I'm starting to think of my life as a series of photographs. Each moment is unique, finite, a beautiful little construct captured by a beat-up Diana and gone again. I keep the snapshots in a darkroom in the back of my brain, saving them for rainy days when I need to remember what I'm doing here.
There's a photograph of me driving down the 5 at 80 miles per hour on the sun-soaked morning after Christmas, windows down, Fossil sunglasses on, listening to Ride by Lana Del Rey and singing at the top of my lungs. There's one of me in a blazer, red lipstick and high heeled boots, ordering a Nutella cupcake and walking along the farmers' market under palm trees on swanky Birch St. in Brea. There's one where I'm curled up in a recliner with a cat on my lap, eating carrot cake and hot chocolate for breakfast in a quiet house flooded with morning sunshine, writing nearly perfect poetry for two hours. There's one of me drinking a cold Dr. Pepper and watching a Quentin Tarantino movie, bedroom walls strung with Christmas lights, falling asleep in the arms of the boy I love.
Sometimes there's not much you can hold on to. Sometimes everything falls apart and nothing seems tangible. Stock up now. When you feel those moments of absolute joy, brought on by a gorgeous orange sunset or an ocean wind or a full gas tank or a kiss on the cheek, take a picture. Write it down. Soak up every detail, breathe it in. It won't last forever. But when rougher seas come, you can always retreat and return to your photographs.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd.
- Alexander Pope
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