Memories
Memories are all we really have. They connect us to the people we love, and to the places we cherish long after the bulldozers have come and gone. They're sensual - memories; a smell or a sound can bring a waterfall of thoughts splashing down. Memories remind us of the good times, the bad times, and the times we dare only tell those that can keep a secret. Memories are the reason my mother can't eat kiwi fruit (the recollection of getting sick shortly after eating one still plagues her). Memories are the reason we drive by old houses years after our families have moved on to bigger and better things.
Perhaps that's why I had to stop today as I was working on a spreadsheet at work. Listening to my ipod on shuffle, a song began that brought back a memory so vivid, I couldn't help but to stop and relive it for a few moments and remember the good times associated with it. Lady Gaga sang Monster quietly into my ear bud as I sat at my corner cubicle. She whispered the melodies into the singular ear bud in use, belting out familiar lyrics that transported me back a year to summer 2010.
Standing on the Loyola red line platform one steamy late Saturday night, I felt on top of the world. Mike and I had just left Jackhammer, parting with good friends after a night of drinks and debauchery. We danced, we laughed, we met a few new people (always standard procedure for a summer night out in Chicago), and left to walk over to the red line to make our way back home.
I don't quite recall why we didn't take a taxi (as we normally did). Perhaps we drank too much and didn't save the $5 it would take to drive the five or so minutes to our front door. It worked out for the best though, I suppose. As we stood on the platform, someone had an mp3 player blaring so loud everyone on the platform could hear it. Thankfully, it was playing Lady Gaga (rather than angry metal or twangy country). The song (Monster) carried across the platform as I drunkenly smiled and looked over at Mike, glad we were together and there at that particular moment and time.
As the train pulled into the station, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. I was already formulating a post for Facebook and Twitter, and I wanted to remember it (which I obviously did). The post went a little something like:
"We french kissed on a subway train, he tore my clothes right off...he ate my heart then he ate my brain..."
Now each time I hear that song, I think of that randomly wonderful night in a city I occasionally miss terribly. That's the way memories go though...we take those good times and immortalize them. Over time, the pedestals we place them on rise up and become these stories we tell that rarely bare any resemblance to the actual event. Twenty years from now I'll be telling the story of that wild night I spent in Chicago when in reality it was just a another night out with a few awesome friends and one outstanding boyfriend.
Perhaps that's why I had to stop today as I was working on a spreadsheet at work. Listening to my ipod on shuffle, a song began that brought back a memory so vivid, I couldn't help but to stop and relive it for a few moments and remember the good times associated with it. Lady Gaga sang Monster quietly into my ear bud as I sat at my corner cubicle. She whispered the melodies into the singular ear bud in use, belting out familiar lyrics that transported me back a year to summer 2010.
Standing on the Loyola red line platform one steamy late Saturday night, I felt on top of the world. Mike and I had just left Jackhammer, parting with good friends after a night of drinks and debauchery. We danced, we laughed, we met a few new people (always standard procedure for a summer night out in Chicago), and left to walk over to the red line to make our way back home.
I don't quite recall why we didn't take a taxi (as we normally did). Perhaps we drank too much and didn't save the $5 it would take to drive the five or so minutes to our front door. It worked out for the best though, I suppose. As we stood on the platform, someone had an mp3 player blaring so loud everyone on the platform could hear it. Thankfully, it was playing Lady Gaga (rather than angry metal or twangy country). The song (Monster) carried across the platform as I drunkenly smiled and looked over at Mike, glad we were together and there at that particular moment and time.
As the train pulled into the station, I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. I was already formulating a post for Facebook and Twitter, and I wanted to remember it (which I obviously did). The post went a little something like:
"We french kissed on a subway train, he tore my clothes right off...he ate my heart then he ate my brain..."
Now each time I hear that song, I think of that randomly wonderful night in a city I occasionally miss terribly. That's the way memories go though...we take those good times and immortalize them. Over time, the pedestals we place them on rise up and become these stories we tell that rarely bare any resemblance to the actual event. Twenty years from now I'll be telling the story of that wild night I spent in Chicago when in reality it was just a another night out with a few awesome friends and one outstanding boyfriend.