Life in Southern California is Like No Other

21 January 2000 Friday ~8:55 pm

“One of the oddities of life in Southern California was the sense of timelessness that set in.  There were no real seasons in California and each day was about like the last one.  People were probably startled out here to find that they’d aged.”

— from Small Vices by Robert B. Parker, p. 217

22 January 2000 Saturday ~early AM

I love being home with my parents, but it makes me kind of sad just the same.  I guess being here reminds me all too much of the brevity of life, of how my parents and I have aged,  separately.  Being in Atlanta makes me yearn for some aspects of my younger life.  I want to ride through the quiet night with my brother at the wheel, to see a movie or hang with some friends.  I am also reminded of my high school sadness and depressions, of my nights of lonely driving, taking endless wrong turns, stretching one more Pink Floyd track or WREK evening into the early dawn.

My sense of loss is proportionately greater here as well.  When I’m home, like no other time, I feel trapped in a time warp — a place where time never unloops, and it is always 1988 or 1989.  Highschool was a lonely time for me, and I think I’m seldom so reminded of this as when I am at home.

I’m listening now to the demo that my brother’s band put together.  I am reminded of nothing so much as my nights alone, out taking in shows here as a teenager.

I love my parents, and I value my chance to be home with them — but, but, BUT this place brings up entirely too many sad, painful memories for me to stay here for very long.

I’m here not even two days, and already I’ve returned solidly to the sad, chaotic, lonely time of my high school existence.

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