This post is old, so what you see here may not reflect my current opinion and mindset, certain information may be outdated, and links may be broken.
I met up with Eugene last night…er several hours ago, someone who I’ve known since third grade. We also were in the same fifth grade class. All we did was eat dinner and go to the cafe I always go to. It’s amazing how much memories came to both of us in such a short period of time. He was amazed how I remembered most of these stuff. It’s weird what a brain is capable of at times.
Meeting up with him brought back some good, although some embarrassing, memories. I realise now that maybe my fifth grade year wasn’t so bad. Although that doesn’t justify my sixth grade year. But seriously, how could I remember a lot of the more mundane ones? He made me remember a lot of stuff too. Of course we both had to think through the piles we’ve accumulated to remember certain names, faces, and whatnot.
It was great seeing him though. He left in eighth grade, and we hadn’t really kept in touch. He’s a sweetie though. It’s funny how we first met in third grade. I guess in my case, giving away candies brings me friends? That’s how we first talk. Simply, all I did was get a prize for getting a 100% on my spelling test. I saw that he wanted it or, maybe I just didn’t want it, and I gave it to him. I still remember him being surprised by the gesture.
I’ve lost contact with him over the years, but thanks to Xanga, which is ironic since I despise that journal place so much, I found him again. I am glad I found him though. It’s always great reminiscing the old days with someone who understands what the fuck I talk about. It’s not fun having practically a one-sided conversation to someone who didn’t go to my high school or what not because they will not be able to know who I’m talking about and etc. The history, no matter how big or small, is what someone like Eugene and I have.
Maybe I just can’t get out of the past? Who knows. I just feel closer, feel like I’m coming home when I talk about the past with someone who was there, or knows the factors within the history. It’s weird; we are two different people, yet we connect. All because of what we share which happens to be the past.
And why am I being philosophical at 12:30 am? Beats the hell out of me.
BTW: Capriccio is updated.