28 June 2004 || Concerning trepidation and pre-homesickness.
T-19 days and counting until Cosmo hops a plane to Portland in an effort to find us a place. I am SO�freaked out about this. Freaked out for lack of a more appropriate term. I'm excited about this first step towards moving out of my grandparents, out of San Diego, and on to a new part of our life. I'm nervous because I'm sending her up to somewhere neither of us have been to find a place to live. I'm worried that for whatever reason, she won't succeed, and I'll have to deal with my disappointment and her self-loathing that comes every time she perceives herself to have failed at something. I'm scared because this is huge, a giant leap away from what has become dead to me, but is still somehow "safe" and familiar feeling and into the unknown. I'm happy because even if she doesn't find a place, even if we have to put of our leaving, even if we don't leave till the end of the year or later, we're finally doing something towards getting out of this town. Sure, I'll miss it. The scene. The weather. The beach. The Mexican food. Remember my entry on misplaced nostalgia? I don't think it's nearly so misplaced anymore. I can't help but look at things with an overdeveloped sense of fondness, tinged with regret. Will this be the last time watching the sunset off the end of the OB pier? The last time I shoot the breeze with the cute cashier who always seems to be working when we make a booze and snack run? The last time I sit in traffic on the 805? *sighs* Saying goodbye to the place where you've grown up is full of last times, isn't it? And the fact that my family is here, and I know I'll be drawn back again and again to visit them, means nothing. Because I won't be a local. Streets will change. Houses will be torn down and rebuilt. Favorite haunts will be paved over or go out of business or move. People will move on and grow up and no matter how many times I look out the window for the familiar landmarks as my plane taxis in�..no matter who it is I come back with�.Cosmo, my eventual mate, my yet-to-exist children�.or what I come back for�.weddings, funerals, holidays�..this is a part of my life that will cease to be.
Sad sounding, isn't it? I am sad. And I'm not. I'm happy too. Because a lot of bad shit has happened to me here, and as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. One day I'll look back at San Diego and my childhood and my life here and think that it wasn't so bad. I'll imagine the summers to be more perfect, the Mexican food to be amazing, the people to be fun and hip and beautiful and upbeat. I'll remember only the good things about my hometown and younger years and when I bring my man, or my kids back to visit, I'll be able to play the tour guide�.a mixture of tourist and local that one can only be when visiting your long-left-behind home town.