Parking Lots

I had a revelation today.  Just now actually.

I have spent a lot of time in parking lots. Normally, these automobile oceans act as a blip on the radar of everyday life. If your life were a movie, the parking lot would be one of those transition things. Parking lots aren't important enough to merit their own scene, so all they could really handle is a "fade in" or "fade out' effect.

Wrong.

I realized today that the most important thing about life are our parking lots. It probably sounds slightly stoopider than a lame cover band of sublime, but its the truth. Our parking lots not only define us---they healthily consume us. A dementor's kiss would not take away our heart, mind, body, or even soul. It would away our parking lot.

What is a parking lot, you may ask?

A parking lot is much much much ever so muchly more than a great plain of pavement, brightly colored lines, and a random assortment of litter.

Like I said, parking lots are transitions. They are the small nuances in life that you don't even notice unless you take a second look at everything. Parking lots are only discovered in the moments where you sit out on your porch at 12 39 in the morning when everyone else is sleeping. You have just watched an inspiring movie that got you in one of those "thinking" modes, so you are reflecting.

Little by little, it all comes back to you.

When you think of something, someone, someplace, the things you are "supposed" to remember-birthdays, your first kiss,your high school graduation-- often are not the most important. Sometimes, the things worth remembering are the things you don't even notice are there. In the words of cliche proverbs, unrefined ignorance is bliss.

That is actually bullshit. When you realize something is gone, it pains you. Channel that pain into positive nuances. They make you smile. Its the little things that are important in life. Yea, maybe you'll remember every single detail of the first date you had with your girlfriend who you are currently happily in love with. But in the grand scheme of things, that isn't that important. What is important is the way she absentmindedly brushes those innocent strands of hair out of her eyes on a windy day. The kind of things that you don't pick up on unless you really know someone.


Instead of remembering what you did for your birthday, remember your friends reaction after his favorite song came on in the car on the way to the party. Instead of remembering your first kiss, remember the park bench that was lucky enough to play host to a pair of lustful lovebirds. Instead of remembering high school graduation, remember how unbearably hot it was that day, or how you probably looked like an idiot because your hair was still wet from taking a shower right before you left because prom was the night before and you just woke up.

By simply remembering moments, you are actually not remembering anything. By remembering the props of the moment, you create a tangible scene. A tangible memory.

Tangible=Feeling. Feeling=

I've never been good at math, so i'll just let you solve that one.

I grew up in a parking lot. In high school, many a night was spent in a random parking spaces outside a now hipstered out starbucks. music would be bumping, the five people in the car would switch in and out between joking around, flirting, complaining about how theres nothing to do in this town, and talking about how college would be so much better because we could actually do stuff more exciting that sitting in a car listening to Chumbawamba.

I've told people in college about our parking lot ventures. Truth be told, its very difficult telling people you hung out in parking lots for fun. Just writing right now sounds like the most uncool thing since Shia LeBouf's goatee.

I really don't care. You could take the man away from the parking lot, but you could never take away the parking lot from the man.

As I went on to bigger and better things in the big old gtown, I kind of forgot about the parking lots of my life. No, I didn't completely lose myself and start tripping on heroine. I just moved on, is all. It was a clean breakup, and I didn't look back.

Until now. Its all flooding back to me.

The memories I have from the parking lots Smithtown are countless. I choose not to remember each as a distinct event. Instead, I view them as all interconnected, arched together by two parallel bright yellow lines.

My life, who I have been, what I have done, who I have become, and who I will become, was more or less inspired by a bunch of asphalt outside the pavement of American Burger.

To you, that may sound like a shitty life. But as far as i'm concerned, i'm living the dream.

I challenge you to find your parking lot. And fast. Because before you know it, you'll have to start honking for a space.


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