Sunday, 16 March 2014

continental drift

It's been a while since I tangoed with these old keys.  Two-faced Time - that rebel, that devil - has been perfecting its frenetic chop-change between days gone in minutes and minutes lasting days.  You see, we've boxed up all our 'remember whens', donated all our 'what's this froms' and set our loaded packs on one last time. (For the time being.) 

Half a decade.  Half a decade away from my native shores.  Half a decade of city-country-crossroad-culture-career-circumstance-crusade-corollary-craft-craze-curiosity-careening.  Of new dialects turned familiar, of novel foods becoming everyday, of questions I hadn't known to ask being answered, of decidedly different ways and means simply becoming ways and means.  Of stepping outside my reality, my point of experience.  It's been half a decade of drift, one lesson and continent to the next.  And what a half a decade it was - enjoyed, educated, emboldened, enlightened. And now,


It's back to the fifty nifty, the semi-prodigal daughter (my extravagance was miles, not pennies) returning to learn her future.  An unblemished slate, not marred with set plans or careers or locations.  Our oyster, America!  Time to make a home in a home, get a job I aim to keep, keep my thinking global but my energies local.  

The difference in a nomad and a traveler?  A point of return. The privilege of being local.  Having your near and dear actually be... near. We're making the shift.  

How do I feel?  Thrilled, nostalgic, apprehensive, hopeful, apathetic, intrigued, ambitious, tired, reluctant, enthusiastic, positive, anxious, energized, optimistic.


Lucky there's no cap on emotions.  

'You're outta here kid.  You've had one too many.'

But the sign on the door didn't say I couldn't mix.  No surgeon general warned me five a day's okay, but fifty's overindulgence.  We are back in the Land of Plenty.

Fortunate then, to be welcomed back to Plenty with plentiful tunes from those cool cats striving to keep Austin weird. Tip of the hat to you, SXSW, for easing the entry with closed eyes, local brews, and rhythms that won their conquest for my [e]motion.  Good people, good music, good to be back.

[Sorry no camera has accompanied the journey to our new land of my youth, but the phone tries, it tries.]

One for the road from my favorites of the weekend, Leftover Cuties.  Swoon over that so musically swoonable trumpeting accordionist with me.

- xx

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