Tag Archives: memories

Looking Back through Boxes

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When you’re the owner of a cloudy, unreliable childhood memory database, digging through boxes from the past is like meeting a younger version of yourself for the first time. Each class photo, laughably short journal entry, or overly detailed paper on the state bird of Delaware is a peek into the world of a focused, curious kid who now walks around in today’s lanky-limbed adult skin.

Taking attic inventory (literally) is a perfect way to chart the course of a life spent wondering and processing. The raw mental materials that would ultimately comprise the cement mix poured into the foundation of an often rigid structure were once still malleable enough to allow room for flexible movement of thought and action.

Hope. Promise. Excitement. Strategy. When we’re young, we overflow with anticipation for what still lies ahead and the pages waiting to be written. There is a hidden naivety beneath that level of optimism, but it’s pretty nice to visit a time before disappointment, disenchantment, regret, or rejection….even if it’s only a temporary trip.

Transporting to the past offers not only a nostalgic walk down memory lane but also a stark reminder of the brevity of that stroll. We spend so much of our developing years watching an hourglass filled with limitless sand empty at an almost imperceptible pace. At some point, we pick up this decorative clock for a closer look at the levels, and we’re shocked by the shifted weight.

It’s easy to take these modern monotonous days for granted, but they are all little limited editions just waiting to be maximized. The tedium of today can be the reminiscence of tomorrow. It’s all in the framing…or reframing.

A marathon is not run on a loop, and there’s a reason we crave scenic variety. But it’s better to fall from trying to outrun the vanishing sand than to be buried beneath it. At least there’s more padding on top of the pile.

Carpe diem. Have a healthy, wonderful, and wholly original 2020.

Adolescence Interrupted

Digging Up the Past

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Thoughts and feelings locked in our memory reserves generally lie dormant until they’re stirred. But there are certain emotions that tend to live closer to the surface, and I’m guilty of carrying sentimentality on my shoulders like a perpetual backpack filled with nostalgia.

It seemed this longing to revisit a very specific time in my life was unique, and I assumed most people probably looked back at their past with a certain degree of ambivalence. Adolescent experiences were either loathed or loved, and a primary focus was put on the present.

But I’ve never been able to scratch that particular itch. The roller coaster rush felt from swimming in uncharted waters for the first time has never been equaled. There are moments of happiness and periods of near-contentment, but it’s hard to escape the fact that the person who used to wear my skin was simply a better version of me. I’ve tried to express this notion to family and friends, but it normally falls on deaf ears. My ideas get reduced to wistfulness by those who can’t relate.

Thankfully, a beautiful, honest, and painfully raw film called “Blue Jay” fell on my radar.

I’ve long been a fan of Mark Duplass and the “Mumblecore” genre, but this vulnerable and grounded story painted a remarkable visual representation of that longing to recapture the enthusiastic joy born from the prospect of hope. To see the suppressed pain and spinning thoughts being processed during intimate exchanges brought tears to my eyes. Finally, someone understood.

An ever-present ache has attached itself to adulthood, and no accomplishment or personal sense of pride will ever measure up to the wide-eyed wonder of youth. Maybe I’m lucky to have had such intensely significant milestone markers as I navigated my rites of passage. But I can’t ignore the chasm they created.

See this film. Remember your early life and early love. It’s worth it.

Adolescence Interrupted

The Dishonest Mirror

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mirror2Our personal, clouded perceptions of the truth can leave us feeling less worthy, attractive, or capable than our projected selves. This negativity sets wobbly wheels in motion, and the small spark of an idea quickly becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy of inadequacy.

How many times have you looked at a picture or a video and found yourself almost unrecognizable? The energy and natural confidence we emanate during even the most casual settings has more power and influence than any static snapshot or passing reflection. There’s magnetism in the moment, and our trapped brains, locked behind bars of doubt and indecision, are no match for our instinctive willingness to shine.

This juxtaposition of worlds has been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve lost a tremendous amount of confidence in the last couple of years. Job insecurity, a difficult relationship, and a general sense of arriving late to catch the last train have all combined to take a healthy hack out of my spirit. So much time and energy have been spent taking a step outside of myself, evaluating my station, and plotting a strategy. Trading hope for survival, an easy smile lost its lease to a clenched jaw.

