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26 April 2004 — Memory Meme (4)

Thanks to Lynn for two great entries in my absence.

Kris and I have returned from our (wonderful) annual Bend weekend. I'll post more about that tomorrow. For now, here's another meme to kill some time. This one is gratuitous and self-centered, but I think it's fun.

(This is via the ever-entertaining Nicole.)

Post a memory of me in the comments. It can be anything you want. Then, of course, post this to your journal and see what people remember of you.

As an example, here are my strongest memories of Nicole (which I've already posted to her site):

I remember listening to the Purple Rain soundtrack in your bedroom in North Canby. I remember going to some party at a church on a New Years Eve. I remember sharing angst-ridden poetry with you. I remember you walking the six miles from your house to mine, in the cold, in the dark. I remember my dad being infatuated with you. I remember thinking you were strong, and tough, more confident than the other girls. I remember you visiting the Willamette campus and me not taking the time to see you. I remember you visiting our house last spring, and me being too doped up (post-surgery) to be a good host.

When you think of me, what do you remember? (And, to make this more interactive, if you request it, I'll post my memories of you.)

This entry's really only appropriate for people who know me in Real Life, of course. For the rest of you: What events make up our memories of another person? Good memories? Bad memories? A mixture of each?

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — Get Rich Slowly!   Over the past few months, I've read over a dozen books on personal finance. Recurring themes have become evident. Today I'll share the collected wisdom of the financial wizards: the keys to wealth, prosperity, and happiness.

2003 — Leaving   This is how Kris prepares for a trip.

2002 — Mending the Frays   Some my life's frayed edges have been mended. The fence has been repaired -- though the quality of the repair can still best be described as haphazard -- and we discovered what went wrong when I replaced the garbage disposal.

2001 — Anna Begins   I've spent the last half hour bellering this song over and over. Also, more bike geekiness. Also, poetry. Also, I won't shut up.

Comments
On 26 April 2004 (05:56 PM), Dana said:

Hmmmm.

I remember you pretentiously smoking your pipe while Andrew smoked his cloves.

I remember most of first-floor York (including both of us) playing Wizardry: Bane of the Cosmic Forge.

I vividly remember Andrew and I having to actually convince you to bring more than one change of clothes for the week-long trip to Minnesota Lake Country a few years ago. Luckily, we prevailed...

I remember you smelling my books. And I remember asking you not to do that to mine, because it was kind of creepy -- you couldn't break the habit, though.

I remember you not wearing shoes in the spring, walking obliviously through the mud and gunk.

I remember your damn Geo Storm, the rear seat of which I couldn't sit up straight in.

I remember the Astronomy club outing (I only went on one), and that some constellation had a 'jokey hat'.

I remember your wedding. Well, more accurately, I remember your wedding reception at the Bistro, and talking to Jim Osmer for the first time (I'd met him once before in passing), and you thinking he and I were old friends who'd known each other for years.

I remember watching Star Trek: TNG with you, and your eventual monomaniacal obsession with it. I remember the rating surveys.

I remember driving you to the edge of overwhelming anger (repeatedly) while arguing with you on various topics. I remember clearly the first time I realized I had been talking about relativism in a way that you didn't grasp, and I had assumed you knew what I was talking about.

Most of all, though, I remember you being a reliable friend in difficult times.


On 26 April 2004 (06:35 PM), dowingba said:

I remember wondering why you called the second LOTR installment Peter Jackson's Helm's Deep, instead of the actual name of the book/movie. I had assumed it was some PC idiocy about 9/11, but then you told me it was because you thought the movie digressed too much from the book. And you said the comment system on my site sucked (it was basically the same as the LiveJournal system, at the time).

Ah, good times, good times.


On 27 April 2004 (07:11 AM), Amy Jo said:

A memory of both you and Kris:

When Paul and I lived on the outskirts of Canby and we didn't know you and Kris very well, you two dropped by on a Saturday afternoon with tomatoes that you had grown in a greenhouse near the shop (?) for our garden. Paul and I were lounging around the house in our pj's, drinking coffee, reading, listening to music. I doubt that we had showered. Something we used to do often but rarely have the luxury of doing now. I remember sensing that you and Kris felt ackward, like you were intruding. But you weren't.


On 27 April 2004 (07:15 AM), Joel said:

Most of my memories of you are of your disembodied voice, or maybe just your voice and your face, saying something of interest.
My most imposing physical memory was our bowling outing. You're one of those bowlers who, regardless of the score, look like a badass. You've got the hook, you've got the thingy where you lurch to the right and adroitly hook your right leg behind and to the left of your lurching body, and then, when the pins clatter (or sometimes even before), you turn around with the Stony Face of the Bowling Badass. Those pins meant nothing to you personally, it's just that they got between you and victory.
Oh, and then there was the time you ate the deep-fried Snickers bar at the rodeo. You were like the mad titan Chronos, devouring his children.


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