So, today was the last day of high school. It's funny, a lot of the people I see are either strongly for or strongly against the last day. Those for it are, obviously, ready to get the hell out of there, and those against it are going to miss it all. They're going to miss their friends, some of their teachers, the school. Those people feel strongly about it, whether pro or against, but then there's a smaller group who don't feel strongly one way or another. Let's break it down a little bit further, though: There's a subgroup of those who don't care: Those who rarely care about much, and those who are trying pretty hard to care, but failing.
I'm really.. I don't know how to put it. When a friend of mine moves away, I write them a letter. I get them something to remember where they moved from. I give them something of mine in order to remember me. Ritual doesn't seem to be the right word, but it's sort of true. I have movements to go through, little spiritual things. This is really hard for me to put into words, and I don't know whether to blame the fact that I haven't written in a while, or if it's just *that* obscure of a thing. It's deep in my mind, and it's gotta be something subconscious since it affects a lot of my thinking. Let's back it up, I'll give some examples.
A friend of mine moved last year. John and I were pretty damn close, so it stung to see him go. But, before he went, I gave him a copy of my favorite book, wrote him a letter, all that. I couldn't just say "Goodbye" to him, and walk away. I took him aside, told him I believed in him as a person, and it was true. I don't know what he took from it. This is my doubt talking, but maybe he took it as an awkward gesture, and it looms over his memory of me. I don't know why, some people take personal things like that as an awkward thing. I had to do it, though. I've moved too many times, closed off too many friendships with a handshake and a "Seeya" to let these go on without some formality. Maybe it's something of a longing for the same. I don't know, usually I'm the one giving a heartfelt farewell, never much one to receive. That's fine, I guess.
No, it's not. That's the root of it all. This isn't a rant, though. I'm not condemning every person I know because they didn't send me on my way with a great farewell. I'm not mad at anyone, but the fact that usually it's so simple for others to say goodbye is what fuels me to make sure there's nothing I regret.
I try to make it so that I don't regret a thing. The reason why I do this is because there's so much I used to regret. When I moved from Michigan, I never spent much time with my friends there. I did this for no reason at all. I've hated myself enough for it, I don't any more, but I was foolish at the time. I had one last summer with my best friend, and I blew it. I could've spent every day with him and my other friends if I wanted to, but instead we hung out only once or twice. I spent the last day in Michigan with people who were small friends, I think it was August 17th, and the next time I saw Dan was November 4th. I didn't even see him in August, I saw him in July- I think. I regretted that for almost four months, then another nine.
That's why I spend so much time with Alyssa now. Every day I'm with her, so that I won't ever regret not seeing her. I won't be able to.
This ties into the High School thing, I promise.
The thing is, I've tried to spend more time with my other friends, but around January I stopped trying. It was a trust issue. I trust Dan with my life, and that's not put lightly. This isn't a blog post dedicated to talking about what an awesome person he is, but he's my example of someone I can always trust to be there, to confide in, and all that. He's got my back. My friends here... they don't. They never have, or at least it was never mutual. I was too used to confiding in people, letting them know my problems, and expecting them to be strong back. That was probably my own fault, not every one can be trusted, but everyone's a naive teenager at one point in their lives. Everyone's allowed to be a fool.
Now, this post also isn't the equivalent of me tearing up the pictures of my friends, or cutting them out of pictures of us. That doesn't mean we're cool, either. I've got to get it out somehow, and this is how. I'll try to keep my cool, since I'm not angry now, and any sort of rage at them would really make this look like an angsty complaint instead of a factual declaration.
Regardless, here it goes. I gave up on almost everyone I knew here once before, back in January of 2007. I'd said in the other post how John took precedence over them all, and he definitely had. John's gone, though, so I had to go back to my friends. That's alright, I could tolerate them, only one of them had really gone against me, behind my back. The others I just didn't quite care for at the time. I bet they didn't care for me, either, so both parties win.
There's something about the winter months that really bring loyalties to the surface. I keep throwing around the idea to include a backstory to this, but anyone who cares to read this probably knows it. If they don't, you're Dan, or I don't want to tell you. Let's jump to the juicy stuff. My friends sold me out, then turned coat when it seemed most humorous to them. I consider myself a fairly nice person. I'm an asshole to everyone I dislike, but only if within the last few days they had been deserving of it. My friends, on the other hand, I can treat like kings. I invest my feelings and trust into them. I was so wrong, and I guess I'm even beyond that.
