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Well folks, I did it. I found a job and a home in exactly one week. Neither is what I expected…at all. But that makes life interesting. Ironically, I stumbled upon my new home when I was in Sandra’s Office Supply making copies of ‘Room Wanted’ flyers. I had printed all of my resumes at the business earlier in the week. The office is shared with Ed’s (Sandra’s husband) Blade and Key business. With exactly enough room for three customers to stand, I handed Sandra my USB drive and asked for twenty-five copies. She pulled up my Resume and began correcting things. “No, don’t put this in here.” “Word it this way.” She did have a point. Thirty minutes later I headed out with twenty-five revised resumes. Thank you, Sandra. After such great business I decided to return a few days later to make flyers for jobs and rooms. While proofreading my flyers, Sandra casually asked what I was looking for. I asked her if she had any hot leads and she asked if I had time to look at the studio apartment below her place. We drove two minutes up Red Hook Mt Rd to her gorgeous home. She charges me $150 less per month than any other places in the "safe" neighborhoods. Thank you, Sandra. And since the Office Supply, Blade and Key business is all encompassing, Sandra also offers a Mail Service. So I have a mailing address on the island too.

As for the job-I’m crewing for Capt. Robert Manley. He's been on the island since 1975, when he was 19 years old.

Dockwalk Magazine (“Essential Reading for Superyacht Captains and Crews”) breaks down the most effective method of finding a job:

41% Friends aka you know someone

32% Crew agencies

9% Former Employers

9% Walking the Docks

6% Online

2% Networking

1% Chatting local bars

0% Other (they listed that, so I thought I would too…)

I landed my job Other. After a long, hard day of boating around the St. John, Tortola, and Pirate’s Bay (and job-hunting, of course), I found myself on the dock at Compass Pt Marina. As I watched Bob and Andy wash off “Livin’ the Dream,” the vessel of our adventures for the day, Elijah bummed a cigarette off of Robert. We all got to talking and like everyone else that seems to know anything about boating, I gave him my number to call if he heard of any work. He called me the next day and said that he had a charter on Tuesday, if I wanted to give it a try. I accepted, even though the job was crew on a Sting Ray, which is a powerboat or “stink-pot” as Miss J, would say. It turned out to be a fun day of cruising around wherever the guests would like. Checking into customs, boozin, swimmin, shoppin. He said that I could work for him throughout the season. There is more money in powerboating charters but my heart is still set on sailing.

Two in One

7 November 2011

“It’s been one of those days,” the hostess whispers as she spills ice and a plastic cup into my lap, “just throw it on the floor, that’s how we clean it.” As I sit on the plane to St. Thomas, I can’t help but feel very excited and even more nervous. I have no idea what to expect. Weighed down with a 48.7 lb backpack (just made the 50lb and under requirement), large day pack, violin and hula-hoop, this is first time I have lived solely off of what I can carry. I’m thinking that I may not have needed to pack my face paint, hula hoop or fuzzy bear hat, but I just have that gut feeling that I would regret it if I left them behind. Other than Elijah, an acquaintance/friend/ex co-worker, I know no one on the island. Although I am nervous about finding a job, house, and community, I know that everything always works out one way or another. I don’t really have any reason to leave Arcata other than the desire for adventure. I am leaving amazing friends, the most beautiful forests, oceans, rivers, and mountains, and the comfort of security behind.

The plane is full of vacationers, of the conversations I have overheard, many people are excited to lie on the beach and partake in the island’s abundance of rum. Every couple I scope out seems to be in honeymoon mode, rocking their new sparkling diamond rings and still madly in love. There has been no one on my adventure from SF to this point (1 hr away from Charlotte Amalie) that has intrigued me enough to interact. Even with my lack of interest, I have received a lot of attention—although I think my cornrow hairstyle and hula-hoops are the root of the looks and comments. My plan for the rest of the afternoon is to settle in at Miss J’s house, hope it’s not a scam.

