Hollywood Storage

Here is the promised blog about my storage woes. Warning: what you are about to read is just complete and utter whining about the ridiculous things in this world that we have no real control over.

I have been storing my vast amounts of worldly goods in a 10x10 ft storage unit for about a year now. As I have made the transition back to the South from places near and far, I have collected a fair amount of what is basically so much sentimental junk. I am a sucker for anything lovingly hand-crafted or things that bear a touching sentiment. I keep boxes of old letters and cards, just because I cannot endure the thought of throwing them out. So, I have lugged this stuff, once again, across the country to be safely looked after by the people who owned an air-conditioned storage company called Evans Best Storage. I happily paid my money every month so that my precious keepsakes and pieces of furniture, that all have emotional attachments for me, could have a comfortable home away from home.

About six weeks ago I received a letter from said storage company informing me of some new changes they were making. First, they informed me that they would be changing the name to Hollywood Storage. Second, they wondered if I had noticed the new search lights blazing through the night sky. I had noticed them. I thought the county government had built a new airport close to my house I wasn't aware of. They also informed me about other changes that would soon take place, now that they had a new identity.

One of those changes came about a week and a half after the first letter. This letter boldly proclaimed that as a storage unit user I would now be paying eight dollars more a month for my unit. That is exactly one tenth more than what I had been paying per month. Nowhere in this new letter did they explain exactly why they now had to extort more of my hard earned cash, but I knew why. When I sent my payment in for that month I wrote down a few of my questions about the change in price. I asked, "What do I care whether my storage unit is called Hollywood Storage or Evans Best Storage?" "What does it accomplish to put huge (and apparently expensive) search lights on top of my storage unit?" "I don't exactly want the entire free world to know where I keep my stuff." "Do you really think that putting search lights on the building will attract more customers, or just more bored teenagers driving around trying to establish where the source of light is coming from?" And, finally, "Why should I pay more for changes that don't actually do anything for me?" I asked all these questions to no avail. No one answered my desperate plea for information or sane reasoning. I think they honestly thought that the customers were not going to put two and two together and come up with "this is a load of horse hockey".

So, this month, I moved out. I said good-bye to Evans Best Storage (as they had yet to put my money to the use of actually changing the sign), and I happily tore up the bill that was asking for more of my money to finance their life-long dream of owning a storage unit that looks like the back lot at MGM or Universal Pictures.

River Prayer

I’ll share with you a little story from this weekend that I really think is a turning point in my life, particularly regarding prayer:
My friend Jen (there are four of us in our church group as of today's count) and I were in a two-person kayak (ducky) happily floating down the freezing, cold Nantahala river. We were doing pretty well with Jen in the driver’s seat and myself playing the part of the rudder. Like I said, the water was so very cold, and I started getting cramps in my calves, which I complained mildly of for most of the trip. We got stuck in between two rocks at one point, and we managed to shift our collective weight to the front of the boat and rock ourselves out of the jam. Within minutes of that ordeal, we found ourselves stuck on top of some rocks a little ways down the river. What we had come up with as a solution the first time worked so well, I thought I’d try it again. This time when I tried to step over to Jen’s side of the boat, my leg cramped in the Mother of All Charlie Horses! I was writhing in pain and had a hard time deciding which was worse, the pain, or the fact that we were stuck. Being stuck turned out to be a blessing, because Jen could then stand up in the boat and pull on my leg to help release the cramp, which, by this time, had me screaming in pain. (It's really too bad that the river photographer didn't get a shot of what had to be hilarious looking.) We had successfully gotten off of that rock, when our friend Chip came floating by. While we were communicating what had happened to Chip, Jen and I got wedged against another rock, the river began to fill the side of the boat, and it turned us out. We were both swimming and trying desperately to turn over into the “white-water swimming position” with our feet downstream. Neither of us could accomplish this because of the amount of rocks all around us and the rushing, and did I mention, cold, water. Both of us got to a place where we could stop and stand or crouch (not recommended by the rafting guides, by the way). Jen had lost her paddle, but she still had a hold of the boat. She feared turning the boat right side up, because she thought it would push her over. I looked at her, and she looked at me, and we both were clearly panicked. (I felt somewhat responsible as the person my friend was looking to as the more experienced party, but I had not had anything remotely like this ever happen before.)

I crouched there in the cold water and said audibly,but probably not loud enough for Jen to hear over the rushing rapids, “I don’t know what to do!” Then, in a very uncharacteristic move for me, I prayed out loudly, “God, show us what to do!” I never really think to pray in the midst of panic or pain. But, for some reason, this time, I did. Just afterward, Jen was able to get the boat over to me, and I could hold it while she got in. I got in, and we floated down with just my paddle to steer with through the biggest rapid on the river. We lived. Jen has some pretty nasty bruises, and I have a few scrapes to show for the effort. The amazing thing to me was that I had just recently prayed that God would remind me to turn to Him in prayer in the moment of need, and He did! If it had been the regular me there, I would have cussed or freaked out or tried some asinine thing to try and work my way out of the situation.

Anyway, this is what I learned about prayer this weekend: That even in the midst of trial and tribulation, God is there, He is listening, and He will even gently remind me that I can’t do anything without Him.

Lame Blogging

Some of you (the faithful few) may have noticed the last blog I posted, then took down, last week. That was my sad attempt at putting my pic on my profile. Clearly, it didn't work. But, I am not through trying. Photos have proved to be somewhat challenging for me (weird for someone whose concentration in college was photojournalism, I know). So, I apologize for the lameness of recent blog activity. Many of you are aware that I am in the throes of trying to finish my Masters thesis by the end of the month. So, this blog's purpose is to inform you that the blogging will continue to be lame for a bit. But, just to keep you coming back,look for exciting topics such as my Colorado trip (plus pics!), Heat Advisories, and the current thorn in my side, Hollywood Self-Storage. I know you can't wait, neither can I, I'd much rather blog than write a discussion about media literacy.