Thursday, May 13, 2010

Hmmm.

So, my first post. 50 days until I am en route to Christchurch. It seems I've started this blog a bit early. eh?

I find myself thinking a lot about what America means to me as I prepare to retreat and relocate to paradise. I was reading a list of all the people who have forfeited (not sure if this is the right word here) their citizenship in favor of their new homelands (Terry Gilliam, etc) and it's making me wonder whether I'll ever be in a similar situation. Would I do it? Abandon all that I know to be swallowed up by a country and culture I know little of? It seems a bit of a hip move, actually. Like, it's the new "moving to Canada." I wonder what would happen if I did. Could I go back and change my mind? Would I have to get a Visa to return to my country of origin? Odd.

So, America. My land? Not quite. Hate? Strong word. Love? Even stronger. Will I miss you? Most likely. When I think about America I see dizzying images of Double Downs and double wides and Nascar beer coozies balanced on the handles of folding lawn chairs or protruding guts. Cliche as it is, it's actually closer to my own world than I would readily admit.

I also think of steamy nights with fireworks and running through sprinklers and loving myself as I disappear into the fickle embrace of the night. Lately, though, I recall waking up in the harsh light of a morning that does not welcome me. I feel trapped and at a loss most days, as I lay in bed and dreamily imagine how my life will be in New Zealand. I hope you will join me in my vigorous and desperate and hungry and invigorating pursuit of a new reality.