Posts Tagged ‘nostalgia’

This weekend was me and Tina’s going away party with all our friends. I’d been hoping all week it wouldn’t rain and I got my wish. It was a bit toasty out but we had some cold beer. We grilled out, made sangria, played with kittens, shot off fireworks, and had a bonfire with marshmellows. It was pretty amazing.

On Sunday after waking up on the ground outside since me and Franklin decided to sleep by the fire, I groggily got up and went to Aunt Freda and Uncle Tommy’s. We were supposed to be looking at Rachel’s wedding pictures and I figured we have some sort of minor hurrah for me. Apparently it was all for me, which was nice and pretty surprising. Andrew thought I was lame for believing the excuse to get me there, oh well. We celebrated all the holidays I’m going to miss – Thanksgiving dinner, then christmas and birthday presents, then birthday cake with 23 candles for my birthday in April. It was really fantastic. I got some goodies to help me in Taiwan.

The weekend continued with mini-golf with Steve and MaryBeth and Rachel. I scored something in the abysmal 70s. If it takes me longer than 4-5 putts I get frustrated and start just smacking the ball, which doesn’t make for a great score.

Its weird that the departure deadline is close enough now that everything is a last time. I kind of hate that. I want to soak in Nashville a smidge more. I need more pint nights at Flying Saucer. I need more exhibits at Cheekwood. I need more fried pickles from Rotiers, and late night wanderings through Vandy. I need more smoky shows at Mercy Lounge and dinners at Las Palmas. I don’t have enough stored up yet. I need more balderdash, and donuts, and afternoons sitting silently with coffee and newspapers at a wide assortment of coffeeshops. I need my printshop and Grimey’s and the ducks I feed in Centennial. Will they all fit in a suitcase?

Becoming a bit sentimental with the departure of Franklin. I’ll see him next year. Damn thats a long time. Bit of a painful spot left from the separation. Not everything can be easy.

But moving on, a bit of a lyric that came on the morning I graduated as I frantically ran around my room looking for shoes. Pertinent to moving on, doing things, and searching out hidden remnants of paths I might like to wander down…

“We emerged from youth all wide-eyed like the rest. Shedding skin faster than skin can grow, and armed with hammers, feathers, blunt knives: words, to meet and to define and to… but you must know the same games that we played in dirt, in dusty school yards has found a higher pitch and broader scale than we feared possible…The first chapters of lives almost made us give up altogether. Pushed towards tired forms of self immolation that seemed so original. I must, we must never stop watching the sky with our hands in our pockets, stop peering in windows when we know doors are shut. Stop yelling small stories and bad jokes and sorrows, and my voice will scratch to yell many more, but before I spill the things I mean to hide away, or gouge my eyes with platitudes of sentiment, I’ll drown the urge for permanence and certainty; crouch down and scrawl my name with yours in wet cement. ”

-The Weakerthans, Sounds Familliar

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