Fog part 2. Now with rain!

I’ve never really understood why fog and rain was interesting to other people but that’s probably because I’ve never bothered to ask them. The region in which I inhabit is characterized(by people who don’t live here) with heavy rainfall year round and while that isn’t entirely true(summer is fantastic), it’s part of the reason I like living here so much. I often hear my family talk about moving to Hawaii of California, somewhere warm. I can certainly see the appeal but I would never feel at home there. The strongest memory I have of Hawaii is the day it began to rain. The sun was setting and it cast a brilliant orange and red shadow across the clouds above us just as it began to sprinkle softly. It was still warm outside, probably around 70 degrees (F), and as the rain fell upon us it was comforting and soft and, most importantly, not cold. I have no sounds to attach to this memory, but I can feel the rain whenever I think back on it. That is how I most strongly remember Hawaii and exactly why I wouldn’t want to live there. Its warm and beautiful and even the rain seems inviting but it would never be “home”. Home is cold and dark, the air is crisp and bites at your lungs when you breathe in too deeply. If you go jogging in the morning, your lungs with be cold and stinging before your legs even realize they are moving. Being awake that early though means you get to enjoy the fog as It rises from the fields and moves skywards to create the rain clouds later in the day. Early morning fog is simply beautiful to me, the air at the time is sharp and attacks you with its coldness. It gives the fog a feeling of harshness even though you can never get within reach. When you become used to the air and comfortable with the fog, its hard to find a more relaxing view in the morning, There is a small hill near where I live which is home for about half a dozen or so horses. It’s one of those bizarre hills on another hill that is a challenge to explain. There is a field at the base of the small hill where the horses usually congregate. Halfway up is a modest house as well as a barn for the animals. Every morning I am given the opportunity to watch the dew rise to eye level and form a cloud of fog. The ground and surrounding forest are all wet and a deep dark shade of green while everything else is bled of color. The fog seems to absorb light and grey is all that is left. It even steals my breathe from my grey lungs which try to bring in the grey air. Life slows down during those few seconds and that moment sticks with me longer than anything else I might encounter throughout the day. I remember going to California, to San Francisco, to meet the fog there. I admit I was disappointed when we finally made it to the Golden Gate Bridge. The fog was white and thick, and the air there didn’t feel right in my lungs. That was my first encounter with fog from the sea, and when I realized these two types of fog were two separate beasts. I found little relaxing in the salty air of San Fran, as we left and headed back to the dry dusty desert where there is no fog and it rains only a couple times a year. Nearly everything is brown and looks dead, even in the spring. The few plants which do turn green or bloom require immense care and are certainly not indigenous to the area. The climate there is far too different from my more drippy, drizzly, rainy preference. It seems like my body needs the rain and the moisture. I can’t stay anywhere else for too long. I’ve been in other countries with similar climates, England and Denmark, and felt rather comfortable there, almost like I could stay if given the opportunity.

Fuck You.

“Fuck you” is one of those wonderful sayings that is so very versatile and has many uses and meanings behind it. According to my substantial knowledge on the subject, it came into use about 8 years ago(possibly sooner) when I learned of this magical phrase and the rest of the world suddenly began using it as well. It is often used as an insult of sorts but I much prefer to use it jokingly and out of context. For example, a new way of using this phrase has reared its head and is quickly gaining popularity. It is being used to

Fig A.

punctuate ideas or responses and while it makes little sense when used it is quite effective, and hilarious. I refer to this as “because fuck you” and would now like to point your attention to Fig. A. which is displaying said usage.

There are of course other ways of expressing the fucking of specific others, many of which are friendly. If a friend were to throw a water balloon which proceeded to hit you square in the face, a reasonable response would be to laugh and say “fuck you, man”. However, if a complete stranger threw said water balloon at you, the expected response would be “fuck you, man” without the laughter. This is an important distinction because they aren’t your friend and therefore does not deserve your laughter. Then, of course, there is the use as an exclamation though this is still somewhat directed towards others. If one were to jump from a cliff into water some hundred feet below, the preferable course of action would be to jump, spin around mid air, and when about 5 feet out and 5 feet down yell out “fuck you” to the people still on the cliff. It is optional, though encouraged, to let the “you” trail off while you fall with the splash used to punctuate your exuberance.

