There are about ten songs, scattered randomly throughout my favorite playlists and albums that will never cease to transport me back to my freshman year of college. This soundtrack will always elicit the indescribable feelings of being on my own for the first time and getting to know the most incredible people.
Memories play like an expertly crafted movie montage. It simultaneously makes me smile and breaks my heart. Such a good archive of stories to recall and tell to my children one day in an attempt to convince them that I was young once too, but also a doleful reminder that times may never be that happy, carefree, and new ever again.
A lot of times, that’s why I like certain music. Because it reminds me of a time when I was listening to it, when it was the background music to my life. But then I wonder, where does my taste fit into that?
I have the same problem with all of art. I can’t listen to a song, see a painting, or watch a play and tell you definitively if I like it or not. I have to mull it over, talk about it, analyze it.
This drives me crazy. Myself and others are often annoyed by my indecisiveness. I used to think it was a people pleasing thing, but more recently I’m believing more that it’s something all it’s own.
I don’t know what I like. I don’t know what I dislike. And I certainly don’t know how to go about figuring it out.
Will I ever be able to definitively say how I feel about anything. Or will I continue to be a fickle bandwagoner?
…The saga shall continue.
20.7.09
I'm limited.
I love people.
I love how every person has a story. A twisting and winding tale with intricate plot twists, flawless character development, and an ending that’s impossible to spoil.
When I meet people I want to know all their secrets just for the sake of knowing. I want to know what it is in their life that that resulted in them being in the exact same spot as me at that precise moment.
I want to know their hopes and dreams. I want to know what makes them happy and what makes them weep. I just want to know their story.
The woman from years ago looking sad, picking at her salad at a lonely table in an empty restaurant pops into my head more frequently than I ever thought a stranger could.
The day my mom and I decided to ask a stranger if they could use some company was the day her husband’s Alzheimer’s had robbed her of what she held most dear. The day she needed someone to care.
I want to be that person for people. The one who’s there when they need it. I hope I have that opportunity again some day.
Learning to listen and figuring out what to do after I hear you is on the agenda for the next year. I'm planning to focus more on others, let my empathy guide me instead of being smothered by unintentional narcissism.
In other, completely unrelated news, I saw the sixth installment of the epic Harry Potter series today. I hate all the hype but really enjoyed the movie. I was in awe over Tom Felton’s performance as Draco. He conveyed his isolation and torment beautifully with very few words.
I was a little bummed that they eliminated the Tom Riddle back story and the intense fight scene that took place after Dumbledore’s assassination. But such is life.
~
So basically, read Harry Potter and tell me your story.
I love how every person has a story. A twisting and winding tale with intricate plot twists, flawless character development, and an ending that’s impossible to spoil.
When I meet people I want to know all their secrets just for the sake of knowing. I want to know what it is in their life that that resulted in them being in the exact same spot as me at that precise moment.
I want to know their hopes and dreams. I want to know what makes them happy and what makes them weep. I just want to know their story.
The woman from years ago looking sad, picking at her salad at a lonely table in an empty restaurant pops into my head more frequently than I ever thought a stranger could.
The day my mom and I decided to ask a stranger if they could use some company was the day her husband’s Alzheimer’s had robbed her of what she held most dear. The day she needed someone to care.
I want to be that person for people. The one who’s there when they need it. I hope I have that opportunity again some day.
Learning to listen and figuring out what to do after I hear you is on the agenda for the next year. I'm planning to focus more on others, let my empathy guide me instead of being smothered by unintentional narcissism.
In other, completely unrelated news, I saw the sixth installment of the epic Harry Potter series today. I hate all the hype but really enjoyed the movie. I was in awe over Tom Felton’s performance as Draco. He conveyed his isolation and torment beautifully with very few words.
I was a little bummed that they eliminated the Tom Riddle back story and the intense fight scene that took place after Dumbledore’s assassination. But such is life.
~
So basically, read Harry Potter and tell me your story.
19.7.09
p.s. I miss you
Back from D.C. I was jazzed about being the one to show it to my mom and grandma for the first time. I developed a new pet peeve in the process: Tourists who are more preoccupied with snapping keepsake photos than experiencing a new place for themselves…obnoxious. More to come on that trip soon.
I’m shoving off to New York tomorrow and then Chicago with a brief pit stop at home to get the wisdom teeth removed. I’m a total wimp when it comes to dentists and painful things happening in my mouth so I’m planning on being completely incapacitated for a sold few days.
***
In my summer idleness, I’ve discovered that I miss writing my column. I miss being pushed to take a stand and a deadline forcing me to articulate the mess in my head. There might be a new opportunity for this again, but it certainly won’t be the same as it was when I wrote for the Advocate. No editor could ever come close to offering the encouraging criticism and simultaneous motivation as Bob did. I miss the “old days.”
Even today, if I’m nervous about a piece, I shoot it to him before I send it to my real editor. It’s childish insecurity, but I like to think of it as endearing loyalty.
***
Since hacking my hair off, I’ve been silently willing my follicles to produce luscious locks at an unnatural speed. I miss having hair but I love not having to fuss. In the future when I get frustrated with my do, I won’t hesitate to chop it off again.
I hope my hair heeds the warning: cooperate or else!
***
In other news, life is getting more complicated as it always does before the fall. I’m hoping to handle it with more grace and maturity than in previous years.
I want nature.
I want simplicity.
I want transcendence
I’m shoving off to New York tomorrow and then Chicago with a brief pit stop at home to get the wisdom teeth removed. I’m a total wimp when it comes to dentists and painful things happening in my mouth so I’m planning on being completely incapacitated for a sold few days.
***
In my summer idleness, I’ve discovered that I miss writing my column. I miss being pushed to take a stand and a deadline forcing me to articulate the mess in my head. There might be a new opportunity for this again, but it certainly won’t be the same as it was when I wrote for the Advocate. No editor could ever come close to offering the encouraging criticism and simultaneous motivation as Bob did. I miss the “old days.”
Even today, if I’m nervous about a piece, I shoot it to him before I send it to my real editor. It’s childish insecurity, but I like to think of it as endearing loyalty.
***
Since hacking my hair off, I’ve been silently willing my follicles to produce luscious locks at an unnatural speed. I miss having hair but I love not having to fuss. In the future when I get frustrated with my do, I won’t hesitate to chop it off again.
I hope my hair heeds the warning: cooperate or else!
***
In other news, life is getting more complicated as it always does before the fall. I’m hoping to handle it with more grace and maturity than in previous years.
I want nature.
I want simplicity.
I want transcendence
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