This one time, at band camp--
Pause. You just thought of American Pie, right? Of course you did. Who wouldn’t?
Let me just interrupt really quick to say that I’ve been wanting to start a blog for a really long time. A really long time. I’ve started countless posts, but I’m always deterred from putting them on the internet. I’m working on writing for a mixed audience instead of just for myself, and it is a whole new ballgame. One of the things that is tricky about writing for other people is that I never know who will actually end up reading it, or what kinds of things they will be interested in hearing about. Or, vehemently uninterested in ever knowing about. So I'm doing a little mixture of both here I suppose, and hopefully I'll get better at this. Okay, back to my intro.
Hearing or reading those words would take me right back to the craziest night of my life. It makes me think of the people who were part of it, and all of the things I was feeling, and the events that had already transpired that led right up to the grandest of all shit-shows. That quote is just one of the puzzle pieces that built the story; it makes me laugh to myself at the memory, and sometimes cringe at it. But to everyone else: American Pie.
The point I wanted to make here is this: We are all living, and doing, and experiencing, and laughing, and making mistakes, every single day, and we’re all doing it so differently than everyone else; we constantly are making everything our own. Many of the things we all do are memorable to ourselves, but most of what we do is not. Most of what we all do is the daily, I-knew-and-expected-that-to-happen-to-me-today stuff. But when life takes a sharp turn and jabs you, or lifts you up, or catches you off guard— you tend to remember those things, and they become the great stories that you’ll tell. And all those stories consist of certain random, but almost always tiny, seemingly insignificant components, that surround the memorable things that happened-- whatever they may be for each person. And then all of a sudden, those seemingly insignificant components become the things that remind you of each story forevermore.
It is crazy to think that all of those details that make my life original are completely ordinary to the next person, and vice versa. It makes you wonder what people are thinking about when they laugh or smile out of nowhere and say “sorry, just thought of something funny that happened.” Am I standing next to the coffee maker that reminded them of their funniest office mishap? I could go on and on.
There is just so much significance in the little things in life. The sum of a story’s parts are greater than the whole of the experience, because the parts are always popping up to remind you and take your mind right back to those moments. Most of the time, you’ll never know when someone else internally relates a song, or artifact, or outfit to their own life, but the accumulation of your own little relics are one of the most curious aspects of each new day.
They’re kind of fun to think about, or notice on the fly. For instance, I can’t hear Drunk In Love anymore without being mentally transported to junior prom. Taco Bell freezes will always remind me of my best friend. I’ve got a 25 cent tin ring sitting in my jewelry box that I will never throw away. No one else knows these things unless I divulge the significance behind them, and launch into the string of events that one little detail ended up being such a big part of. And I love telling stories, so I usually will.
Except the band camp one. Wouldn’t tell it if you paid me.