Yesterday I was walking down to the local Walgreens to take advantage of the exquisite weather we were experiencing. (A post 60 degree day. The first since November of last year) The combination of the sun, warm weather, smell of Spring/rotting leaves/wet and thawing grass...even the fishy smell that emanates in the distance due to the paper mill? Well I found myself thrust back to almost 8 years prior.
In April of 2000 I was emerging from a patch of quarter-life crisis in a big bad way. I had come off of 6 years of independence to living with my parents, to next finding an apartment with my newly single big brother.
We found an apartment near the U of MN campus on SE 4th street. The building was peopled with students, and Ro and I moved to the top floor apartment which we promptly dubbed "The camper" (It was long, almost tubular. And our rooms were on opposite ends of the place. No real "kitchen" to speak of, but it was cheap. And close to our respective offices)
For some strange reason, things were starting to look oddly progressive. The month of April found me getting past the quarter life crisis and into making some new decisions and sending my life into directions. I had stopped my previous casual dating liaisons with a promise to myself after the last one (who proved...kinda crazy? No dead bunnies, but sakes...6am the next day is not when you start screaming "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME BACK?!?!?") a few weeks before, and decided I would stop acting that way altogether. For real. I was no good at it. I hate the phone and talking on it as a rule, and that got misinterpreted WAY too many times.
I stopped hanging out with people who were acting self-destructively toward one and other, and eventually me. I bought a new (used) car, retiring the gargantuan behemoth gas guzzler- The Crown Vicky. I scored a promotion at the bullseye after 3 years in the same position when my manager said to me: "You seem extremely under-challenged". (Please note, this promotion would also see the downward spiral at the office, which in turn prompted me to tenure my resignation exactly one year later due to panic attacks every day I scanned in...and to become a singing cowboy. I led a charmed life.)
Most importantly, I actively looked for and scored a paid gig to quell my antsy "Stop taking every gig you're handed and try, try to challenge yourself). And by paid, I mean "Well Paid". As in "Holy shit, they pay this much for rehearsals...AND the show?") I was working out consistently, and here's where I wanna double back for a second: It was a beautiful April day in 2000, and I was able to go jogging outside for the first time in shorts and a t-shirt. I crossed the Saint Anthony footbridge (where it got chilly again) and came back 'round up University. There were students everywhere. They were only a few years younger than me...on bikes, in front of Dunn Bros, walking, hanging on their porches. There were same smells I smelled just yesterday and there was the same feeling of optimism and progression that were running rampant in my brain.
I could hear the sounds of radios with the "young people" (I'm a grampa. But what do I know. My musical tastes/preferences stopped circa 1993) where music was thumping from houses: Sisqo, Outkast, Pink, and Nelly Furtado were all getting new airplay/video's/follower, while boy bands were seeing themselves at the cresting point before solo careers and coming out of the closet became the larger news.
I bought myself a DVD player. I later ended up getting my first steady girlfriend in 4 years. I went down the Apple River (For what is now, the last time ever) I obtained a new cache of buddies, one of whom I'd proudly be standing as his best man 6 years later.
I guess spring'll do that to you. Nose. Stagia.
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