Nostalgia is a hell of a drug. I rarely need another.

I've been indulging in nostalgia since the early 2000s when I was in high school. And that must sound silly, I always find myself judging when some teenager starts waxing poetic about lost days. Though that's probably unfair. Nothing special about my experiences.

My initial foray into nostalgia came about because my high school years synced up with the first big change in my life. I moved from the coastal Santa Cruz county to the urban hellhole that is Stockton in response to surging housing prices happening anywhere that could be described as pretty. I was rather unhappy with the move, despite the fact that my life in my hometown had become a living hell, and it was likely if I stayed there for much longer that I probably would've left a different way.

Still, this coincided with the end of the 90s, as well. Media was shifting to a more "urban" aesthetic that offended my autistic suburban sensibilities, and there weren't as many things that interested me on TV as there used to be. It really did feel like everything had changed and it wasn't really "for me" anymore.

I began longing for cartoons and toys that were commonplace when I was a kid that were no longer available. Keep in mind that this was the era right before everything became available on DVD, so for the most part, when something aired on TV that was it unless you could record it with a VCR.

I found myself missing GI Joe, DuckTales, Sonic the Hedgehog, Transformers, etc. But I did still enjoy new things, obviously. I got really into Gundam, and started playing the new 3rd edition of DnD. I found some good friends at my high school in the form of some neurodivergent weirdos and we made a lot of new memories.

But y'know, when my life shifted again and I had to leave after high school, I found myself feeling a greater nostalgia for all of those new things. Ironically, by that point, I could pirate just about every old show I ever liked, and boy howdy did I.

After college, I went to work in a vintage toy store, and called myself a Nostalgia Peddler. It annoyed me how much the corporate zeitgeist picked up on the wave of nostalgia washing over more than just me, and I feel the rampant monetization of everyone's childhood has just fed my increasing jaded rage at the whole late stage capitalism we've let fester.

I've spent so much of my life yearning for what came before, idolizing the past. And lately the novelty of it has just worn off.

That's not to say I've given up the things that made me happy, just that it being from the past isn't enough to satisfy me anymore.

You know I'm a raconteur extraordinaire if you've talked to me for any amount of time in real life. I have a thousand stories, and I'm charming enough to tell 'em more than once. For the longest time, I told them 'cause they were my only real connection to the things that came before, especially as people came and went from my life.

Lately I feel I've gotten better at telling them. A lot of that has to do with cleaning myself up (and I do clean up nicely), but more than that, it's become more about sharing with others, rather than doing some nostalgia wank for myself to relive some glorious day that's come and gone.

I've found that my stories occasionally help other folks have a fun time, they're sort of a signature of mine. A few years ago, I said to a good friend of mine that I hated Bards in DnD, which my friend found highly ironic due to how exactly like a DnD Bard I am in real life. I'd just mostly found them to be silly, but I sometimes take myself too seriously so that tracks.

Well, I feel more in on the joke now, and it's a lot easier to be that bard, who I think is my truest self.

So is that acceptance an embrace of the past or a rejection of it? I've found that nostalgia isn't just a convenient dopamine injection wrapped up in a declaration of better days behind us. Perhaps that nostalgia will always tint the now for me, but I think now is sweeter than I've previously given it credit for.

There's things I'll always miss, obviously. But lately it's struck me as fortunate that I can't get the past back. What I wouldn't give for some days back. It's better I can't pay such a steep price.

I paid by missing what's in front of me long enough for the sake of memories.

Recently a lovely person's face lit up when they knew I was about to tell another bizarre story. And I think that's what I'd like now to be.

Yeah, I think that's what I'd like now to be.