Maybe you’ve heard of that song by Garth Brooks—you know, the one that talks about the Man upstairs and how sometimes it seems he’s not listening, and you get all bummed out about it, and you fret and spurt out curse words and get all stressed and demand to have your shit responded to NOW… but then you realize that wow, he really does care cuz those prayers you sent were just not right for you and he knew that but just couldn’t say cuz it woulda ruined the surprise… and those unanswered prayers turned out to be God’s greatest gift. You know that one? Well, even if not, you get the gist. When Garth first came on the scene, it was instant love for me. I hated Country, but him… I looooved me my Garth. I knew all of his songs by heart and secretly sang them in my car when nobody was looking. Certain times in my life since then, his voice comes echoing into my head—because, come on! His songs had MESSAGES! They spoke the truth! And, they always calm me when I get too into my head and forget some of those truths.
Most recently, I had to sing a lot of good ol’ Mr. Brooks’ song because I had a whole mountain of awesome sauce dreams collapse on me and I was kinda pissed off about it all! I was certain I had found my dream city and was going to move there in January. I was also certain I would be offered a job that paid three times my salary and brought me all over the world, which led me to also be certain that I would be buying a home in said dream city and filling it with massive amounts of toys. Details aside, slowly and most painstakingly, I realized (kicking and screaming) that all of the above were most certainly NOT going to come to fruition after all, and it felt like I was being shoved back to square one in a rectangle pleather body suit.
In come the lyrics to my head… “Some-times I thank God, (da da DA!) For uunanswered prayers, (Sing it with me..) You know when you’re talkin’, To the Guy upstairs, And just becauuuuse He doesn’t aaaanswer, Doesn’t mean He don’t caaaarrreee……. Some of God’s greatest gifts, Are unanswered praaaayers.”
So, I held onto these words, I repeated them lyrically more often than I really liked, but they kept coming, and so I let them play in my head. I had to make a decision: Sulk on the fact that things out of my control were out of my control… Or, refocus my thoughts and turn them towards finding those elusive secret reasons why my perceived perfect outcome did not unfurl. I looked at all of the basing options I had with my job, and deducing the ones I could afford to live in, and knowing I wanted to stay on the west coast, I had one viable option: Phoenix. Meh. Really?? Well, I do love the desert, and I’ve never really considered it before, so… Hence began my obsessive research. And, with that, to my surprise, I discovered a little town that has surprisingly stolen my heart—The Old Pueblo, the one and only, the li’l wild west, rough-around-the-edges (and sometimes in the edges)—Tucson, Az.