Another Long Day in Paradise
6:56AM: The alarm starts playing, another obnoxious ring tone, another obnoxious day... in paradise.
I went on a date a couple weekends ago, with a man. It was date 1 of 2 before our romance came to a screeching halt. Luckily there were no skid marks or anything ... who needs the added injury. But the movie was good ... Boy Culture ... a movie I never would have been able to go see back home in NC ... hmm ... "back home". What does that even mean?
I live in Chicago, IL. I came here hoping that would be my identity, but once I arrived found myself referring to how things were by comparison to "back home". Home ... ... ... it's where the heart is they say, it certainly holds center stage in my story, not as a place I am from... but as a longing, a place I am trying to find.
My old roommate still lives in North Carolina, in the apartment we used to share. I miss hanging out with him, our conversations on reality and philosophy and murdering people for sport. Guess you had to be there ... I'm sure glad I was. But that was just joy in exile ... even prisoners will find themselves some joy from time to time. He wasn't the prisoner though ... he was there by choice.
I would love to admit that I honestly thought that moving to Chicago would solve all of my problems, but that would be a lie. I knew all along that there is no escape from self ... except maybe copious amounts of drugs, of course that's a problem of a different nature. I didn't come here to escape myself, or to find myself, I came here to live with myself ... to find a clue about the whereabouts of Carmen Sandiego... where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?
Wait ... what was I talking about?