Hullo

My lover tired of me I think. Return calls took longer, dates were cancelled, no real attempts were made to actually meet. I didn't really fight it, don't particularly mind. The sex was fun, but there wasn't much more to it. She was pleasant to be around but it's unlikely we'd ever have amounted to much. Besides she lived way into Brooklyn which, considering my Harlem location, might as well have been the far side of Egypt. So she's out of my life.

This happened just before I went away for Christmas. When she made no effort to meet before I left for two weeks, I decided I wouldn't be calling her when I got back. And then I went to Nigeria for two busy weeks of family activity. It was pleasant, yet trying. I love my family and we are quite close in our way. Still I am an intensely selfish and self absorbed person person who is far too fond of the solitude afforded by living alone in a country that I came to by myelf. My friends, my activities, my finances and mental space have no other real claimants when I am in New York. I am responsible for myself and myself is responsible only for me. It often feels like my real life is on hold when I go away for any period of time and this was no different.

I am no longer used to playing the role of son. The first of four, my role can be quite demanding, sometimes consuming. Living in New York allows me to breathe and have a life apart from that particular role. It is quite jarring then to go back and find that none of the expectations have changed and to live even for a short period defined primarily by that positioning. Much as I love my parents and family, I had to resist the urge to constantly inform them that I am Fred first of all and Flint only secondarily (if Fred Flint were my real name that is). My dad's role is particularly tough to deal with. An overwhelming presence, the mere mention of his name or knowledge that I am his son instantly invokes the most patronizing and fawning of responses towards me. Coming at a time when I'm trying to define myself as an adult for good, this does not in any way please me and I'm not unhappy to have escaped back to the safety of my adopted home.

I am coming up on the seventh anniversary of my move to this country. Ironic, considering the contents of the previous paragraph, that I am contemplating allowing it to be my final one. If I am ever to move back to my home country, it makes sense that I do it sooner rather than later. Whatever the pursuits that will make up my life, I must begin them in earnest soon and it continues to appear that my prospects burn brighter at home than they do here. I've spent a lot of time fighting the call home. I am more comfortable here, happier in many ways. There is much I would miss were I to go home, not all of it frivolous. I have no friends of quality at home, have never felt socially comfortable there and I would miss the kind of abstract conversation that one is only afforded in countries where the basic comforts of life are taken completely for granted. Still discomfort is frequently a good thing. I worry that I am becoming complacent here, settling in for a life of mediocracy, something that is completely unacceptable. We'll see. I have about a year to make this decision.

Something else that has been quite mediocre is my posting on this here blog. I am aware of this and I shall try to be better. I'm going to see if I can make this more of a stream of consciousness blog and drop my thoughts, whatever they might be more regularly. In analyzing some of my relationships last year, I would come here looking to remember what my thought process had been previously and find myself frustrated by the gaps in my own writings. I'd like to be more faithful this year. More to come...