attle

Blue Skies On My Mind

I’m surprised by how often I find myself awake at 5 A.M. and have to choose between falling asleep or spend a moment writing. Tonight, obviously, I’ve decided to release a bit of emotion or angst or anxiousness or something, I’m not entirely sure. I’m simply in a writing mood. I suppose, since I don’t have a subject chosen, I will write about the next few weeks. Classes start on the 19^th, which I’m reasonably excited about. Since I decided to take classes that interest me rather than classes that I’m expected to take, maths and sciences and all that, I’ve begun enjoying school more. What? Taking subjects I’m interested in is more fun then boring classes? What a world shattering discovery. While it sounds pathetic, I feel like most kids my age still take things that are expected to learn rather than what they really want. I think this is sad though they will probably have a more successful (financially) life then me. Funnily enough the song just changed to How Lucky We Are by Meiko and the first line reads “Someday we’ll get out of this shitty apartment”. How I wish that was today. Sometimes/always I wish life skipped ahead 5-10 years so I could just autopilot to a stable life and live from there. Partly because I’m lazy, partly because I don’t trust myself, and partly because I don’t know what to do for the next few years. I want to be a teacher but I don’t know how to teach, I want to live independently but I don’t know how to be alone, I want to be different in many ways but I don’t know how to change. I also, on most days, don’t want to change, I just want to appear different to others, is there an app for that? “Open me up and you will see, I’m a gallery of broken hearts” Pandora is feeling my mood in a very timely matter tonight.

 

I kind of suddenly want to start working on another short story, ignoring the fact that I have no rough ideas or characters I want to explore. I just want some writing to work on for a while that won’t be academic. It’s been a lifelong(or like 2 year long) dream of mine to write for Valve, working on the Half-Life series. Maybe I’ll start some fanfiction sort of thing as horribly ridiculous as that sounds to me. I think instead I will call it an alternative story line. That sounds less fanboyish and will hopefully let me keep a little self respect. I think I’ll start that tomorrow night instead of sleeping. It seems like a better investment of my time. I need no sleep now a days anyways. Sleep is for the productive and the helpful, neither of which would describe my last few months, sadly. I did, however, convince myself to start cooking more often again. I’ve always enjoyed cooking and I think its probably more healthy then scrounging the fridge every day eating the same frozen food. Spaghetti w/ italian sasauge meatballs has been my recent favourite though I think I will try Chili soon. I found this website, www.cookingcomically.com that has a few(I mean very few, 4 at time of writing) things that I want to try. And of course by “want to” I mean “will”. I’m much more proactive about cooking then anything else, and I feel more productive afterwords. I’m looking for another pro-word to lead into the next subject but I can’t seem to find any. Proportions is a weird word.

 

I think while I’m in this writing mood I’m going to get to work on those letters I promised(there we go) myself months ago. I think its funny that I want to start writing more the week before class starts. For those who are unaware I’m taking 2 literature classes and a History class so I should be sufficiently busy with essays and whatnot. So hey whats another few things thrown into the mix to keep me even more busy. Actually I think the personal stuff is what will keep me sane over the next few months. Just writing academically is exhausting and I occasionally need to write something just for myself. Not unlike how some people just need to be able and have a bit of a cry once in a while. How perfect was that metaphor? Not at all? Oh well, I think the small conversation with myself forces the point that it is 5:15 and the sun will be coming up soon. Bed time!

 

attle

Its almost PAX time.

If you’re only interested in what I have to say about PAX then skip this first paragraph.

We’re closing in on quite possibly the most exciting weekend of the year for me, the Penny Arcade Expo. I’ve been eagerly anticipating this since the very minute the last one ended and I’m wholly certain it will live up to all of my expectations and indeed exceed them to some extent as I can never predict how amazing the weekend will be. Yet at the same time I can’t help but feel a little… down. I’m not entirely sure why so I just attribute it to my personality. Over the past five years or so I’ve felt “down” the majority of the time, this being amplified sometimes and excluded during other fleeting moments. I try to force myself to look on the bright side as is said but that only goes so far. I think a major part of it is that i worry about my future. I’m hoping to major in English and possible get a job as a teacher for creative writing or literature in a high school setting because thats what the kids love now a days(/sarcasm). And while I think I will enjoy that and I know I love writing so I’ll be fine in that regard, teachers get sucky pay and have to spend a good amount of their income of supplies for their classes. I’d like to supplement my pay by writing part time for a newspaper or magazine but that wouldn’t really pay much at all, ignoring the fact that I’ve been writing less and less recently(Oh, you noticed that too did ya). While worrying about my future, I try to look forward and imagine myself in a decent environment doing what I enjoy and doing it well, but I don’t see anything. I can’t even imagine myself being slightly successful. Because of my inability to see the future(You’d think that this would be more rare of a trait but you would be surprised) I try to live everyday as I want. I try to have fun and I try to enjoy it though it is tough for the people around me I’m sure. It’s also tough for my future as I prefer fun over responsibility. And now I’m tired of writing about this, why can’t we just discuss something cheerful like PAX for Christ sake.

