I’m still easing into this blogging thing. I like having a place to house the thoughts that have been occupying huge areas of my brain lately, but I don’t like the constant impostor feeling. The nagging sense that some phantom reader is judging the content, questioning the point, and doubting my qualifications when I throw out some half-baked critique of something else.
In some ways, these fears are silly… there are too few people reading this blog for it to really matter anyway. But in other ways, I think these concerns are important. They arise not just from generalized insecurity (though I’ll admit there is much of that), but also a legitimate feeling of outsider-dom.
I write about sticking around, but in truth I’ve yet to shed the inner nomad. I’ve lived in Ann Arbor for only a year so far (though this is my third non-consecutive year here). I write as much or more about Detroit than Ann Arbor, but I don’t live in Detroit at all… I’ve never even spent a night there. I’m drawn to the idea of staying put, but I haven’t really done it. I’m fascinated by Detroit, but as a weekender.
Sometimes I think about moving to Detroit, but then wonder if that would still count as sticking around? Probably not. And I’m not really ready to give up my job or my house anyway. And even if I were a resident, I would still be a kind of outsider – white & relatively affluent with bougie tastes… I’m worlds away from the average Detroit resident’s experience.
And so I must resign myself to the outsider role for now. I think that’s ok, as long as I don’t pretend to be anything else. I’m a girl exploring my surroundings, trying to connect and, at some point belong.
Lingerlust 