Den’venture – Day 1

And we Danced atop the Clouds

If there is one thing I have come to realize, it is that Covid has caused people to forget how to be Human. It is almost as if being told to keep our distance from others, forced to hide our one form of non-verbal emotions, scared to even breathe around other people for so long, has caused us to forget how to evwn be around other people.

At the beginning of the movie Love Actually, the viewer is bombarded with images of picturesque airport scenes. Scenes of reunited lovers, of grandchildren seeing grandparents, old friends coming together… Everything an aiport isn’t. Even more so now. It feels as though people don’t even see other people. Lines exist just to patronize impatient caffeine cravers. 6 ft apart shortens to be however long a phone charger chord is. Masks are suggestions, simple barriers between hand and sustenance…

We arrived in Denver and the first thing I noticed, was that there were no mountains. Where the Eff were these supposed beautiful mountains? I don’t actually know what I had been expecting. Green trees? Snow capped mountains? Hip open-minded city dwellers?

Fields. Clouds. Cars that relied on other people’s e.s.p. to know they wanted to switch lanes.

A dubious first start. A little unimpressed…

We met with my brother, proud to show us his new home. We went for a short walk about the neighborhood. So many dogs. Bicyclists who ride at the speed of sound, and somehow just hope you have e.s.p. enough to jump out of their way as they pass. And crickets. Unseen, but by the sounds of them, they are the size of large squirrels.

The evening was topped with a much needed beer at the old English style tavern Bull and Bush (it is as inappropriate as only the English can be.) Dinner of large slabs of meat, washed down by locally brewed beer, some big golf trophy ceremony in the background, hosted by Rob Riggle (shrugs), and a toast to we know not what, but we were all together to have it.

Den’venture Prefunk

Dog tails, Cocktails, and Thai Food

Really, the adventure didn’t get started until practically tomorrow.

A quick trip to the ferry to get to Seattle, dad opted for a snack of French Assassin Fries. Leery, we were fortunate that the icecream machine was broken, barring mom from getting a sundae, and instead forcing her to get a throat soothing milkshake. And while the fries were screaming-napalm-hot-out-of-the-basket, nobody died.

We reached Seattle sometime after work, but anymore, when isn’t it busy on the streets. We had dinner at a new Thai place down the street from Aunty’s. As it is a vacation, I got the Ro’se cocktail. Some fancy drink of gin and rose syrup and something else, with a healthy sprinkling of rose petals atop. It actually tasted quite nice. A bit like a lovely, earthy lemonade.

It was dark by the time we drove to the hotel. Downtown Seattle. Not the destination, just the beginning. But I forget how bright big cities are. The bright headlights on the freeways, the ever illuminated sky high buildings, the flashing lights of signs advertising who knows what, the Franz bread sign lit like a sexy, Vegas attraction. I forget people live like this.

I remember a cemetery near my childhood home. A small thing, just right off the street. It somehow reminded me of one of the cemeteries in the original Legend of Zelda game. Out in front was a large torch. I always remember being flabbergasted that it was always lit. While, now I understand the symbolism of the eternal flame, I couldn’t imagine a light that never goes out. What a small town girl mentality. In the real world there are lights that are so bright they could snuff a candle out.

Outside, the silence is broken by the rushing sound of sleepless traffic. The big city river that never stops flowing. Over head, the occasional rumble of an airplane passing over. Noise. Lights, and noise… But, it is a reminder, that outside those curtains, the world is still alive.

4th Period – Journal Entry #6

There is a place I go when I need a break from life. A place that sits on the outside of Reality, conveniently hidden just behind my imagination. It is a place where music is played every day. The type of place where you find so many other people just like yourself. A pace where you fit in rather than sit out. This is the pace I go to when I need to escape. The doorway appears very rarely. This trip is what keeps me in childhood. And this trip had to end soon. This was my last. Ever.

Of course, I had to wake up early. It always happens that way. The excitement builds in you until you can not do anything but smile. And yet that smile is more genuine and bright than even the sun itself. Of course, it always happens that way.

