My final day in Minneapolis was enjoyable and bittersweet.

 I very much enjoyed getting to spend a bit more time with Tess before we parted--the conversations were pleasant and thoughtful, the lutefisk was surprisingly palatable (we agreed it needs to be made into sushi), and it was so comfortable (I'd been rather intimidated by her when we first met online, and had some mild concern as to whether we'd be able to tolerate one another's presence for any real duration). I was sad to realize it will be a while before I can visit again.

Afterwards, I took Grady to lunch as a way of saying thank you, whereupon I discovered that Minneapolis does indeed have decent Chinese food, even by my somewhat finicky standards. We relaxed, swapped music and watched old "Simpsons" episodes for a little bit until, at long last, the time had come to say goodbye. The drive to the airport left me smiling and sad at the same time, and while I was pleased to get back to Seattle I found myself dragging my feet after I hugged Grady and shuffled into the airport. This tiny slice of Minnesota treated me very kindly while I was there, and gave me every reason to want to return someday--perhaps even for an extended period of time. I'd miss good tea, mountains in the distance and the sheer diversity of Seattle (though Minneapolis is rather more diverse than I expected--I heard about seven languages spoken that I could identify, and a few I couldn't). However, I suspect if I did relocate, or even just take an extended visiting trip, it would be a worthwhile experience.

 But now I am home...or am I? Derrick's apartment no longer feels like my place. I feel a guest, who seems mysteriously to have the run of a single bedroom therein. It does not feel as though there is any specific place that *is* my home right now. I am itinerant in the dwellings of friends until I find a way to support myself in a place that feels like mine.

 In any case, there is school to attend, work to find, therapy and medical issues to address, debt to pay and life to be lived.

It seems to be a truism that whenever I travel, I will feel accustomed to the place I'm visiting just shortly before it is time to go.

 Suffice to say, I have had a wonderful time here in Minnesota, both in Minneapolis proper with Grady and further out into the suburbs with Tess. By no means did I see enough to whet my appetite, in either locale--Minneapolis is a big, complex and many-faceted city, and I suspect the only way to truly get acquainted with it in depth would be to live here for a time. And while suburban sprawl is...rather the same, in many ways, wherever you go, the people and places are not. I suspect there is much to bring me back here in the future.

Shortly after my last post, I spent an evening with Tess. There was some Battlestar Galactica watched, much conversation had, and a fair bit of writing shared. Perhaps because she is also somewhat withdrawn, her home appears to equal "Safe space" to my perceptions, providing me with the closest thing I've had to (badly-needed) time alone since I arrived here. It was wonderful getting a chance to meet her.

 The next morning, Grady and I had brunch with some more friends of hers (I have met so many people since I arrived!), at a charming little hippy cafe. They take a rather communist approach to everything--you write down your own order at your table, including the price, get your own table furnishings and water as you need them, deliver your order to the kitchen staff and wait until they call your name. Charming. Also like many communist economies, you can expect some serious inefficiency in the production process. However, the resulting food was excellent--it contained a veritable swarm of adjectives such as "organic", "free range" and so on. The menu intrigued and delighted, and it is definitely someplace I will dine again, someday.

 Afterwards, we took a bit of a drive to visit the Como zoo in St Paul. It's housed in a small park, and is not the sort of sprawling, big-production affair I tend to associate with the word "zoo." They did have a surprising collection of primates, though my heart went out to the poor gorillas, who seemed especially unhappy with all the attention they were recieving. I find it impossible not to empathize, even deeply, with both gorillas and orangutans, who seem largely indistinguishable from humans in terms of their percieved emotional capacity.* I took some photos with Grady's excellent camera--any worth sharing will be uploaded later.

 Tess then invited me back for a Rifftrax party with some friends that evening, and since Grady had a social function that seemed likely to involve loud noises, large groups of strangers, and drinking, I took Tess up on the invite. After meeting these charming people, we headed to dinner at Red Robin (aiya, halfway across the country to eat dinner at a place I've been more times than I could count) before retreating back to the domicile of the resident webmistress and host of this site. Suffice to say, I laughed until my facial muscles were aching and sore. It made me a bit sad to be leaving so soon--this is a repeated event, and I'd love to have a weekly viewing party of this sort myself. 

 There was...a single moment of unpleasantness that occured after I technically had gone to bed. I won't recount it in detail here, except to say it involved a message from Andrea and left me rather fragile. I did not sleep well at all afterward.

Today: saying goodbye to Tess, a brief lunch and thank-you with Grady, and then...to Seattle. I am not sure it will be the same as when I left.

-- 

*I am speaking subjectively, here, but it seems rather evident to me that our nearest relatives, while they may not possess the same cognitive traits to the same degrees as we do, are nevertheless cut from very similar cloth and display far more ability to feel and think than I need to empathize with a living thing in the first place.

Today, Grady and I spent some time at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts with a friend of hers (Drew).

