It’s been so long since the words have flowed freely. I want to say I’ve been taking a break but that implies an intentionality that's long since escaped me. I've been waiting for cracks in the dam to form--hoping some idea would come to mind, that something would happen that I just couldn't keep to myself--but if it was inspiration I was after, it would have struck by now. It's time to start pulling levers and seeing if I can get a spillway open. As for my thesis statement; I am going to write something.
I suppose I’ve been on the cusp of a major life change for a long while now. I don’t know what the next stage holds for me nor what I have to do to make that step but I can see the stairs. This change will involve either leaving Vancouver or finally making the decision to stay. I've been in a purgatory of my own making for some time. At this very moment, I’m on a flight to Paris to see one of my close friends compete in the Olympics. Insane.
YVR-YUL-CDG
I’m so tired of talking about potential and how “the bones are there.” I'm tired of talking about how it's multicultural on paper but culturally segregated in practice. I'm tired of seeing lifeless streets, tired of the rent hikes, tired of waiting for the summer to come around to have fun again. Tired of people who offer nothing to the city but a pulse--maybe--complain about all the same things I do. I'm tired and frustrated and annoyed and strangely hopeful.
Maybe,
vaguely,
in a way,
finally it feels like Vacouver is the place to be--at least that it could be and if the entire lower mainland needs to be dragged kicking and screaming towards what should be, that’s fine. I brought earplugs.
At least, that’s how I felt at the start of summer.
Hosting a gathering shouldn't be some rare occurrence taken on by only those with the strongest of wills. All it takes is sending out a few invites and accepting a little inconvenience in your life. I promise, it's not pulling excalibur from the rock. Maybe, tidy up a bit and then you've done it! I say, "maybe," because you could just ask people to meet in the park rather than being upset someone else hasn't asked you.
My photoshoots are just hangs with a theme and a couple cameras. Zach smokes a brisket and invites a bunch of people who should--but likely won’t--bring a side. Rammie says "Come Spin," and has been bringing excitement back to music. Tag washes the pinnies before riding Zach’s scooter to Sunset Beach every Monday. None of these now regular highlights of Vancouver life are particularly difficult to create unless you’re the only ones doing it. Unless all you ask of people is to show up vaguely on time and they can’t even manage that.
Somehow, the fate Vancouver teeters on a precipice. If all the people I'm surrounded by keep pushing, the culture might finally be able to embrace the diversity the demographics imply. The right backing could defibrillate the wavering pulse
of the city. Then I wouldn't need to caveat my positive review of the city with "for a week or two." Examples of art, food, night life, and third places all exist already but only in flashes. If this generation could get the keys to the city and have regular access to spaces with less financial burden then everything we're all hoping for could be fixtures rather than exceptions. At the same time, I can't help but think I could get the same results with much less work elsewere.
Paris-Orly to Brandenburg
From Paris, it’s off to Berlin to see German Chris. I’m looking forward to slowing my life down. No mayoral duties, nobody needing me to solve problems like I've been building subways my whole life, no bills, no-one to support or introduce or coax out of their shells. I’m looking forward to taking care of myself, looking forward to sleeping in, napping, reading in the park, to aimless wandering and looking forward to feeling lost again.
This is year has been the first prolonged period I’ve enjoyed being in Vancouver. Deepening all of these young friendships with like-minded people has been profoundly fulfilling. It’s only now as I write this that I realize how special it is to have this haphazardly assembled group of friends I’ve known for maybe a year or two. We've taken a few trips out of the group chat, celebrated a few birthdays, seen a couple breakups and submitted a number of life-saving background checks. Dare I say, I am even optimistic--though, only just--that this summer is a precursor of things to come. I keep saying it because I’m stunned.
I'm stunned,
but also conflicted.
My weeks in Berlin were spent exactly as planned; existing out of community. I stumbled across a few parties, chatted my way on to the decks at a club, went to art galleries, partook in many a late night bike ride and pondered as I walked and walked until my bed called. For the most part I showed up alone and left alone but never lonely. My life always leaves me lots to think about.
I think about my life all the time. I worry I’m not doing enough. Maybe I'm doing too much in the wrong place. I try to picture where I want to be in five years. I think about who will still be in my life at that point. It really bothers me how much time I spend at work or recovering from it.
The day before resuming work someone said "here comes exhausted Femi," so now I'm thinking about that.
I worry about becoming my miserable coworkers. I try to understand what a work life balance is to me. How much is enough money? What won't I do for it? How do I keep the money out of my reach of my impulses? Do I really have anything to complain about? People talk about me succeeding in whatever it is I put my mind to like it's fate, a foregone conclusion. I know weight of expectation is internal but how could I not expect the world of myself? I think often of an excerpt from the James Baldwin poem, The Giver (For Berdis).
"If the hope of giving
is to love the living,
the giver risks madness
in the act of giving."
Maybe that's why I make friends easily--when I'm inclined to make friends, at least. I found my own little niche in the city and I left feeling like noone could have shown me what I saw. I left feeling quite certain my charm is international.
Leaving life behind in Vancouver also taught me that it was silly to expect someone I was seeing not to sleep with what I thought was a friend. After all, it was five whole weeks, I was completely in contact and there are only 2.643 million in the general area. On the bright side, I'm really getting a return on the investment I made in therapy all those years ago.
What is this? A flashback episode?
