"our" memories

There once was a website of which I was a part that asked contributors to associate memories to particular songs. They could be funny or sad or poignant. They closed down their open shop a little while ago and turned into an online magazine, as best I can tell.

In any case, I had a musical memory experience yesterday. I'm not quite sure if it's funny, ironic, or (fill-in-the-blank). Reserve judgment until you hear said story.

Musical knowledge required leans towards the country side of things. Travis Tritt has a song called Drift Off to Dream. I used to think that it was a super sweet song, and for the most part it still is. The first verse, however, clues you into the stereotypical lonesome protagonist, alone with his drink at the bar, hopeful for the love yet-to-be.

That was our song. When I say our, I don't mean our in the current sense. She is a past love, one whom I talk to perhaps once a year. Last time we spoke was over the summer. She'd found out that I was engaged and gracefully congratulated me.

Yesterday, I was driving in my car when Drift Off to Dream came on the radio. I couldn't help but laugh because of my destination: the courthouse. The purpose? To get our marriage license. This our is in the present and future tense.

Though she's in my past and I harbor no residual regret or feelings toward her, our song still tugs at my heartstrings. Emotional memories get stored away in a different part of your brain. They are often illogical, and many of mine in Gainesville forced me to leave. I couldn't take seeing reminders of my past when I was trying to move into the future. Those daily reminders of past-tense our memories were more than I could bear at times. It often left me feeling alone in groups of friends, but unlike the lyrics, never with my drink at the bar.

Since I left, I decided to no longer let my past dictate my present happiness. I found happiness within myself and was able to find love to make it grow. I truly couldn't be happier.

When she and I finally met at the courthouse that afternoon, I told her about the song coming on the radio. She and I shared a laugh as we crossed the street to many more to come.

oncoming headlights

I do stupid things sometimes. Things that jeopardize life and limb. More often latter than former, but that's beside the point. Despite all the things I've done in the past, I rarely get an injury that can't be treated with ibuprofen.

Rock climbing. Snowboarding. Jaywalking in D.C. Biking on M Street. Driving on New Year's Eve. Passenger of a not-so-stellar driver.

Last night, it almost came crashing down doing something so routine that the sheer absurdity of it took almost 24 hours to sink in. We were on a late night drive to a hotel for an early morning start snowboarding at Wisp in western Maryland. It was about 10:30; no later than other long distance, late night trips I've taken to get to the crag. (Rolling into Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina past the witching hour comes to mind.) Barreling down I-68, getting close to our trip terminus, I saw headlights ahead. I didn't think anything of it until I passed them.

Those oncoming headlights were on my side of the median in the left-hand lane. Going the wrong way. The car seemed as if it were standing still, but that must've been because of our highway speed. Not knowing the number for Maryland Highway Patrol, we called 911. We gave the mile marker, and prayed the cops would show up quickly.

Riding back today, licking my normal snowboarding wounds, I reflected on what had happened. I'm more shaken up about it now than I was then. There would have been no walking away from that crash...

Will it make me more cautious in my dangerous pursuits? Possible, but unlikely. Will it keep me from driving at night? Not a chance. I'm not real sure of the effect it will take, but judging from my past, it's going to rattle around in my brain for a little while before I figure it out.

how's this go again?

I seem to have forgotten to post here lately. I'd make some lame blogger excuse, "I'm too busy," but that's a lie. Direct your attention more to the photographic outlet of my creativity. This writing thing just ain't doing it for me anymore.

I guess I'll still occasionally post here, but it won't be as timely, and it'll sure be less rant-like. To tide you over, check out some climbing action from last weekend. We had a good day, ate some Mexican food, and showed Bella how to be a crag dog.



When I got home, I went on a three mile run. She's been training hard, and I finally got the all clear to start running again. The Run for World Peace 5K is next weekend. I'll keep you posted.

my next thirty years

A trip across the radio dial landed on a Tim McGraw song I hadn't heard in a while. Kind of odd that it occurred the night before my 30th. A riff on the lyrics.

I think I'll take a moment, celebrate my age,
The ending of an era and the turning of a page.
Now it's time to focus in on where I go from here;
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years

I guess this is pretty true as this past year has been quite a change. Between getting engaged in March and getting married next July, I'd say turning a page is an appropriate cliche for now.