The point is that I'm done with them. I decided this back in January, Fen decided it for me. Trust in a strong alter-ego that doesn't exist. I swear that I'm not crazy. I won't talk to any of my friends from highschool after the fourteenth, I don't think. I don't want to. I put up with them for six months in order to make it as smooth of a transition as possible, but now I don't need to. I'm done with school, and done with them. I can start over again, as I've done three other times in my life. They're a chapter in my life, and I'm on the last few pages.
I promised that this would tie into High School, and my lack of care when graduation comes into play. When I lived in Michigan, High School was intense. It was every range of emotions that a teenager needs to go through. I had loyal friends, intense rivals, people I hated, people that hated me, and every flavor of ally and enemy in between. I had emotional investment, because I had memories. Both strong, happy memories, and sad memories.
If I had gone to Hackett for four years, I'd be doing one of two things. I'd be hanging out with Dan and probably a few other friends, probably sitting in a car somewhere, watching the sun set. We'd go to someone's house, watch a movie, lightsaber fight, whatever. It'd be sealed off with good memories. If that didn't happen, I'd be sitting in my room, alone, angry at myself for not letting it happen, and probably crying.
Here, I'm writing a blog post. I tried to see some of my friends tonight, plans fell through, and people I'd rather avoid were present. I was angry at first, I wanted to go there and personally beat the shit out of the person I'd hated. The opportunity existed, he was out of school, I'd simply go there and do the deed. I was even near the person's house. Wait, my friends were there, but whose side could I count on them to be on? Would anyone back me up? Would they turn on me? Angry one moment, introspective the next. I wouldn't let it happen, though. I wouldn't brood because of it. That kid had caused me to be angry far too many times, and I've wasted countless hours on thoughts better spent on *anything* else. I threw on uncharacteristically uplifting music, kicked the car to life, and drove home with a smile on my face.
What was I expecting, anyway? To drive around with my friends here, watch suns set with them? Would we kick back and watch the stars turn in the sky, watch favorite movies, indulge in swordfighting? No, they'd complain about nothing to do, they'd see nothing deeper, nothing spiritual about it being a goodbye. They'd shake my hand and say goodbye, but only if I stuck my hand out first. This was just a continuing theme of the last three years, and I was somewhat foolish to expect different. Oh well, Fen, that's one more mistake to take.
I won't miss High School here. It was a forced dance for me, I simply went through the movements, waiting patiently for the song to end. I have no striking memories with my friends. All of the joy, anger, and sadness that I experienced in Michigan seems to have taken a back-seat here. My happiness happens when I'm not in school- when I'm with Alyssa. I don't feel happy with my friends here, and after Graduation day I won't have to lie to myself and use the word "friend".
So, what's going to happen to me? That's the next chapter in my book. I've plenty of pages, and endless ink. Is my wrist sore yet? Maybe, but if I stop scribbling these chapters, I'll regret it. I can't live for regrets. I live for moments like tonight, hair swirling behind me as I head home with a sly grin.
I can't believe what I've become.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Thursday, May 15, 2008
It's just another Saturday
It's that time again. Another year, another May 16th, and what's changed? Almost everything, I guess, and what better time to reflect on all of these changes than my own personal holiday.
Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself, let's back it up a little bit with some background. May 16th is a holiday that's based purely around paranormal coincidence and self-promotion. It started for me back in 2005, on that May 16th. There's a song by Lagwagon, entitled "May 16th". I love that song, and I loved it just as much back then. One day, I'd decided to send it to my (then and current) best friend, a one Daniel Elmblad. I'd sent it to him, he quite enjoyed it, but was pretty puzzled about something a few days later: He had no idea what the title of the song was.You see, he thought the song was simply labeled the date that I had sent it to him. I was just as confused, asking his meaning. After some speculation, I realized that I had unknowingly sent him May 16th on May 16th. Cue the silence of two teenagers witnessing some paranormal happening. I guess that silence has sort of carried on ever since.
