Memories

When I was a sophomore in high school, a close friend of mine died in a car accident. It was late a night, and both drivers were drunk. One car was speeding down the highway, and the other, the one he was in, pulled out into the intersection in front of it. The other car t-boned them on the passenger side, killing him. Both drivers were uninjured.

I'm not sure that I had experienced a more personal death in my life up to that point. Family members that I had fleeting contact with and so forth, didn't really affect me. But this was a kid, a young kid with whom I had grown up with. A kid who I remember as the first person to ever call me a "motherfucker". A kid who I recall playing basketball with when I was 3 foot nothing. A kid who I was really quite fond of.

I remember attending his wake. Many of our classmates were there, and I recall, as I entered. A friend of mine, another close friend from a different circle, saw me. He had been crying, quite clearly, as many others were. I imagine it was the same situation for many of them. I did not cry. In fact, I was a little resentful of the others who were. Many of them had nothing to do with this young boy in the casket. They didn't hang out with him, they didn't talk to him, they didn't even really acknowledge his existence. I was honestly offended when my friend patted me on the shoulder and said, "Good to see you. I gotta get out of here, it's too much," and then left. This person who had barely known him, and who had only casually engaged him in conversation. A person who had gone to a different school for the past eight years until the beginning of high school. What memories did he share with the young, reposing teenager lying there on that table?

I sat towards the back of the room. I did not cry. Even as I write, my eyes grow blurry, and I feel the tears building, but in that moment, I did not cry. But I was not indifferent. Sitting there, looking at him, I felt very deeply. Everyone always says that looking upon a corpse in a funeral home, they look so peaceful and natural. As if they were just sleeping. But when I looked at him, I saw he was dead. He looked dead to me. He did not look peaceful or natural, he looked dead. And from that day on, every personal funeral I've been to that had an open casket, or a wake, it has been the same. The dead look dead. Bereft of life. Expired, deceased.

I did not cry. On the inside, I felt so many things. I was overwhelmed. Maybe I cried internally, but I don't even think I did then. I merely sat for 30 minutes or so, looking at him in silence. Watching other people make large scenes. I sat quietly, in the back, and thought about the experiences we had had together. Then, I got up, just as quietly, and left. I did not go to the funeral. I saw him dead, and that was all the closure I needed.

But I've never forgotten him. Many other friends have come and gone over the years. I've not had contact with the vast majority of people I went to high school with in many, many years. I probably only vaguely remember experiences with even half of them. But I remember many things I did with him.

In particular, I remember staying over at his dad's house one summer, several years before high school. He lived a little ways out of town. Not so much as to be far from other houses, but enough that there was a large wooded area nearby, and even in the yards of the houses there were more trees than any townie was used to seeing. During the day, we romped through the woods and explored, past a septic pond, into the rain drenched foliage, and then back again, stopping off briefly in a neighbor's yard to swipe some gooseberries. In the evening, we played some games, and around 10 pm, we decided to watch a couple movies. Now, at the risk of dating myself, it was a few years yet before DVDs were the dominant medium, and he had a couple new releases on VHS, Detroit Rock City and South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. Being a child, I was highly impressed. We watched them in that order, while he dutifully fast-forwarded through the sex scene in Detroit Rock City, as his father had told him that he was not allowed to watch that scene, we watched all of South Park, as there was no such edict against it. Eventually, after the movies, we fell asleep, though I do not remember when.

I'm still not sure I understand other people's reactions. Some of those there, were indeed his friends, and I can understand that, thinking on memories like this, they may be brought to tears. But others, as I said, only knew him as a face in class. Did not know him, his middle name, or his life. Why should they be making a big scene, crying and shrieking as if he were there best friend in the world? I suppose it must have been a familiarity issue. They had seen him every day at school, and thought they knew him as a result. Maybe it was something else. Regardless, I do not judge them. They were children, facing a personal loss, as was I. And that's all we are, isn't it? We are all children faced with our first real personal loss.

Dreams From Last Night 12

Strange dreams abound, that bled into one another. I recall being in Wisconsin, and finding an old magazine and informing my partner that I needed a particular thing from it. I pointed to a picture of a My Little Pony, one of the 80s ones, eating birthday cake, not that unusual, except that it was War, of the Horsemen  of the Apocalypse. She turned to me and said that if we had a particular crafting tool, I could make it myself.I also recall a dog, a shaggy yellow thing that appeared to be a cross between a Saluki and a golden retriever, that needed to go outside, so we let it out.

