there are many, many things i choose to remember and choose to forget. memory is reversible; you can remember as easily as you want to forget. did i just disprove R’s entire thesis in a single sentence? i remember the details of every episode of my life i want to remember: taking three minutes out of my study time to go to the Mech Eng common room for a simple cup of styrofoam coffee, running my first 800m in year 8 only to end up walking, the frightfully thin girl who walked by in the snow in her tall Chloe Doc boots in Greenwich Village, waiting in the biting cold rain for the 70 to arrive, waking to the sound of my fluorescent yellow alarm clock as a child as I woke up every morning on the floor. mm, so very many things. walking away so many bloody times on a leash of anger you kept upon my chubby neck only to dissolve it moments later with my own wrath. i am even uglier when i am angry. forgive and forget? absolutely not, you rank bastard. i don’t remember your face because it is hideous to me; i only remember the feelings – the good, the bad and the very bad because i am an eternal optimist.
every memory comes with music, and a feeling. this particular memory of mine comes with absolutely no music and too much hatred. i’m not altruistic enough. in any case, i say that we learn to live with ourselves, what we did or have not done. i believe in receiving the ugly end of karma, i do. i am not sure what brought on this memory of mine, but i need to quickly forget it again soon. preferably by the end of this post.
i’ve come a long way since freshman year. last friday afternoon, i dined by myself. no book in hand, no laptop. i sat, ate and watched the world go by. it was great. moments alone allow for poignant reflections of more recent good memories, like of my christmas in new york. this memory comes with Christmas music and metallica and glittery lights and crazy men-children. we spent six days in New York in the snow, feeling the need for a hot drink every now and then to ward off the biting cold. I took in everything: the yellow taxis, the avalanche of snow that kept falling from the sky that cold Saturday night, the blur of the Rockefeller Christmas tree, the snow-capped rubbish bins, the eternal garish light in Times Square, bumping into Sarah Jessica Parker at Polo Ralph Lauren in Greenwich, gazing from atop the Empire State Building at 9 at night and attempting to take photos of the view and of the glinting cars that looked like a sequined trail of beads running down the back of the beautiful woman that is New York City. I went to Barney’s and hemmed and hawwed over a pair of shoes at their designer shoe sale to end up walking out with a pair of much too high studded Prada slingbacks. I felt like a princess then. We dined at Wendy’s and McDonald’s the most because we couldn’t afford the cutthroat tips at restaurants twice a day and frequented Starbucks for toilet breaks and christmas toffeenut lattes and nonfat chais – my favourite drinks. we walked halfway across the Brooklyn bridge on a sunny day and played with the snow on the bridge, tossing snowballs and attempting to take photos of the glistening half frozen water in the sun. I felt like a child with my father’s camera in hand, then. i’ve come a long way, but i’m not grown up.
i also have plenty of memories that come with Hanson playing in the background.