Then there is the journey. I suppose the journey out of reality must always be a long one. There should be nothing of reality remaining within your heart. And I suspect each person’s journey is a different length. Mine, 10 hours. 10 lovely hours flying across the surface of the seemingly endless sea. The end of the journey will come into sight only when you wish it to.

And once there, all the faces you know so well, yet never see, will greet you with arms to embrace you. The music will be audible nearly 10 miles before land even comes into view. Some 10 thousand fingers and one thousand lungs shall be the ingredients for the scrumptious sweet of sound to be eaten only by ears alone. Fingers and lungs from the faces of those you know.

While indulging in the delectables of sight and sound a bond forms between the hearts of every one like bone and flesh bond together. And you know that it would be always much easier to stay and keep them than to break the bonds and bleed. You know that it’ll happen though.

And just when everything is good and wonderful and the curiosity towards the empty hole in your mind that was reality is no longer there… you find before your feet the edge of the ramp to the boat. in a world where we face only forwards… you know that the time has come.

You begin your journey back and it seems as though the journey back is always shorter than the one away. In a mere blink of the eye you see land again. The land that is reality. And everything that once made you smile begins to fade from mind like mist in the sunlight. It becomes like the memory of a glorious dream soon vanishing. And as you open your eyes everything is still moving forwards as usual.

This trip had to end soon. This was my last. Ever

4th Period – Journal Entry #1

I once asked my parents how it was that they happened to meet and fall in love. At the time, it was just getting dark out and we had just finished dinner. I think my mom was just about to do the dishes, but jumped on the opportunity to put it off. My parents exchanged looks and I could almost feel it in the air that we were being taken back in time.

“It started,” my mother began, “with your geeky father.”

This of course was the first time I had ever heard that my calm and cool dad used to be a geek.

“We were both living in a small town and I appeared to be some kind of an accident magnet for your mother,” my dad continued.

“Thankfully we grew out of that stage. We met when your mother ran me over with her car,” they exchanged smiles as if it were a fond memory.

“There was no serious damage done. The serious damage happened the second time.”

The story continued. Apparently after the first accident with the car, they kept meeting my accident. They would meet in the store and my mom would run him over with shopping carts, or cause end cases to fall on him. It was almost like clockwork, the moment he saw her something would go wrong.

It got to the point where my dad never went shopping anymore. He almost never went out. Things were fine for a while. He began getting used to not having an injury when he went to bed at night. And then, just as life was getting back to normal, he realized that he had begun to miss her. The whole time my dad was taking the break from my mom, she thought that maybe he had gone on some chess club trip or something.

So my dad, the dog, decided that he would ask her out.

Again my parents threw that “fond memory” smile at each other. When no one answered as to how it happened, I asked.

It turned out there was another thing my mom always did when she saw my dad. They have the exact same taste and so when my dad went to the store to get something, my mom would grab the last one (and knock something over on him by accident.)

So my dad devised a plan. He went and found an apology card and wrote a message on it. Just as he had suspected, my mom came for the card. When she opened it she found my dad’s message:

I’m flattered you were buying me an apology card, but how about you apologize in person over dinner with me.

Geeky Guy you keep running over

Of course my mom said “yes.”

The night of their first date, my dad said he was really nervous. He decided to walk to the restaurant. Little did he know what a bad mistake that was. Somehow my mother managed to run him over again. This time, he broke his leg. She felt so bad that she went to the hospital to see him every day til he got better. I think, sometime while my dad was in the hospital things began to change. They began growing out of their accident prone stage, and my mother never caused serious damage to my dad again (except the time she broke his nose, by accident.)

That was how we fell in love.”

4th Period – Journal Entry #2

This song. I don’t listen to it very often. Actually, I rarely listen to it at all. Usually just by mistake. I’ll pull out an old CD that I made years ago. Old CDs are the best way to remember things. They really take you back. Force you into a time you’ve already lived before. A free ticket back into the past.

Anyway, I’m sitting in my room and listening to this CD and enjoying it til this song came on and my emotions did a complete flip. This song, once beautiful, now something that almost burns my ears. Tempted to skip over it… my fingers won’t move.

This song is about a boy who nobody likes. The sort of boy who sits in the back of the room unnoticed, and stays home from school dances. At first, I suppose the song mostly appealed to me because of the music. You hear the words and recognize that they are sad, but for the most part they don’t really touch you emotionally, until you meet that kid.

