Lightning Ponders the Passage of Time

Alright.

I just got home from my first year of college, and I honeslty can not believe it. Because I remember yesterday was the day me and my two brothers were the first to reach center field, the first in a soon to be dog pile of graduating seniors throwing our hats up. That was litterally yesterday.

Or was it? Obviously not, but I think it's because I think of it often - or rather, feel it often. Like that golden summer two years ago. The one I spent most of my time on FEW and made sprites and listened to Desendents music. Every time I hear "Cool to Be You" (Desendents) I get a feeling - a feeling, really - washed over me like a flavored nestagia of exactly that period in time. I can feel it, and it doesn't seem liek that long ago. I remember my cat's death being not that long to, because it also gave me an extended period feeling - again not an emoition (although that time was very emoitional) a psyical FEELING - that I can recall. Last summer had the same flavor. I sat around, did nothing, and dreaded work. Then returned late, wrote, and went to bed. Now I'm home and feel exactly that again in the pit of my stomach. I remember this last January because I mass listened to Panic! and when I hear them I get a feeling in my stomach that reminds me of cloudy days, working in the gym, and Panic.

So I guess really that it's these "flavored nestagia" that makes it seem as though things that happened a full 365 days ago were yesterday - if we think about them regularly.

And contrary to what I tell a certain friend, I finally get feeling old. I'm almost twnety. Anywhere between one fourth and one fifth - if I'm lucky and don't die at 30 - of my life is gone. Will I be remembering this past school year in a few years because of some thing, some comibnation of stimuli and constant action - that will form and be recalled?

When I moved in to my dorm room, it was hideous, unbearing, and cold. And now I'm even sad to leave it - not just the school but the actual room. I miss the school already and my friends, but I will get them back. I won't get the room back. As I packed today I realized the room looked just like it did 7 months ago - bare and forboding. And it helped me realize memory and perception. The room was the same, but the things around it - the posters, the hangings, the stuff - made it different. And reguarless it was muy room, a part of me now gone, even though I hate that hall, I love that room. Will I remember it in a few years with flavored nastagia? Maybe.