"My" "Perfect" "Day"

My perfect day--as constructed from three separate and actual memories--may have actually been from the same day. Unfortunately my memory isn’t what it used to be, though come to think of it, I don’t actually remember what my memory used to be like. Anyhow, I chose these three events because they were the first to come to mind, rather than any actual ideal I aim for in my pursuit at a more perfect life.

The best morning I have on cerebral record was when I woke up from a vivid dream in which I was about to get a speeding ticket. The dream was so vivid it borders on boring with any re-telling that begins with, “So I had this dream…” However, as in real life, I was experiencing considerable frustration at the prospect of getting a ticket so when I woke up I celebrated. I had been given a “get out of jail free” card. I got all of the life experience of getting a speeding ticket without actually having to pay a fine. More over, I woke up quite late in the morning, which itself is good on two accounts: 1) warm beds are comfortable and 2) no school or other worldly obligations necessitated my existence. If it was my way, I think I’d make every dream I have rather miserable so that awaking can be that much more glorious and liberating. However, there is probably a downside to that wish that I am not seeing.

My perfect afternoon is, again, just the first one that came to mind. Actually, it may even read as lazily vague, but I assure you dear reader, this is true. The afternoon occurred sometime over winter break when I watched some movies with my little brother Chuckles. I think we watched The Hangover or Watchmen or something. Regardless, it serves in my memory as an indicator that Chuckles is back in my life after the better part of a 6 year absence--or from whenever I started high school. Aside from sharing a lazy (though cinematic) afternoon together, we were at the house that always has the most junk food: our parents’. There’s something about a sibling relationship that makes doing nothing really easy. Friendship relationships are like muscles, they require usage to stay strong. Sibling relationships are more like your skin. It’s always going to be there--barring some strange acid disaster that would surely lead to a life of super-villainy.

Like my perfect morning and afternoon, my perfect night is repeatable, unpredictable and more a commentary on life than just a flip anecdote. And that night was, again, some time over this last December or January. I was at friend’s house, which is actually lived in by multiple friends, though generally occupied by more, and it’s their house in the way that it’s own by the first friend’s parents. Confused? Good, because it doesn’t matter. Point is: a lot of my friends were together and we are all quite merry. I can’t swear to the absence or presence of alcohol, though my clouded memory is an indicator of latter. At one point we played a variation of a Russian card game we’ve come to know as “The Fool.” After that, or perhaps before that, we watched just awful television but had fun doing it. At one point I believe it was Revenge of the Sith—as that’s just an awful movie thrown on television periodically. Throughout the evening and night we shared laughs and had no less than 230 “you just had to be there” moments.

As I reflect on these three real life moments, I realize my life appears to be a pursuit of hedonism, though I routinely preach different avenues of duty and sacrifice. Likewise, my “perfect” moments are quite replicable though they don’t seem to occur as often as I’d like; or as often as any stranger would assume after reading this essay. And though these events are admittedly un-extraordinary, they are fun memories, but more importantly, they were fun moments to live and did not pass before my eyes unnoticed. If their valor is proven through no other reason than my loose ability to recall them, then they are still worth mention in what I would call my true perfect day.