Cafe Hitch-hike

2019-06-18

Seeing both sides and versions

I was going to walk Marley on the edge of the neighboring tree farm, but I saw some dark clouds move in. We turned around about a quarter through our walk, but she didn't seem to mind. She hopped over the high grass that probably tickled (or irritated) her belly, which is a by-product of the rain we've been getting. I thought I'd enjoy a somewhat humid but not steamy evening on the patio while I still can.

I had to take a serious break over the past 3 days. I didn't realize I was getting exhausted. Even when I had more energy, I still would get either overstimulated or just beat when the pace picked up an awful lot. Two weekend trips to Michigan and the brief but octane-burning romp with the Canadian Mexican would had fried anyone over the course of a month. Yeah, I'm still gnawing on things I captured from heading to the hometown. When it gets too much, I let my mind rest in the embrace of the hometown's canopy of maple trees on its hilly streets and neighborhoods.

I'd say a few things about work, but that all feels rather futile. I don't feel like getting my wheels spinning over that. I have too much other shit to do.

Instead of deciding to start all over and redecorate my new place from scratch, I decided to put my old stuff back up. I had this idea of 'new digs, new decor,' but I really wasn't feelin' it. I was terrified of putting holes in the wall from mounting pics, at first, and wanted perfect, but then I realized how much I missed my Picasso Guitar and Violin print when I unwrapped it and felt like I had seen an old friend. The same went for my Brazilian flute player resin figurine, and other things I used to have in my abode. My living room now has just about all of the stuff I used to have in the Cannabis Condo.

Speaking of Cannabis Condo, I then realized I had a weird time moving into my new place because I felt rather homesick. The CC was mine for 4 years, and the longest place I had ever lived in one unit. I've gushed about its locale on these pages, and I realized I missed it. I really liked that side of town! The Canadian Mexican lived a mile away from there and I never had a problem with going to his place; it totally rocked the casbah and I'm sure a part of it was its location.

I recalled what I didn't like about the former abode over the weekend when I described its neighborhood panhandlers, homeless camp in the grove of trees about 300 miles away from my steps, the addicts, and the frequent robberies that took place within a mile radius. Hell, I heard of a few that took place in the Cannabis Cove parking lot and was aware of the constant drug deals, 6 residents dwelling in a 2-bedroom unit, and people who didn't have much regard for keeping up the surroundings. One significant reason I left was the safety and the other was so I'd live in an area with a good school district if I decided to adopt (and it would also help with resale value... that's America where the quality of education is largely determined by where one lives). At least I was able to put both things in perspective, and can start really settling into my place and fully make it mine.

Puppy Dog and I found some nice walking spots nearby. I located some nice happy hours, and a couple where people were super-friendly. I love looking at the (retention) pond from my patio, and that it really is peaceful here.

The messages between Jens and I continue. He sent me some clips to his music and I was afraid to listen. The Dutch language has a bit of friction in their sound and his English had a bit of that back in 1990. I was hesitant to listen, but... his voice was very melodic and his guitar was very easy on the ears. He's been working on his craft since 1999. I enjoyed listening to it, and kinda wished I knew some Dutch so I could understand the lyrics. Other than music and solo gigs, Jens has a regular job teaching at a technical school.

Jens reminded me of the video recordings he made of his stay and our high school. He said I was in them and invited me to watch with him. I cringed thinking about seeing myself from back then, with my teased, rooster-like bangs. I had a very awkward growth spurt the summer before my junior year and was still getting used to all that; my male classmates, however, seemed fine-oh-fine with all of that.

Jens was my date for our senior homecoming dance. I wore a strapless purple dress and Jens gave me a corsage with lilacs. When he picked me up, we had an audience of my siblings and some neighborhood kids. My sisters and their friends were so excited they grabbed the corsage box out of our hands and almost popped it open. The dance was held in the cafeteria of Central High, our school. What I remembered best, besides the smell of cafeteria food, was kissing on the dance floor and eventually dancing to Toni, Tone, Tony.

The night ended at his place where we sat and talked with Marc, his host parent. I was burning up. I got a slight fever because I was losing my voice and my throat was scratchy, and maybe it was because my face felt hot from all the kissing. Jens sat there with a big smile and his brown eyes squinting in bliss while Mark cheerfully carried on. I'm sure Jens has his own version of that night, and perhaps he'll share that whenever I visit him in Nijmegin. I imagine so; last summer, our classmate Benjamin shared his take on an experience with me last summer where he thought he was riding his bike to my house (in the middle of the night) but went to my grandfather's house in the 'hood instead. Once again, I get to see another version of things and also touch base if all goes well. This ought to be very interesting.

downwind | upstream