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 from 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.

Advertisements

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?

East Lake Sketches

I went camping last week at East Lake, Oregon for a few days, and drew a couple of things, including my various family members. Being able to relax and not worry about DUMB ADULT THINGS was great, and I was actually able to do some writing as well as drawing, and I read almost the entirety of the book The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls. It’s great to be able to get some reading done! A good writer also has to be a good reader! And Jeannette has kinda motivated me to want to be more gung-ho about my living situation, but at the same time she’s made me feel like a crappy whiny baby for letting depression dominate my whole life, instead of being a kickass person who can actually fix things for themselves. Ack. 

As soon as I was back home, the motivation to create disappeared almost instantaneously, and I reverted back to my videogame escapism. Proof that this apartment is a bubble of soul sucking negativity, and its not just me. Only now am I motivated enough to even update my blog by just posting pictures. But yay, I’ll take what I can get. 

People Doodles #5

Went to a BBQ for the Fourth of July that had a whole bunch of people attending. Met some new people who probably won’t bother remembering my name, hah. 

When I was doodling, people would avoid looking at me. For some reason drawing at a public event is weird or something. People don’t like it. They pretend it’s not happening and ignore you if you do that, but they’ll glance at you sideways with that look that says “someone is being weird”. But some people ignored what I was doing while still chatting with me. By contrast if I were doodling ALONE in the park (not part of a group) or at a coffee shop or somewhere, people will approach me and ask me about my drawings and drawing aspirations. Or just smile pleasantly with silent approval. It’s a strange dynamic going on here. 

It’s also funny that people think other people don’t see when they give them the “that’s a weirdo” look and act nonchalant like they didn’t even notice you’re a weirdo. Like, just because I’m weird doesn’t mean I am blind to facial expressions hahah. But I guess they just can’t help it. 

Lifey Bit #7: Fuck you, I Love you

<Previous Lifey Bit>

I was sitting in my apartment, playing Skyrim, when I was shocked by a woman screaming from outside.

It is not particularly strange to hear the insane screeching of a madwoman in the great and weird city of Portland. I went to the balcony, to investigate, make sure it was nothing serious. I heard her scream, “let me out!” repeatedly; I was worried. The sky was still a dark blue with the near-gone sunlight of the late afternoon. There were hardly any cars on the street, just a bus stopped at the crosswalk. The screeching was clear and loud, as if it was right in front of me, but I saw no one screaming. Only a couple of my neighbors standing on the sidewalk all staring off in the same direction, wondering if it was serious or just some random craziness (99% of the time it’s the latter); one guy had his phone ready in his hand.

Then I saw the woman appear from behind the bus and quickly make her way across the street. She seemed young. She was white and had long black hair and wore a pink sweater. She shrieked, bloodcurdlingly loud, like a banshee, projected across the parking lot and street as clear as day. But she wasn’t running, nor were there any other people near her, or cars, no apparent dangers. The first assumption is drugs, but who knows. In between incoherence, a shrieked “fuck you!” and “I need you!” and “I love you!” pierced the air. It was haunting…creepy, it didn’t quite echo but felt as if the sound came from everywhere. It was also curious. How could someone scream ‘fuck you’ and ‘I love you’ in one motion? Thinking of the possibility she wasn’t on drugs, made it sad…but also even more creepy. I like to imagine the circumstances behind anyone stringing these words together in terrifying shrieks in near-public. If I were closer, would I have been able to see that she was crying?

The neighbors dispersed once they began hearing the ‘fuck you, I love yous’. Curse words immediately quell the sense of emergency of a scream in the city. But I was a bit entranced. It’s not often one gets to freely hear a woman’s shrieks echoing ominously throughout the silent night world, like an angered wraith in a cemetery…not without being able to just listen to it anyway (rather than making for the 911 buttons and bolting out the door to the rescue).

The enchantment was broken when a man yelled “Hey! Shut the fuck up!”