when she peed. But again, compared to what I thought it was going to be like, it really wasn’t that bad.

So why, then, did I find myself sobbing in front of the baggage claim?

As the plane began to descend, it started to hit me. This particular move, taking my cat out of our Colorado home and dropping her off in Connecticut, is the first real “no looking back” step of this whole process. Until now, in the planning phase, it has still been just that: a plan. Now it is all starting to take shape. As I walked out the door and into my Lyft to the airport, my realtors were in my place getting it ready to show.

Adjusting surprisingly well to life in Connecticut

For most of this process, I’ve been excited, aware of the things I will miss but knowing that things are fluid and an uncertain future brims with limitless possibilities. Recently, however, I’ve found myself digging in my heels. I’ve brewed up a lot of complicated feelings about leaving, and I’m sure they will only intensify as the clock ticks on and more and more irreversible milestones are hit.

But, as people keep reminding me, irreversible is just a concept. Nothing is set in stone. Nothing is permanent. If, in the deep depths of my heart, I decide I want to return to Denver, I CAN. Maybe it will be a little less affordable once I sell my apartment, but it’s still possible. Anything is possible.

Tag: cats

August in Brooklyn