10:06 p.m. - 2003-06-16
cooling my heels
such a restless sense of seeking, searching, wanting, needing.
i don't know what i'm looking for, i just know that i don't have it. i don't know what shape it is, how it tastes or smells or feels, what colour it is under starlight and what it sounds like when you rub it against the bark of a tree. maybe it only comes out in the light of the moon, and i should be out tonight relentlessly pacing the alleys, parks and pathways, calling softly in a longuage that only i understand.
maybe it only comes to those who wait, and my own impatience keeps me forever wanting.
maybe i already have it but don't know how to see it.
i heard from my brother last week. he's lost in his usual unpredictable world, and is happily making plans anyway, knowing that most of them will never see the light of day.
sometimes i envy him the freedom he gives himself, the endless adventure that is his life. months will go by when i don't even know what country he's in, when our only correspondance is the notes that read "still alive and well, don't have malaria. *insert country/city* was a blast and we might go to *insert other country* in september. I'll keep you posted."
the lastest such missive was;
>Oh, and did I tell you that my not-really-a-job job might be ending soon
>(like next week) so I may be off to Malaysia sooner than expected (like next
>week) but I'm still waiting to find out.
yeah, sometimes i envy him, but i also really enjoy having a semi-permanent place to keep my stuff. home base, as it were.
last summer we talked about this seemingly genetic wanderlust, and hit upon a great plan - if we pool our resources, it ought to buy a pretty nice little farmhouse in rural nova scotia, somewhere that we can always call home, and live in, or work from, or bring friends to. and between he and mom and i, there's usually at least one of us in the country at any given time, so it would always have at least one caretaker. now if only i can find someplace large enough for 3 people to live comfortably, with lots of room for guests, but reasonable for one person to maintain... with an ocean view, and lots of land... a couple of big dogs, fruit trees, and wild rosebushes... yeah, that's the way to go.
the drawback?
well, *someone's* going to need a job (or at least a reliable income) in order to maintain it, and it sure won't be him. and, while i do ok out here, there's no way i'd be able to find this kind of work in the maritimes. so that dream is still a few years down the road.
i recognize how lucky we are to get along well enough that we could even consider actually living under the same roof - we definitly aren't your typical family.
there was a time i'd never have believed i'd get along with my bratty little brother, and i'm sure he felt the same about his mean big sister, but time (and distance) seems to have sorted that out for us. now we're great friends, but i pity anyone who has to spend too much time with us in an enclosed space. we just share too many private jokes, and the same twisted sense of humour.
maybe that's what i'm looking for - a home.
this is a nice place to live, but it isn't permanent, and it isn't home. it's just a good place to store my stuff for a while.
don't get me wrong - the neighbours are great, the view is fantastic, and it couldn't be better for work. it's just that the city as a whole isn't where i'm meant to be anymore. the thing is, i don't feel like i'm meant to be anywhere right now, and if i'm going to be cooling my heels anyway, this is a lovely place to do it.
having said that, i need to get out now. go sit in a tree and bark at the moon. look for answers in the moonlight. listen for clues on the wind. wonder why i can't see what's right in front of my eyes.
