I'm Not Mad Anymore!
As I close out 10 of the hardest (and oddly most joyful) days of my life so far I have to reflect on something I discovered at a bar last night.
I'm not mad anymore. Specifically, I am no longer mad at my hometown. I don't hate it and I guess I haven't for a long time. I guess that hating it here was such a huge part of who I thought I was that I hadn't really examined it for a long time. No. I don't want to live here, but I have found that there are some things I like about being here. Oddly enough, I am learning to really like the people here.
I had a nice drink at a popular watering hole last night and talked it up with some locals who were neither impressed nor resentful of my Big City Life. We laughed about the Starbucks in town, talked about the basic goodness of human beings, tousled (politely, of course) about Iraq and economic possibilities for this care worn town, and then we wished each other well. As I left them I couldn't help but wonder what the fuck it was I have been trying to prove and to whom was I trying to prove it? Small town girl makes good? What a lot of bull. Truth is, I left and went where I wanted to go. To the folks around here that is as good as it gets. I've already succeeded. So what the hell is all this whining about?
Okay. So there were some things about this environment that made my adolesence here a living hell- but I also got to have a tremendous amount of freedom and ran into some seriously interesting people. Being from this struggling and barren place has taught me so much and I am actually feeling grateful for the experience. I'm glad I could hang out with my friends in the woods, huddling around fire pits and sucking down sodas while we navigated the trecherous waters of teenage desires. I'm glad I had all night dives with crappy, watered down coffee to call home. Especially when there are in close proximity to bars loaded with colorful characters that would spill over into our caffeine drenched hang outs. I'm glad I was so close to labor struggles, farmers, and a thriving interstate drug trade. (Never took part in that, but learned a lot from watching those who did) I'm glad I grew up knowing people who said things like "so I says to her I says" and "Oh gosh, no!". People who wear fancy sweatshirts and eat donuts and think a size 12 is fetching! No. I'm not mad anymore.
I actually feel quite good.
I'm not mad anymore. Specifically, I am no longer mad at my hometown. I don't hate it and I guess I haven't for a long time. I guess that hating it here was such a huge part of who I thought I was that I hadn't really examined it for a long time. No. I don't want to live here, but I have found that there are some things I like about being here. Oddly enough, I am learning to really like the people here.
I had a nice drink at a popular watering hole last night and talked it up with some locals who were neither impressed nor resentful of my Big City Life. We laughed about the Starbucks in town, talked about the basic goodness of human beings, tousled (politely, of course) about Iraq and economic possibilities for this care worn town, and then we wished each other well. As I left them I couldn't help but wonder what the fuck it was I have been trying to prove and to whom was I trying to prove it? Small town girl makes good? What a lot of bull. Truth is, I left and went where I wanted to go. To the folks around here that is as good as it gets. I've already succeeded. So what the hell is all this whining about?
Okay. So there were some things about this environment that made my adolesence here a living hell- but I also got to have a tremendous amount of freedom and ran into some seriously interesting people. Being from this struggling and barren place has taught me so much and I am actually feeling grateful for the experience. I'm glad I could hang out with my friends in the woods, huddling around fire pits and sucking down sodas while we navigated the trecherous waters of teenage desires. I'm glad I had all night dives with crappy, watered down coffee to call home. Especially when there are in close proximity to bars loaded with colorful characters that would spill over into our caffeine drenched hang outs. I'm glad I was so close to labor struggles, farmers, and a thriving interstate drug trade. (Never took part in that, but learned a lot from watching those who did) I'm glad I grew up knowing people who said things like "so I says to her I says" and "Oh gosh, no!". People who wear fancy sweatshirts and eat donuts and think a size 12 is fetching! No. I'm not mad anymore.
I actually feel quite good.
posted by Bree O'Connor at 7:33 PM
6 Comments:
While I haven't quite had a homecoming experience nearly like yours, I can relate to the lessening animosity felt toward the people of my own hometown. I have a damn good life, so there's not much point in remaining angry at the people who tormented me for being a wierdo genius.
You know, it is really nice to hear that you have a damn good life. Really. Makes me smile.
Albert Lea has drugs? Aw, man. I guess I should be glad I missed that part.
I never liked going back. But then again, I haven't had anything to go back to since 1997 or so.
Really, the only thing I miss from there is Big Apple pizza. Which is a bit ironic, given my current dislike for "real" New York pizza.
Welcome back.
Oh yeah, baby- coke, pot, crystal meth- nothing like the party down in A-Town!
Well, I guess my crack was the donut shop. I went through withdrawal when they closed it down. :( Had to find another supplier. In A.L., the only thing left was Winchell's (sp?) or the HyVee bakery.
Both of which, I might add, are better than the crappy Dunkin' Donuts out here. And Krispy Kreme is WAY too sugary. Something THAT sugar-coated must be evil.
The donuts here suck. No two ways about it. The Donut Hut has some rockin' donuts back in A-Town, but in NYC you are out of luck. New York is the place for bagels. In Minnesota, we know donuts.
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