Tag Archives: memories

Facebook Photos

It is very strange to look at pictures of people you saw nearly every day, or at least every week day, of your life for 12 or more years and have there features become somewhat unfamiliar to you. No longer tied so tightly to a personality, but appearance that is less biased to past feelings and shared experience, good or bad. Seeing how those we grew up with could be considered handsome or pretty if they were just pictures instead of children you grew and fought and played and learned with.

It’s a strange thing, memories.

Complexities of Longing

Remembering people and places I’ve lots touch with makes me wonder if humans were meant to travel wide and far, even amiciably growing a part from people has a sort of pain to it. There is only so much time and energy to put into friendships, and maybe if we didn’t move around so much we would not aquire and shed the way we do, for it is hard to remain close over great distance, especially when years slip by. I do not know why it is I desire to hold on to connections so tightly, although human nature itself is surely the reason in part, I wonder if perhaps the isolation I felt from my peers for some time led my to hold so tight to the friends I made. Sometimes I simply forget, but if I remember, bumping into some trace of what we had, or the person themself, the waves of nostalgia overtake me. It is a strange feeling to be content in the present, and even excited for the future, while still missing the past. However it feels rooted to my extreme disconfort with eternity and mortality, I would like to have forever to explain time in both directions.

Strangely enough, this is probably also why I’m a pack rat, and a compassionate person.

I was just finding pictures of snakes

and lizards from Tipi Camp to show Adam who also likes snakes and lizards but it made me miss camp and that type of community and environment. At least I know I really loved it there and appreciated it. I still wish I could do the Young Adults program, but I’ll hit 21 before I’m done school. I don’t keep in great touch with those people, but they are dear to my heart.

P.S. I wish Clara still did her lovely little tumblr of the best drawings ever.

Los Campesinos! and Memories

The weekend before last I went to a Los Campesinos! concert at Lee’s Palace. I went with three guys, a friend of two of his friends. We went out to eat first, they all seemed like pretty cool guys. A bunch of engineers and a dancer (I am an engineer, I mean, I wish I had that type of coordination.)

The concert was a beautiful thing.

Performances always make me feel so vividly, I was overwhelmed with emotion before it even really started. I felt really close to the people I went with, despite having no right to. It made me feel vulnerable in a way that almost matched the music. But that was just the beginning.

I say that I feel deeply, and I am being honest. There is something so exhilarating about live music, about the voice of the crowd, the surrealism of being there in a room with the people who created something you love, who wrote songs that spoke to you.

As an extrovert, something about crowds of people crushed against one another singing and cheering and moving is incredibly exhilarating. Especially when I’m separated from so many of the people I love right now.

I mean, there’s a reason I got my first kiss at a concert.

Another reason I’m really glad I went with the guys I went with is that they were as excited as I was. Probably more excited even in some cases. We got there early, we were at the very front, we danced and jumped and became a jumble of thrashing limbs riding on the wave of the music.

Someone actually tried to crowd surf. One word, FAIL.

I didn’t really anticipate how strongly the music would bring me back to my first semester of university, falling in love, gaining independence, exploring a new city. It reminded me of anarchist books about traveling Europe penniless, and shy phone calls, poetry slams and running through the grass in the middle of the night, gleeful laughter and painful confusing and delicious hesitation.

I kind of just wanted to be held. And the crowd held me, so to speak.

The next few days I felt myself longing for the connection, I felt a loss for something that was fleeting despite its strength.

I got a ride home that night, and my three friends went off together, I know that they were just sleeping on the floor in a house too full of people, but it felt strange to leave them after sharing the best concert of my life. We hugged hard on parting.

The thing about good things is that they don’t feel quite real afterwards. The moments were so intense that they feel imagined. Drunk of the energy of the crowd our words perhaps were not as sincere as they felt when spoken. I hope not, but wondering makes me long for the connection I felt in an achy sort of way.

It was a wonderful time. I’m grateful I was invited to something so special, irregardless of the past or future.

I didn’t want to miss any of the experience by pulling my phone out and taking photos (it was sort of hard to get at lodged in my sock/shoe) but I found these videos of the actual concert I was at. Something I love about the internet.

I know this tunnel will end with light
But I can’t see it, I can’t see it.

The Zolas, Body Ash

This is such a nostalgic song for me, first term, and the new music and new friends and new boys. Falling in love with this town and this university… It’s strange the quotes/words that I find comfort in these days, but just as visuals help me learn, imagery seems to calm me somewhat. Anyways, I love this song, and the whole album really.

By saving conversations and correspondence I’m really trying to capture the interactions between other people and myself. Connections and conversation and mood. Looking back sometimes I notice the way I conduct myself changes. I am more careful about some things and less about others as I grow up. I like everything to be saved because I wonder what there is of value there and if it may be of use one day. I want to leave breadcrumbs which show who I am and who I was and how I changed. Also, lately, I think it might be useful for writing characters. I have friends who are characters and who tell good stories and sometimes I tell good stories too.

This picture is from way back summer 2009.

Time moves fast, doesn’t it?

I have fond memories of sorting through the immense number of rocks in my room to find some pretty ones to play mancala with with Erik Sin. I remember I used to wish I could find the ones Myles originally collected for me when he gave me this game for my birthday way back in the days I had parties on the beach with Mat. I can still remember unwrapping it from newspaper sitting at a old, weathered picnic table in the shade. My memories of the beach feel like daydreams sometimes. I can remember slipping out of clothes and into cold water, searching for tiny shells with Saja, playing house with the gang in patches of trees and gleefully running away with the squirt gun, hot sand, shortcuts down the path, sleeping under the stars when there were meteor showers, and making tattoos out of the milky sticky centre of a plant near the water and crushed charcoal. However, some memories are less certain. Mazes in the woods ending in campsites and old furniture, running off in to the woods and kissing, structures and designs made out of rocks and wood and distorted time lines.

Thinking back through moments reminds me how many there are, how much I’ve experience and changed. There are stories there.

It also makes me a little sad that I forget. That I lose touch with memories and many many people who have affected me over years and years and years. But I try to be happy, because time does not slow for sadness, and there is the present in all its glory to attend to.