A year ago Tuesday, I lost my first love.
And Snapchat thought I was no longer sensitive to the incident. It was wrong. Not only did my wallet suffer after not being able to last more than a week without my beloved AirPods, my heart still aches for the lost soldiers. You never forget your first, they say.
The Snapchat memory from a year ago popped up in my saved images as a faithful reminder. It was a shot of the “Find My” app on my laptop pinpointing my AirPods 10 miles from their home.
I lost those babies among the popcorn stragglers and red velvet seats of my favorite movie theater. I’ll admit, much to my embarrassment, I shed a few tears for the departed. I realize now, 365 days later, I was being ridiculous but it is what it is.
This loss became the butt of jokes — both self-deprecating and from my friends. It also became the topic of my favorite Rambling from last year. To this day, I still love my faithful AirPods Jr. and I’m just as addicted.
They’ve become a part of my personality — along with the plethora of other quirks synonymous with my name. In the past year since “The Loss,” I’ve continued to do a lot of this Jesuit-taught, deep self-reflecting. Among that has been learning to accept someone once describing me as “delightfully odd.”
That offended me because I’m not odd, I’m just me. So this is me trying to find positive in the negative, a mindset I’ve been in these last few months.
Here’s me documenting my personality, quirks and tendencies in Rambling form.
A flash orange Little High Little Low beanie has become a staple in my wardrobe of all-black (and the occasional neutral sweatshirt and blue jeans). That hat paired with my vintage olive green trench coat makes for some Dwight Schrute energy, but I’m okay with it.
Frozen kefir and kombucha are still two staples of my diet, although I did admittedly go through a two-month period sans kefir. There’ll always be a bottle of kombucha in my fridge though.
My trusty vehicle is still running smoothly, easily transporting me to school and Central Camera. Mom and Dad, be proud. I’ve been parking-ticket-dry since October. What’s funny is my aux cord just broke, so a year later, I still have to (carefully, at a low volume) drive with AirPods in. I can either listen to music softly aimed directly in my eardrums, or have it blasting through the car’s speakers, just indirectly. Lucky me that my boyfriend surprised me with a new bluetooth car speaker just minutes after I smashed the cord in the door while parking to buy olives.
Central Camera — and the practice of film photography — still eats away at my paychecks, although at a healthier rate. My collection of film cameras is slowly but surely growing, thanks to Christmas and birthday gifts.
My editor pals still entertain my Rambling discussions during our meetings and production nights, and they’re going to soon start demanding columns so I can share my love of music, burgers and curly-haired French actors.
Music continues to steadily stream around me — while I’m home, in my car, walking to class, writing this column. I’ve greatly expanded my musical horizons this past year. I’ve embedded rock, most prominently in the form of my new, forever favorite bands The Strokes and The Voidz, in my mix of “video game music,” as one tall, curly-haired human in my life describes it.
Small Cheval, the take-out version of renowned West Loop’s Au Cheval, is in my vocabulary more often than frozen kefir is, which is saying something. The burger place haunts my dreams and gets me through the start of each week. It’s a blessing (and probably a curse, according to my bank account) there’s a location just blocks from Loyola’s Water Tower Campus. You know I like you if I suggest we go get dinner at the posh, mall-for-the-one-percent Aster Hall where it’s located.
If there’s one thing to note that has remained constant this past year is my love for Timothée Chalamet. Are we surprised? Not in the slightest. I’ll save you all my thoughts on that man.