In another dream, or perhaps the continuation of the last, I was still in Wisconsin. My other partner and her mother were talking, about something, and it sounded like my partner wanted Girl Scout cookies. Her mom decided to call over the little girl who lives next door. Kai seemed to object, which is kind of expected from her. But the little girl came over and Kai's mom sat on some steps with some kittens that the little girl and I played with for a bit. Then Kai and I went outside into a strange area. It was clearly summer but there was a large creek in a lightly wooded area, and also fields of grass that featured many people playing sports. The fields I was trying to get Kai to come back inside, but she ignored me and was behaving strangely. It also felt like part of the house was out doors, I mean that part of the interior was not actually on the interior, if you follow me. Dream logic, you know. But regardless, Kai seemed to want to wander aimlessly in the area and I had something I needed or wanted to do, and so I said "I'm going back," and turned and headed back. Kai crossed the stream, jumped in it, etc. then as I crossed a bridge she went under it to the other side, where it made an S-bend so that it ran parallel with the path for a short way, then ran perpendicular to it again. she crossed to the opposite bank and stood there. I turned away for a moment, and when I looked back, she was standing in a different place. It was very creepy, and reminded me of the Slenderman.  I kept walking, but as I did I watched her and she began swimming under the water and came up near the path. I went down and talked to her. The scene shifted and we were in some sort of basement laundry room. There was a motley collection of items on the bottom step, that I was sitting just above, and a couple inches of water on the floor, where Kai stood. I pointed out the items, disposable razors, cigarettes, cigarette lighters, deodorant, and other things. Kai said they were her parents, and probably came from under the stairs, being rescued from the flooded floor. She was then ready to join me in whatever it was I was going to do, and put on fresh clothes as the floor dried, and then I awoke.

Dreams From Last Night XI

Last night, we arrived home from our multi-state holiday tour, and it was our first night back in our own bed. And it brought with it some strange dreams. Evidently, my older sister was getting remarried and I was in charge of the paperwork. why, I don't know. But it seemed that all of my fighting friends were there. In fact, my unit seemed to be in charge of the services. Old Shatterhaze was even there, wearing a diamond again.There were also many people who went to my high school. Even though my sister is four and a half years older than me, there were people both older and younger than me there for some reason. A particular individual whom I never really got along with  sat next to me. I asked him politely to go elsewhere and leave me be, but he wouldn't. I got increasingly angry in my appeals, until he finally began sexually harassing me. None of the people around seemed to care, and at this point I left to go find whoever was in charge of the event's security. I wandered for a while and then I awoke.
There was another dream I had, that involved a friend of mine and I in a rivalry over classic toys, and another that involved me wandering around an unknown neighborhood with some people, looking for a music teacher so that he could autograph a series of instruments. But that is all I really remember from last night.

Motivation

Today is not a good day for being productive. I've awoken, but my head is not at all clear. It is filled with the remnants of last night's sleeping pill, and the general haze and lethargy of the morning. In addition, I feel the motivation sapping cold of apathy and depression growing closer.

I had dreams last night. Many dreams. I remember a few, and I shall write of them. A weird combination of Seth MacFarlane characters hijacking Santa Claus's sleigh was one, but perhaps the least interesting.

I remember climbing a mountain. A very high mountain. Toting with me supplies to build some sort of  base. It was a sort of launch base for NASA, as I recall. There were others climbing as well, but it seemed to me that they were not so important, and they were going up and down as they pleased. I arrived at the top, and my old friend Jimmy was there already, scouting out  the area and finding the best place to set up. We left the supplies and took a helicopter down to report (he knew how to fly it, and that was apparently how he got there. Why I had to climb up with the supplies still baffles me.) Regardless, we were quite disappointed by the reception. It was hostile and discouraging. It changed after that, but I don't remember the rest particularly well.

But this is not a post about dreams. No, it's a post about motivation. In that dream, I was motivated to do those things, despite discouraging circumstance.I must be motivated to write and to make videos despite discouraging circumstance. But I do not feel like I am. I feel like I have no reason to continue doing so. In the dream the prospect of flying helicopters or going up in a rocket was motivation enough, but as for writing, it's difficult and frustrating at times. Making videos is fun, but editing and uploading them takes so much time that I'd rather spend doing other things, because I get so little time to do things I like to do on my own. I know I need to do it. But finding the motivation for it is incredibly difficult. As it is, I am only writing this because I know I must write something today. And this maybe all I manage for the day. I don't even know if I will feel bad for that. So far, this has been a semi-productive writing session, in terms of volume. And in terms of my honest feelings as well. Whether it is entertaining or not is another matter, but honestly, I'm not sure any of my hits are actual people reading it, so maybe I don't need to be entertaining. Whatever, I'll see what I can do.

