Derek from Third Grade

I had a dream about Derek from third grade where we were adults and hanging out and eventually I just grabbed his face and kissed him for like no reason. A dude rom third grade! When I wasn’t even thinking about boys, other than as playmates I could punch sometimes! Like why this person?!

Kinda makes me wonder though; how differently would my life have gone if my family had stayed in Boise, how differently if we stayed in Garden City, or Caldwell, or I stayed in that dorm at PSU longer. If both Derek and I grew up in the same vicinity, would we have eventually dated?!

If life events had enfolded differently, who would be my friend group right now? Or back then? What other people would I have met? How would those connections effect where I went to college or moved to on my own or what jobs I got?

It just makes me think how easy it is for things to change, how flimsy life plans are, and how we are today is just the accumulation of every small moment in our life and the people we ever knew who pushed us further or closer to/from our interests and talents. As an adult, there is more control over who your friends are and where you spend all your time, but as a kid everyone you know is just who you happen to bonk into, and friends are the ones you bonked into more often. What street you lived on and what school and church you went to and what after school thing you were apart of and all the people who got you involved in other places; birthday parties, concerts, recitals, book club, baseball fields. All this bonking around, and whose bonks where had the most effect.

Derek was one of my closest friends in elementary school and I’ve mostly hung out with guys as friends my whole life. Most of my friends in school I met through band in middle school and because I played wind (trumpet players all have cooties). Others I met through being videogames or through mutual loathing of our professor or because someone noticed my Kagome pin. In Idaho, wanted to go to college where all my friends were going, I didn’t care about if it was a good school or not. I moved to Portland halfway through high school, to an Art Academy that didn’t have band in ANY way, shape, or form and lost the time and motivation to play my saxophone. I hated everyone at RAA except a few people and focused on art and writing. I dated douchebags in college, but would the douchebags at BSU or UofI be any different? Would they have traumatised me in the same ways, or not at all? Would I be a plump matron with 3 monkey kids hanging from my arms by now? How different would those past years had gone if my parents had never encouraged me to pick up an instrument or Dad had never gotten me Frogger on PlayStation or had disciplined me more severely when I drew them that beautiful mural on the hallway wall as a kid? And if we hadn’t moved to another state in the middle of high school and I could have actually continue playing sax? What if I was still in Boise for middle school and my friends called band stupid and I never even went for it? Would I have gone to UofI for college instead of PSU? Maybe gone out of state? If my siblings had never been born and my parents actually had money, where would I use that leverage? If I was pushed toward my passion for video games, would I be a making my own games by now? What if I hadn’t moved to Portland? Would I still be devoted to my saxophone or just as meh about it as I am now? Would I have lived in a dorm in a small college town, rather than in the downtown area of a city, having wild dorm parties because theres nothing to do, instead of going on art walks? Would any of these things make a speck of difference anyway? Is there a timeline out there where I am currently married to Derek from third grade with monkeys on my arms?! Think of all the tiny things that could be different about me just because of the all the pushes I got.

Life is like infinite domino effects, the pieces bonk into each other and they fall over and bonk others, and some fall where you think they will, and others fall a little wonkily, and sometimes a domino misses, or just nudge, and maybe a piece flies off the pattern, just all this bonking and pushing in all these crazy directions.

Stupid Derek making me get all thinky about stuff. This just makes me want to message old friends and get a new sax. Now, if I actually go and DO these things, how will life fork from there?! Will I join a jazz band a year from now? Am I gonna reconnect with someone from the past and end up in a business relationship?! WHAT WILL HAPPEN?!

Not that any of the speculation matters, anyhow.

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Limbo

Caged
Again
soul taken away
siphoned off
before I could
even remember
what it was like
to have one

 

Stolen
Drained away
this cursed monolith
of human shape
always shadowing
even when far away
now again, after
I had found my soul

 

Devil
who looks when looking away
eats souls
in exchange for life
while spewing
hexed words
to taint all hearts
under his shadow

 

Locked away
in a certain Limbo
beneath the dark
grip which needs
it for its nourishment
its own salvation
keeps me again
but not much longer

 

Hope,
An Opening
I’ll fly away
when the key turns
and the door opens
he will watch
as I leave
while I never
look back

 

to Throw Away
all I have known
shadows rooted in my heart
wrenched out
light switched on
against my darkened eyes
it hurts
but thankfully
But only at first.

 


Something weird was going on with spacing on WordPress, so someone please tell me if there’s too much space or weird html showing up because things aren’t adding up on my side. X(

Grief

Grief
is a vault.
ashes in the wall.
Treasures
too precious
too pristine
to touch

Safe,
away,
lost.
Far,
far away
out of sight
out of mind.

I build shrines
in my heart
to remember.
shrines with no names.
Candles burning
in celebration
to the lack of memory
of love,
of guilt,
of why
why
why?

why?

They topple down
cascading
reminding
why
echoes
tremors
the shrines
my heart
destroyed

forever

voices
telling me
why
why it happened
why they’re gone
why my heart
is cleaved
A script
rerunning
through my all
the why’s
Why,
why
why?

A figment,
to be sure,
But the only
the only
the only sign
that I get.

The ghosts
who never were
wish to be

and I hear them

beyond this bubble.
comes muffled dins
knocking
at the edge
echoing
sound and soundless
a constant noise
distant
“remember,
remember”
Ignored by all

but me.

Bulletproof Glass

Words hang between
us like glass
about to shatter
Once touched
they fall
flat, a din
sad sound
with an edge
thick
in the throat.

I heard crying
but felt nothing
I feigned sleep.
It’s not my place
any longer.

It’s nice
to read back
over old stories
but your chapters
are over
and I’m writing new ones
without you.

The cracks
you made
are gone
from my skin
and now I
am bulletproof.

Lake Washington Sketches

I am in Seattle for the weekend to attend the Penny Arcade Expo on Monday. I’m staying in a nice air b&b in the suburbs, a swanky renovated basement where the owner is right above us and keeping their distance. Can’t see the Space Needle from our house, but its like two blocks from Lake Washington. Its nice and sunny up here, and not all smokey and on fire, like Oregon is right now. 

Alex and I went on a walk to Matthew’s Beach to check out the lake. I did some people doodles, yay! And also took a bunch of pictures. Then we took a loooooong walk to QFC for toilet paper and almond milk because there wasn’t a bus to take! Exercise!! The rest of today is dedicated to WiiU and beer, but tomorrow we will be wandering the streets of downtown Seattle all day. Woot.

Hate

Hate seems like a strong concept. Too strong of one to be taken lightly. A profound concept that is not given to us unless it is really and truly deserved. Not a word to just be thrown around. It requires appropriate understanding and energy to keep and develope it. I don’t think there is a single person on this planet that I dislike enough to say I “hate” them. Even the people who have fucked me up and gave me mental disorders and ruined my life. These people, I want to kill them and cut their faces off in anger and then hang them on the wall like a trophy collection in a dark room that only I know about, but I don’t “hate” them. At least, I don’t think I do. They say when you’re in love, you just know. If I truly hated them, wouldn’t I just know it?

They say love and hate come from the same place in the heart, and are sometimes confused for each other. Am I waiting for that one special person to hate with all my being? Will it be hate at first sight? Will I still want to cut their face off? What does it take to hate someone at all? I’m pretty sure I’m not confusing love with hate when it comes to E. Evidently being given some PTSD isn’t enough for me to hate, but perhaps, if it were a LOT of PTSD I would feel differently. How will I know when its hate? True hate?

When will I meet my Soul Hate?