I had never really liked seeing kids sitting by themselves. He was. So I changed that by sitting with him. I must have figured something would change, because when I saw him alone again the next day I was surprised. After that, I made a note of saying “hi” to him and sitting with him each day.

The thing most kids don’t realize is that even the quiet, shy kids are interesting too. He loved to read books, that’s probably why he was so quiet. It was his own personal escape from reality. What he loved most were Star Wars books, and Lord of the Rings books, and any sort of story that was as far from modern as possible. He love Star Wars best though. He often drew his own deep space scenarios involving Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker and all the characters. He was a fantastic artist too. He was in a couple art classes. He always finished the assignments early so he would have time to draw his own pictures with the art supplies provided. He never turned in anything other than what was assigned though. And he only did moderate work on what was assigned. He did it so the teachers wouldn’t recognize him as anything special. I told him it was wrong.

He had a funny walk too. He said it was because he broke his leg when he was young. At first I thought he was walking that way because his feet were wet and he was walking on linoleum floors and didn’t want to fall. But I learned that wasn’t the case.

I never made fun of him like the other kids did. I think after spending so much time with him I must have fallen in love in my own way. On Valentine’s day he drew me a beautiful picture of a young rose. Life got to the point where I could hardly imagine life without him sitting in his corner in the hall. But that is exactly what happened. One day he wasn’t there and I was the one left alone. He wasn’t there the next day, or the one after that, or any day for the rest of the year. After I had taken time to think about it, I know what had happened. I, alone, wasn’t enough to pull him out of the hole he had fallen into. I had really tried though.

And so this song I once loved, now feels like knives to my soul. That is why I rarely to never listen to this song anymore.

4th Period – Journal Entry #11

8 21, 2084

Our maid found my other notes and threw them away. That’s the problem with them, they just throw everything and anything away. It took me a really long time to find any more paper. I suppose its strange to be doing this though. After all, now a days no one ‘writes’ anymore. Not by hand at least. Now the recipe for a good story is a computer and microphone. That’s how I should really be doing this. Good old fashioned auto-speak diaries. Computers record everything you say and puts it into the vast memory of the computer. That’s how all of the great contemporary classics were produced. I feel as though I have a lot of thoughts to be recorded though. Thoughts I don’t want the Network to monitor.

Anyway. The other day our maid died. She actually died. Just on her own. I came out into the living room to tell her to clean my room next, and there she was, just lying there on the floor. I pushed the emergency panic button and a team of roboticians came in. We’ve only had to call them over one other time. Our last maid was acting really weird. She kept throwing things on the floor. The roboticians rewired her, but it was no use. This time, our robot maid just died.

20 years ago all the robots were updated to look just like humans. To help them fit in better. The only way to tell the difference between robots and humans was to somehow get inside them. When I walked into the living room and saw her, I nearly screamed. I realized in that moment, that for the first time in my life, I’d have to clean my room myself.

9 3, 2084

Our NewsClip of the day was filled with reports of robots acting out. Lately they’ve all been acting weird. It’s so hard to find good work these days. If our robots stop doing the work we make them to do then we, the people are going to have to do it. The roboticians have been working overtime. They’re thinking of scrapping all the old model robots and starting over. As if it’s not stressful enough having our teleporter break, now all the robots are malfunctioning. My grandma once told me that way back in the olden days, people walked everywhere. “Cars” were only used to transport someone long distances. Like between housing units. I can hardly imagine. Now, people just teleport everywhere they want to go. Although we all know it’s because the cars of the olden days ran on a strange kind of fuel that was eating away at our ozone. So now, we don’t use “cars.” Although, it’s not like anyone would want to walk anywhere anyway, teleporting is just easier. Each building is about two miles from the next. My grandma said it was a scheme. The Network says they did it for the people. “It’s all for the best.” My grandma says they’re trying to make us all “lazy.” I still don’t know what that word means.

9 10, 2084

I remember one time I was playing my daily game of virtual chess with some kid in the Game Center. There was something about the kid that made me a bit uncomfortable. I think most of the kids my age felt it. Kids. My grandma told me that the Network controls us through the Youth of the Nation. I think I finally understands what she meant by that.

