And then I remember!

Sometimes, with nostalgia seeping its way into my memories, making them lacy, frilly and infinitely more beautiful than they really were, I often forget why I left an environment behind. I position the memories comfortably in my past, tuck them away, fold them and place them neatly in my desk drawer.

Then sometimes, nostalgia fades and reality slaps me so hard in the face it leaves a welt. This demonstration took place at the outside same place I had my senior prom, the venue I saw Neil Young perform, saw Broadway's Lion King & The Color Purple. It was, in fact, the very same venue that I graduated High School from. The fact that I like socialism, (but realize, I don't think the U.S. has the needed cohesive whole mentality to make it happen) makes me kind of glad that I left this city. Makes me really fucking glad. So, when I'm sitting in Seattle in my shitty apartment, drinking shitty beer, eating cheap shitty food, getting shitty small paychecks, I'll remember it's a fuck-of-a-lot better than living in a city that... does things like this:

I avoid political discussions like the bubonic plague. One mention of a political institution makes my nerves stand up and my confidence cower and wilt. I do however, like socialism. I just don't want to talk about it.