Starting Over

by

From scratch.

Nothing except the experiences on my back and in my notebook and a couple hundred, no, scratch that, over a thousand photographs of the last five months.

I am babysitting tonight from the 7th and have a land line.

I have been making phone calls.

I have only had one person answer.

Mom.

We had a nice chat and she seems to feel that everything is going to be alright and is excited for me to come back, if only as it makes for an easier trip to see me then heading off to Paris.

At one moment as I scanned through the names in my phone I felt as though I was eating crow with every call and message I left.

How to explain what happened or did not happen?

I made it five months before I threw in the towel.

“Honey, you have been saying yes to the Universe for so long now that something is about to change and I say, “fuck it” do it, you got the opportunity to go somewhere new, go, you can always go back to San Francisco.”  Then she added, “New York is awesome and you would fit right in.”

I am considering New York quite hard.

I have been mistaken for a New Yorker by New Yorkers.

I attribute that to working in a popular bar while I was in Madison which was frequented often by East Coast kids.

Plus the lack of Midwest in my voice.

Wisconsin slips in there every now and again, but for the most part I have a fairly neutral voice, I don’t have an accent that pins me down.

Well, except here, when I speak, then I am obviously not a French-born citizen.

I digress.

I feel like this blog is going to wobble all over the place as I sort out my head by doing the writing.  I sent out a follow-up e-mail earlier today and updated it with the information that I would be returning state side as of May 1st.  That I may also be in New York for a visit and that I would love to talk in person should that happen.

There are a few people I would like to talk to in person.

One of whom I also want to make out with, but that’s another story.

I feel like I am in limbo.

That’s what this feels like.

I expressed to Corinne that I would like to go to New York and named the reasons and asked her what she thought, “go for it.”

Not the response I thought I was going to get.

But I do rather, want to go for it.

I have always wanted to pursue a Masters at Columbia or NYU and with NYU having the MFA program that does a residency in Paris, well, let me kill two literary dreams with one stone.

I told Corinne that San Francisco feels done for me.  That scares me to say that and relieves me as well, it felt done when I left.  If I am not done with it, that too shall be revealed, but it feels finished.

I could be wrong here, feelings are not facts, but I feel this hesitancy to make any kind of real reaching out move aside from notifying a few of my friends that I am coming back to San Francisco on May 1st.

12:05 p.m

I have been offered a couch to crash on for the first week.

After that I really do not know.

I feel stymied as to how to approach looking for work or living accommodations.

What to do?

Where to go?

Whom to see?

Well, I want an Americano with soy milk from Four Barrel.

And another from Ritual.

And, um, maybe one from Sightglass too.

I know that much.

I will probably pop my head into the bike shop to say hello.

I will walk around in a daze wondering if I even left at all, then knowing that I did as I don’t have anything to my name but my name.

Playing it so close to the bone.

Starting from scratch.

Starting over with less than I went with.

Although the gains are probably far greater than anything I can imagine right now.  I know things are happening, I have said yes to so many things and said, what ever you want, show me the way and let me get out-of-the-way.

The ticket materialized.

A weeks couch surfing materialized.

I know the solution and it works for all of my problems.

I do not need much and I will have a much greater chance of getting it in the states then I do at the moment in Paris.  And Paris is not over yet, this is just the opening salvo.

That ticket back is a round trip with a return in March of 2014.

I could come back sooner.

I did apply for a residency here through Art/Slant, although I have not heard anything solid about that, the decision has not been made, I received an informational e-mail regarding it yesterday.

Or I could not come back at all.

I don’t know.

In the not knowing, all things are possible, and I believe that is how I get to behave, that all things are possible, probable, and actually happening with out my worry about how “it will all work out”.

I am caught.

I am held.

I am taken care of.

And going back is going to allow me to really take better care of myself.

Not that I feel I have been doing a horrible job, it’s just going to be less of a struggle then it is here to find work and steady employment.

Since I have papers and all.

I also have a phone contract that I put on seasonal standby and what do you know?  I actually set it up for six months versus the original three, I should be able to call my company and actually get service from my old number, and I mean my really old number, the one I have from when I lived in Wisconsin.

Some how or other, that old Midwest flavor wants to sneak in still.

As I sit here on the sixth floor looking out towards the Eiffel Tower, three minutes to sparkle, it all does seem untenable and unfathomable and unknowable, and that is just the way it is.  I have not lost a thing by coming here.

Well, a bite out of my ego, but that always needs deflating.

I have gained so much.

I have 24 days here to gain more.

I am not done yet.

 

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