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.


People Doodles #4

Doodled some people while waiting for a friend at the mall. Sat near the carousel so I could draw some children (and because its a PokeStop). I need to draw more children; they are difficult. Their body proportions are all off! Those heads! So big! And their parents dress them in such cute little outfits! Except I ended up drawing only a couple. Feels extra creepy drawing children when their parents catch me…

I couldn’t listen to my music, so I could hear some of the conversations between the kids and their parents. The way adults condescend children so brutally kind of upsets me. Adults talk to children as if they are pets: in a baby voice, or treating every word/action they say with “awws” without actually listening or watching, or issuing commands (“come here, boy!” “Stop doing that!”) without explaining things and getting mad when the children make loud noises, even just flat out ignoring them, staring at their phones. Children are people too! Just because they are naive and don’t know much about the world doesn’t mean they are stupid; not a sheep on a rope, not a kitten with a yarn ball. Why not be a decent person to the thing you’re supposed to be nurturing and educating? Okay, rant done.

<Previous People Doodles>

Lifey Bits #5

Previous bits this a way

The woman sitting directly behind me on the train is speaking fast on the phone in another language. Very loudly, right into my ear, making it easy for me to eavesdrop and analyze her syllables and see if I can understand what she’s talking about. I think it might be French, but I am unsure. The language sounds like bubbles blipping out from her mouth, popping into the air. She laughs occasionally, obviously a laugh, but a laugh in her language.

Eventually she pauses and says “Allo?…Allo?” And she stops. A few minutes later the tinkle of a cellphone chimes and she says “Allo?” again. She laughs and continues her fast bubbly language. I hear her say the name ‘David’ but she says it like ‘Da-veed’.

I wish I could speak every language.

Sitting on the lower part of the train, where the seats sit in a line with their backs against the windows, I get to watch as a team of three police officers suddenly board the MAX. With my headphones in, the swiveled glancing of my train-mates leads my eyes to them. The one apparently leading the group has the word SHERIFF stitched largely on his back in gold letters. Why is the sheriff checking out the train and not Trimet security?

He pauses as he first enters the train and looks around slowly at everyone, looking at each person’s face closely. He has a super douchy grin on his face. The type of smug, proud-and-pleased-with-himself smile of the always-looking-down-on. He is enjoying all of the eyes looking back at him, or making an obvious attempt to not look at him. The world stirs at his presence, and he is aware of it. He basks in it like a solar panel; he feeds on the curious and vehement vibes radiating from the people before him. I think he is trying to look kind with his smile, that’s why he shows it so brightly, but he just looks like a proud jock in high school who beat up the nerd and got away with it.

He walks his way through the center of the train, still looking at peoples faces as he goes. Looking back and forth from wall to wall. Reminds me of scenes in old Westerns where the sheriff walks into a saloon and eyeballs everyone. He’s chewing gum obnoxiously. That seems a little unprofessional to me. I have a thought; maybe this is just a trio of thugs who stole those uniforms? When he gets to me and looks at my face, he sees my stare and crinkles a larger smile at me, then moves on. The other two following him have stern looks on their faces but are otherwise just doing their job, just looking. When they pass through the entire train, they leave, and take with them the heavy tension they created.

I try not to be a cop hater, but this guy seemed like a real douchebag.

