I wanna goin' back

So probably only Amanda and Brett are going to understand that title...but that's ok.

There's a little less than two weeks left in July, the thermometer easily clears 90 every day, and the humidity is such that the air is tangible. Baseball season is humming along, and my fantasy team in losing. My birthday came and went with minimal hoopla (just the way I like it), and there is a general sense of stagnation every afternoon. So pretty much, this July is going like every other July in recent memory.

But something's missing. There's this nagging feeling that I should be getting excited about, or at least looking to, something in the near future. And last night, in that weird state between consciousness and sleep, I realized what it was...and realized that it won't be happening again.

See, the gravity of the whole 'graduation' thing never really set in during or immediately after the ceremony. Aside from the mass of people and general pageantry, the feeling was largely similar to that of previous end-of-the-school-year feelings. I was never too upset about it because I knew that in 3 months or so, I'd be right back there doing the same thing again.

But now that reality has set in, I realize that, barring any unforeseen job termination, tear in the space-time continuum, or insatiable desire for another degree, that chapter of my life is likely closed for good. And as yet, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

As much as I dig living in D.C. and things like seeing the Capitol lit up at dusk, the occasional encounter with the Presidential motorcade, and making my own money, I find myself pining more and more for Athens and things like General Beauregard’s on Thursday nights, the occasional encounter with the Tate Preacher condemning me to hell, pooling money with friends to get a pizza, and yes — band camp.

There was always a feeling of renewal with the first trip back to Athens after the summer. A clean, empty apartment waiting to be filled mostly with my useless crap. That first trip downtown before most people got back in town. Going to lunch with the mellophone section and talking to old friends about how we don’t know any of the freshmen’s names. Looking forward to indoor music rehearsal because it sounds better…but mostly because it’s air conditioned and we get to play The Chant. And The Chant kicks ass.

Not to sound too hokey, but there was also a feeling of a clean slate, second chance, whatever, that came along with each band camp. A chance to make new friends, become a better musician, make a drunken ass of yourself at the ATA party, or decide against that.

The same goes for the start of the start of a new school year. The new notebooks, writing utensils, text books, planners, etc. always signified a chance to start over and make improvements -- whether or not they were actually made is another story. There was just the sense that there were a million possibilities out there, that the world was my oyster, if you will, and while that's not necessarily untrue now...there's certainly the feeling that I've reached a certain point and that there's no turning back.

I guess I just miss that whole process, or worse yet, I don't like to think that it's going on without me. As much as I like where I am and what I'm doing and like the prospect of my future...I can't help but look to the past with a certain nostalgia, but also with an uncertainty that I made all the right choices. But, not being able to complain about where I am...I suppose the 'right' choices are all in the eye of the beholder.

I suppose the time always comes to move on, but I guess that doesn't mean I have to like it, or that I can't get homesick for it. On the same hand, it doesn't mean that I can't visit, get toasted, and scream my lungs out at a football game. Only next time I won't be in the wool uniform or holding the horn. But as they say...once a dawg, always a dawg. How sweet it is.

Sweet indeed.