I don't do this sort of writing publicly on the internet anymore, but tonight I think I should.
I'm in Troy right now, where I went to college. I flew here to recruit for Google, which hopefully went well, and took the opportunity to see an old friend or two, which is nice. But mainly, I flew here to spend time in the RPI Playhouse.
I feel like this is really strange thing, but my relationship with the Playhouse is one of my most emotional. I've written about it before, in an essay that I simultaneously love and am embarrassed by. I spent most of the best day of my life in that building. In fact, I've probably spent more time in that building than anywhere other than the house I grew up in.
Being back there today was weird, but nice. I've been thinking about it for an hour or so now, and the best way I can think of to describe it follows.
It was like hugging an old girlfriend for the first time in years. Remembering how she smelled and felt, and how things used to be. Everything was just comfortable and nice, and I felt like I should just stay. Its weird how, in that moment, all there was was who I am and what this place means to me. There was a moment just like when you're with your ex, and you know if you kiss you'll be back where you were in a heartbeat, and maybe that's all you ever wanted.
When I left RPI, leaving the Players was like going through a particularly rough breakup, where she doesn't call you anymore because she can't handle it, and maybe is also an inanimate building. I spent more than a year being sad about not being in that space anymore, and the first time I visited was tremendously traumatic.
I guess I wonder if other people have relationships like this with buildings. I'd bet other stagehands do, but I've never really gotten anyone to talk about it.