Daily Nostalgia

For Titansz

(I wrote this on 12-2-11, and that fact should stand for this story’s significance on its own, but I digress. Alternate title is “On Hearing the Destruction of Happiness and Joy,” for I posted it on Facebook the day I heard my beloved high school had been reduced to nothing. Now, in my old age, I have only slight twinges of flashbacks and mournful longings for simpler days. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not old yet–I just feel like I am XD. This story is also one of the first PTS, or Poetic Thought Sequences.

This is also somewhat of an ode for older buildings, for I love them all: the unwanted, the beautiful, the crumbling, the abandoned. Let them shine)


“A Lighthouse, Of Sorts”


          [12-2-11~My excursion to CLA and back for the first time in years]

I return to my days of happiness and searching as my car zooms down the forgotten road that lies so near civilization. I reach the little park nearby, and I stop the car, turn it off, and sit in silence to ponder. I chose the perfect spot so that I could behold the nostalgic building from the best angle without turning my head an inch to the right nor to the left. There it is. The manifestation of my three arduous yet jovial years of high school; all but a fragment of a memory untouched by time. I had to just tarry here awhile and gaze upon its splendor. After moments of quiet pondering, I jerk the key from my car and escape to the outdoors. I walk slowly to the playground and swing on the swing facing the school in the nearby (yet so far) distance. I ponder some more, as I am accustomed to doing. My heart spoke to me. I prayed a little prayer that such nostalgic places—such beautiful places that seem so untouched by time and so otherworldly—would never be just a memory. That they would appear to our eyes as well as to our hearts. That they’d be a standing memory. Also that such simplistic beauty would someday touch the hearts and minds of those who are not dreamers; for those things of this world are fading. They have become but a distant memory to sentimental fools like myself. It’s sad. I open my eyes to the view again. My poetic dreamer side always seems to make the simplest things appear more profound than I would have thought them to be five or six years ago; which, incidentally, would have been around the time I started high school. I’ve grown so much since then. I don’t swing but for a moment or two before my intuition guides my eyes to my car again. My mom’s here. I jump from the swing and run to my mom’s car. I hand her her books for her teaching job (she forgot to bring them, so I had to deliver them to her). She is glad I came. Naturally, she asks, “did it bring back memories?”

Without any hesitation, I respond “yes.”


          Driving down the everbusy route 59 through the big cities, my eye happens to catch something new (one thing I enjoy about being a dreamer is that whether I’ve driven down the same road 90 times, I always seem to find something new which piques my intrigue). It continues on the theme of earlier. I pass miles upon miles of strip malls and buildings (which provide the foundation for what I’ve dubbed “mall towns,” or towns with nothing but wall-to-wall stores) that seem so out-of-place for me; it has been so long since I’ve driven down this road, but more importantly, it is probably the first time I’ve driven down this road by myself in my car. Not only did I receive the feeling I’ve grown, but I just felt very strange. I reach a corner. A corner I’ve seen probably a thousand times. But this time, it’s different. There stands that house I at the same time knew was always there, but I also feel it randomly popped up out of the ground. It, too, is untouched by time. Surrounded by more stores on three sides like a peninsula with me in the middle. There it stands. I know it sounds silly, but if that house were to someday go up for sale, I would buy it just so I could leave it be. These old buildings are like living history; like beacons of light. Light that has been smothered by countless metal light factories. Light that has lived to see today but has been outcasted. Light that has yet to speak, but is invisible to those who aren’t like me. I understand how they feel. Maybe that’s why I’ll always have a soft spot for them. One could say they’re the lost light of our world. 



(Sigh. I haven’t improved at all these past years, have I?

Pfff Look at the repeated words and the giant paragraphs and the tense shift and the stupid attempt at melodrama! Haahahahaahaaaaaaaa….sigh…[cries silently] But why does it still make me cry?

I will have to rewrite this one day…and add it into a SCI-FI BOOK!! MWAHAHAHAAAAAAA

Ahem. Just kidding…maybe…)

(Y’know…this “Daily Nostalgia” thing isn’t such a bad idea…I can post old things and make fun of myself…yah. Sounds great. Though, it won’t be daily XD Even though I’m all about daily reminisce…sigh)


One Response to “Daily Nostalgia”

  1. titansz

    CLA was the best place to me. If I had gone to any other High School…. I don’t know if I could. As for posting things written a long time ago, you are braver then I am. I don’t know if I would ever post the stories I first wrote. I wrote two when I was in Jr. High School. … I think even you would make fun of my so called “”stories””, they are THAT bad!!!.. don’t get me started on crying……

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