Moving on

The notion of resurrecting this blog has been dancing around in my head for a couple weeks now. The reason for the gap between inception of realization has been due to the pressure of The First Post. I have observed many things in the past couple weeks about which I've thought, "I that would make a dandy post," but none of them seemed to be efficient as an initial reentry into this medium. And then this thought of moving on popped into my head. How do we do it? Why do we do it or, perhaps more importantly, why don't we do it?

This evolved from my thinking of the ubiquitous U, whom I am hoping to see tonight. We have had a tradition of seeing each other for beverages every Sunday for two years now (two years on the 24th; happy anniversary, love.). Up until several months ago, this ritual took place religiously at one of two coffee establishments who kitty-corner River & Osborne. Then she moved and we have found temporary, sometimes only weekly, homes elsewhere, primarily in the cultural beacon of Transcona (I will be earning points for my weekly treks out there for years to come). However, due to my recent move and her recent acquisition of a driver's license, we have started to once again entertain the notion of putting down roots and I have felt her pull towards our old haunts, those staunch Village rivals. I feel her nostalgia and, correct me if I am wrong, darling, perhaps her longing to hold on to something from our recent past. I understand it and I would be remiss to say that I didn't feel it myself. However, that being said, it also fills me with dread.

I have recently made enormous leaps towards the future, moving out being the most often noted (most often by myself, no less; I apologize if this has become annoying to anyone), but smaller things as well, such as signing up for Hydro, online banking, getting a credit card, taking my Price Chopper's (adieu, Superstore!) groceries on the bus and feeling the immense satisfaction that comes with the above. The thought of reliving that time feels not only dishonest to my goals but it is also a cruel reminder of a period of time wherein I had my biggest awakening. It reminds me how I felt like a 6 year old again, of her eyes on that first evening, hazy, in delicious recovery, and mostly how, despite giving her my everlasting love and support, I'm not sure I'll ever truly be able to forgive the fact that she let go. Was it for the best? Probably. Would I change anything? Of course not. And yet it's there, in the taunting form of a Second Cup no less.

For someone for who nostalgia has always been manna, this is an odd turn of mind. Perhaps, it's all these changes I've made. Perhaps it was sitting last night immersed in friends, but upon closer inspection, realizing that they were now comprised of seemingly happy couples and (slightly) metrosexual frat boys and feeling a momentary isolation I haven't encountered in four years. Perhaps it was the epiphany that came to me not 30 seconds ago as I was typing that last sentence that I've been desperately trying to cling to a group that has not existed in years. It has expanded, which has been largely positive, but my failure to fully embrace this new incarnation has led to much frustration recently without knowing why.

So I have decided to move on. Not from anyone, any place, any thing, and apparently not from the name of my blog. Rather, simply to let the past and its idolized memories remain where they belong.

And so here we go...