Monday, February 9, 2009

& we've shared some times, I wouldnt trade for the world

It has been awhile since I've sat down to write in here. Life has been pretty hectic, but not in a bad way.

With two weeks until my 18th birthday and less then five months until I graduate, I feel the need to recognize just a few of the people in my life currently. These people make me crazy and half the time I wonder why I'm stuck with them. But, the other half of the time, I couldnt possibly feel more blessed to be badgered by these lunatics I call my friends. These unusual people are the reason my life is what it is, and in spite of the difficulties, I wouldnt trade it in for any other.

Since, I'm fairly certain none of them read this, I have no problem recognizing them here. Whats the point you ask? Well, one day, years after I stop writing in this, I'll go back and read through these posts and remember the people in my life and why I kept them so close.

Well, the first person who stands out in my head is my "bestest enemy." Though we coined the term in sixth grade, it has never lost its validity. And, I doubt it ever will. Everything important that has happened to me over the past 7 years, she has been a part of in some twisted way or another. Every last stupid thing I've done, I've done with this moron. Every cut or bruise I've acquired has been her fault and if I get in trouble, she is standing right next to me getting yelled at too. We have done some of the stupidest stuff together and I'm sure one day it will be funny. Actually, its pretty damn funny now. We talk about the future all the time--about going to jail together, living in the bum house together, sitting on our front porch with shine and shotguns together. I know there is no guarantee that any of this will actually happen. (Mostly because I'll be shocked if we dont kill each other long before that.) Nonetheless, these past years have adventure, to say the least. Whether we live to see ourselves old and crotchety or not, I'm sure we have many more dumb ideas ahead, if only to top the ones we've already got underway. So, Lishy Duh, raise an unexpected glass to Flo (and all of the "incidents"), all of our first times, all of our walks (even the one in the blizzard), New Zealand, photo shoots, and us; whatever we are. You are the one thing in my life that is allowed to not have a definition. Mostly, because Webster himself could not define this. (If you ever actually read this I'll have to kill myself...or you. Definitely you.)

Ah, boy. My dear pain in the ass. Never have I ever had a friend more frustrating than him. Of course, he may have a few redeeming qualities. (Though, none come to me at the moment!) In all seriousness, I love the fact that the two of us can just call each other and do nothing but rant, or sit at my kitchen table and plot out everyone's demise. We are better than everyone, it's quite the responsibility, we know, but we live with it. It's a blessing and a curse really. Philip, my love, raise an unexpected glass to cooking dinner, our exclusive and excellent parties in the bum house, Jeopardy, Cash Cab, hating Alicia (and on rare occasion loving Alicia), killing that ugly kid, and driving each other crazy...which we undoubtedly do at least once a day. And by the by, the front seat is mine whether you like it or not.

Whoever thought you and I would be friends? My freshman year we found each other...ready for it?....CANTANKEROUS! lol Four years later, I'm shoving you out my front door because we're disgusted at how similar our minds are....not to mention our childish sense of humor. We've bonded over some prettttty strange things, but, in the words of Brendan, "it's all good." Leah, please for the love of god, raise an unexpected glass to butt-fu, long sad car rides to nowhere, long happy car rides to...nowhere, the greatest writer of the twenty-first century, the disappearing horizon, the breathing ocean, the non-virgin pound it, and finally having friends who dont suck! lol, well at least a friend who doesnt suck.

You. I dont know what to say about you, but I know that you deserve to be recognized here. We are undefined. We are...inappropriate. I am horribly confused and befuddled by the whole situation, but somehow...I'm okay with that. This person and myself have known each other for quite a while, but only recently have we become this close. He is one of the most extraodinary people I have ever met and even though I try to convince myself that its all a bit of silliness, I know that I genuinely care about him. I've never met anyone who makes me smile more or feel less broken than he does. He is... surprisingly difficult to talk about here. I keep typing things and then deleting them. I think this is because my vocabulary can not possibly explain how amazing I think he is. If I can accomplish anything in my life, I want to help him realize how wonderful, impactful, and beautiful he really is. Raise an unexpected glass to questions and answers, boundaries...or not, to finding people who make things okay, to the promise of the bum house, and to the "L" word. The whole concept, of which, is kind of scary. But it's kind of exciting as well. =]

There are so many more people I can write about here. Lora, Emily, Android...hundreds more. But, I am kind of sleepy and will write about them another day, I'm sure.

"I've got some friends, some that I hardly know. But we've had sometimes, I wouldnt trade for the world. We chase these days down with talks of places where we will go."

Sunday, January 4, 2009

It's Chaos, Clocks and Watermelons

About a year ago I watched “I’m Not There,” a movie inspired by Bob Dylan’s music and in many ways his life. At the end of the movie the people I was with got up, exclaimed “good movie” and that was that. I sat there…and I just cried. Someone asked me why I was crying and I didn’t really have an answer. Up until that point I was only vaguely familiar with Dylan. I knew some of his songs and the basics of his life but I had yet to really experience Dylan.
After watching, though, what choice did I have? I really got into his music after that. He’s been my favorite singer ever since. But its amazing how we forget the way things start, isn’t it? We just forget the way things are born and never really remember until they die or are reborn. Tonight I watched the movie again. The last two scenes were the scenes that made me cry the first time…and the same two made me cry this time. This time, I knew why. “It’s chaos, clocks and watermelons…it’s everything.”
The way I experienced Dylan was to experience my own life. Of course, I have no way of knowing what his message really is because even if I got the chance to ask him he wouldn’t answer me. Maybe that’s because he doesn’t know…or maybe he does and just doesn’t think I deserve to know unless I can figure it the fuck out on my own. Anyway, what my own life has taught me and what Dylan’s music reminds me is that we can fight things or accept them--we can stand up or back down…it doesn’t really matter as long as you’re aware. For an aware person life can really blow. Its easy to meander through life, brainless, thoughtless…you’ll never be alone, but you’ll never be aware either. To be aware, frequently means to be alone. But it also means to reap everything out of life. The flowers blossom differently when you are aware. The snow ceases to fall gently when you are aware. Colors are even more vibrant. Its this insane ecstasy, to be aware…just as beautiful and just as addictive. The Aware taste and crave more and more of this cognizant life and turn to things like drugs and poetry. Drugs and poetry are nothing more or less than the embodiment of artificial life. But when life isn’t enough or when being aware seems to lose its high, than what choice do you have but to turn to art and hallucinogens?
Artists go mad, philosophers kill themselves. Is this a lack of life? Or an overdose? How do we maintain life without over or under indulging? …Is that even possible?!
“If you’re missing me one place, search another.” Well, I’m sure one day I’ll wind up where the rest of them are. I’ll be just as old, just as tired and just as burned out. But, is it not, after all, better to burn out than to fade away?
I guess all things end…at the beginning.