Went to the fancy oil and vinegar store in the mall with Onyx. Can’t remember its name, sells cooking oil, and seasoning, and fancy-pants stuff to dip bread in. Holy shit, Onyx though.
Onyx: Also Aspergers. Way worse than I am, but manages to live life relatively normally. Has a job and everything! He gives shitty advice about it, but it’s funny. Doesn’t have any sense of himself and people around him except the people he cares about. Literally gives no shits. Laughs loudly. Curses loudly, and around children and old people. Talks about Disney Princesses unabashedly. Shared how he “banged” Sera, his Dragon Age romance, to an audience of quiet readers in Barnes & Noble. Asked advice about a My Little Pony PNP, as if I would know anything about that. It’s hilarious. I love it!
Embarrassing, being with Onyx, but it’s liberating. All I can do is giggle and follow meekly, smile apologetically at people who look at us weird. Tempted to shush him, but I don’t want to interrupt his great time. Shushing is a dick move. Don’t shush who people are meant to be! Don’t want to end this amazing gift of his. It helps me feel better about myself. I care too much about what people think. If he can be a total weirdo and not bat an eye, I should be able to too.
We pass vinegar store, he just walks straight in, without even telling me he’s going in there. Tells me to try the chocolate vinegar. The store is tiny, we are two of five “costumers”. The employees ask “you guys need any help?” Onyx just says, “Nah!” and goes on getting samples. I feel so self-conscious!! Who can resist dipping soft croutons in flavored oil?! Free samples, but how much can you get before taking advantage?! Obligated to buy something now, but I’m broke! The employee chick continues to inquiry us on what we are looking for…Onyx just says “Just showing her the chocolate because its AWESOME.”
Geeeeez, why couldn’t I have been born with his type of brain!

I went to GameStop strictly for the Lycanroc code. I asked the dude behind the counter, “can I have the Pokemon?” I like to say it like a silly little girl for some reason, using my feminine charm, or something. I do know which Pokemon I am getting, but being cute over Pokemon is cute.
He says, “Psh, no.” And looks me dead in the eye, but with a smirk.
Know its a joke, but layer of flirting? I panic! Brain ceases to function! I just stutter like an idiot, “Wha—whaa—why?”
He laughs and says just kidding, but gives a sidelong look as hes getting the little code card.
Social moment ruined. It keeps replaying in my head.
It’s only a block away…maybe if I show up more…
they say ditziness is cute anyway…

Next bit

Strange Muse

Feeling inspired to update here and to write some whimsical unedited free form crap about my feelings. I really need to remember to keep this going. May be crap, but helpful for mental soothing. Was also encouraged to post more online, even anonymously, even on dumb unread blog, ahah. Maybe its the lack of sleep. Inspiration truly is a fanatical mistress; knocking on the door when I am ill equipped to deal with her!

Maybe its because I stuck my head out from the cave, saw a glimpse of the sunshine, and remembered how pleasing it is. Cave still too cozy and safe to want to leave though.

I’ve been feeling like a rock for months. A boulder wedged into a cliff, stuck and about ready to fall and crack to pieces. Can’t leave the house, can’t talk to anyone, barely create. Just a crusty old unproductive rock. But I feel different today. I think a waterfall is coming to unwedge and push away in a blast of water. It’s terrifying. I’m not sure I’m ready for the dam to be broken! May also be false alarm.

How is it possible to fall in love with the black and white shapes of words? Just text? Not even a name or a face to it. This muse comes unexpectedly from an unexpected place, though a muse wouldn’t be as musical if it could be expected. In strange form too, not even physical. No name, no face, no body; just words. Like a ghost whispering through my head at night.

I think I am just under illusions created by my own stupid forlorn heart. Enchanted by a mind that isn’t like the others. I might as well be a puppy, latching onto and following after the first kind gesture after being kicked. Sad, desperate, little puppy. But any spark of life is good, right? So long as I don’t go running blindly after it?

The ghost whispers, desperately seeking help, but it doesn’t care to hear. Any sound pleases it, urges it on. This is bad. Definitely not a good sign. Helping the ghost feels good, too good, but after? It will only be bad when the ghost has moved on. Must remember to not become attached. But right now, basking in the music is nice.

It’s also very confusing. I don’t understand why I like it. Ghosts are cold, unfeeling to anything outside their own form. Yet…what is it, exactly? I am an overemotional, hopeless romantic, enchanted by what? What do cold, logical, unpassionate ghosts see in that? I don’t understand why the ghosts like me, or why I like them. Opposites attract? It has happened before. Drawn to whispers, only to be left behind with my own whispers disappearing in the dark. Can’t let it happen again.

I am happy to say that this rambling has been helpful. The egotisticalness of wanting to say my own words almost makes me cringe, but I suppose that’s the curse of a writer.