Friday

Two weeks ago we finally got some plants. Buying plants is just one in a long list of paradoxes we strive to accomplish to keep us sane. Not that buying a plant is a paradox in itself, of course. Buying a plant is a nice way to beautify the home, regulate its atmosphere, and add a muddy, character-building daily routine to whatever else is going on. What is important here, to us, is the touch of life plants can add to the soulless and sharper image of our frequent corporate housing. We were once told the best thing to do when moving around every other year was to make each new house look as much like the last ones as possible--fooling the subconscious into believing the contents of these places constitute some kind of roots. Accordingly, we try to display our decorations in every house (three so far) by putting the same things in similar locations. This makes those locations seem more alike. Therefore, the newness of a place stops at the front door--or at least that's the theory. Plants are a part of this: we like to look around and see plants. We did it before. The paradox comes here: given the relatively universal restrictions on importing agricultural specimens, we have to lose these plants every single time we move away again. So we get them to make our house feel like our home, we nurture them for twenty months or so, and then we have to find a home for them. All so we can start the cycle again somewhere else (where? In Belgrade? Maybe Sarajevo?). It can be an emotionally abusive system for me, nursing little plants into big ones only to start again in the next place. Apparently it keeps me sane. [Cavin]