country mouse in the city
I'm writing with knuckles scraped, arms bruised, and hair tangled. Don't worry. I'm more than okay; moving is some scary, beautiful chaos. To think that I've moved across the country, set up house, seen my parents for the holidays, and gotten rid of a bunch of dross I've been keeping is amazing. Stepping out of Arco with head high and integrity intact was a huge relief; I cannot express how clean and free I feel inside and as though I walked away instead of running. I'm sorry that the reality of the place was more flawed than my dreams had been when I set out for the desert and a way to live my beliefs rather than just practicing them in mind. Whatever the bad parts of the place had been, the good parts (the friendships, the ability to discover myself, and all of the incredible experiences) will stay with me much longer. Leaving was the right thing to do.
Goodbyes lingered like party guests after a lawn-fight, and I didn't get to say all of them because time was limited and I had to rearrange my life in the course of a few days' time. However, I don't do goodbyes (when I started saying goodbye to Bill Campana, I got a little choked up and tried not to let him know it. I think it was because I told him he was always one of my favourites and realised how much I meant it; it's not often a person can hear such spoken word greatness so frequently). I prefer to think of it as see-you-later or a bookmark added so that the page can be returned to at another time. What really blew me away was the cheerful assortment of poets and artists (Bob, Sharon, Harmony, Aura, MCMG, Mandy, Ivan, Klute, Julie, Arrian, and Rebecca) who helped, came to help me pack, or saw me off. Damn, Arizona, you really know how to make a girl feel good. My Arizona burns in my mind, and of all the places I've lived, it is my truest home. From now on, when people ask where I am from, instead of saying that I've lived all over the world, I can say Arizona and know that I've turned native there.
For now, it's Philly with the little corner grocery store that doesn't accept graffiti and the home-style place two doors down that tucks free pieces of the moistest cake ever into your order (FREE), whether you ask for it or not. I guess this'll give me a reason to continue with my determination and focus at the gym. My pad is cute as hell, in a great Bohemian section of town, right on public transporation routes, and less than a mile from everything I could possibly need--from the gym to the organic grocery store to the Aveda salon to a pedicure place to a luxurious little assortment of bars and restaurants and other places to brunch and make new acquaintances. I don't have a job here yet, but by the end of the week, I should be in the right direction. It's easier to get a job once an employer can see you as a face and a name, rather than a piece of paper that's discarded because you live in another state. I excell at the face-game with employers so I have high hopes.
For right now, it's great to finally be settled in my new home. My closet is full of Anna Sui frocks, Mexican pheasant shirts, cashmere sweaters, vintage silk dresses, the kind of teetering, expensive shoes I was afraid to wear at Arco. The cabinets brim with dishes and mugs that my potter friend Larry made, but the 'fridge is empty. The walls are hung with art that either my friends or I have made or just that's inspired me for most of my life. The bathroom boasts a rug softer and deeper than any I've ever had. My red painted trunk from India is the coffee table, African statues stand guard from sunny windowsills, and milagros and nichos promise hope and blessings on the wall nearest my desk. A sweet boy sleeps in my bed at nights, warm and smelling like fresh laundry. I hope people will come and visit me as I learn this city and love it as fiercely as I've loved every other place I've lived. Making new friends is something I intend to do very soon. People walk dogs by my place every day, and I look forward to gaining canine friends along with human ones.
Here's to life and its little adventures!
Opus J
Goodbyes lingered like party guests after a lawn-fight, and I didn't get to say all of them because time was limited and I had to rearrange my life in the course of a few days' time. However, I don't do goodbyes (when I started saying goodbye to Bill Campana, I got a little choked up and tried not to let him know it. I think it was because I told him he was always one of my favourites and realised how much I meant it; it's not often a person can hear such spoken word greatness so frequently). I prefer to think of it as see-you-later or a bookmark added so that the page can be returned to at another time. What really blew me away was the cheerful assortment of poets and artists (Bob, Sharon, Harmony, Aura, MCMG, Mandy, Ivan, Klute, Julie, Arrian, and Rebecca) who helped, came to help me pack, or saw me off. Damn, Arizona, you really know how to make a girl feel good. My Arizona burns in my mind, and of all the places I've lived, it is my truest home. From now on, when people ask where I am from, instead of saying that I've lived all over the world, I can say Arizona and know that I've turned native there.
For now, it's Philly with the little corner grocery store that doesn't accept graffiti and the home-style place two doors down that tucks free pieces of the moistest cake ever into your order (FREE), whether you ask for it or not. I guess this'll give me a reason to continue with my determination and focus at the gym. My pad is cute as hell, in a great Bohemian section of town, right on public transporation routes, and less than a mile from everything I could possibly need--from the gym to the organic grocery store to the Aveda salon to a pedicure place to a luxurious little assortment of bars and restaurants and other places to brunch and make new acquaintances. I don't have a job here yet, but by the end of the week, I should be in the right direction. It's easier to get a job once an employer can see you as a face and a name, rather than a piece of paper that's discarded because you live in another state. I excell at the face-game with employers so I have high hopes.
For right now, it's great to finally be settled in my new home. My closet is full of Anna Sui frocks, Mexican pheasant shirts, cashmere sweaters, vintage silk dresses, the kind of teetering, expensive shoes I was afraid to wear at Arco. The cabinets brim with dishes and mugs that my potter friend Larry made, but the 'fridge is empty. The walls are hung with art that either my friends or I have made or just that's inspired me for most of my life. The bathroom boasts a rug softer and deeper than any I've ever had. My red painted trunk from India is the coffee table, African statues stand guard from sunny windowsills, and milagros and nichos promise hope and blessings on the wall nearest my desk. A sweet boy sleeps in my bed at nights, warm and smelling like fresh laundry. I hope people will come and visit me as I learn this city and love it as fiercely as I've loved every other place I've lived. Making new friends is something I intend to do very soon. People walk dogs by my place every day, and I look forward to gaining canine friends along with human ones.
Here's to life and its little adventures!
Opus J