Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Dawn

                I’ve been dumped, for the first time.  It doesn’t feel good.  You have to reconcile yourself with the fact that you won’t get to hold that beautiful being anymore.  If you can’t keep your personal relationship with them on good terms, you may not even be able to talk to them.  It’s an awful feeling.
                She told me I wasn’t doing anything wrong.  I didn’t particularly think I was-at least I hoped so.  The problem was that a relationship can be a stressful thing.  And she just couldn’t deal with that stress anymore.  I’ll get back to that later.  But another important factor she shared with me was the exact one I had on my mind. 
                To tell the story, one night I was hanging out at her house-feeling slightly ignored, to say the least.  I could tell that I wasn’t the number one thing on her mind that night, and that hurt me a bit.  There didn’t seem to be anything in particular to distract her, but I didn’t ask to find out.  So I sought to make myself more important.  I hid behind the couch, hoping she’d coming looking for me.  She didn’t.  She apparently knew I was back there the whole time, and didn’t bother to tell me so.  That hurt too.  But I sought to repair the mood.  So I stretched out on the couch with a blanket, hoping she’d sit down and at least cuddle a little.  But she stood there, sipping her Pepsi.  That hurt a little more.  Then her mom arrived-not that I hate the woman, she’s always been nice to me, but she was kind of in the way of my goals.  And she informed Dawn that they were going to head over to her (Dawn) dad’s house for a movie.  But I volunteered that I had to be home by 11-so I couldn’t come.  And while I was incredibly disappointed at being deprived of two hours with this girl, she didn’t flinch.  It made me feel like I didn’t matter.  So I walked out.  Straight to the car, not looking back.  Got in the car and put in one of my CDs-a customized mix, essentially for when I’m angry or determined or, you know, something intense like that.  She came up to say goodbye.  I figured her mom had sent her to do so, so I shrugged her off, and then just about crashed the car twice on the way home. 
                When I arrived at home, I whipped out my phone and began to text her, my emotions exaggerated by the music and by the fact that she was not present-none of her beauty or the emotion hidden in her eyes to mellow my anger.  And I committed the ultimate sin-exaggerating my belief that she wasn’t showing her full feelings in favor of accusing her of having no emotions.  As I was told the day we broke up two weeks later, she cried-for three hours.
                I woke up in the morning, apologizing over myself, trying to get her to forgive me.  I’d just let anger get the best of me, and I didn’t really mean it.  I really didn’t, too. 
                After what seemed like making up, I got comfortable again.  And I even moved towards things that could ensure the continuation of our relationship.  But sometimes it just seemed like something was off, and then she dropped the bomb.
                When she did, she compared herself waiting for a text to a dog waiting for its next beating.  I had promised her it wouldn’t come; I promised that I’d never do that again.  I didn’t understand how she held on to that, and not to the many times I told her how much I loved her and how amazing she was.
                But I was at wrestling practice last night, and kicking Markus’ ass.  It got to the point where he was so frustrated that every time I started on bottom, he’d do something painful; stick his knee in my back, land particularly hard (he weights thirty pounds more than me), etc.  I braced myself for that, even after he had stopped doing it.  And there came my epiphany.  I understood how Dawn felt, finally, and it would have to be worse than I was.  Physical pain I could deal with-I could even get my revenge by kicking his ass again.  But emotional pain messes with your head, and your heart.  And from your own boyfriend-that must be absolutely awful.  And I became so sorry that I ever made her feel that way.  For her to deal with me another two weeks after that became unbelievable-it required some real heart.
 I understood Dawn better than I ever had at that point, and although we’ve broken up, I still want to be there for her.  As much as she doesn’t want to believe it, she needs people to be there for her.  While she thinks they should all just give up on her, I refuse.  Giving up would be the opposite of what would help.  She needs someone who believes in her-someone to assure her that she’ll be okay, in the end.  She’ll find another guy, one who won’t hurt her, and she’ll live life.  Life sucks sometimes, yes.  It can really kick your ass.  But it doesn’t matter whether we like it or not, we still have to deal with it.  We have to understand that this is how life is, and we still have to live.  I may not like that we’ve broken up-I’d still probably take her back any day-but I have to deal with it.  That’s the way the world is now, and I have to live with it, whether I like it or not.  I think I’m doing pretty well with that.
I want the best for her.  I still want to be there for her, I still want to talk and laugh and smile with her.  I just won’t get to see her nearly as often, or hold her close as I loved to do.  I want to be friends, and I hope she’ll accept that.  I hope that this breakup won’t make her get down on herself-there was nothing wrong with her, as much as she thinks so.  I hope she can find a reason to believe in herself as I did.  And I hope she can move on, not dwelling on failures, but focusing on what she can do moving forward.