Hey, my next thirty years I'm gonna have some fun,
Try to forget about all the crazy things I've done.
Maybe now I've conquered all my adolescent fears,
And I'll do it better in my next thirty years.

I'm fairly certain that I had a good bit of fun in my first 30 years. It'll likely be a different brand of fun, but fun nonetheless. Example, I'm going hang gliding in three weeks. That'll be fun. I'm not sure what I was really afraid of in adolescence. Being happy? Being loved? Having friends? I guess this is why teen angst is overwrought and ridiculous when you look back with 20/20 hindsight.

My next thirty years I'm gonna settle all the scores:
Cry a little less, laugh a little more.
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear.
Figure out just what I'm doing here
In my next thirty years

I feel like I did this in my twenties. Stopped sweating the small stuff and started appreciating the beautiful stuff. Perhaps that's why I've jumped headfirst into photography. Yet another hobby that will compete with my attention for years to come! The whole existential "Why am I here" question will vex me for my entire life I'm sure, but I reckon I'm getting a better handle on it day by day in front of a classroom.

Oh my next thirty years, I'm gonna watch my weight,
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late,
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers.
Maybe I'll remember my next thirty years

No comment, but if last night's any indication, I still like beer. Good lemonade just isn't as easy to find at restaurants or bars.

My next thirty years will be the best years of my life,
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife,
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear,
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years

In due time. In due time. Seems a lot more fitting for thirty than it would've for twenty, that's for damn sure. I don't know if I'll still be blogging in 10 years, but I'll revisit these thoughts then.

what a week

Writing has trickled lately, huh? Cardboard haunted me for a good while before, during, and still after my simultaneous moves. I hate moving. Thankfully, next time around, it ought to be for a good long while. After that, it might pay to get movers to go from house to house whenever I get old.

Hmm. Something big to write about? My photos will be gracing the walls of our new apartment. I can't wait to get out and shoot some new stuff when my summer finally begins in stride. I'm not real sure when that will be. This picture of mine won a contest in one of the photo groups I've joined to challenge my creative eye. I've entered a few more shots for this month's contests. Post processing of photos is something new I'm trying. It fights with my purist spirit, but I'd rather take an average photo and turn it into something great than toss it and have wasted an opportunity. Shots like that one that are nearly perfect are hard to come by. I know Ansel Adams played with exposure in the darkroom when he developed his prints; digitally, this is my darkroom so to speak.

That's all. I'll try to be more exciting soon. Sorry, readers.

roller coasters

Life is a funny roller coaster. Unlike a roller coaster, the dips are less fun and more terrifying because we often can't see where the track levels out. The ride up isn't the exciting part, the opposite of life as well. That's the most excruciatingly boring part, until finally at the precipice, the car speeds up and gives you a shot of adrenaline.

I suppose an optimist would look at life's roller coaster as such, with a better outlook on the overall picture. A pessimist would view the ride more like an actual roller coaster for someone that doesn't like to ride them. On the way up, wondering when the bottom will fall out; back down again, heart racing, terrified of the outcome. The optimist will take it all in stride. Enjoy the ride up, not worried about the top. Look ahead on the way down, knowing it's going to level out eventually so you can catch your breath.

Where does this metaphor come from? Life lately has been a roller coaster ride. From the dizzying heights of my roller coaster ride, I thought life couldn't get much better. Friends at work, new friends to climb with, blissful relationship. Then the stresses piled on and on. Destaffed. Traumatic spondylithiosis. Migraines. Hunting for a new apartment.

Just like that, the cars leveled off at the bottom of the hill, took a barrel roll, and began their climb back up to normal. New job transfer accomplished, apartment settled for next year, climbing to destress, taking time to breathe and snap some photos. Give and take. It's a wonderful ride.

what i would've done

Were my life circumstances slightly altered, I may have handled the last two weeks entirely differently. Without my leaning post to keep me upright and sunny side up, I might've retreated back into my introverted cave. I might've reverted to old habits. I might've left it all behind again, packed up this time and headed to Colorado or some other point out west. Climbing and snowboarding and dirtbagging sounded pretty good. I'm sure I'd get sick of it pretty quickly. I need to feel grounded. Maybe my wanderlust is fading.