I went to Belize last Christmas. Going home is always a grounding experience but now, as a man, on my own dollar, set the stage for important conversations. Entering my mid-twenties has come with an evolution of my relationship with my father (and pre-frontal cortex). While he’ll always be my parent, his authority over my life is gone. I could see that he was content--not just content, but also joyful, focused, fulfilled. I can't say how differently he felt five, ten, fifteen or twenty-five years ago but this was certainly my first time consciously recognizing it. With the weight of that in mind, it was easier to listen and learn from the lessons he had lived through. Re-personfication through de-parentification.
There were three conversations that stuck with me from that trip:
The first began with my Dad recognizing the conflict I've always had with my life. This came a few hours before sunrise while we sipped on our final Cuba Libres of the night, refreshed by the light ocean breeze sneaking it's way onto the veranda. You could hear the faintest sound of waves crawling up the sandy beach and rolling back into the black sea. The dim light of street lamps illuminating the town bolstered by a generous scattering of stars in the sky. I remember pondering that the four years prior had been the longest I'd ever been away from home and I felt like a familiar tourist more than a returning local. He said something along the lines of "I think you'll find problems where-ever you end up." While true and far from groundbreaking, it's been stuck in my head since. I've never been anywhere that felt entirely like home. I've always felt like a unfinished puzzle forcing myself into a square peg. I feel even more strange in Belize than I do here--that's in spite of how I'm treated when I'm there and just another part of this long life battle with myself. I started writing this paragraph in London. I had a good time there. Had another important conversation with my uncle, met some cool people and wandered the streets til I got tired of it. I'm finishing this paragraph in Berlin. It's the mid point of my 6 week Euro trip. The novelty has worn off and I still like it but it would be dishonest to say the sparks are flying. I've made a couple friends and I appreciate the willingness to invite a bunch of strangers out and see what happens (because that's my thing). I really, really, really like that the streets are full. People hanging out in front of the *Spatis. People in the parks at all hours. Stores with somewhat legitimate businesses inside them. Even a listening bar playing early Reggae vinyls.
The romance is here but it could only ever go as far as to be a fling. Moving here would be a stepping stone. On one hand, I'd like to find out where I'm stepping to and skip the intermediate level. On the other hand, I could have a fun couple years here. I don't mean to imply any finality with my words so let me say, for now, I'm unconvinced by Berlin specifically and Europe generally. I met so many diasporic people that wanted to leave: unsure to where, a little uncertain why, unsure when but clear there was somewhere else to go. Flings are fun but inherently more fantasy than fulfillment. I suppose finding out what I want my life to look like will make it easier to choose somewhere to go. This is all compounded by the whole survivours' guilt complex I wrote about here*. Belize is always a conflicting option.
Perhaps the search for belonging is chasing a dragon. Good enough can be good enough if you let it.
The second conversation was more of an affirmation. By the end of my trip, my father and I had spent a week drinking late into the night, coming home, and speaking until the first hint of blue light would light up the horizon. It was easy for me seeing as I was on vacation and when it's hot, I sleep like a bear in hibernation. Then I saw my drinking buddy doing what I do. Up late and up early.
"You never stop giving up sleep." He said.
And I knew exactly what he meant. This whole "Mayor" thing came about because I'm everywhere and at everything. Always busy but never is that an excuse not to show up for someone. Then it's all "where do you find the energy?" The answer is I just leave the house without it and hope it comes to me by the time I've parked. Why? Because it's important. If you're serious about community building then there comes a point when you understand that some personal sacrifices must happen. Just be tired at work. I'd rather that than look back on my youth wishing I'd made more time to live.
The final conversation, I had with the cousin I spent the most time with growing up. I can't get into any details but know that he has the same drive, same ambition, and same unquenchable thirst for life as I do. But he has much heavier expectations with more pressing implications. I saw a glimpse of my life had I not had the opportunity to move here and again, I know weight of expectation is internal but how could I not expect the world of myself.
Living Large
I'm very rusty and can't think of anything else so I'll end this piece here. Life is good: I work a bit more than I’d like to but I earn a comfortable living (as long as I don’t roll my ankle) and the jobby-job is just mentally stimulating enough, for now, that I won't burn out. Is it what I want to do for the rest of my life? Not even remotely but it is pretty cool knowing how to operate an escavator and build scaffolding. I'm working on the exit plan. Top of the agenda is finding something that nets me similar money with more fulfillment--and a lower risk of silicosis. My goals for this trip were to rest, not make any plans for when I get back, DJ somewhere, and finishing this meandering draft. ont top of all that, I've enjoyed myself. With my missions accomplished I can look forward to getting back to Vancouver. I should be taking my art more seriously. It's time to revisit my drafts. I have a photobook to finish, film to scan, 3 shoots to plan and two to reshoot. There's no reason I shouldn't be visiting my own exhibitions in my own city. I have the story, I have the talent, I have work already produced. The only thing stopping me is avoiding the frustration of putting it all together disturbing the peace of curators until they also run out of excuses to not display my work. I've had a half of a poetry book sitting in a Google Doc for the better part of a year. I forgot I have a completed short film script and accompanying shotlist in the vault. The city does, in fact, need me--at the very least to build that subway.
Life is very good but I miss a bit of the anger I had when it wasn't.
Notes for next time
-money and work
-Friendships and masculinity
-Mental health and healing
-Ends meet and potential
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