100!

YOU GUYS.

This is my 100th post!!! Un-freaking-believable. Wahoo!

So.. when's my party?!

;) Kidding. Sorta. I'm throwing a holiday party this weekend, so maybe I'll freak my friends out and put those fun number candles on the dessert and have them all think I'm crazy-nuts for celebrating my blog.

Heh. Only a little nuts.

Anyhoot. In honor of 100 posts, I wanted to share something I came across when going through my old hard drive a while back. I wrote it about two and a half years ago, a month or two before I made the move from Philly to DC. It's reflective, but it really showcased my feelings at the time.. some of which still resonate with me now.

"The niceties… the fake smiles, the routine waves, the repeated “Hi, how are you? I’m fine, thanks. Good to see you. Nice weather, isn’t it?” How mundane and routine and fake it all is. How boring. How much of a sham the awkward run-ins we all have are. You go to school with someone for 12 years and you see them on the street 5 years later and you either act like you never knew the person or you smile and say hello and pretend like you actually did. Neither of the reactions are right, or real... it’s all a sham. How awkward we all are when we are left to our own habits and imposed manners. I’ve worked in the hotel for almost 4 years now and I know everyone, know almost all their names, and that’s it. I know nothing but their names and their job titles. Isn’t that kind of sad?

There are still cliques, even after high school, after college, in the so called “real world.” I’ve been out of school for a year now and I’m still not sure when real life begins… none of us are.  Maybe it’s now, when I’m moving to a different city in a different state... actually the capital of the United States, with my boyfriend of 8 or 9 months… am I moving too fast? I don’t think so. This is what I always imagined real life would be like. I finally did it, finally graduated from college and have a wonderful man in my life who I feel I will marry, eventually, I am moving in with him and plan on going into massage therapy and possibly physical therapy, specifically for dancers, but then again, did I waste four years of my life? All that dancing… I miss it like you wouldn’t believe, miss it like I miss the water and the beach. I dream of being home but I know I must grow up and move on and actually take life by the horns, whatever that means, and get on with it. I hate to leave everyone behind, I grew to love Philadelphia, with all its bums and dirty streets and crime. Or should I say its absolute purity and beauty in the first month of spring, before the humidity and torture of summer put its burden upon those of us unfortunate enough to be without air conditioning… I love my little dollhouse trinity and my crazy cat and Rittenhouse Park and happy hour while it’s still light out and champagne and the gayborhood and the little coffee shop I’m in right now, just a few blocks away that always feel at home and welcoming. I like not having the internet, it forces me to go out and not stay cooped up in that trinity that I love. I love bar-b-ques and late night walks when its warm out and I actually enjoy my job, well usually, when I’m not there every day of the week and getting in trouble for nothing. I love Garth and Glenn and the crazy busboys. I love Armando and hate that I’m leaving, but he’s leaving too, for New York, where I suppose I’d almost rather be. You can’t compare Philly or D.C. to New York… you can’t compare anywhere to New York.

I always like to write but I never knew what to write. I hate writing essays, required ones that is, but I was always good at them. Sure I put it off till the last minute and changed my wording and entire idea a million and five times, but in the end, it always came out sounding decent. I have so much to offer and just don’t know how to go about offering it. I feel like I shock Scot everyday with what I do or know how to do or what I used to do or what I like doing… so many facets and so many talents… a Jack of all trades, if you will… how do I use that in the “real world?” There it is again… the real world. What is this real world? Is it a house and a car and a 9 – 5 job and all that? I’m not good with typical, I’m artsy, at least I like to think of myself in that way because essentially I am an artist at heart. How hard it is to cultivate every aspect and keep it fresh."

It seems like I got cut off mid-stream, but it really stirs something in me. Looking back.. I actually did some of the things I wrote about. And that in itself is actually so incredibly inspiring. It's also comforting to know that I can actually write semi-decently when I try.

I'm sure I could work this into a Reverb10 post somehow ;)

Have you ever looked back at your old writings? Did you feel inspired or still resonate with any of them?