"Questions. Questions that need answering."

I really wish I had something to write about. A review of posts from the past couple of months more or less sums up my life in the present: uninspired, bored, lonely, and quickly losing hope. I really don't care to write about such thoughts, but I'm not sure where else I can express myself.

It's a quandary I face in the present: share my thoughts openly or sit still and brew.

I had a tough day at work. Nothing horribly bad, but bad enough that I'm really questioning what the heck I'm doing here. I've been working on a edited volume for some time and I seem to have dug myself into a hole that I just can't escape.

For some time now my co-editor and I have been contacting publishers trying to find a match for our project. The book is a collection of essays loosely based on the work of a famous cultural geographer. Throughout the process, my project partner and I have sought advise from this elder academic. After the latest round of rejection letters, I contacted him again seeking advise. Today, I received an e-mail from him with loads of advice leaving me to ponder, "Why didn't he share this before?!"

I've given this project top priority putting several of my own projects on the backburner since this collection not only impacts me, but 13 others. It's been a lot of work capped off with two sessions I organized for the national meeting last year. But like I said, this e-mail today really left me frustrated. Long story short, I will most likely have to pull the plug on this project.

I can't think of one thing that I've put any effort into of recent that has gone well. I am so frustrated with my current status that I'm about to burst. I really could use a break and have absolutely no idea where to begin.

ugh.

On Weekend Commutes...

This past weekend I visited a new coffee house in Denver. I've been making the 2 hour trip on weekends to take in a couple of church services (Saturday night and Sunday morning) as well as to enjoy some fellowship. It's become a routine of sorts, one that I will likely continue through the remainder of the academic year. The reason for the commute is quite simple: my life in Laramie has become something to escape when I can.

We tend to idealize the individual in solitude in this country. The image of a lone, rugged cowboy riding his horse is romanticized as being the all-American male role model. Someone who can get by on his own and doesn't allow the worries of life to weigh him down is something we're taught to strive to become.

Don't get me wrong, I do believe there is a place for silence and solitude. But what we tend to forget is that too much of this, too much time away from family and friends, leaves a person feeling empty and deprived. It concerns me that my life is beginning to resemble that of someone left alone for too long.

This past Sunday, I didn't want to leave the comfort of the coffee house. It should be noted that I was there with a friend and it makes a big difference when you can turn around and ask a question or comment on a football score. I don't have this in Laramie. I often go days without a 5 minute face-to-face conversation and it has begun to wear on me.

I believe in being proactive, but I also believe in building local community. The Sunday school class I was a part of last year was a very good one; I was incredibly grateful for the group. But most in the group were 20 to 30 years older than me (if not more). Building relationships outside of the Sunday school hour really wasn't practical. There are singles in Laramie, but not many who are my age. I know of only one other single male in his 30s here in Laramie. He's not a Believer, which is fine, but his lifestyle is one to avoid (allow your mind to wonder). My other friends are married couples most of whom have children. Finding time to spend together does not come easily.

I'm struggling with this--the decision of whether to build and partake in community two hours away from home or to stick it out in Laramie. And I'm open to suggestions.

09-09-09

Today is my day! 09-09-09!!!

To add to my love of the number 9, last night I was looking over the Avs roster and it just so happens that Matt Duchene, Colorado's first round pick this year, will be wearing #9.

GO AVS!!!

"Homeless"

The best concert I have ever seen, hands down, was Ladysmith Black Mambazo. I've seen a number of concerts over the years, some much more memorable than others, but this one really stands out. I remember it took more than a week before I could listen to regular music again. During this period, I felt compelled to listen to classical music so as not to spoil the rare piece of art I had been privileged to be present for.

It really was that good.

Most people don't know Ladysmith Black Mambazo by name, but many are familiar with their work. The South African group lent their voices to Paul Simon's Graceland album. They sang backup on a number of the songs including 'Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes' and 'Homeless'.

It's the latter song, a song they performed that cool fall night some ten years ago, that is the topic of this post. You see, after all my travels and adventures, it is only now that I find myself homeless.

Last week, after 25 years of living in the same residence, my mother sold the family home. It took a friend of mine to find a word that summarized my thoughts and feelings on the subject. After enduring a prolonged and stumbling tirade in which I struggled to express myself, he turned to me and simply said "I get it. You're now 'homeless'".

This is the house I have known as home for 25 years. To be honest, it was never a house I was especially fond of. I hated my room and never did care for the look of the house. But it did have a great location. My mother and I would spend long evenings on the porch sitting in awe of the forested ridge found just across the natural drainage from our house. I also had a number of friends who lived in the neighborhood and on visits home I would trek through the forested acres to their houses long after the neighbors who resided in-between that I had known well had moved on.

These neighbors will always hold a special place in my life. Growing up in western South Dakota, our nearest extended family members were a long-days drive away. Because of this, my friends' parents became 'aunt' and 'uncle' and when one friend's grandmother moved into the neighborhood, she naturally became my 'grandma'. We were family. This was home and remained so through the years.

Having a home-base has meant a lot to me over the years. No matter where my travels took me, I could always count on coming home and visiting my extended family. There was, and is, a comfort in that. Unfortunately, this will no longer be the case. I will no longer have a place to celebrate holidays. I will no longer eat Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner and then run over to the neighbors for dessert and a football game. There will be no backdoor to walk out of, no stairs to sprint down, no field to cut across because there will be no home to visit.

This coming month will be rough when a new family moves into the old house. I'm sure many memories will come flooding back at that time. It will be tough as I will no longer have an opportunity to come home.