 The museum is quite possibly the most extensive such collection I've ever visited. We didn't even see a small fraction of what I wanted to. I have already resolved to come back and take in the Pacific Islands collection at some point--meanwhile, the sections devoted to African, Chinese, and Southeast Asian art whetted my appetite. We also spent a fair bit of time going over some Renaissance artwork. I've discovered that paintings, especially of people, are mostly dull to me and often unsettling. In addition, I seem to have very little appreciation for old forms of European interior design. Despite this, those sections did contain some astonishing metalwork--in particular, a set of armor and weapons (including some spectacular firearms) with exquisite etching and ivory inlay. It was a bittersweet sort of appreciation--as an anthropology buff who's especially enamored of various non-Western cultures, I am painfully aware of how these artifacts in particular may have been used in the wholesale slaughter of peoples across the globe. It almost seems to poison the art somehow, or at least stain it in my eyes. At the same time, I admire the craftsmanship--the sense of imagery I saw in the Renaissance section may be dreary, but the handiwork is impressive nonetheless. I almost always admire functional art--while I prefer aesthetically -simple implements myself, there is something to be said for making tools ornate without disrupting their function.

 The Sculpture Garden was next, and there will be a few photos when I'm in more comfortable environs. While sitting and basking in the nice weather, I managed to just about brain myself on one of the sculptures, which had seemed like a comfortable thing against which to sit. Hence, the title of this post. Now I sit in the Saint Louis Park library, with a fresh copy of "American Gods" from their booksale.

I am not a seasoned traveller. Evidence of this can be found in the way my final day immediately prior to travel always seems to be a major exercise in procrastination. On Tuesday night, I wound up foregoing sleep to chat with Trice and finish some coursework. It's been a while since I pulled an all-nighter, and my body is not as forgiving as it used to be. On top of that, my redeye flight (which departed at 12:40am in the wee hours of Thursday morning) proved to be antithetical to sleep--there was plenty of turbulence, and my mind was abuzz with so many things. The scenery was predictably nonexistant, at those hours. I am not yet experienced enough with air travel to be disenchanted about the view, at least when lighting is adequate.

I staggered into MSP and connected with Grady; after an interminable drive across town in several directions (Grady lacks a sense of direction), we found her neighborhood and had breakfast at Bad Waitress--better than average for "greasy spoon" style breakfast.

My initial impressions of Minneapolis are very good. It is difficult to define; I've really only seen small glimpses of it so far; however, I like what I've
seen and suspect there is much more of the same in store. Getting to know a city takes time, for me, just like a person--not simply in terms of learning the layout and geography, the local culture and peculiarities of government, transportation and history's shaping effects, but also in terms of the city's personality. So far, I have gotten along well with the personality of this place. I miss mountains and salt water, but I love the gentle hillocks and numerous lakes. Although I hadn't considered it much until recently, images of Minnesota (or at least suggestions of them) have been etched into my brain from childhood by the particular interests of my parents (who, among other things, are NPR devotees and listened weekly to "A Prairie Home Companion"), and a number of books I read in school which happened to be set here or concern the wilderness lands in this state. Thus, while being entirely new, it also feels subtly familiar, an an entirely welcoming way.

I still want to see much more of the city. Today was given over to rest and practical concerns, followed by a trip to the Mall of America (not because I have any real interest in such things, but because Grady needed to buy clothing) and some social time in the evening with Grady's friends (who run a fire-dancing troupe in their spare time, and are attempting to go pro). I had a number of difficulties early on--the weariness, crowding and and general adjustment-shock of having moved two time zones eastward and entered a new climate had a predictable effect. I retreated into my shell. There was a panic attack, I think, and I wound up being very silent...but everyone seemed quite understanding about it. I handled this far more gracefully than I think I ever have. Watching the performance was fun, but I expect that I will be quite exhausted of group dynamics come tomorrow. Tentative plans have been made to spend some time with Tess on Saturday evening/night, which will be a welcome reprieve from having to focus on more than one person.

One very tentative note, made early on, is that people here seem somewhat more down-to-Earth than on the West coast. I'm not sure how to articulate it, and the sample group was small--but it was varied, and that sense was borne out in direct conversation with some of them. One of the people I met in particular is from California originally, and suggested my impressions were accurate. Another said I seem to fit in well here, which came as a surprise (if pleasant); I had been so busy being quiet and off on the sidelines that I quite failed to notice that nobody read this as cold or distant behavior, and my somewhat rote "pleasant, polite and reserved" mask seemed to be...well, acceptable.  

I'd normally feel a bit more out of place amongst a group of hippies and artsy types who are so outgoing and experienced with one another. Here, the pressure was simply off, and it was okay to be the quiet girl, and the out-of-towner who's bad at small talk.

Not bad for my first day.

Nifty! Moonspell is releasing a new album this month in Europe, and next month in the US (drat). I only stumbled upon it earlier this week when Sirius 27 played the title track. Needless to say, it's been stuck in my head for the last few days.

Sample, anyone?

I've developed a fondness for the Portuguese Gothic Metal band the last few months. More times than not I've plugged their name into Last.fm and listened for hours and hours. Delicious, dark, symphonic in places, their sound can be oddly comforting to me.

Perhaps it's a bit contrarian that harsh riffs, and Death Metal grunting can be comforting; music with a much brighter tone (irrespective of the lyrics) fill me with a kind of squeamish disgust. It's like being drown in honey. I want to rip through it, tear through the golden color and the stiflingly sweet air and unmask all that is ugly and painful. That release is precious to me as it was something I was not allowed to do growing up.

In a way, I feel that unmasking is my calling as a writer. I want to pull all the ugliness of humanity from its dark hiding places and force them into the light. Only then can we appreciate its subtle beauty.