It’s next weekend, as I may have mentioned earlier, and I couldn’t be more excited. We get to continue the tradition of Bubble Tea and booth babes, free shirts and false idols, and crazy costumes with uncomfortably old men inside of them. I just love this time of the year. Game I am excited for include but are not limited to Guild Wars 2, Torchlight 2, Eve Online(as always), whatever Valve has to offer, the new LotRo expansion(Riders of Rohan, I think), Battlefield 3 which is supposed to be playable in the PC freeplay section, Deus Ex though I’m not sure if it will be there, Skyrim, and I’ll probably find myself hanging around the Hi-Rez and Riot Games booths to see what they have to say. Other then that we’re hoping to catch a few panels, GW2 and Skyrim related things, as well as the LoadingReadyRun panel. We went to that last year and it was great so we’re going to try to make it to their meet-up this time.  Other then that I image we will hit up the Bobachine that is in the area a few times, maybe some Blue C Sushi and some other nice restaurants.

Gah I cannot wait for Friday. I may just spend this whole week in the pool trying to pass the time in this amazing heat. It was 85 degrees out today, as someone who has lived in Seattle their whole life, that is unacceptably hot. My room is almost unbearable by noon as it faces the sun, its an unpleasant way to wake up. I’m thirsty the moment I’m awake and the shower doesn’t really help cool me down. I need some entertainment for the next few days and I think I’m going to try to fill them with writing, cooking, and swimming. Maybe I’ll feel semi-productive. In the name of productivity however, I don’t have anything to say because I’m a lazy bastard. I’ve been meaning to write a couple letters for a few months now. One to Stephen Fry(I think I’ve mentioned this) and one to a girl who I once had a class with. I will write to Stephen one of these days without a doubt, I just need to solidify what I want to say in my mind before putting it down on paper/screen. However I’m not sure what to do with this girl. She’s changing schools so there is a good chance I’ll never see her again which relieves the anxiety/guilt from doing something so odd but at the same time it’s just weird. From what I’ve been told at least. Apparently people don’t write letters to people they only slightly know. Which is odd because I’ve done it several times, I enjoy it actually. I’m much more fluent and expressive through text, and that’s sad. Oh well, I’ll wake up tomorrow and read this and decide if it’s a good idea or not. Or you could tell me, you know, whatever.

Oh, I haven’t said anything about music yet. I’ve been listening to a lot of Metric and Sabrepulse recently. Now that is some similar music. Also I quite like the Jakwob remix of Starry Eyed by Ellie Goulding. Besides that I’m not really sure. If you like video game footage(Mostly of Eve Online) and want to know what I’m listening to(I put music over my recordings so you don’t hear my friends and myself screaming at eachother) then subscribe to me on Youtube(clicky), I put out a video every week or so.

-attle

4 A.M.

Part 1(Written at around 4 A.M.):
Staying up until the wee hours of the morning always puts me into a writing mood. Especially if I have some excellent music to accompany me. Tonight is a little different as I may have had a fun amount to drink. I don’t like being drunk but being tipsy makes me happy. I feel in control of my actions but I become a little more outspoken (I suppose that seems extremely average and possibly the definition of tipsy but shut up I’m new to this). Not enough that most people will notice, but enough that my friends and I do. The combination of rum and Regina Spektor creates the mood from which my following emotions flow. I’ve told myself many times over the last few weeks not to write this, but in the back of my mind I’ve still wanted to. That is usually the sign of a bad idea but the amount of alcohol I’ve had blurs the lines of acceptable and stupid. I at least want to get it down on paper (I write everything on paper first), I’ll decide if I will post it later (guess what I chose).
I wasn’t sure what to think of you when you were first introduced, I didn’t know whether or not I should like you. Over time I recognized your openness and honesty which I admire so much in people. I had a stupid disposition to dislike or at least stay adamantly indifferent to people with bleached hair. I blame someone from my past though I shouldn’t, I thought I forgave her. After a while I developed an unfortunate crush on you, drawing me into drama I’d left in my past. I romanticize and perfect you in my imagination and it destroys my ability to function alone. When I am, you appear in my mind and take over everything. I don’t even know you well at all at this point but I’m building you up to this perfection that cannot exist. I build you up to disappoint me without even getting to know you. Oddly enough I actually got the opportunity to chat with you, which is rare for me. You surprised me with your kindness and how much you shared with me. I was truly thankful for that and you actually lived up to what i had imagined. I was stunned because you turned out to be a legitimately lovely person (That sounds like a kind of dickish thing to say but hey, people tend to be dicks). Unfortunately I am a romantic goon with no control over my emotions, and you have a strong, steady relationship with a long-term boyfriend whilc I doubt will let up any time soon. This is essentially where we stand now, I don’t want to talk to you because I don’t want to fall for you and in my tiny mind I feel like I might pull you two apart and I certainly don’t want that to happen. I enjoy chasing after you in my mind and I wish I could do something outside of that but I can’t, and I won’t until I feel comfortable with your relationship status, or at least the lack there of. It sounds sort of heartless I suppose, or conceited maybe, but I’ll wait until you’re alone and then maybe we can be alone together. (Jesus that was pathetically cheesy. It was like 4 A.M. give me a break.)