But, this last week provided more laughs and tears than a “Marley & Me” marathon, and I realized that I still had healthy reserves left to give to the people who make my world spin.

Sending our best friend to San Francisco was no easy task. Memories saturated every conversation, and accepting that someone who holds a crucial spot as a collective support beam is no longer going to be walking in to a birthday gathering, strumming his guitar at every opportunity, or staring at me across the net was a grain grinding realization.

But, these bonding days and nights not only reignited the fire of our inner circle, they lit the fuse inside of my dormant core. I think we all woke up to the fact that our sunsets are numbered and life’s trains can travel unexpected tracks.

I guess the hardest learned lessons have to follow some tough teaching.

Stealing Minutes

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burglarSometimes I have to remind myself to live in the moment. Because my chosen lifestyle and profession make me think I’m stuck on a treadmill without any definable destination, there’s an inclination to believe that life will always be full of possibilities. The road will always be open and the friendships and established relationships will always exist in the same form and manner to which I’m accustomed.

This notion is utterly false.

Although I have been lucky enough to physically feel the same for the last 10 years, the clock has not remained static. The people in my life have floated in and out, teaching me lessons or satisfying some temporary void. The few, concrete alliances have grown at much the same rate and in similar fashions, further blurring the hands of time. So, a general sense of limitless deadlines has remained intact.

I’m reminded of the Billy Joel lyrics, “This is the time to remember, cause it will not last forever. These are the days to hold on to, ‘cause we won’t, although we’ll want to. This is the time. But, time is gonna change. I know we’ve got to move somehow. But I don’t want to lose you now.”

Taking a second to fully embrace the events around me—knowing that everything can change in an instant—is going to be my mission. I see most of my memories with crimson-colored spectacles, but I have the bad habit of observing the present, as opposed to living in it.

Although I’d like to think of life as a boundless stretch of open road, the reality is that the opportunities to accomplish my dreams or savor shared experiences do not live in a vacuum. People will ultimately settle into whatever existence they’ve created for themselves, and that plan may or may not include me.

Everything happens for a reason…whether to teach us lessons or push us into particular directions. I don’t worry about a dismal future, but I know that an uncharted tomorrow will take a very different shape than the familiarity of today. That’s all part of the puzzle. The challenge is finding a better way to solve it.

Midnight Flashes

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midnightThe power of music to transport me back in time, across distances, or just out of my quicksand brain is something that has always been fascinating. But, with those carefully-crafted melodies come the inescapable memories.

With certain songs, the faint plucking of a chord progression in the first few seconds of a track is enough to rocket me out of my present pondering and into the skin of a younger—and often more wide-eyed—version of myself. I can take a break from being an almost-adult and find some peace of mind in the fascination of youth. It’s a welcome respite from the modern grind and it feels like a familiar visitor from a less complicated life.

Music and lyrics course through these veins with such potency, it’s impossible to listen superficially. When memories accompany striking harmonies, I’m defenseless. It’s like an elevator with a snapped cable dropping through a bottomless shaft. It’s futile to fight, so I acquiesce and enjoy the ride.

Maybe there’s an extra serving of nostalgia on my plate this week because I learned my high school girlfriend—and first love—is pregnant.

There are few musical memories more vividly distinct than the soundtrack to that all-encompassing, heart-exploding period of adolescence. I can still picture myself programming repetitive playlists of specific songs we listened to so incessantly, it’s a wonder the stereo didn’t reject our choices in a moment of sentient defiance.

We spent more nights than I could count, pulling the blankets over our heads, blocking out the burden of time, and living in a world of our own creation. To be a teenager in love is to feel the Earth spin on your finger like some colossal Harlem Globetrotter. Everything is waiting for you, and anything is possible.

I’m grateful for every second I was able to learn about hope and heartbreak, and I’ll never forget the artists and albums that held my hand through all the hills and valleys. I take comfort knowing I can travel back there whenever I choose—and whenever I need to be reminded of where I’ve been and where I’m going.

It only takes the push of a button. So…I guess I’ll hear you soon.