2 Days in Scranton

Just got back from a business trip in Scranton, PA. Saying I was on a "business trip" makes me sound like I'm trying to sound all adult and responsible and important and cool, but the truth is, I'm just trying to be clear. I don't want anyone to think I was in Scranton, PA on vacation.

Whatever, Scranton is like every other small town. I didn't see much of it, not that there was much to see, but I'm sure there are nice parts. I think I've fallen victim to an intrinsic snobbery toward all towns smaller than my hometown, which is larger than most towns to begin with. I think I just like having options, having the capability to have whatever I want when I want. In a small town you lose that, the security you feel in knowing that if you want to see a new movie you don't need to worry if it's at the theater in your area. Maybe security is the wrong word, maybe freedom is a better word. Yeah, I think it is.

I can't tell you how anxious I was to turn 21. Not because I was all keyed up to start drinking legally, to be honest, drinking was much more fun when it was illegal. I was really looking forward to being able to go wherever I wanted. Being of shy mind and spineless body, I constantly worried that I would walk into a place to sit down and write or whatever and someone would come over and tell me I'm too young to be there. That kind of weird confrontation stood as a constant source of anxiety to pre-21-year-old Marc.

When I turned 25 I got excited about being able to rent a car, but not really. I'd rented cars in the past. When my Subaru was stolen the insurance company gave me a rental, which was nice, but it didn't supply me with any sort of rebellious sensation of freedom beyond my years. I went to high school next to a freeway on-ramp. I'd sit in class and daydream about getting on the freeway and just driving away. I'd half-listen to Mr. Norton's lecture on To Kill A Mockingbird and wonder if tomorrow would be the day I'd take that wide turn and drive off down I-90. But by the time I was 25 I lost that sensation.

Because when you're in your mid-twenties you find new and interesting ways to escape like that. This isn't a segue into why I love crack cocaine or anything, I'm just saying as you get older you gain more power over your environment. I know now that I could buy a plane ticket and move across the country tomorrow if I wanted--could completely uproot my life entirely in the blink of an eye. I could rent that car, drive to Nevada, get a fake ID and fall off the grid. But it's like drinking, once it's acceptable it's not as interesting. It goes from being rebellion to being personal choice. Pulling onto the on-ramp before school was a statement about being confined in the trappings of my own melodramatic adolescent life as much as it was actual escape.

After 18 you make the life decision to smoke. At 21 you choose whether or not to go into bars and drink. You graduate college, it's now your choice to move away and chase a dream or get a job and fade into obscurity.

So what am I getting at? I suppose I have to conclude this post with some poignant single sentence that will make you see what a clever person I am. But let's be honest. I started typing because I was bored and wound up with a diatribe about whatever this was. Maybe a couplet? Ok, a couplet:

Just the possibility of you reading my blog makes me happy,
And when I see that I only have 5 comments I feel very crappy.

No, I don't want you to feel obligated to write comments, that was just the first thing that came to mind. Maybe I should end my posts with a diamante. At least then I wouldn't have to rhyme. Or maybe I'll just cut off the posts where I feel like it, after all, I write about whatever I want. I don't know, there's a weird compulsive neuron floating around my brain that makes me feel like I have to conclude things.

I'll leave you with something interesting I've discovered about myself, rather, that I discovered years ago but have never been able to change and I fear people think it's just me being pretentious:

I spell "theater" like "theatre" and "gray" like "grey." These spellings just make more sense to me, they're what come out when I'm typing phrases like "The carpet in the theatre was grey." This isn't because I want people to think I'm sophisticated or that maybe I am English (for whatever reason), it's just how I've always spelled them.

So when I write you a note that reads: "Hey, I decided to go for a run today, it was grey out and looked like it would rain. I ate some of your peanut butter, sorry." You should know that I'm conveying a straight-forward message with absolutely no sub-text, other than that I love peanut butter enough to steal it.