Part 2(Written about 2 hours later, probably meant to be an addition to the previous essay but screw it I’m tired):

I’ve been waiting to tell you how pretty you are physically, but more importantly in personality. I’ve developed an embarrassing crush on you(every time I use that word I feel like I’m 12 years old or something. is there anything more “grown up”?) but that is unimportant. What I want you to come away with from this is that you are an exemplary person and I admire your openness and honesty. Also, I’m not sure what this includes or entails or even means, really, but I want to somehow become friends. I don’t know if I’m supposed to show you more weird and semi-useless magic cards or share stories of the sports I used to play or what, but I want to be friends, somehow.

Lastly, I’ve been chilling, listening to George Watsky. Watch this.

attle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Who am I?

After a conversation, someone asked me who I used to be, who I am now, and why I changed. This was my semi-long response.

When I was younger, as I may have mentioned many times, I played a ton of sports, mainly baseball. At the busiest we had 3-5 practices a week, 2 hours each, and 2 games on the weekends. I was practically my entire life, literally. If I wasn’t at school there was an extremely high chance I was doing something related to baseball. I had met all of friends through our team and maintained relationships with them because of our common interest. I was most certainly a jock, though I like to think I wasn’t the douchey kind. I was the nice kind who just happened to actually be rather good at sports. That aspect hasn’t really changed but I’ll get to that later. So, my life was based around a baseball schedule and that was working fine for a while, until something snapped in my mind. At school one day, while playing basketball, someone in my class hit me from behind rather hard and I fell to the ground. I felt fuzzy the rest of the day and my head was uncomfortably distant feeling(if that makes sense). I felt like something wasn’t attached properly. After a visit to the doctor a few days later it was explained that I had a concussion. It didn’t stop my baseball practicing though it probably should have. Ever since then I’ve been unable to remember certain parts of my life. By certain parts I mean most of my childhood. I remember things here and there but for the most part I don’t have recollection of anything pre-16ish years of age. I can’t remember classmates or teachers from high school or junior high, and even some of the teachers and classes at college I can’t remember. When I began to recognize that I was loosing memories and that it wasn’t normal to forget things so simple, my life was taking a turn for the worse. From age 17 to 19 I suffered quietly(I didn’t tell anyone) from depression. No one really knew, though neither did I without confirmation from a doctor, what was going on until June 15th 2009. I cut myself for the first time and I felt incredibly sick and uncomfortable and was having trouble breathing. I went to the hospital when I woke up the next morning and told them what happened. I was cheery and approachable, like a normal kid, but the doctors could still tell that something was wrong with me. I was sent to a specialist after the doctors in the hospital were done testing for viruses or family/drug abuse. Finally, after suffering for two years by myself, I was labeled as clinically depressed. It didn’t feel as comforting or relieving as I had hoped. In fact, I felt no different then I had a few nights earlier when there was more blood then tears. I was given a prescription and pointed in the direction of a therapist, but that was all the specialist could do. I used the prescription as directed for about 6 months as well as going to a therapist which was one of the best things I’ve ever done(I suggest therapy to anyone I run across who is having trouble, the opportunity to speak uninhibited is unbelievable comforting). I stopped taking the medication without telling anyone which, thinking back, was an incredibly stupid idea, though I had my reasons. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. Sure I wasn’t as depressed, but I certainly wasn’t happy. The medication dulled all of my senses instead of dulling my depression. I would rather have the chance to be happy and depressed then be a bland person without emotions. A few days ago it was the anniversary of that fateful night, and it passed without notice, which was a stupendous step forward for me. It may be because of my concussion, or my development as a person, but I’m forgetting who I used to be and moving on, albeit slowly, with my life.
So, to answer your questions. Who am I now? I don’t know. I’m not sure how to label myself and I’m not certain I want to. Why did I change? I didn’t really have an option. The night I cut myself, I had told someone I was friends with at the time that I didn’t see myself living to turn 20 years old. Ever since then I’ve just tried to keep my esteem and confidence up enough to stay alive. That sounds kind of extreme but it’s the only way I can explain it. I miss the way I was because I was able to write with my emphasis on emotion. Now, I feel like I still can but I don’t want to because most of my emotions remind me of that one moment in my past.
Also, to get back to this “I was the nice kind who just happened to actually be rather good at sports. That aspect hasn’t really changed but I’ll get to that later”. I don’t like saying I’m good at things, its just a pet peeve of mine. I prefer modesty even if I know otherwise. But since this is text and does not always elicit a response, I will say that I was actually rather good at baseball. My last season I batted .428, which is good. There really isn’t another word for it. I pitched well and could play 1st base as well as anyone else. I was talented and I enjoyed it. When I dislocated my shoulder, I lost all of that along with the thing that scheduled my entire life. Its part of what led up to my depression.