9 November 2011

So here I am, the end of my third day in the islands. I am lying in bed at 8:40pm, completely wiped out. A recurring thought that frequents my mind these days is “What am I doing? Seriously, what am I doing?” For being job-less, friend-less, and soon to be homeless, I am surprisingly not too stressed. The past two nights I have been staying with Miss J, a 76-year-old New Zealander I found on craigslist a couple months ago. I’m really glad she wasn’t a scam, although my current living situation is the most unique to-date, in my experience.

With an active lifestyle, model body, and high cheekbones, I was shocked when Miss J admitted her true age to me. She preceded this information with a demonstration of 3 jitsu moves, of which I could only do 2. She has also entertained me with stories of glamour photography, her pet Cheetah of 5-years, sailing from Canada to Australia, and various romances. She has been very supportive and helpful.

I think that moving to the Virgin Islands is going to prove to be healthy for my mind, body, and spirit—even though cigarettes and booze are the ONLY things that are cheaper here than the States (cigarettes-$3, handle of Bombay Sapphire Gin-$15, health like Miss J-Priceless). I have no desire to drink, do drugs, party, or eat unhealthily. Since arriving here on Monday, I have quit smoking cigarettes cold turkey. And it has not been difficult at all (sorry Mom, although you probably already knew, since mom’s always do, you have Miss J to thank for that one). With the heat, I have no appetite, I must remind myself to eat, which has never been an issue. This is faring well for my pocket since groceries are so expensive.

BadAss Lands

27th of August

For as many wrong turns we took, yesterday proved to be the relaxing fun day we had intended. We got to Spokane Creek Campground at 12:30 pm the night before, after a close encounter with a ghostly looking Bison on the side of the road. After a prior phone conversation with Vicki, the receptionist at the campground, we were warned from taking byway 16A. Map in hand, I navigated down 16A as Theresa piloted. This was Whoops #1. About to direct T to turn around, the Spokane Creek sign appeared out of nowhere. We pulled in and pitched our tent.

Friday was the big Switcharoo day. We were very productive… Lounged by the pool, showered, and exchanged make-up routines before heading to Mt. Rushmore to catch the lighting ceremony at 9 pm. Vicki had given us strict directions to avoid the route that took us through the tunnels since we are driving the Uhaul. We headed out dressed in the other’s attire. The drive was beautiful, even though it was the “less-scenic route.” I impressed myself with my maneuvering skills as we whipped around tight switchbacks. Everything was smooth sailing, that is until, I rounded the corner only to see the miniature car ahead of me squeezing through a narrow tunnel. Whoops, this was THE SCENIC route. Too stubborn to turn around, I mean we had driven 8 miles, I told Theresa we would be ok, I held my breath, and released the brake. Thankfully we made it through all three tunnels. Take that Vicki.

Be Lazy

Written 25 August 2011:

“Be Lazy,” and “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” profound advice from our new friends Paul and Sonja Parker, two Germans from Koln. They were visiting Yellowstone National Park, two weeks into their month long honeymoon. Rekindling their love after 15 years apart, both married to others, they found each other once again. So to all you pessimists out there-it really does happen. As for Paul’s advice, I am definitely going to take it. It's not what you think...the “be lazy” part, doesn’t mean sit on your ass and eat bon-bons. It just means to allow time in your life to do the things you love. Because if you do the things you love, you will do them well and in turn be very successful.

While driving out of the park today, Theresa and I schemed up a game for tomorrow. We are going to switch identities. So starting tomorrow, at Mt. Rushmore, I will officially be Theresa Marie Brown, and she will be Elizabeth Anastasia Lacoco. I’m excited to tell everyone about my new beginning in Vermont on the farm, reminisce tales of my rock climbing adventures and just generally be a BADASS. Details of this experiment to follow.

