Stubbornocity

Preface

There are two distinct conditions of my current being. As Matthew I am a (young looking) 31 year old, struggling artist (I say artist to encompass graphic design, architecture, web design, and freelance film). As Matthew, I am passionate about my life in Detroit and most notably, Clair. She is my muse and until yesterday, my live-in girlfriend. As Matthew I have two cats and work 3 jobs to sustain a semi comfortable existence with Clair, Frankie and Fred.

 The second condition, Mateo, is a free spirit. An adventurer. A strong, independent traveller with no ties in any city. Tall (not really), dark (haha), handsome, (absolutely not)…mysterious and confident. As Mateo, I swallow the world whole one small Eastern European country at a time. To blend with my environment on my travels, as Mateo, I grow a pitiful beard, wear little, if any deodorant, and practice Canadianisms, just in case my blending technique is questioned. As Mateo, I am fearless and forever searching for life in its purest form; the way our ancestors experienced it.

Today, I am Matthew…

Day -2

As I watched Clair trail through the line to Security at the airport, swarms of emotions overtook me. The hardest thing to do with someone you love is say goodbye…even if it is only for a short period of time (7 weeks; 49 days; 1176 hours; 70560 minutes; eternity). But I needed to continue. Cleaning, packing, moving for the ever quickly looming adventure ahead…

Stubbornocity

*Stubbornocity: A quality or state of being stubborn with the intent to act on emotion and complete lack of reason

Day -1

As I reach the end of the first 1/3 of my life (okay, I may not live till 90…93 to be exact), I find my stubbornocity swelling more and more inside me. I continually shove off knowledge and suggestions from others in an attempt to prove to myself that I am capable of making sound decisions based on my upbringing, my education, and my ideals.

This morning was the first morning without Clair in 3 years. No kiss, no warm touch on the arm to feed the cats, no call, no text. As she resides in Lebanon for the next 7 weeks (7 weeks; 49 days; 1176 hours; 70560 minutes; eternity), I try to forgive her. So I began to gather my ambition off my pillow case, and muster up the strength to begin moving…everything. The bed, pillows, cats, everything. First objective; the bed. I pull up the truck I was so generously allowed to borrow and begin the first load. As I think to myself “maybe I should call Mike to come help,” my stubbornocity steps in and says, “no, you’ll be fine on your own, son! Be a man!” So I grab the bed, box spring first, then mattress, and load it in the truck. I take a quick assessment for any weight issues and conclude that a rope may come in handy at this point. I look at my watch; 6:45am. Ok, so the hardware store opens at 7, right? Nope, 9:00am! I can’t wait that long and after all, the truck is already loaded. I, or my stubbornocity, decide to chance it. I assessed the weight and it didn’t seem that bad.

I drive over the bumpy Michigan Avenue intersection and begin my decent onto the freeway. Of course, being Detroit, there is virtually no entrance length and absolutely no driver etiquette even at 7:00am. I am keeping a close eye on the mattress as I am forced to speed up in front of oncoming death drivers and merge onto the Lodge. I make it, just barely, and look back to make sure my cargo is in place…one missing…like a leaf caught in an autumn breeze, the mattress flew from the truck and over the ramp to an abyss I can only imagine.

As Mateo, I would toss care to the wind and drive to my next destination without a single thought as to the whereabouts of the mattress. As Matthew…I panic. Drivers begin waving at me to let me know the fact that I had already learned. Next exit, Warren, 1 MILE! I come back around fearing someone was killed by a flying, 80 pound, Queen bed. I retrace my steps and (stubbornicity) get back on the freeway. This time, however, I throw on the blinkers and make everyone stop for me…that’s right, I learned something. I enter the ramp…nothing. I get on the Lodge…nothing. No remnance of posturepedic explosion or mangled steel anywhere. As my panic begins to subside and I start to accept the loss of my bed, I glance in the rearview mirror…the box spring lay in the middle of the road.

The rest of the day went somewhat in the same vein. I cleaned out the apartment and washed it from end to end. As I grabbed Clair’s clothes to transport, I (Matthew) began to swell with tears. But not to fear, tomorrow to Bulgaria! Then to Macedonia! Then to Kosova! All will be conquered by Mateo! No tears allowed! And then I collected Frankie and Fred and I (Matthew) cried for the entire length of the drive to Kurt’s apartment.

I must explain that Frankie also has a mysterious alter ego that emerges during her travels. So mysterious you may never see her. As Francesca, she looks for those details we as surface dwellers overlook. The nooks in basements and behind beds, Francesca understands and adores. She is a woman of the dark. She is reclusive and sometimes she even fasts during her travels.  She is very disciplined…unlike Frankie, the morning terror. Once she gets her meal promptly at 5:00am after knocking every visible and physically manageable object onto the floor, Frankie will roll around on the carpet in the sun for hours and then insert her nails into our modest furniture.

Fred, or his travelling self, Federico becomes…well he has no alter ego. Still an asshole.

So I find myself on the edge of a steep cliff with one foot to the air. A great adventure is to come. Who knows what’s in store for Mateo. Who knows if his friend will even be there to greet him…uncommunicative bastard. The ever attractive and enticing unknown is just one more step. And yet, my existential being, where the two conditions converge, is caught on the edge. Excited and overwhelmed. Looking to the future and thinking of yesterday. As much as I am the fearless and independent world traveller, I am also the sad, homeless, catless, bedless, Clairless little boy.

I miss you Clair.