A Day Without Electronics, Mostly.

Essay 2, as promised(look at me keeping my promise and all that). This is a longer one. I don’t think it’s quite as good as the last post, but I’m still somewhat proud of it.

I’ve never really thought about all the time I spend dinking around with electronics throughout the day or even just the electronics I use everyday in an attempt to appear normal. I use my iPod on a fairly unprecedented scale, in my opinion at least. If it weren’t for teachers insisting on lectures then I’d probably only rarely take my headphones off. I counted once and discovered I use my iPod for about 5 hours minimum each weekday. Outside of that, I subscribe to Pandora which envelops another 2 hours a day or so, and then we can throw in the hour or so of YouTube videos I watch every day. That’s just music though, there are other ways I abuse electronics though they often overlap with music. At time of typing, I’m listening to my iPod, using my laptop (obviously) and habitually checking my phone every few minutes. One of these days I’m going to become a robot and I’ll be so happy you’d think I was programmed that way. But of course that’s not all I use in one day. I have my desktop PC at home which gets a regular use of over 6 hours a day as well as occasional use of the radio, T.V., Nook, Wii, and other excellent distractions. If I take a peek outside of entertainment I begin to feel a bit sick with my dependency. There’s the basic stuff; oven, microwave, fridge/freezer, heater, lights, fan, etc. I’m beginning to think I have a bit of a problem with electronics, they seem to have a hold on literally everything I do. I wake up to an alarm clock and I go to sleep with music from my iPod. During the day there are only a few seconds, yes seconds, that aren’t taken by electronics. Of course during those times the lights are still on and the room is either being heated or cooled. It’s seemingly impossible to escape from electronics in today’s society, though I felt it time to at least try to diminish my use. In essence, I was going to take a day off from electronics. Music is my crutch that quite literally gets me through the day on some occasions. I was forced to allow in some electronics though, or I wouldn’t be able to function at all. This has less to do with my personality and more to do with the fact that I have an electronic bus pass and I won’t wake up without an alarm. So, ignoring those two kinks in my plan, I strode forward with my plan. The day before I was going to set out with my experiment I went to the bank to get some cash so I could hopefully avoid using my debit card. I was already missing the music even though I was listening to my iPod at the time and still had a good 12 hours until I was to begin.

The Monday morning began like every other, with that fucking annoying buzzing that I want to strangle somehow. I chose Monday because I knew it was going to be dreadfully dull anyways, I might as well lump all the negativity I can into one day. I absolutely despise the sound that alarm clock makes, its like no other I’ve heard, though it certainly wakes me up. I fell to the floor and dragged myself to the shower as per usual, wary of what was to come. Once I was clean and nearly half awake I meandered back to my room and sat down. Usually I would waste ten minutes catching up on Facebook and YouTube but today I wouldn’t allow myself that luxury. Instead I opened up my small black book and wrote down a few chunks of ideas still hanging around from my dreams. I remembered a few things about a certain someone I had been meaning to write about, as well as a neat little idea to improve a scene I’d been working on for a while. I glanced at the alarm clock and realized I was a couple minutes behind my normal morning schedule so I begrudgingly began to dress and get ready for the rest of the day. Once packed and presentable I stumbled downstairs and yelled goodbye to the empty house (a habit of mine). I began my morning quarter mile walk to the bus stop instinctually reaching into my left pocket to pull out my iPod which was sadly vacant. I’d forgotten what I had set out to do already, but I was smart enough to predict my idiocy and left my iPod on the charger at home. Sighing deeply, I headed to Sorentos for some tea before my inevitably late bus. The walked seemed longer then normal, which I had sort of expected, but it was a fairly pleasant day out so I didn’t really mind listening to the few birds along the way. It’s strange to me that birds are so much more apparent when it is a nice day. I mean, I know they tend to stay out of the rain, but I still see them when it is raining, I just don’t hear them as much. After getting my Chai I trundled back along the path to the bus stop, stopping only once to pet a passing dog and her owner. Though it’s probably worth mentioning I only petted the dog, I simply said “Hello” to the owner. The next ten minutes or so were spent waiting for the bus as always, and this was the first time I really felt the annoyance of not having my iPod. I live on the outskirts of town so the bus stop is rather far from my house and not many people ride that bus. No one, in fact, was at the stop with me that Monday which made me feel rather lonely. Something I was certain I would feel much more of throughout the day. The bus finally rolled down the hill only 6 minutes late which admittedly wasn’t too bad but I was already in a fairly uneasy mood so I complained to myself. I got on, flashed my bus pass next to the reader and took a seat towards the back. I could hear the music from the kid sitting in front of me, just enough to know it was there but not enough to recognize the song, and I began to miss my iPod again. The bus ride was unexciting to say the least and certainly nothing extraordinary or eventful happened while riding it. I caught my transfer for the first time in a couple weeks and was slated to get to Bellevue with an hour to spare before class. Normally this would excite me, it would give me time to catch up on some homework or just goof around on my laptop but sadly this was not possible. I’d left my laptop at home to help stop myself from straying and I didn’t have any written homework to work on really. After about forty minutes on the bus, as we neared the school, I began to think up things to do while waiting for class to start.

