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.