Misplaced Moments

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Life is a series of events stringed together in what’s commonly known as time… these events are then gathered & stored in the database of your mind for you to suffer or glory in for the rest of your days, or at least until your retrieval process starts getting clouded by the distortion of age and Alzheimer’s.

I don’t ever want to forget my series of events. I want to remember all of it, each and every single glory-filled, unproud, depressing, inspiring, lackluster, shining, and self-loathing moment:

Like the time I showed up at work with no sleep after a night of binging on mind-altering chemical drugs at a rave and I left the store to get a coffee only to return and get my ass reamed out by some micro-managing delusional angry little fuck with a superiority complex… so I did what any self-respecting severely hung-over and slightly-still-tweaked employee would do, and wrote I QUIT in gigantic Red letters on the store schedule, grabbed my shit and left with my finger held high in the air…

Or that time that I moved out and my parents told me to take my opinionated loudmouthed bird with me. I told them I would be back to pick him up after I got settled in at my new place. But that never happened because I got a call from my dad a few days later telling me that he woke up that morning to find my bird keeled over in the bottom of his cage and that it was actually my fault that he died because he died of a broken heart.

Or that time I ran inside and literally slammed my then 9 year olds sisters head against the wall because her (in her wisdom) yelled out “she’s only 14” to my then 16 year old boyfriend who was kind of under the impression that I was older, and hey at 16 years old, there’s a big difference between 14 and 16 and when your little sister is standing at the front door shouting out your age over a megaphone for all to hear what choice did he have but to speed off and leave me in the dust to wallow in my 14 year old remorse…. But just for the record “FUCK YOU RICHARD”!

Or that time that an old friend named Roberto returned to the neighbourhood after a three year hiatus and dropped in to say hi, but me in my state of shock and fear about what my controlling jealous and hot headed boyfriend would think left me standing at the door saying “where do I know you from? I’m sorry I don’t remember you” and I cried into my pillow that night when I recalled the look on his face as I not only broke his heart but completely invalidated him as a human being. And if I saw him today I would hug him so tightly that he might think I was trying to cut off his circulation, and I would say “I am sorry… I am so unbelievably sorry… I did remember you… And I still do.”

Or when I met my grandfather for the first time as a 25 year old woman because he neglected my dad for all those years, completely shutting him (and us) out of his life… even slammed the door in his face when he showed up on his doorstep (which isn’t easy when he lives in Manchester). So suddenly he wants to make up and I was expected to follow suit, and I stood there before this old teary regret-filled man feeling nothing but sorry for him as he said “I’m sorry I missed everything.” And all I could think about is how I should feel something for this man, but I don’t… I don’t feel anything. I know he’s my grandfather but it’s just not there! He’s a stranger to me.

Or the time that I had my guts spilled all over the operating room table and I could see the reflection of my self in the industrial looking light above me and the nurse to my side held my hand and calmed me as I frantically told her “I can’t breathe… I’m not breathing… I can’t feel my chest moving… I’m not breathing” and she answered “I promise you that you are still breathing, you just can’t feel it because of the anesthesia. And as stupid as that sounds, that was EXACTLY what I needed to hear at that precise moment and I loved that nurse for telling me and I loved her for the way she told me.

You see, and it’s moments like these and others that make up the series of events that is my life. And you, you have a series of events that makes up YOUR life! And there’s nothing sadder than forgetting… And if I could have just one wish, it would be that none of us would ever forget, or pretend to forget another single moment.

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11 thoughts on “Misplaced Moments

  1. What a reflection it must have been to write this post. I can totally relate to a couple of your experiences .. but the one about your grandfather was just too surreal…

    My biological grandad, left grandma alone and pregnant with my dad. When I was ten, dad took the family to europe and tried to meet up with grandad and he slamed the door in dad’s face. I never really go to see his face… funny though this grandad of mine had married someone who was unable to have children… how could someone not want to know?

    Kind of weird how some of us are delt with the same card in life.

