The point is that I am growing and changing. I have gotten back every aspect of my life that I destroyed or threw away because it was unsatisfactory to me. I still kind of have a bad taste in my mouth about Albuquerque. I felt generally pathetic, unsuccessful, and unproductive, and unloved when I was there. It makes me sad that all people can't interact and have the result of that interaction be fruitful. I realize now that my attitude toward these things is of my own making. I'm sure that some folks there have a bad taste in their mouth about me too. I was experimenting with the benefits of causing havoc, and I didn't much care about the damage. Looking back, unfortunately, lets me see how foolish I was and all of the beauty that I tainted with the darkness I let consume me there. Again, it was my own doing.
But now I can say that I am home here, on the other side of the country. I have a beautiful partner, a fun job, I pursue my passions and I have found a thriving artistic community that I feel connected to and happy to be a part of. I am producing new work and have been given a second chance at nearly everything that is important to me.
Emily introduced me to some of her friends the other night, and we had a fine time. It was a roundtable slugfest of shit-talking and banter the likes of which I have not experienced in a long time and can only be had in an environment where new partners are meeting new partners of old friends. Where there are still fun stories to tell and secrets confidences to rupture. Em's friend's ethnically diverse dating record revealed to his new boyfriend was a high point of laughter.
We made our own honey mustard (made out of, you guessed it, honey and mustard), ate chicken, talked crap about people who make vague references to other people in an online blog (gulp!) and then went out to enjoy music and a backyard bonfire. We looked at the sky and the dogs played in the grass. Emily's friends are fun and they know what is important. They all work in the medical field, providing valuable service to their communities. I helped Gerry (another new pal, and also the scientist behind our homemade honey mustard) inflate a balloon type chair that is supposed to be easy to set up (and wasn't particularly, until Gerry figured it out). I had just watched a video about these portable comfort zones. It was an invention that I had never heard of. Three hours later, thanks to Gerry, I was sitting in one. That's how fast new ideas are being incorporated into reality now.
The next day, I went out to participate in the Mainstreet Martinsburg Chocolate Fest and Book Faire. I am not particularly good at self-promotion, so I didn't really try too hard, not wanting to make the experience unenjoyable or overwhelming for Em and I. But I had books, enough change, some little flyers with my blog and Amazon info on them, an atlas (borrowed from the bookstore) to track my adventures, and a sweet sign that Em made for me.
Here's what became my spiel: "My book is a little travel memoir about how I came from Albuquerque to New York City, volunteering at farms and hostels, traveling with no plan and no money. It's also an account of my inept attempts at human connection and a detailing of my ever-present existential crisis. It's proof that life will help us our if we do our part. I never spent a night on the street, never missed a meal. And now I'm here."
'Here' was Uncle Joe's Barber Shop, with my book in hand and Em by my side. The proprietor will tell you that Uncle Joe's is the only barber shop in Martinsburg. If you've read my blogs, you know this to be untrue. Maybe it's the only shop of any consequence. It is pretty awesome. From the antique cash register (that is actually used) to the old school barber pole, it was a nice place to spend a Saturday. There were authors and chocolate tastings all up and down the street, a band playing in the square, people strolling and buying books (even mine) and talking to other people. It was a little taxing on Em and I (we have just grown accustomed to a quieter existence), but it was fun and totally worth it.
On my sign, Em wrote 'Writer and Adventurer'. It seems as though I have shed the self-applied titles of 'lunatic' and 'hobo' and, more importantly, the labels that other people have given me. I am not a 'liability'. I am not a 'convict'. These are just nasty words applied by fools with more judgment than brains. More self-pity than sack. People who feel so self-righteous that they deem it appropriate to vomit their own dissatisfaction with their situation onto the lives of others, blaming others for the misery that they choose to inflict on themselves. I am familiar with this behavior, but I don't live my life like that anymore. Neither does Em. That's why we are doing so well, and also why some people don't understand our crazy decisions. We don't pay them much mind. You don't like the way we live our lives? Fine. You don't have to participate. So, while we are thriving and moving forward, cleaning up the past while enjoying the present and looking forward to the future, people who still subscribe to the 'you've hurt me very deeply' attitude are slowly being left behind like the dead weight that they are.
Because of this progress, I get to hang out with Em and see new things, do new things. Today Em and I went out into the forest for a hike.
She stopped frequently to tell me about plants and flowers. She knows their names, the difference between poison oak and Virginia creepers. Yeah, Emily pays way more attention to the world around her than I do.
"It's just growing up in West Virginia," she tries to shrug it off.
"I grew up in New Mexico. I saw plants. I can't tell you what their names are, though."
It's what makes Em such a good writer. My version: "Me and Em walked in the woods, there were plants. I was thinking about myself." An approximation of hers: "Scott and I noticed the columbine creeping up the side of the moss-covered rock as the sun shown down through the West Virginia humidity. Scott looked beautiful. We strolled along, radiating love and good descriptions and interesting words in cool combinations..." you get the point. She probably wouldn't say I looked beautiful, I just threw that in there for my own amusement.
At one point, we took a rougher path that led down to the water. There was a tree growing out over the slow-moving water of the Patomic. Someone had fashioned a makeshift ladder by nailing boards into the tree and it led up to a rope swing. I crawled through the sticker bushes that grew near the first rungs of the ladder and made my way about halfway up before Em could call me to come back. A fine symbol, if ever there was one. We are always trying to ascend to the next rung. Sometimes fear will momentarily halt our climb, but our bravery will endure. We may not ever reach the top of the tree, at least in this lifetime, but that is no reason not to try or to let go and fall into the water. Even when we fall, it's not so bad. There is alway a new tree, new friends, new places to discover. It's not the end. It's only a splash in a river, and the ones who love us are always there, on the bank, ready to snap a picture.
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