voice memos

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I think voice memos can tell a lot about a person, maybe more so than pictures. Pictures we expect people to see, so we look pretty. We smile nice. Not voice memos. No one goes around sharing voice memos, unless 'they' is 'me' and the voice memo being shared is a Muppet rendition of We Three Kings. Really, though. I think there is a certain level of gravity here.

I have an iPhone SE, and it runs out of storage every, oh, I don't know... let's say 3-4 hours. I'm always deleting things to make room for something more. Those things are sometimes voice memos. Picture the scene: I'm lying in my bed at 12:41 in the morning because I belong to the John Green school of adolescence. I'm trying to download Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, the audio book that made me late to choir (how does an audio book make you late to choir, you ask? When your Spanish teacher keeps you after class and sings its praises in six-part harmony). Download. My phone shakes its finger, ha ha, sorry, you're out of storage. So I scroll through my photos and delete some. I delete Word Reference (much to the chagrin of the aforementioned Spanish teacher). I go to voice memos, intending to delete some useless blurbs.

Instead, I find:

1. The Linking Verbs song. and is are was were be being been have has had shall should could can will would may might must did do does

2. Commercials for stores I made up. Cheese! Pepperoni! Spicy! Sweet! Coming to this pizzeria's a real treat. 

3. My Story of Awesomeness (something to do with a tomato and a dog called Pluto).

4. The York Minster Bells. And lots of lots of blustering wind. Also, the sound of the top of the Empire State Building.

5. A chat with my middle school friends from New Year's Eve, 2016. It's titled, Taylor Emma Maya

6. Me harmonizing... with myself... to NATIONWIDE IS ON YOUR SIDE.

7. Me complaining about golf-sized hail to some friend who was in Hawaii. I think it was Dylan from elementary school (confirmed - it is followed by Dylan from elementary school playing 'Unbelievable' by Owl City at double speed on piano).

There's me doing wings in tap dance, which are complicated to explain and to do. Melodramatic deliveries of Adele ballads in my tinny seventh grade voice. You can see my music taste change as the files progress: Tom Petty, Khalid, Bon Iver. There's my Grandma singing 'Row, Row Your Boat," and my Spanish teacher (you knew she'd come back) talking about the "shit show" (her words) that is remote school. Matt Smith talking about Jammie Dodgers; Mr. Fox, my AP Human Geography teacher, talking about religious freedom and how if you're the second son in a feudalistic world, you're screwed; my audio book narration audition. 

The best part of all has nothing to do with the audio itself. It's that I remember every single one of these moments. I recorded NATIONWIDE IS ON YOUR SIDE in my middle school cafeteria (which was called the Cafetorium), before rehearsal for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the Musical, Jr. Liz from choir helped me out. Mr. Fox's lecture is from one of our after school review sessions - my best friend Lily and I would run to Torpedo the Coffee Shop and grab lattes before the sessions started. It was cold. On New Year's Eve, Emma and I were at Taylor's house, and that was the first time I stayed up passed midnight. The night it hailed golf balls? I was wearing my Arizona Jeans t-shirt. Orange. Not a good look.

I remember how things looked and tasted and loved and hurt and felt, all thanks to some thoughtless audio. It's pretty crazy. It makes me happy. 

Now, please excuse me. I must go send 'Unbelievable' at double speed to Dylan from elementary school. 

- Maya

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