limbo
since around 15 years old,
when i left home the first time
to work at a hiking camp in canada,
there has always been a next step on the horizon,
an exciting adventure, a move, just around the corner,
a philosophy commune in switzerland, a boy's camp in maine,
shakespeare with gangsters, an internship in times square.
in-between i was footloose and fancy free, not floundering.
being "temporary" has always been thrilling.
now, it feels a little lackluster, less like limbo
and more like stasis. i'm biding my time
in a city i often feel i just chose at random,
because it wasn't new york. if i can fail there,
i can fail anywhere, so here i am. i've lived in san francisco
almost 10 months, yet my furniture is still mostly
suitcases and cardboard boxes. i sleep on a futon
and there is no real mattress in my forseeable future.
this statis isn't depression, i know depression, but they're
kissing cousins, depression and this kind of empty momentum.
on the bus to work today, i grimaced as augusten borroughs
(not one of my favorite authors, but just someone to read until
i get up the energy to walk to the library) hit the nail on head:
it was as though i had begun taking a new medication
and one of the side effects was inertia.
the inertia doesn't just affect my ability
to get off my ass and find the love of my life
or start a wonderful well-paying career,
it affects even the smallest moments.
it seemed that the part of me
that would never put up with shit like this,
was putting up with shit like this.
for example, this morning i had a wonderful conversation
with what i can only hope will be my future rapist.
i was sitting in the sun in front of the school, as usual
reading a book, as usual, and waiting for the kid
i work with to arrive, as usual, when a man
emerged from across the parking lot,
made a beeline for the seat next to me,
and started chatting. "i've seen you around, so today i followed you."
not because i expected the short bus to pull up at any moment,
but because of the inertia (he started talking to me...
i won't stop him.) i ignored what was a less-than-comforting
opening line. he went on to ask me if i was "from around here,"
if i have "very many friends" and "if i am anyone's baby-mama yet."
he also told me that i "look my age" and that he too "loves loves loves
little kids." i told him i don't come to the school to pick up men.
this made him angry, so he said that i got him all wrong
that all he was talking about was that as soon as he applies
and gets a job here me and him and the little kids could play,
like, a little-four-on-four together, that's all.
"that's nice." i replied. "maybe, we'll see..."
maybe?! we'll see?!
on the bus ride home i continued reading the story
that i'd left off in favor of my heart to heart with a total creep.
in it, burroughs talks about his second date with his total creep,
and how he sat and watched as the man changed into a dress,
then spun around and around in the living room, because he wanted
to share his newfound conversion to sufism and
his deep-seated desire to become a whirling dervish.
then burroughs gets to the part where he snaps out of it
and tells the guy off.
i left the apartment. he called after me "asshole!"
but i smiled as i walked, bounding down the stairs, on my way to freedom,
happy to be single, happy to be thirty and able, once again,
not to get all caught up in somebody else's spinning around.
my situation isn't exactly the same, getting caught up in somebody else's spinning
has never been the problem, but i had forgotten that i have felt this before,
this staleness, this inertia, this waiting, but i had forgotten it,
because there has always been and will always be
the moment when i snap out of it.
it was like waking from a nap and remembering
an important call you had to make. it was the feeling of
"how could i have fallen asleep? how long have i been out?"
instant mental clarity, combined with the desire
to wipe something away-- sleep, behavior.
suddenly, i was buoyant too. i jerked on the "stop" rope,
leapt off the bus early, and ran to the middle of the garden
in front of the de young museum. i plopped myself down
on the marble base of a statue of sir francis scott key,
to finish reading the story undisturbed.
resting on the top of a small hill,
in the rich evening sunlight,
it felt like a throne made
just for the footloose and fancy free.
when i left home the first time
to work at a hiking camp in canada,
there has always been a next step on the horizon,
an exciting adventure, a move, just around the corner,
a philosophy commune in switzerland, a boy's camp in maine,
shakespeare with gangsters, an internship in times square.
in-between i was footloose and fancy free, not floundering.
being "temporary" has always been thrilling.
now, it feels a little lackluster, less like limbo
and more like stasis. i'm biding my time
in a city i often feel i just chose at random,
because it wasn't new york. if i can fail there,
i can fail anywhere, so here i am. i've lived in san francisco
almost 10 months, yet my furniture is still mostly
suitcases and cardboard boxes. i sleep on a futon
and there is no real mattress in my forseeable future.
this statis isn't depression, i know depression, but they're
kissing cousins, depression and this kind of empty momentum.
on the bus to work today, i grimaced as augusten borroughs
(not one of my favorite authors, but just someone to read until
i get up the energy to walk to the library) hit the nail on head:
it was as though i had begun taking a new medication
and one of the side effects was inertia.
the inertia doesn't just affect my ability
to get off my ass and find the love of my life
or start a wonderful well-paying career,
it affects even the smallest moments.
it seemed that the part of me
that would never put up with shit like this,
was putting up with shit like this.
for example, this morning i had a wonderful conversation
with what i can only hope will be my future rapist.
i was sitting in the sun in front of the school, as usual
reading a book, as usual, and waiting for the kid
i work with to arrive, as usual, when a man
emerged from across the parking lot,
made a beeline for the seat next to me,
and started chatting. "i've seen you around, so today i followed you."
not because i expected the short bus to pull up at any moment,
but because of the inertia (he started talking to me...
i won't stop him.) i ignored what was a less-than-comforting
opening line. he went on to ask me if i was "from around here,"
if i have "very many friends" and "if i am anyone's baby-mama yet."
he also told me that i "look my age" and that he too "loves loves loves
little kids." i told him i don't come to the school to pick up men.
this made him angry, so he said that i got him all wrong
that all he was talking about was that as soon as he applies
and gets a job here me and him and the little kids could play,
like, a little-four-on-four together, that's all.
"that's nice." i replied. "maybe, we'll see..."
maybe?! we'll see?!
on the bus ride home i continued reading the story
that i'd left off in favor of my heart to heart with a total creep.
in it, burroughs talks about his second date with his total creep,
and how he sat and watched as the man changed into a dress,
then spun around and around in the living room, because he wanted
to share his newfound conversion to sufism and
his deep-seated desire to become a whirling dervish.
then burroughs gets to the part where he snaps out of it
and tells the guy off.
i left the apartment. he called after me "asshole!"
but i smiled as i walked, bounding down the stairs, on my way to freedom,
happy to be single, happy to be thirty and able, once again,
not to get all caught up in somebody else's spinning around.
my situation isn't exactly the same, getting caught up in somebody else's spinning
has never been the problem, but i had forgotten that i have felt this before,
this staleness, this inertia, this waiting, but i had forgotten it,
because there has always been and will always be
the moment when i snap out of it.
it was like waking from a nap and remembering
an important call you had to make. it was the feeling of
"how could i have fallen asleep? how long have i been out?"
instant mental clarity, combined with the desire
to wipe something away-- sleep, behavior.
suddenly, i was buoyant too. i jerked on the "stop" rope,
leapt off the bus early, and ran to the middle of the garden
in front of the de young museum. i plopped myself down
on the marble base of a statue of sir francis scott key,
to finish reading the story undisturbed.
resting on the top of a small hill,
in the rich evening sunlight,
it felt like a throne made
just for the footloose and fancy free.
posted by self_invasion | 7:00 PM
1 Comments:
my hopes and dreams came at least partially true: now i carry pepper spray, get a ride to a different bus stop every day after work, and regularly file suspicious incident reports about my stalker down at the local police station, just in case. not such a cute little anecdote now...
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