Growing Up / life / school

No sleep ’til…Trenton?

To paraphrase Sarah Vowell, every day in New Jersey is Bon Jovi Day.

I just thought I’d bring that up because I’m spending my weekend getting up early in the morning and driving to New Jersey.  Both days*.  And because I heard “Who Says You Can’t Go Home?” on the radio in the car this morning.  And, as thoughts of my Saturday drive to the Garden State were running through my head, I couldn’t help but think, “You know what, Jon? Who, indeed, does say you can’t go home? Because that dude’s an asshole.”

Sunday morning, I’ll be literally driving home — to my parents’ house — but that’s not what I was thinking about when I heard the lesser of New Jersey’s rock heroes** singing his heart out about the only place they’d call him one of their own.  While I’m somewhat*^ looking forward to it, I go to my parents’ house on a relatively regular basis.  There, I am fed pizza and my eccentricities are indulged and occasionally viewed as “charming.”  It’s not a bad deal.  But on an excitement scale of 1 to 10, we’re at a 1.5.

But Saturday?  Saturday’s an entirely different story.

Saturday I’ll be making a long-delayed trip to a place I’d call home in different way.  And I’m pretty darn excited to visit the old stomping grounds and harass people by making them look at and discuss the beauty of the Georgian Colonial facades that served as the backdrop to the old salad days.  That morning (at 8:30, to be exact), I’ll be giving at paper with a group of friends to what I hope to be a small audience at my undergrad.  And then I plan on exiting the room to do a Sound of Music-style twirl in the atrium of The College of New Jersey’s Social Sciences Building.  And, weather permitting, I might just do an outdoor version in front of the ailing clock tower.

And after weeks of sitting still, trying not to say much, and attempting to figure out my nonsense, I’m really looking forward to walking back on campus again and taking a deep breath.  Because letting the sweet, sweet Trenton air fill my lungs might just be good for me.

Me, 2002. Caught in that hazy space between doing my homework and not doing my homework.

———–

* Just so you know, if you thought/said out loud to yourself, “Why doesn’t she just stay over?,” I am currently rolling my eyes at you.  Especially you, Dad.

** If you don’t know who I’d rank above Bon Jovi, then I’m sad for you.  Go do some research.  I’ll wait here.

*^ The “somewhat” comes from the whole “having to get up early both weekend mornings to be someplace by a specific time” thing, so let’s not get our undies in a wad.

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3 thoughts on “No sleep ’til…Trenton?

  1. Seriously, the clock tower is falling apart, it looks like it was burned down by Rochester’s mad wife by this point. But… we still love it!

  2. Pingback: Home socks « Cardigan Enthusiast

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