This morning was like college at OU all over again. I woke up groggy, with a little headache, thinking what did I do last night? And then in class montage-fashion, the images from the night before flashed through my pre-breakfast & coffee mind: Three glasses of wine, a shot of SoC0, a creepy townie bar, and good times with my brother and his friend. Nothing a good breakfast couldn’t cure. I wandered upstairs to find my mom opening up the box to her new waffle maker and immediately found myself experience flashbacks to Sunday Brunch at Nelson Dining Hall (circa 2003-04 school year) and the waffle irons that provided hangover cures for many students over the years.
Brunch at Nelson was a staple for my OU family (Brandon, Libby, Mike, Rebecca, Phill, Amanda…) during my sophomore year. It was no-more than a five-minute walk along the infamous catwalk from Dougan (my dorm) to Nelson and five minutes later that we would be at our table (in the back) sharing the (sometimes blurry) details of the night before. Of all of the thousands of memories and things that I love about OU, Sunday Brunch was definitely near and dear to my heart.
To my OU family, that has expanded over the years, I love & miss you all!!
Okay let’s rewind to present day at least for now, although I make no problems that my fingers won’t magnetically find themselves drawn to the keys typing ramblings of my past college days again.
I am reading the novel, The Romantics by Galt Niederhoffer, before the movie comes out in a few weeks. (Books are always better than their movies after all.) Not only do I love the concept behind this novel, but watching the aesthetically appealing trailer I find myself captivated by it all, especially the plotline. A group of college friends reunite for the wedding of two of their own, and the tagline for The Romantics reads: A romantic drama about love, destiny and other events you just can’t plan for. Just based on that and knowing me through this blog and/or outside of it, this is most certainly a story for me. Add in a complicated, (somewhat) realistic, love triangle between the Bride (Lila), Groom (Tom), and Maid of Honor (Laura), and ladies & gentlemen, I am in The Romantics Fan Club. If you’re intrigued at all, take a look at the trailer for yourself: The Romantics Movie Trailer.
Let me note that I’m not too far into the novel, but this is one of my favorite lines. And coincidentally it comes on page 51- which if you do know me, you know that this is somewhat of a significant, or better put, haunting, number for me.
Memories of Tom looked different. Their colors were sharper and richer, like grass after it rains. And she had been in love enough times to rule out the possibility that this was merely some feat of nostalgia.
My OU memories are much richer than others. In a moment, like brought on by the mere sight of a waffle maker, I can find myself roaming the aisles of Nelson Dining Halls, trekking through the streets of Athens, or engaging in a heart-t0-heart on the porch at 3 am.
So are my memories of my ‘Tom’. This morning I woke up with a mini-panic attack from a dream about “Tom’s” wedding, and how everyone outside the church was trying to keep me from ‘him’ and giving me those “that’s her” looks. (Those looks that I used to get all the time in Athens during my college years and sometimes even hear whispers of “That’s Kristen”.)
There are so many times that I tell myself (and other confidantes) that “I’d be fine if he was engaged, married, had kids. I just want to know. And know that he’s happy. Then I can move on…finally. I just need to know.” But with last night’s dream still finding a place in my head today I cannot help but wonder if I’m just fooling myself believing those words.
With respect to The Romantics, I obviously relate Laura (Katie Holmes) and this line is another that left me thinking so at the mere glimpse of the phrase: Unfortunately, she could never share the extent of their relationship. So she stomached the disgrace and let them think what they pleased. They were, at least, correct in thinking that she was brokenhearted. Only, she was not brokenhearted because the relationship had ended suddenly; she was brokenhearted because it had never truly ended. (51-52)