Amandalyn W

I’m sitting in my room at 3 am, trying to get some reading done before a class tomorrow, and I randomly smelt what reminded me of my great uncle and aunt’s house in Marathon, Greece. It seemed to be a mixture of the lemon trees, fresh Aegean air and grilled fish, and I was instantly transported to last summer.

Have you ever suddenly had some sort of sensation - whether it be of smell, taste, whatever - that reminds you vividly of someplace or some person? I love that feeling. It’s like self-timetravel. You can stay exactly where you are, in the present moment, yet you’re somehow not “here” at all. Everything moves back to a specific time and place and it’s almost as if you were just there. As if no time has passed at all

I’m just going to clear my head. I’m going to forget about the perceptions I have of people and the world and start fresh. I’ll pretend that I’ve never made a judgement before and I have no former knowledge. I’m a newly sanded block of wood, my past smoothed over by the work of insight. I’ve seen arguments, I’ve heard opinions, and I don’t want it. I want to start over, drain my head of what I think I know, and go from there. I’m new and I’m ready to be molded once again.It seems though, that the sawdust from sanding that block of wood never really clears off. As much as I hope it will, the sawdust remains throughout my attempts to start over. My past cannot be erased from my memory, therefore it can’t be erased from my perceptions.Do you think maybe we weren’t meant to be objective? Do you think maybe what makes cultures so different and opinions so passionate is that we are anything but objective? Maybe the act of being subjective to our own situations is completely human. “Subjectivity” doesn’t have to be synonymous with “self-absorbed”. I think it’s just the realization that you cannot be sanded down, you cannot be completely objective, because as long as you have a memory, you have judgements and theories based on experience. We can empathize with others and understand where someone is coming from. But no matter what, we’ll never lose our personal view of the world. I think that’s the most human thing we have, actually. Our memories, our experiences, and the perceptions that stem from them.

Lost love is still love, Eddie. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.– Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In Heaven (via bookmania)

I’m too young to be thinking seriously about where my education is going, what kind of career I want in my all too close future. But I do because I live in a culture with pre-law, pre-med and pre-millionaire students who have a plan. I live with kids who will make plenty of money in their  futures, who have career goals and know what classes they’re taking for the next 7 semesters.

The difference between myself and these other students is that I have not a clue what I want to do. I know what makes me smile, though. I know what makes my heart beat faster and what gives me goosebumps. I know what makes me close my eyes and get lost in melodies. I know what I love, and even though it probably won’t make me a lot of money one day, even though I’m not healing helpless people and solving the judicial issues of our nation, I’m happy when I’m immersed in music. I’m happy and I’m at peace and I know that counts for something.