Home Again

Well, its been almost five months since I left Block Island to move back to Philly. Its hard to believe that this is the most amount of time I have spent here in the past four years. Until now, the longest I'd been back was the summer after my sophomore year-- just three months. Mostly its just been Christmas vacation, a weekend here and there, a few days around Spring Break. It's sad to say that Philadelphia had started to become a place to visit, rather than my home.

Five years ago, I never would have thought things would turn out this way. My first year at college, friends wanted to kill me for my incessant talk about Philadelphia. Every thing was a story about my high school, a lesson on a "true" cheesesteak, a joke about The Phillies. Like most Philadelphians, my pride for this city was just as big as my mouth, and I couldn't stop talking about all the reasons we were better than everyone else.

But long semesters at school, Spring Breaks on vacation, and summers in Block Island kept me away from Philly. I started using words like "wicked" and "cawfee"; Clam chowda and bagels became staples of my diet, while Tastykakes lay dusty in the corner; my car's tires wore down the stretch of I95 between New York and Rhode Island. After the Harbor Grill closed up for the season, coming back to Philly for more than a month-- especially to a house that was not my childhood home-- felt oddly uncomfortable.

After a couple of weeks, however, things quickly fell back into place. Seeing so many friends and returning to places I hadn't visited in years made me incredibly glad I returned. Now, nearly every day I am reminded of what makes this city so great. Riding the train to work, I pass through several of the city's neighborhoods, appreciating the individual character and nuances of each; I gaze at the historic streets and architecture while walking through Center City; during Eagles games, I smile as burly men draped in green jump out of their seats at every touch down, and petite mascaraed women curse off the screen at every fumble; I rush through Market East with a mix of fear and amusement as a crowd of the homeless venerate at the blank wall beneath the escalator. There are just so many diverse reasons to love this city.

However, my favorite aspect of Philadelphia may be its love for a good story-- and the many ridiculous ones it provides. Despite the significant size of the city, gossip tends to run through the streets like in a small town. For a city that both Hillary Clinton and Paris Hilton have recently chose to promote themselves in, a city that hosts several professional sports teams, a city that provides the namesake and location for numerous TV shows and movies, the local news can still be dominated by stories of high school students who let chickens loose in the school halls.

I myself witness many good stories here every day. Working in a Center City restaurant of course provides its amusement, and SEPTA, the city's public transportation system, is filled with characters destined for novels. My friends here as well, with their eccentricities and lack of social grace, never fail to provide their share of comedy and drama. And, of course, as readers of this blog know, I too have been known to find myself in an awkward predicament or ten.

So, while I have been wildly negligent of my writing in the past nine months, I'm going to strive for now on to keep up with my blog and capture these and other stories in print. With so much to work with, there's no reason not to. This city is filled with passion, absurdity, and humor-- just what I try to instill in my writing. So, to the few people who may have read this blog in the past, I hope you'll rediscover it and enjoy hearing about the pathetic stories that are my life and the awesomeness that is my hometown.


And if that doesn't peek your interest, I'll have you know I live with my parents. If that doesn't provide some awkward and hilarious moments, I don't know what will.