Four William Faulkner novels sit at my left elbow [Absalom, Absalom!, Light in August, The Sound and the Fury, and The Hamlet], but my mind is everywhere else. I sit here thinking about how gross it is outside--what happened to that beautiful weather that let me walk around iin a tank top late last night?
Michigan is on its way onto my shit list. I'm dreaming of days spent next to the ocean, or at least just riding the public transpo in San Fran. Sitting on that grass in the hill of that park we stumbled across--some of the nicest grass, I'm telling you. And that's what Michigan is lacking right now: nice grass.
I've been fiending for some Washtenaw Dairy. Not really because I've been wanting ice cream, but I just miss that building with the uneven bricks painted an ugly beige. We used to walk there when I was in early elementary school--get those little things of vanilla ice cream in styrofoam containers, then eat it with those cheap wooden spoons
Sarah and I took this walk around town last night after she cut off a few inches of my hair. Honestly, I never see much point in paying for a haircut when it's a lot easier to find my sharpest pair of scissors and get someone to cut it evenly for me. Usually, it's a nice exercise for my heart either way. And, if it turned out particularly awful, I could always go get it fixed. Or, you know, go buy that Detroit Tigers hat that I've been wanting for a few months.
But we took this walk and I told her how funny it was to finally be able to leave Ann Arbor, how I feel like I've lived in three different Ann Arbors throughout my life.
I never thought I'd come back after I left it for high school, but I found myself in the places I've known all my life that felt and looked completely different. It's difficult to convey what it's like to be moved around like that without having a voice in the matter. Coming back to Ann Arbor after high school was one of the hardest things I ever did and it bothered me for years to be here. I still don't like going down into Pinball Pete's and you'd find it quite the feat to get me to play another game of airhockey down there. Well, maybe not now, but before.
It's nice to be in the process of leaving. The getting rid of things, dreaming of places to be--studying for the GRE so that I can have those scores on ice for the next few years so that I can apply when I'm good and ready. Downtown is changing. I still hate that they changed everything so it's two-way. It's probably the dumbest thing ever. Funny to think that we can never sit on that triangle that held the traffic lights in front of the State Theater, or that it takes about 586 times longer to cross the street.
Decker Drugs is long gone--replaced by a bright yellow storefront that now houses The Noodle Company. Even Ashley's painted the front of their store some ugly color--hopefully, it's only primer. Harry's Surplus is gone and done. The grandparent's are leaving--soon, there wont' be much family left in this town, just a lot of memories.
I've never understood the people who get so upset when their parents move, sell the house they've grown up in and relocate. Ten different places that I've called home in about twenty years--I'm a pro at packing. Maybe this is a sign that I need a more exciting life, like that of some international spy. I can be packed and gone in under seven minutes. The best thing I think I've learned is that home is not a building, it's a feeling.
Ok. Fuck this. Time to go to the bar. Who needs studying anyway? Faulkner can wait.
Michigan is on its way onto my shit list. I'm dreaming of days spent next to the ocean, or at least just riding the public transpo in San Fran. Sitting on that grass in the hill of that park we stumbled across--some of the nicest grass, I'm telling you. And that's what Michigan is lacking right now: nice grass.
I've been fiending for some Washtenaw Dairy. Not really because I've been wanting ice cream, but I just miss that building with the uneven bricks painted an ugly beige. We used to walk there when I was in early elementary school--get those little things of vanilla ice cream in styrofoam containers, then eat it with those cheap wooden spoons
Sarah and I took this walk around town last night after she cut off a few inches of my hair. Honestly, I never see much point in paying for a haircut when it's a lot easier to find my sharpest pair of scissors and get someone to cut it evenly for me. Usually, it's a nice exercise for my heart either way. And, if it turned out particularly awful, I could always go get it fixed. Or, you know, go buy that Detroit Tigers hat that I've been wanting for a few months.
But we took this walk and I told her how funny it was to finally be able to leave Ann Arbor, how I feel like I've lived in three different Ann Arbors throughout my life.
I never thought I'd come back after I left it for high school, but I found myself in the places I've known all my life that felt and looked completely different. It's difficult to convey what it's like to be moved around like that without having a voice in the matter. Coming back to Ann Arbor after high school was one of the hardest things I ever did and it bothered me for years to be here. I still don't like going down into Pinball Pete's and you'd find it quite the feat to get me to play another game of airhockey down there. Well, maybe not now, but before.
It's nice to be in the process of leaving. The getting rid of things, dreaming of places to be--studying for the GRE so that I can have those scores on ice for the next few years so that I can apply when I'm good and ready. Downtown is changing. I still hate that they changed everything so it's two-way. It's probably the dumbest thing ever. Funny to think that we can never sit on that triangle that held the traffic lights in front of the State Theater, or that it takes about 586 times longer to cross the street.
Decker Drugs is long gone--replaced by a bright yellow storefront that now houses The Noodle Company. Even Ashley's painted the front of their store some ugly color--hopefully, it's only primer. Harry's Surplus is gone and done. The grandparent's are leaving--soon, there wont' be much family left in this town, just a lot of memories.
I've never understood the people who get so upset when their parents move, sell the house they've grown up in and relocate. Ten different places that I've called home in about twenty years--I'm a pro at packing. Maybe this is a sign that I need a more exciting life, like that of some international spy. I can be packed and gone in under seven minutes. The best thing I think I've learned is that home is not a building, it's a feeling.
Ok. Fuck this. Time to go to the bar. Who needs studying anyway? Faulkner can wait.
1 Comments:
i'm one of those people who will be upset when my parents sell our house. they have 3 gone.. only 2 more kids to shoo out. and after that, the house that once housed 7 will be occupied by only 2... quite a depressing thought for them. so they'll get rid of it. and with that thought, we're thinking quickly about which kid has to be the one that keeps it. i'm assigning right now: Gabe. .. this may require holly living in my childhood home for the rest of my life, but i'm willing to sacrifice that for the memories to be preserved.
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