Last week I went back to the town that I used to work in for the first time in over 6 months. Strange as it may seem, I felt oddly nostalgic for the surroundings of my old job, though not the actual building, my sentiments for which are recorded earlier in this very blog.
The creeping nostalgia began as I got on the I-5. After months of trolling up and down 50 and 80, I was struck by the recollection of crossing the causeway on foggy mornings, partially awake and very grumpy. Living in Midtown and working in Woodland was my first taste of commuting, and I hated it with every bicycle loving fiber of my being. And yet I caught myself thinking with near-fondness of my trial-and-error theories for selecting the best exits and routes.
I cruised into Woodland and observed the scenery during the long stop-lights at key intersections that I had resented so vehemently in bygone days. I was surprised to feel the first inklings of the strange exposed feeling that I get in my hometown Dixon, and to some degree, post-college era Davis. When I’ve lived somewhere and left it, I feel weirdly guilty, (or potentially just embarrassed) to be back there. Thus I shuffle with great stealth around the Safeway of my youth.
So I felt nostalgic about my old-town-of-work, and it was brought to my attention afterward that we might have lived there, if I had gotten that newspaper job back last September. (Remember kids, I didn’t get that job because my car alarm went off without cease in the parking lot for two hours, not because I was under-qualified). Probably in some raunchy duplex, making peanuts and writing Peanuts (the comic, because I think journalists in regional papers just write it themselves to save money).
What is the point of this tirade? Only that things are very strange, and I might have lived in a town that now makes me feel equal parts embarrassed and nostalgic.
The creeping nostalgia began as I got on the I-5. After months of trolling up and down 50 and 80, I was struck by the recollection of crossing the causeway on foggy mornings, partially awake and very grumpy. Living in Midtown and working in Woodland was my first taste of commuting, and I hated it with every bicycle loving fiber of my being. And yet I caught myself thinking with near-fondness of my trial-and-error theories for selecting the best exits and routes.
I cruised into Woodland and observed the scenery during the long stop-lights at key intersections that I had resented so vehemently in bygone days. I was surprised to feel the first inklings of the strange exposed feeling that I get in my hometown Dixon, and to some degree, post-college era Davis. When I’ve lived somewhere and left it, I feel weirdly guilty, (or potentially just embarrassed) to be back there. Thus I shuffle with great stealth around the Safeway of my youth.
So I felt nostalgic about my old-town-of-work, and it was brought to my attention afterward that we might have lived there, if I had gotten that newspaper job back last September. (Remember kids, I didn’t get that job because my car alarm went off without cease in the parking lot for two hours, not because I was under-qualified). Probably in some raunchy duplex, making peanuts and writing Peanuts (the comic, because I think journalists in regional papers just write it themselves to save money).
What is the point of this tirade? Only that things are very strange, and I might have lived in a town that now makes me feel equal parts embarrassed and nostalgic.
1 comment:
i heard on the radio that the circus is coming to woodland - but I can't find anything online. do you know of such an event? the circus fascinates me (as does woodland), although it also might depress me (as does woodland). do you and kev want to go if its real??...and not too expensive of course??
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