One of my favorite memories, that I often find myself reflecting back on, was when my friend and I bought sidewalk chalk and began the first of our many pranks. We felt we should share this great experience with others, but they all said they were too busy, except one. We grabbed him from his house and dragged him in on the fun. What prank would be better than drawing all over the entrance to the school with chalk? We could only imagine the looks on everyone's face as the went to enter the building.
We were only there for a few hours because we had to go to Vagina Monologue practice (another story for another time). We felt as though our master piece was incomplete and there was still chalk left. Too much chalk left. My friend and I ended up coming back, hours later, in the middle of the night to finish the deed, using her car headlights as our only form of light. Hours and many more drawings later, we fled the scene of the crime. It must have been around one in the morning when we finally arrived home and snuck back into the house.
Unfortunately we didn't get pictures of the final product because we were too paranoid about cops. Technically we were trespassing because it was after school hours and we didn't have permission to be there. I guess you could also say we were vandalizing as well, but it was only temporary vandalism. My friend says being arrested for vandalizing a sidewalk with chalk is like being arrested for polluting the grass with water. Somehow I don't think the police would understand.
We arrived to school the next day to truly appreciate others appreciating our fine art work. I had never been more happy to go to school than on that day. Despite our extreme lack of sleep, we felt as though we were the happiest kids in the world. I can't even begin to describe how I was feeling on that day. It felt almost as if a balloon had been inflated within me and I would soon float away. Nothing could bring me down.
I find myself looking back to this day often. Even though I am halfway across the world, literally, I can still remember that day perfectly. The crisp air nipping at my skin. How the wind felt as it played with my hair and rustled the papers of my journal. The feel of the distant sun warming my back. The gravel pressed into my knees from minutes upon minutes of kneeling uncomfortably simply to create the perfect masterpiece, especially when writing "The Road Not Take" by Robert Frost.
But most of all
I remember the laughter.
I remember their voices as we discussed what we should draw next and where we should put it. I can still hear them in my mind even now. Then endless fits of giggles as we mutilated each others drawings. Changed each drawing ever-so-slightly to make all the more entertaining. Not only for others, but for us. If no one else appreciated it, we at least had ourselves to appreciate the work put into it, for our thoughts of it were all that mattered. We did it for no one other than ourselves.
We were three teen-aged kids with infinite ideas and an even more infinite creativity.The sky was the limit, or the pavement in this case. The time was ours to do with what we pleased. While others were busy, working, partying, studying, creating mayhem, whatever else teenagers of our generation do, we, being two seniors and a junior, chose to create. With ideas in our heads and chalk in our hands, there were endless possibilities of what we could do.
Unfortunately our chalk was not so infinite and our time even less so. It became a race. Which would we run out of first? Time or chalk?
In the end it turned out to be time.
We could always buy for chalk, but one can't say the same for time. In the end, you always run out. No matter how great the moment how memorable it seems to be, time doesn't stop. And with time comes growth as well as degeneration. Your memories will fade to make room for others. Other moments in time you think are the best, the happiest, or the worst. We forget old memories as we make new ones and we make new memories every day. Some not as memorable as others, but still there all the same.
We try to hold on to our memories, try to preserve them in any way possible. In photo albums, journals, blogs. We may not admit it, but we're afraid of change, we're afraid of what we may leave behind. Change scares us because we don't know what lies ahead. We don't know which moments in our life are going to be those turning points that change everything. The moments we look back on years from now and say: "I didn't know it then, but that was the turning point of my life." Whether for the better or the worse. We just have accept it and move on.
I look back through these pictures and, for now, can remember every emotion I felt that day. I still remember how I felt walking into school the next day. Some excited about the chalk, others not caring at all. Friends coming up to us, asking if we did it, if we knew who did it. We would simply look at each other and laugh. No one could understand how we felt at that moment. How we would feel each time we look back. But every time I look back through these photos, I remember less.
As the days pass, and I become busier and wrapped up in what's going on around me. As I create more memories other moments in my life I look back on and think "That was one of the happiest moments in my life." This particular memory fades. I can't remember the exact expression on my teachers face when he asked us who did it and we could do nothing but laugh. In fact, I can't remember much past going through the front door. I have these pictures to remind me of this day, and someday that will be all I will have. I will remember the laughter of other days. I will remember the sun, the wind, and the crisp air from other moments in my life.
