Old haunts

This is gonna be brief, because I'm feeling pretty tired right now and this internet connection is really crappy.

I drove down to Anaheim this afternoon, to watch the Angels play the Pirates, who, by the grace of interleague play, are in town for the weekend. I'd never been to Angels Stadium before. Very nice. Clean. Didn't seem to be a bad seat in the whole place. I was a little further away from the field than I prefer, but the ticket was fairly cheap, so I can't complain too much. I'll have pictures up either in the morning or Monday.

This old woman who was sitting beside me, about halfway through the game, she pulled a small (cheap?) bottle of wine out of her bag and proceeded to fill her cup with its fruity-smelling contents.

Pirates lost 10-1. It was a pretty miserable game. Pittsburgh's starter did great for five out of the six innings he pitched, but he got lit up for five runs in the second. Then the Angels got another run in the seventh and four in the eighth. But hey, I did get to see a famously unorthodox Vladimir Guerrero home run.

I had to fight the urge to drive through the neighborhood Alissa and I lived in when we were out here before. It's extremely close to the Angels ballpark. I used to drive past the stadium every day when I worked at that crappy video store in Santa Ana, which I think I mentioned in the previous blog post. Whatever. I'm tired.

As the exit I used to take to get home blew past me, I felt a twinge of nostalgia, maybe a bit of melancholy. That whole experiment of living out here before, it wasn't all bad. I have a lot of great memories from that time of my life, but I feel that I'm such a different person now, I didn't see the point in dredging up the past, rehashing the memories any more than I already was by being that far south on the 5.

That's where memories are supposed to stay, anyway. In the past. They're what got me here, to this point in my life, for good or ill. But I'm here now. Again. In the present. Now is the when that matters. Not back then.

Anyway. Yeah. Bedtime. I better post this quick before I lose the internet connection again.

1 comment:

mick said...

Nah - the past is what makes us who we are today.

You should find some amount of appreciation for what happened then. If not for those times you wouldn't be who you are today.

I fought hard not to put in a smart ass comment at the end of that last paragraph.