I think we all have those life instances, as in a movie, where we are walking down the street after a “moment” and the perfect soundtrack pops in our head. As if we could simultaneously be living and directing our own life. Sadly no. But how perfect would it be if some random stranger with a “boom box” walked by and that song popped on the radio.
I think as tweens in our many diary entries we should have written in what music we were addicted to. Of course the NOW album of the time could have informed us or at least remind us. But how would it be to have those soundtrack moments replayed to us, from our youth. Soundtracks, like the films themselves, thrust us back.
Driving. Ears clogged. I’m trapped in my own inner workings; digestion, realization, thought. Not in a bad way but almost in a comatose state. The thoughts are foggy, sounds echoed and I can’t get my mind to waver.
Pop. Pop. Ears trying to find some release. Here I release as well. Set free from the coma and thrust back into reality. Leaves me wondering, “When did I pass Fred Meyer’s?”
In these moments I’m trapped like the pages of a diary; forever reliving a moment. More a montage of moments but instantaneous. From listing off characteristics of a boy I like to speaking in code about my unhappiness.
What we write never is exactly how the moments play out. They can get close but the tangible note-book page feeling never gets there.
I wish words came with emoticons that you could press and actually feel that emotion. For what it was. For it’s complexity.
These waves help me process small bits of my life. What I feel, why I feel it. I like to understand. What I don’t understand is why I let myself get to these places where reflection is needed , “hindsight is 20/20.” I wish that in a moment I could pause and choose to continue. Yes or No. Sometimes clicking No.