Misanthropy

I haven't felt very compelled to write recently. I force myself to write anyway, and my entries are either ranty, emo or factual recountings of my daily activities. Just feeling kind of blank and don't have the energy to fake it.

Wrote some interesting poetry over at www.allpoetry.com/Odori. Wasn't much liked by the judges of the contests I entered, but I'm not terribly surprised. Those that do like it, though, really like it - and judging by the writing of my "fans," I'm content with that. I think I've gotten too involved with the community, to the expense of my creativity.

Several months ago, Caspian had the opportunity to relocate to Montreal for his job. He didn't take that opportunity because of my career... But now a certain portion of my brain is desperately wishing for that chance to up and leave. Recklessly abandon everything and start anew in a foreign place, become accustomed to new ways of thinking and living and communicating. Escape the United States. I don't want to live here anymore.

While we were eating dinner last night, I thought about all of the friends and acquaintances who have fallen in love with a foreign culture, and about the characteristics of these cultures that were so appealing. One loved a rural community in Mexico because of the colors and sense of bonhomie. Another loved the Northern Irish for their steadfastness, strong cultural identity and close-knit families.

Who falls in love with the United States? Why? To emulate our fashion, arrogance, flagrant consumerism? Propensity towards valuing wealth over enlightenment? Is there a single wholesome reason to love the United States?