I'm bored so I'm writing for the sake of writing.
After an all too brief break from filming, I head back down to Norman tomorrow. It's a good thing I have things to distract me when I'm down there, such as oh-so-glamorous movie making, because every time I go, I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia that makes me feel quite old. I actually get a bit sad whenever I exit good ol' 35 and turn onto Main Street. It seems like all of my important relationships have had some sort of ties to Soonerville. First, there was Big whom I spent about five years chasing and almost always wound up doing so somewhere on Campus Corner. Countless break ups, make ups, trips to Starbucks, dollars spent on Pickle-Os, and morning afters were spent at my expense from Lindsey to Boyd. It's a time I thought I'd never survive and yet, we both managed to do so. Seems like only yesterday. Then there was Finch's wonderful grandparents and sister who still live down there, but strangely I never see. In fact, I don't think his grandma would mind if I snuck in and raided their fridge for old times sake. She always made me eat something because she was convinced I was malnourished if left to my own devices.
Then there was Phil. I like to call my first few trips down there to film for his projects my time of getting my feet wet. If someone had told me this person who, let's be honest, I was only mildly amused with would turn out to have the impact he did, I never would have believed them. He doesn't know this but by giving me a position of authority and an opportunity to finally do make up, he gave me confidence that was never associated with this town. To me, this town meant rejection, vulnerability, and settling for less. But these trips became different. I got to boss around pissy actors. Then before I knew it, I was single again and I had a built in wing man for the bars down there. But that project wrapped finally after blimps, birds, and divas tried to stop it and I made my way back home to clean up my life and subsequently, my apartment. But the final trip home was different. For once I wasn't crying or uncertain. I had a best friend.
Tulsa proved to be quite drama filled, so when Phil approached me to work on his capstone, I jumped at the chance. I got to get away again! I would get to spend hours in the car with my music and my thoughts. This was perfect. I could go and enjoy the weekend it would take up. Then there was the guy. The guy who was perfect. The guy who made me happy. The guy who OD'd while I was in Norman filming. THAT guy. I never told Phil the happenings of that day while we were filming. He never knew about my bathroom panic attacks, my feeling guilty, or anything. I was there to pull him out of his filming rants and that made me useful. I met all his friends. They liked me. They told us to date, made us kiss for pictures, told us we were perfect together. This being the first time I'd heard any thoughts on the subject of us, I looked to Phil for cues as to how to respond. "She's like my sister. It's gross." Okay, then. That's that. We were best friends and nothing more. Well, you all know the story so I'll leave it at that. The rest is history.
My point in this rambling mess, (congratulations for making it this far), my friends, is this. I wrapped up years in that town and tied them up with a pretty bow. Now I feel as though I've come full circle and kicked Norman's ass.