Ten Months of Solitude

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about Indiana. Fondly. I know, what the hell, right? First, I allow meat back into my diet, and now I look forward to coming back to the States, not to resume living in what I used to call home, the City of New York, but in Indiana, the home I, to mince no words, practically rejected.

Well, loneliness will do funny things to you. It'll change you and sometimes, maybe, for the better. I think when I look back on Colombia, I'll think of it as the year where I learned to really, for the first time, enjoy my own company. I'm not sure I could say I did before living here. It's not because I've never really felt alone, but it's always been a faint hum in the background, and here I've had not choice but to face it directly. I've had to look at who I am, what I think, what I do, how I react to things, what is actually making me tick instead of letting it get lost in the noise or distraction of other people. What I like I am learning to let myself feel proud about, and what I don't like I'm learning to change or accept.

So, why am I, dare I even say, longing for Indiana? Well, for the sucktastic place Indianapolis used to be, it's actually developed a bit in the ten years I've been away. I'm not sure if it's gone so far to become a place I want to stay in forever, but the city in and of itself is now bearable for the four months I plan to be there. But in addition to general urban development, what makes it attractive these days are some of the people I've gotten to know. By and large, Indiana is full of people who are, for lack of a better word, simple. I don't mean that they're stupid at all. Indiana is full of engineers and pharmacists, thanks to Purdue. I mean, their needs are simple; their lives are simple. They were born there, they live there, they occasionally vacation in Florida, and they will probably die there. And for the people who are made happy by all that, bless you because if I didn't demand so much from life, I would probably be happier person too. However, it can sometimes lead to a certain sense of insularity. There's something very important about coming into contact with people from other cultures on a regular basis, and I'll always be thankful for New York and my line of work for affording me those experiences. But not everyone is like that. Among these people are some really stellar ones, some that I knew growing up and others that I met after I had already moved away. And when a Facebook message from a friend or family member asking me "why aren't you home yet?!" or telling me "I'm excited for when you come back!" prompts a bit of reverie about the kind of life I'll live there, I think about them, along with an easier job market, a lower cost of living, and all the while having some nice things on the horizon (Europe!... Hopefully!). It's nice to feel wanted somewhere, and in Colombia, if I ever feel wanted, it's only to be used as a resource.

Um, well, we're in Colombia,
 and we're not at the university and I'm not working, so.... no.

But I need to break this habit of fantasizing about far away places, regardless of whether that far away place is the United States or some other country. For as great as it'll all be, I'll get there when I get there, and for now, I'm here, which really isn't that bad. Living in the future doesn't do much to make the present any more agreeable. I've felt a certain desire to give in and keep my head down, grinning and bearing it for the next four months (wow... so little time, really), but I know that this is only going to lead to more misery. Fantasizing about a life that I'm not living will bring only more mental anguish, particularly because who knows how it will really be when I get back. I feel very much like a man without a country, to steal a bit of Vonnegut, and that tends to make me a bit displeased living anywhere in the world. I know this, and I've accepted it. It's why I often finish a rant about a recent Colombian annoyance with "but I'm actually fine." I get grumpy and complain. It's part of who I am and how I do things. By giving into my nature but keeping in mind what it is, I find harmony with myself and therefore not necessarily happiness but a kind of peace. What doesn't give me an iota of peace is trying to pretend that's not who I am and that everything is all smiles and sunshine and "culture shock? what's that? haha, winky face, exclamation point." It's a lie to myself and to the people around me, and I've only ever wanted be truthful with you all.