Here's to a new start and putting down roots. I hope the county'll let me stay wherever I land for longer than two years. I don't yet know why my purpose at this school was limited to two years' time. Maybe in several years, it will become more apparent. I hope I can maintain contact with some of these students. This year has been pretty spectacular, and I really feel connected to this class. They know me, and I feel like I know them. It hasn't happened for a few years, that's for sure.

I hope I find it again wherever this traveling teaching show lands next.

the hits just keep on coming

April went out with a bang. April 30 might go down as the most comically awful day I've had in a long while. If I weren't so exhausted by the end of it, I might've been laughing all night.

I walked out of my building yesterday morning. The strap broke on my climbing bag immediately. I should've just turned right around and gone back to bed. The sky had a certain forboding tone to it. It felt like Groundhog Day, minus Bill Murray and "I've Got You Babe" on Punxatawney radio.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Jobs were posted for next year, so I spent the afternoon poring over those, hoping to find a second or third grade position for next year. Hopefully, I can shorten my commute considerably and make this change a little greener!

After a good session at the gym, I punctuated the day with a ridiculous fall onto my head off a V7. I'm making progress; I just need to get it fresh.

Pulling out of the gym, I felt a whap-whap-whap coming from my front passenger tire. Sounded flat. I pulled over and found a huge chunk of steel sticking out of the tread. I hoped for the best and limped on down the road to the gas station. Sure enough, it flew out before I got there and was riding the rim in less than a block.

Flat tire, no big deal, right? I've changed many in my days. First one, new car, no sweat.

Wrong.

One, no tire iron to loosen the lugs. Two, jack rusted to the point of being useless. Three, spare tire flat. Four, when my buddy Rob pulled in to help me out, my car was too low for his jack. We improvised and got it done. It was such an ordeal, I couldn't help but laugh. What else could I do?

Oh yeah, pack for NYC and sleep...

almost poetic

I just finished reading Zen & The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. I started reading it during my month-long traveling bender. It rekindled the same itchy feet syndrome first diagnosed by Jack Kerouac and nearly cured by an ill-fated attempt to live overseas. This time, however, in Pirsig's wandering tale of a cross country motorcycle trip intertwined with a past borne of insanity and ancient Greek philosophy, my life circumstances changed considerably. Oddly, so too did the book.

During the course of my reading, she and I made that whole "getting married" thing official, I logged about 10,000 miles of air travel, got attacked by a macaw, lost my job (technically, destaffed, but let's call it what it is), and started trying to get this bum back of mine fixed. I thought it rather fitting the way the book ended. So, if I may quote the last paragraph, "'Tis a far, far better thing...."

Wait, that's not right.

Ahem. Here it is:

Trials never end, of course. Unhappiness and misfortune are bound to occur as long as people live, but there is a feeling now, that was not here before, and is not just on the surface of things, but penetrates all the way through: We've won it. It's going to get better now. You can sort of tell these things.

For all the stresses of my life past, and those to come, I know this to be true. Words truer were never written, nor at a better time for me to read them in a 35 year old classic.

going big

Last week gave me some reflection on how going big has changed since I first started writing here. When I first staked my blogspot claim, the website hadn't yet been acquired by Google, I still occasionally blogged on Myspace, and I was going to South Korea to teach English. Oddly, I think it was also after that plan had begun to fall apart. That plan was completely Go Big. Never been in a foreign country for more than a few days, and Canada really isn't too different in such a short trip. Then I wanted to live in the Far East? "You must be crazy," crossed the lips of quite a few friends and acquaintances.

Thus began the Go Big philosophy. I chose D.C. because...well, I rarely give the same answer twice. Threw a dart. Jumped ahead two years in my life plan, which isn't really a plan after all. Needed a change. Love seasons. So, I moved solo. No job, no home, few friends and family to help get settled.

Going Big before I left Gainesville meant planning a climbing trip in 10 minutes, driving 8 hours each way for a day and a half on the rocks. Buying tickets for Bonnaroo with about five minutes of thinking about it. Buying a sword for no apparent reason. Ok, that last one's pretty lame. It was more of a spontaneity spur than anything. I think I'd made it a New Years' resolution a few years back. Something about not being predictable. I think I've managed to keep it.

Taking a big risk in life is always fraught with perils. The big risks these days aren't quite the same. I do my research, then jump in with both feet. Am I still scared of the outcome of these possibly life-altering decisions? Absolutely, but I wouldn't change a thing that's happened since. Going Home's not an option.

