I never cease to be amazed by the mysteries of the human brain. True, I have always toyed with the idea of going into psychology (and haven’t ruled it out completely yet), but I’m afraid my pursuit of that intrest might lead me down a dark alley where I would get beaten up and told all the secrets that there are to know about why and how we think the way we do. And perhaps my interest in psychology is really just an interest in rediscovering the mysteries of the physical brain after all.

Everyone is aware of the amusing ability of the brain to link multiple senses or various memories together, unknowingly. Hearing “Time of Your Life” by Green Day 10 years later still evokes the immediate recollection of watching the final episode of Seinfeld in the Lineen’s living room. Catching a whiff of cheap gas station air freshners still reminds me of riding around aimlessly in Matt’s Jeep, top down, for hours on end. Instantaneous, unprovoked memories, flooding multiple senses in harmony, producing momentary time travel in the span of a blinking eye.

I’ve written before about the cruelty of this particular ruse of life and nature, how the limits of our own humanity simply permit us a small number of “current memories.” But this idea of an emotional cache, a junk-bin of memories and feelings, is mind-boggling to me.

Beyond momentary instances of “where I was when I bought that CD” or “what I was wearing when I first met them,” the ability of renewed personal interactions to spawn this effect intruiges me more. People as the triggering factor, instead of smells or sounds, is something I’ve not thought much of.

As we make friends in life, it is a bond formed not in static, but in motion. We are connected as we all move forward in our journey…growing and adapting to the other aspects of our existance, right? Well, when friendships become distanced, spaced apart by time, geography or both, the macro-measurement (on a daily basis) of those changes becomes more noticeable. You see a friend that has been out of town for a few weeks and you’re immediately aware of all of the little details about your life that they need to be caught up on. But sadly, there are longer winters of absence in friendships.

Almost every single one of my close friends lives, in technical terms, “freaking far away.” From Cincinnati to Washington state, my closest friends are scattered across the lower 48. Needless to say, my interactions with them are limited at best. Random emails once every few months, returned voicemails filled with a hint of saddness. Life in your own world moves on, the tides of time not stopping for the miles of seperation between you. Next thing you know, it’s been three years or more since you’ve caught up with someone even on the most basic level. There was no falling out, just life getting in the way.

It’s amazing, though…awe-inspiring in fact, the ability some people have to pick right up where things left off. No weirdness, no pretense, no hesitant pauses or unsure glances. There is immediate recognition that neither of you planned this absence and no one is more at fault than the other.

But what is more incredible is how easily the brain and body adapt back to the time in your life where this person was integral. Body language reverts, speech patterns change and once overused inside jokes breath fresh air. Just as olafactory and auditory senses are so closely linked and memories rapidly accessible by the brain, the entire body adapts to previous memories and patterned behaviors simply upon contact with an old friend. Finally, the great distances of both time and miles are washed away in a split second.

With sounds or smells as triggering factors of memories, the recollection process is brief and fleeting. Intense in cruelty and unfair in its brevity, these moments never last more than a few seconds. But with another human as the variable factor, it is a more constant and lasting effect. Sure, as the hours of your reunion wear on, we unfairly and unconsciously adapt and our natural “take everything for granted” function creeps in. But even at a small degree, the total effect cannot be reduced to zero. Reliving memories through human interactions far surpasses that of living through photographs and scrapbooks.

So while I cherish remembering every minute detail about the circumstances surrounding my CD collection, the flood of emotion and memories that I am going to experience in the coming few days will be second to none. Having all of my closest friends and family, in one place, united in personal sacrifice of money and precious time, from all over the country, is the greatest gift anyone could give me.

I live for the memories, often neglecting the present in the process. So this weekend is the fodder for future waves of nostalgia. As we all go back to our homes Sunday, and the years roll by, I hope everyone will take with them just a smidge of this magic.

Over the past few months, I’ve been listening to a lot more music (admittedly, I wasn’t sure that this was possible). Actually, it’s been a lot more varied music. See, I listen to music all day at work, but at my last job, my jukebox was aired over speakers. Therefore, the selections had to please the musical tastes of 4 or more other individuals. Which is hard. Because I’ve found the virgin response to Bad Religion is usually an explosion of a head. So we tend to stay more mellow.

Anyway, now that I have my own office, it’s headphoneville for me. Which is nice, because I love my headphones. Granted I look like Princess Whatsherface from that Star Battles movie, but I don’t care. Good sound quality can suffer in the name of dignity. Just a little.

I’ve spent the past few months shuttling about an eighth of my collection between my home and my office, to the point where I have a modest 110 albums on tap.

The one thing that has surprised me though is just how much my tastes continue to evolve. Not change…because that indicates that I’m leaving genres behind. But evolve. Albums that I’ve read about that I’ll pick up because they sound good in theory…albums that I then shelve after three quarters of a listen because I just can’t get into it…I’m now discovering how good they are. Discs like Taking Back Sunday’s sophomore release, “Where You Want to Be,” (which is in rotation now) I’ve never fully listened to. First go around, the lead singer’s voice grated on my nerves, or the lack of a strong chorus peeved me. Small, trivial details cause me to chuck an album aside. Certain bands, releases, entire genres (read: most indie stuff) I take a turn from. I *rarely* completely rid myself of a disc. Instead, I just tuck it away to see if it’ll come back to me in a boomerang pattern.

Sure enough, the past many months have seem an upsurge in this. Is it because there has been significant change in the rest of my life? Does this cause one’s other tastes to change? Nonetheless, I’ve been rediscovering a ton of albums…bands that I thought I just would never enjoy. System of a Down (odd lyrical style), Rise Against (very aggressive), The White Stripes (pretentious and hyped), Death Cab for Cutie (grow a spine), Coheed and Cambria (emo meets prog rock?!). They have all found a fresh spot in my collection.

It’s a subtle yet amazing thing. It leaves me hopeful that other things in my life that I *swear* I’ll never do/like/say/want/try right now, could possibly…someday…just maybe…

…where money and false-starts don’t matter, I’d like to be a psychologist. So add that to the list of “things Brian would like to be when he grows up but not in this life because it’s too late.”

• Psychologist
• College professor
• Puppeteer for Jim Henson Studios
• Animator