                

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Who Am I?

                Who am I?  It’s an important question I suppose, one that many people have tried to answer.  I give many different answers myself.  Sometimes I call myself a sarcastic asshole; others, number 4 (as in the fourth version of me, supposedly the best).  Crazy is one way to sum it up, or insane if the conversation is hyperbolic enough.  I could call myself a dreamer, but that may not necessarily be true.  I could call myself honest, but I live a lie itself.  I’ve lied to my own girlfriend thus far, and I feel guilty about it now.  That’s kind of heightened by the fact that she may be dumping me later today. 
                There are so many things they’ve told me I’d regret.  I suppose I should.  But then again, had I not done them, I never would have met Dawn.  I suppose it was a choice.  Dawn or my own sanity.  I wasn’t even sure she’d be at the other end of this road, but I’ve taken it, and managed to stumble upon her.
                Now that I’ve gotten off topic, let’s segway back using regret.  I don’t want to lose Dawn.  And so I think it’s time I stopped lying.  And although nobody reads this blog, I figured it would be easier to tell her if I put it down in words first.  I always thought I was a good man, and then came the day that I realized I was shutting the world out, and being ungrateful, prideful, judgmental.  I thought that because I was good, the rest of the world was bad.  It was a sort of melodramatic fantasy I created for myself.
                So who am I?  I’m a guy who watched too many movies.  I believed in the sheer emotional power of them, and the grand stories and the glory and the courage.  All those romantic dramas where the guy almost loses his girl but gets her back at the last second.  And the best part was, they only lasted a few hours.  That sure messes with my head sometimes.  I’ve gotta fuck around down here for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, when they could live out years in 10 minutes or less.  I look forward to every minute with my girlfriend because that is part of the emotional release of my movie.  The days I see her are those times in the movie when you get hope that there will be a happy ending.  School, and homework, and wrestling, and all of that shit I have to deal with every other day of the week are just road blocks; the antagonists working against me, the hero.  It is me against the world, trying to get the girl.  Heaven knows it would be a great storyline for two kids, each with their own passion (mine running, and hers color guard), and no other real connection to the society around them, going to cross-town rival high schools (Romeo and Juliet much?) managed to fall in love and stay that way forever, through thick and thin. 
                I took a relationship quiz today.  It told me nothing I didn’t already know.  We’re really good together, but I’m a bit clingy.  What a surprise.
                I am a product of every movie I’ve ever watched.  Every war movie and the penultimate “Captain America” made me a patriot.  Good Will Hunting taught me that sometimes it’s better to let the emotions go instead of hiding them.  Shawshank Redemption showed me that if there’s a will, there’s a way.  Doctor Who (a TV show, I know) made me want to save the world a thousand times over with a beautiful girl at my side.  Dead Poets Society put the power of words in my heart, and Good Morning Vietnam showed me that even the worst moments need some comic relief.  Top Gun taught me that the world goes on, and Braveheart taught me to never give up, even if it means giving your life.  Forrest Gump showed me that even those of us who are dejected by society can still make our mark on history, and The King’s Speech showed me that you don’t have to be the best speaker to be a leader.  I learned my race relations from Remember the Titans, and Mrs. Doubtfire made damn sure that I will love my children.  Far and Away taught me to keep dreaming, you’ll get there, and A Few Good Men taught me to believe in myself.  Jerry Maguire showed me how to fall in love, and The Secret Life of Walter Mitty gave me the courage to dare.  This is who I am, really.  Imagine a patched up teddy bear, with so many layers of old stitching all over that you can’t tell who he was in the first place.  In fact, that bear isn’t even there anymore.  Just the stuffing.  The memories.  The intelligence.  The basics.  And the old heart is still beating, told to march in so many different ways that it’s decided to grab on to something and hold it (Dawn), probably a little too tight.  But at least now she’ll know why. 