I choose go big.

jetset update

I'm not feeling much like writing lately. Been reading some good books on the plane. Two weddings down, planning the trip to Cali, starting to think about where I'm living next year. Nothing big, just crazy busy.

Sorry.

Is this below the 140-character limit? Yes? I must say that this Twitter thing has me intrigued, but I'm rarely that concise in my thoughts. Seems to me like an external site for compulsive Facebook status updaters or AIM away message relics still lurking about on the interwebs. Tweet.

going big

Going big does always lead to going home. Going big too often leads to staying home sometimes when you'd rather be out enjoying life. This weekend was one such case of circumstances combining with fatigue to keep me in on what turned out to be a pretty spectacular weather weekend.

Too bad.

A lack of planning on our parts led to a lack of plans. Climbing would have been good; alas, the local place we chose in our shortsight turned out to be sketchy access, so we bailed on it. The weather turned out too warm to hit the slopes, so no riding either. Conversely, the temps were too cold for too much bike riding, so as you know, I was relegated to climbing in a gym with seemingly perfect, dry conditions.

I miss my Florida sunshine, but I reckon I'll get a good dose of it in a few weeks when I go back for two weddings. That'll be pretty darn close to springtime, and all I'll be hoping for up here is some warmer temps. That'll lead to bigger trips for bigger rocks and bigger sends. For now, I'll have to settle for the fleeting glimpses of sunlight I get through my classroom window and my windshield in the mornings. Lord knows I haven't been out of here early enough lately to catch those late afternoon rays!

Spring break is fast approaching, and plans are set to see some big walls. Yosemite granite is calling my name. I doubt I'll get on El Capitan or Salathe Wall, but I might try to soak up some history via Midnight Lightning. Lyn Hill makes it look so easy on video. I doubt my lanky frame can do what her nasty strong five feet two inches breezed through, but it'll be fun to try.

That's all I got. Back to the grindstone.

random thoughts edition

my brain is on ramble.

one, i think i may start using proper capitalization, rather than my current usage of proper nouns that i respect beyond simple old names. i'm not e.e. cummings, nor should i feign to be.

two, i have a new tag team blog idea. it was spawned by ridiculous scenarios that often spring from late night imagination. oh, and one of the funniest blogs i keep up with. ma, you might want to shield your eyes. i may enlist a few of the crazies in my cadre of friends. yes, that includes you, palmer.

three, i need to reassess how much information i share with acquaintances. i'm generally a pretty open person, but it's somewhat off-putting when details of my life spread to people i barely know. the result is getting pointedly personal questions about my life, my love, my plans, my hobbies. my impulse is to say, "none of your damn business," when i get them, but that wouldn't be very nice, now would it?

four, carpooling is fun. i had forgotten how much i liked it back when i was a summertime construction worker. the stupid things that justin and i used to do to and from jobsites are recreating themselves with casey. yet another example of fictional ridiculousness that would go nicely in random thought two.

we're going to stock the car with old pairs of underwear we get at goodwill. then at random stoplights when we're bored, toss a pair onto another car's windshield and make a fast getaway. what would go through the pantied driver's head? is that.......? no, couldn't be. it is!!! ewww...

five, i'll sleep when i'm dead.

six, life is good. i'm out.

hopeless to hopeful

postsecret really got to me this week. forgive me for being a romantic at heart on this post. used to be, back when i was (seemingly) blissfully single i'd get all choked up at romantic gobbledygook. engagement stories of friends. sappy, cheesy chick flicks. blockbuster hits with that love story thrown in to appeal to a broader range of moviegoers. i'd silently sit, with the knot in my throat or that half a tear welling up in my eyes, with the thought racing straight from my heart to my brain and back again, "why not me?"

more often than not, it hit me after a few pints. still amped up and not tired, but alone in my room after a long night. stories of exes hit me hardest. so-and-so's engaged. really? super! one thing i finally learned in my years of trial and failure in the dating regime was that until i was truly happy alone could i truly be happy together with anyone else. even in relationships, these feelings beleaguered me at times, taking my head and heart out of any new attempt before it even got started.

so, i set out to focus on that which enriched my happiness and avoid that which prevented it. live music. climbing. writing. reading. traveling. surrounding myself with good people and limiting negative influences. even prayer crept back into my life. all things began to line up, and i truly was a happier person. moving here didn't do much to change that, despite starting over with the stresses of searching for a job, a place to live, places to climb, fun things to do, a new cadre of friends to spend time with. at that point, happiness sought me out. i wasn't searching for happiness. i created it, and it grew within my life to the point where i currently am. no longer a hopeless romantic, i favor the hopeful side of things. where those old triggers used to drag me down, i'm more optimistic in my tone of thought. that knot still rises in my throat and the tears welling are out of happiness rather than regret.

