I was riding the elevator this morning and an interesting scent ended up filling my lungs. A girl wearing this rather iridescent dress of turquoise flowers got on with me. I’d seen her before- she’s pretty, nothing special. Doesn’t look like my type at all. But I did love her dress- the same one she happened to be wearing today. Not only was she wearing a nice dress, but she wore a perfume of sorts. One I certainly know from times long past. It was the same perfume that an ex-girlfriend of mine, Marina, wore. Now, thoughts of Marina didn’t enter my head- in fact, only now as I’m recounting this little story am I really looking back on that relationship. But what did fill my head was how my life was during that first semester of my sophomore year in high school. It’s kind of a lost time in my life- one I’ve willingly let go of because it can’t compare to the amazingness of Junior and Senior year and Idiot Ambush was realllly taking off during that time, so any memories of that year are locked into one place. And even now I have no real desire to discuss those personal thoughts and let them be open on the internet- that’s the kind of thing you discuss over coffee in a dimly lit Starbucks on an overcast, fall afternoon. But just felt like saying I revisited a part of my life today I hadn’t thought about in quite some time. Hah.. so much happened: my love of TREOS, the fallout of Ellen and I, my involvement at school, the birth of RTA, journeys to towns I’d never known existed. One of my favorite memories from that period was me sitting in Marina’s living room playing guitar while Mike jammed on piano. There were a bunch of people over, but him and I got lost in our own little writing session. That’s when I basically wrote Winter Snow. Sophomore year was when I learned I can stand alone; I can be my own pillar of strength and can carry on when everyone else has left me.
I hadn’t quite reached my full potential as a person. But I was getting there. It was a fun, exploratory time in my life. And I know exactly who I want to tell the whole story to. Which is why I don’t want to write about it now- I want to hold onto those memories and offer them up as another piece of the puzzle that is my life.. one that she can put into place herself.
It’s always been such a mystery even to myself: why don’t I ever talk about my past? All the people around me now probably couldn’t tell you what highschool I went to, what bands I’ve been in, or that I had a ferocious love for Dinosaurs, Power Rangers, and Digimon growing up (two of which still exist haha). But the flipside is, I could tell you so much about all my friends. I’ve just always been so focused on listening as opposed to telling. But you know.. that could explain why it’s so easy for me to feel lonely when sometimes I have no reason to.. Because subconsciously I know nobody knows my story, nobody knows me. I learned early that people come and go in your life and I decided early to make the most of the time I have with current friends. Dwelling on the past was just never something I did. It was like the HIMYM moment when Robin and Barney should talk about their “relationship” and the dialogue goes, “We could have the talk… ORRRR…” and instead they make out. For me it was always, “I could tell you my life story- or we could go drive really fast through a parking lot and blast away little kids at Laser Tag!” Obviously the latter always won out haha. And I mean, the truth is, I do want to tell my story. I’m just incredibly selective with who knows it. The other day I was clearly reminded Allen happens to be one of those people. He doesn’t know everything- but he knows a lot. And talking to him was one of the best conversations I had in a long time because he knew where I was coming from with my stories and my theories. Mike and Will knew me pretty intensely- sadly we all drifted apart… but they know more about me than most ever will. Still miss them day to day. And then there’s Harriet. No one knows me quite like her. And as I kind of already alluded to- I want her to know every story. There’s a special magic that emerges when I tell her the different parts to my life. There’s a fulfillment, an enlightenment. Almost like I understand myself better after telling her different things. I’ll never forget the talks we had on our trip to Starved Rock Senior year. I injured myself and she stood behind to take care of me. As everyone want off in the distance, she stayed back and we talked about my Junior year of highschool- what I learned and experienced at Dominick’s, how dating Danielle affected my life, how much I opened up that year. When I was done telling her all that I could think about, I felt closer to her. I remember going home that night with her and loving her harder than before. That’s an intensely special relationship right there. What I’m talking about isn’t just love. It’s so much more than love, romance, and intimacy. It’s about really finding that person who fills you up with something no one else can. I wish I could be less ambiguous about being “Filled up with something,” but it’s a feeling I can’t explain! It’s a contentment, a closeness that is indescribable, and even though I spend so much time writing about emotions, people, places, and abstract thoughts- this is one beyond my talent and understanding. Broken up or not, it’s a condition that doesn’t go away. Because although Harriet fills me up with a cornucopia of good vibes, there’s that X-factor as well that is something which makes each step I take feel right, every kiss I give seem everlasting, and every decision I make appear perfect.
I am a puzzle. As time went on and people kept coming and going from my life, the pieces kept increasing and they kept getting further away from each other. I want to find all those pieces and give her each one to put back together. It’s just a feeling I have. One I cannot attempt to describe.
