Last One on the Blog Train

For those who know the back story from this blog, my ex and I were on shaky ground in 2006. Actually it was more like when California sank into the ocean during the movie 2012. We had broken up in March, but due to his financial situation he couldn't "move out" (read: take his shit somewhere) and would be seen all over the city at odd times and doing odd things....Whitney Houston had nothing on him.

Anywho, during this time one of that core group of 6 (that I became the seventh of) offered me sanctuary in the form of that key. If I ever needed to get away, collect my thoughts, or was just looking to escape, that was my open invitation. It was, and still remains, a very grand gesture by someone in my social circles. I never used it, but that key was like my membership card.

New York.....left Starbucks.....job hopping.....bad habits...cut out.....bad roommate.....laid off.....moved home (the past 59 blogs in a nutshell).

My social circle is now very limited and really looks like work more times than not. I don't do the scene in DC due to my current and amazing partner. I did not come back the same person and I was a stranger to everyone, or so I felt and continue to feel. My life is full of school and gym and work that I hardly think of the "good old days," but when I do its usually with a mix of fondness and the same skepticism of looking at an optical illusion or the Mona Lisa. It was what it was; I contained it in my 20s, and can't do anything but face forward.

But that key is still in my backpack. I had a minor falling out with the person who gave it to me while I was in NYC, and then reconciled once I moved back, but we've gone to friends to "we used to hang out" and neither of us skip a beat. I should have given the key back. Or it probably doesn't fit any of the locks now. It has a new purpose. It reminds me of my sordid past, but it also is a glaring representation of my inability to let go. I have made the decision time and time again to not throw the key out. Like one day while walking or driving DC I'm just going to hang a right on 16th and head up like the last four years didn't happen.

But boy did they happen. I think those were my most formative years so far. I accomplished the goal of moving to NYC, but learned that it's OK to throw in the towel and move back. I learned the no matter how thick you think friendships are, they are all only one misunderstanding and one unplaced phone call away from breaking apart. I learned to finally not care about rumors people may say about me, especially if I never see those who passed it around in the first place. Finally, I learned, or realized, that my life (I don't know about anyone else's) is like a book of short stories. They may all have the same author, and maybe the same theme, but they all also have their own beginning, middle and end with their own cast of characters. I move on very (all most too) easily. My friends today are people I've met within the past 20 months. I have no desire to ever go to a high school reunion and I rarely make the effort to talk to fraternity brothers.

It's like I have a past, but I don't come with history, or a mythology. I feel like nothing I do or am involved in today is a derivative of something I did in my 20s.

It's not really a bad thing though. Life seems uncluttered. Of people, of anniversaries, of needless phone calls; I'm able to stay focused.

Some may think that I'm an asshole or very untrusting of others or that I don't care. I'm really not asshole-ic unless necessary. I trust people and let them in all the time and I do care, but I also realize that I can't waste time trying to keep tabs on where I've been that's a lot of luggage.

So I think I'll toss the key now.