We started looking deeper into this, and developed some sort of mythology to the date. It'd pop up in random places, we'd always find little connections to the date and interests of ours. We had no idea what we were doing, or looking for, but we had to seek out all of the references to this haunting date. The two of us had built the day into a legend in our own minds, each of us counting the days until the next May 16th, when the magic would occur again. Each of us have our own little traditions, but every May 16th at 12:01 am, I like to snap a picture of myself by my clock-radio, burn some Super Hit incense, and (of course) listen to the song.
2006
2007
2008 So, how have I changed? Well, just going by the obvious in those pictures, from 2006 to 2007 I had lost about 70 pounds (lost in January to May of that year), I had let my hair grow longer, and decided to put on my necklace 24/7. You can't see it in the last picture, but it's there, and has been since around February of 2007.
Man, this feels like I'm writing a fucking history paper, forget the biographical approach, let's talk about feelings.
I love this day, so much that I struggle to put it into words. It unifies me, and really helps me look back upon what I've done in the past year. It's self-evaluation, reflection, and more. I can look back on myself and see how I've improved, and I can gladly say that each year since 2005's first May 16th, I've improved myself. Physically is obvious, but let's delve deeper. Emotionally, mentally, creatively, the actual stuff that matters. That's part of what this day is, a guaranteed day to stay true to myself.
This is going to sound awfully brooding, but I'm so far beyond caring that it's almost pointless to bring this sentence up. Oh well, had to throw a disclaimer in there.
The thing is, there's a way to chart how I've changed, and if I look far enough back on that chart, I can also see the root cause of why I needed to change. I moved from Michigan to Pennsylvania in August of 2005, and left behind my best friend. I had friends in Michigan, but none I could relate to, and none who understood me. Fate has a wonderful sense of humor, and a scarce six months after I'd met Dan, I had to move away. Damn. So, there I am, thrust into this new place, completely without friends. This was made worse by having to deal with people whose sole purpose seemed to revolve around making my time worse. I... think I can look back and say I had some form of depression. That's really the only way to put it.
I thought about a lot of stuff in 2006. No, not suicide, I wasn't that depressed. But, I started to hate a lot of things. What a brooding teenager, I know. It got to the point where I started to wish for the absence of people. If I could live my life without having to deal with anything, anyone, it'd be incredible. Not only because I'd not have to deal with the idiots of the world, but because it would be interesting. I spent so much time by myself, thinking, that it was actually awkward for me to socialize with people.
I enjoyed being alone in my room, listening to calming music, provoking deep thoughts in the electric-blue glow of my black-lights and other lamps. This wasn't a case of 'no one understands me', really, more of 'no one I know has the ability to comprehend what I'm thinking about'. That sounds terribly egotistical, that I was on some pedestal of thought and philosophy that no one else could ascend to, but based on the people I encountered, it was also quite true.
So that's how I spent my 2005-2006 school year. I would go home on the weekends and think. I had a job from December to May, and it involved working from 6 am to 1pm on the weekends. I had no time to spend nights at my meager handful of friends' houses. I only had time to think, really. Even after I quit the job, I refused to socialize as much. I would think about everything. By the summer of 2006, I was perfectly content with my own mortality. I'd worked out the intricacies of death out in my mind, imagined every single possibility and outcome, and was finally comfortable with the fact that one day I would die. I'd thought about other things, ideas for novels, the immensity of the universe, the inconsequential impact of our world on the grand, galactic scheme of things, stuff like that. I'd think about being alone, and thriving on that independence.
When summer came, I wanted to be alone so bad that I reversed my sleep schedule. Every day (night, rather), I'd wake up at 8 pm. From then I'd see my family a few times, and just go about my business until about midnight. From then on, I'd be in my room, doing anything for hours. It was nice, that solitude. I'd not worry about seeing anyone that I did not want to. At four AM, you're alone in the world. No one is outside, your neighbor's lights are all out, and if you think about it the right way, you can easily be a solitary kid in a blue-glowing room on the edge of oblivion.
I had two friends during that period: My cousin, whom I'd talk to until about 2 am, when he'd head to sleep, and the man who delivered my papers at 3:30 am. Granted, myself and the paper-man never exchanged words, but the low rumble of his car followed by the thwack of the paper hitting my driveway was all the conversation we needed. I'm sure he'd glance up at my window and think it odd that someone be up at 3:30, judging by the lights.
I tried to open up after that summer, I really did.
