I've let the year sit now. Settle. Die, rest, subside, subdue. And so my emotions for the year -- and frankly, the decade -- will not be nearly as descriptive and entertaining as probably should be. For a blog. For, what this genre is, a mock-memoir.
But really, how does one start this? The biggest thing, the happiest thing, is that I finally left San Francisco. No offense to the people back there but it was a bad fit, akin to hiring the bubble boy for a sanatorium. And when does this start?
2002, and a possible transfer. I was getting tired of what I was doing in the place I was at and was seeing someone long-distance in Maryland. There was an opening in the Boston office. Succinctly, with little ado save for the emails that met me between when I sent the inquiry (not request) to when I got into work, the thing was shot down. Not to dwell, but the seeds were planted.
Now, I'm not going to talk too much about myself. I love myself, but I understand that such vanity has led to my hopeless, quashed ambitions and desires. I have a healthy understanding of that. And yes, this is a blog and I understand that and I will work to not make this too antithetical to the nature of blogs, but I can't make this about me me me me me. That should have been in italics. I fail.
Long story in short-form: I leave the company, test life possibilities, have a nightmare roommate that makes me sleep with a knife under my pillow, rejoin to transfer, get side-tracked by authority. There should also be a capital 'A.'I fail again.
Fast-forward to 2009. The transfer happens which, considering the creative differences that have rended the cohesion of the supe-staff, I let happen. It feels early. It was probably just right.
And now I ask the question: how damaging do I want to be on this? To myself, I mean. It's a blog, but, for the feeling of inprivacy with these. People will read this. I can't help it or control it. And really, how intense were the emotions towards the end? Or at least, reliably, trustworthy, soundly and foolproof...ly? I can't be certain.
I'm going to make this short, to save face. 2009 essentials: I get strep. I discover Love and Beauty (damaged as it is). I lose great friends and get strep again. Realizing the baggage and being pragmatic, Love and Beauty leaves. Gets relegated to Like and Fetching, but there's still hurt. In a fit of redemption (small 'r'), I reconnect with great friends. Damage is still done. In my fit of trying to connect, as one last hurrah, the move-out is a disaster, it's too early and I'm not ready. I feed crack habits on the last day of my existence on the west coast, so much dumping on the streets of the Tenderloin. Move. Rain. Pleasant Rain. Hills & Hastings. New office, same job. Different clients, job no longer the same. Move again, midnight. Survive and survive and survive and survive.
To be frank, it's not been a bad year. Yes, I'm essentially in the spot I was ten years ago, when the fateful decision came down between New York and San Francisco, and I chose San Francisco, what with being close to family and all. Transposed ten years later, the decision seems fraught. The family was ultimately a non-starter. The community was sorely lacking (again, this is not meant against friends, but the town of SF needs a good editor, and the ability to accept one).
Hairline receding, hypertensive, I can now say this: The year, the years, have left me with a new start with perspective. Twenty-ten. The new environs, it's the seriousness, man. People give a shit. They get their emotions into things banal trite cold but it's an honesty, a respect. I'm working on it, goddammit. I will be here.
A friend told me this place will give you energy, but will feed off your energy as well. I haven't gotten the feed yet.
But the stimulus is still sinking in. Maybe with perspective and the survive I'll do something. If not, at least I have seasons.
No comments:
Post a Comment