I ended up spending most of the time sitting in one of the comfy chairs on campus, near the cafeteria, watching the people interact with each other. It was interesting for me to see what was normal while on campus for everyone else. Of course I’d seen this before but I’d always been distracted by my music or had my laptop handy to provide a quick spurt of entertainment. This time I only had my notebook to entertain myself with. I’d tried sketching some of the people around me but they would never hold still for very long, and I’m hardly good enough to sketch a person from memory. I gave up on that after fifteen minutes or so, lacking the inspiration to create my own idea of what to draw. I instead turned to writing again. I opened my little black book and looked over the notes I had left for myself in the morning, as well as some from a couple nights ago. The first one wasn’t much help “something about how unbearably pretty she is and music”. I decided for the fifth or so time that I wouldn’t leave myself notes like that in the middle of the night. I read over the rest but none of them felt important enough for me to elaborate on so I put that away too. I looked up at the clock which told me I had thirty minutes until class started. The people around me seemed fidgety for some reason, like they didn’t want to hang around for very long. I shared the feeling so I clambered out of the comfy chair and went outside to see if I could escape the the noises surrounding me. The sun was hidden behind seemingly the only cloud in the sky keeping me comfortably shaded as I strode out of the C building and headed towards a set of tables. Music started popping into my mind as I walked, trying to distract me and pass the time, but instead it reminded me of the iPod I no longer had. I sat down at the table and took my notebook out again thinking maybe I could get some writing done now that I had a new location. I actually managed to get a good chunk of a story I’d been thinking about down on paper which helped calm me down a bit. I spent much time working on that story, until I noticed a sudden increase in volume and quantity of people around me. Classes must have let out which meant I had about ten minutes to get to my room. I packed up once again and set off, making it with plenty of time to listen to everyone else in the classroom. Class progressed as per usual, I of course never use my iPod while in class so nothing was new to me in this regard, though that didn’t stop the class from dragging on and on. When our class finally finished I said goodbye to my project partner who I hadn’t yet spoken to and left in a flourish, hoping the faster I moved the faster the day would end.

I didn’t feel like the day was going miserably or anything, I just felt like something was missing, like an important aspect of my life was absent. I suppose this is a fairly obvious revelation as I was indeed missing something dearly important to me, but it didn’t shake the unnerving feeling of a deep absence. Admittedly music and therefore my iPod was what I missed the most, it was usually like a little bubble of protection, keeping the outside world away while my mind danced by itself. I thought this over while riding the bus home, it seemed a reasonable distraction and passed the time fairly well. I’ve always been a daydreamer, imagining future situations and how the recent past could have been different if I said just one out of the ordinary sentence. I imagined my classmates reaction if, for once, we struck up a conversation. I wondered what we would talk about, what we could talk about, and what their reaction to hearing my voice more than once a week would be. They didn’t seem to care in my mind, which is probably fairly accurate to the indifference they seem to emit. The bus pulled into Redmond and I reflected on how quickly the day seemed to be progressing all of the sudden. I just barely caught my transfer for once and was headed home much earlier then usual, perhaps a reward for my experiment. Though because I was on a new timetable thanks to the early bus there were people I’d never seen before aboard my usual route. Of course I paid them no attention, hoping my lack of headphones wouldn’t act as an invitation to a conversation.

I escaped the fifteen minute ride without so much as a hello, thankfully, and started my usual walk home. I quickly realized that this was the first time in probably two years that I’d made this walk without my iPod. It was an odd realization that really made me look at my daily routines and how similar every day seems to be. The only real differences being up to people other then me, everything I have control of seems to stay the same. I get out of bed at nearly the exact same time every day, drink the same tea every morning, ignore the same people on the bus, find a quiet chair to sit in while waiting for class, etc. There is very little change in my schedule from day to day and I, for a fleeting moment, thought that perhaps I should change that. I imagined a life in which people actively engaged me in conversation and looked forward to seeing me every day. It was of course just a dream, but someday I think it’s one I can make come true. My life has been so shut off from the outside world simply because I hide behind electronics and rush from dark corner to dark corner, avoiding others, it’s starting to become unhealthy. When a scientifically social creature shuns others and keeps to himself, he is seen as peculiar at best and outright uncomfortable at worst. I’ve recently been trying to reconcile my abandoned social personality in a way that’s somewhat comfortable to me but still progressive. It’s been slow but I’m starting to see progress in my ability to hold a conversation and live without my iPod. I still have it on me at all times, but I’m starting to prefer other people to the lyrics in my headphones.

