Katie Regan

Writer. Editor. Explorer. Creator.

Tag: Non-rev

Preconceived Notions: Geelong, Australia

November 23, 2018 / / 0 Comments

Preconceived Notions is a feature I do before traveling to a new place. I think it will be interesting to see how my impressions of a place change once I get to know it. Disclaimer: the whole point of this exercise is to expose my ignorance, please don’t @ me telling me how wrong I am. That is the point. Thank you.

The very first house sit I set up when I conceived of this mission was to take place in Australia. More than six months prior, I agreed to head down under to take care of two Russian Blue kitties just outside of Melbourne.

I’d been to Australia before, but while I was studying abroad I never made it down to Melbourne, let alone to the Melbourne suburbs. As it is a very large country, I think it is fair enough to not expect to know what one area is like having experienced a few others.

Before arriving to my house sit in Geelong, I was honestly not expecting anything too extraordinary. When I first arrived in Australia in 2004, my immediate impression on the shuttle from the airport to our dorms was, “Ah, it’s like if Canada and Florida had a baby.”

Unlike that journey, this trip will not be in the tropics. Geelong is a large suburb outside of Melbourne, so I was imagining a pretty normal place, maybe even painfully so, such as Highlands Ranch (Colorado), or Stamford (Connecticut), or Quincy (Massachusetts), etc.

Kangaroo
Obviously, I’d see a lot of these bad boys

Having done this flight before, one thing I was really dreading was the exceptionally long journey across the Pacific. When I flew from L.A. to Sydney in 2004, I didn’t have the best time. I am not the best sleeper even in the coziest of circumstances, so sleeping on a plane certainly doesn’t come easily. For the flight, I decided to take a bunch of NyQuil, have a couple of glasses of wine and pass out.

NyQuil, it turns out, is for babies, and was not at all strong enough to take me down. So, instead of sleeping, at all, I was awake the whole flight but was really, really exhausted the whole time. It was torture. After learning this lesson on the way there, I resigned to stay up the full 15 hours on the way back, and it was much better.

Going into this house sit, I basically was just imagining super friendly people, tasty, slightly weird food (Tim Tams PLEASE), döner kebabs for me to munch on, inexpensive shopping, etc.

Since I wasn’t able to come to this part of the country during my last trip down under, I intended to go see the Great Ocean Road (did I make it?! Only those who don’t follow my social media don’t know). I was also planning to take a couple of train rides into Melbourne proper and explore the city. I also thought I would ideally take advantage of the lack of language barrier and do some more comedy. All in all, I expected to meet some more folks, chill out, and get some writing done.

Stay tuned to see if my expectations were spot on.

A Colorado Cat Goes to Connecticut

May 13, 2018 / / 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.

Kitten Tummy

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.

Cat in Carrier

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.

Cat snuggles

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.

The Breaking Point

February 27, 2018 / / 9 Comments

Imagine it was a cold, grey evening. Except don’t, because I was so far in the hole I wasn’t paying much attention to the weather, I’m just trying to set the scene. Actually, considering that it’s Denver, it was probably infuriatingly sunny and crisp. A perfect day out of many, many perfect days. I believe it was late November as I was sitting down to pay my December mortgage. I was feeling alright. Sure, I had gotten laid off in August. There had been some hairy months there, but I had just picked up a seasonal part-time job. Surely, that income would help me to meet my mortgage, buy me a little more time.

I pulled up my accounts. Reality, in the form of numbers, came rushing at me. At first, it was crystal clear, then blurry, then clear again. I didn’t necessarily expect to avoid dipping into my savings at all, but I was hoping not to make such a big dent. Math strikes again. After I paid my December mortgage, I would have $400 in my account. Four. Hundred. Dollars. January mortgage was a thing of fantasy. A joke, really.

Stormy Denver

What the weather SHOULD have looked like

My world swirled in and out of focus. I couldn’t pay my mortgage. I could not pay for where I lived. I was 34 with no job prospects, working as many retail hours as they would throw at me to try to, what? Buy myself some time? Heroically attempt to make my mortgage, but not do much else? Live no life but to keep this roof over my head?

I was sent whirling. Falling. Spinning. Down. Down. Down. This was a dark day. Potentially the darkest. I was at the bottom of hopelessness. Denver has not been kind to me, friends. And this was the culmination of many years of repeated defeat and disappointment. Many, many years of job hunting and (wrong) job getting. Some awful jobs and bad decisions. Now, the newest iteration. I had been applying and applying for months (years, really) with no light at the end of the tunnel. Any jobs I thought I wanted, I couldn’t get a call. Even with jobs I didn’t want, I would find myself deep in the middle of a panic attack on the way to interviews. Wait, why did I pluralize interviews as if I got many? I didn’t.

I feel fortunate because I have a strategy that serves me well on these darkest days, a strategy I used on this day. When I get knocked over, I wallow. Not forever, but for one day I allow myself to really FEEL it. I sit in it and writhe around. I let the pain, fear, loneliness, and hopelessness wash over me. I think on it, I learn from it. I don’t chase it away. Then, nine times out of ten, I’ll wake up the next day with a clearer head, ready to take action to actually get out of the hole– or at least make the hole a little more comfortable.

The resulting moment of clarity was my biggest one to date. And I’ll tell you, fair reader, that once I made the decision and figured out the answer, it was like a cloud lifted. While I certainly didn’t have anything figured out, and I certainly would run into a lot of trouble along the way, taking control of my own destiny gave me back much of the agency that I had lost in recent years.

Cheesman Park

Starting to feel a little more like normal Denver weather

I realized that I was working all these hours at my retail job, supplementing it with temp assignments and substitute teaching simply to pay my mortgage. I was not giving any time to passion projects or actual future plans because I had to focus on certain money. And I had run out of time. Time would keep moving, my bank account would keep shrinking, and I had no control over my trajectory. I could apply for 1,000 more jobs. I could NOT control if they’d call me, and I could NOT control what a job would be like once I got into it.

I decided to take my mortgage out of the equation. If I took my biggest bills off the table, I would have to make much less money to survive, which would give me the time to actually create something worthwhile. This way, if I ever chose (or needed) to pursue a brick and mortar career again, I would have something to show for myself beyond an array of experiences that only show me trying desperately to find my place somewhere that maybe I don’t belong.

In order to regain control, I plan to either sell or rent out my apartment, sell my belongings, pass off my cat to a loved one, and go rogue.

I am not a religious person, but I do believe in some things. I believe that the universe has been screaming at me for years that Denver is not the right place for me. I have ignored these screams out of convenience, or misguided hope. Year by year, those screams have gotten louder and louder. It just so happens, right as I was getting let go from my last full-time job, I was simultaneously gifted free flights on a major US airline. The best gift I could ever, EVER have asked for (thanks, Marie!) landed in my lap right as I lost the last thing tying me here. The universe had now started jumping up and down in addition to the screaming. 

So, I am going to take my flights, and whatever meager cash I get from selling my stuff, and I am going to travel. I am going to live nowhere and everywhere all at once. I am going to housesit (using Housecarers.com) as much as possible (that’s free living!). I am going to get out of my comfort zone and see what that does for my creativity. I am going to make money any way I can. I’ll teach English lessons either in-person or online, I’ll freelance write or edit. Maybe I’ll land in a place where someone needs any kind of help and is willing to hire me to do it.

Additionally, I will work on my projects. One of those projects will be this blog. At first detailing all the emotions, struggles, and victories of preparing to leave, and then reporting my experiences on the road. Come along with me, won’t you?

Formentera Bathing

Me, soon

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