Blast from the past

I got home today, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? Not a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer (although that would be cool), but a clean room and semi-organized garage. This is something that I have not observed in the Williamson house since some time when I was in college. Definitely pre-2002.

In the hall sat my magical purple trunk. Magical, I call it, because it tends to make an appearance around milestone moments and elucidate some metaphorical growth or transition. I really wasn’t expecting one tonight but was pleasantly surprised to unearth 2 volumes of self-indulgence labeled in the following manner

SOPHOMORE YEAR: I SWEAR I’M NOT A DRAMA QUEEN.

[unlabeled Senior Year with the following late-night quotation on the cover]

K-Y’know how we have a [big] intestine & small intestine?
T- Yeah?
K-Wouldn’t it be funny if they were called the colon & the semi-colon?

Sweet.

Inside were printouts of journals and blogs that I hadn’t read in years, including all the “On Air” and “On the shelf” full of thinly-veiled angst and/or reflections of my academic pursuits. These snippets were almost more fun than the journal itself, although I haven’t really gotten to read most of that. Yet.

There was a warm (and not always sweet) wave of nostalgia that passed over, and this will probably spur more commentary later, but for now I submit one quote and one observation.

QUOTE regarding a torridly unrequited long-lost love. is that oxymoronic? who cares.

“He really does forget that I exist, and that’s just the way he is; I’ll always remember, and that’s the way I am.”

Wow. It’s great how pronouns can make something applicable…TO EVERYONE I’VE DATED in the past two years, not to mention long-lost boys.

OBSERVATION
There used to be a different tagline for Amarga, which I had completely forgotten. In a smack of dramatic irony, it surprised me at it s bitterness:

And the sad truth which hovers o’er my desk
Turns what was once romantic to burlesque
-Lord Byron, Don Juan

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