meandering thoughts on a friday afternoon

I've already passed the quarter of a century mark and yet since I've left home I've never lived in one place for more than 2 years. I've been running back and forth between college and home, graduate school and bartending, and now Korea and Europe. As I've set my eyes on the next path I've never considered that destination as anything more than a year or two stopover on my way to the next thing.

It's weird to think that many of my friends are becoming married, having children, moving in with their significant others, planting roots. Not weird in any sort of a judgmental sense, just different from what I've been doing. What I am doing. What I will be doing.

There's nothing novel about this. I'm not trying to romanticize the feeling either. It's not some sort of dramatic, adventurous, and enticing life style. I'm not privileged enough to never have concerns about finances, or to be able to go literally anywhere I want. I don't subscribe to the sickening philosophy of wanderlust, romantic solo treks for the sole purpose of self-fulfillment, or some sort of skewed perception of what it actually means to live abroad for a long period of time. I don't cast shade on my friends who have stability, who have bought homes, new cars, and Haustieren. I wish I had a dog. I had just purchased a brand new car before I impulsively decided to leave the country a year and a half ago. There are nights where I want to be home, near my family, with my old friends.

But that's not what I do. Or rather, that's not what I've been doing and what my life has become. This is why even now, as I book a ticket to Europe, I am doing mental acrobatics as I try to wrap my mind around the idea that I will be staying there for a while. For the foreseeable future. For an extended period of time. This is why these thoughts are borderline incomprehensible to me. At my undergrad I lived in the dorms for two years, two different rooms, at the house of a friend's uncle, in a worn down old house with three friends that was condemned and torn down the year after I graduated. After this I went to graduate school where I lived in the same apartment for two years, the longest time in one place since high school. I'm finishing a year in Korea about to run away to Stuttgart. I set up countdowns, set my sights on the future, and have internalized the most efficient method of counting down my time while simultaneously enjoying myself and making it fly by extraordinarily fast.

Even 12+ hour flights have lost their dreary drag and lengthy exhaustion. Now I get on the plane and have internalized the process: take off, ten minutes to seatbelt sign off, ten minutes to water or snacks, naptime, movie time, naptime, writing, a meal, naptime, writing, another drink (maybe wine this time), a movie or two, another meal, another movie, seatbelt sign on, landing. I don't look at my watch, I just wait for the flight attendants to signal what stage of the trip we are on - are they giving out drinks or food? have they passed out landing cards, arrival cards, customs declarations? are they waking people up to set their seats at 90 degrees to prepare for the decent? - and I resign myself to a weary half-asleep slumber mixed in with brief moments of clarity, writing, observation.

The skill of making time fly by seems to be coming with age, which makes sense. When you're 8 you've only seen 8 summers come and go, so that three month period between May and September feels like the greatest extended vacation. As we get older we try to grasp onto these brief spans of time that are feeling shorter and shorter in comparison to the months that we have lived. This may be why I could look you in the eye and say that one year isn't a long time to be on different continents from my boyfriend. This might explain my shameless desire to just run away to another side of the world for a little while. 12 months is nothing. 365 days is brief in comparison to the 9,371 that I've lived.

But here I am, landing seasonal positions in a country that I want to call my home. Booking tickets to an area where the language barrier will be more than a temporary annoyance, where I want and need to immerse myself and become fluent because I will be there for more than a year. Here I am trying to find a way to create stability in my life. Here I am, trying to move forward by planting roots somewhere.

And yet here I am, wondering if the moment I get where I want to be going I can't spend more than a year or two in that place before feeling the itch to move on. How do you find a place and stay there, how do you avoid wondering what it would be like somewhere else? Without the finances to travel the world on lengthy vacations?

I suppose it all depends on who I'm with, how I feel, and whether the place that I'm going is indeed where I want to be.

It all depends on my future definition of "me."

a day in the life

“Expectations are resentments waiting to happen…”

I can’t stop listening to Macklemore. The more music by Ben Haggerty that I find, the more I fall in love with him as a lyricist, artist, and musician. Otherside, Vipassana, Fallin, they are all just great songs that have depth and real meaning. They are especially fitting for the low moods that I sometimes stumble into here at the festival when I start thinking about the amount of money I was scammed out of to come here. It never makes sense to me but when I’m down or mad or upset about something I often just need to listen to some loud/angry rap, or some deep/thought provoking hip hop. Macklemore has come in at the perfect time and I can’t put my headphones down. It’s a great feeling when you hit up a new song that just resonates with you, and that has happened a lot lately.

