ingrained memories

hear it in the stairwell: Coldplay-the new live DVD

The other day I went to the eye doctor for a routine checkup. I took my glasses along because they are mangled and sit crooked on my face. I don't really have to money or desire to get new ones but because of my dog's intense desire for wire and glass, I needed to have them readjusted to fit comfortably. I showed them to my doctor and she laughed. My eye doctor and I have a fairly comedic relationship. I've been going to her for about 10 years now. I was the first of any of her patients to get black framed glasses back in '98. She thought I was the coolest and ended up buying the exact same frames. And when I used to work at the coffee shop in Tipp City she would stop in and chat while I made her ridiculously good gourmet coffees. She's pregnant now and this visit we discussed parenting woes...my dog, her baby. I reassured her that her baby would not do such extensive damage as my dog had done to my glasses. And, because she loves me so much, she hooked me up with a brand new pair of my exact glasses with the excuse of a scratch resistant warranty or something. She's great.
And strange as it may seem a very similar situation happened yesterday. I woke up early to call into work to let them know what time I would be in that morning. And it took me calling back twice to realize that they couldn't hear me. I would call, Gwen, the slightly scary black woman who works at the front desk would answer and say "hello, hello, HELLO??" all the while I am saying "Gwen, it's me, Amber." I thought it just might be something wrong with the phones at work so I called my parents house (mind you it is around 6 a.m.). Same situation: My mom answers in the most horribly groggy voice ever and just keeps saying "hello, hello, hello" and eventually hangs up despite my screaming into the phone. I'm stranded in my apartment with only the ability to prank people with my cell phone. So later that morning I take it into the verizon wireless store to have them diagnose it. As I approach the customer service department I think that I recognize the guy standing behind the counter. Yes, I do recognize him...it's Jim Florkey. He lives around the block from my parents;through my middle school years we shared a bus stop on the corner down the street with several other neighborhood kids. I knew by his facial expression that he had recognized me, too. Without acknowledging our past, I told him my phone was in bad shape and I needed it fixed. He took it and went into the back room. Ten minutes of sitting in the reception area watching The Game Show Channel later, he resurfaced. He proudly displayed a brand new phone, exactly like my old one. He explained that my mic had fallen out of place and that because of the manufacturers warranty I got a new one. He also proudly let me know that he had already taken the time to transfer my phonebook and all my settings. Using that kind gesture as some twisted sort or "in", he asked what I had been up to lately and sort of awkwardly asked if I'd like to get together. Maybe Jim didn't have to same memories of our puberty years that I did. Or maybe this scenario played to vividly in my mind: My two less-than-desirable neighbors, Jim "Porkey" Florkey, sort of an overweight and loudmouthed Ernie (sesame Street) and Brad "Beanpole" Bergman, a very obnoxious and defensively thin Bert arguing EVERY morning about who was the bigger loser. I distinctly remember one chilly fall morning when Brad "Beanpole" crossed the line and called "Porkey"'s mom Ms. Piggy. It was slow motion as Porkey charges (as fast as an overweight Ernie can) Brad and tackles him into a pine tree. The two boys wrestled around for a bit and ended up both leaving in tears with pine needles sticking into their exposed skin. I try to shake the slightly disturbing yet comedic memory from my thoughts and politely say "Thanks" to Porkey for the new and improved phone and exit quickly for fear of being tackled by the just-turned-down-Ernie. My new phone is shiny.
On a lighter note, I had Indian food last night for the first time in too long! MattLevi, a fellow Indian food lover, and I went to Ajanta. MMM, amazing. And because he offered to help, we spray painted my furniture in the creepy apartment downstairs at the expense of our blackened and fumigated lungs. I say all of this to explain to you why I'm back on a Coldplay kick after such a long sabbatical. Matt just bought the live DVD. We watched most of it and even though nearly every song reminds me of him and the relationship I've tried to hard to put in my past, I can't help but acknowledge that Coldplay is one of the most talented bands I've ever encountered! Nearly every song has some sort of emotional attachment for me and every song brings out emotion in me! Listen to them. You need to experience that I'm talking about. Check out their new DVD. Ask me for it, I'll let you borrow!
Ok, THE big day is tomorrow and tonight I will spend my last night in The Hotel. Moving day!! Check back later for new-house details! In the meantime...