I digress. I have a habit of losing myself. Depending on what it is, it could be anywhere from 10 minutes to several years:
On Friday, I left work to head to happy hour with a few coworkers. From there, three or four followed us to our home neighborhood--Fell's Point. After a night out on the square, I fell asleep to the never-gentle, always-abrupt slumber courtesy of several shots of tequila and more than enough beer. Saturday, I woke up the next morning to an iPhone reminder that today I was floating down with two awesome friends for the Annapolis Arts, Crafts and... you guessed it, Wine Festival. The wine was good, but the art was spectacular. We spent the entire afternoon shifting booth to booth, talking to the artists about their mediums, inspiration, logistics and all-around dirty work to put together these beautiful displays and pieces. I met Mulinde from Uganda, who was selling photographs of beautiful dances from his home-country. He was also selling some art he had picked up while at home, I bought a bowl and a bracelet, pictured below.
After the arts festival, we watched the US/Nigeria friendly and animatedly discussed the state of marriage equality in the country. A friend who had come out the night before wanted me to meet his girlfriend's daughters, so I headed over to their place for drinks, games, and falling asleep to the lull of two small voices asking their mom if I were dead.
Sunday, I was treated to breakfast at Eggspectation, with two cuties in tow, and ended up coming home that afternoon. My roommate had some friends over, so we sat out on the stoop and shared some beer with our neighbor. My first time getting to know the guy, and what a guy he was! A life story of interest, a computer geek for the marines (handsome, at that) and well-versed in cultural relativity, human rights, and that the Jazz Festival is happening in Federal Hill right now. Alas, I accepted his invitation to bike over graciously, we met up with his lawyer friend and ate, drank and danced the night away. A late night water and a plate of hash browns graced my Sunday (or should I say Monday?) to a close. It was quite a nomadic weekend for one that was totally unplanned.
The interesting thing about losing yourself for such long periods of time, is that you aren't yourself that whole time. Faced with an "other" that seems to take over your conscience, whether that be a book, old friends, or otherwise, one can really traipse through life unawares. It does seem a bit melancholic though, if I phrase it like that.
I think this what I fear most. That perhaps I am afraid to be inactive, focused on nothing, not on a phone, nor in a book, nor in conversation, nor perceiving and reacting 100% of the time, because being totally alone is really scary.
The last time I remember allowing myself to be totally alone for any long period of time was the summer after my sophomore year of college. No friends had been left in town, and I was working a job aimed at complete solitude: watching an empty computer lab. I made dinner by myself each night, and would eat at the table, and just be. Sometimes I'd walk out on the porch and sit to feel the breeze in the hot summer night air. I'd lie on the floor in the living room and watch the fan go by. I'd get up and go on runs past cornfields, the sounds of small insects and my feet on the pavement. I'd come home and pretend I was a triathlete; jumping right onto my bike and ending the ride at the empty pool. I'd throw my shirt, socks and sneakers off and swim a few laps in my sports bra and shorts.
Since then, I've filled my life. Filled it to the brim. I'm far less at ease than I once was, more stressed, more beer, more negativity. I think Abraham Lincoln once said something like "the best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time."
I think, perhaps, my future, or tomorrow, will be different.
Goodnight, Baltimore. Dream sweetly, internet.