"i can't wait until that's me."

quoted

i subscribe to a few weekly finance newsletters from various newspapers. the one i enjoy the most is written by michelle singletary of the washington post. last week, she asked for some reader responses to a dear prudence column about being underemployed with a college degree. granted, i'm not underemployed, but i do think from time to time about switching career tracks. i responded anyway. here's the context:

Working It Out
A grocery store clerk was wrestling with customer and colleague questions about why he's bagging groceries with a college degree.

The letter made me wonder if others were employed at jobs that weren't satisfying just so they could maintain an income. Here's what some of you wrote:

M. Johnson of Orinda, Calif., says that like the grocery store clerk, he was passed over for a job because he was overqualified and they were fearful he'd resign for another opportunity.

"But more alarming is why they wouldn't bring me on and then hope to create something for me where I could continue to add significant value to the enterprise far beyond my cost to them. Shortsightedness? In this market? Unfortunately," Orinda wrote.

Teacher Ben J. from Arlington, Va., said he's "content to have a job that I enjoy, even if it feels like it controls my life at times."

One Maryland reader, who asked that her name not be used, said that she can "identify completely with the grocery store clerk." She graduated from a top school and took a fellowship that paid $26,000.

"I loved my job, but I would often skip meals just to make sure I was making my bills," she wrote. "I found work at a high-end retail store in sales and actually make significantly more than before. But I still get asked all the time why I'm not using my degree or what I'm doing there. Sometimes I feel like responding, 'I enjoy eating lunch.'"

Joseph Zairo of Pa., puts it all in perspective: "I get up at 4:30 a.m. and as I am getting ready for work I think about and plan for the day. I try to make things interesting. Work is work."

enough

don't know if i'd received this email before, but it's a good one. i wish you enough in the new year.

Recently, I overheard a mother and daughter in their last moments together at the airport. They had announced the departure. Standing near the security gate, they hugged, and the mother said, 'I love you, and I wish you enough.'

The daughter replied, 'Mom, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Mom.'

They kissed, and the daughter left. The mother walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there, I could see she wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on her privacy, but she welcomed me in by asking, 'Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?'

Yes, I have,' I replied. 'Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?'

'I am old, and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead, and the reality is - her next trip back will be for my funeral,' she said.

'When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?'

She began to smile. 'That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone.' She paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, and she smiled even more. 'When we said, 'I wish you enough,' we wanted the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them.'

Then, turning toward me, she shared the following as if she were reciting it from memory.


I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright no matter how gray the day may appear.

I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.

I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.

I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.

I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.

I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.

I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.

Then, she began to cry, and walked away.

They say, it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but an entire life to forget them.

conflicting interests

something pains me each time i walk into an outdoor store. the gear head id in me is elated, excited, intrigued at all the shiny new toys and clothes that will keep me entertained whilst pursuing outdoor fun. i want to try them all on and have an unlimited gift card to purchase said gear. this half of me is in conflict.

the quieting force that seems to be stronger in me is the anti-consumerist ego that fights its every id whim. i'd just as soon keep the same old stuff and old clothes and old pickup, but in this american society, it's pretty difficult to do. i read not buying it by judith levine a while back. if you've not read it, it details the trials and tribulations of the author's challenging project of not buying anything but needs for an entire year. i thoroughly enjoyed the book and identified very strongly with her internal conflicts on doing so. i'd say in climber fashion, this is the strongest statement we make. thrift store finds, flea market used pants, army surplus wool sweaters. to top it off, it's all chalked up because wearing clean clothes to climb in seems to be a ridiculous faux pas.

of course, this is fought by our craving for new shiny carabiners and cams and ropes and packs to stow it all in. granted a good bit of our climbing gear carries our life in its function. substandard gear doesn't cut it. in the snowboarding realm, i've had to drop a few bills on new gear just to get started. it ain't top notch stuff...yet, but it gets me outdoors on the weekends when the rocks are too wet or snow-covered to climb on them. this weaker id loses far more often. were it stronger, i'd have a kayak, a new mountain bike, and and and.

the meaning of life

in the absence of meaningless new year's resolutions, i thought i'd share some of my favorite bits of wisdom from Esquire's Meaning of Life issue. enjoy!

