What the hell IS vintage these days, anyway?

This might look like two posts in the same day, but to me, it's not. Days end when I go to sleep, damnit! xD

I sat on a porch swing today on the front deck of a house on Mulberry Street. Here I sat with at least 6 or 7 other people- some sitting on various chairs of various types; folding, rocking, whatnot; some standing- and I was content.
Most of them were smoking, and one of them had a considerable resemblance of Iggy Pop.

Seriously.

This was the late afternoon, and it wasn't particularly hot, but the heat had set in for the day.

Anyway, I was sitting here with these people thinking about how I'd have loved to live when the music was good, and everyone was so carefree.
I've often said I should've been born 50 years earlier. I feel like living [CONSCIOUSLY living, mind you] during the 70s and 80s would really make me happier than I am these days. Hell, you can tell that by the music I listen to.

It's strange to me, though, that people long for different times... that they haven't even lived through. Are people born to their designated time period/undesignated time period, or does it matter?
I've thought about this often... sometimes people say they've been born into the wrong gender, or sometimes [fewer times, indubitably], people say they've been born into the wrong culture. But to be born into the wrong time period?

Maybe I'm just weird.
I haven't really decided yet.

Food for thought.

-CS.

Filing cabinets?

I realized today that though I remember things quite easily, I can't remember for the LIFE of me where these things are referenced from. For example, I can recall quotes and concepts and stories from movies and books and TV shows, but it takes me a minute to remember who said what in which movie or book or show.
I was talking to someone just a while ago about how my mind must be like a big box with papers strewn about it, instead of the average intellectual's mind: a filing cabinet. Labels on everything, sending all information to its proper place.
I want a filing cabinet mind! Then I could remember where statistics were from, and who said which quotes.

[And I swear I haven't blown up my filing cabinet with narcotics. I swear!]

I've also determined that when you've found someone to love, loving them is very different far away. That is, you love them the same, but you want them to be there so much that you get this longing feeling attached to the love... you sit there thinking about how wonderful it would be for them to be there so you could feel them. And when I say feel, I mean feel their presence in any way possible. I find myself doubting the presence of others at times- not physically, but... I don't know, call it existentialism. It just gives me great delight to feel someone living and breathing beside [and BESIDES] me, to feel their warmth, and not necessarily in a romantic sense, but just... proof of survival?

Of course, romantic senses of this proof are wonderful too. To hold and be held, and to feel someone there with you, and to practically make a game involving whoever can get the closest to the other.

Wow, tangent. You can tell what I'm thinking about, ne? If I'm making any sense today, I feel like I should award myself a medal, hah.

I also really don't like how personal this post is becoming, so I'm going to cut it here.

-CS.