Rites of Passage

The day was rapidly approaching that he would cross the threshold into adulthood. The elders warned him to stay away from the old stone path, but all his friends had done it the year before, but he could not bring himself to do it yet. They teased him and taunted him.

It was on the heels of a particularly sharp barb that he decided to do it, that very night. He and his friends all gathered in a field near the path. It was a crisp autumn night, and the moon shone brightly.

The group slowly made their way to the edge of the path. There it stood before them. His spirit shrunk back from the gravity of the ritual, but he stood firm. He took one step, then another unto the path. His friends were cheering for him and he grew more confident.

Just as he was about to reach the middle a bright light struck him and a terrible sound froze him in his tracks. His friends called to him to run, but he could not move. As it was bearing down upon him he tried to go back, but it was too late. He flew into the air from the impact, and his lifeless body landed by the side of the path, in a pool of blood. His friends scattered.

The next morning a game warden came down the road in a battered old pick up truck. Seeing the body, he lifted it into the bed of the truck. "One less to worry about," he said as he made a mark on a tally sheet. As he drove on, he thought of his son. They were going to go deer hunting next weekend, and it would be his son's first time.

The Problem With "If Everyone Else Jumped Off A Bridge..."

Note: The following essay is derived solely from personal observation.

So, you've probably heard the retort: "If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?", maybe from a parent whose child wants something unreasonable (or not so unreasonable), and uses the justification "But everyone else is getting it/doing it/has it!" Maybe your own parents said it to you, or you've said it to you kids. It doesn't have to be a strict parent/child conversation, it could be a conversation between any two people, really. I've heard it come from friends, co-workers, miscellaneous family members, teachers, and probably people with other relationships to the addressee as well, in both the media and in my own life.

There are several problems with this retort. First, and most obviously, it's implying that the person (and whoever else is doing this thing) is somehow stupid or at the least in possession of so poor judgement as to do whatever's popular, regardless of the practical consequences. It always came off as quite insulting and not a little condescending to me, as if the person saying it (especially if that person is an authority figure, like a parent or teacher) did not think highly of the other and thought this person would be so horribly lost without them. Putting someone on the defensive doesn't seem like it's likely to get your point across.

Second, it's usually a completely inappropriate comparison. For example, a teenager wanting to get a tattoo might argue that all their friends are getting tattoos, thus prompting their parents to reply with "If all your friends jumped off a bridge...". While it is true that there are some dangers associated with tattooing, as well as some social stigma in certain groups, among other legitimate objections, there's no real comparison between getting tattooed and jumping off a bridge. Some might argue that the "jumping off a bridge" is just arguing following the group to an absurd conclusion to get the point across. Does it get the point across? Would the teenager in this hypothetical suddenly realize that following the group is not always a good idea and reconsider their stance? I'd hazard to guess probably not.

Third, the argument tries to break the person away from their chosen in-group, which usually leads to poor results. I may write more extensively on my understanding of the dynamics of in-groups and out-groups later, but for this post, I'll simply say that tribalism is alive and well, and people rarely like to go against their chosen tribe, and there are many reasons for this sociologically and perhaps other reasons ranging from the practical to biological.

This was a thought that occurred to me today. And as I consider it, it seemed to me that saying such a thing serves no real purpose, other than to express contempt for the idea or the people who embrace the idea. Should parents and teachers really use this sort of retort on children, especially young children?

Updates and things

It's been awhile since I posted anything, so I thought I'd update you on what's going on. While I have ostensibly working on a NaNoWriMo project, that I do not wish to post until completion, I've not been working hard enough on it, nor have I been writing as much as I should. The past several days have seen little writing from me at all. However, I hope to change that and get back on track again. I've sort of used dreams I've had as a sort of crutch, as it were, and I haven't had any that I remember recently. Or rather none that I remember enough of to make a post about. To be honest, that is good, because it should force me to write other things. However, it has not had that effect, and instead I have written nothing, or very, very little for the past week or so.

There may be a part or two of Chapter 1 that I have yet to post, but I have stalled on it. I feel like I'm falling into my old habit of getting bored with writing and wishing to move on to other things. I do not have that luxury, and I will not allow myself to entertain that thought for long. Y'all can expect more writing soon, and I'm going to try to get back on track with daily postings.

Thanks for reading!