It’s funny to think anyone could become attached to a quasi-ghetto old row house in the middle of South Oakland, a college neighborhood in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. But I think I have — or at least I have in the sense that it is the place I’ve come to know intimately over the past five years.
On Sunday, as I sat on my front porch looking out towards the Cathedral of Learning as it graced the blue-gray sky (because truly sunny days are hard to come by in Pittsburgh), I thought to myself, “This is it. Thanks for being good to me, college.”
Through my last week in Pittsburgh, it was nice to get the hugs, the handshakes, the text messages, and the often unsaid “thanks” stemming from the last five years over the last few days. It made me feel as though, more than any club created, article written, or argument made, I had fielded deep-seeded friendships that I hope will continue long after my time at Pitt, much less this side of the country. And for that, I am thankful.
In loading up my mom’s PT Cruiser (for reference, my mom named her “Patience,” and she certainly lived up to her name over the weekend), not only did I realize that her car is one of the most capacious compacts I’ve ever seen, but I came to understand just how much I had set out to do — and accomplished — in college, largely proportional to the vast amount of junk I had accumulated through the years. From floor to ceiling, I could finally see a concrete level of just what college was for me beyond the wild times and fun memories.
And that didn’t even include my full my Saturn’s excess bloat from hundreds of pounds of books kept and trinkets collected.
In exiting from the 412 by 7:30 to find the nearest Cracker Barrel for dinner, I asked myself if I could pack enough for a multi-day trek to a new home in my little car, whether my car would be able to suffice until I could hopefully make it to Nicolas Cage’s garage sale in Los Angeles to pick up some more stuff.
It may. It may not. I really couldn’t tell you right now. I’ll find out in a few days. All I know is that the train for Hollywood leaves on Friday, and there’s an awful lot to do in the meantime — so much, in fact, that now I hesitate to keep concerning myself with the last five years of my life beyond this blog post. That part of life is over. Done. Finite. Fertig.
The next few begin a whole new set, perhaps laden with things I never thought I’d see and will probably never see again.
Last week during my last day of my temp job in Pittsburgh, my coworker, my friend, said to me, “You’re always going to be moving forward or backward. If you’re not moving forward, if you’re not moving at all, then you’re moving backward.”
So I guess there’s only one direction to go from here because it sure as heck isn’t anywhere near Pittsburgh, and I’m only going to be back in Ohio for another couple of days.
Things That Rhyme with 'Cars' 