Was the name of a location in a ten minute play I wrote about a really shitty girls little league baseball team.
But this is not what I came here to tell you.
What I came here to tell you is more to do with the concept of hope. Hope springing, eternal or otherwise.
The past couple of years have been rather erratic, somewhat unstable, and completely unreliable. Change was, and remains, the constant. Well, change and sweaty knee-pits from sitting at my computer for too long on a hot day. Anyhoo.
Moving to a new city, and a completely new part of the country, a place that I would never (ever, in a bazillion years, seriously) have chosen to live in or even visit – well, I think all the newness just underlines the funny (ha-ha and strange) truth of we humans: we retain at core a hope that things will somehow be better, a hope that is damn hard to crush out of a person. It is perhaps more easily adulterated, perverted into other desires, like my current passion for a certain red sofa in the online Pier 1 catalogue. (I will have you, Red Sofa. Before the month is out, you will be mine. Go, prepare yourself for my coming.)
But this relocating vibe, you know. Creates such hope, such a breeze of new thought – or old thought that in a fresh locale, somehow seems within reach. That we will be better, that we will learn a language, get in shape, read Tolstoy. Even I – embittered, grouchy, herniated-ass – feel this surge of energy that in this new place, life might open up into new avenues, little side streets with creaky shops full of books and wooden ducks and wrinkled fortune tellers that I would never have known. Expansion seems possible here, instead of the endless gerbil activity of our prior routine.
But of course, there is also the truth that, where ever you go, there you are. Simple. Insurmountable. We are who we are, regardless of context. Perhaps there are elements in us that move, items that come to the fore or recede depending on who walks with us and the quality of breath available in our surroundings, but the core remains. Or does it? I don’t actually know. I’ve asked this before and I ask it again: do people really change?
In other news, I am searching for a boxing gym, missing my San Diego trainer something fierce. Getting used to the heat – or least, avoiding it successfully (Ah, come to me thou cool refreshing central air conditioning, wrap me in your refrigerated embrace and do not let me go.) Almost have the apartment put together, enough so that I can settle my ass down and try to maybe, oh, I don’t know – WRITE SOMETHING. You think?
Hope springs…
you’re waxing so poetic. a new inspiration? you have such a fantastic wit, it’s a surprise (but not really) to hear you sound so earnest.
and since you asked, i don’t think people really change… maybe their behavior or their hair but i believe their hopes and dreams are there from the start. at least that is the way it is for me… i get distracted for years and disheartened and then i realize holy crap! i had it figured out when i was 8 – take time to splash in puddles!
Waxing? Yes. Yes, I think I am waxing, but perhaps not in the way you are thinking, more in the way of WAXING MOON, as in GROWING ROUNDER, as in POP-TARTS on my ASS. Showing up on my ass, those chocolate fudge ones.
In other words: Pop-Tarts are the junk in my trunk.
But anyway. I really meant to say just:
Thanks for stopping by, jen!
Dang. I really loved this, I just have been thinking about what to say about it for the last two days.
We thought (well, HIM, mostly) that moving here would be a New Start for us too, moving from the area I had (mostly) lived my entire life, to the area where he had. It turns out…not so much. I’m OK, he is not. He is back to his old habits with his old friends. This is not a good thing.
So, to answer your question: do people really change? My answer would be: only if they really, really want to. And I have known people who have done so.
Whoa! How depressing am I?
But my Bruise is awesome!
Wow, so you guys moved out there for the new start, not for work or something? Pretty gutsy.
And yes, your bruise is awesome. It reminds me of things I saw in the caves we went in on our trip down here – have you ever been to Carlsbad Caverns, or Kartchner Cavern? Pretty fucking amazing. How was Mammoth Cave?
We did move here for his new job, after having been self-employed for the better part of 20 years, from the Chicago suburbs to the Champaign area, where the University of Illinois is. It’s only about 120 miles. We had a graphic design business.
Mammoth was amazing. It was like being IN the set of Lord of the Rings, like Gondor or whatever that place was. The scale and size of the rocks and the cave channels were incredible. The coolest part? We were over 600 feet underground! I’ve never been to those other caves, but I have been to some in the Ozarks (Missouri), like Bridal Veil and Meramec. I like caves.
People were staring at my leg this morning when I went to the grocery store. It is heinous.
I want to relocate.
Do it, sister!!! Get yer ass down here!