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Our Memories Thread

Sweetpea

Bluelighter
Joined
Jan 17, 2000
Messages
8,861
Location
Huntington Beach, CA
Let's keep this around for the memories we want to keep remembering and sharing. I love hearing people's memories and they're fun to write. Whether good or bad log them here.
I'll start- sorry if it's too long.
When I was growing up we lived on a street that was mainly filled with boys.
There was Rhonda across the street with whitish hair; she just didn’t seem to be around that much. I remember when she would always leave her baby carriage at the end of the street with her baby in there and the guys would take it offroading.
My sister always stayed inside. I’m the middle child so I was just as close to my little brother as I was my sister.
Paul lived down the street; he was in between my brother’s age and mine. His dad is Italian too and our parents were friends. My brother and him constantly got in trouble but they let me spend the night with them at their sleepovers….and I had a crush on him. We all used to stay up and make “Chinese inventions” and play Nintendo.
Ja-Ja-Ja Joey had a stuttering problem, Ricky had a white trash mom and a crowded messy garage. Christian was the kid everyone picked on and only played with us sometimes.
My brother and I used to switch off from “girl” games to “boy” games, so even though some of the guys didn’t want me around he made it okay for me to be there. From Barbies to Castle Greyskull.
Most of the time they gave me boring jobs. We used to have wars with the street next to ours and they would leave me under a tree and say I had to cover the base while they went and collected things.
We collected snails at Ladera Palma, tied beetles on strings, lit off firecrackers, toilet papered people’s houses. The best part was riding our bikes, we would pretend we were driving cars and someone was the cop. Usually when I was the cop no-one would stop , they would just laugh when I tried to pull them over. I would get mad and go in the house, but the sweetest part is the boys would come to my door and get me out again. We had swimming races, dog piles, and summer rides to 7-11 to get slurpies.
There was Barney the dancing dog at the end of the corner (he would run around in circles and bark) there was the old lady Nellie who had a garage that had four green squares. I would tell the boys to meet me at “Green House Square” which my brother still makes fun of . We would always see her TV flashing so Paul said he thought Nellie was watching pornos..of course we had a stake-out one night and looked in her windows.
There was an autistic guy that used to come around from time to time and look at his watch and say the same thing over and over. This is sad but we used to keep a collection of bottlecaps to throw at him. The only fun part of that was gathering the group together, hiding and plotting it out
I always think back to playing outside because it was one of the funnest carefree times in my life.(plus I was surrounded by guys) Recently when I was in California my brother was with me on Fourth of July.
He was hanging out with all the guys on the street, lighting off firecrackers.
I was just sitting and watching. My brother looked over at me and asked me with his beautiful smile if I wanted to do one. I said “yes’ all giddy and he responded with, “I knew you would”. He had a cigarette in his mouth; I watched him as he set the can up and put the end of the firecracker in it. He told me to hold the can, I told him to light it. He told me lighting it was all the fun. The whole dumb thing made me way too happy.
The moment he was setting it up for me with that cigarette in his mouth touches me every time I think about it mainly that knowing smile on his face.
Once again, I’m at a time where I'm surrounded by guys who love to play. The other day we took an adventure through the forest. Yesterday they were all going to another house to play Nintendo and I was in my pajamas and didn’t want to go. One of them kept pushing me saying I had to play with them, that they needed four players. I complained to no end the whole time because I didn’t want to get up and change and I had just smoked a bowl. Once I sat there and played with them,I sheepishly thanked them for making me come. It reminded me so much of when I was little
Moral of the memory- I love boys
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Your turn
 
