Texas

Subletting is complicated.

Living your life your own way, no matter how closely you stick to the rules as they are written on paper, is complicated.

It's all complicated.

People will tell you to follow your dream and be true to yourself - that's all well and good and it feels good to do it but what they don't tell you is that once you actually manage to do it, things will not get any simpler.

I'm happy to be in Austin. I have a sublet that has lots of natural light in a neighborhood that seems to be about as convenient as it can be but there are still wrinkles to be ironed out, time lost to complications, adjustments to make - this phase of life with its distinct patterns of melancholy is different from the last but there are still patterns of melancholy and still the big questions of life to be wrestled with. I tend to forget that when I am striving to get somewhere or something.

I'm in a starbucks in Austin waiting for my electricity to be hooked up because the guy from whom I am subletting had it all turned off - this will cause me problems the next time I want to cross the border. More problems. It will make the way harder and he did it without a second thought, he did it without mentioning his intention of doing it to me - there is always some complication to make things hard, even when you think you've gotten what you wanted.

The internet will come back on Friday, the gas? Well, I haven't dealt with that yet so it's anyone's guess. Water and electric I fixed today at a premium and of course this means my bank account is taking a hit every time I turn around.

The apartment itself is alright. It has a lot of windows and yet still seems to manage to suffer from whiffs of that overheated cheerlessness so characteristic of Austin. One must choose carefully in these things and one must always remember why you've come here.

Gearing up to write again - that's hard too. Voice changes by context, it just does. I haven't exactly found my voice here. It'll take a while writing crap like this to get there.

Walking makes me a bit of a freak here. Fact is, I can't lead this double life and afford a car. Another fact is, I need a car here. Of course that raises the question, would it be easier or harder to cross the border by car?

The fact that I have come and gone three times now makes no difference to the border people, they do not deal in logic. One must always bear that in mind.

Today someone suggested many Mexican ex-pats choose to fly to Canada and then cross into the states from the northern border because it's easier - well, it's not easier and they treat everyone as though they are trying to do something nefarious even if, like me, you're not.

So every action I take has an element of performance - always wondering how it will be perceived by the border guards. As though they were spending all their time tracking me, one little insignificant woman from Canada. It's egotistical paranoia but they reinforce it every time I cross so it's hard to lose.

At any rate, I'm a writer now - for real and for true so I suppose I should be spending my time writing and not worrying away like some demented terrier at all of these peripheral issues.

I'm in Texas. Expect things to change.

Connecticut Evening

It's a lovely, early evening here. Birds and crickets are singing, the butterflies are having their evening meal. It's peaceful and lovely, everything life should be and missing only one thing, or person. Everything in its time, I suppose. Here are some pictures I took this morning.