| Summary: | This thesis is an examination of the geographical oddities of my past, the process of transitioning between worlds, and the kinds of relationships that survive those transitions. In a world where I can fly from Atlanta to Beijing non-stop in fifteen hours, I sometimes convince myself that geography no longer matters. I was born in the tropics, raised in the arctic, and became a dual citizen of the same two countries twice. I could distinguish gunshots from fireworks by age five and have ridden the Trans-Siberian Railroad in both directions. I have milked a water buffalo and played Tchaikovsky's piano and been interrogated by a Maoist by firelight on the top of a mountain at the far western edge of the earth. I have seen the Louvre and the Hermitage and the highest point in Iowa and The Pit, the outhouse that connects directly to Hell. I sometimes believe I can go anywhere. See anything. Befriend anyone. But I deceive myself. Some places are so far away, it takes years to settle, to adjust, to reach a level of familiarity where the world outside your window, and the people in that world, no longer shock you. I have seldom stayed that long.The transient life does not get easier, but you can get better at it. I have gotten better at it. Distance is a matter of perspective and convenience and desire. The farther two places, or two people, or two lifestyles are from each other, the subtler and more intricate the connecting lines. My contentment and sanity and relationships depend upon deciphering those lines. This is the story of what I've learned. 2013-05-01 M.F.A. Arts and Humanities, English Masters This record was generated from author submitted information.
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