The Write Thing

It is only a little after 9 pm in a rather cold spring Houston evening, and I find myself willing to return to the pages of this blog, even though my internet connection in the land of digital progress is probably among the worst anyone can have.

I landed my ship in not so foreign land almost a month ago, and I feel like I haven’t even started to move towards a life here. If you look at my house, you’ll see there is virtually no furniture, not even a much-needed closet. I sleep on an air mattress and my desk consists in a small table with four folding chairs. I have equipped my kitchen with the basics to cook myself pasta, mix a salad, bake a pizza and grill meat. The rest may probably come later, but I am content with things as they are. I was forced to buy a TV by the need to adhere to the “bundle” provision of internet and cable services in this world. I got the cheapest one, and I am not sure if I will be able to even see any images on it. But I don’t really care much about that.

I’ve had a good dose of the dark too in these past few weeks. I was burgled (although there was not much to take) and last Saturday someone smashed the side door of my car to take an old GPS that I have always relied on due to my deprivation of bearings in any form. I am still waiting to find a glass that will replace the busted one, and it seems my first lucky day in many, many weeks will be tomorrow, when the mobile glass installation service comes along.

The odds are, methinks, against me. I guess I could put all the negatives and uncertainties in my life in one big bag now and move it to the back yard…well, I might have to drag it the way it weighs now. Or I can choose to put things behind me, learn from the hidden messages of life that I can’t decypher and move on, because that is what people in this society do, and I should try to become one of them.

Maybe all these unfortunate events I am describing are a form of initiation, a form of animal test of endurance to make me or break me. I guess worse things have happened to me in life — and worse will still happen — to be wise enough to know these are just a milder form of discomfort. I am perhaps the new animal in the herd, the one that has to be gauged by the leaders to make sure it fits. And then it might all come down to where you actually pee, where your territory lies, and how good you are to claim your own little plot in there.

I may have to start following my dog’s attitude when we go for a walk to the nearest park in the neighborhood. There are only a few plants he spares, but there’s always a favorite spot, the one someone else already trod, where there is still room for him to test his courage.

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