move back into the parents’ farmhouse (it always starts like this);
move into a little 1 or 2 bedroom apt in Buffalo proper, Allentown or Elmwood Village, likely, and kick around the community for a little while, being an entertainment/culture blogger and working a desk 9-5 somewhere (Bizarro Buffalo Me; basically a mirror image of who i am in Chicago, except add a car and seeing my parents a lot more and having more space for less money);
buying a little house w/ some land in Cambria;
moving into a Victorian house in Buffalo proper with 2-3 other aimless 30-something artist/professional types;
buying some derelict property in Buffalo proper and fixing it up and inviting 2-3 other aimless 30-something artist/professional types to move in for a little $;
moving into a farmhouse in Cambria with 2-3 other aimless 30-something artist/professional types.

obviously, there are a few themes emerging here. these themes, as well as things i know that i want for sure, play out as follows:

land. a house. to live w/ others (but quiet, comfortable others, who are on the same basic wavelength as me)
to have access to a metropolis (even a small one); to be a part of the metropolitan community.
to be a part of the agriculture community of the region.
to create something of my own, something to mark my territory in the community and to strengthen and expand my support network.

i always go back to that, “strengthen and expand my support network”. i believe it’s because, outside of my immediate family and a couple good, stable long-term friends, i don’t have that unless i will it to exist. i don’t have a significant other. i don’t have a family of my own. i have to work very hard to ensure that i put a network in place, a network that will support me in emotionally trying times, a network that helps the downward spiral from starting. a network that makes me second-guess my thoughts of, “it doesn’t matter. none of it does.” it does matter, when this network is real and tangible and exists. and it might be the thing that has honestly gotten me through these years, these sometimes long, sometimes painfully meaningless and hopeless years. because of this amazing network of people i have chosen to surround myself with, wherever i may be on any given day or year.

anyhow, that was a bit of a tangent… my dreams are starting to coalesce a little, and they’re starting to look like this:

move back to the farm for a little while;
move to [somewhere that has this] and take distillery classes and do an internship;
move back to Cambria, either into a shared housing situation, or back to the farm;
slowly build the distillery business, either on the farm or on my own land (depending on opportunity and resources as they will allow);
work a ‘regular’ job in the meantime; hang out in Buffalo w/ my artist scumbag friends when i need to revisit that life; grow things somewhere; generally be happy back here, having adventures when possible;

optional:

meet a boy who wants to do all of this, too. maybe someone who’s been away for awhile, and is coming back to the area to settle down and find something a little more whole to dedicate the rest of his life to… and maybe that something is a vodka distillery that is also a hobby vegetable/goat farm. )

it’s getting closer; as i’ve removed myself from my social routine in Chicago these last couple months, and coming to western new york for the first time in 7 months and feeling the ‘rightness’ settling into my bones, i can more clearly see this as being a tangible, not-unheard of plan that can really happen, and it’s something i need to keep remembering and hanging onto in these coming months. i feel like my tenure in Chicago is really being finalized now, and it’s only a matter of a few months more of time until this decade-long chapter is finally closed.

at this point, after too many heartaches to keep track of, and too much aimless wandering of city streets that have never been my own, it would have to be a very strong and significant energy to keep me from this future.

“Oh good, you will be retired in 5 years, so you can help me run my B&B/artist retreat/goat farm then!!! Just kidding! (or AM I!?!?!?). You can make our guests fresh asparagus omelets for breaky and I will mix them up organic bloody marys and freshly-squeezed mimosas. it will be lovely! “

This is tame compared to other missives sent in the past. And she has practical experience in the mental health field. I’m sure she thinks I’ve come completely unhinged (I wonder if she might be right; I forget “normal” people out in the world that’s not me or my friends live on an entirely different plane).

DOESN’T that sound lovely, though???

I am finally reading a book Angel passed to me, oh, a year or so ago. It was actually a book meant for both myself and my roommate at the time of receipt, but when I moved out of that apt, I snatched it. After all, she was moving in with her brand-new boyfriend and I was going through a debilitating break-up, alone again for the first time in a few years. The book: Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant. Some excerpts from the introduction that resonated with me:

…”Reflexively, you open the refrigerator and nod at the condiments, grab the hot sauce, and close the others back into cold darkness. Bottle of sauce in hand, you gaze around the room, inspecting the contents of the cabinets, the pile of paper menus from nearby restaurants, the spines of your cookbooks. You turn from the bookshelf and catch a glimpse of yourself in the window. In the heat, your hair has puffed wildly. You experience one of those weird lost minutes inside your head. Loneliness, you think, loneliness with its lyrical sound; you look like a lone lioness…”

…”He was right, of course. Being alone–battling loneliness–was something at which I had always felt it was important to improve. Taking solitude in stride was a sign of strength and of willingness to take care of myself. This meant–among other things–working productively, remembering to leave the house, and eating well…”

…”Because cooks love the social aspect of food, cooking for one is intrinsically interesting. A good meal is like a present, and it can feel goofy, at best, to give yourself a present. On the other hand, there is something life affirming in taking the trouble to feed yourself well, or even decently. Cooking for yourself allows you to be strange or decadent or both…In the end, the experimentation, the impulsiveness, and the invention that such conditions allow for will probably make you a better cook.”

