get me out of here
there comes a time when you reach saturation with a place like baltimore. it happens when you live in the best of cities--i've had the same feeling with new york, with london--but with baltimore the necessity of escape becomes visceral, tangible, all kinds of SAT words. i could feel it coming, made inevitable by the events of the last few days, most notably terry's car wreck. i don't know if i should call it a car wreck--can i call it "terry's car wreck" if he was nowhere near the poor, fated '99 pontiac sunfire when it was destroyed? whatever. the point is, the feeling is here, and i'm not the only one feeling it.
how shall i describe it? i want to convey that it's a feels like needing to be away from the city, away from pavement and amublances and muggers; of wanting to breathe clean air and be under a tree that isn't surrounded by sidewalk; of wanting your sweater to smell like campfire and leaves. i want to say all this but not sound like some fucking tree-hugging hippie. then again, i do all my shopping at whole foods. lucky for me, even though it's organic, whole foods is more "yuppie" than "hippie." and i am, by definition, no matter how much the 18 year old queer with blue finger nail polish living inside me protests, a young urban professional.
at this point, i'd like you to scroll down to my entry, "shaken and stirred," and read the comments. "chiquita," as she prefers to be called in webland, is near the end of her rope with this city, and i'm right behind her. so many factors contribute to my mood: relentless thoughts of the past, uncertainties about the future, and impending car payments in the present. i can't help but feel like terry and andrea, and all the rest of us, are all banded together; daily we go into battle against the rest of the world, our little platoon suffering losses but refusing to give up the fight.
posted by Robert @ Wednesday, February 02, 2005
4 comments
4 Comments:
And the kicker is it may not be anything special--rather, we may simply be feeling the effects of being twentysomethings in transitional stages in both our professional and personal lives. This grey cloud may be purely symptomatic of being alive a little over two decades.
The question then becomes--does it end? Does growing up and moving on help settle the dust? Or must we, like my mother, wait for our proverbial menopause to stop feeling such hot flashes?
In too deep today, sorry.
i, too, attmepted to leave a post, and it failed. this isn't the internet--it is a dictatorship!
and sadly, you took away your comments.
what i had said, or observed, was that i am afraid that all of this melancholy and doubt we write about may not be anything special--it may simply be a product of us having lived a little over two decades. the curse of the twentysomething. i hope it isn't that simple, but i have my suspicions that we may have to wait until our metaphorical menapause until we can quit these hot flashes.
i, too, attmepted to leave a post, and it failed. this isn't the internet--it is a dictatorship!
and sadly, you took away your comments.
what i had said, or observed, was that i am afraid that all of this melancholy and doubt we write about may not be anything special--it may simply be a product of us having lived a little over two decades. the curse of the twentysomething. i hope it isn't that simple, but i have my suspicions that we may have to wait until our metaphorical menapause until we can quit these hot flashes.
You and I aren't the first people to make this observance: two years ago (give or take) oprah had on a bunch of mid-20-year-olds and was talking about a new phenomenon called the quarter-life crisis. at the time i made fun of it. now i'm starting to wonder...
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