Medicinal Music

I’m actually rather proud of this final product. I’ll post the other essays either tomorrow and Wednesday, or Wednesday and Friday.

N’Sync told us “Bye, bye, bye” as we played in the river and I told them “Yes please, do leave”. Which they kindly did a few years later. It was somewhat of a tradition of ours to loudly listen to Brick House by the Commodores when arriving at our of our All-Star games. That song has been buried in my mind in connection to a lot of lost friends and great baseball games. It’s a bit of a bittersweet memory. As I lost my ability to play baseball, I also lost many of my friends because baseball was our only connection, but I still remember all of our great games together. Even though it came out after we moved, “Blurry” by Puddle of Mudd became a sort of theme song for my childhood and pops up more often then any other song. It isn’t a song I listened to often or even liked very much but it seems to fit with my hazy memories.

I have a notoriously bad memory, so most of what I remember, I believe, is due to music and my ability to absorb sounds and never forget a song. You see, my memories without music start only a few years ago, probably five, due to a lovely little concussion. The one thing that survived my mind’s reboot was music and the specific memories attached to those songs. My strongest connection to my home and my childhood is music. Much of it is horrible music from the 90′s which are made infinitely better by the context of the events at the time. For example, I clearly remember climbing the tree in our backyard and while I picture that in my mind The Offspring explain to me their perfect day via One Fine Day. The tree was immense, in proportion, and we would spend hours in it devising plans for our epic tree fort which sadly never came to fruition. It seemed I spent more time above ground then on ground thanks to that tree and the red trampoline we eventually sold to a friend.

Not everything I remember was as large and obvious though. I remember our cobblestone driveway and how I would wonder why no one else in the neighborhood had cobblestone. I remember the house had an inconspicuous green door but after we left those bastards who moved in afterwords painted it red and paved over the driveway. They painted our door as if it were theirs as if it meant nothing to me. Of course I never got to know them, I never even spoke to them. Why would I want to when they are the sort of people who would willingly and probably excitedly, pay money to tear me from my childhood home. The gall they had to buy our house, my home, and change it to their liking always made me angry.

I mentioned the Commodores before because they were always present at an important baseball game, but they weren’t the only ones. Baseball has had almost as big an impact on my life as music and its not surprising that they connect in my mind sometimes. I played baseball for nearly 14 years, giving up on soccer and basketball to pursue it more aggressively. Towards the end of my career, when I was about 16, Three Days Grace became a common soundtrack to my rides to practice which was sometimes five days per week. Every game was important then, we were told people were starting to watch us and keep track of our progress. We grew out of the novelty of the Commodores and each had our own music to prepare us for the games. This was around the time my life started to turn downwards in the happiness scale everyone apparently has in their head. It felt like my whole life revolved around baseball and while I enjoyed playing it more then pretty much anything else, I also felt it as constricting me. Everyday after school I would be summoned to practice which often lasted over two hours. After practice I would just collapse at home and struggle through my homework, hoping we wouldn’t have many games during the weekend so I could play with my friends. I dislocated my shoulder for the first time when I was 17. It tore three ligaments, one of which snapped in half completely. Unfortunately it was my throwing arm, so I was almost instantly finished with baseball. All at once the thing that my life seemed to revolve around stopped and I had no idea what to fill the empty space with. When I think about what happened to my shoulder that first time, there is no music. All I can remember is the horrible helplessness of an uncontrollable arm, it’s still something I’m desperately afraid of.

The second and third dislocations were less dramatic though plenty traumatizing, nothing really braces you for the sudden inaccessibility of a limb. Dislocation number two happened while I was swimming laps and certainly surprised me, as well as the other people trying to enjoy the pool. The third simply snuck up on my while I was sleeping. I woke up at four A.M. trying to understand why I was yelling. I quickly realized I wasn’t actually yelling, that was just the voice in my head expressing his confusion, so I remedied the situation by letting out a howl and heading to the hospital. I think being torn from baseball, essentially my life, in one quick moment was incredibly hard for me. Even though I was starting to lose the enjoyment of playing, I still wanted to have the opportunity. I faintly remember waking up in the hospital for the third time. I was groggy due to the drugs and everyone around me was laughing because I was apparently telling stories while my conscious mind was shut down. It’s hard to explain but I felt like I heard music, though I’m certain there wasn’t any playing. I wasn’t sober enough to be playing music in my head, yet I felt the Red Hot Chili Peppers in my mind and I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason I can recall that event. I can’t remember waking up either of the other times I went to the hospital.