Our NewsClip today was one story over and over and over. And as if it weren’t strange enough in the first place that the kid was out walking around instead of teleporting, he was being followed by a couple of kids my age. I had overheard them once talking about how they believed he was really a robot. I never thought they’d take action on it. The kids like trying to impress the Network. We all know the only way to discover a robot is by getting inside them. These kids took the kid to the top of an abandoned building and began slicing him up. They must have known there was a camera up there, but that’s how kids are these days. They try hard to show everyone that they are following America’s Standards to their fullest, and that our nation is heading in the right direction.

I’m against the idea of robots thinking for themselves as much as the next person, but what these kids did was wrong in the eyes of everyone. And they played the surveillance video of it over and over on the NewsClip. It was horrible. I’m sorry, I can’t write more about it right now. I think I need to take a walk.

Each Night I think I melt, absorbed and assimilated into the fibers of my sheets. Then sail away, like captain and ship, into the land of dreams. Where I run, and sing, and mostly cry. And when the morning comes, must tear my self from that warm embrace, painfully form my body anew, and face the Day..

Taking a Break – Day 3

Fur Sister

I sometimes look at my fur sister and wonder what she would be like if she were human. She would be slight of build, but taller than me. (It isn’t hard for anyone to be taller than me.) She would have long, wavy copper coloured hair. It would be blond on some areas, and deep red in others. She would have long copper coloured eye lashes, with dark makeup around the rims, like mine. She would be a head turner. She is. Everyone always commenting on how beautiful she is, and how wonderful her smile is.

She would be incredibly lazy. She would sleep in late, until dad comes up and smacks mom on the butt and says, “time to get up.” Depending on the day, she will either walk down the stairs one by one, or she’ll run down, full of life. But every evening, she’ll be back asleep, on the couch with her feet up once the tv comes on. And she’d go up to bed before everyone else.

She would love her treats, just like me. A little pastry with her coffee. Dessert after dinner. A cookie here or there. And if she looks hard enough at you, she might get lucky and you’ll share some of yours with her.

Despite her laziness, I think she’d probably be a sports player. Soccer, because dad is English. That, or line dancing… due to some weird obsession she has with dad’s foot every time his leg is crossed. (Although, Nanny also had a weird thing with his foot every time his leg was crossed too. Strange…) She also loves to chase a ball though. She’s not really great at catching, so, maybe soccer is a good fit.

Generally, she would just love everything about being outside. Making snow angels in the Winter, swimming at the beach in the Summer, laying in the grass on a nice day.

And somehow, despite being so full of life, she would also be incredibly full of love. Her excitement every time family comes to visit would be overflowing. She wouldn’t be the sort of girl who gets weird when someone gives her a hug or says they love her. That is just the sort of thing that makes her the happiest.

Taking a Break – Day 2

It’s 9:00PM but I’m taking her for a walk. It’s the last walk she’ll take for a while, so we take our time. I let her sniff every stick and leaf. At this time, it’s not quite full dark, but the sun is past the horizon. It is quiet, save for my lone foot falls, her sniffing, and the wind through the trees. The trees reach up, way up to the sky, and drift back and forth in the wind. They don’t sing, or clap, just sort of hushhhh, as if telling the world to quiet now. A gentle shushing, soft, like calm waves brushing the sand.

It is quiet here, but the streets are labyrinthine. Twisting, and curving, and connecting, and ending. I let her decide the path though. She knows where she is going. I see a man. He is walking his own dog, some small yappy thing that doesn’t take time to acknowledge any sticks or leaves. His face is buried in his phone. He ironically, barks at his dog to behave as we pass each other.

There is a moment when I hear a rustle. More than a leaf blowing in the wind. I look over and through the trees I see a deer. We are both quiet as we notice each other. It reminds me of the scene in Stand by Me, when Gordie sits alone as the sun comes up. A deer pops out through the trees and they have a moment as they watch each other. I honestly still don’t know the significance of that scene, but that is what this moment feels like. A human and a deer, having a moment in the dim light of day.

I see the same man with his small yappy dog approaching. His face is still buried in his phone. They pass.

