WALKING ON THIN ICE

EVERYTHING GETS BETTER AND BETTER

I had this daydream that everyone in Cleveland was on a wave crest moving away from me, moving ahead in their lives without me, that everyone’s progressing while I am just me. But this is a perceptual artifact. I regard everyone as “back there”; I’ve assigned them to limbo, and then I’m just startled when I hear of new developments in the community back home. I’m not in limbo. Travel forces clarity and growth by virtue of constant transplantation, parallax of place.

I feel great loss in that I don’t have access to the poetry community in Cleveland, that I don’t have the immediate comfort of girlfriends. I’ve learned that people are the most enduring and enjoyable aspect of “place.”

Thought of an old friend yesterday, then logged on to find an e-mail from her:

Three weeks back I had an odd dream. In the dream I tried to contact you and there was a void, totally dark, totally empty and finally a message like voice said, Kathy is no longer here.

Yes, I am changed.

I don’t know what we expected to find by traveling. Our initial plan was to travel for years, but we’ve learned that it has tremendous psychic, physical and financial cost. But the trip’s been a mechanically transformative process. The logistics of getting by in other countries have forced me to respect myself, because I now see I can do anything.

Secure in myself, but not sure who this self is. I’m sure of who I’m NOT, though. Maybe that’s all I need.

In becoming secure, I had to curb my old obsessive thinking patterns. Unfortunately, those thinking patterns bore good creative fruit. I elevated my ego in poetry.

One obsession was to find the “right” man. When I found Smith, it stopped, and my choo choo derailed. Now the search is over, and I’m left with vacancy of habit. I suspect political anguish tries to flower in this vacuum.

My other neurosis: I’d always wondered ad absurdum if I do the “right” thing, if I’m ethical, if I’m “nice.” This worry manifested in physical nervousness, quavering chin, choked throat, an uncontrollable downturn of the corners of my mouth from which I tried to wrench a smile.

Away from my Cleveland petri dish and with a rehabbed self respect, this neurosis has lost its potency. To try to be perfect seems a good thing, but it inhibited rather than enabled me. I’m now more spontaneous, less worried, and I’ve rehabbed my mind’s home to accomplish this. I tender a faith, a trust in myself and others. I attribute to other people a graciousness and maturity, a thick-skinnedness or capacity to absorb my potential faux pas. To attribute maturity to people is a way to respect them.

So, I’ve lost some of my old self, but I’m more confident, less obsessive and neurotic, and I continue to create art and write.

I’m wary of these summations, these “sound bites” where everything is posed as perfect, where I’ve now “learned my lessons.” But in fact, I am somewhat rehabilitated. Perfectly poised for the next onion skin unveiling of my perception.

I look forward to visiting Cleveland again, but I remember the person I used to be not so long ago. I remember my trepidation, transgressions and trespasses.

Friends, Immigration, Chicago

I am pretty well. Healthier mentally than I’ve ever been. But my big internal gripe lately is that I miss having a home base, miss being in a community, I miss having friends. The Internet frustrates me; it’s still an artificial way to keep contact, as satisfying as saccharine.

We have one friend here in London and a number of friendly acquaintances, and we feel friendly towards the people who’ve lent us their house. But because we’re not settling here, we’re not sending a whole bunch of feelers out, and it’s difficult. The human animal requires sunshine and friendship.

Talked to a lady customer in the salon the other day. I said we couldn’t legally stay in London more than 6 months without a work visa. I was surprised to hear her say that we could work under the table and just stay. I guess a lot of people do that. She recommended bartending or watching kids (babysitters get about $14/hour here.)

(There’s a lot of room for “getting by” here. For example, the local trains do not conduct frequent checks to see if you’ve purchased a ticket. That’s probably why tickets are so expensive. I imagine a lotta people are getting freebies.)

When I talked to the woman in the salon I realized how starved I am for female company. It’s just me and Smith all the time. She gave me her number to go get a cup of tea together. I think I’ll call her. There’s nothing like having a girlfriend.

I wouldn’t mind staying in London because it’s got such diverse inhabitants and a poetry scene. It’s visually pretty boring, kinda like the super capital of the business world, but if we settled here we’d pick up our lives and interest again. Legally, it’s tricky for Smith to get in because of his past. Even though the felony took place before I was born, he’s marked for life unless he gets a pardon and they seal his record (which costs $1500 in legal fees). It’d also cost more than $2000 for both of us to apply to live in the UK.

Canada is appealing, but also costs. They have a criminal rehabilitation program for potential immigrants (which costs), but it is an option. I took an online test to see if I qualify to immigrate to Canada, and I pass. (Factors include health and employability among other things.) There is also a citizenship test for which I’d have to study.

So now the plan is to move to Chicago in December. We’ll stay at Smith’s old friend/my new friend’s house for a week or so while we arrange a rental. Prior to our arrival, I’ll book a number of viewings. We found a decent online site and verified there are affordable apartments in the lower west side, my area of interest.

I’m not worried about it at all, because we’ve landed in cities not even knowing the language, and we always found an apartment within a week.