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Love : Baggage Claim

Looking for love is like being at baggage claim.

You stand there, watching them go by and every once in awhile you think “Oh, that could be mine.” You get a closer look, you might even take it off the carousel. Eventually, if it isn’t yours, you’ll have to let it go. You have to put it back on the carousel or hand it over to the person whom it belongs to, and go back to watching them all go by, until, finally, you see your luggage. And then you can take it from the carousel, walk out of the airport, and continue your journey.

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If That’s The Way It Is, Then That’s The Way It Is

Yesterday I spent some time thinking about “the past.”

For some reason the past always seems to be filled with more fondness than the present. It doesn’t matter which past it is. My theory is that because years are condensed into a small portion of my memory I only have room for things I want to remember and those are either pure fun or pure sadness. Things happening now are spread out over a longer period of time… I guess it’s like defragmenting your computer. There are huge gaps between the important information in the present so it takes awhile to recall the good times. When the memory has been defragmented the memories are more concentrated in the area they are given. There is a higher joy/pain to space ratio.

I always seem to want to go back to “the past.” I want to revisit those feelings. I want physically be in the memories I hold in my mind. I try to do that but as we all know, “you can never go back.” And I know this. I know it will never be the same again, but I think I’d still like to try and create some new memories while I’m at it.

more after the jump

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Memories Long Since Past

For the past four (almost five) years I’ve kept an online journal elsewhere. Every now and then I like to go back and read the entries. It’s a pretty good time line and some times it’s fun to look back. I usually find myself pretty amusing and wonder why I’m no longer as funny or witty. Of course, now I’m wondering if I’ll look back at this entry and think the same thing.

I’ve decided that I’m going to periodically copy and paste entries from that blog to this one. Just to make sure there’s a backup copy somewhere. The ramblings of 20 year old me can be very entertaining and sometimes enlightening.

Now, I’ve kept personal handwritten journals ever since I learned how to write, but I’ll probably never go and consolidate these into one large volume or even transcribe them into electronic form. Mostly this is because it’s extremely time consuming but also because I’m sure most of it is mundane. Although, there are probably a few pivotal moments in my life of which I’d probably like some kind of personal recollection.

Let’s start with this one that was dated December 1, 2004 @ 8:50 A.M. I’m choosing this one because I feel like this is where I started. This is around the time I started making decisions and learning about things the hard way. Continue reading “Memories Long Since Past”

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Half The Horizon’s Gone

I often hear people say “false sense of security” when they talk about people attainging certain material item or even some kind of personal relationship. For example, getting a can of mace to carry around in your purse might give one a false sense of security. Another example, being married gives one a false sense of security.

So, what I want to know is what does it mean to be secure. If everything you ever thought could make you feel better actually doesn’t do anything for you then does this mean everything in our lives is false? It seems like nothing actually makes one secure, so is “security” a made up term, like “love”? (I’ll save the Love theory for another entry)

It actually angers me a little when people say that now, as if they are so much more “secure” and perhaps that’s not even what they intended it to mean. Perhaps they realize that they do the same thing and find themselves feeling falsely secure as well. Still, one shouldn’t trivialize something someone else has so much faith in. That bugs me.

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Live Through This…

and you won’t look back

There’s one thing I want to say, so I’ll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I’m not sorry I met you
I’m not sorry it’s over
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to say

I’m not sorry there’s nothing to say

When ever a relationship ends I turn to the usual suspects to for comfort. My aunt, my cousin, strangers, music, and movies.

My aunt has been through everything I’ve been through but about 10 years before me. We’re undoubtedly different people, but she has experienced a lot of what I’m just now going through. I suppose it’s not so much that I turn to her for understanding and empathy but more for insight and word of what it’s like once I pass through the tunnel. She knows what’s waiting on the other side for me and has the flashlight to guide me through.

I turn to my cousin for empathy and a little bit of that Sex In The City mindset. She lives in New York, Hong Kong before that. Although she is a few years my youth (younger? Did I use that phrase correctly?) she definitely outranks me in relationship experience. This is neither depressing nor embarrassing for me. There are other parts of life in which I hold more experience. We depend on each other for different insight, especially since a lot of the time our opinions are quite varied. I still appreciate her advice and her positive attitude that sometimes I lack.

For some reason I’ve found easiest to open up to strangers when it comes to matters of the heart. They don’t have any background to judge you by and are forced to look at the situation objectively. Sometimes you learn things about strangers in this way, you get a small glimpse into a life they once had if they’re willing to open up. Advice from strangers should be taken with a grain of salt of course, there is the question of credibility and their objectivity is not good for certain situations. Plus, it’s just nice to talk to people and make a human connection with a real emotion that we all share.

Music is an obvious choice for a lot of people. I tend to make playlists of events and or periods of my life. Sometimes I will listen to the same 10 songs for a month and that will become my October 2006 playlist. When I hear those songs it takes me back to that place in my life and everything I was feeling during that time. Time capsules of music. I can’t even begin to describe the healing properties of music but I have a feeling you already know so I will just leave it at that.

A darkened theater makes for a great transportation portal. The only thing you can really see is the screens and then you’re enveloped by what’s displayed on it and what you’re hearing on the Dolby or THX surround sound. Movies are my escape. For two hours I can forget, I can be somewhere else and look at someone else’s life. It can be beautiful, exciting, insightful, confusing, mysterious, and/or hilarious. It’s a mini-vacation. There’s something to be said about going to the movies alone.

I’ve prescribed these things for myself and I’ll live through this.