When I was younger, every May we would drive way, way out, out to the end of the road. So far I would always fall asleep before we got there. And then we would hike even further than the cars could go, to reach a place at the end of the world. Ocean, and beach, and trees, and fields. We would camp there, in rustic cabins. No sound of traffic, or pollution. I remember, in the morning, the sound of crows, as we rose with the morning sun.

There is that man again. For the third time he approaches my direction, and I am beginning to think he is buried so deep in his phone he has no idea where he is going, or this is a clone and I am in some sort of strange alternate universe. I side eye him as he passes. He and dog randomly turn and descend into the trees down some dark, dubious trail.

It begins to get darker. The only light, garden lights, and lights in the windows of homes, kitchens and living rooms as people settle into the night. I can smell the trees. It is quiet and I know I could easily vanish. I hear the theme from the Pink Panther drift out from my pocket. Another irony, having just finished an episode of a crime mystery, solved by an awkward and unusual individual. It is mother, she is afraid I have vanished. We are close though. Fur sister grabs her leash and begins taking herself down the street. Mother walks to the end of the driveway, barely visible, but Fur sister knows. She runs the rest of the way home, always the most exciting reunion, as though it has been years, and not simply some 30 minutes.

Taking a Break – Day 1

Per the usual, woke up this morning, found myself spooning my precious cat, and for an instant was unsure of where I was. Then I heard my dad downstairs. I could hear the hum of the microwave as he warmed milk, and the weird brrrr of the coffee machine as it sputtered out coffee. A few minutes later I hear him slowly padding up the stairs, a few of them creaking as he passed. I hear him enter my room and the soft thump as he sets a mug of hot coffee on my nightstand. Without opening my eyes, I say thank you.

This is the morning here. Coffee, sometimes jumping into bed with mom and having my feet washed by my fur sister, getting dressed, then driving into town for more coffee.

Its Saturday, and though not huge, we decide to check out the Saturday Market. A total of one street block, two foot traffic lanes wide. The town has dropped precautions and full faces are displayed proudly. Those choosing to maintain safety still sport their cute and personalized masks, …hanging just below their noses. Walking the streets like times before is surreal, but it would seem that after a year of being mandated to keep six feet apart people no longer seem to remember personal space politeness.

Pops and I decide to walk back home from town. A 5 mile trek through streets and trees. Normally nothing to sweat about, other than the million degree blazing sun. Wrong foot attire strikes with a vengeance once the commitment has been made. Dad says that we can call mom to pick us up at any time. I raise the Korean Fighting fist and say, “no! Rose Garden right?” (In reference to the time I powered through a leisurely, horrible walk, in which I threw my hip out, to make it to the damned Rose Gardens. …and then, of course, I had to walk back home…) By the time we make it home I am pretty sure my feet are going to explode from massive blisterization.

I take a shower, and then crawl in for a nap. I think its the first nap I have unapologetically taken in months. Not burdened by guilt that I could be spending my time more productively.

Dream for my Birth Mother

I close my eyes and I see her. She’s so crystal clear, I almost reach out to touch her.

I dream that she is as elaborate a storyteller as I am. So when people ask, I might say I get it from her. And when that first book gets accepted I can dedicate it to her.

I dream that she is beautiful. Not the immediately obvious beauty. The sort of beauty that shines through to the right sort of people. And graceful. And people would gasp when she walks by. I know that that isn’t a gene I inherited, but it is what I dream for her.

I dream that she has long, full locks of black hair, and is the sort of woman who might do anything she pleases with it. And if she ever saw me she’d say, “you have my hair,” with a smile, and I might learn to love it yet.

I dream she has long, beautiful, delicate fingers, and anything she touches, with a little work, turns to gold. And perhaps her favorite things to do are make music, and write stories. Bedtime stories for the family I hope she has.

And though I know I am the product of an affair, I would not hate her. I am old enough yet to know the power of love. Its blinding intoxication. Because I know in the end she loves me still.

And I dream that when she first saw me she brushed a lock of hair behind her ears, and reached to me with those beautiful hands, and as she told me stories, I gazed back at that beautiful face and saw someone I’d see each time I closed my eyes and dreamed.

