There are many feelings I need to convey. About a certain time or a certain place. That moment of discovery, or even self-actualization. The excitement, the trauma, the slow-burning sorrow. I've tried different angles and have used various devices in hopes to make people understand. But often times I become frustrated with the end result. Because how can dialect and memory ever hope to fully articulate human drama? Either way, it appears that our need to share often transcends our inabilities. The experiences that become a part of you- you?ll spend the rest of your life hoping to attain the craft to help others recreate an accurate portrayal of what you felt.
I love the idea of a 'zine; a personalized valentine from me to you. An intimate way to convey a message, to share an idea, or to tell a story. You can present it however you'd like. Provide your own narrative, or wring out your dirty laundry. All calculated to your desire. But you cannot control how others will interpret what you do, and I guess there's beauty in that.
In my mid 20's, I'm finding myself stuck in between adulthood and immaturity. My perception of what an adult is, is putting to rest the notion that life is fair or that things balance out in the end. And I also think part of being an adult is one's ability to filter out the nuances of everyday life and learning how to keep a stiff upper life when things go wrong. However, (more so in the past few years) I've had an insatiable urge to share what's on my mind, to express myself, or to lament on about some sentimental story that might or might not mean anything to the person on the receiving end. This desire leaves me feeling anything but an adult.
However, I?m ready to throw out the old adage, even if it means staying a boy. Because I want to curb away from the inevitable mid-life crisis. Because, perhaps embracing the child in us is the most adult thing that we can do. And maybe embracing and exploring those issues that often leave us bitter and cynical if left unsettled, are the essential keys to being a well adjusted adult.
* * *
A while back I met up with some friends at an after show get-together, at my friend's apartment. A girl, affectionately known within her circle of friends as Machine Gun, had a grandparent pass away that very same day. It was the first time she had lost a loved one, and she wondered aloud "Why does everyone keep looking at me like I pooped my pants?" Machine Gun and I took shots of rum together as she seemed to be holding up better than most. Everyone deals with death differently.
I sat next to Bozton Rob and we talked about girls and getting high. Rob's the kind of guy that I wish I could be; talented, handsome, someone everyone wants to be around, and quite the ladies man. I'm always trying to corrupt him in some way. Doing my best to secure the title of "sketchy college dropout". Katie joins us on the couch.
"Katie, you get drunk every night. Why wont'you smoke with us sometime?" I tease her.
"Hey, I didn't get drunk last night." She replies.
"Ah yes, that is true. But seriously, you should try it at least once. It's not that bad. Everything slows down and your thoughts disappear." I'm not sure when I became a spokesman for High Times, but I won't let it die. "When I'm high I can totally assimilate the past and remember things that I totally forgot about of my childhood." Jesus! I turn to Rob for his approval, but he stares straight ahead. Rob is usually a happy-go-lucky guy, but tonight he just looks defeated. I've seen him like this before, off in his own little world. I always assumed that he was happy, on the grounds that he had something that I wanted.
"You forget about your past, you lose touch with reality." Rob says, staring straight ahead.
"Wow, Rob. That shit is deep. Huh. Yeah, I can see what you mean." I take another shot with Machine Gun and refocus on happy thoughts. Cigarette smoke and dark, abrasive music fills out the room. Alexa and I bring our feet out and set them on the coffee table for examination. A few nights earlier, we were drunk and decided to go sledding down a flight of stairs. I broke a toe and she broke her foot.
"Are any of these people your true friends? Will they be there when things go bad?" Rob whispers in my ear.
"Rob! My brains are going to implode!" I reply. When did Rob become so dark, I ask myself?
"Just think about that for a while. Do any of these people truly give a shit about you?" he says.
These little nuggets of philosophical insight pull me into a direction I've been avoiding for the past couple months.
Regaining focus, I join in on a conversation with the party's host, Matt about being infidelity. "Being cheated on is the worst thing you can do to someone," he says. Unfortunately when he says things like "I hate that bitch," everyone in the room knows precisely who Matt is referring to.
"Are these people your real friends?" Rob says again.
"I hate how everyone says 'Channing isn"t a player.'" I blurt out.
"What do you mean?" asks Machine Gun.
"Well, I was at a party the other night and I overheard a couple girls saying that I wasn't a "player", and it kinda bothered me. I guess people have always said that about me. It's like...it means that only girls looking for a long, serious relationship are going to approach me. But I'm not sure I'm interested in anything long term at this point in my life." Christ! "I understand that I'm not one-night stand material, but-"
"Sleeping around is not all that it's cracked out to be." Rob joins the fray. "You'll always end up feeling like a piece of shit."
"Well, I don't want to be like, a total male slut, or anything like that." I defend.
"Trust me, dude. It doesnt'matter if you're drunk or you never see that person again, you're still connected to them in some way. You'll always have a bond."
Rob and I proceed to talk about the past, as he expressed the concern that he didn't feel connected to the person he used to be, and that he wanted to change some of his negative behavior and reconnect to the past. Fair enough. His desire to find out his true friends is commendable and I hope he thinks well of me. As much as I understand where Rob might be coming from, I must say that I'm heading in the opposite direction. I've started socializing, hanging out, and partying again. I've been content with meeting new people and making friends, regardless if they'll be there in the end or not. Because there rarely is anyone left in the end, anyways. And as far as reverting to the past, I'm not sure stepping back is the best thing for myself. I rarely find the answers that I like or am hoping to find. Besides, how can I change the past? Can what I do in the future change the past?
There?s an old clich� that states the past never changes. But the reality of events can be altered by how they are vindicated by how the future plays itself out. Reality isn't static. What can change is how we see certain events from the past, and what they come to mean to us, regardless of what the original event meant at the time of its conception. For example: when my mother passed away suddenly, at that moment in time I had seen it as the worst thing to happen to me in my life. But if it wouldn't have happened, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have learned many valuable life lessons, have ended up in college, living where I am now, or wouldn't have turned out to be an arguably well-adjusted adult. When I think about my mom passing away, in the context of how things have turned out, my perception of the past has changed a great deal. I finally can accept the incident as something that turned my life around and made me a better person, with a future. Not just a tragedy I'm associated with. But its taken time to find resolution, and I think finding ways to discuss or even writing about certain things that troubles us is the most affable way to finding understanding.
I'm tired of the past, but I recognize the importance of dealing with issues that don't go away unless you meet them head on.
So with that said, here's to the story that has haunted you your whole life. Those mistakes you've made, the traumas and tragedies you've never been able to live down. Those issues that kill you slowly, robbing your spirit. Share them. Your darkest secret? Expose it. Because nothing is too horrible, too human to digest.