Right now, I am sitting on the edge of my bed staring at my Powerline T-shirt slipping out of a Hot Topic bag. Even though I pride myself over this purchase, as The Goofy Movie is one of the most underrated Disney movies of all time, I cannot help but to feel a bit conflicted. Recently I have noticed a rise in all things 90’s. The 90’s are back but unfortunately they are not to stay. We have always been a nation that has revolved around nostalgia (we did spend 8 years wondering whatever happened to the milkman, the paperboy and evening tv) but now, perhaps more than ever, we are clutching onto something we cannot hold: time.
After watching Get Out, my head was spinning because of all the potential posts that I could write. However, this moment was short-lived. When the credits appeared on screen and the lights began to brighten, I took a quick glance of the theater and realized that my boyfriend and I mirrored the dynamics of Rose and Chris. By dynamics, I do not mean that I am dating him because I want to lure him to my home so that my sadistic and racist family could exploit him – no, I simply mean that he is black and I am white. This should not qualify as a dynamic, but in reality this is an unfortunate “factor”of our relationship. There are moments when I do not think of this, but then there are moments when I am hyper aware.
He wanted to be an architect but after college he began to work in construction, where the jobs were sporadic but his wife loved it. She loved watching how seemingly insignificant objects could transform into massive structures. To him, she was architecturally beautiful. Upon having the blueprints of her revealed to him, he concluded that she could never be replicated. He loved every inch of her, even her imperfections, if he had the chance he would have declared her as a landmark so that she would remain unchanged.
Greek-orthodox is one of the most refined and strictest religions out there, and my grandma is the most religious person I know; making it only natural for me to cause a disruption in her most sacred haven: church. My mother would bring my siblings and I a few minutes before Communion would start because she knew our limited capacity to behave ourselves there. I was feeling under the weather, but having no choice, I found myself at church that Sunday morning.
The magical moment of a first kiss is a memory that will most likely last longer than the relationship it entailed. A combination of butterflies floating in your stomach along with the sparks of your lips meeting; at least that is what you believe you feel until you kiss another. I was in the park with my soon to be boyfriend, soon to be ex-boyfriend, sitting on the bleachers chatting and watching two dogs roam through the green fields. We decided that we wanted to have a romantic walk through the bicycle trail so I began to step down the bleachers, until he stopped me and I was facing him directly one bleacher below him. The moment I so desperately dreaded finally arrived and our lips touched.
When we were little, we would grab a pencil, marker, or crayon and draw on whatever we wanted to. We would draw our mommies, daddies, and grandparents, yet no matter what we drew, or what it was supposed to be, it always ended up being a bunch of squiggly lines. However, when we would show it to our mom, her face would make an “O” and her eyes would become really big as she would say, “Wow! This is great sweetie, this really looks like…” This would cause us to beam and interrupt, “It’s you mommy!” The response would follow something along the lines of, “I knew that, you just didn’t give me a chance to say it.” She would then take it and put it with the pile of drawings that were all drawn by you, and looked the same, with the exception of different colors, on what was once her refrigerator. Scribble scrabble occurs when we have a picture in our minds but are not yet able to truly capture it into a physicality.
What goes up, must come down, that is what gravity teaches us. If I were to jump in the air, I have the reassurance that my jump will conclude with me returning to the ground rather than remaining indefinitely in the air. Yet even though gravity teaches us this mantra, we find ourselves bewildered when we reach a low point in our lives. Do we, as human beings, find ourselves immune to the laws of the universe? Gravity is a force that applies to us in every way imaginable, so why not apply its philosophy to our emotional state? If we view happiness as an “up” and sadness as a “down,” then it all makes sense.