January 1, 2010

It really is strange to think about how our memories are triggered, to recognize the ways that our present interacts with our past.

I got home from my New Year's Eve festivities and, unable to focus on my book, I turned on the TV and began to watch Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2. I know- it is nerdy and does nothing to bolster my claim that "Yes, I do have good taste and a life," but I began watching at a particular part that makes me feel not an ounce of regret for my ridiculous viewing choice. One of the characters (Tibby, if you must know), was walking toward her dorm in New York City and I immediately recognized the building as an NYU dorm. I could feel my heart quicken pace and beat heavily in my chest. Since I knew that I was about to undertake this writing project, I did not supress the emotion as I normally would, but rather allowed it to consume me.

This emotional endeavor was complicated, more so than I had ever planned on it being, and my pounding heart sent my mind whirring. I thought of, and felt, deeply and intensely, that familiar heartwarming/heartwrenching longing for that beautiful city and the beautiful life I had once lived in it. This feeling is usually accompanied by an intense dislike of the city I currently reside in, but this was not the case this time around. Perhaps it was because it was the new year, a time in which most people reflect on the past year, this initial feeling of longing was accompanied by a feeling of general contentment. In 2009 I had graduated from college, began my career, and had made and maintained some amazing friends. Though my life was not planted in New York City, as I hoped it would be, it was blossoming here in Salt Lake; I felt happy that I had finally come to terms with a place that I had hated for so long.

Thinking of this development, of how my life had changed so drastically in just the last year, I felt scared about all the years ahead of me: worried about all the things I wanted to do, the places I wanted to go, the person I hoped to become. I was sitting alone, glowing in the blue light of the television, missing a place that had receded so far into the past, but would always maintain a place within me and my present existence, a place that would always be a desired part of my future. Allowing this emotional exploration to continue, I then realized I was also missing, in a tiny, completely absurd way, someone who I never had and whom I never imagined I would ever want. Confusion took over then, confusion over the fact that I had let myself want anyone at all, because usually all I wanted was for people to keep their distance. It was pretty intense to be cognizant of all these emotions at once. I generally think more than I feel, so it was a bit overwhelming.

This long moment of reflection was not a moment of experiencing the external, but rather one of experiencing the internal. I had taken a step back and allowed myself to just be inside of myself, my whole self. I usually spend so much time inside my head (Jesus, SO much time) that thinking takes place of actual experiencing. I soon had the trite and familiar recognition of the vast complexity of the human mind (which, if you have not already discovered this for yourself, can be so fucked up!)

But I suppose this is why I embark on this project. Because I recognize this complexity and the complexity of life and the infinite potential of what we think and feel in every moment of every day; and how all around us there are millions of people, BILLIONS of people, who are experiencing their own infinite potential of thoughts and emotions. I recognize the enormity of this project, the enormity of life, life that expands exponentially beyond my own self. So many moments! How does one even begin?! I suppose it begins right here.