Tuesday, April 12, 2005

September. Ninety Seven.

I have an old suitcase I bought at the thrift store a long time ago. It looks like something a traveler from the 1950's would carry, it has a lot of character. I fill this suitcase with special mementos of my years. Stuff: like, a little bitty bag of what is now dust of mushrooms (REALLY good mushrooms) that my roommates and I ate it's dated: "1996". No need to label, I KNOW what it is. I remember. My old college ID, an ocelot hide, VIP passes, crystals, pictures, notes, letters, 8-mm video tapes, an "official" puked on Terrible Towel, and my journals are just a few of the things I keep in my old trunk of memories.

I drug it out because I was looking for a particular picture, I got sidetracked and started reading my OLD journals. Old journals are always good for a little insight. Besides having acquired a more positive attitude through the years (uh, I think), I think am pretty much the same. Please excuse me, the writing's a bit old school.

Here is one entry that really made me tingle. It's about me and my twenty-something life. I had just moved back to Ohio after graduation and a horrid breakup.

Maybe it's one of those Chrstine things. They say I'm in left field with some of the ideas I dream up. I probably wouldn't have a problem if I wasn't so scared of everything. I was talking to a friend and I can't commit to working seven days a week for cash. I am spoiled that my Mario's (Mario's is a restaurant in Pittsburgh I worked at, for four years while I was in college) days are over, and that I'm not coming home after working three days with the month's rent in hand.

I miss that old hell hole. the yelling from Bob, the stupid frat boys puking all over the floor, Ray and the pocket rockets, Cecil looking for his tip, Hal telling all the bitches to straighten up, Nat's down home advice and her obsession for having "nice lady like" arches, sexy little Laura the shot girl- looking for that phat tipping table, Meeting rock stars and serving Jack to Penguins & Steelers, Talking art with Johno, and grand larceny (not the game, it wasn't invented yet) with Carl and ESPECIALLY - the best part, joining Mila on the balcony for an overview of the night's cuties.

Hmm, and that's just at work. I had even more fun times out of work. Jumping in the car to go to Tele-Ropa, The Red, White and Blue, The Carniege library, and coming home to my apartment watering plants and being in time for Oprah, while the evening sun casts a shadow on another Pittsburgh day. Looking into the sky and seeing the Goodyear Blimp hovering over Three Rivers Stadium, The "T" that comes rumbling down my street, The old blind guy that always tried to grab Lindsay's tits, the lady that smells like old fryer grease and talks in Japanese as I'm starving on my way home from school.

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