Endtroducing
This is my last week as an Angelino. I’ve been doing my best to pack and shed but I have to admit there’s a psychological aspect of choosing what parts of life you throw away and what parts you keep. So many of the things I encounter, trying to empty out my room, are symbols of where I’ve been. Even though letting them go isn’t going to let the experience go, it’s knowing that the experience will be only a memory with no physical accompaniment.
I found my old Intel badges. The second class I ever taught was at Intel and each day my stomach would somersault as I passed the security checkpoint and made my way to the classroom. I wouldn’t have survived except a guy named Steve Yonamine showed me some kindness. I would wear my badge with pride, feeling I was a part of massive army, spurring the internet revolution forward. This was in 1998.
There was the old DJ Shadow LP, Endtroducing. I bought it at Aarons in Hollywood a few days after its official release. It wasn’t on the shelves; it was behind the counter and one had to specifically request it for purchase. It made me feel like I was privy to a secret society of the musically aware.
Sifting through papers I saw old travel itineraries and rental car agreements. For 4 long years I’d have a weekly argument with the rental clerk about whether or not I, not yet 25, could rent a car for the week. Once, in Kansas City, I ran into a guy my age (I think we were both 22 or so) who was going through the same hassle I was – the comfort of shared bondage was good. I found an itinerary to Frankfort, Kentucky. For reasons that I won’t bore you with, I think that Frankfort was where I really became a programmer. Even though I was teaching programming languages, I got “it” that week.
I’ve had my crutches from tearing my Achilles for a long time as well. Even though they had to be paid for, the reason I kept them was more subconscious. Looking at them reminded me of a time in my life when I couldn’t do anything alone. I couldn’t even pour a drink of water and sit on the couch to drink it alone. I learned to crutch up and down stairs. Besides the crutches, I found disability checks. I remember how scared I was about not working for a month, trying to figure out how I’d make rent.
Each box I open, each paper I sift to the junk pile, each object I encounter, all seem to evoke an attachment of some kind. Even the stupid clock radio I’ve had since my freshman year of college, which moved with me back and forth on campus, and then to Costa Mesa, La Mirada, Whittier, and Buena Park over a 10 year time period. As I’m throwing away things I know that I’m not only freeing myself, but I’m making space for all the new things that I’m going to encounter living in South Dakota. I’ll try to be wiser about letting things go more gradually, but I doubt I’ll succeed. Then again, K will probably make sure that I’m a more efficient pack rat.
Well, back to packing.
8:03:40 AM 
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