So I got to thinking. And I got to thinking about significant moments/conversations in my life. And I realized that several of these significant moments have a similar location: Parking Lots. At first this realization struck me as odd, but after thinking about it more, it made sense. With all of the awkward and unusual situations I've put myself in over the past five years, it doesn't surprise me so much as happened in parking lots.
Parking lots are where you first are when you arrive somewhere. Sometimes, the first place you connect with people before an event, such as work or dinner or church. And since they are the first location of an event, that means they're the last also. Generally where you say goodbye. I cannot even count on both hands how many tearful goodbyes I've said in parking lots. Parking lots stretching from the East Coast to the West. I've had countless, and strangely enough, I can still remember most of them, even if it is vaguely.


Off the top of my head:
California: I'm never ever going to see you again goodbye. And we haven't.
TC Roberson: Changing of clothes, more than once, for countless numbers of chorus events.
Iannucci's: First kisses.
Target: Awkward goodbyes involving scissors that I still carry in my car today.
Old Navy: Good mornings mostly, on the bench. Lots of I'm sorry's, too.
Bryant's Driveway: My parents couldn't see us.
Jefferson: Backseats..but not how you'd imagine. Mostly sorry's and silence.
Sweeten Creek Road: Accidental conversations.
Barley Driveway: I have a crush on you. I like you too, but you have a boyfriend.
Overlooks: Stars, mountains, friendly conversations.
Dupont State Park: Non-working car. Stranded in the middle of the woods.
Various Driveways on Pinehurst Circle: Good stories and awkward teenagers.
ABTech: Again with the backseats.
Grove Arcade Parking Deck: Ending of one 4th of July I'll never forget. Soaking wet. In front of an elevator.
Arden First Baptist: High School Musical and new found independence. Pies in the face. Something about rubber gloves.
Amos': Conversations with other fans.
Panera Bread: Let's just say I wasn't at the gym.

I'll elaborate more on each when I'm older.

Forever Ago.

It's almost November. Which means it's almost December. Which means it's almost an entirely new year. That's strange to think about because this year feels like it hasn't even started yet. January feels like it just happened, but at the same time it feels like it happened ages ago. February is fuzzy in my memory. March, I can hardly even remember...and so on and so forth.
It isn't that these months of this year haven't been swell, just lacking a bit of luster.
I can distinctly remember moments and times and situations. Ones that involve minor car accidents, Barack, breakups, get back togethers, Hanson, Jamal, buses, folding chairs, rebounds, dumpsters, and cars.

The first time I ever heard Bright Eyes was my freshman year of high school when Lindsay burnt me a CD with a couple of songs on it. It was then I began my love/hate relationship with Conor Oberst. For years and years Conor's shitty vocals and not so excellent guitar skills soothed my distressed soul. He became somewhat of my God during some of the mosto trying times in my life when he shouldn't have been. I don't regret it though. It's nice to have someone singing things I can relate to.
I felt I could die happy after the first time I saw Bright Eyes my junior year. It was incredible. It began my love affair with shows and the outterbody experience that comes along with them. I don't know if I have even been more emotional at a show. The next day my voice was gone from singing so hard and inhaling all of that illegal smoke in the Thomas Wolfe.
The second time I saw Bright Eyes was less exciting. Still an awesome show, but travelling for shows is something I am not a fan of. Maybe it's just the crowd I was with that makes that show less enjoyable when recalling it.
"Happy Birthday to Me" is the first song I really related to my life. That summer I fell in love, I think, and for the entire year after that song brough solice to me.
I can successfully relate a song by Conor to major events in my life.
I don't know if I should brag on that or not.

It's strange how emotionally attached one can get to something. Whether it be an object, person, place, whatever, something can get under your skin. Or maybe less under your skin and more into your heart and your head. Lots of things easily become significant to me. I have a terrible memory, but I can usually remember most of my "firsts". First songs, first kisses, first smoke. Things like that. Distinct moments of my life can be defined in firsts, but no matter how many times I've repeated the act, the first is always the more prominent in my mind. I suppose that's why it's called a "first".

The first time I heard the song was a few weeks after we'd broken up. It was Spring Break except it wasn't very Springy and it wasn't much of a Break since I worked most of the week. I think it was the Monday night. So we wanted to get together but neither of us wanted to hang at the other person's house to avoid the awkwardness of parents and siblings and such. So he picked me up and we still weren't sure of what we were going to do. We drove and drove and drove. He said he wanted me to listen to this song and so I did. It had been the first time I really cried in a few weeks. We cried together and drove. We drove all around town and around all the backroads that neither one of us knew how to navigate. I think we listened to the song the entire time. So we decided to get some smokes and we went out to a graveyard where a friend of mine is burried. And we just laid there smoking some smokes. Not really talking. Just laying in the grass recalling the lyrics and the past year and a half in our minds. I don't think he liked the smokes but I did because it helped me to relax and not think for five minutes. So I've listened to the song every day for the past five months.
On rare occassions it feels like the first time.