In a little over a month, I will be moving from Lexington, Kentucky to Boston, Massachusetts. I was conceived, born and raised in Wilmore, Kentucky. Wilmore has a population of about 4,000 and is home to Asbury University and Theological Seminary.Needless to say, it is a small southern christian town. I was raised outside of Wilmore city limits in the palisades of the Kentucky River,a holler called High Bridge. I learned skills in agriculture, hunting, tracking, fishing, construction, any out door, or tomboyish activity my parents would let me do. I grew up learning to work hard and dream big. If i wanted a go-cart, four wheeler, horses, play stations or wood for a club house, I earned it by working . I like to say that I was spoiled ripe but not rotten.
Any who, fast forward to 2014. I met a woman at my cousin’s wedding and about 5 months later (remaining persistent for a Skype date) I fell in love with her. She is in Boston,I am in Lexington, KY (pretty much a paradise in my book) and May 18th will be the end our long-distance relationship. I got this nifty summer internship at an intentional community in Boston, I will be gardening and cooking. I am leaving my home state of Kentucky. I am leaving behind a state full of people that I love, a city, Lexington, which is full of vibrancy and diversity. My parent’s will be missed the most. My mother is a strong, loving, and caring woman, she just celebrated four years of sobriety and will be celebrating her 64th birthday tomorrow. My father is a hard headed, stubborn-willed man that has many health issues, and is a purple heart Vietnam veteran, he turned 68 last month. I am a sufferer of “Borderline Personality Disorder”, personally, I think the labels of disorders are bullshit and medication (especially at the YOUNG age I was) is more harmful than helpful. Sigh, it is not for me to question why, it is for me to do and die.
Calling Boston health care professionals really sent me into anxiety.The accents were high-pitched scraggly sounding on women and what I would imagine to be a drunkenly stammered corner speak accent from the men, either gender sent my blood pressure soaring. However, I found to be that most of them were just assholes, except two or three helpful operators. You see, I realize now, they probably weren’t being assholes. Direct and blunt are associated in the south with an infectious disease known as “douche-syndrome”.Naturally, their accents and the direct nature of their dialogue had created a fear in my mind that Boston is just a polite way to say “Doucheville”. In Kentucky, small talk is considered a social must and to neglect that social rule, you would look like an asshole, when I try to practice the southern “small talk” culture in Boston I look like an asshole.
For instance, my first time in Boston, I thought that this lady forgot to pay for a ride on the bus and me being half deaf, I thought the bus driver told her to go up front and pay. I didn’t know you could pay as you got off, like a nice southern lad, I got her attention to remind her she hadn’t paid, I thought I was being helpful, really I was just being an ass hole. Pretty excited to learn about a different culture, not excited about culture-shock though.
Item to check off of my bucket list:
Exchange Southern Comfort for Southern Misfit.
So let me officially introduce myself,
I am Cee Byrd (Southern Misfit)