Make a Life Worth Remembering (When They Reminisce Over You)

Who wants to sleep in the city that never wakes up
Blinded by nostalgia?...
She said, "I want to sleep in the city that never wakes up
And revel in nostalgia."

-"Old Yellow Bricks" by Arctic Monkeys

I came home from Pittsburgh/Ohio late last night. Usually, upon my return home from Pittsburgh, I feel refreshed. A few days visiting old college friends, bumming around the city and reminiscing is usually the cure for what ails me.

This time, I think the nostalgia may be the thing pulling me down.

Maybe it was because I spent more time there than usual. Most of the time, I’m in town for 3-5 days at maximum. This time, I stayed for six days – I arrived in town Friday night and stayed until Wednesday evening. That’s a long time away from home.

Maybe it was the weather. It rained the whole way home, like it did each of the two and a half days we were camping in the middle of Bumblef…er, Logan, Ohio. I just so happened to follow the storm the whole way back to Delaware.

Maybe it was all the driving. Between driving back from Logan to Pittsburgh, then around Pittsburgh, then from Pittsburgh back to Newark (while leaving the city in rush hour traffic), my guess is I spent over 10 hours behind the wheel on Wednesday, at least six of which was by myself. I normally don’t mind driving because it gives me a chance to listen to music or some radio shows, but 10 hours will drive a person mad. My buddy Vince drove all 12 hours on our trip to Champaign, IL last January (and another 12 back), and now I know how insane that is.

Maybe (and I can’t believe I’m saying this) I’ve been off from work too much. My job offered voluntary unpaid time off for the last two weeks I had before my trip, so I worked half the time I usually did each week. Then, I went away to Pittsburgh, and I don’t return to work until Tuesday. I may treasure my time off, but sweet mercy, I might forget where my office is next week.

Maybe I’ve gone up too often. I was last in Pittsburgh in the beginning of March and I’ll be up a third time this coming July, if all goes according to plan. Sometimes, absence makes the heart blah blah de blah.

Maybe…I’m just over it all.

I’ve been awfully melancholy these past few weeks for whatever reason, so perhaps you can chalk it up to that, but it’s possible that after four years of college and two years of regularly visiting, Pittsburgh and I have run its course.

I truly hope this isn’t the case. I’ve met some of the most wonderful people in that city, including the co-writer of this blog, and it holds a special place in my heart. Every couple weeks, as I trudge through my day job and dream of escaping for greener pastures, I consider just dropping everything and moving back to Pittsburgh.

It could be like having a terrible vacation or a terrible round of golf, though. You could shank every ball into the trees, hit every sand trap, and take a bath in the lake for 17 holes, but if you hit a pretty drive or birdie just one hole, you’ll remember that round fondly and it’ll sucker you into coming back.

Likewise, it’s possible that I’ve been so locked into the unattainable expectations I’ve set for Pittsburgh that I can only be disappointed. It’s not as if I didn’t enjoy myself this past week. On the contrary, everything I did was fun and it was wonderful to see so many old friends. Furthermore, it’s certainly not because I have any great shakes waiting for me at home. Sure, I have my show Friday night and seeing my roommates again is good after a week. But it’s not like I’m coming home to my family or my girlfriend or my dog or something. I don’t have an anchor here in Newark.

Nevertheless, on the way home, something didn’t sit right with me. And I haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly what. It’s possible that looking back too much, or waiting for life to open the next path for me, is leaving me anxious.

On the camping trip, I met Rebecca’s friends Jay and Brenna. They were nice people, fun to meet and easy to get along with. Jay’s a paramedic and clearly passionate about his work. He spent most of the weekend talking about the different counties his unit covered, the different horror stories and mind-numbingly dumb patients he encountered, and how proud he was to do the work he does.

I don’t have that passion. Not for one particular thing right now. I like playing music, but I’ll never be a touring musician. I love sports and radio, but clearly not enough to leave my cozy spot at Super Corporation Inc. to pursue it. I love hanging out with friends, but as this weekend proved to me, even partying can eventually wear on you. All my stories are from the past. Things my friends and I did while we were bored, or drinking, or both. My stories are regressive, not progressive.

It seems, as my co-blogger put it this weekend, that I’m just stuck.

The thing I have to remember, though, is that no one is going to break me out of this slump but myself.  So often, I’ve waited for “the right time” to do something. The right time to move. The right time to take a job. The right time to make a move on a girl. The right time to this. The right time to that. The right time to the other thing.

I think I’ve used that as an excuse to settle and do nothing for far too long. For it to not be “the right time” for something means you’re afraid to get hurt. Well, here I am, Mr. Patient and Rational, and I don’t know if “hurt” is the right word, but I damn well don’t feel swell, and I’m too damn old to be writing like a 15 year old emo kid who just got turned down by his first high school crush.

I will turn things around. Whether it’s in Newark, Pittsburgh, West Chester, Indianapolis or Nantucket, I will turn things around, and I will take control. Just you wait.

-Matt