Residential Neighborhoods

Beginning my graduate student career. 

This topic is the background information for the next "n" posts.

Moving to a new place always inspires me to fire up my blog again.  It is a clean slate to leave behind all of the disappointments and messes that have been muddling my attempts to live with passion and a sense of purpose.  Of course, our messes always follow us.  First comes the unpacking, the cleaning, the organizing . . . as if my "new" life will maintain this state of sparkling.  Then comes the wallowing in those things impossible to run away from:  memory, boredom, relationships, bodies . . .

Leaving NYC to come to what I presumed to be a quiet neighborhood outside of Boston meant, again, presumably, leaving behind blaring meringue and foul-mouthed toddlers in exchange for the occasional dog barking or bird chirping.  After hearing drunken, spontaneous outbursts of a capella renditions of karaoke favorites, however, I'll take the toddler on his scooter yelling, "Damn dog!" at cops ANY DAY.  A particular performance of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight," had me wishing for the "good ole days" of kids screaming out to each other about where they had spotted a rat in the trash heap outside of my window.

 
After moving to five different places in the past six years (and, now, to a sixth place in what will be the seventh year of this selective time line), I have indeed become better at finding my way around new places which includes effectively using public transit systems.  However, I have never entirely given up the ability to get lost.  Usually when I get lost it is because my neurotic impulses take me to unfamiliar territory and distract me from noting the key landmarks I need to recognize in order to successfully back track.  Neuroticism is what got me lost on this very evening.   

I was enjoying the residential facade of bliss I had been hoping for:  walking by huge houses with well-manicured lawns with the occasional un-curtained window framing a scene of delectable domesticity--people cooking, cleaning, or an unoccupied room with homey furnishings and the impression of activity.  An old man wildly waved at me so I took out my headphones to hear him say, "Oh, you had your thing in!  Well, it's nice to see you again."  I waved and smiled pretending I was whomever he supposed me to be and put my "thing" back in.  Another old man demanded I take out my head phones so that he could tell me to pet his dog.  I petted a miniature version of Lassie obediently. 

It got dark.  It got darker.  I stumbled onto a poorly-lit street with a shadowy figure walking along it.  As I got closer I discovered another man walking another dog.  The man froze when he saw me and looked at me questionably.  He seemed unnerved, maybe scared.  Cautiously, he walked past me.  Soon I discovered I was at a dead end.  I had to turn around, and I found myself inadvertently following this fearful man.  I tried to weave a path for myself that would make our re-encounter impossible, and, well, that is how I got lost. 

I did, however, manage to find my way home.  Also, I ran into the man with the mini Lassie, and he did not seem to recognize me.  How familiar I am at one moment and unfamiliar the next--just like the places I tread.