High School Monologue

I guess we both knew this day would come. There was no point in trying to stop it. And now I look around this huge house that you built 30 years ago for us, and I can’t help feeling alone. I admit that 62 years together is a long time and well… well I’m disappointed to see that this is where it ends.

What am I going to do with that old raggedy chair you always sat in? You would never let me throw it away or fix it. And now it’s just sitting there in the middle of the room with no one to sit in it… and you know it doesn’t even match anything!

And I never got to tell you, but that cup you always drank your Sunday coffee in… Well, I accidentally dropped it while washing it a few days ago. I guess I would have told you sooner or later… Tomorrow is Sunday after all.

Who am I going to watch movies with? I mean… I know you never really liked sitting with me for that long and staring at a television screen. You always fell asleep before the beginning credits were over. I suppose when I really think about it, I was watching the movies alone anyway… But you were with me at least.

Eheh… From here I can hear that leaky faucet. It’s been leaking for two years now. I suppose you won’t be fixing it like you said you would. I remember when I couldn’t stand to hear the sound of water dripping into the sink. You promised me you would “fix it tomorrow” for two years. And frankly, you and I both know I don’t know how to fix things. I don’t even know what a philip’s head is, or whatever it’s called is.

Believe it or not, but I haven’t even thought of how I am going to tell our kids. You were always the one to think of things to say. They adored you too. What should I do? Should I just call them up and tell them? Should I call them up and make conversation and then just… slip it to them? Oh, I just can’t think without you here!

There are so many things I know I should have said before you left, but then I guess there always are. You and I shared a long journey together and now I must start one of my own. It’s going to be pretty hard getting used to this old house alone. Maybe I’ll have the kids come visit me more often. I’d really like that… Just look at this picture of us… Those were the days when we were young, but we can’t go back. If I could just say one thing though… it’d be that… I’m really going to miss you.

Dear Me of 2005

It took me a little longer to find this letter. Like 16 years, but I finally did. I successfully graduated high school. I even graduated college, thought it was a struggle. Advice: Don’t do what people expect you to do. Failing will only slow you down. And here’s the truth, I miss the ocean every day.

I’ll describe myself because I still don’t keep a diary. Right now, my addictions are Beer, Icecream, and Pie. Especially Beer Floats, and Pie Milkshakes. I loved dyeing my hair this deep burgundy colour, and wearing dark purple contacts. But when I turned 34, I stopped. I still listen to Metallica, Iron Maiden, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Stones. On and on. I still have all those jackets, cuz I stopped growing a long time ago. And I still don’t wear them. I wear a lot of converse, and leather ankle boots. I stopped painting my nails years ago. Now it’s glue ons. Still liking guys, but have had enough heartbreak that I have now been comfortably single for near half a decade.

Kendra and I are still friends, but our souls have since travelled different roads. She is now engaged and has bought a house. I bounce from apartment to apartment with my two cats, and yes, two tortoises. You probably never really thought you’d have tortoises. They’re pretty great though.

Since graduating from high school life has been tough. I was finally diagnosed with depression and graduating from college became a struggle. But I currently work in a psych unit, and you were right; even though life seems bad, there are people whose lives are worse.

At age 30, I had a midlife crisis. I know, “30” isn’t midlife, but it happened. Everything got confusing, and I became extremely emotionally troubled, and I lost sight of who I am. I don’t know if I got over it, but I do think I have become who I am meant to be. I am unapologetically Me. And through all the struggles, you will get here. You never give up. It took until now to realize, but: Love your parents, they have given you everything and more. Love the boys you are with, because all the heartbreak will build you up stronger. And believe in yourself, because you are smart, and thoughtful, and caring. You are incredible without having to announce it to the world. Try not to let others make you feel like less. Because people will do that. They will try to bring you down to feel better about themselves.

Keep watching Korean Dramas, they become huge.

Keep writing, even when it feels hard, because it is how you relate to the world.

And keep being curious, funny to say, but you actually do like learning.

And yes, my handwriting has gotten worse. I continue to write with pen and paper because believe it or not, but phones have become smart. They do everything. And Robots have taken over the world.

