pour me another glass

Four letters that are usually associated with things like alcohol & drugs. Or, the word is attached to things that people are too embarrassed to like out loud. That horrible reality TV show, the most recent No. 1 on Ryan Seacrest's Top 40, copious amounts of chocolate or the fact that you like to eat pickles with peanut butter. Hey, no judgement here...

Vice. It can be such a dirty word.

My vice? Mine doesn't require ice or a twist of lime, rolling papers, a tv remote or a radio station. Heck, mine doesn't even involve a fridge. Nope.

My vice lies in small inconspicuous objects, simple sounds, familiar smells. The sharp corner of a photograph, the feeling of a lived in fabric. These are all my vices. Combined, they culminate to one thing. Nostalgia.

I can be paralyzed by the smell of pomegranate. I feel high when I hear Don Henley sing the words "On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair. Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air". I smile at the sight of old journals from when I was eight years old. And my closet is filled with ticket stubs, wristbands, bus, plane and boat tickets.

Precious memories are tied to all of these things. What makes it my vice, is the fact that I am consumed with visiting with them quite constantly.

A small part of me nags that I should make room for the new. Freshen things up to clear my mind. But the better part of me silences that other voice and reminds me that this clutter and these valueless objects have shaped me into who I am until this very moment.

For example, my unwashed sarong from Thailand still smells like sunscreen and the sand on Chaweng Beach and reminds me of the new friendships that were made there. My grade six exercise books inform me of how much I wanted to be an Egyptologist and my infinite wonderment with things buried away from time. & my blue beaten up CD case holds mix cds made for broken and obsolete CD players. But those songs remind me of awkward doubt, fleeting crushes and innocence.

I keep these things, these worthless things because they are my vice. I cave to these sights, smells and feelings. So, coming to terms with it, might as well mix all these things in a bottle and pour myself another glass of nostalgia.

Peas & Luhv,

Brie