Philadelphia has had a strange effect on me. I've completely forgotten all the horrors of Carrboro that spurred me to move here.* I've completely forgotten everything!
Believe me, those horrors still exist. I'm still extraordinarily angered, hurt and pained by some people and experiences in Carrboro, which I realized when I went back to there to pick up the rest of my furniture. I don't think I can go back there for a long time. It's like visiting Aushwitz. ... er ... that's too heavy, dark and surely inappropriate. More like visiting the set of Two and a Half Men. Either way, it's unpleasant.
But unless I venture onto Facebook or flickr and start looking at photos and/or profiles that bring back memories past from Carrboro, it's like, "Huh? Carrboro? What's that? Oh RIIIIGHT. That thing. I forgot about that and all that ... sucktastic crap that happened there."
That's the magic of Philadelphia. Only now I'm bored. Mind-numbingly bored.
*Well, the horrors of Carrboro may have been the main reason, but I'd say It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia probably played at least 30% of a role in me moving to Philadelphia, or at least picking Philadelphia.