Nostalgia
Nostalgia is looking at this blogger box and writing again. Listening to music that used to comfort you during a very different time and being surprised that it still does now. They say that smell is the most powerful connection to a distant memory. I agree. A man wearing a cologne that another man used to wear still brings me to my knees. When we have the ability to download smell off the internet we will need a more word more powerful than nostalgia.
All day I've been trying to think of a band that I can't remember (from another time). And find a CD to another band (from yet another time). All because I want to hear that song again. That song that played a thousand times when I was in that place with those people back then. I can picture it. I can feel it. But I can't hear it.
On an episode of The Sopranos, Tony said that "remember when" was the weakest form of conversation. What about thinking, picturing...am I wishing, longing? No, just remembering. Fondly. Looking back. Not on a time that was better than now. Just a time. A great time. One that gets better even as it moves further into the past. People I have lost touch with, but think of every so often. So thankful for what I've had. Even if I no longer have.
Every memory is clouded with joy and perfection. This must be a survival mechanism. One of the things I realized when I started writing was that I wanted to capture the accuracy of my feelings during the moment. The truth of what happened. How I really felt at the time because I knew I would not be able to trust the memory of it. And it's true. Looking back on things I wrote in the past I surprise myself. I don't remember myself. Somehow it's a pleasant feeling. One that makes me want to look forward instead of back.
All day I've been trying to think of a band that I can't remember (from another time). And find a CD to another band (from yet another time). All because I want to hear that song again. That song that played a thousand times when I was in that place with those people back then. I can picture it. I can feel it. But I can't hear it.
On an episode of The Sopranos, Tony said that "remember when" was the weakest form of conversation. What about thinking, picturing...am I wishing, longing? No, just remembering. Fondly. Looking back. Not on a time that was better than now. Just a time. A great time. One that gets better even as it moves further into the past. People I have lost touch with, but think of every so often. So thankful for what I've had. Even if I no longer have.
Every memory is clouded with joy and perfection. This must be a survival mechanism. One of the things I realized when I started writing was that I wanted to capture the accuracy of my feelings during the moment. The truth of what happened. How I really felt at the time because I knew I would not be able to trust the memory of it. And it's true. Looking back on things I wrote in the past I surprise myself. I don't remember myself. Somehow it's a pleasant feeling. One that makes me want to look forward instead of back.
