Digging into the past.

These are weird thing as memories. I had a very interesting conversation with a friend of mine before going back to France, about what a memory is (by the way, you should write a blog Thom because you are knowledgable and every time I speak with you I fell wiser, otherwise I'll be the one posting about your interesting ideas).

Memory is subjective, it's imagination, it's the idea, the feeling that you (and only yourself) had at a specific moment, in a special place, in unusual circumstances. To me, the best example is that picture of you climbing that mountain when you were 3. Do you remember being there? Do you remember how much you swear because it was hard to climb? Or do you just remember the picture, the story that you've build around it. That picture that you've seen so many times, you don't remember if you have a memory of the picture itself or of the moment it represent.  You end up merging imagination with a bunch of memories to reality.

Anyway, this is now a good time for me to write a post on memories as I have my head and hands into my childhood bedroom and closet: I'm literally digging into my past. I was expecting it to be in some kind of chronological order, but this is just random and would confuse any archeologist. It's unbelievable the things you can find in there. From dairy, love letters to pictures, old books, old toys... I love being in that stage where I go across what used to be your life: it's both sad and joyful.

First thing I found, my medals! I used to make gymnastic competitions when I was in 7th and 8th grade. I also used to love that pink jersey ;) Well, I remember very well that part, especially every morning and night when my back hurts. But I love that sport!

To describe the scene, this is in the middle of piles of perfume adds (I was addicted to advertisements... not perfume) that I found pictures of baby me, of me doing gymnastic, of my old friends. All these pictures where I was 10kg bigger (most of it was in my cheeks I think). I was a different person. I went trough pictures from a trip in Italy in 2003 with 5 high-school friends and that reminded me of that Truth/Action game we played on night, where one of the guy told me that I didn't have any sex-appeal... At that time he didn't even break my heart because I had no idea of what that meant :s

It has also been a long, painful and thoughtful moment when I went across two of my dearest old friends pictures and letters. In Eat, Pray and Love, she (Elizabeth Gilbert) calls them Soulmates. These persons that just happened to be in your way, at one point of your life. You share something incredible with them, and they give you something you really needed at that moment, and then disappear (they just continue their own life in a dimension that doesn't include yours anymore). I found them being more and more selfish, cruel to me. Them going away she says, hurts you a lot and makes you feel empty. That's how I felt at that time, and even 10 years after, I still have this emptiness when I think of them (you don't need names, you get the idea, and I'm sure you got your own). Loosing them made me both weaker and stronger. I'm not sure of what I'll do in the case where I met them again. I got so much love, then so much hate against them, that I hope now disinterest is my state towards them. I keep thinking they'll probably be sad I didn't become the person they'd wish I became, but on the other hand I'm happy and I don't really care. But me getting back into these letters and pictures of what used to be those I used to love, was a great step as I realize I would not love them as much today. I've changed but I kept thinking of the good part of them. Now it's ok, I understand why they are gone, and that's for good.

Anyway, they participated in who I am right now, and I'm thankful for that. One of them brought me a strong friendship, spirituality and simplicity, when I was confused. The other one brought me fantasy, utopia, nonconformity, too much love and a bit of craziness. They gave me my hint of philosophy and my love for writing. 

I don't know if they left because I took the best of them to evolve myself or if I just unconsciously let them go because I didn't need them anymore. Anyway, sometimes I realize that I do things because they once lead me on that path.I don't know what I brought to them but I bet you they have a very different memory of that time, compare to how I remember it!

In the middle of my high-school textbooks, I also find music CD! Do you remember Boyzone? These 5 irish guys, in the mid 90's? So gooood (hurm, only one or two songs... this is too girly/teenager/soapy to me now)! But listening to them this afternoon brought very good memories, my first travels, my first love, my bitchy friends... and helped diluting this out. It was delightful to hear that boys-band music to clean up your old bedroom and hidden memories! Of course you remember the lyrics by heart... :s even 17 years after! "Let start a brand new story now!" so they say!

But I need to get my head out of all this old-scary-me world, it's gonna make me sick. Time to move on, and come back to Toronto!

And just to improve your french and the idea of what it was to grow up in the 90's:

Bref j'ai grandi dans les années 90.