A Laptopless Existence…and a metaphor!

Maybe I’m spoiled, but not having a laptop is incredibly annoying.

Especially since I got so used to blogging every day.  So many times over the past few days I wanted to come update, tell a story of a moment of my childhood I remembered, share the details of our 14 hour drinking marathon, describe the lunar eclipse.

Alas.

The only time I can update is while I’m at work and quite frankly I’ve been busy lately.  I’ll be able to update when I go back to Boston tomorrow also, but I’ll be doing fun family-time-things so I doubt that will be too often.

Anyway, I found something on my computer at work that I wrote before The Incident, so I’ll be posting that in parts eventually. Probably not until next week because this week is supposed to be filled with Christmas cheer.

To make this post worth reading, I’ll add a little revelation I had.  I’ll use metaphor, just because I can.

When I was younger, I used to LOVE Coffee Coolattas from Dunkin Donuts.  I would usually get French Vanilla Coffee Coolattas – that is, when I was allowed to have them.  After the first time I convinced my parents to let me try one, within five minutes they realized that this was not just a milkshake of some sort, but that it actually contained caffeine. Since this was years before my caffeine addiction began, and I was full of energy in my natural state, these coolattas made me akin to a miniature crack head.  Eventually it somehow became a tradition that I was allowed to have one – in the biggest size I could guilt my dad into getting me – before every dance recital or theatre performance.  I loved them and cherished them and looked forward to them.

Eventually, as I got older, I moved on to Iced Lattes, realizing the insane calorie content of my beloved cream-based frozen treat.  When I moved home for the summer after my first year of college, I got a job at the Dunkin Donuts near my house.  I would make coolattas for children and adults alike, and would remember the joy they gave me growing up.  One day, after weeks of providing others with the goodness I had deprived myself of for so long, I caved. I thought to myself, forget about calories, I miss my old friend, I’m having a coolatta.  I made myself a nice tall French Vanilla Coffee Coolatta and took a big sip.

The taste did create a flood of memories – I could practically taste my childhood.  However, after a few sips, my stomach started to hurt. I felt a little nauseous.  The heaviness of the cream I wasn’t used to was making this experience far less enjoyable than I remembered.  How did I used to drink these?? From then on my cravings for them stopped. I no longer envied the young children who’s eyes would widen as they clutched their icy prize.

I’ll always have those memories of the happiness they brought me.  But there was a reason I stopped drinking them. And now there’s no going back. It’s just not the same. It will never be as good as it was the first time around.

I realized this on Saturday. I tried to resurrect something from my past, thinking it could be as good as it was the first time around. Instead it upset my stomach and made me wonder why I ever liked it in the first place.

I’ll always have those memories of the happiness it brought me.  But there was a reason it ended.  And now there’s no going back. It’s just not the same. It will never be as good as it was the first time around.

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~ by Valerie Anne on 12/21/2010.

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