I've written about this before, elsewhere, but that song "Know it All" by Lagwagon always takes me back to 2006. I graduated school that May, took a trip that July, moved back to my parent's house in August as my lease at my college house ran out, moved to Providence Rhode Island for about two months in October for the company training program, and then moved to Seattle to begin work at the end of November.
I guess it was the first or second Friday that I was there, I found myself up late in my hotel (excuse me, "temporary living"), drinking a can of Bud Light and listening to that Lagwagon song on YouTube. I started thinking about Athens and home and everything that had happened this year already.
It's funny, the things you remember. What seems significant after the fact, and what doesn't. Earlier today I was talking to my dad about the last fishing trip I took in Destin, last August. I said "You know, we got out there, it was really hot, I started feeling sick, hadn't slept much the night before, and was really feeling bad. We weren't catching any fish either. We were about 40 miles out, right around the edge of the continental shelf. And it's funny, I remember being irritated that we weren't catching anything then, I was a little bent out of shape about it. But looking back, I don't remember it for that reason. I was kind of mad at that moment, but even by the next day I didn't really care...."
I tend to remember things more favorably after the fact that I experience them, if that makes sense.
I didn't like my first place in Seattle very much. It was actually in Renton, and I didn't care for the neighborhood. I was so happy that I only signed a six month lease there and was overjoyed at the prospect of moving out. There was so much street noise outside that I spent the last two months or so that I lived there sleeping on my couch. How silly is that? Looking back at it though, I remember how nice it was to come home and build a fire in my fireplace. I remember how the shower had a small window about five feet up the wall that you were supposed to slide open while you bathed, to allow the steam to escape. When I first moved in, I was getting up around 6:30a each morning for work. I remember I'd crack that window open in the shower and feel the frigid January air hitting my wet face. I'd stare out the window at the cars driving down the street, it was still "night" time outside. I'm glad I can remember the place for that and not for the Sunday morning when I lay on my couch, listening to my neighbors screaming at each other, five or six different voices, and wondering if there would be a weapon involved at any point. I'm glad that I remember the Saturday night sushi dinners I used to eat in my dark living room, illuminated only by the fire and the movie on television and not the street bikes that would wake me up in the middle of the night.
I remember laying on that couch, watching the flames flicker in the fireplace and scheming about ways to move back home. I thought about the line from opening of "Lucky Number Sleven" that went "Guy wants what the fellas call a sure thing, so he schemes to make it so." And I thought that I was going to make going back home a "sure thing", because I missed it. I missed what I remembered.
Now, I miss living up there. Not Renton as much as Seattle, the second place I lived. I'm glad that I remember the long walks in the evening and the scenery, not the horrible traffic or passive aggressive mentality of that city. I'm glad I miss the city living, not having to find a place to park on the street when you're exhausted at the end of the day. I'm glad that I miss the fun I had, not the frustration of trying to learn how to do my job.
I'm glad when I listen to "Know it All", I remember 2006 for its ups, and not its downs. There were plenty of the latter. It had to be the most up and down year of my life. But I remember the ups. And of the downs, I appreciate what it took to get through those.
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