(It’s Guest Blogger Week here on KNOX-esque. Today’s post is by Kate S. “A Fictitious Reality“
I’ve been living in Boston for almost four years, and when people ask if I’m ever going to move back home, to Minnesota, I’ve always shrugged and said, “Probably. Eventually.”
Well, as it stands, eventually is May, 2010.
The disillusionment of youth is starting to wear off and already, at twenty-two, I’m coming to terms with the paradoxes of reality. Of course, I’d love to live a care-free East Coast single-gal life for a couple more years- complete with sailing trips off The Cape and nights out at swanky hotel bars where my tab is always paid by someone else and a cab stand is parked directly outside. My life in Boston, especially considering how wretched so many undergraduates seem to have it, has been enormously charming, but somehow it also feels unreal. Not unreal like a dream, but more like a mask, a facade.
You see, Minnesota exists without pretense, it isn’t trying to be anything it’s not and when Minnesotans- whether they be mere citizens (think the founders of Apple Valley’s School of Environmental Studies) or behemoth corporations (think Aveda)- say they’re going to do something, they [generally] do. And they’re not making claims about environmental standards and supporting local business simply because it’ll make the public feel good, which seems to be the case in New England, but rather they do it because they genuinely believe in such initiatives. This isn’t a research paper, so forgive me for not citing some incriminating examples, but the sentiment exists and has permeated into the psyches of the citizens. I mean, Boston is great, but people here seem to be trying to outwardly appear to be something they’re not in a more obvious way than Midwesterners. Whether it be their expansive handbag or the school their children attend, it all seems overtly manufactured and exhaustingly controlled.
It’s hard to articulate, but essentially it just doesn’t feel right.
I never thought I’d join the legions of college graduates who march home with their degree still clenched tightly in their sweating fist to fling open the front door and announce, “Mom and Dad, I’m home!” but I’m going to.
I never thought I’d confess to missing the Minnesotan accent and the way residents of the state say ridiculously cute things like, “Oh, golly!” and “Gosh darn,” but I do.
I never thought I’d want to own a car, but the threat of airborne illness and crazy people (like the drunk man who peed on the train last week) has slightly tarnished my shining ideal of public transportation, and I look forward to driving again.
I never thought I was fatally attached to my friends and family- and though I’m surely not dying in their absence, it certainly feels as though I’m not fully living without them, either.
So, dear readers, I’m doing what I never thought I would, and I’m coming home to Minnesota, and I cannot wait to celebrate the occasion with you, Jim Beam, and Nate Knox.
(I apologize for any or all gross generalizations made in this post. These views are my own and are in no way endorsed by Nate Knox, though I like to think they are.)