Painted (XXIV)

  

This blog might get a little “out there”, but try and stick with me. 

So imagine that there’s like, an energy we all carry around with us all the time.  Just a general cloud of “us-ness”, not necessarily visible, but maybe even a little bit tangible (on a different level) and certainly powerful.  Maybe we leave traces of this us-ness on places we’ve been.  Maybe light dustings over roads we travel occasionally, maybe full-on puddles and pools of it in places we love or visit often.  I envision, for example, a strip of this me-ness along the Cherry Creek and Highline Canal paths.  Probably on paths leading to and from jobs, friend's houses, along highways once driven many times.  The more strongly I feel about a place, the depth of whatever emotion I’m feeling while I’m there, or maybe just even how frequently I visit, the more me-ness is left there.

Let’s say that maybe strange places we’ve never been to before feel strange because there’s no you-ness there already.  Or places you’ve never been to before that don’t feel strange may have a touch of someone-else-ness that feels familiar and safe. 

I even think that if I’m driving/biking/walking/running along somewhere, listening to a song, or thinking a particular thought, or just thinking about someone/something in general, that a bit of the me-ness that is left there is tinged with that emotion.  Like, when I’m biking one day, let’s say I’m listening to U2 and thinking about all the things I’ll miss about my old job and things I’m scared about my new job, a little bit of the bike path in Aurora is painted that color.  Or my first independent trip driving through Glenwood Canyon (like, forever ago, before I drove up there all the damn time), listening to ATB, admiring the snow stuck to the rocks, will always be that color first.  It’s been painted probably at least 40 other colors now, with 40 other songs and 400 other thoughts, but that canyon the first time is the strongest.

So that little yellow marker on the bike path is painted Berlin and heartache.  And the tree that a magpie is always sitting in is painted cold and sad, but the sunrise in the east is painted with love and friendship.  Boom Boom Pow is Highline Canal and flatter abs self-acknowledgement (boo-ya).  My new office is Crystal Castles, and finally feels like there’s some me-ness left around.  Not quite so foreign and weird.  Old office is totally covered in me-ness and all my sentimentality.  Bet you didn’t know that, CDPHE.  Me-ness blankets your buildings.  Try and rinse that off!  “Lindsay was here”.   Glenwood Springs and Rifle Hampton Inns, in particular room 401 in Rifle which I seemed to get more often than not for some reason, you’re officially tagged.  Rifle Wal-Mart bakery: BOOM. 

Fort Collins and CSU: don’t even try and get me out of the 12^th floor stairwell of Westfall Hall.  Or the movable shelves in the basement of the library.  Even after you flooded, I’m still there.

This energy that I’ve left in places important to me will forever feed my nostalgia.  This is why I feel so strongly sentimental about all these things (especially [?] songs).  They’ve been possessed by some me-ness, or you-ness, or someone-else-ness that I don’t want to let go of.  Strong associations. 

I’m trying to think of a closing statement, other than it felt important to write down.  I could go on forever.