From my old MySpace blog…
Today we find out whether or not we can build our house. The Land Use Appeals Board is hearing our case tonight.
What if we can’t build, you ask? We sell the lot for a tidy profit. Then we move to Moab or something. I don’t know. That is where I am right now. WTF am I doing/have I done? I have this web of circumstances surrounding what may appear to be a string of brash decisions: to buy a lot on Capitol Hill, to sell a cozy condominium in Holladay, to make lifestyle changes, to buy a floundering business and quit my job. I can see why some people find comfort in fate, and I’ve found myself looking for meaning in chaos. Where I felt totally in control of my surroundings, my brain was in turmoil; now I’ve flipped that, and I’m letting the universe deal with me however I put myself out there. Christian and I are operating on the same page, thankfully; with plenty of supportive friends and family at our side. It is this collective faith that keeps us going–the collective unconscious. But it’s these non-believers, like our neighbors, etc., that throw our beliefs into sharp contrast. Maybe they bring us back to earth. Maybe we’ve got our heads in the clouds, but I like to think that going against the grain is the catalyst for change and progression.
I can see why the Mormons send missionaries to my door. I’ve felt that convicted about what we’re doing/feeling. I’ve looked around at unhappy people and wondered if they might benefit from what we’ve found. We have literature they could read: we have books about love and sex, pamphlets about honesty and jealousy, magazines about design and architecture, websites about music and trends. We make the rules for this new religion of ours, so we recognize it’s not for everyone. The bottom line is that we’re inventing our fate together–we trust each others’ intuitions about right or wrong and not those of some long-deceased prophet from another time. It’s right for us to stand up against the injustice of the Historic Landmarks Commission, and not dilute the purity of our home’s modern design in anticipation of the city’s vanilla status quo.
The Mormons’ initial message was radical: of community and utopia. What has become of it? The ideals have been spread thin and have folded in on themselves: republicans where there were communists, suburban isolation where there was community. Now I have visions of my own micro-utopia in this city, and I don’t need to build a house on a hill downtown to realize it. It takes good friends. It takes honesty. It takes standing up for beliefs and believing in loved ones. No one I love should feel isolated or alone, and if I take that stand, maybe someone else will respond in kind. At that rate, I envision love spreading like a plague.
I’ve realized I’m glad that this city has turned the act of building our house into a bureaucratic nightmare. Because now it’s about more than just a house: my eyes are opened to the treachery of falling into group-think. I can see hypocrisy in beating the drum of garden-variety liberalism while opposing progressive, radical ideas. Our “liberal” neighbors are no better than the Bush-era republicans I so despise; so convinced of their mandates and closed to new ideas. No amount of shouting or protesting will change their minds. I’ve had to learn to do what I can to change things, to vote, to conserve, to love and to live, and to leave the rest to self-destruct on its own and not affect me. Realizing what I can’t change has been the hard part in all of my recent struggles. But we have to try–selectively, but always happily.