22/03/2011 § Leave a comment
My face has changed. Or I look older. Some are weary of it and I feel worn out.
I have no explanation, no excuse then having done this to my own body. Perhaps it was my wisdom teeth growing in. Perhaps it was stress, because, to be honest, I really don’t remember what happened in 2010. I can remember big events, like weddings and birthdays and trips to New York or Carleton Place. I can remember Port Perry and the new Sheridan-home and sitting in STB’s room listening to records and sharing a beer. I remember getting a new job and learning how to make coffee art. I remember going to Zola’s and sipping coffee while nibbling coffee cake. I remember gathering a group of friends to drive to The End of the World and our home hosting a turkey-dinner for friends. I remember solitary nights when the T-squad were away, sipping Scotch, playing music, dancing, dancing, sewing, crafting. There were hazy nights of drunken obscurity, multiple visions of spinning stars and stars. And the moon, oh the moon.
I remember these things I did. I did many things. What I don’t remember was how I felt.
I don’t remember if I felt pain or sorrow or happiness or mediocrity. I did not feel my hangovers nor my hunger. I did not feel tired or awake. I did not feel the sun burning my skin or the grease in my hair or the prickle growing on my ankles. I did not feel dry or sweaty or pleasantly comfortable. I spread myself thin.
Since re-arriving in Latin America, I don’t know what has changed — perhaps my mind, perhaps my place, perhaps getting two-and-a-half glorious months of being on my own — but I began to feel again. Like a tide of water to blow down all the walls I had built.
Not by the hair of my shin-y, shin, shins.
Shave them legs, ya hippie. I needed to remind myself. Or don’t. (But, I did).
It took more than I thought it would: life, death, everlasting bonds, saying “hellos”, “goodbyes” and “see you soons”, a bike crash, a flight, a 4-hour car ride with an old friend, another plane ride, bus rides around North-Eastern North America and Eastern Uruguay. It took The Black Keys, Nick Drake, Kurt Vonnegut, Joan Didion, my parents, my friends and bottled nights of broken dreams to feel again. Or to know what it felt like to feel again.
The frightening thing was the ability to live robotically and still survive. Despite every thing we put on our plate and our tendencies to forget to eat, we all pull through. Luckily, we are always surrounded by those that remind us who we are, where we are from and where we are going. Luckily, we have some pictures to remind us of the places and different spaces we have been to.
The Scot from Uruguay commented on some fb-photos,
“Whoa, you don’t look like you at all there, or there, or even there.”
“Yeah, but that’s ok. I’m not going to hide those moments. Still shots of my growth, reminders to ‘keep on keeping on’.”
And he smiled. And he uploaded some pictures of his self to his facebook, the ones from his ‘down’ moments, the ones that made him look old (his words, not mine).
Yeah, everything is different. Even Buenos Aires is different. Different neighbourhoods. Different experiences. Completely. Change is a good thing and it’s not about getting older, it’s about getting wiser.
We will always remember that and carry it with us.
*A huge thank you to The Black Keys’ album, Rubber Factory, for providing the soundtrack for my chain of thoughts.
** ps. A possible huge film fail. Camera might need some fixing. Or maybe, I’ll have to change it up.
*** pps. Camera did not fail. I epically failed at putting the film in correctly. So it goes. I’ll remember that for next time.