In many coming of age films, there is a scene where a teen thrusts their head out the window and screams into the wind to emphasize the freedom they feel in that moment. I had a similar experience—minus my head sticking out the window—last week as I began my five-day exploration of Maine.
I was recently out for a drive through the hills surrounding the town where I grew up—there isn’t a lot to do in rural New York—when I passed the place of an unforgettable experience. I checked back through my posts and realized I wrote about the memory, so I’ve decided to share it today. It was a 2017 post titled That Time a Permitted Driver and a Pastor Crashed Near a Former Insane Asylum, and, as the title suggests, it is quite the tale.
I walked with them into a darkly lit gymnasium and tensed up as I saw the colorful lights strobing on the other side of the room. Loud music was blaring, and the kids were growing more and more animated as we grew closer to the source of the sound. I thought to myself, “This is how people are ritualistically killed” as we drew nearer to the music and lights. Unwilling to die by the hands of high schoolers, I said goodnight and left the “party” to explore the campground.
Back in 2013, I was given some news that threatened to upend my life. I was midway through my third Klondike bar when my Mom informed me that we were finally getting family photos. Normally, I wouldn’t have been so averse to having my picture taken, but I had put on some serious summer weight that I didn’t want immortalized through a family portrait…
It’s time for another installment of Dueling Memories, the series where I share a one-sentence memory with someone and then provide three prompts for us each to answer. We then bring our notes together and view the shared memory through our unique perspectives.
The word “oops” has many connotations. For instance, one might say it when they spill some water on the floor, or they could quietly mutter it when they’re cutting someone’s hair. Unfortunately, it was the latter that caused the “oops” I heard today.
One of the best parts of sharing memories with someone is the enjoyment that comes from discovering the different perspectives you have about the common memory. With that in mind, I’ve decided to start a series called Dueling Memories where I share a one-sentence memory with someone and then provide three prompts for us to each answer. We then bring our notes together and view the shared memory through our unique perspectives.
I like to think of myself as a pretty tech-savvy individual, but that has notion has been seriously challenged ever since I started working from home. Upon learning that I was going to work remotely, I considered quite a few things. I wondered how it would feel sitting in my mid-century modern desk chair (immensely uncomfortable), how the lack of a commute would start my morning (a little jarring), and if I had forgotten any files from the office (thankfully, no). However, throughout all of my thinking and worrying, I never once wondered how video conferencing would be.
Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I, like many other people around the world, have been cooped up inside my house for the past week and want nothing more than to avoid thinking about the widespread disease. The problem is that it’s quite difficult to avoid it when there seems to be a new negative development described in detail every time I go online. And while I do hope to write more uplifting things in the future, it’s honestly been too tough to switch from my negative headspace to a creative one this week.
It’s tough to bring up international travel without sounding like that insufferable person at a party who can’t stop bragging about their amazing trips or, even worse, a wannabe social media influencer. However, I am going to ignore the negative perception of travel stories because I want to share a peculiar one from my time in Bogotá, Colombia. It all began at a Colombian church’s Thanksgiving dinner…