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thespian86 · 06-30-2009, 12:00 PM

Memories are the equivalent of religion for me; something I want to save me, or enlighten me, or caress me. I am just to logically inclined to connect with anything in such an emotional way. Often they are just thoughts. I wish they held more power.

I do suffer from a serious case of nostalgia all the time. It doesn't pain me or elate me to revisit stuff, it is just hardwired into my brain. I remember places, rather then specific moments. I have a few:

- The dock, at sunset/sunrise, at this old camp ground off a lake in my province. I used to go there with a youth group once a summer for a week. I would go down to the dock and conjure thoughts of romance and heroism.

- A tree, surrounded by small cover, in the north-west corner of my elementary school's field. We would climb, and imagine, and battle, and build.

- Green Hill Lake: a camp as well, but it wasn't the camp so much as the essence. This endlessly charming green hill (well named as you can tell), an expansive and pensive lake; it seemed to never move, as if it were considering an incredibly complex answer. My first pangs of puppy love, my first public rejection, my first break down, my first triumph; I'm sure most of it belongs there.

- The house that Ash and I shared for a year or so. The way it smelled. The way it felt to be in. The space and the comfort. I miss the bathroom, and bedroom. I miss Ashleigh wandering around the house. It was probably the happiest I've ever been, while also being a terrible time in my life. They had nothing to do with one another. I drive past it all the time and feel like stopping and asking if I can walk around.

- my dad's homes over the years and their respective yards/areas/woods/etc (excluding my father's current home - I was a bit older when it was purchased). The sand pits, the rock walls, the tree house and garden of my grams. The endless woods and trails of the mini-home. My mother would buy me these lavish gifts, which were great, but my dad would just rent a movie, inspire me, and I'd go be a ninja, or a guy trying to win a girls heart, or a mobster. Good times.

There are more but I'm good for now.

06-30-2009, 12:00 PM	#8 (permalink)
thespian86 change is hard. Location: the green room.	Memories are the equivalent of religion for me; something I want to save me, or enlighten me, or caress me. I am just to logically inclined to connect with anything in such an emotional way. Often they are just thoughts. I wish they held more power. I do suffer from a serious case of nostalgia all the time. It doesn't pain me or elate me to revisit stuff, it is just hardwired into my brain. I remember places, rather then specific moments. I have a few: - The dock, at sunset/sunrise, at this old camp ground off a lake in my province. I used to go there with a youth group once a summer for a week. I would go down to the dock and conjure thoughts of romance and heroism. - A tree, surrounded by small cover, in the north-west corner of my elementary school's field. We would climb, and imagine, and battle, and build. - Green Hill Lake: a camp as well, but it wasn't the camp so much as the essence. This endlessly charming green hill (well named as you can tell), an expansive and pensive lake; it seemed to never move, as if it were considering an incredibly complex answer. My first pangs of puppy love, my first public rejection, my first break down, my first triumph; I'm sure most of it belongs there. - The house that Ash and I shared for a year or so. The way it smelled. The way it felt to be in. The space and the comfort. I miss the bathroom, and bedroom. I miss Ashleigh wandering around the house. It was probably the happiest I've ever been, while also being a terrible time in my life. They had nothing to do with one another. I drive past it all the time and feel like stopping and asking if I can walk around. - my dad's homes over the years and their respective yards/areas/woods/etc (excluding my father's current home - I was a bit older when it was purchased). The sand pits, the rock walls, the tree house and garden of my grams. The endless woods and trails of the mini-home. My mother would buy me these lavish gifts, which were great, but my dad would just rent a movie, inspire me, and I'd go be a ninja, or a guy trying to win a girls heart, or a mobster. Good times. There are more but I'm good for now. __________________ EX: Whats new? ME: I officially love coffee more then you now. EX: uh... ME: So, not much.