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And we love you, Pea. That was *awesome*.
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Growing up my parents were all about family. They would tell us every day the importance of family.
I used to think it was just because we had a *large* family. I remember how I dreaded going to family gatherings.
Now I wish more than anything that I could go back.
We had a very large family. My whole life my parents have been foster parents, so there were always new kids coming to stay with us.
Sometimes they would stay for a couple days, sometimes for years. It was very hard to say goodbye to someone I had grown to love.
I think back to the time I had to say goodbye to Amanda. She was a beautiful little girl who stayed with us for more than 6 years. As far as I was concerned, she was my sister.
My parents love to eat, and even more so, love to cook. I remember coming home from school on Amanda's last day with us. I put my backpack away and started helping my mom shred lettuce for the salad.
Dad was at the blender making some Lebanese food out of chicpeas.
Two aunts, two uncles, one cousin, 5 brothers , 2 sisters, one neice and one nephew. Including myself, this was the guest list.
We all ate Lebanese food for dinner, and sat around and told stories, laughing. We remembered the time I broke my dads window with the basketball...and tried to fix it with scotch tape.
We laughed about the time my brother spilled bleach all over the brand new carpet...and we blamed my oldest brother.
We talked about the times we snuck out the window to jump on the trampoline next door...
...a knock at the door.
I hated this lady. This was the lady who always took my brothers and sisters away.
Mom, Dad, and Amanda went to the door. They talked to the lady on the front porch for a long while. I had school tomorrow so I had to work on my homework.
I wasn't going to cry though...not over a stupid girl.
I heard the door close and snuck downstairs, peaking around the corner.
Dad was hugging mom tightly as tears rolled down her face.
I ended up crying over a stupid girl.
Guess they do that to ya though, huh?
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awww.... Spedly has a *sentimental* bone in his body... what would griff say if he knew?? lol.
so many memories to choose from. i guess i'll pick one of my favorites.
we always used to go to the club every thursday. the last song was always a slow song. he used to always spin that last song for me... and dedicate it to me over the microphone. everyone probably got sick of hearing him say the things he said every week, but i never did. i could have heard them every week for as long as i lived. he would dedicate it, then he would jump over the dj booth and find me on the dance floor, and we would dance.
this was before we were together. before we were engaged. before we were... anything.
he spent all that time asking me out... and me, i spent all that time turning him down. but i never turned down a dance with him.
we had a rough time... where i got so sick of him pestering me to go out with him, that i got distant. i blew him off. but there he was, at the club on thursday, like always. and i remember when the first notes of that song came on. i remember what he said on the mike. i remember i was dancing with my friend jeremy, because i had promised him a dance, and i remember that when justin jumped over the dj booth and saw me dancing with him, i remember the way he put his head down and walked away, almost in tears. i went over to him, and i put his arms around me, and we danced. he sang to me, every word of that song... "tell me, the words to say, the road to take, to find a way back to your heart...." and it was in that moment, seeing that look in his eyes, different from the way every other guy had ever looked at me... the way his voice singing to me was so sincere, the way i could feel him tremble as we danced... it was in that moment that i fell for him.
and i kissed him. it was the most amazing kiss ever.
he sent me an email the next day. i still have it. i read it all the time because its a reminder that we once had something really special.
this is what he wrote, copied and pasted right from that original email, from years ago...
"when you kissed me at the club yesterday, it felt like the world had
been slipped from underneath me. that was one of the most wonderful
feelings i have ever experienced. i wasn't expecting that at all and
when
your lips touched mine i got chills down my entire spine. nothing could
have
been more right then that kiss. that definately was one of those
moments."
is it any wonder why i fell in love with him?
that will always be one of my favorite memories.
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E-girl
IM: tiggersgurl2067
*Choice, not chance, determines destiny*
"November is all I know."
 
i think my favorite memory of all time happened last summer...
okay, some background.
i have a friend who meant the world to me. A senior when i was just a freshman who would give me big hugs every time he saw me and always found a way to comfort me when i was feeling down. He was, and still is an amazing person. He was a raver, before i had even considered going to a party. His only flaw was his drug use. He used to snort some meth before study hall or do 8 or 9 drugs in one night, trying to get higher. Well, one fateful day in April his body just couldn't take it anymore. He took 4 or 5 servings of 2-ct-7 and freaked out. I remember that night when my friend called me on her cell phone completely panic stricken, not knowing what to do. I cried all night. They finally had to take him to the hospital and his heartbeat was over 200. I didn't know what i'd do if he died. Days, weeks, months passed and he wasn't there. I didn't know how to feel better on my own and i was so dependent on him. Every single day when he wasn't there at lunch with a big hug tears formed in my eyes. And every time i got sad my thoughts roamed to him. My depression was at an all time high. Okay, so here's the good part of the memory...
I was at debate camp over the summer at ku and it was the tournament. My friend called me and said, "He's here, wanna see him?" I was so excited all day. I had gotten so used to that constant sadness that comes with loss. Later on... there he was. We ran up to eachother and he twirled me around, and we spent the whole night walking around with our arms around eachother talking about everything that had happened. I've never felt so complete as i did right then.
Anyway, i don't think i could convey how special that was, so i think i'm done.
~lil
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"you will get this chance but once, don't let simple shit get you down"
therapy is expensive, poppin bubble wrap is cheap. you decide.
sn~ sparkleylily
 
