I woke up at an extremely unusual time for me today–12–and haven’t been back to sleep. I played Pokémon, won me a gym badge, and then got online and, as per usual, went straight to tumblr to catch up to today’s picture spams. Then, as per usual during a day I’m home, I started thinking.
“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live,” Albus Dumbledore so wisely said once. Well, I have been dwelling on dreams for a while now, I don’t think to the point of forgetting to live, but definitely dwelling. Creepy dreams of my dad alive once again with me knowing he would die again, dreams of him hugging me, dreams of my grandmother, and as is the norm with me, weird dreams that don’t make an ounce of sense. But what about dwelling on memories? Couldn’t that be worse than dwelling on dreams?
Lately, I’ve been increasingly more nostalgic. I remember the good things, not the infuriatingly frustrating things about a person (my dad included). Isn’t that the way it always is? Remember the good times, shut out the bad things, the things that made you want to get away and to separate yourself and the growing apart…or, if it’s a death, the good things they did, the funny moments, the wonderful qualities, but hardly the temper while working on a car, the burning of meat because of falling asleep while barbecuing 99% of the time, the griping because we turned off a NASCAR race while the subject was asleep on the couch and not watching it anyway. I’ve done well in not sanctifying my father, I think. Mom and I laugh sometimes about his irrational moods and the double standard he set while griping at us for taking a long time to get ready, but by the time we were ready, he wasn’t ready. We laugh about them, but more importantly, we acknowledge them.
With you, I’ve been harsher to myself. I think, with disgust, often about my unrealistic expectations and my histrionic and melodramatic tendencies and find a kind of kinship in Asuka Langley Soryu from Evangelion, who really kind of is a braver version of my fourteen-year-old self…well, without the piloting an Eva kinda thing. Actually, she’s kind of like me all throughout high school. The point is, I can hardly see positive things about myself, and that sucks. I’d like to think I’m a better person than I paint myself to be in my memories, but I don’t know, because I only know what I think I was, and god, ever since I was 11, I never could really distinguish the depression and the anger I felt from how I should act. And work, if nothing else, has taught me that No Matter What, you must act stoic and cheerful and be A Great Cashier by separating how you feel from how you act. But I don’t think being dishonest with someone who’s much closer than a customer is the way to go. So how do I balance these unrealistic expectations with how I act upon them? I still don’t know.
I take after my dad in a lot of ways. I get easily pissed off if I’m working on fixing something, though it usually ends in tears for me rather than bitching at someone (such as when I tried to put childproof lever things on our kitchen cabinets and ended up just sitting in the floor and crying because I felt like a failure — over childproof locks, how stupid is that??). But, unlike me who cries at everything from commercials to not putting on locks, I only saw my dad cry once, at his sister’s memorial service/funeral. I’m like a more crying version of my mother in this way. I feel so many things and I don’t know how to handle them so I just stuff them away until one day I have a breakdown and then things are fine again after that, rinse, repeat.
But I’ve been having a hard time with memories lately. I don’t know how I went off on a tangent like that, but it does relate, so I suppose it’s not much of a tangent (however, this sentence is). Anyway, I’ve been nostalgic for a time that I’m sure is much more golden in my head than it was at the time. But I know that with some things, with most things, it’s not. It was wonderful just the way I’m remembering it. And I miss that.
I wonder if you ever think of me, of us. Lately, I do.
The flow of time is always cruel…
Its speed seems different for each person but no one can change it…
A thing that doesn’t change with time is a memory of younger days…
-Sheik, Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time