stable song

Time for the final bow
Rows of deserted houses
All our stable mates highway bound


I logged onto Facebook just a while ago, and I noticed that my friend Sara from Madison had posted these lyrics as her status a few days ago. I thought about how appropriate it was, at the end of the semester... everybody in Turner House packing up and moving away... but I had already done so, back in December. and my disappearance had already evaporated and faded into the old cracked walls; it would go unmourned during the final move-out.

and for a second, I think back to the first day at Madison... the sweaty, confusing bustle of things. all the mysterious people whose faces and names blended into each other. how awkward I was--perhaps we all were. the first conversations. the "ice-breakers" and the first look around. the first laughs, jokes. the awkward meetings between the parents... noticing someone else with the same futon as you, same guitar, same T-shirt...

for some reason, it just left me feeling so nostalgic and poignant, and I again started to consider all the people I had loved and lost in my life. it made me kind of sad, and now I start to wonder if I've done something wrong. if perhaps I've pushed people away because they didn't meet my expectations... my cinematic, overly-romantic visions of comradery and friendship.
perhaps my life was just bound to take on a lonelier path after that first fateful semester in Fall. who knows.

I just feel kind of sad, I do honestly miss the friendships I had in Turner House. I do regret that I didn't stay and see what could have bloomed.

but there were other reasons. I needed to come to Milwaukee. I needed to dissolve the image of it being the picture-perfect city for me, of it being the picture-perfect college for me. I needed to come here and find out that no, it was not all it was cracked up to be.

but then again, what really is? and I just seem to be approaching circular thinking here, running into that irritating old adage: "the grass is always greener..."


words can't really express what I'm trying to get at here, and if I keep rambling, I'll only lose the beauty and the fragility of the true emotion. I'm just filled with this sort of awe and this heavy sense of nostalgia. a longing for the perfect past... yes, always the perfect past... flaws become insignificant or invisible from a distance.