Dear Me of 2009(ish)

Where does one begin when writing to their future self? Right now it is 2005 and I will be graduating in a matter of weeks. At this moment I actually feel good about it. I am ready to move on. I’m sure though, that you felt sadness only a few years ago. I hope that now you only miss the ocean.

Next I suppose, I should describe myself to paint a picture of how much you’ve changed, because I know how you refuse to keep a diary anymore. Right now my addictions are gum and chapstick. I’m going through a phase of dying my hair red and letting it fade to blonde… I listen to a lot of old and metal music. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Stones. On and on. I still have a strange jacket obsession, yet never wear them. I wear jeans and as of this year actually started wearing sneakers instead of my boots all the time. My nails are the base of my creativity. Um… still liking guys and making friends with girls who steal those guys.

Speaking of friends, Kendra and I are soul sisters. We are how many miles away from each other and still are running down parallel paths. At the moment we’re both Samurai. (I hope she isn’t still going out with Uriah.) What else?

Well, I suppose I could say that this year really made me realize something important. That even though your life may be bad, to the point where you think you’re at your very lowest, there are always people whose lives are worse. Hopefully someday more people will come to realize that by the time you read this again.

I can’t really think of what else I might need to tell myself.

“It’s only a game,” “There are plenty of other fish in the sea,” “All you need is love,” “Don’t strive for conformity,” “110% is more than enough,” “They can’t tell,” “Guys really don’t understand,” and “It’s all a matter of opinion and theirs doesn’t count.”

I guess this is all really just common sense and I can only assume that that grows with age. I should hope. And I should hope that by then you have fully realized that all the Asians you see have paid a lot of money to look the way they do. So just remember, you look great and will only get better looking for about 20 more years! And remember also that your heart does effect what you see. That guy whom you love to look at… you may not, given enough time. It only takes one little action to change the way you see someone. Someone who makes you feel bad about yourself isn’t someone you want to be with. And as I said before, I can really only hope that you have already come to realize this.

Here’s one, I have a problem with (now) so my advice is remember this one well, – No One is worth compromising your identity for. Your identity is the base of your existence and without that then who are you? Be yourself and don’t be afraid of that.

I feel as though I am talking too much about things to remember. Really, I wrote this to account for how much I have changed in 4 years.

That one time in High School when I wrote a scene for Trainspotting…

Ah wis sittin wi Sick Boy in his flat. Ah fix a nice yin in the sights ay Sick Boy’s old .22 air rifle oot in the park. VPLs. Visible Pany Lines in sight. Oh yes. Ah wis looking fir the VLPs. Sick Boy wis lookin fir the dugs. He hated dugs fir some reason. Ah’m no exactly sure what it is that Sick Boy hates so much about dugs cept their shitein all over the park.

– Ye have entered the scopes, ma little pretty. Ah mutter, – Visible Panty Lines in view. Oh yes. Brilliant. Ah wis enjoyin masel when Sick Boy snatched the rifle from ma hands nearly takin ma nose wi it.

– Get tae fuck! Ye cunt! Ah rubbed ma nose as ah jumped up from the windae sill.

– Quick! Get doon! He pulled me back doon. – Ah see yin. It’s a bloody brilliant yin. Ah kin just see it all now. He allowed a moment of silence while he invisioned the kill. – Oh man. Ah think ah bucked that chicky he’s wi. Oh yes. Very nice…

– What?! Ah snatched the rifle from his hands. Ah scoped oot the chicky he’s talkin aboot. Her back is tae us. Ah’m sure Sick Boy has bucked her though. He’s bucked half the continent. Then she turns tae us n ah see her face. It’s wee Janet. Sick Boy dinnae buck her. Ah did!

Ah remember it too. She wis a good yin. She wis the only yin to walk oot on me. It wis probably because ay ma red hair. Ah eywis ken that red heid ay mine wis a curse.

– What do ye think ay black hair fer us? Ah asked Sick Boy whae wis tryin tae see her n the dug withoot his rifle scope.

– Ah think ye’ll look like a fuckin buftie. Have ye gone radge? He says, takin the rifle back.

– Get tae fuck. Ah dinnae care what ye think anyway. Ah says, goin tae find a beer.