Ever
wish your inner scrapbook was more like a photo album or even that it
was less like one… maybe you can move around the photos, so the happy
ones are close and the sad ones are at the end and you don’t have to go
there very often.  It’d be neat, but sometimes you do find yourself
flipping down memories lane with the shiers in your hands.

There
are pages that I’ve got to go to quite often and some (few) that don’t
get touched since creation.  Visited recently are pages on Grandpa and
Grandma McKibben’s farm out in Mexico Missouri with the horse, and the
soy beans, and all that farm equipment and the huge silos.  Funny how
closely connected to that are blueberries and thereby grandma’s Sunday
morning breakfast blueberry pancakes and mom’s later desire to have us
in a Church instead of getting our connection to our past.  There are
tabs here around a race, a race were I managed 6:30 on my mile run at
Rock Bridge Elementary.  Next to it are some of my other sporting
events (why didn’t I get into swim team at a younger age?!?), quite a
lot of bicycling (it is serious bliss), and kenpo karate (also…
could’ve used this when I had too much free time).  Oh, how about when
I went on my "gotta weight gain to be 190 lbs or die" stretch, that was
awesome.  Close is all that could be mustered since I am a skinny
bastard, but about 3 lbs away ain’t terrible.  There are also pages
that have been worn about loved ones that have passed away, miss you
blue.  If you notice, there’s a crying thread that continues to others
that get brought up in times of missing and music, Zip among others.

I
could never really wish that I wouldn’t look at a specific page, even
some of my own greatest failures, like how I am now finding new
employement after a brief time at Columbia College, that one is really
fresh, but is a prime canidate for something I’d rather never
remember… but is going to be eccential because I really don’t
understand exactly why it didn’t work out – once I get the paperwork
from them around my actual review (which I thought I had) I might put
some quotes up here – its pretty funny.  Some old gfs go in here as
well as I’ve usually barely understood the first thing about them and
why they do what they do.  Even missed opportunities… did you know I
told a girl of no more than 16ish when I was 19 that I did NOT want to
have sex… cause a homie was there and he was the one crushing on her,
though that regret is very much bliss because of the trouble it
would’ve almost gaurenteed me to this day?  Also, there are some very
unused pages around when various vehicles that went and when they went
– that 84 Toyota Corrola that locked into 1st gear in KC when I was
exiting off of 435 onto Metcalf… sucky.  Had to get it back to my
apartment’s parking lot on just 1st gear for about 5 city blocks.  My
96 Toyota Celica GT that stopped working just last year, engine gave
out on it.

In reviewing these books, this treasure trove, my
life’s work – I want to look at it objectively and contently.  When I
look at any of the pages with desire, need, or hate… basically any of
the demons of the mind, dorky things pop out – a new page, a new
picture.  When I can add memories to the collective that are happy and
positive, then I can truely be happy with what I’ve done.

We can
be happy that they haven’t really developed a mass marketed version of
the device on "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" that miss-mashed
Jim Carey’s memories.

Even
if for the price of a vacation you could never know how sad you
we(a-re), the end result is a hollow completion.  Without the ability
or the desire to grow from the good and the bad that is a natural part
of life, you suffer the error of going through those things over and
over again.

Let it be known that as I was writing
this, out of the 20,563 songs on my server (roughly 4559 artists and
3039 albums, thats 67 days + 8:20:30 of music non-stop on 1 of my
servers) John Millard’s Electroclash Experiment came on and wow do I
love this whole set.  For those that don’t know, John Millard’s other
monkier was Zip, much love buddy.

The moral, if
there is one for this rambling disortation of existance, is that you
shouldn’t hesitate to look back on a memory to see if you have a new
perspective on it.  Lessons are generally true and honest.  If the
perspective hasn’t changed, looking at the image more isn’t going to
change things.

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