As I sit here and write this, staring with a certain sense of gloom into the bottom of my now-empty mug of Fruit Loops and warm milk on the wrong side of 12am I hold in my hands a small ticket stub.
It’s no ordinary ticket stub. It didn’t originate from the movies, the opera, a live sporting game, or any other place that would normally distribute tickets in return for admission into their respective venues/events.
It’s a ticket stub from Youth Alive 2009, but whether that’s relevant to this message is debatable. As I look upon this half-torn ticket stub I think about the events that it reflected – the incredible stench of the mosh pit, the “if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen” comment I made when some girls left the mosh pit, the energy that was conveyed through light and sound.
It’s almost saddening that the only physical reminder of what was an exceptional event is a torn-in-half ticket stub. There might be a poster here or there, some facebook posts, even a photo or two, but apart from that, the only tangible reminder that that event actually happened is this ticket stub.
Sometimes I wish that I had a Pensieve like Dumbledore in the Harry Potter movies, just so I can store my thoughts and memories for later. I know that one of these days I’ll grow old and that some of these memories will start to fade, and then what? I’ll become old and only somewhat-relevant like one of my Uni lecturers? I don’t want to be one of those people that start reminiscing out loud whenever I get the chance – of course it’ll mean that I have lots of experience, but experience means nothing if you can’t apply it in any relevant form.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that unlike what certain films would suggest, diamonds aren’t forever, and neither are memories. Tangible things – the things we can touch, see, smell, and taste – are the most pertinent reminders of people we once were, and I’d hate for that to all go to waste.