We were only there for a few hours because we had to go to Vagina Monologue practice (another story for another time). We felt as though our master piece was incomplete and there was still chalk left. Too much chalk left. My friend and I ended up coming back, hours later, in the middle of the night to finish the deed, using her car headlights as our only form of light. Hours and many more drawings later, we fled the scene of the crime. It must have been around one in the morning when we finally arrived home and snuck back into the house.
Unfortunately we didn't get pictures of the final product because we were too paranoid about cops. Technically we were trespassing because it was after school hours and we didn't have permission to be there. I guess you could also say we were vandalizing as well, but it was only temporary vandalism. My friend says being arrested for vandalizing a sidewalk with chalk is like being arrested for polluting the grass with water. Somehow I don't think the police would understand.
We arrived to school the next day to truly appreciate others appreciating our fine art work. I had never been more happy to go to school than on that day. Despite our extreme lack of sleep, we felt as though we were the happiest kids in the world. I can't even begin to describe how I was feeling on that day. It felt almost as if a balloon had been inflated within me and I would soon float away. Nothing could bring me down.
I find myself looking back to this day often. Even though I am halfway across the world, literally, I can still remember that day perfectly. The crisp air nipping at my skin. How the wind felt as it played with my hair and rustled the papers of my journal. The feel of the distant sun warming my back. The gravel pressed into my knees from minutes upon minutes of kneeling uncomfortably simply to create the perfect masterpiece, especially when writing "The Road Not Take" by Robert Frost.
But most of all
I remember the laughter.
I remember their voices as we discussed what we should draw next and where we should put it. I can still hear them in my mind even now. Then endless fits of giggles as we mutilated each others drawings. Changed each drawing ever-so-slightly to make all the more entertaining. Not only for others, but for us. If no one else appreciated it, we at least had ourselves to appreciate the work put into it, for our thoughts of it were all that mattered. We did it for no one other than ourselves.
We were three teen-aged kids with infinite ideas and an even more infinite creativity.The sky was the limit, or the pavement in this case. The time was ours to do with what we pleased. While others were busy, working, partying, studying, creating mayhem, whatever else teenagers of our generation do, we, being two seniors and a junior, chose to create. With ideas in our heads and chalk in our hands, there were endless possibilities of what we could do.
Unfortunately our chalk was not so infinite and our time even less so. It became a race. Which would we run out of first? Time or chalk?
In the end it turned out to be time.
We could always buy for chalk, but one can't say the same for time. In the end, you always run out. No matter how great the moment how memorable it seems to be, time doesn't stop. And with time comes growth as well as degeneration. Your memories will fade to make room for others. Other moments in time you think are the best, the happiest, or the worst. We forget old memories as we make new ones and we make new memories every day. Some not as memorable as others, but still there all the same.
We try to hold on to our memories, try to preserve them in any way possible. In photo albums, journals, blogs. We may not admit it, but we're afraid of change, we're afraid of what we may leave behind. Change scares us because we don't know what lies ahead. We don't know which moments in our life are going to be those turning points that change everything. The moments we look back on years from now and say: "I didn't know it then, but that was the turning point of my life." Whether for the better or the worse. We just have accept it and move on.
I look back through these pictures and, for now, can remember every emotion I felt that day. I still remember how I felt walking into school the next day. Some excited about the chalk, others not caring at all. Friends coming up to us, asking if we did it, if we knew who did it. We would simply look at each other and laugh. No one could understand how we felt at that moment. How we would feel each time we look back. But every time I look back through these photos, I remember less.
As the days pass, and I become busier and wrapped up in what's going on around me. As I create more memories other moments in my life I look back on and think "That was one of the happiest moments in my life." This particular memory fades. I can't remember the exact expression on my teachers face when he asked us who did it and we could do nothing but laugh. In fact, I can't remember much past going through the front door. I have these pictures to remind me of this day, and someday that will be all I will have. I will remember the laughter of other days. I will remember the sun, the wind, and the crisp air from other moments in my life.