Country Mouse in the City

In a city full of stray cats, it’s no wonder you don’t see any mice.  I’m starting to feel like a country mouse here in the city, or at least a country mouse in disguise.  I dread having to leave the house because I no longer live in a place where I can walk out my front door wearing my yoga clothes and flip-flops (even to go to the corner store for water and bananas).  I have to cover up my tattoos and try hard to look like I tried hard to look decent.  What could possibly happen if I don’t?  Well, it’s not like I’d get devoured by some hungry predator, but I would stick out like a sore thumb (even more so than I already do being white and female).  

All the make-up and fancy clothes can’t make me look like a magazine model or a t.v.star, let alone like a city dweller.  The other ex-pat women here are all about style, and I just don't have it.  At least not the urban fashion style. I think back on my days in Alaska and Oregon.  Damn, I was HOT in Alaska.  Super hot.  I could rock Xtra Tuffs and Carhartts and make men's hearts melt.  I didn’t have to wear make-up.  I could throw my hair in a bun and use scrunchies and not worry about the fashion police arresting me.  I dressed for the weather, not the people.  I dressed so that I could get dirty or wet, not to look like I had never gutted a fish or climbed a mountain.   Who am I fooling here in my high heels and pathetic attempts to look "stylish"?  It never feels right or comfortable.  I doubt myself constantly-- “Am I supposed to wear nude heels with this skirt?  Do I wear silver or gold with this outfit?  Should my earrings match my necklace?  Do I look like I don't know a thing about fashion (cuz I don't)?" Yes, I hired a personal stylist to help equip me for this place, but I feel like I should have taken better notes.  The thing is I just don’t like to fake it and I feel like that’s what I’m doing here-- faking it.  And so is everyone else.  

I have not found "my people" yet.  REAL people.  People who aren't fake, who are liberal and outspoken, hippies, people who don't give a shit what people think, who aren't afraid to admit they are vulnerable and make mistakes.  Aside from my roommate (how blessed I am!), I haven’t found anyone that I can be real with, and who I feel is showing me who they really are.  That's it-- this place is hard.  This place is full of people who care more about what is outside than what is inside.  Maybe what I gain from this whole experience is simply an answer to the big question, an end to this restless uncertainty: Where do I belong?  

My heart and soul are screaming for a mountain, to be protected by the trees, to be standing somewhere where there are no signs of humans.  Just nature.  Raw and wild.  It is turning into an anxiety that I never expected would be so deep.  It's a sadness and a longing deep within me, and if I think about it too much I start to cry.  I just swallow it, and distract myself... with work, with shopping missions, with the internet.  

Ok, enough with the rant.  This situation is only temporary. Speaking of shopping missions-- I found organic kale today which made me want to leap through Lulu's in joy. I also discovered an organic grocer where I can order a veggie box with local, seasonal, organic veggies, which I can pick up from a cafe nearby called Jones the Grocer. The website is called Ripe Me. Yes, Ripe Me. Clever or creepy?

Be positive, Erin! Why is it so hard? Ok so I caught some glimpses of humanity last night.  I went to a poetry slam event -- Rooftop Rhythms-- with my new friends Cathy (from Kenya) and Temi (from NYC).  There were poets, hip hop artists, and singers from all over the UAE and abroad.  They represented many countries in Africa (Egypt, Sudan, Somalia, Kenya, Ghana), the Middle East & Asia (Palestine, UAE, Pakistan, India) and the Americas (Detroit, New York, L.A., San Francisco, Guyana).  There was some real talent (and some brave souls who got up to the mic), great hip hop and R & B singers.  I especially loved the woman who sang Erikah Badu’s “On and On” and got the whole audience singing.  I realized that I would never find a gathering like this in Oregon or Alaska.  I still felt like a country mouse (who can’t dance) though.