"Nobody likes to fail. I want to succeed in everything I do, which isn't much. But the things that I'm really passionate about, if I fail at those, if I'm not successful, what do I have?"--Eminem

"Streets are straight, houses are square, and our bodies are round. We don't belong there. We belong outside, doing stuff."--Warren Miller

"If you believe that every word in the Bible is the word of God, literally, you've got a problem. When you go through Genesis and you count back and the world began four thousand years ago, I am not convinced. It is of course metaphorical and should be taken as such. Is it nonetheless useful? Oh, absolutely."--Brent Scowcroft

"It's much harder to make something simple than complicated."--Phil Bredesen

"...But you've got to live to get old. You can't get old without living."--Jim Brown

"Every man that's good, his mama stayed on his behind."--Evander Holyfield

"Success needs no explanation. Failure does not have one that matters."--Rev. Jesse Jackson

"Every kid should learn how to swim and how to shoot a .22."--Steve Zahn

the last two

the last two nights have been really interesting. i'll start with recent, and work my way back. last night, i met up with two friends from high school. ok, that's not entirely accurate. i was friends with them in high school. mike and mark were in scouts with me. mark's my age; mike's a few years older. mark and i lost touch shortly after high school; mike wound up dragging me kicking and screaming into greek like. we've kept in touch pretty well over the years; i even got to stand for him when he married his wife. suffice it to say that it's hard maintaining a conversation when you can't all three really participate, more than listening to the stories. that's one of the funny things about meeting up with old friends over the holidays. you always find yourself in a situation where someone is the odd one out. someone is enjoying himself, but simultaneously feeling left out of the "old times" stories when they start talking about people you don't know or don't remember real well.

case in point, the night before we had a mini high school reunion of sorts. yeah, our reunion passed already. a year and a half ago, but that's beside the point. some of the people at the get together had stayed in touch far better than others. for example, living together and going to the same college. that helps. the stories are still funny, you still feel welcome, but left out just the same. it's weird. i guess that's one of the things about not being in a small town for one, but still trying to keep up as if that's the case. were it not for the interwebs connecting and reconnecting people we've lost touch with, i don't know if i'd ever run into any of these people again. is that a good thing, or a bad thing? i'm not sure. what say you?

all my exes live in texas

[disclaimer: this stream of thoughts was not brought on by any of my exes. i swear.]

a few weeks ago, i got a text from a friend. "[insert ex's names] just proposed to [ex's new squeeze]. why do i care?" i tried to make her feel better, but i'm not so sure if i did. the short conversation came back to life in my brain when i happened to run into [ex's new squeeze] at christmas mass. she's someone that i went to middle school, high school, and college with, but it's been more than a few years since we'd spoken.

so the rambling in my brain began anew. why do we care so much about our exes' love lives? is it that sense of lost hope, even though the feelings for that person have long since faded? i went through my brain last night as i struggled to fall asleep.

i was talking to my favorite brunette about this last night, relaying the story of [friend with the ex]. we came up with a few theories. first and foremost, we are genuinely happy that they've found love anew, albeit with a twinge of regret because of our extinguished hope for it to be us. however, our happiness for that ex isn't free. it comes with conditions. that regret grows into other emotions when we know the new flame, either because it's someone he/she knew while dating us or a mutual friend of ours. another condition is when it's the next one. becoming the last one sometimes hurts, but it balances out when we stop looking into the past.

by staying in our present and looking towards the future, our past can no longer haunt us inexplicably. being happy with ourselves makes hearing about exes' love successes heavy on the good, light on the bad. that wave of romantic nostalgia is fleeting. there's a reason it didn't work out, and besides, you've gotta love the one you're with. if you're any good at this dating game, you get closer and closer to your target with each missed shot. consider each new flame as an upgrade of the snuffed ones.

as leda puts it, "your ex already had a shot. it didn't work out. no sense in worrying about it."