And this is just from the intro. I’m definitely looking forward to visiting with others who live the solo life and who enjoy home-concocted, healthy, interesting, GOOD, food.

As for myself, for most of my adult life I have been in the company of others, whether they were significant others or roommates or family. I have always took pleasure in nurturing these people with food. I never professed to be some expert at cooking, but I tried to always use whole foods and keep the calories and fat low and the satisfaction high.

Only twice as an adult have I lived alone (now being one of those times). I often find myself in the predicament of wanting to feed myself quickly, healthily, and cheaply, but not wanting to go through the big production of picking up a bunch of specialty ingredients, or following an onerous recipe, just to “wow” myself, as it were. I’ve concocted plenty of stir-frys and casseroles, sauteed fish w/a  side of sauteed veggies (whatever looked good in the produce section that evening or the weekend prior), and lately, quick-simmered chilis (and I’m getting hella good at them… at least *I* think so… not that anyone else has tried them). Of course, standard stand-bys remain tacos and sandwiches. Basically, any dish that combines veggies, protein, dairy, and a small amount of carbs in one bite, is a solo specialty of mine. Oh, and eggs. Always eggs. I once attempted (successfully!) to poach eggs for myself, and, while they were perfect and delicious, I never did it again. Too much production and presentation to just give…myself.

*The above pic illustrates tonight’s (and last night’s) dinner: “gourmet” grilled cheese (dill havarti and colby jack cheeses, w/ a schmear of cream cheese and a few slices of tomato on provincial-style bread, in addition to a cup of Lipton soup (not pictured). The bananas I hope to concoct into something for the Thanksgiving gumbo-and-crawfish feast my pal Chad is throwing for us orphans tomorrow, and the wine I will be getting into tonight (alone, and just because). And yeah, I DID eat the remaining noodles of the soup directly out of the pan while watching the thrilling conclusion of this week’s “Without a Trace”.

haven’t been on a date w/ someone unknown in a long, long time. when you can just do anything, and be any way you want, and see what pans out. maybe you make a date to go to the Art Institute after work (because it’s free and easy), and maybe you worry, “is this other person super into looking at art, or just looking for a small urban adventure?” knowing, just knowing you’re the type of person to look at art, semi-sincerely, but knowing you will eventually make a smart-ass quip about the misshapen canvas hung askew on the wall and called “a comment on skin”, but then your date makes a quip, a biting, hilarious quip, much earlier in the traipsing of the new Modern Wing (you’ve already been inside, before it was open to the public, and even met Judy Blume there in an elevator and shared a smile)… maybe your date goes quite well, after you spend an hour being sincere about art and then busting out in hushed giggles, and then being awed into silence, again.

it feels like the age of letting energies in, and then right back out, and then new energies in… and some stick, and some leave, but most will be around for awhile. i feel like i’ve been in and out of love 1,000 times in just this year alone. i keep willing them to stick… but they do leave. and i continue to come upon new energies, each and every time. i’m still your hardcore CHI OG howeva, don’t eva get me wrong.

the opening narrator was a poor choice to start this out, IMO, due to the sickly raspiness of her voice. however, that only continues for a short time before other narrators take over. give it a look. that’s my home. something pretty big has to happen for me to stay away too much longer. i mean, IDEALLY i would have a job that afforded me and required me to be in CHI for a week, in LA for a week, in ATL or Austin or Detroit or something for a week, and then back to BUF for a couple weeks, and so on… not sure something like that exists, but i’ll certainly look for it. i could easily live in a tri-city holding pattern for at least several more years. i do love both CHI and LA so much, but. i love Buffalo the most. and it’s simply been too long, and i’m completely, and UTTERLY, burned out w/ the pattern my life has taken these last five years. i’m really excited at the idea of spending some of my better adult years in the city, before ultimately settling down in my artist retreat/goat farm/whiskey distillery. plans are being made and actions are being taken…

but of course, if something BIG happens in between now and then, i’m always open to modification of said plans…

i have a Master Plan coming together. i don’t want to speak too much about it in public (or even to other people), but it *might* be related to this little news blurb.

total catharsis tonight.

3+ hours of dancing and sweating w/ 4,000 strangers. my feet couldn’t stop.

“i can change, i can change, i can change, i can change.” sing that at the top of your lungs over and over and over for ten minutes w/ 4,000 other broken people. you will smile.