Fig. 1: your St. Louis Cardinals.
Moving back is a practice in keeping your eyes in your head. I was twitchy with anticipation before my own return to St. Louis, and I want to reassure the reader those sort of emotions were well founded.
Before the move you might find your thoughts fogged with regret and hope. I promise your current true friendships will remain sound, and a marshmallowy cushion will fill the space that lost time and distance create. You're all going to be alright.
When you come back you will be reacquainted with people you are certain you've never seen before, others you're not sure what impression you left with. Don't take these idiots for granted, some of them grew up and some of them grew teeth. Usually you've guessed wrong.
Still, your instincts will be razor sharp at this turn in your life. Trust them unflinchingly, it's more fun that way. In no time your social dis-ease will melt away. Stay curious.
Go hang out with mom, once every 2 weeks. You really do miss her.
QUICKTIP: When you return, find an unfamiliar part of town that reminds you dearly of the place you just left. Visit on the seasonal days and make phonecalls to the ol' gang. Bring a newspaper and 2 cigarettes.
QUICKTIP: Get the fuck back out of town. Frequent weekend trips anywhere are a staying remidy against snap-judgement cynicism.
You'll need to find a job. Don't be picky, and don't wait too long. Disorientation can accompany major shifts in life, mind that your lifestyle does not protract during this time of transition. You were never that motivated: many hours of the day you need to be told what to do for the sake of your own sanity.
This is a drinking town. Give yourself a couple of weeks of facedown imbibing and then stop. A couple more weeks and then have 2 if you're going out. Your aged softening brain don't bounce like it used to.
Make friends but for godsakes don't touch one. A romantic kerfluffle is not in your cards now. Oh and start a fucking band, like prompt.
It's still the midwest, you'll still make your own fun.
