Nostalgic mood that I’ve been in all day, I just went through my diaries to see what it was I was doing on March 3 in years past. You can read some of the results below for yourself. The stuff in brackets is context I am providing so that you can understand what I am talking about in the diary entry.
Every now and then I find myself overcome by a wave of nostalgia. This evening it was triggered by my romping through my 1996 diary, confirming a special anniversary tomorrow (about which I will write tomorrow). When I got to one of my diaries for a specific piece of information, I can’t help browsing entries once I’ve found what I was looking for. The entries from 10 years ago make me feel particularly nostalgic for those seemingly halcyon days in Studio City, California, when for lunch or dinner, I could run up the street for In ‘n’ Out or Carl’s, Jr. Or I come across an entry about work and it seems like those days in the office were much simpler, much less political and much less corporate than they are today. Why is that, I wonder? Is it because we see the past through rose-tinted glasses? Or is it because experience teaches us that we are rarely as satisfied with the present as we are the past?
One interesting thing I noted in my diary entries from a decade ago: I often seemed to mark time by school quarters (10 weeks, or 11 weeks, if you count finals week). Even though I’d been out of school for over a year and a half at the time, I was still used to my year being divided up into 11 week segments. Nowadays, everything just blurs together, there are no clear dividing lines, except for the change in season. That’s one reason I like being on the East coast: without those change in season, I might lose all track of time.
Part of these more somber moods stems from the fact that weekend days like today can be very, very quiet–in the literal sense. There is no one else in the house, except for Zeke, and he doesn’t say much. On days like today, when I ignore my chores and laze around reading, I don’t have to talk at all. I’m not one to talk to myself very much, and with the exception of singing in the shower this morning, I’m not sure I’ve said two words outloud today. I don’t even notice it until I force myself to think about it. Compare this to last weekend, when, while visiting Dan and Megan, I couldn’t shutup, and probably drove them crazy.
At any rate, I have a letter to write, and that should help to snap me out of this mood. And if that doesn’t work, there’s always a few episodes of Scrubs, or more reading, or web browsing, or…