A Long, Long Time... But None At All

Have you ever had a moment where you feel like you've been somewhere forever and never all at the same time? If not, this might sound crazy... so, I'll try and explain. Okay, for example, the physical reminders of a place are present, and constant, and remind you of a thousand other moments in time that have existed in a similar "place," but you yourself are very, very different.

The smell of a thunderstorm in the spring reminds me of late nights in high school. The smell of rain in the morning, when grass and leaves can't shake the dew and the sea is rocky, remind me of boarding the bus for Sea Lab as a kid. The smell of a fire burning reminds me of Vermont in any season. The smell of fireworks reminds me of being a girl in a hooded sweatshirt, waiting for a boy to hold my hand and tell me that the sparklers were as pretty as I thought they were. The smell of cigarettes and bleach reminds me of the smell of laundry when I was sixteen and he was nineteen.

I guess I'm a sensory memory person. Words escape me. Lines leave me. Laughter fades But, the sensory feeling of a particular situation will forever and ever put me right back to that place... whatever the place might be.

The same, of course, can be said for songs. They're like cheap time travel.

I'm in the midst of making a mix "tape." The theme of the CD is "Audiobiographical," which is an ingenious name we came up with, if I can say so - ingeeeenious. I mean, I like puns, and this is one of my new favorites.

What makes this so hard is that everything... every noise... every sound, lyric, instrument that I hear has a place in my memory. So, making a history out of music that made the history is especially difficult.
Because... what doesn't count? And, what doesn't mean something?

I can remember the car where I first heard The Get Up Kids. I can remember the boy who wrote "One Two Three Four = Love" on label maker plastic tape when I listened to Neutral Milk Hotel. I know the feeling of standing in the Met Cafe and hearing The Promise Ring, someone making fun of Davey's lisp. I can remember driving in a car on the long commute to Worcester State and singing along to The Secret Stars in hushed unison... "Hearts don't break, the division is innate, do you need to brush up on cardiology."I remember the first mix tape ever made for me: "Bad Mix," and I remember the playlist.

I remember.

But, there is a lot that I don't remember.

I don't remember how it was in my house from about 11 until I was almost seventeen.

I don't remember high school after I stopped caring.

I don't remember being me in junior high school; but, my besties disagree - apparently I've been Me for longer than I can remember.

That makes me sad.

But, as I make this mix tape and think each song selection through with the same effort it takes to recreate the actual moment... I remember.

Sort of.