Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Pleasant Distractions and pebbles on a beach

“Memory: a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.” Pierce Harris

Do you ever get the thing every now and again where you find something...a picture, letter or a certain smell...that sends your mind off on a little nostalgic tour of happiness?? I'm not talking pictures of exes that provoke huge "what might have been" tradges, or looking back at pictures from that great summer only to find the present day unfavourable in comparison ,but just those little things that make you smile as you remember.

Some things are special, and I know exactly where to find them to make me smile...my train ticket from March 13th when I worked at the Royal Albert Hall that is still in my wallet even now, the picture of the kids I keep next to my computer screen, old txt msgs at the bottom of my inbox that just fill me with smiles each time I re-read them...but some things are just random and can spring on you completely unaware...the smell of my after-sun lotion reminding me of that week in the first year where I was too burnt to wear anything other than my halter-neck bikini and top and Emma had to rub my shoulders with lotion 4 times a day...old channel plans from our big rigs reminding me of celery jokes and humongously confusing coffee orders (poor trainee Barista!)... old MSN conversations from during my finals where Superman had me in fits of giggles while we talked at cross-purposes about fire hydrants and lassoing small children or where Profound Admirer sent me Dawsons Creek quotes at each defining point of my recent life...each one a pleasant distraction full of memories of good times.

I guess the trick is to be able to let go of the rubbish - I don't particularly remember the pain of the sunburn, just the great hilarity amongst my friends that I was the same color as my ball gown for the Summer Ball that year...I don't dwell on the tiredness or the long hours or bruises acquired from the rigging, just the incredibly fun times we had doing it. I'm not saying I'm great at letting go, far from it, but as I spend more time on the pleasant distractions, I find the bad stuff melts away to prove that memory is a way of holding on to the things that you love, the things you are and the things you never want to lose. Everything else can be chucked away.

Love, etc.

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