Memories

Memories are you.




You cannot forget some.




You cannot remember others.





Some you wish you could relive.





One may be the very one the changed your life forever.


You cannot erase what happened. You cannot hang onto what happened. But, what happened is who you are. You memories are your moments in life.

Delete

I have never practiced sentimental acts like filling a shoebox full of memories, compiling a photograph book, or keeping notes written to me. There is something that twists in me when I come across an item that reminds me of any time that occurred 12 months prior to that moment. When I toss such memories like rubbish in the waste bin, it is as if I removed old moth eaten scarves from the recesses of a closet. Even the most cherished recollections are delicate to the nameless part of me which devours them. There are only some reminiscences that I willingly wrap around my neck and walk out into the cold in. What makes the fabric of those few untainted by inevitable ruin is unknown to me. At times I know the very moment I am in will not withstand damage in a small number of months. Something in me is urgently striking the delete button.

A Jovial Twosome

The only component of bowling that can be deemed as fulfilling is the profound satisfaction one gets when one glances down at the silly shoes that delightfully lack of harmonizing colors. I covet a twosome of such delightful foot wear for they have a jovial disposition. But, any time I glimpse up from the happiness planted underside my short frame, a vast displeasure at my surroundings urges me to run through substantial smoke and out the door….with the shoes still fastened to me. My whole being is in disagreement with the lack of enjoyment, unsoiled air, and music that was not performed by men with perms that characterizes every such structure where a weighty orb is plunked down in the effort to destabilize a grouping of off-white plods of wood. If the atmosphere is not enough to disgruntle my person, the sport itself will assuredly accomplish a similar distress. My inability to achieve victory at the sport is not a factor in my annoyance. In fact, I am relatively proud to say I have not wasted time on improving my proficiency of striking at the foundation of positioned sticks. My aggravation is owed to the uncreative and fruitless squandering of my existence.

I wear a size 5 and ½…..

Not every knot can be untied...

Oh, Summer. How I scorn your persistence to fraudulently unravel the framework of knowledge and expire strength of will. Each day I see how you swindle copious disposed individuals to descend into your snares of lethargy and self-indulgence. The words relax, vacation, and rest crawl out of your putrid teeth like insects. I refuse to take part in such a foolish misuse of life. Watching you dine on your victims of the masses by alluring them to squander their lives on brainless reality television, catnapping until 1 o’clock, and increasing their risk of malignant melanoma as they lie on the beach and “sunbathe”, only makes me more determined to defy your feeble enticement to embrace the couch as my profession and the remote control as my instrument of employment. I am binding the chords of my intelligence and self-discipline tight so not even your astute fingers can slightly slacken my resolve. In three months, as I see you decompose into the colors of fall, I will cackle at your end and wave my victory in your face. And with your last warm wind of life, I trust every page read, avenue explored, empty bottle of sunscreen, morning enjoyed, hefty paycheck, neglected electronic, and action of servitude from my days in the sun will be propelled like darts into your remembrance. It is my sole endeavor to make each day of your continuation wretched as I thrust my sword of tenacity further into your lie of finding fulfillment in amusement. You will anticipate the day when the first leaf falls!

59

I have made 59 paper cranes in one day. The term addiction is now a word my mind has inadvertently grasped to the dismay of my social and academic life. Even though my undersized fingers can collapse a bright sheet of paper into a delicate creature of flight without attention, this brainless activity has captured my fancy due to its air of sophistication and distant history. A thousand paper cranes is said to assure a wish come true. I have no wish. Instead, I hope to suspend a sea of folded bestowers of aspiration from my dorm ceiling. So, I will continue creasing until my room is filled with the tiny pieces that form into one life-size puzzle of promise. The feeling of my dwelling space will restrain one immense wish for me to formulate at any time.

Beward the ideas of march...

Spending 20 grand a year to engage in a world of ideas instead of walking on the surface of them and obtaining a skill seems a bit impractical. But, I don’t want to be so narrow that I am not human. I crave to be the kind of individual who reaches past the roots of my personhood. I desire to be challenged by the minds of men so my faith can be toughened and deepened. I want the ideas of hypocrites, counterfeit Christians, intellectual ideas, and my own pride to brush against the skin of my identity and build up the calluses of understanding. I want to change, to grow, to study things that are real to this world. Carelessly growing up and growing old into a comfortable thinking of familiarity is like stagnant water…useless. Fully sunken in challenge, in my opinion, help me to be a stronger Christian, a better manager of my mind, and more empathetic toward the misguided thinking of others.

You dream of colors that have never been made....

I want the sky to be a ceiling of scarlet leaves....


I want to hide in a sea of crimson umbreallas....


I want to sail the sea into a ginger sunset...