                

Friday, September 19, 2014

Rocket Man

                I am, admittedly, a storyteller.  Of all the things I have in this world, stories are the ones I talk about.  Stories can be about anything-from a harrowing near-death experience to a laughing-my-ass-off moment.  Every story is valuable to me.  They are what I show to other people.  When I’m trying to get closer to someone I tell them stories for a long time before we really start talking.  I suppose it’s how I handle being nervous.  If I tell a story that will make someone laugh, it’ll boost my confidence a bit.  I’ll be more comfortable talking.
                I want to live stories.  In all of my attempts at writing, I try to incorporate a story that is very close to me.  In fact, sometimes, I really am living a story.

                I had a crush on a girl for 18 months-yes, you read that right, 18 months.  I finally started to make a move to get closer, and, well, it didn’t end the way I had hoped.  At all.  Not even remotely.  I mourned for over a month, and it really got me down.  But I was at work one day, pushing around carts, and a girl, who it felt like I recognized but didn’t really know, walked up wearing a Kroger uniform.  Her first words to me? “You’re free.” Now that is symbolic.  But I wouldn’t have been working there had my mother not known somebody who knew somebody.  And I wouldn’t have had the courage to walk up to this girl later that day and start a conversation had my sister never introduced me to my new favorite show, Doctor Who (this girl had a TARDIS bumper sticker).  That is my favorite story, and I hope it gets better from here.  

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Demons

                The Doctor once said, “When you think about it, we are all different people, all through our lives.  And that’s okay, that’s good, you’ve got to keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be.”
                And that inspired me to remember all the people that I used to be.  When I think about it, truly, it seems I’ve regenerated three times.  Now, these sorts of regenerations take a lot longer-a year or more as a transition.  But they are changes nonetheless.
                As I looked back, I found my demons.  I recognized them as they were, and understood why I was who I am today.  I, number four, am a product of all the things I found wrong with myself.  I come from all of those things I’ve decided to change.
                The first me was still innocent.  That was me as a small kid, just learning how to be in the world.  He was a bit of an attention hog, and a ball hog.  I suppose the fact that he was a bit jealous that his new sister took away from the attention he received through him into a sour mood sometimes, which led to number two.
                Number two developed in number one’s year of preschool.  The development of an awful temper came about, along with a tendency to over-dramatize things.  Number two pushed his sister down the stairs, and through plenty of tantrums.  He was not the kind of little kid you wanted to be around when he got angry.  Sometimes he’d drive himself to tears.  But on the good side, he was generally respectful to adults and well-behaved, something every version of me has carried on.
                Number three came about in fifth grade.  He was like an upgraded version of number two, and not in a good way.  The temper was worse, and he became very secluded.  He’d listen to depressing songs in the evening, and hated to socialize.  He pretty much stopped doing things with friends and kept to his own, sometimes radical thoughts.  Number three threatened his sister with a golf club because she laughed when he lost his favorite golf ball, and had an argument with a girl that drove her to tears.  Now that is something he’s not proud of.  Three never, for even a second, believed he had it wrong.  He stood up for what he believed was right, even when it wasn’t.  Although he finally stopped tucking his shirt in, he had to be pushed by his mother to join a sports team besides wrestling.  That was cross country.
                Number three held a reign of terror until he developed a crush on a girl from his church.  That crush lasted 18 months, and that was the longest transition period in any “regeneration.” He slowly became more kind, more open.  He developed new ideas, his own, instead of relying on the Republican Party’s platform.  He could tolerate modern music more than he used to, and was more open to doing things with friends.  Most of all he gained dreams, real dreams, things he knew he’d love to do.
                But it was rough going.  When the 18 month crush came to a close, he needed a spark to officially light #4’s fire.  He could sense a good man coming, but he couldn’t let himself fall backwards.  A month later, he got his spark.  He was at work, thinking of all the bad things that had happened to him and singing sad songs under his breath.  He pushed in cart after cart, not caring why.
                And then, finally, a girl walked up to him.  He had never seen her before.  She was wearing a Kroger uniform and he knew, at that moment, that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  That was the first face this face saw.  That’s me, number four.  I am the counter to number three.  I am the best version of me that there has ever been.  I don’t really want to change again, because I’m afraid some of number three may leak through.  But I am young, and I know I should still have plenty of time with this version of me.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

