Sometimes the occasion for giving flowers is just because — just because you love someone, just because you were thinking of them or just because you’re there.
The documentary reminds us that this show was not just about comedy. It was about relationships, the memories and the beautifully chaotic love that makes a family feel real.
I don’t think of the uncertainty and powerlessness that can sometimes accompany childhood — the inverse of its innocence and lack of responsibility.
Nostalgia paints our memories into cinematic narratives. It colors them gold and pink like a late summer sunset. Nostalgia gives us something to fantasize about — to take us out of the monotony of the present and into the excitement of the past.
I felt it as soon as I stepped foot on campus again. The wave of nostalgia hit me like a truck, as did the knowledge I was entering my last year at Boston University.
I’ve felt this impending doom before, as a senior in high school who was also filled with uncertainty. This time though, we’re being pushed out into the actual “real world,”. The safety net of school life will soon be replaced by bills, jobs and the inevitable question: “What’s next?”
At this moment, all I can feel is uneasiness and nostalgia. I always feel this way as summer disappears behind me, vanishing not necessarily with the weather but as a concept only present so long as you acknowledge it.
I won my Peeps coloring book in an Easter egg hunt organized by my suitemate, and surely enough, everything changed. I was no longer growing annoyed at attempting to fill in every detailed pattern of a mandala. The lines of pink across the pages bled and overlapped together, creating a less-than-perfect composition of a rabbit. I would routinely cap my marker, place it back in the box and flip to the next page of my Dollar Tree Peeps coloring book. Despite the imperfections and out-of-line work, I was always satisfied, something eight-year-old me would’ve been proud of.
Once I scroll deep enough through my camera roll to hit the time period of my past relationship, I begin to feel anxious, expecting to be reminded of everything, regardless of whether there are pictures of us right away. Before I even reach this time, I can already feel a pit forming in my stomach.
If you grew up with a computer at home, you’ve likely played a game or two online. Many people may share the same memory of rushing to your computer after a long day of school and going on a number of sites like Club Penguin or Movie Star Planet. But today, most of those sites are dormant.
The pieces of Dunkin’ that out-of-towners might think help it maintain its popularity are often misinformed hypotheses. It is not the intense sugar-rush that their syrups provide, nor is it the way they keep us on our toes as we gamble whether the first sip will be sweet, sweet paradise or like licking the butt of a cigarette. What is the home that your local Dunkin’ makes for you?
POV: It’s 2009 and your first grade class is having a Halloween party.
Your teacher is playing the “Monster Mash” and everyone is dressed up in their costumes, drinking apple cider and eating doughnuts. There are no worries in the back of your mind about work you have to do, only excitement about going trick-or-treating later.
Working in a candy store, seeing Harriet the not-so-little kid coming in every day, gave me
greater hope for my looming adulthood. It’s not an impending doom the way people make it out to be, telling me to cherish my youth and not wish it all away. But I know better than they do that it’s entirely in my control.
Everybody has a comfort show, the show you always go back to — even though you’ve watched it more times than you could count. It can be a means for relaxation or happiness, a catalyst to a flow of childhood memories or merely a way to maintain stability in a busy lifestyle.