2006-2007 school year.. I'm really trying to remember the beginning of it. I was more pompous than ever, and I'd argue anyone to death just to prove that I was smarter and better at arguing than they were. During the fall I distanced myself from my friends, and that winter I cut myself off completely. So much for being more open. I grew closer to a friend, John Gregory, whom I'd met the year before but never really got to know. He was my resident best-friend, and I spent most of my time talking with him.
This was also around the time I decided that I was tired of being overweight and ugly, and as such decided to kick myself into gear. I had one motivator, that was it. Every time my muscles ached from a workout, or my resolve wavered, I thought of this one thing, and it all faded.
I enjoy fencing, sword-fighting, and all that. Dan and I would do it all the time, using Boken, actual swords, or lightsaber replicas (the two of us being die-hard Star Wars nerds). I had wanted to be in shape so that when I went to Dan's house that summer, I could really deliver a badass sword-fight that I'd remember for quite some time. So, I worked out for five months, lost about 70 pounds, and just started gaining confidence in myself. I had none at the time, and hadn't had any since Michigan, due to people not worth naming giving me trouble.
Regardless, back to the story. All winter and spring I spent my days working out, hanging out with John, but thinking (and writing) less. I was more social, more focused, and I didn't need to sit around in my dark room and contemplate mysteries. John understood me, and that's all I needed in a friend (unfortunate that it's also an unbelievably rare quality in a friend, I've found four people in my life who I can say possess it). I said it earlier, I'll say it again: fate has an awful sense of humor. John had to move that summer, and once again I was without a best friend.
Fall of 2007 now, I'd met a girl that I had liked, and after building up what small confidence I could muster, decided to ask her out. Six and a half months later, Alyssa and I are still going strong, and she's one of those four I had mentioned who understand me. I love her to death, and she makes each one of my days better.
I strayed back onto the path of biography, but I figured I'd give anyone who cares to read this a glance into my being. Then again, I don't expect many to read this, and please don't take that as me fishing for people to view this. I honestly don't expect anyone to really read this novel of a post, but I need to get this out of me somehow.
May 16th this year is the one I'm using to reflect on the past four years of my life. If I had to summarize the years they represented, I guess I'd do it like this. 2005, in one word, was Isolation. 2006 was Discovery. 2007 was Realization, and 2008.. what should I summarize this year with? It's not even halfway over. I'll leave that one up in the air.
The Isolation should be obvious, I hated a lot of things that year, and wanted nothing to do with them.
Discovery related to how I explored myself though 2006, and sort of pushed my creative boundaries through writing, thought, and art.
Realization was myself becoming who I always envisioned myself to be. No one in their mind's eye shows themselves as an unattractive, overweight person with no friends. I was Fenlain Almasy in my mind, and still when I talk to myself, I call myself Fen. I was more confident, more respected, better looking, better built, and just stronger of a person. Like.. some hero character out of a novel, or something. Nothing over-the-top, no superhero characteristics, just something I wanted to be but seemingly never could be. In 2007 I realized my ambition.
Wow, I've said a lot, and I need to really think as to whether or not I have more to say.
On my Facebook, I changed my display picture to myself sitting at a firepit. I discovered the thing down in the woods behind my house last spring, with John. He and I decided to have a campfire one day, and after some setbacks, it was he, Dan, his little brother, and I at the fire. The four of us had a blast, just four friends (His younger brother Matt wasn't too bad of a guy) sitting around a fire, oblivious to the world, having a blast. That pit is important to me. It's in a beautiful area, and I've put a fair amount of effort into enhancing the thing, but the true beauty of it just comes from the stories swapped around it, the company kept around those flames.
If I had a camera with me at all times of my life, I would've shot a series of pictures at that fire pit. The first picture would be Dan, Matt, John and I sitting around the blaze, alternating betwen throwing our heads back in laughter, and gesturing with our hands to convey some great story. The next picture would be John and I sitting there, still happy, but somewhat subdued since our company had lessened. Dan, after all, lives in Michigan. The third picture was the one I actually took, myself sitting alone at the pit, contemplating the stories told. John's gone, Dan's gone, but the stories remain. The experience remains.