The Most Inspiring Thing You Will Ever Read

                Life isn't about the things that we do not do.  Those do not affect us nearly as much as the things we do.  By doing things we create meaning for ourselves.  We shape who we are by the actions we take.  And whether we fail or succeed it is still something we have attempted and that in itself shapes our creed.  When we fail it is a lesson, and every time we fall we must seize the opportunity to redeem ourselves with more fervor than before. 
                And let this be my creed:
I will not go quietly into the night.  
I will rage against the dying of the light.  
I will never give up without a fight.

                Fiat lux.






"not go quietly into the night" and "rage against the dying of the light" are from a poem by Dylan Thomas

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Kilroy on Regret

                At my age, we’re not supposed to have it.  Adults tell us not to have any regrets.  Well I’m 16 and I have a long list.  A lot of people regret things they did, but the worst regrets are the things we didn’t do. 
                I regret not striking up a conversation with that girl today at church. 
                I waited a year and a half to talk to her and all I could muster was “hello.”
                I regret not talking to the girl across the table at lunch last year.
                She took her own life that winter.
                Those little mishaps can drive us under when we dwell on them.  There are lessons to be learned from each of these, but that is all.  When we dwell on things they consume us.  They begin to define who we are, how we act, and how we treat others.  They can determine our actions in the future.  But that is our mistake.  We kick ourselves over and over for what we’ve done wrong and spend so much time looking down that we fail to look up.  There will come opportunities down the road to redeem yourself if you only dare to look.
                I sent the girl a message the moment I got home from church because I knew it was time to act.
                I’m doing my best to help a friend out of depression because I don’t want to see her go.

                So when we feel the worst about the things we’ve done and the things we’ve failed to do, that’s when it’s time to look up and realize that redemption is sweeter than revenge.  It may not erase our actions of the past, but it will benefit us for the future.  So while regret is unavoidable, it is not infallible. 

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Far and Away

                I had a post typed out.  Sadie had even commented on it.  Sorry Sadie.  But I’ve decided to change it.  Significantly.
                Now I suppose that you could say I’ve been looking up for my entire life.  Always looking to my dreams, only focusing on how to get there and how wonderful it would be.
                But when that goal is taken from you (not by money, by something else more cursing than that), it gives you a chance to look down.  You see where your feet are and you figure out what you really want.  Now that I’ve spent my life looking up it’ll be difficult adjusting.  There will be a piece of me shouting to pick up the pace, but…the truth is it’s time to slow down. 
                Money is nice, in its best form.  Its best form is as something to provide for the family.  And then, when you’ve got enough of it, you can buy a new car, or a pool, or something to enjoy.  And when you get a lot of it…well shoot you can pretty much buy happiness, as long as you haven’t let that money corrupt you.  I’ve got nothing against money.  In the line of work I was shooting for I could’ve had quite a bit of it someday (or I could have died, but I wasn’t planning on that). 
                The trick to money is, honestly, being honest about it.  It can corrupt you, if you let it.  I suppose that’s where all the hate comes from.  But, in truth, it’s time for all of us to stop for a moment, look down and find our feet, and decide what we really want.  Then we can pursue it, regardless of the money it requires.

                “Far and Away” (starring Tom Cruise) is about an Irish immigrant, poor as dirt, trying to find his way to Oklahoma.  And you know what?  After trying to suffer through life boxing to buy his way to Oklahoma, he takes a moment.  Then he runs, and, sure enough, will eventually make it to Oklahoma in time to claim himself a spot of free-yes free, as in no money required-land.  And a little piece of land, with green pastures that roll just a little, and a stream running through the fields, is all he ever wanted.  Congratulations, Joseph.