Hipness Relocation Program

Well, friends, I have officially left the ‘Burg.  I’m now living in Henrico County with my parents, where I will probably stay until after my comps in December.  (Richmond peeps, do you know of any great apartments in the area?  )

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Last night I attended a concert by Glennroy Bailey & Company @ the Dogwood Dell.  By myself.  Doesn’t sound like me, does it?  Not really.  But I wanted to do something not moving-related.  And I wanted to re-kickstart my program of bold steps that I started last spring.  I don’t think I’ve given them much thought since last summer, and that fact has really manifested itself in the strong stuck feeling I’ve had in past months.

While I was at the Dell, I mused a lot.  One thing I thought about was paths crossing, happenstance resulting in lasting love.  All great love starts as a result of a series of interrelated events, really.  But there is, in our culture, a fascination with idealized love relationships beginning with preordained but quirky cosmic convergence.  The message is that the best we can hope for is an astounding romance to fall from the sky and splatter into our lives.  But it’s only amusing if you focus on life like a movie.  In order for it to happen that way in real life, you have to know who this great love is the moment you meet.  It just doesn’t work like in Serendipity.

The funkiest — and not in a good way — thing about crossing paths is that you can never know, unless someone tells you or some not-so-common surveillance occurs, that you’ve just missed someone.  And we may think we want to know the maps of our new and future beloveds’ day-to-day lives.  But I suspect if we knew how many times very little, mundane things kept us apart, we’d go mad.

The same goes for wanting to know another’s thoughts.  You think you want to know if he ever thinks of you.  But what if he does?  What if he does think of you while you think of him?  If you found out about it after long months or even years of doing nothing about your amorous feelings, you’d be upset, realizing how much time you wasted.  That’s the real world ending of Sense and Sensibility, my friends?

So that’s the kind of thing that was on my mind while I enjoyed the concert.  When I first arrived I felt weird.  I’ve never been there alone and was self conscious.  But as I sat alone in my own little clearing on the more sparsely populated side of the ampitheater, I realized that I wasn’t really dorky and uncomfortable.  I was utterly cool with my sunshades and my bold and unapologetic aloneness fully on display.  I rock.

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