Nostalgia
◊ The American Heritage Dictionary says it's "a bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past."
Country singers call it "heartache."
I call it "the emotional equivalent of hunting butterflies with a shotgun," "a major suckfest," or sometimes "someone please kick me in the head until I stop moving."
The worst part about nostalgia is that the moodiness and lip-trembling associated with being on the verge of tears and the sudden staring into space with a faraway look strongly resemble teen angst. If I revert fully and start wearing many layers of flannel and carting a Discman and CD wallet with me everywhere and begin hanging posters on my walls of Kurt Cobain looking moody, someone may have to schedule an intervention.
Man, I wish someone had arranged some kind of intervention for me when I was 15. "Arlette, we know this is a very intense time for you, but seriously? If you keep this up you'll end up spending all day lying in bed, writing in a journal and crying along to Radiohead CDs, and that is not exactly a savvy career move.
"Now here are some T-shirts that actually fit and some jeans with no holes in them and some shoes that don't go 'clomp' like combat boots do. Why don't you go put them on and then walk into that bright shiny thing just on the other side of the door? Around here, we call that 'outside.' And no, that's not just the name of the Bowie album you got for your 15th birthday. It's a big world full of exciting people and new experiences, and -- hey! Where are you going? Don't hide under that desk! You have to outgrow all this crap so ten years down the line you can make fun of the new breed of Nirvana fans who weren't even into their double digits when Cobain croaked!"
Yeah, that would've been great. Though I still have the boots. And the Radiohead CDs. And the Bowie fixation. And this is a journal, sort of.
But at least I stopped listening to Pearl Jam.