In addition to planking across America, we are also ECJing. For all of those who has yet to be included in the ECJ loop, welcome. The ECJ phenomenon is similar to that of Brangelina but, instead of supercouple Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, ECJ is a combination of the lovely Emma Caroline rubens and Caroline Jane stoddard. This duo is far more powerful though, I mean, look at what happened to Brangelina. Anyways, they made “ECJ Loves You” stickers that we have been spreading throughout our travels.

Leg Dos: Portland to Bozeman

I’m grumpy, tired and cynical. My stomach hurts because I just ate a disgusting A&W burger, which I dipped in creamy buttery spread that I thought was just strangely textured mayonnaise. Gross. For some reason I think that JMO would find this really comical. I don’t know why. Sorry JMO, creamy buttery spread is reminding me of you right now. It’s 22:22 MT, and we’ve been driving since 08:30 PST. I don’t feel like setting up my tent tonight so hopefully our friend in Bozeman will just let us couch surf.

Phew, I’m glad that moment of sassiness has past, it is now 22:28. David Grisman Bluegrass Experience can do wonders for foul moods, just a little travel tip for ya. I must remain positive, thanks David.

We stopped at this random pull off in Montana. I have to admit if I hadn’t been with Theresa, I would have been nervous for my safety. It was a big empty saloon looking shithole. There were a few sketchy characters getting drinks, an arcade, and large gift store with baby outfits with slogans like “all mommy wanted was a backrub” on them. As T was getting the car, I found a sign with the US map on it and people had signed it with a sharpie. I decided it was something I wanted to do. This led to a conversation with the owner of the fine establishment. He said we had just missed out on the annual Testicle Festival. Darnit. Apparently, 70,000 people showed up this year to have some good ole All-American redneck fun. Maybe next year…

In addition to planking across America, we are also spreading the Emma Caroling Jane (ECJ) love. We placed their first sticker in Mt. Hood. Ladies, I’m spreadin’ the love.

This is Stumptown

With bindi's in place and glitter dusted, we embarked on our journey. As Theresa and I pulled from Samoa Cookhouse, we sat for a moment in silence (and not just because the UHaul is lacking a cd/tape player) knowing that this would be the last gathering of its kind with people we love dearly.

At first it didn't hit me that our adventure was finally in motion. But as the fog disappeared behind us and I gazed at our gerry-rigged AC-converter boombox, I knew this UHaul had become the vessel of what is going to be not only an amazing vacation but also a graceful transformation for both of us.

....Let the plankings begin:

After driving 408 miles today we arrived at our final destination-PORTLAND. We are staying with two other Tomoans-Steve and Xelha. They just happened to be having a white trash party, complete with hot pockets and handlebar moustaches (not quite the transformation I was expecting, but I'll definitely take it for the evening). Also, they randomly know a kid named Paul LoCoco. Weird. I seriously think we are related.

In a Clothes Pinch

As a pretty social human being, I have thrown quite a few parties over the past several years. Some more successful than others, I have learned a few things about keeping things entertaining. The stresses of party planning are beginning to deminish especially since the pleasures of partying always outweigh the anxiety of the planning. The Red Bottoms party for my 23rd birthday was very successful. I'd like to send a shout out to my planning crew which consister of Lindsley (neighbor slash best friend) and Zoe (sisterbear). So, thanks guys, I love you.
I attribute part of this success to a new game that Zoe and I adapted from a quirky trademark of our High Sierra buddy Kevin. (Side-story about Kevin: We, Zoe and I, met Kevin at High Sierra 2010 on our last night of the festival. We decided to stay up all night to make it to the sunrise kickball game and ran into him. He was super cool and happened to be there again this year. He helps runs the Mark-eritaville tent and hooks it up. Anyways we like to give him a hard time, don't worry, he loves it. Whenever we'd see him he would have a clothes pin on his hat that he would try to clip on us.)
Memories of Kevin popped into our heads when thinking of ways to entertain our party guest and the idea for In A Clothes Pinch was born.