Friday, July 2, 2010

what's the word


In the book Eat Pray Love, Elizabeth says to her Italian friends that she doesn’t know if she could ever really live in Rome because she doesn’t feel like it’s her place. Her Italian friend said maybe they have different words. He continues to explain his theory that every city has a word, a word that encapsulates the entire meaning of the city and it’s existence. Every person also has a word. If your word the and the city’s word don’t go together, you don’t belong there. This sent my mind into a state of spinning and whirling that I had to stop and put the book down. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, go figure, about where I’m supposed to be. I absolutely love Natchez. Beginning in 9th grade, I counted down the days I would be able to escape. But things change and people change. Jax has grounded me, making me want to stay near my family so they can see him change from day to day. He has made me appreciate simplicity as opposed to my previous appreciation of cities that never sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I still have a deep love connection to New York City and other metropolises I haven’t had the opportunity to see yet (but I will). But for now, in this moment, I am happy where I am. In a slow, simple town with my family nearby. Because at this point in my life, that is all that matters to me.

But anyways, I began thinking about different places and what their words might be so I can try and figure out where my next move should be. And that was fun. Until I realized I have no clue what my word is. Therefore I can’t figure out what town I belong to because I don’t know what I belong to. I can think of words I would like to be. But there’s no point in being delusional or in denial when it comes to figuring out your word.

There are a few I think could work.

Unsatisfied- I’m always unsatisfied, wanting more. There are so many things and places I want to see. So many cultures I want to discover and experience. And until I get to do those things, I am unsatisfied. I wouldn’t say I’m stuck. Well maybe I am a little. But I’m not miserably stuck. I’m happy being stuck for a little bit because I love seeing my parents interact with my son. I love walking down the simple streets of downtown and seeing the same people every day. But I don’t want this forever.

Restless- Oh how I am restless. Physically and mentally. Like I’ve said before, I’m always doing something, going somewhere. I am on the road 40 percent of my life, roughly, but only because I love it. I do. I love it. And if I’m not physically moving and going, my mind is doing it for me. Always thinking, always coming up with new ideas and then driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to make that idea come to life until a couple days or a couple hours later when I get a new idea and the process repeats itself. It’s almost manic, but that’s just how I work. I’ve read some biographies about artists, poets, writers, musicians, and even renaissance men and strangely found myself less ‘odd’ and able to relate. Not saying I’m a renaissance man or woman or whatever, but some people are just… weird. Misfits I guess. And I’m a weirdo.

Searching- This pretty much explains itself. I am searching, always. For new strangers to befriend, for new experiences to later become memories, for knowledge about anything and everything, for answers about anything and everything. I was searching subconsciously for answers as to whether real love exists and whether or not marriages really can work and if I could ever actually see myself with someone to grow old with. But thanks to that really cool God who I can almost hear saying ‘I told you so’ with a sarcastic smile on His face, I have figured out those answers. But still, I have plenty of other things I am searching for.

I thought I would like for my word to be ‘content’. But then I thought about it, and I don’t want to be content. Because then I wouldn’t have the urge for more. And I like having the urge for more. I feel I can always see more, learn more. But I should listen more in order for a lot of things to fall into place. I’m a great listener when it comes to other people. But I’m horrible when it comes to hearing things about myself. I don’t want to hear it. Leave me alone. Insert (flaw) on my forehead here. I’m working on it.

But for now, my mind races yet again trying to figure out my damn word. I hope I like it.

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