It's been a weird week. Tonight, for example: I went to Target and, as I was walking in, a balloon (as in, the great big kind people ride in) almost hit the side of the building. Then I came out of Target to find someone had dumped what appears to be lemon slush on my car. At least, that's what I HOPE it is...
Also out of the ordinary this week, I went to a Feist concert with H. I'm not really sure who Feist is, except she reminds me of a less angry Alanis. And I wound up sleeping at my sister's the next night, because it was too hot to sleep without air conditioning. (That's not really that strange, except that it disrupted my schedule a bit.) I also misinterpreted an email from a friend who I hadn't heard from in awhile, and thought she got a great dane; she actually had a baby. Annnd, just to top it all off, I proceeded to have a huge meltdown and pick a fight with a dear friend, who I haven't heard from since.
Partially fueling my meltdown is that I seem to have become somewhat conflicted about this whole Boston thing. Some days, I feel like I am exactly where I'm supposed to be and genuinely content - like walking back to South Station on Tuesday night after the concert. It was about 10 pm and dark out, and probably not the best idea for a woman by herself to do. But the moon was hanging low in the sky, and the buildings were all lit up, and it was really breezy so there was a nice oceany smell in the air. I felt perfectly safe - all I was really worried about was how much my feet were hurting from my sandals.
Other days, though, I get off the train at South Station and imagine hopping the next bus for NYC. Usually the hop-the-bus days are after a night of having my "missed-my-plane-I'm-not-where-I'm-supposed-to-be" dreams, which always leave me unsettled. I'm not entirely sure what it's all about. I had these dreams before I left Memphis, and then again before I left Maine. But I've only been here 3 months!!! I'm thinking that this time, it might be less of a geography question than a philosophical/emotional/spiritual place. I don't think I actually miss NYC, or want to go back there. I miss the IDEA of NYC, in no small part because as bad as it was, it was all MINE. The IDEA of NYC is limitless and powerful...the reality, a broken spirit that I am still trying to recover from.
Of course, I miss the IDEA of other things, too, and one night the train was too packed for me to knit so I wounded up brooding on the IDEA of other things. The end result was a rage in me about all the things I can't have, didn't get, etc. etc. And that fueled a downward spiral that concluded with the irrational chastising of myself because I can't knit Continental-style. I am, as I routinely remind myself, my own worst enemy. All I know is, I have the U2 song in my head: "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For". (everything has a soundtrack, even my existential crises.)
This weekend: northward bound to A.'s camp, which is bound to cheer me up. This will be my first time back in the Augusta area, and I can already tell it's going to be weird to not go back to my apartment in Hallowell. I miss my back deck and bathtub!!!
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