I took a walk today, like I said I would - now that the spring's about to emerge in Montréal. There was a point, between the arches confining la Petite Italie, where I had one of those realisations. A time when I asked myself: Where exactly am I? At this point in my life, what has it become? What has changed in the past months?
As far as long-term: I have a Keaton; I'm in a city that doesn't exactly feel like home; I boffed my schooling and will have to try again. Short-term: Unknown schoolwork to be done; Old Italian movies to be watched; I no longer see many of those friends I made earlier, staying with Keaton most of the weeks mostly because I feel that's what I want. But I think I need a better balance. Or just a time off. from it all, really. But I can't preserve what I have and see if the grass is greener, or however it can be put. I'm not looking for other opportunities, just. . un détente.
And when I realised this all, I just wanted to walk farther up St. Laurent, forgetting about 16h00, about le Cagibi, about Scott, even about Keaton, really. And just get back to me, seul.
How I do now so miss years without change: forced with the same people and friends, where absolute routine was broken up by les étés internationaux et doux, where the only heart in conflict with itself was found in Dr. Sanford's class or pining away after Elizabeth Dirth, and its story was told to Bob Cole. Oh, the complexities now: unobservable with true objectivity.
Fuck; modernity, opportunity - what have you done to me?
Maybe I just have a hard time adjusting to this transition phase because I'm unsure about what I'm transitioning to.
3.07.2009
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Amen.
ReplyDeleteWhen I left this country and went to Spain, I had nothing to transition to. Four months of liminality. When I transitioned back, I couldn't take the idea of 'home.' It was no longer a place that existed, until I packed it up in boxes and moved it to this tiny concrete bunker on a freezing college campus. Then it grew, but yesterday I forgot the name of the city I visited in Spain with the beautiful aqueduct and the castle and the endless sunny wheat field that I spread my arms wide in and spun round and round. Segovia.
I remember today, but it made me realize that some experiences can only be felt at the expense of others. We can either be here or there, and once we choose it becomes more difficult (nay, impossible, sometimes) to get the one left behind back. We cannot live everywhere we want at once. Change always brings one to misery, joy, and thence to misery once again.
Hang in there, Montréal may never be home, and your friends may never seem the same as they once were in high school, but the shards of glass that you so painfully collect now will one day form a mirror. Be willing to wait for what that mirror will reflect.
ok, i'm addicted now. thanks a lot
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