Tina Molina transfered to my school when I was a senior. She was a junior, and I'm not sure where she came from. All I know is that the moment I laid eyes on her I fell in love.
We had a drama class together, and I guess that's how we ended up hanging out. She ended up hanging out with my lunch crew. We were very affectionate towards each other. She would sit in my lap during lunch, and I remember everyday she would come up to me and make me hold out my hands. She would then proceed to crack all my knuckles. I looked forward to this each and every day.
She would play with my hair a lot. She had a thing for guys with long hair. I wouldn't take my hair down for anyone. Except her that is.
I remember we were working on romeo and juliet together. She was jusliet, and I was one of romeo's cronies. When it came time to rehearse the kissing scene, Derek Fenstermacher, the guy playing romeo froze and choked up. They bickered with the directer for a few minutes before Tina finally said "It's easy, watch. Justin come here." I have never been more scared in my entire life. I calmly stood up and walked over. My palms became instantly wet. But I had to play it cool. I walked up on the stage and she walked up and kissed me. The rehearsal went on, and I sat back down. I was glowing, and everyone knew it.
Things continued on as they always did. Everyone kept asking me why I didn't ask her out. I would always shrug it off. In reality, I never asked her out because I always thought she was way out of my leauge. I never in a million years thought she would go out with me.
One of my happiest memories in high school was being able to kiss tina whenever ai wanted. As friends, of course, like they do on tv. Of course, that type of stuff never happenes in the real world. High school friends don't kiss each other. But we did.
When prom time rolled around I wasn't going to go, but of course everyone said I had to, so I told them If Tina went with me, then I'd go. Tina was a really popular girl. I din't think I had a chance in hell.
We were rehearsing for a different play (the odd couple) when I finally got the nerve to ask her. We were playing around, and I remember I was swinging her around on my back. "Tina, you wanna go to prom with me?"
No answer.
I set her down and she walked backstage. My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. What should I do? SHould I ask he again? Was that a no? I was torn. I decided to follow her and ask again.
"Tina, you didnt answer me."
"Huh, I didn't hear you? whats up?
"Oh, Um.. You wanna... go to prom with me?"
I braced myself for the enevitable rejection.
Her face lit up like a christmas tree. "Of course I will sweetie." And she planted a kiss right on my lips. Nothing different than like we did all the time, but to me, it was bliss.
That was the happiest moment of my life.
I never did end up asking Tina out. We went to prom, ahd fun, went to the after aprty, ahd fun. Didn't hook up with her, but I never had that intention.
I went to visit her at school the next year. I admitted to her that I had a crush on her all year. Of course she knew. Then she told me she had liked me too. After she was out of school, Me, her, and Jack Raider went bra shopping.
I never did ask her out.
To this day, I'm still in love with her.
-Spencer
 
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Why thank you.
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You got me thinking Pea. I was in a neighborhood full of boys too, but my best friend was one very special little boy named Derek. We were the closest in age in our little corner of the world. Middle-class suburbs, dead-end street... we had it all. The big hill for races and roller skates, the woods for walking trails and building forts, the big field for hiding in the grass come sundown... even a little creek down at the bottom of the street. There wasn't enough water in it to even reach your ankles, but at times it seemed like the ocean to us.
Derek was autistic. By the time we were five, he was already as big as my 10 year old sister. The day we met, he had never spoken a word, never really done anything... his parents loved him so very much, but they spoiled him far beyond reason. The big kids did let me play with them sometimes, but for some reason that summer I just didn't feel like being outside much, so I decided that Derek and I should be great friends. Day after day with a person who doesn't communicate to you in the "normal" way... it can teach you a lot about yourself. It's like learning a new language, only one that no school teaches. The day he spoke his first word, it was one I taught him. Standing in the living room, sun shining in, we were playing on the keyboard, making music, and after so much prompting he finally said it...
"Pizza"
After that summer we expanded his vocabulary a lot, but Derek and I always had our own language. Being able to speak without words... it's been important to me since I was five years old. Because of his sheer size and tendency to violence (although I never knew that Derek) his mother was finally forced to put him in a home. But I only saw a brilliant mind trapped in a body that didn't know our rules... and he taught me so much more than a few words.
 
