...sat on a park bench like bookends...

I'm moving back to Brantford at the end of the month, just for the summer. I can't tell you how much this excites me. I'll still have some school left to finish in May and June, so I'll be in Hamilton quite a lot still, but the thought of returning home is really exciting! And it's all because of relationships.

First, there is the relationship between myself and art. I've spent the last five at Mac drawing influences and inspiration from my classes, but very little creation has taken place (beyond a few short stories and short films). Now is the time to put my education to work. I think I view the last five years as preparation for my writing (many classes were spent daydreaming about the perfect story, the perfect soundtrack, the perfectly framed shot). So now I begin writing, and there is no better place to do so than back home in Brantford. I feel like there's a lot of unresolved elements in Brantford that I'll be returning to, and as difficult as it may be, I need to go back into these old haunts in order to be faithful to the some of the stories I want/need to write.

A return to my old art.

Secondly, and more importantly, is the relationship between myself and Brantford friends. I think a distance has developed in many of my relationships with people back home, and I'm not content to leave it that way. Sure, as people develop into different paths, journeys, and stories, sometimes we inevitably become distanced. But this is not because I do not value those friendships. It is just the way the story has developed thus far. I'm more Art Garfunkel than I am Paul Simon.

A return to my old friends.

As F. Scott so eloquently put it,

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

It is time for my Gatsby.