One more anniversary...
Dec. 2nd, 2016 11:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorcyressLike...mild trigger warning for slightly irreverent emotional abuse references
Oh hey, I almost forgot.
It's been nine years since I rode up the escalators in Porter Square Station, stepped out into the snow, and felt my heart sing out
In the spring of 2007, I had applied to UMaryland: College Park, Tufts, Brandeis, Lesley, and Boston University. I wanted to go north so bad I could taste it. On March 31st, mom walked into the living room to give me the only news that could distract me from my asshole-life-sucking-abusive-boyfriend and the presence of THE GREATEST PERSON IN THE WORLD1. She had two envelopes from colleges saying "thanks but your pre-ADHD-diagnosis grades and general shiftlessness are a no go" and one big thick packet from Lesley saying "come on down, and have some free money to boot!"
Shitpickle-assface of course had to try and ruin things by being UNBELIEVABLY SAD AND UNABLE TO COPE with the fact that I was going to move to another state (god, seriously, someone go step on that guy's foot, he's such a mayobutt) but that didn't matter because a) I now had absolute and objective proof that I wasn't a completely worthless piece of shit academically and could actually get my ridiculous dysfunctional ass into college and b) THAT COLLEGE WAS IN BOSTON WOO!!!
So I moved four hundred miles north (and somewhat east) and woke up one morning to a parade going past my college and one night I was across the hall when the disco bikes rode by and I discovered SCD and was told in no uncertain terms that Davis sq was way hipper than Harvard, tyvm.
And then there was a blitz-surprise-visit to the city I loathed2 and boy that was emotionally exhausting, the good and the bad ("Veronica, Veronica, Veronica" "KAT!" *cue hugs and tears*) and I didn't sleep all that much because I was busy being raped and dumping that dirtrag-monkeystain's face and so the plane ride home was weirdly meditative.
And I walked out the big glass doors and everything was quiet and muffled by a layer of snow. And well, I'd been ~*pretty sure*~ before, that this was where I was meant to be. But that single instant...the chord it struck in me hasn't stopped chiming yet.
I belong here. As much as I may consider the idea of trying somewhere new, as much as I flirt with the thought of going full nomad and wandering a while, my heart and soul and self belongs in the area encompassed by the MBTA's subway system.
So now it's been a third of my life that I've spent living here. It's too bone-fucking cold and there are massholes making every form of transit worse than the last, and ugh Ivy-snobs and gentrification and would the friggin green line just *expand* already and gods, I just love this stupid town so unbelievably much.
(Did you know Boston is the only city in the world where you can get lost on the public transit and find yourself in Wonderland? I've always found that amazing, and you should too.)
I am home, and I am here, and I am happy.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: Which is to say, it was the first day that mek and I were actually in the same place together, and whats-his-ass was there too because he could not let me be happy about things without his presence, I fucking swear. But this isn't a rapist post, so let's move on.
2: I have mellowed considerably in my feelings towards Columbia, but I still refuse to ever move back there. It is not a place where I feel I can Exist.
3: That was actually pretty funny, because I got right off the bike and whirled around and started stalking towards them with my full on Teacher Glare and they immediately launched into "sorry sorry sorry, our friend's drunk, he wasn't aiming at you, we're sorry!" Boys.
PostScript: Often when I write deep sorts of things, I use the eye icon to show I'm feeling contemplative. But do you know what this icon is listed as in the keywords? "Boston Sorcy". This was my "yer a college student, Sorcy" present from Skullx, and you will notice that it has the Citgo sign in the background.
I pay silent tribute to that sign every time I see it.
Oh hey, I almost forgot.
It's been nine years since I rode up the escalators in Porter Square Station, stepped out into the snow, and felt my heart sing out
home.
In the spring of 2007, I had applied to UMaryland: College Park, Tufts, Brandeis, Lesley, and Boston University. I wanted to go north so bad I could taste it. On March 31st, mom walked into the living room to give me the only news that could distract me from my asshole-life-sucking-abusive-boyfriend and the presence of THE GREATEST PERSON IN THE WORLD1. She had two envelopes from colleges saying "thanks but your pre-ADHD-diagnosis grades and general shiftlessness are a no go" and one big thick packet from Lesley saying "come on down, and have some free money to boot!"
Shitpickle-assface of course had to try and ruin things by being UNBELIEVABLY SAD AND UNABLE TO COPE with the fact that I was going to move to another state (god, seriously, someone go step on that guy's foot, he's such a mayobutt) but that didn't matter because a) I now had absolute and objective proof that I wasn't a completely worthless piece of shit academically and could actually get my ridiculous dysfunctional ass into college and b) THAT COLLEGE WAS IN BOSTON WOO!!!
So I moved four hundred miles north (and somewhat east) and woke up one morning to a parade going past my college and one night I was across the hall when the disco bikes rode by and I discovered SCD and was told in no uncertain terms that Davis sq was way hipper than Harvard, tyvm.
And then there was a blitz-surprise-visit to the city I loathed2 and boy that was emotionally exhausting, the good and the bad ("Veronica, Veronica, Veronica" "KAT!" *cue hugs and tears*) and I didn't sleep all that much because I was busy being raped and dumping that dirtrag-monkeystain's face and so the plane ride home was weirdly meditative.
And I walked out the big glass doors and everything was quiet and muffled by a layer of snow. And well, I'd been ~*pretty sure*~ before, that this was where I was meant to be. But that single instant...the chord it struck in me hasn't stopped chiming yet.
I belong here. As much as I may consider the idea of trying somewhere new, as much as I flirt with the thought of going full nomad and wandering a while, my heart and soul and self belongs in the area encompassed by the MBTA's subway system.
So now it's been a third of my life that I've spent living here. It's too bone-fucking cold and there are massholes making every form of transit worse than the last, and ugh Ivy-snobs and gentrification and would the friggin green line just *expand* already and gods, I just love this stupid town so unbelievably much.
(Did you know Boston is the only city in the world where you can get lost on the public transit and find yourself in Wonderland? I've always found that amazing, and you should too.)
I am home, and I am here, and I am happy.
~Sor
MOOP!
1: Which is to say, it was the first day that mek and I were actually in the same place together, and whats-his-ass was there too because he could not let me be happy about things without his presence, I fucking swear. But this isn't a rapist post, so let's move on.
2: I have mellowed considerably in my feelings towards Columbia, but I still refuse to ever move back there. It is not a place where I feel I can Exist.
3: That was actually pretty funny, because I got right off the bike and whirled around and started stalking towards them with my full on Teacher Glare and they immediately launched into "sorry sorry sorry, our friend's drunk, he wasn't aiming at you, we're sorry!" Boys.
PostScript: Often when I write deep sorts of things, I use the eye icon to show I'm feeling contemplative. But do you know what this icon is listed as in the keywords? "Boston Sorcy". This was my "yer a college student, Sorcy" present from Skullx, and you will notice that it has the Citgo sign in the background.
I pay silent tribute to that sign every time I see it.
no subject
on 2016-12-08 02:22 pm (UTC)Also, that's not something you see every day, a footnote without a pointer. Is that about getting egged?