(get ready for cheesefest, 2001)
It was 5 o'clock in the morning, the day of my move to Toronto from Los Angeles. Everything in the truck had been packed, and my family was doing some last minute checkups to see if everything was organized. Melissa woke up and and came to see me off, even if we had been talking on the phone the whole night until 3:30am.
We didn't say anything, actually.
We stood there and just held each other for what seemed like the longest time, and she was sobbing quietly on my shoulder. I didn't feel anything, I didn't let myself feel anything. One of my quirks, i guess. She handed me a letter, and told me not to read it until we had finally parted ways. So there we stood, two people holding onto each other for slightly different reasons. She held on to the boy who was leaving, her first love, the one that might have been "the one." I held on to the girl who was also my first love, the one who taught me about maturity and self confidence, who symbolized my past, my securities, and the old self I was to leave behind.
My best friend had arrived a lil bit later. Again, not much was said. It wasn't because of an akward air. In fact, i'd say we were too comfortable around each other. All we had to do was look at each other for a moment and we'd just know. I couldn't describe it any other way, but if you have a really close friend, then you'd just know what i was talking about as well. We didn't even hug...i don't think i've ever hugged the guy. strange, huh? No, we just shook hands and said, "later man, see you in a bit" as if I was going to see him the next day.
I let go of my girl, kissed her on the forehead, and said "take care, allright?". She just nodded as the tears continued to fall.
Straight out of a fuckin movie, i tell ya.
Got into the truck, waved bye, and drove off. Half an hour into the drive i opened the letter she gave me:
"I love you so much I wish I had never met you, to save me the pain of seeing you go..."
I could see blotches in her writing where tears must have fell from her face. After reading this line, my tears joined hers.
 
Sweetpea... thank you. This is already and officially my favorite thread of all my time here on this board.
 
Dagny would you believe me if I told you I wanted you to post under that arrow?
Please do
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Obviously, it's no coincidence you understand everyone so well.
I hate to sound so happy but I love this thread too. I've already thought about more I want to write
 
I remember the week I was in Toronto not long ago. I hadn't seen AJ (Femmme Fatal) in months and I was so looking forward to spending time with her. I had just completed one of the most stressful weeks I had ever had in school. I met up with her at a party (Serenity) and it was like we hadn't missed a step. It was so good to see her again and so good to be out of Athens. I didn't really care who was spinning that night, I just needed to talk to someone who understood whatever I said. We sat and talked about everything going on in our lives, watched the crowd, smoke cigarettes and danced. Around 5am we decided to leave the party and go for coffee. Half way on our trek we stopped, sat on the curb while she ate a hot dog. I'll never forget talking to her about Bluelight, what it means to us and how we have intertwined our handles into our personas while staying true to ourselves. We walked the streets of Downtown Toronto my arm around her just in awe of the situation. Walking in the coming dawn with a great friend. Outside the coffee shop we waited for it to open, watching the cracked out kids walking by. Sitting outside with our coffee in hand, enjoying great conversation, laughing our asses off. Afterward I walked her to the train station, gave her a kiss goodbye, and hopped in a cab with the most refreshed feeling in my soul.
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My Aunt Ada was my father's older sister. She took care of me till I was five. She did everything for me. To her I could do no wrong. I remember the last time I saw her, before she went back to Jamaica, before she passed away. I know I posted this before but it's the best way I captured the moment:
Seated at the kitchen table,
The old Mahogany chair squeaked with my every squiggle
As I looked up with eyes glittering like shiny new quarters,
Through my black helmet of hair,
To see her, dressed in her favorite blue floral shirt, the one with the giant collar,
Hanging off her worn body,
Gently tucked into her neatly pressed polyester slacks.
Seated on a stool and surrounded by suitcases.
My mother stands behind her,
Gently brushing her marble gray hair, into a ponytail, then a bun.
My aunt gazes at me, seated on her stool
Looking at me with eyes, behind a spider web of wrinkles.
The tweaking sparkle of her eyes glowed through her tinted coke bottle glasses.
She steps off the stool
Landing on brown leather sandals, slapping the tile floor.
She spreads her arms asking me to come and hold her.
I bounce off the chair, making the usual ruckus of noise
Casually walking to her, to meet her blanketing grip,
Feeling the once strong arms strain to hold me,
Calmly rocking me in silence.
I feel the comforting warmth of her body, seeping into me one last time.
As her muscles fatigue trying not to let me go.
As I slide out of her grip I remember
This old woman making her last trip.
And I, never to set my eyes on her again.
And her never to see me grow.
 