  2. You’ve done it again Selina. Not only have you painted a picture that lets me see a little deeper into your mind and get a feeling for what’s going on there, but you’ve taken me back into mine. I sure hope that I don’t spend the entire day thinking about all the fuck-ups I’ve made in my time, I’d end up feeling like I have to apologise to a whole helluva lot of people….

  3. izzy: wow, that is a strange parallel. it’s so nice that we can choose our friends, because our friends end up being the families that we wish we had.

    thenyd: i’m happy to have prompted your introspection, it’s never a bad thing to reflect, just don’t build a house on your reflection!

    i love to write my personal truths, even if they don’t make me look very good in the process.

  4. Well,I am trying so hard to forget some events of my life such as:death of a friend,car accident e.t.c.Memory is good but it has has a value cause there is the verb “forget” in our lives…

  5. Hi SeLiNa!

    I’m just trying to catch up on my Blogging…

    Sorry to hear about your accident. (I’m glad you’re OK ’cause you’re my good pal!).

    I guess when stuff like that happens we tend to do a lot of reflecting on the things that are important to us…like our loved ones and our fond (and not-so-fond) memories…

    Hopefully your little MINI can pull through too…I know how much you like it…and it tried so hard to keep you warm…

    Take care out there, little buddy!

    Your Pal,

    Zambo.

    P.S.
    I often wonder about all the daily driving I do, and how one day it could be me who gets smoked on the highway for whatever reason…and that’ll be it…a shitty way to go indeed…Anyway, I’m glad you’re OK!

  6. Dude’s name was Richard? C’mon… if I was your 9 year old sister, I’d have talked you out of that. His name was Richard, Selina… RICHARD!! Think about that for a second…

    Cool stuff, sorry about your grandfather!

  7. unfortunately there is a very big difference between forgetting something and it never having happened.

    what with my drinking i have wrecked my memory banks; they have holes like emmental. but there’s some needle-sharp ones that still get through.

    just when i’m happy, one comes through to burst the bubble.

  8. This is what I find so wonderful about having a blog. You can catalogue all those seemingly insignificant instances and life-changing events that make up a lifetime.

    I really appreciated your reading of the peice about your daughters at the Slam Friday. Perhaps you will compete next time?

    Anna

  9. Panos31: Nice to have you on board! Thanks for stopping in and for your insightful comment. It’s nice when we can all relate to one another on a human level.

    Zambo: Good to see you pal. How are you? I’m okay. My accident was a bad one, but I had someone on my side that day looking out for me! The MINI has over $14,000 worth of damage… So at this point, i’m still waiting to find out if it’s being fixed or not.

    Steve: A dick he was indeed! I know… But at the time, he was soooo cool, and soooo cute, and he drove and had a car, and all the girls wanted him… And fuck I needed MY head slammed into a wall.

    Henry: You are very right about that my friend. I can definitely identify with you on the loss of memory. My party girl days (ie – excessive drug & alcohol consumption) have left me with a few brain circuit glitches, that’s for sure! I’ve lost more than a few brain cells, but hopefully they’ll grow back now that i’m well behaved (errr or that’s what I tell myself anyway).

    Phyrecracker: Thanks, it was good seeing you on Friday too. Unfortunately I was in line to compete in the slam, but being that the slammers were LITERALLY following Dave around the venue to score a slam stage spot (and there was only 12), I was pretty much shafted for the slam and had to stick with open mic. That’s happened a few times actually, my lateness causing me to do open mic. I loved that Ariana chick! She rocked the house!

  10. “Best post ever” – Comic Book Guy

    Sick and tired of whinging teenagers who think their life sucks when someone out there really does have a sucky life.

    I love how you don’t want to forget the bad days either for those are the ones that either strenghten our resolve to make things better or destroy our souls and make things worse.

    Bad made you good just like good made you naughty. Oh so very naughty.

    “Hmmmmm naughty” – Homer

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