# I remember....



## mstar (Aug 14, 2013)

I do remember the second grade. My teacher would give long classwork assignments, and I would wish that they could be finished by just one wave of a magic wand I had envisioned! Pink, it was pink, and a dark purple/deep pink with whiter sparkles would come over the paper and solve all the answers. My idea developed. I could only use this once. I decided eventually on a long paper that we had to fill out several sentences to finish. 

What do you remember? Anything, please.


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## Cheyenne (Aug 6, 2012)

I don't like the excessive emphasizing of past events, or, indeed, of future events. How scary it is to realize that many people would give up hours upon hour of their lives because during those times they weren't amused, or were working at a job they didn't like, or were being bored at school: how very tragic! Whenever I hear somebody say, "I can't wait for this event, only three weeks left" or "I love thinking back to that period", I can't help but think it terribly sad. 

Is that wrong of me to think? Should I "treasure" it all a little more, as they say?


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## Huilunsoittaja (Apr 6, 2010)

I have many fond memories of my time at my School of Music, I ought to write them down so I never lose it, but it might be too late for somethings. Such fond memories of exciting concerts (ones I watched and ones I played in), joking and laughing with friends, etc.


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## Vaneyes (May 11, 2010)

Cheyenne said:


> I don't like the excessive emphasizing of past events, or, indeed, of future events. How scary it is to realize that many people would give up hours upon hour of their lives because during those times they weren't amused, or were working at a job they didn't like, or were being bored at school: how very tragic! Whenever I hear somebody say, "I can't wait for this event, only three weeks left" or "I love thinking back to that period", I can't help but think it terribly sad.
> 
> Is that wrong of me to think? Should I "treasure" it all a little more, as they say?


Well, for the most part it's just small idle reflection on positive things. Not too many want to relive horrific episodes.

Your philosophic approach, Cheyenne, is what many performers have to adopt, if they are to be successful. IOW staying in the moment. :tiphat:


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## Weston (Jul 11, 2008)

I remember staying awake for three and a half days using coffee and No-Doze (a caffeine pill) to finish a wood sculpture for sculpture class in college. I wasn't the only one; nearly the entire class had to resort to such drastic measures even though we had all had at least three weeks to complete our projects. Sculpture is a LOT of work! I was chipping gouging and rasping away at this huge humorless piece of cherry wood about the size of a kitchen trash can. No power tools were allowed. It seemed to go on for a couple of years. Finally I threw in the towel, put a coat of lacquer on the thing and limped back to the dorm at around 4:00 AM the day the piece was due, resigned to receive an incomplete grade. 

I was hallucinating on the way back, presumably due to sleep deprivation. The bushes turned into cloaked witches who followed me in a weird crouching gate and I heard my name called right behind me twice when no one was there. It was terrifying! And then when I flopped into the bunk I couldn't sleep! At least not right away. I was so exhausted I was scared I would stop breathing or something. Also I would jerk awake when I started drifting off as you do sometimes when you are overly tired. Eventually nature took over and I did sleep. 

At the critique that afternoon the teacher wandered into the studio and all of us looked pretty run down. "Ward?" he said, calling me by my last name as if I were in the military or something. "How many hours do you have in this piece?"

"Ummmm. 30, sir?

"B--- S----! 80 hours minimum. What's it about?" 

"Ummmm -- the inside and outside merge imperceptibly?" It looked like an upright Pringles potato chip with a smooth slightly off-center hole going through it. I made up some art-speak on the spot I thought might explain it and appease the instructor. 

"A little cliched, but not horrible. Nice work." 

I received a "B" for my efforts. 

Oh, and I became a painter.


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## Ingélou (Feb 10, 2013)

I remember when I was aged six, my mother and older siblings had gone to the library in York, while Dad was at home looking after me and my younger sister, aged two. It was early evening in May or June & my father wanted to bath my little sister & put her to bed, so he said I could stay up later than my usual bedtime of 7.30 and could play outside in our terraced street for a while.

I was so proud of this privilege, but none of my friends were playing out (the street housed a host of kids) & I felt lonely. I wandered down to the end of the street, where there was a public footpath leading to the river, and saw a lady walking past. I started talking to her, telling her I was allowed to stay up late, and she made polite replies but kept walking. I tagged along. Eventually we came into *Marygate*, one of York's medieval streets that runs down to the Ouse, and the lady turned off and I was left alone. I wandered down the road & came to a stop beside a medieval tower, part of the historic city walls. I now realised that I was lost & I started to cry.

Several adults walked past 'on the other side', unwilling to open the can of worms. Finally a boy on a bike stopped & asked why I was crying.

'I'm l-l-lost!' 
'Well, where do you live?'
'Queen Anne's Road...'
'I know where that is; I'll take you home.'

So the boy (aged eleven), wheeling his bike, escorted me home, which was quite a way. As we turned into our street, I saw my elder sister & two brothers standing in the front yard. They let up a cheer, and it seemed that my boy rescuer was someone who went to school with them. I was scared when I saw the welcoming committee & even more scared when I learned that my parents were out in Dad's car, scouring the local streets for me. (My mother later said that Dad had come to tell her at the library and she had visions of my golden hair, attached to my corpse presumably :lol:, floating in the river Ouse.)

Eventually Mum & Dad got home but they weren't angry with me, as I'd expected. Instead, we had a solemn interview in which I was required to promise that I *would never do something like that ever again*. It was very affecting, but d'you know what upset me more than anything?

My Dad said that if I'd come in from the street when I was supposed to, he would have read me a bedtime story from my new shiny *Muffin the Mule Annual*.


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## deggial (Jan 20, 2013)

Cheyenne said:


> *Whenever* I hear somebody say, "I can't wait for this event, only three weeks left" or "I love thinking back to that period", I can't help but think it terribly sad.


methinks you're exaggerating a bit. Just because somebody enjoys thinking back to a period in their past does not mean they think about it all the time or don't enjoy/make the most of their present circumstances. This thread brought to mind some events from the past that always make me smile when I think about them but about which I don't think all that often (first kiss, first time snowboarding, first year of Uni, first time at the opera - I'm lucky to have had a bunch of rocking first times). Also, anticipation can be tremendous fun and a very inspiring emotion, too. When I am anticipating doing something fun it always gives me wings and even the most drab chores become less dispiriting.


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## Cheyenne (Aug 6, 2012)

deggial said:


> methinks you're exaggerating a bit. Just because somebody enjoys thinking back to a period in their past does not mean they think about it all the time or don't enjoy/make the most of their present circumstances. This thread brought to mind some events from the past that always make me smile when I think about them but about which I don't think all that often (first kiss, first time snowboarding, first year of Uni, first time at the opera - I'm lucky to have had a bunch of rocking first times). Also, anticipation can be tremendous fun and a very inspiring emotion, too. When I am anticipating doing something fun it always gives me wings and even the most drab chores become less dispiriting.


Yes, you're right: perhaps I'm denying myself some opportunities, even.


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