I made a recent memory into a webstory.
http://plaza.powersurfr.com/kellyanne/writing/blade.html
Another memory is one of when I was 18. I figure skated for a long, long time. It consumed most of my life, infact, for a while. This one time my whole family came out to watch me skate in a competition. I had lived overseas for a while, and this was my first competition back in Canada.
I was nervous. My stomach was turning over and over. My palms sweaty. Legs frozen cold, even after jumping around and warming up.
My 6 minute warm up was the worst ever. Splats everywhere. No music was played, just the sound of my ass connecting with the ice over and over. My beige tights were soaked. I got off, flipping OUT. I bounced off the walls of a dressing room for 20 mins while I waited for my turn to skate. I was skating last in my flight. I wasted time by thinking about how much I shouldn't be thinking about how bad I was going to skate. Reapplying makeup that had streamed off my face while I was in the washroom stall, flushing the toilet to hide my cries which would pysche up my competitors. I looked clownish to my own eyes when I finished putting on more eyeshadow. I blow dried my tights, only knowing they were going to get wet again. Soaked, actually.
Finally, my coach got me...it was time. I told him I couldn't face him, and grabbed another coach from my club, and his wife who also coached. They held my hands while telling me to breathe. I forget sometimes.
I looked into their eyes, and avoided my family in the stands. I heard something similar to my name being called in the rink. I drifted out to centre ice. The beginning of a piece of music started, but I got confused; it wasn't mine. I explained to the judge, and helped the music lady get my tape in. I reset myself, ready to throw up.
I started off.
I was strong, pumping around, thinking I wasn't going to fall. I did.
But only on the first jump, a piddly one I'd always struggled with.
After that, my program was landed jump after jump. I was thowing combos in. I was told later by a judge I had surpassed my quota of jumps in combination and they weren't even counting anymore. My legs were warm, supple and moving. Not the dead rocks they were in warm up.
I banged my landings, beaming at the audience. I waved at them at one point..unheard of. I was having fun.
No. The time of my life.
I pulled myself in for my final corkscrew spin, and ended my program with a flourish and such a sense of accomplishment it pains me to write about it now.
Later on that day I scored myself the silver (the first fall did hurt me, I guess) and several bruises from the disastrous warmup.
On the way home, my dad was pulled over for speeding. He told the officer I had just won a medal, and the officer let him off.
I never skated that well again, and eventually phased skating out of my life a year later. I can barely watch skating on tv anymore, and still get tears when I smell the mix of cold, ammonia and freon in an ice rink. I long for the cold lick of wind on my face, and the dazzling smile that would pop out of nowhere. I miss the speed and the daring of skating.
Most of all, I miss that day 3 years ago when, in my heart, I knew it was all over.
 
