Not many people know this about me but I’m quite the data hoarder. My full disk backups stretch all the way back to 2008 which is probably more than 99.999% of other people my age. Some people have scrapbooks, others have their memories preserved in social media posts dating back to the dawn of the modern internet. I’ve always been fond of offline, digital backups, personally.
Maybe if I had a better memory it would be a less significant experience. But every 3-4 years when I review and reorganize my backups there’s always something that catches me off guard. This Saturday, March 11, 2023, on the eve of Daylight Saving Time and a week before Spring officially kicks off, it was 2011. Specifically, an album that came out that year by a band called Explosions in The Sky. Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. Just the name alone causes me to slightly seize up with emotion. The 46 minutes and 5 seconds of instrumental magic, spread across 6 tracks, transport me back to my youth, to a year that shaped the course of the next decade of my life.
That year, I was grappling with the loss of my closest friend and mentor. My faith in romantic relationships had been shaken after years of unrequited pursuits. On top of that, I was facing other personal challenges that I won't delve into here. 2011 was the year I dropped out of college. I was brimming over with creativity and on many occasions, optimism. But ultimately the stress prevented me from staying organized and disciplined enough to stay in school. No one will ever know how truly isolated I was during that time. I’ve honestly never recovered from the stress, isolation, and failure of that year.
While rummaging through folders upon folders of old data today, I unearthed a copy of Take Care, Take Care, Take Care. It was like opening a time capsule, reminding me of the all the change I went through in 2011, of the losses I mourned and those that slipped through my fingers before I even noticed they were gone.
It was mid-April and I had gotten my hands on Explosions in The Sky’s new album a week early as part of my participation in the Warez scene. I grabbed my laptop, connected it to my car’s stereo and drove out to a secluded recreational area for a private listening party of one. It was windy. I remember opening my driver’s door at one point, standing beside my car and opening my arms as the Great Plains wind blew around me and the songs played. Let Me Back In, the last song was titled. As I felt control of my future slipping away I remember that sound.