Stepping outside of my hotel room and away from my headphones and I’m still in Rome. This morning I stopped by Campo dei Fiori for some delicious freshly ripened fruit and decided to take that breakfast over to Castel de Saint Angelo to take in some more of the city while I ate. This was my first lone excursion around for an extended period of time (not out of fear of being alone but simply because there is usually someone bumming around the hotel that wants to join me) and it was excellent. The weather has finally cooled down and today it was cloudy with a nice breeze. Granted it is still 30 degrees Celsius out there, which is pretty hot, it feels nice compared to where it was my first week here. After eating and relaxing in the shade for a while I decided to swing by the Trevi Fountain again so that I could make a wish and throw some money into the fountain. I heard that doing that guarantees that you will be back in Rome at some point in your life, which is something I would love to do. While at Trevi I heard an amazing violinist playing through some repertoire in the streets and I was surprised at the lack of people watching/enjoying his music because it was legitimately quite good. But then I suppose I didn’t stick around for very long either. I felt like walking and I was feeling too claustrophobic to stay immersed in the tourists at the major touristy areas so I found myself moving on quickly away from the violin player.

I love being surrounded by the history, the architecture, and the art in this place. When taking back alleys and different routes I always, without fail, find myself stumbling into a small Piazza or Villa with beautiful depictions of Jesus (you find Jesus everywhere here), picturesque statues, or even bountiful gardens and fountains. It’s overwhelming at times. America turned 233 today and that seems like a long time until you realize that Rome was founded somewhere around 625 BC. Which would make Rome what, 2638 years old? Damn. No wonder it’s overwhelming coming here, where the mold in some of these buildings is probably older then the country that I come from. That mold has some history, but that doesn’t make it any easier to breathe.

I’m glad that I will get the chance to go to Prague and then come back to Rome again before coming home to the states. I feel like leaving Rome and then coming back shortly thereafter will be a good way for me to re-appreciate the city in a fresh new way. Especially since I will be coming back alone. Travelling alone is always a more insightful and revealing experience then traveling with friends, whether they are new or old friends. When I’m alone I get to decide what it is that I’m going to do and I can’t just allow someone else to decide for me. Easy going and relaxed, sometimes I need to be selfish and do what I want to do, which is far easier to do when I’m alone.

Rambling stream of consciousness, pardon the lack of focus in this post. Just some wandering thoughts from this wandering musician.

Looking back before leaping forward

So today is technically my second to last day in America, although it feels much more like the last day since tomorrow will be spent learning more about various different airports around the world. And what a beautiful way to spend my last days in Minnesota.

Yesterday found me travelling the well-worn path to Minneapolis to meet up with my friends Katie, Dana, and Danielle at Psycho Suzie’s Tiki Bar for dinner. The sky was blue; the weather was beautiful, green grass and trees, basically the perfect summer day for the first time since I’ve been home. What could ruin such a beautiful day? Cue a flat tire from stage left. I was all dressed up because I was meeting up with a guy I had met recently, Nick, that night and wanted to look nice. So what did I do? Naturally I jacked up my car, pulled out my spare, and changed the tire in my skirt and boots. It was hot, the sun was blaring down, and I looked like a fool as I attempted to retain my honor as I bent over and crawled around positioning the jack under my car in a skirt. But I did it! It was awesome, I was extremely proud of myself. After our lovely dinner at Psycho Suzie’s my posse and I went to St. Anthony Falls, an area of North East Minneapolis that I fell in love with years ago, and had countless different mini-adventures as I took in the glory of Minneapolis, a city I love.

I ended the night with drinks with Nick at Pracna, a bar that has a wide variety of tapped beers that from 9-11 go on happy hour at $3 a glass. We talked about everything and anything, laughing raucously, giggling innocently, and really just having a jolly good time. We ended the night with a moonlit stroll along the stone arch bridge and I couldn’t have been any happier with my day.

Today I drove home early to meet up with my mom so that we could kill some time on the pontoon. Because, you see, Mother Nature hates me and decided to have the two nicest days in weeks immediately precede my departure date. But alas, such is life. I managed to get some sun, have some drinks, and burn my skin with my mom all before 2 p.m. that of course necessitated a nap of epic proportions. This being my last day in Brainerd I had to celebrate the town in the same way I always have: Applebee’s with my mom (spinach and artichoke dip aww yeahh), a drink and pool at Shirley’s bar (9^th Street), and time spent at Paradise with the one and only Ashley Deem.

It seems only fitting that right before going on the adventure of a lifetime I took the time to remind myself of why I love the place I live in now. Minnesota, Minneapolis and Brainerd in particular, is a beautiful place with wonderful people and countless different things to do. I have lived here for the vast majority of my life and have done so many things with so many people. As I prepare myself to jump into the sky and go around the world tomorrow it’s a good thing to remind myself of where I’m from and who I am. I’m sure I will be missing the lakes, the trees, the wide open spaces, and of course the pool tables while I’m in Rome. But hopefully that feeling of empty longing will be replaced with the novelty of a new place, the excitement of a city older then America, and the freedom of going somewhere new to be exactly who I have always known I would wind up being: a wandering musician.