That pit held the spirit of my friends, and it still does. I go down there sometimes to just feel those stones, to see if I can take some of the fire that my friends and I created, and keep it burning inside of me. It's intensely spiritual for me to go there, and I now treat the place with some reverence. This summer I plan to take Dan, Alyssa, and potentially Jared, my cousin, (if the timing lines up) down there, and renew the flames. Three of the four people who understand me present, and the fourth still heating the rocks, what else could I want in life?
Man, this feels like I'm writing a fucking history paper, forget the biographical approach, let's talk about feelings.
I love this day, so much that I struggle to put it into words. It unifies me, and really helps me look back upon what I've done in the past year. It's self-evaluation, reflection, and more. I can look back on myself and see how I've improved, and I can gladly say that each year since 2005's first May 16th, I've improved myself. Physically is obvious, but let's delve deeper. Emotionally, mentally, creatively, the actual stuff that matters. That's part of what this day is, a guaranteed day to stay true to myself.
This is going to sound awfully brooding, but I'm so far beyond caring that it's almost pointless to bring this sentence up. Oh well, had to throw a disclaimer in there.
The thing is, there's a way to chart how I've changed, and if I look far enough back on that chart, I can also see the root cause of why I needed to change. I moved from Michigan to Pennsylvania in August of 2005, and left behind my best friend. I had friends in Michigan, but none I could relate to, and none who understood me. Fate has a wonderful sense of humor, and a scarce six months after I'd met Dan, I had to move away. Damn. So, there I am, thrust into this new place, completely without friends. This was made worse by having to deal with people whose sole purpose seemed to revolve around making my time worse. I... think I can look back and say I had some form of depression. That's really the only way to put it.
I thought about a lot of stuff in 2006. No, not suicide, I wasn't that depressed. But, I started to hate a lot of things. What a brooding teenager, I know. It got to the point where I started to wish for the absence of people. If I could live my life without having to deal with anything, anyone, it'd be incredible. Not only because I'd not have to deal with the idiots of the world, but because it would be interesting. I spent so much time by myself, thinking, that it was actually awkward for me to socialize with people.
I enjoyed being alone in my room, listening to calming music, provoking deep thoughts in the electric-blue glow of my black-lights and other lamps. This wasn't a case of 'no one understands me', really, more of 'no one I know has the ability to comprehend what I'm thinking about'. That sounds terribly egotistical, that I was on some pedestal of thought and philosophy that no one else could ascend to, but based on the people I encountered, it was also quite true.
So that's how I spent my 2005-2006 school year. I would go home on the weekends and think. I had a job from December to May, and it involved working from 6 am to 1pm on the weekends. I had no time to spend nights at my meager handful of friends' houses. I only had time to think, really. Even after I quit the job, I refused to socialize as much. I would think about everything. By the summer of 2006, I was perfectly content with my own mortality. I'd worked out the intricacies of death out in my mind, imagined every single possibility and outcome, and was finally comfortable with the fact that one day I would die. I'd thought about other things, ideas for novels, the immensity of the universe, the inconsequential impact of our world on the grand, galactic scheme of things, stuff like that. I'd think about being alone, and thriving on that independence.
When summer came, I wanted to be alone so bad that I reversed my sleep schedule. Every day (night, rather), I'd wake up at 8 pm. From then I'd see my family a few times, and just go about my business until about midnight. From then on, I'd be in my room, doing anything for hours. It was nice, that solitude. I'd not worry about seeing anyone that I did not want to. At four AM, you're alone in the world. No one is outside, your neighbor's lights are all out, and if you think about it the right way, you can easily be a solitary kid in a blue-glowing room on the edge of oblivion.
I had two friends during that period: My cousin, whom I'd talk to until about 2 am, when he'd head to sleep, and the man who delivered my papers at 3:30 am. Granted, myself and the paper-man never exchanged words, but the low rumble of his car followed by the thwack of the paper hitting my driveway was all the conversation we needed. I'm sure he'd glance up at my window and think it odd that someone be up at 3:30, judging by the lights.
I tried to open up after that summer, I really did.
2006-2007 school year.. I'm really trying to remember the beginning of it. I was more pompous than ever, and I'd argue anyone to death just to prove that I was smarter and better at arguing than they were. During the fall I distanced myself from my friends, and that winter I cut myself off completely. So much for being more open. I grew closer to a friend, John Gregory, whom I'd met the year before but never really got to know. He was my resident best-friend, and I spent most of my time talking with him.
