Purple Heart

I've always been one who values quality over quantity.  This is especially true of the people I choose to be around and befriend.  I truly believe I have some of the most intelligent, funny, talented, and compassionate friends around.  I feel lucky.  (This is a disclaimer for the following...)

This past weekend I visited C-bus for the Color: Purple show.  I always feel rejuvenated after spending time around my friends; this time included.  Even though the visit was brief, it energized me and made me feel at home.  However, it made me realize that C-bus is not the place for me anymore.  This takes nothing away from my friends, but reaffirmed that people come and go, but real friends are there for you no matter- even distance.  (I know, this is cliche, but cliches exist for a reason.)  I know I keep writing about "home" and "being in Detroit", blah blah blah, but it's a difficult thing for me to wrap my mind around.  I feel better about being here though after this last visit and I can't exactly figure out why, but some things are better felt than said. 

My life is slowly coming together here.  Hopefully in the coming months I can get a car, my own apartment, and thus, independence!  So if I could just transplant all my friends to D-troit, my life would be complete.  But, I'll be okay with a 3.5 hour drive every now and again too.


I miss not missing

Maybe I've set myself up to be in the situations that I've been in for the past, I don't know- 3 years, but I'm sick of missing things.  It's not a particularly good feeling and one that prevents me from living in the present to some extent.  When you have a longing for something that isn't present, do you really enjoy and appreciate what you have.  I always try to stay positive, but sometimes this missing overtakes me.  I also always try to live in the present, so this makes for personal struggle within.

In Ukraine I missed people- friends and family, even the familiar faces of people around town that I didn't necessarily know.  I missed the familiarity of home.  I missed spice, diversity, art, movies, going to the Park of Roses and reading on a blanket, affection, kayaking- the list could go on.  The only good thing about this particular situation was that I knew, more or less, what I was getting myself into.  (Okay, rabid dogs, frozen bodies, and rogue ears not included.)  So mentally and emotionally I was as prepared as I could be for this missing.

What I didn't expect was all the things I would miss once I got home.  I guess I mistakenly equivocated missing with not being home.  But, then again, I suppose home is an elusive idea for me.   I miss Ukraine, but it's not the overwhelming missing feeling that I feel towards other unexpected things.  I really miss having a sanctuary all my own.  Yeah, I have that personal sanctuary inside, but physically, I don't have a place to call mine.  This bothers me a lot.  I've been on my own for almost 8 years, and now I live with mom.  Shit.  It could be worse, yes.  But, I can't listen to my music at my volume, can't cook what I want, how I want, walk from the bathroom naked, have an intense painting night and leave things out for tomorrow...Again, this list could go on.  Anyone who knows me knows that I am an extremely independent person and that intensified, for better or worse, living alone in Ukraine.  

I miss knowing where I'm going.  I miss knowing where to go.  I miss having someone to go with.  I miss live music.  I miss wine nights with good friends.  I miss feeling productive and like I'm contributing something positive to society.  I miss not owning a TV and reading (yes, this is my own American weakness).  

When will this missing end?  I hope I haven't set myself up for a life of missing things.  That's no way to live.


So, here I am.

I'm kind of in this relationship.  I don't really know what we are and I honestly don't care. That's not saying that I don't like him- I do, or at least I like spending time with him.  That's the same, right?  I don't know.  Anyway, people keep asking me, "how's it going?".  I say good- because it is.  This is then followed by an inquisitive "...and?"  And, what?  What do they want to hear?  

I've never been conventional, so why would they suddenly expect convention?  Actually, I'm probably even less conventional since being in Ukraine.  Things are going well with this guy, at least from my perspective.  We have fun.  He busts my balls.  We share similar values and aesthetics.  He listens to good music.  He's smart.  He challenges and inspires me.  I have a friend.  That's good.  It's organic.  

I don't even know if I want anything more than what we have. Maybe. But, I just don't know (why are people always afraid of this answer?) I'm in a new and different place and figuring out how it all fits together with my "new eyes".  I've got a lot of soon-to-be changes (I hope) in front of me.  For now, this is the only part of my life that seems to be working, but once the dynamic changes, everything will be rearranged.   Plus, he's a stranger in a strange city too; I can definitely empathize with this situation.  

I guess what I'm saying is there are a lot of "I don't knows" in my life currently, so, why not let this be what it is- something with a definitive answer.

Good, with no "and....".

E.B. and L.B

"If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day."
- E.B. White


Spring's coming and the sap's a flowin'

I thought I knew just about all there was to know about planting seasons, harvest seasons, and mating seasons.  Not so.

As I was laying in bed last night trying to get some sleep in case I was called to substitute early in the morning, I was rudely disturbed from my pleasant reverie.  The noises I heard took me back to the days when I lay awake in my Ukrainian apartment listening to the pigs and chickens, but this time, the noise was geese.  Wooooowoooonk.  Woooowoooongk.

The noise was relentless and unattractive.  What the fuck?!  So, at about three in the morning I decided to do some research.  I googled "goose mating season".  Voila!  A goose's mating season is February-March.  

I was being kept up by fucking geese.  Not fair.



Man, do I love dancing.  I went to this abandoned warehouse Friday night with a friend and his co-workers to experience some Funky Soul.  The warehouse itself reminded me a little of my Soviet apartment building, but in the bowels of Detroit.  Kind of one in the same...kidding...kind of.  When we arrived there was about 200 people or so getting warmed up to dance with BYOB-alcohol and herb.  As the night progressed, about another 300 people joined in the funk, with the majority of people dancing.  The crowd seemed to be mostly young high school burb kids, but nonetheless I realized how much I miss dancing, especially with my friends.  There is such an energy generated with my friends and dancing...and this music would have been right up their alley.  I, naturally, danced, danced, danced, whilst thinking of my friends' smiles that I miss.  It was an all-round good night of funk and soul.

Conclusion:  I need to learn some breakdancing moves.  That would be badass.

What also is interesting is the etymology of the word funk:  from the French word funkiere "smoke" and first used in 1959 in reference to cheese- old, musty.  It then came into jazz to mean earthy, strong, deeply felt and in the 1960s it acquired a broader slang sense of fine, stylish, and excellent; all quite apropos for describing the evening.