Last summer, I went to a concert. A festival, actually.
Now that I think about it, I was more excited about a person I was going to meetup with instead of the bands I was seeing. This was my friend Spunky, whom I used to work with at an old job. She was really cool. Very net savvy, and great taste in style. She was demure but was very outgoing when comfortable. I had asked her out on a date to the museum about a year previous, but she had told me, through email, that she had a boyfriend. I had accepted that with the old “the good ones are always taken” and sat back and placed her on my forwards list, where she stayed a part of a mob of people who just happen to have email addresses. Eventually, she told me to knock that shit off, and talk to her like a normal person and not spamming her all the time. So I did, and we started communicating. Not two sentences or anything but really communicated. I looked forward to her emails not because she was some girl I used to be interested in, but because she was someone who make me laugh, and was fun to “talk” to. (For a damn year, you were just a computer monitor to me. Seriously…)
So she came up with this idea that we should meet up in real life and have some fun. I was cool with this because I wasn’t thinking about “going out with her” or trying to “hook up”. I just wanted to have fun, and so did she. My feelings (a year later) can be found here. http://www2.bluelight.ru/ubb/Forum11/HTML/003390.html
Anyways, after that, I started thinking about her more than a friend, but I thought she was still seeing her boyfriend, so I disregarded my feelings. I didn’t care thought. She was my friend. A good friend, which usually means the kiss of death for anything romantic in the future.
I went to the concert with my friends with instructions to be a certain somewhere at a specific time. I was wearing this green shirt from another place I used to work at, and my bright blue cap. I pretty much stood out with my bright colors. It was my bright colors that made me stand out so much that she saw me in a crowd of 15,000 people.
I ran up this huge staircase, not looking where I was going when I heard my name being yelled out. Now I have one of those typical names that don’t stand out.
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I heard her, and saw her standing in front of me. She looked fantastic in red and white. I went closer to her, and she hugged me. At that point, I felt so good. Like her hug was therapy. I hugged her back and felt soothed. Like after drinking a glass of warm milk on a cold December night. Then I remembered that it was summer, and that I wanted something cold, to quench my thirst.
Now, we waiting in line for beer for 45 minutes or so, but it never seemed like that. The day froze from our meeting, and now we were enjoying our company. After the drinks, a band we wanted to see was coming on. Being elitist bastards, we pushed our way to the front of the stage. My arms wrapped around her again. I wasn’t weak in the knees. I didn’t hold my body back. My chest and stomach fit right behind her neck and the small of her back. We were close without being nasty, and I didn’t feel anxious or awkward for a moment. I just smile and rocked out…with her close to me.
Now after a few songs, I was kinda drunk, but still maintain composure. I held Spunky in my arms, and she looked up towards me. I looked down, and out of nowhere, I kissed her forehead. She looked back and smiled, and we held our bodies closer to each other. I was blissful.
Then I decided to go after Dave Grohl from Foo Fighters. Not a smart decision. I was immediately escorted out of the stadium, leaving her behind.
That was when time started again, but now it felt slower than it ever had before. I remembered that she had a cell phone, and I had enough coin for ONE call. I phoned her up, and she had seen me hop the fence to see Dave. I told her to meet me at the entrance ASAP.
I ran so fast just to meet her. I couldn’t wait to hug her again. I just wanted to hold her, and smell that Hawaiian ginger she had on. I ran up to the gate, and was told to stay 10 feet away from the opening where she was standing waiting for me. She looked so beautiful. She saw me and I told her:
“ I can’t come closer. I really want to hug you now. This feels like the Berlin Wall.”
She felt the same way. So she stuck around for a while and talked to me. That made me so happy that I didn’t care I was missing two other major bands. I was so tempted to break that Chris Farley-looking security guard’s rule of 10 feet just to even smell her.
Eventually she had to leave with a friend, but I didn’t care. I just spend the whole day (almost) with a friend that had become more than that.
I like to think that the Berlin Wall was that point where our friendship evolved into something more.
I love you, my friend.
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(Concerning Garry Trudeau modeling the "Doonesbury" character "Duke" after him):
"I've never met Garry Trudeau, but if I ever do, I'll set him on fire."
- Hunter Stockton Thompson
[This message has been edited by Furnace (edited 31 August 2001).]
 
Okay...this is bittersweet memory, but I am going to go ahead and share.
For 5 years I went to camp in North Carolina at Western Carolina University. Summer after your 10th grade year is the last year that you can go. I met my best friend at this camp. We were placed together as roommates in the dorm the first year and continued to live together every other year.
The last year at camp we had the most fun ever. We broke all the rules, played, acted silly and crazy, it was the best.
The last night was an array of tears, emotions, laughter, and recollection of the bittersweet memories of years gone by.
The next morning she had to fly back to her home. I jsut remember standing at the end of the hallway in the dorm hugging her so tightly and not wanted to let go. She lives in NC and I live in FL and I was so afraid that I would never see her again. Finally she had to go. I sobbed uncontrollably as she got in the van and I remember she laied down in the seat and later she told me it was because she couldn't bear to watch as she left, for the final time, the place and people she loved so much. I can remember it likes it's yesturday the tears shed, the words spoken, and that van driving away.
Well 6 years later we are still best friends. Neither time nor distance hinders our friendship. We've seen eachother grow up, we've both made it through college, and have been there for eachother to laugh and to cry and everything in between.
Thank you for this thread and for letting me share.
...I think I am going to call Jen now.
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Weep not sad soul, nor forget, that sunrise never failed us yet.
 
