And though time goes by I will always be in a club with you in 1973 . . . it’s more like 1988 or 1993 or 1997 in my case, but I get the sentiment. James Blunt gets me with this song, makes me melancholy. It’s unusual for me to get so sentimental. But seriously I tear up every time I hear 1973. It takes me different places with different people. People who are no longer part of my life, who I will likely never see again, and who I’ll certainly never be close to again. And yeah, there are lots of people who I’m ecstatic to never have another conversation with for as long as I live, and there are many moments with many people that I’d just as soon forget . . . but there were some good times too. Some really great times.
When I was younger I didn’t appreciate these moments. In the way of most young people I just thought things would go on forever. Moments came and went and I didn’t savour them, I didn’t pause to enjoy being in them, they were just blips on my way to somewhere else. Always moving. Ok, that was great, but what’s next? I never once thought this might be the last time I see this person or this might be the last kiss or this might be the last time we make love. If I knew it was the last, surely I would’ve cared more. I would have committed the moment to memory in greater detail. Wouldn’t have I?
Live and learn.
I’m so in the moment now, it’s difficult to plan ahead. I’m just so conscious. I have been. Years now. When things are happening, I know all I have is right now. I close my eyes and let the feelings wash over me. The way his arm brushes mine as we stand close. The cool breeze on my face, bringing the fresh scent of the season. The way my hair falls into my eyes. That nervous giggle. The way the light shimmers on our hair. The way the music makes me sway just a little. In a second my mind imprints everything to memory and I grin. No matter what happens tomorrow or next week or even in the next five minutes, this moment is perfect and I’m happy and I’ll never forget.
These aren’t the moments I get melancholy and sentimental about. I only get sad about the ones that passed without me being fully in them. Some people say you should take pictures so you’ll never forget. Yes, pictures are nice too. But I have those and they don’t help. Even in the photos I’m not fully present. My strongest memories, the ones that bring a smile to my lips, that can take me back and allow me to once again feel the joy and happiness of that time, are the ones where I consciously looked around and said to myself, “This is my happiness and I will treasure it always.” There are no photos to remind me, no videotapes or sound recordings. Just me, being there and understanding the significance.
So many times I have put off doing things, or decided to wait for better timing. Nearly always these things end up being my regrets. I don’t have many regrets, I tend to be of the school of thought that everything that has happened has shaped me to the person I am today and without those experiences I might be someone else I don’t like nearly as well. I have never regretted any of the things I’ve done, no matter how terrible, traumatic or stupid those decisions might have been. My only regrets are things I didn’t do. I look back and think if only I’d known that was my only opportunity or that I’d never see that person again, I would have gone for it. I would have squashed any of my fears that held me back and I just would have went for it. So I try to do better. I don’t like having regrets. I try to stay in the moment. Yes, I get off-track sometimes. It’s always easier to allow your fear to win. It’s never easy to feel very afraid and vulnerable but push on anyway. It’s hard! But that’s when the good stuff happens.
Sometimes I need to remind myself of this.
Drinking: coffee (i’m too lazy to grind the good stuff . . .)
Listening To: the city destroyed me, nathan wiley
Hair: damp, long and loose