Trying to get my head together and decide what to do with my time. It should go without saying that I live my life in little epochs separated by events. A holiday trip home certainly classifies. I had my concerns and projects and threads of thought before the trip, but after coming back, I have to wonder which ones I want to carry forward into this next epoch. All the concerns of the world will come at me before I’m ready, so I’m not too interested in accelerating their return. Work resumes tomorrow, laundry resumes today, and I went grocering last night. Life continues on, I guess. Decide what baggage to leave behind.

On an unrelated note, last night’s Dresden Dolls show was fucking phenomenal. It was the last show on their current tour, and they pulled out all the stops. Amanda Fucking Palmer and Brian Viglione were at the top of their form, and it was a joy to watch them play off of each other’s musical asides and hit all the right notes at the same exact time. If that’s not the musical form of simultaneous orgasm, I don’t know what is.

They played most of their hits, which was a treat, but it was the weird little covers they played that made the whole thing worth it; a few of the songs were lullabies told with musical accompaniment, some are from the historical cabaret canon including “Mein Herr” from the movie “Cabaret”. During the first of two encores, they played an incredible cover of Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs”, which gave me a new appreciation for the song and the craftsmanship that went into writing it. Sugar and spice.

What hit me most about the show was their inclusion of the audience. Not only was it OK to participate in the show by cat-calling and singing, it was compulsory (some girls near me knew every single word). They went as far as to pull 20-odd hand-selected people from the audience up to the stage to have them help perform “The Jeep Song”, and that was incredible. I wish more bands got involved like that.

It seems we, as a society, have lost our heritage of pub songs, work songs, and sense of being OK with singing in public, even if we can’t do it as well as the professionals. A travesty, really. But the Dolls do their best to remind us it’s OK.

“You motherfuckers, you’ll sing some day.”

So. A decade, all in one place. That breaks all of my prior records. Most of my life has been spent in Texarkana, yes, but it’s all split up between 2 years after birth, 8 years growing up, a year after college, 2 years after Greensboro, etc. It definitely beats my 5.5 years in Arkadelphia and 5 years in Lubbock. So yeah.

But has it been a good ten years? Has the whole Austin experience been all I’d hoped? It is with equal parts shame and reality that I have no choice but to say “No, no it hasn’t.”

After moving here, those first six months were heavily influenced by Serendipity. She had her hand in everything I did, every new relationship I started, every accidental decision I made. Those were heady times, and everything was new and sudden. Horizons stretched out beyond my vision. Every wrong turn showed me something new. Every wander around town gave me a new vista to take in the wonder and spectacle of this ever-growing land of a million souls. So much possibility was at the end of my hands.

And then Serendipity left me stranded like an unprepared fool. The dotcom boom went to bust and pulled the rug out from under us all; party over. The thrill turned into survival, but there was an immediacy in it; it was either sink or swim. I had to wonder where my next meal was coming from. For an unsteady while, it really was ramen daily. It was donated coffee. It was two smokes a day. It was burning through meager savings. It was sweating the rent. It was five dollars in gas. It was day labor. It was 7-Eleven. It was data entry. It was pizza delivery. It was shitty joe-jobs where I could find them.

But as beat dead as I felt, I was still alive. When finally the stable work appeared again, when finally I nursed my economic wounds and regained stability, even though I felt dead inside, I held onto the stability like my life depended on it. I learned that I demand stability; I can’t hustle and work it job to job, game to game. I’m not that kind of person; that’s not my personality. It’s not in my skillset to move from gamble to gamble and roll with the punches. I’m a factory floor kind of guy.

So in that respect, in seeking stability, I grew up quite a bit. It’s what adults do over time, I guess: turn in their chaos for a piece of stasis. There’s no risk in the weekly fourty, and it provides me with the opportunity to do stuff that I wouldn’t have done if I, for instance, were working three part-times and relying on selling art to make rent and a car payment. Stuff like, I dunno, buy a house, plan a vacation, raise kids, support a wife, save for retirement. Stuff the stable people do.

But I’m not doing any of that stuff. I feel like I should be, but I’m not. My state in life allows me, but I’m still longing for the random, the accidental, the non-static. Or at least I’m waiting for it. I’ve grown up enough to afford my toys, but I still haven’t matured into something dependable. I have no dependents, nor do I want them. At 38, I think it’s rather late in my life to push for kids; that clock unwound years ago. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a partner, a Significant Other, right?

Funny, that, because when I first moved here, my gregarity was in overdrive. I met people, exchanged contacts, introduced myself even if the encounter never went beyond the first conversation. But when everything fell down around me, I closed up and became the man I used to be. Solitary, a loner, alone. And moreso now than ever, I’m still alone. Sometimes blissfully, but usually painfully. So in that respect, this has been a decade of decline. I’m still surrounded by over a million souls, and all I have to do is reach out again. It should be that easy, right?

There has to be a way to balance the stability I demand with the immediacy I miss. I’m dreaming while snoozing at the controls, and it’s as if I need a pinch to wake me up to take a breath. I really, really don’t want to jinx myself and end up living on the dole and the lam, but I need something to shake me up again. I look back and all I see is the sad dream of squandered potential.

So this is my life, the big experiment that is moving to Austin. It’s funny that the grand design, among my group of friends back home, was that we would all pick a date and use that as the “Great Mass Exodus to Austin.” One by one, though, they dropped out as life threw them curveballs, and I alone made the run to first base. Fitting that this play would echo my time here, that the walk around the diamond would be mine to walk on my own. You’d think that I’d be at the home base by now, but if the Pitcher isn’t paying attention, if the shortstop doesn’t care, if the outfield isn’t watching, why should I even bother stealing bases?

Serendipity has left the ballpark.

Had an issue with the heater in my apartment. I get home from being out Saturday night to find the heater running. It’s colder than I wanted, so I turned up the thermostat. Well, a half-hour later, the temp is still the same. Put my hand up to the vent and it’s blowing unheated air. Huh! So, I turned it off and tried to bundle up for a cold night of sleep. Contacted the landlady the next day; she said she’d call the heater tech to come out, and if he couldn’t, she’d get me a portable heater. Of course, he didn’t come out on Sunday (because she’d have to pay him weekend rates), so she shows up with a heater. Thanks a million.

The tech dropped by Monday to take a look, and came by this morning with a rebuilt heater core. I finally have heat again. Luckily for me, the past two days have been warmer than usual (ironic, considering it’s officially “winter” now), so I’ve not really needed a heater. But the next three days, while my mother’s visiting, are predicted to be chilly.

Not sure what we’ll do while she’s here. Sitting at the coffeeshop is prescribed, of course, as is driving around to see the sights. I want to take her out to see “Avatar” in 3D, but I’m not sure what showing or venue we’ll attend. I’m sure any place will be fine. I also want to go see the city’s Trail of Lights; I know it’s been heavily scaled back this year due to budgetary constraints, but we can actually drive to the park and park there, and now that she’s more ambulatory than last time, she might get more enjoyment out of it. I’m thinking that’s an xmas day thing.

So what’s on the menu for xmas dinner? Pot roast, of course! We’ll be doing it up right with an oven and all the trimmings. I guarantee there’ll be leftovers; I’m feeling full already.