Really good stuff guys!
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on a darker note..
The Day I Grew Up:
I can remember it like it was just yesterday. I was 9 years old and so carefree. Mom and I were driving in the car, she was speeding so fast as always, and Unchained Melody blared over the radio. I remember being so confused...Mom never woke us up for school anymore. I'd wake up and tip toe into her room, sometimes she was in her bed, sometimes she was on the floor. Either way i'd tip toe in and shake her gently, "Mommy wake up please."
On this day when she woke up something was wrong I could tell. I wondered what it was as we sat in the car speeding down the highway. When she pulled into the driveway of a pawn shop my heart felt like it was about to stop beating. We pulled into a spot and I saw mom had tears in her eyes. She took off her ring and looked at it for a minute, turned to me and said, "Please forgive me for this." With that she was off into the pawn shop and I sat there with tears in my own eyes. That ring belonged to my great grandmother, who passed it to my grandmother, who then gave it to my mother. Someday that ring was suppost to pass to me, and then my daughter. Sometimes she's let me play with it. I'd put it on and sit under a light, watching the diamonds gleam and sparkle. I thought this ring was a family tradition, and I always dreamed of the day when I could pass it on to my own. She traded a piece of our family history for money... Money she would go through in days to stay high. On this day I knew I no longer had a responsible adult figure in my life. On this day I knew i'd have to take care of myself. On this day I grew up.
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You gotta be a bad girl in this world to be heard...
 
((((C Divinity))))
That was a touching memory.
I like your signature also...great song!
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Weep not sad soul, nor forget, that sunrise never failed us yet.
 
My grampa died this summer. He had been sick for about a year and a half. When he died, he was actually better than he had ever been. He stayed overnight at the hospital, and during the night, he had slipped and hit his head. He was hemorraging and didn't have long when I saw him at 11 am. By 2:30pm, my grampa, my hero, was dead.
I like to think that I reacted differently than anyone else in my family. I say this because a year previous to his death, I had just came home from a night of doing a lot of hard drugs, and I decided to do some writing. I started to write about my grampa, and I started to cry. I wailed. I totally lost it. Thank God no one heard me, but it was then that I knew that my grampa wasn't going to be around that much longer.
Anyway, the funeral was 10 days after his death, and I spoke about how I felt about him and the affect he had in my life. I made plans that night to go see A.I. with my girl(best)friend. We went and saw the movie. It was alright, nothing spectacular. But then, while watching the credits, I couldn't hold it in anymore.
I had just spent the last 10 days maintaining my composure around my family. Everytime I went to my gramma's house, all I heard was crying and wailing. Everyone was always sad. It drained me. I would be a brick wall, and let nothing or no one get to me. When I went to bed each night, wishing that I would think about something that would go through that wall like a sledgehammer for the soul. But nothing.
Then, after a movie about a boy trying to find his place in the world, I started to cry. At first it was slow. I sobbed, and then my beautiful, wonderful, flower of a girlfriend put her arm around me, and said "it's okay". She rocked me a little, and I felt like a shell of my former self. I couldn't stop. I started thinking about how my gramps used to pick me up by my feet without my head touching the ground. How he'd surprise us by taking us to McDonald's for lunch. The booming voice that left his mouth when he was happy.
I realized that all of that was gone, never to return. There I was, sitting in a movie theatre, wishing something would change. Then I realized a month or so later what was changing.
Everything. Everything is changing. My life isn't going to be this same glorious trip of fun and excess. Friends are leaving. Family members are moving on. It was the first time that I felt that life was passing me by.
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"Reality means you live until you die. The real truth is nobody wants reality." - Chuck Palahniuk, "Survivor"
 
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