Time Machine.

If it were possible to go back in time I would not want to correct a mistake. The way we overcome the struggles of our life is what makes us the person we are becoming. I would much rather visit a happy time. A bad point in my life will always be bad, attempting to fix it is a silly expectation. On the other had a high point can always be enjoyed again, if not made better.

There are so many amazing times in my life I would like to re-visit, I don’t know how I could ever pick just one. There were days spent hiking and summiting high peaks with friends. Lazy days wondering around museums. A weekend spend helping a former professor turned friend. Summers at camp when time seemed to flow differently. A birthday ruined by snow that turned into a perfect escape from reality. The first time I read my favorite book, or late nights with new friends freshman year of collage.

Not long after some of these points in my life the people who made them special disappeared. Somehow this doesn’t change the moment. Right now I am trying my best to only think of the good things, remembering past pain is not worth it at the best of times, let alone the worst. Fortunately a time machine does not exist so I do not have to make a choice as to where I would go, but that does not mean I can not revisit so many wonderful memories when I am feeling lost and alone.

The bad days may help define us, but holding onto the hopes and joys of the good days is what matters.

Tomorrow will be a little bit easier and I will become a stronger me everyday.


Old friends. 

I have always loved going to museums. They are one of my favorite places to reflect, see things from a different perspective and visit old friend. I always feel like I walk out of a museum in a better mood and a better person then I went in. I have so many wonderful memories wondering around and getting lost in painting hung halls.

magGrowing up I remember going to the Memorial Art Gallery (MAG) with my family. There are some paintings or sculptures I stand in front of and it’s like I’m a kid again listening to my mom explain something. There is a painting of a woman cutting onions, a sculpture of Abraham Lincoln, and how can I forget the mosaic upstairs. My mom would ask my brother and I what it was, and we couldn’t leave it until we came up with the name of it.

Going to such a familiar museum right now is perfect, I haven’t been to the MAG in far too long. Everything was in a slightly different place from how it used to be. It echoes the way I feel about things right now. I’m still me, more so than ever, but things feel slightly off and not where I expected them to be. Of course, as with life, in museums there are new things to explore and find comfort in.

Even with things moved around I still know what pieces I am drawn to, what ones I call friend. Wherever there is a Rodin, Monet, Degas, Rockwell, O’Keefe, Picaso and so many other favorite artists, I know I am among friends. 

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When things are hard, I think it is best to remember your roots. Take solace in the things that have always given you comfort, it is the best way to remember who you are and who you want to be.

Tomorrow will be a little bit easier and I will become a stronger me everyday.