This was also around the time I decided that I was tired of being overweight and ugly, and as such decided to kick myself into gear. I had one motivator, that was it. Every time my muscles ached from a workout, or my resolve wavered, I thought of this one thing, and it all faded.
I enjoy fencing, sword-fighting, and all that. Dan and I would do it all the time, using Boken, actual swords, or lightsaber replicas (the two of us being die-hard Star Wars nerds). I had wanted to be in shape so that when I went to Dan's house that summer, I could really deliver a badass sword-fight that I'd remember for quite some time. So, I worked out for five months, lost about 70 pounds, and just started gaining confidence in myself. I had none at the time, and hadn't had any since Michigan, due to people not worth naming giving me trouble.
Regardless, back to the story. All winter and spring I spent my days working out, hanging out with John, but thinking (and writing) less. I was more social, more focused, and I didn't need to sit around in my dark room and contemplate mysteries. John understood me, and that's all I needed in a friend (unfortunate that it's also an unbelievably rare quality in a friend, I've found four people in my life who I can say possess it). I said it earlier, I'll say it again: fate has an awful sense of humor. John had to move that summer, and once again I was without a best friend.
Fall of 2007 now, I'd met a girl that I had liked, and after building up what small confidence I could muster, decided to ask her out. Six and a half months later, Alyssa and I are still going strong, and she's one of those four I had mentioned who understand me. I love her to death, and she makes each one of my days better.
I strayed back onto the path of biography, but I figured I'd give anyone who cares to read this a glance into my being. Then again, I don't expect many to read this, and please don't take that as me fishing for people to view this. I honestly don't expect anyone to really read this novel of a post, but I need to get this out of me somehow.
May 16th this year is the one I'm using to reflect on the past four years of my life. If I had to summarize the years they represented, I guess I'd do it like this. 2005, in one word, was Isolation. 2006 was Discovery. 2007 was Realization, and 2008.. what should I summarize this year with? It's not even halfway over. I'll leave that one up in the air.
The Isolation should be obvious, I hated a lot of things that year, and wanted nothing to do with them.
Discovery related to how I explored myself though 2006, and sort of pushed my creative boundaries through writing, thought, and art.
Realization was myself becoming who I always envisioned myself to be. No one in their mind's eye shows themselves as an unattractive, overweight person with no friends. I was Fenlain Almasy in my mind, and still when I talk to myself, I call myself Fen. I was more confident, more respected, better looking, better built, and just stronger of a person. Like.. some hero character out of a novel, or something. Nothing over-the-top, no superhero characteristics, just something I wanted to be but seemingly never could be. In 2007 I realized my ambition.
Wow, I've said a lot, and I need to really think as to whether or not I have more to say.
On my Facebook, I changed my display picture to myself sitting at a firepit. I discovered the thing down in the woods behind my house last spring, with John. He and I decided to have a campfire one day, and after some setbacks, it was he, Dan, his little brother, and I at the fire. The four of us had a blast, just four friends (His younger brother Matt wasn't too bad of a guy) sitting around a fire, oblivious to the world, having a blast. That pit is important to me. It's in a beautiful area, and I've put a fair amount of effort into enhancing the thing, but the true beauty of it just comes from the stories swapped around it, the company kept around those flames.
If I had a camera with me at all times of my life, I would've shot a series of pictures at that fire pit. The first picture would be Dan, Matt, John and I sitting around the blaze, alternating betwen throwing our heads back in laughter, and gesturing with our hands to convey some great story. The next picture would be John and I sitting there, still happy, but somewhat subdued since our company had lessened. Dan, after all, lives in Michigan. The third picture was the one I actually took, myself sitting alone at the pit, contemplating the stories told. John's gone, Dan's gone, but the stories remain. The experience remains.
That pit held the spirit of my friends, and it still does. I go down there sometimes to just feel those stones, to see if I can take some of the fire that my friends and I created, and keep it burning inside of me. It's intensely spiritual for me to go there, and I now treat the place with some reverence. This summer I plan to take Dan, Alyssa, and potentially Jared, my cousin, (if the timing lines up) down there, and renew the flames. Three of the four people who understand me present, and the fourth still heating the rocks, what else could I want in life?
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