They opened a hipster bar in my neighborhood. Seven years I’ve been here with nary a walking distance watering hole and blammo, they open a Beauty Bar location just three blocks from my door. The opening party was hopeful, there were so many skinny jeans packed into that joint that I was worried the cumulative static electricity might short out the entire block.
Cheap drinks, nice staff and skanky hipster chicks hanging from the rafters. I think I’m in love.
Unfortunately the love couldn’t last as I had to be up the next morning at a god awful hour to spearhead a seven hour drive north to Bates College to see my little sister graduate college. She’d been there for four years and I’d yet to visit. Halfway through the drive I realized why. Thruway driving sucks balls. For a seasoned road tripper like myself there is no worse experience than driving three lanes of repeating tree lines, eating McDonald’s and using the cruise control.
Bates is a gorgeous campus. Tucked into the armpit that is Lewiston, Maine, its green grasses and hyper liberal student bodies seem like a wind farm in the middle of an oil field. We schmoozed, drank and ate for almost twenty four hours straight, stopping only to hear the commencement speeches by what seemed like twenty people, but was in fact just some donors and Fareed Zakaria from CNN (who was pretty awesome).
Having just entered my last year on the right side of thirty I found myself completely oblivious to the difference I should be feeling from these little kids. I remembered that when I was graduating college I thought of my 29 year old friends as ancients, always complaining about their responsibilities and sore backs. They seemed to carry the weight of their world every where. They were always tired.
Finally back in the car on the way home yesterday I think I finally could commiserate. My lower back aching, the looming week ahead of me, all the things I haven’t done since grabbing that diploma and running like a chicken with a half chopped neck came rushing back into my head. I imagined my post college life as a giant page of paper scribbled all over with a messy to-do list.
With so many big black X’s slashed through the checkboxes of my little plans and desires it was nice to see those big and bold and neatly printed life required tasks still ignored. No kids, no house, no wife (and no ex wife as the case would have surely been).
As I was passing out last night I dreamed I tore out the page and started new, re-printing in my best crossword handwriting the new to-do list. Just as small, just as seemingly pointless to most of those who would read it.
First box: Write a slightly mushy and introspective blog entry.
Check.