I’ve changed so much since I lived in our old house and had my accidents that I use the few memories I have as a way to learn from myself. When I lived there I was active in three sports, I had more friends then I knew what to do with, and I was a generally happy kid. Now I no longer have the ability to play two of those sports and I have no desire to play the third. I have four friends, though I couldn’t possibly ask for better ones, and I rarely talk to anyone else. I was diagnosed with depression a couple of years ago, whatever that means, and have learned to deal with it. The only thing that has stuck with my through the years is music which has always acted as my conduit to anything outside of my comfort zone. I start conversations through music and avoid them the same way. It helps me remember who I was and in many ways shapes the way I will be in the future. My connection to music began when I was a child in my home and music hasn’t been turned off since.

What to do…

I’ve been wanting to post something for a while but I don’t really have anything to say. I’m working on a couple essays that I will post here when I’ve finished, so probably within the week, but I felt I should update this before then. One of the essays is a sort of terrible review of Spirited Away, and another is a rushed look at my daily life without electronics. Which turns out to be unsurprisingly boring and extremely exciting to read, I’m sure. Honestly though, the only thing to change over the past few weeks is my bus schedule. It was moved up four minutes for my ride home. Holy hell how will I cope with that? I’ve been looking for jobs when I’ve had some time. There is a small coffee shop by my house that I’m going to apply at. I visit there pretty much every day so they know me fairly well. It always looks like they need a little help too. The owner is always there, sometimes alone, working the register. I don’t especially like dealing with people I don’t know, but this could be a good way for me to try something new I suppose. I’ll let you know how it turns out. Anyways, back to studying for finals and daydreaming about… other things.

 

-attle

Memories from home.

Here it finally is. In it’s primarily unedited, attenuated form.

N’Sync told us “Bye, bye, bye” as we played in the river and I told them yes please, do leave. Which they kindly did a few years later. It was somewhat of a tradition of ours to loudly listen to Brick House by the Commodores when arriving at our of our All-Star games. That song has been buried in my mind in connection to a lot of lost friends and great baseball games. It’s a bit of a bittersweet memory. As I lost my ability to play baseball I also lost many of my friends because baseball was out only connection, but I stil remember all of our great games together. Even though it came out after we moved, Blurry by Puddle of Mudd became a sort of theme song for my childhood and pops up more often then any other song. It isn’t a song I listened to often or even liked very much but it seems to fit with my hazy memories.

I have a notoriously bad memory so most of what I remember, I believe, is due to music and my ability to absorb sounds and never forget a song. You see, my memories without music start only a few years ago, probably five, due to a lovely little concussion. The one thing that survived my mind’s reboot was music and the specific memories attached to those songs. My strongest connection to my home and my childhood is music. Much of it is horrible music from the 90′s which are made infinitely better by the context of the events at the time. For example, I clearly remember climbing the tree in our backyard and while I picture that in my mind The Offspring explain to me their perfect day via One Fine Day. The tree was immense, in proportion, and we would spend hours in it devising plans for our epic tree fort which sadly never came to fruition. It seemed I spent more time above ground then on ground thanks to that tree and the red trampoline we eventually sold to a friend.

Not everything I remember was as large and obvious though. I remember our cobblestone driveway and how I would wonder why no one else in the neighborhood had cobblestone. I remember the house had an inconspicuous green door but after we left those bastards who moved in afterwords painted it red and paved over the driveway. They painted our door as if it were theirs as if it meant nothing to me. Of course I never got to know them, I never even spoke to them. Why would I want to when they are the sort of people who would willingly and probably excitedly, pay money to tear me from my childhood home. The gall they had to buy our house, my home, and change it to their liking always made me angry.

Our house was large by most standards but I couldn’t recognize that when I was young. I was born in that house and my friends had houses of about the same time, everything about it seemed normal to me. Now that I have been torn from my home and thrust into a small apartment I can see what I had before. There were rooms we never used and we even had a room with the obnoxiousness to call itself a bonus room, as if we didn’t have enough space. Looking back I can see that we were pretty well off, but that isn’t what made my house special. It was a place I could run off to if anything was wrong, where I could bring my friends and be certain we would have a good time, and it was where I could be assured I would be safe and be able to sleep through the night.

I’ve changed so much since I lived in that house that I use the few memories I have as a way to learn from myself. When I lived there I was active in three sports, I had more friends then I knew what to do with, and I was a generally happy kid. Now I no longer have the ability to play two of those sports and I have no desire to play the third, I have four friends and rarely talk to anyone else, and I was diagnosed with depression a couple of years ago, whatever that means. The only thing that has stuck with my through the years is music which has always acted as my conduit to anything outside of my comfort zone. I start conversations through music and avoid them the same way. It helps me remember who I was and in many ways shapes the way I will be in the future. My connection to music began when I was a child in my home and music hasn’t been turned off since.

Your input is, of course, welcomed excitedly.

attle.