Memories

What is it that connects one thought to another, one sensation to sensations long past. I read a poem and it reminds me of friends and family. I smell a flower and it takes me to the hills of Montana where I once knew God. I watch a sappy romantic comedy and I see the smile and the laugh and I get to wonder. Do I shuffle my feet when I am about to reveal one of my inner most secrets? Do I laugh nervously waiting for a response? Have I been so shrouded with myself that I don't know what I want? Am I afraid to even admit that?

Why do movies have scripts, and how are they real life? I would like a script, just once in a while. I could say the right thing, walk in when I am supposed to leave when it my time to go. I could cry on cue and laugh when instructed.

Memories, love is all rhetoric. People hug the same way, kiss the same way even have sex (with exceptions upon occasion) in the same fashion. When I find I am in a situation where some of my past experience is applicable, it seems less real. My love: kisses, massages, etc. used to come from passion. But I don't know if it still does. Is this a new experience or just a new person? What way, or even how do I feel about this? Uncertainty, the only certainty that's remained constant. I just want to find the right girl and make her happy. But perhaps I have already met her; maybe we just met, or maybe we have known each other for years, or maybe talked off and on a friend of a friend kind of thing. Or maybe we had dated and it didn't work then. Maybe I am meeting her now, relatively, and I don't even know it.

But, don't worry about it, right? There is plenty of time to take care of such things. You have your whole life to (think, work, do, etc.) that why don't you focus on the hear and now? Why not prioritize? Because it is a priority, or at least I feel it should be. It feels right to hold someone in my arms. I'm not saying that I want to grab every woman I see, but I want a connection, I want to change. I want to look into her eyes and see wonderful things. Am I Duke Orceino, is my Ophillia just a projection of my preoccupation with flattery and excapism. I hope not. God, I hope not.

What ties an object to a thousand sights and sounds and smells and sensations? What images bring to mind the how to's and plans for the complicated things we do each day? Is an infatuation just a serious of memories we want to repeat? and is being able to predict love just a pipe dream?