Going Home, Terrified

At 1:20 PM tomorrow, I will arrive in the Nashville, TN airport. Elliot Craig will pick me up and drive me into Bowling Green, KY, the closest thing I have to a geographical home. I remember home in lights bright and dark. My friends surrounded me in symbiotic compromise and forgiveness. We did not begrudge each other our humanitarian failings. To sleep until 3 PM and start drinking at 5 was not behavior questionable. In a certain sense, our approach to community was one of most extreme tolerance. And in that light, we were the most open minded and accepting group of people in Kentucky. To look at the side of the coin less illuminated, one might argue that we took an irresponsible approach and took unaccountability for granted. I think both of these perspectives are correct. We saw the potential repercussions of our laizze faire approach to friendship, but at the same time we were not willing to accept the mantle of responsibility or judgement. Who were we, as individuals, to tell anyone else what to do?

I fear Kentucky because I am trying to be more than Kentucky. And I refer to Kentucky as the identity I developed as a Kentuckian, through its social and cultural influences. In Kentucky I was the oil slick on asphalt that does little but remind drivers to be careful, because negligence runs the risk of sliding sliding sliding into the guard rail. I was the refuse of society, the spot spit out by progress. As an oil slick I was disgusting, but at the same time I was the reminder of reality preventing the clean mesh of tire to asphalt, citizen to society. I was the totem of strength and potential to bolster a community, and at the same time I was the toppled rubble from that monument. This is what we can produce, and this is what we will destroy said my story.

I don't want to be special, or a symbol, to anyone because of my failure. I don't want people to look at me and think about what they could have done differently. I want to be ignored and treated indifferently until I have a reason to be acknowledged, and I fear my sojourn home will yield results opposite. My friends are my friends because they are my family in so many ways. They will be glad to see me regardless of my accomplishments/shortcomings. I can survive as an individual in their embrace, but I want identity beyond that provided by some disconnected social network. My group of friends in Kentucky establishes themselves as people by connecting on an individual philosophy of noninterference and superiority. I love them for that, and I probably influenced that disposition, and that is part of my identity, but I want to evolve beyond that person, and I want to remain a friend to my friends. Is it possible?

Will my friends be willing to discuss my pitfalls or their plans for a brighter future? Can we relate on a level beyond loneliness in a world of social creatures? Like a sovereign nation we isolated ourselves from the influences of our society and families. We were something transcendent and ultimately flawed. We each led beautiful lives full of significance in our sphere of influence, but it was limited to our sphere of friendship and comradery. If we strive only to influence and impact that sphere, then we are on the right track. I believe, however, the world is bigger than that and so is our humane responsibility. Each of us is a good person. Together, though, I fear we boundarize and confine our potential. We can do good for the world, and we want to, but I don't know if we can do it together.