new landscape
i'm here. here. sarasota. I just encountered a few alums who told me that we were in florida circa fall, 2003. great. that's not really what i came here for, considering at that time I was mostly belly up on a bed listening to red house painters or sigur ros or radiohead, all of which i've since banned from my listening ears. fall, 2003. no thanks. and more than that, i feel so good about what i've done since then. although i am a notorious returning student, i'm nevertheless glad that time's passed, that i dropped out of school, that i learned about who i am, who i like to meet, what i like to do.
the instance of me running into alums and students who recognize me is not isolated. since driving in late on Thursday night, i've had more than a few "isn't your name liz?" or "i'm so excited you're back, here's my number!". both interactions are surprising to me. I guess i assumed i would return anonymously, just a few ripples over the bay, so to speak. maybe i just thought that because i felt anonymous before i dropped out two years ago. or i didn't feel anonymous enough. i guess anonymous isn't the right word. let's just say that back then i lost myself, and i certainly lost my relationships to everyone else. spending time with others felt like a series of lies, and little more than a personal test to see if i could "pass" in public, which is to say not fall down and cry, stop speaking altogether, or instead scream and rip my hair (or someone else's hair) to pieces.
don't worry, i'm not there anymore. i haven't been there for a while, and i can say i'm nowhere close. but it's also a lie to say that part of me no longer exists. of course it does. it resides somewhere in the depths that a few strange voices reside, mostly dormant, until on some quiet night there's a strong tone from inside me that fills my ears with the weight of what feels like dense water -- maybe saline? i'm not afraid of it, and i don't so violently oppose it. i'm strange, i know.
i've been reading and cleaning since getting here. sweeping away dead crickets, spiders, and roaches. setting traps for the live ones. there's definitely a futility to this practice, but if i can avoid daily instances of chasing and killing/maiming insects, I think i'll feel better. I've already had occassion for a sweater twice. Indoor floridian climates are the playgrounds for imaginary seasons. I always loved this about florida, actually. the way I would bundle up to study in a coffee shop. in high school, i dreamt about doing homework cozied in some mixture of layers or scarves with biting cold outside. in florida, i got part of that dream fulfilled, especially if i studied in some corporate environment, like starbucks or barnes & noble.
well, i need to get back to studying, and i'm on a public computer anyway. that's going to be the majority of my posts for the near future -- infrequent and under the real or imagined gaze of nearby strangers.
i miss you all.
the instance of me running into alums and students who recognize me is not isolated. since driving in late on Thursday night, i've had more than a few "isn't your name liz?" or "i'm so excited you're back, here's my number!". both interactions are surprising to me. I guess i assumed i would return anonymously, just a few ripples over the bay, so to speak. maybe i just thought that because i felt anonymous before i dropped out two years ago. or i didn't feel anonymous enough. i guess anonymous isn't the right word. let's just say that back then i lost myself, and i certainly lost my relationships to everyone else. spending time with others felt like a series of lies, and little more than a personal test to see if i could "pass" in public, which is to say not fall down and cry, stop speaking altogether, or instead scream and rip my hair (or someone else's hair) to pieces.
don't worry, i'm not there anymore. i haven't been there for a while, and i can say i'm nowhere close. but it's also a lie to say that part of me no longer exists. of course it does. it resides somewhere in the depths that a few strange voices reside, mostly dormant, until on some quiet night there's a strong tone from inside me that fills my ears with the weight of what feels like dense water -- maybe saline? i'm not afraid of it, and i don't so violently oppose it. i'm strange, i know.
i've been reading and cleaning since getting here. sweeping away dead crickets, spiders, and roaches. setting traps for the live ones. there's definitely a futility to this practice, but if i can avoid daily instances of chasing and killing/maiming insects, I think i'll feel better. I've already had occassion for a sweater twice. Indoor floridian climates are the playgrounds for imaginary seasons. I always loved this about florida, actually. the way I would bundle up to study in a coffee shop. in high school, i dreamt about doing homework cozied in some mixture of layers or scarves with biting cold outside. in florida, i got part of that dream fulfilled, especially if i studied in some corporate environment, like starbucks or barnes & noble.
well, i need to get back to studying, and i'm on a public computer anyway. that's going to be the majority of my posts for the near future -- infrequent and under the real or imagined gaze of nearby strangers.
i miss you all.
posted by LZ at 6:29 PM
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