Obla Di, Obla Da

What happens when life goes on?

I went back to St. Louis for the first time in nine months. I finally saw my mom, (and don’t want to go that long without seeing her again), had cigars at my favorite bar with work friends, and went back to my home Ren Fair. I found that when life goes on, I go on, too, and was surprised with how okay I was with the changes.

Mom and I reconnected in a good way, but that was to be expected. We both work at it, and always will.

Cigars at my favorite bar was weird. It was like I’d never left, but it was something I never belonged to in the first place. Maybe it was because of the bartender, who I never really liked and was a dick to us, but it just didn’t feel comfortable.

Then, seeing my friends was awesome, but they reflected my past life that I really don’t want to go back to. They were telling stories about things with clients and colleagues that I easily could have told, and I don’t miss my old role. I don’t miss the frustration and the bitterness. I kind of feel like it’s a waste, all that time and energy I spend working on my Master’s. Have you done things that you later thought were a waste? Were they really?

Finally, going back to fair, even though we only came for two weekends, I felt like I still had a place, and room had been made for WO as well. We still belonged to them, and I feel like we always will, no matter where we live.