I'm back in the mountains tonight. It's an odd feeling. The place is still intertwined with the good and bad that came from spending most of my childhood here. Coming back up here has also reminded me of how horrible it feels to be stagnating. Even when on vacation the fact of stagnation eats at my being. I'm not particularly pleased with doing nothing. That's not to say I don't still play my guitar and read and write while I'm here. I just don't feel like those things lead anywhere.
The nature of this place is isolation. If I produce something of worth here, it is of no worth to the rest of the world, mostly because it doesn't ever get to the rest of the world. Basically I am reminded of the futility I felt while growing up. Many of the things I'm feeling now about this place are no longer true. I no longer have any responsibilities in this place, and no longer do I have to wait to get out. If I so chose I could leave tomorrow. That is a liberating thing to know. But just because I can leave doesn't make the memory of being stuck any more pleasant.
Ultimately that is what this place reminds me of, ambition caged by circumstance. I hadn't returned here for the longest time for just that reason. All I was reminded of was the sick feeling that I was capable of more than I was allowed to do.
Being back isn't as bad as I had anticipated, and I am willing to put up with my feelings of stagnation and confinement for a while. I don't so mind the situation when untethered, but I doubt I'll ever remove the feelings that made me hate this place. I doubt the things that I never got because I grew up here rather than somewhere more open will stop haunting me. I doubt that I'll ever grow to love this place. Maybe I'll grow to feel indifferent, maybe I'll be able to see this place objectively sometime, but that time hasn't come. For now I just marvel at the natural beauty and the way that so many of these people surrounded by it are utterly ugly in comparison.