Bear with me, I just need to cough up some e-bile:
Right now I'm trying to decide where I want to live, which has brought up a whole host of reflections that I (somehow) feel the need to parse through. The old saying goes: "You can never go home again". I'd assert that you were never there in the first place.
I'm getting ready to head back there for a few weeks - Hell, I could viably stay until March and few people out here in DC would notice (or care). The thing that kills me is that when I'm back home I still feel on edge. There are wide array of good reasons why I left Illinois all those years ago, and doing so has worked out for the best. Now I truly enjoy going back to IL; as soon as I get back I feel back in my element (unfortunately, my element seems to be #84), yet I still feel out of sorts back in my old stomping grounds.
I think my problem is that I crave anonymity, but find myself in places where I'm well known - That's my own damned fault. I just wish I could go into any bar without random strangers coming up to me to parse politics, or attempt to avenge some half-remembered past indiscretion. Fuck 'em - they always lose, but still, it's getting real fucking old. If I had half of a working brain I'd just go to a new city and lie my ass off like everyone else does. Create a completely new identity and back-story. Problem is, I've lived a life that's more interesting than any plausible story that I could ever fabricate, and I'm not the type to downplay anything.
Back in the day, I'd always say that the worst thing that could ever happen to a person was to become a caricature of themselves. Sometimes I worry that I've crossed that line, and sometimes I think that I should just go further. If everyone seems to think they know who I am, I should give 'em the whole grit your teeth - shit your pants - pray to Christ experience. I'm in the driver's seat and Bourbon is my co-pilot, so any motherfuckers around should just strap down, shut up, and get bulletproof real quick. That's one way to do it.
I may end up coming back to IL for the long-haul sometime this Spring. I fucking hate DC like poor kids hate ketchup-soup and hungry rats. It's always seemed like the expansion-trailer classroom in the schoolyard of America - shoddy, filthy, uncomfortable, and one stiff wind away from going ass-over-tits. I want out of this shithole like unwanted kittens want outta wet burlap, but where to go; Home, or another city that I'll grow to loathe? For once, I don't have the answer.
Well, (in summation) either I'm fucked regardless, or just typing drunk again. Your call is as good as mine.