February 26, 2012

Call me sentimental.

I spent the last few days in Calgary. The last time I was in a similar circumstance was November 2009, and the whole go-to-Calgary-and-pretend-you’re-not-still-choked-you-don’t-live-there-anymore thing crushed my soul. Or something to that effect, preferably with an overdose of drama attached. That being said, this time I wasn’t facing a failed marriage and the wish I’d never left Calgary in 2007 in the first place, since that officially marked the time I fucked my life up for good.
This time, I went back with the acknowledgement that I already tried going back there in an effort to retrace my steps and rebuild the life I’d left behind in 2007. Obviously, considering the fact I once again call the greater-Cologne region home (though, frankly, it’s the place I’d be least likely to call home out of anywhere I’ve ever put down roots), things didn’t work out when I’d tried the whole Calgary-thing again.

But, I mean, you know that already.

My thoughts?

When I first got there and was being chauffeured around the city (rental cars are expensive, you know), I started feeling that nagging twitch that tells me, “This is your home! Why are you in Germany?! You love it here!”

I let it ride out the first day. Lunch in Eau Claire? All I did was look at random business people in business suits, who were just nipping out on lunch break, and think, “Huh. I wish I was here doing a business lunch with one of those stupid notebooks in my hand, rather than just be a visitor on the outside looking in.”

I think that when you’re gone from your home, you romanticize everything. The grass is always greener. I can pretend to myself that I don’t really dislike Eau Claire in the first place, and the time spent sitting in traffic on Bow Trail is an enjoyable time to view progress on the C-Train line, not a destructive force in my day as I try to get to work and back.

The fact of the matter is, though, I don’t actually like Eau Claire. Either you have to pay an arm and a leg for parking or park on the other side of the Bow River and hike back up all those fucking stairs that go from the river valley to your car. Also, even though I lived in the inner city proper and worked only just east of downtown, my commute used to take between forty-five and ninety minutes, depending on the time of day. That’s wayyy too much time to be staring at the C-Train line and wondering what the heck is taking so long with the construction.

As you very well know (and are probably sick of reading), I had a hard go of it in Calgary in 2010/11. I keep wanting to say “in Calgary last year”, but it’s already been more than a year. “Two years ago” just doesn’t roll of the tongue. Or… From my fingers onto the keyboard.

I digress.

If I felt shattered in November 2009 when I realized that I wanted nothing more than to be back home, it was nothing compared to my next stint in the city. I worked a job which, though I liked, left me practically no regular time for myself to take language lessons, a different class, or better yet, get a second full-time job so I could afford to eat. Debt, my divorce, and the biggest personal catastrophe of my lifetime to-date meant that I went to work and went home.

I didn’t have downtown lunch dates, and I didn’t paint the town red with friends. I couldn’t afford a car that was reliable in the winter, and I couldn’t afford to replace my hand-me-down furniture to transform my flat from a grandma-house to one that I really could enjoy.
I didn’t have any of the things I so enjoy on my trips to Calgary.

The real reason I left Calgary again in 2011? The only thing more painful than living abroad and romanticizing the place you once called home is living in that place you call home and romanticizing about it since you aren’t really a part of it all and can’t be. I was on the outside, and felt like I was watching people live in Calgary without really living there myself. That, combined with that stupid personal catastrophe of a lifetime, drove me away.

Considering I’m not over the moon about my life in Germany, it’s hard not to tell myself that I’d move back to Calgary in an instant if I knew things would work out properly this time. The real issue here, though, is that I’ve been abroad on and off for five years now. If I’m in Germany, I miss Calgary. If I’m in Calgary, I miss Stuttgart. If I’m in Colgone, I miss Stuttgart. If I’m in Stuttgart, I miss Cologne and Calgary. I should know better by now and know that the grass, though green, is not greener anywhere.

A. and I discussed it last night – I’ve been too many places and haven’t settled down anywhere. I run away rather than trying to make it work, because I have an uncanny ability to convince myself that where I am isn’t where I want to end up. If I do try to go back, though, I am frustrated that things aren’t how they used to be.

Places change, and so do people. When you’re gone, you change too, but in a different way. And so there’s a clash, that no matter what you do, you can’t make things fit into the past. And when you decide to start fresh instead of trying to replicate something that can no longer be replicated, you realize your new experiences may still pale in comparison to the romantic notion you have in your head of the past.

I suppose I’m sounding a little apocalyptic here. Not being in Calgary with some of the people most important in my life isn’t the end of the world. Seeing A. and not being able to be with her all the time is close, though. Perhaps it’s just because it won’t stop snowing here and I feel like, with snow almost reaching my waist, the end of the world is near. So it’s time to say my goodbyes and come to some trite conclusion about my experiences in preparation for death by nuclear winter.

Perhaps, though, I’m still just out of it after being loser wasted with A. last night as we reminisced about our lives and fretted over the future. I think I’ll stick with that excuse, because it means I’m not actually as sentimental and confused as I come across. Yeah, that’s it.