Today my economics class teacher told me there was too much writing in my problem set. I needed to eliminate the words and use more maths.
I told him I’m a writer; I can’t help it.
(so tell me, is this what it feels like when you start to lose yourself to something you’re not?)
Perspective is an odd thing. People always say, “Look at this in perspective” or “In the grand scheme of life, this really doesn’t matter.” They say you’ll forget about insignificant events. But you won’t forget those tiny sparks of memory, the most unsuspecting moments in time, careless dialogue tossed at you, a smile that meant more than just a smile, a cold shoulder that meant more than just a cold shoulder. Those experiences will stay with you in a 90-second memory reel.
Each phase of my life is a 90-second memory reel, a collection of the experiences that my heart deemed important enough to keep with me. I move around constantly, forming relationships and gaining experience, and they amount to a few memories, mostly just glimpses of a lost time. I
suppose think sometimes feel know this is a good thing. It can also be difficult frightening ugh that realization you don’t want to have. I don’t know. I don’t exactly relish the knowledge that I probably won’t see most of the people who had any sort of impact on my life at USC ever again. So what will USC be to me twenty years from now?
It will be steamed vanilla milk with amaretto and a closet door that is consistently broken, my roommate and confidante, and our weekly power walks to Jacks N Joe, a boy, the Row in all its glory, my newfound love for snickerdoodle cookies and grilled cheese (it’s a serious issue), danny the man, British accents, condom water balloons in the hallway (mhmm, it was us), wine nights, you sneaaaaky mom, important (but mostly silly) life discussions over frothed drinks, DOZ, and probably a few unfortunate (but important nonetheless) memories.
That’s it. The first two years of my college life in L.A. As I continue on, even these moments held so preciously will probably disappear, gradually becoming only one or two flashes of memory, a few good stories to laugh over drinks. When I’m old and trotting along with my walking stick who knows if I’ll remember any of it? And that’s okay. It’s life, fleeting, momentary, gone. As the famous saying goes, “The only constant in life is change.”
So here’s to new beginnings and even better memories :)
(Also - SO EXCITEDDDDDD FOR LONDON AHHHHHHFBKABSAGHLLASHKAA)