Chapter 1
Three memories haunt me like the vision of the man at the stairs in the movie poster for “The Exorcist”, meaning, they just stay there in my mind.
I guess haunted would be the wrong word to use to describe them. The three all represent failure of some sort, but they also represent hope. Why those three memories have stuck, I do not know. They are all of the same person. All from a time in my life when I have almost no memories. And they all bring smiles and melancholy when I think about them, even almost 30 years later.
The person in them is a girl. Her name is Heather. She was quite possibly the root of all my insanity. Not for anything she did, at least that I can remember. Instead, for the sheer magnitude of importance that I placed on her existence at a very young age.
I knew her, or knew of her at least, for three years. First grade. Second grade. And third grade. I don’t remember talking to her. Or hanging out with her. Nothing. But recent revelations about places I’d been and things I said would certainly not rule out that any of those things actually happened at some point. Maybe even in lots of detail. Probably not, however.
Those years of my life were kind of strange. Setting a tone, I believe, for the rest of them to follow.
I was labeled “smart” early on. And it turned out, I was much smarter than almost all my classmates at the large brick monstrosity of a school that I attended, old and full of rot, this thing was built right after World War I. It doesn’t exist anymore, but that’s ok.
My schooling started at a different school. Why? Because mom taught at the elementary school I was supposed to go to, and she did not want me to have the other kindergarten teacher because she sucked. So, I went to a school actually closer to my house, but not the one I was supposed to go to.
I have one memory of that school. Being in the field beside the school during recess. One guy had just bought Zips shoes. In the commercial, the kid who is wearing them can do all sorts of incredible things. One of them is to leap over a large bush. Well, the kid who got the shoes is bragging he can now do all of those things. Me, being the smartass I was, and still am, pointed at a bush in the yard. It was probably three foot tall, but I am remembering it from a kindergarteners perspective, so I could have been inches tall.
“Jump that, Derek!” I exclaimed.
The kid looked at me with shock. He ended up being the quarterback of the high school football team, but then, he was just a little kid.
“I, I, I, can’t do that,” he said.
“But you said you could do what the guy in the commercial does!” I yelled, puffing my chest in superiority. I had a problem with that as a kid.
“Um. Ok. I’ll try.” Derek finally said.
I was shocked. He’s actually going to do it?
Well, Derek ran right at the thing, leaped in the air and landed squarely in the bush. Got stuck even.
A teacher saw all of this. She rushed over.
“Why did you do that Derek?” she shrieked. Derek had ripped his pants a little and also had a little trickle of blood running down his arm from a branch or something cutting him.
“Randy told me to do it,” he whimpered pointing at me.
I was smiling. Looking around at all the kids. They were looking at me too. I wanted it to be awe. Well, whatever feeling a kindergartener would call it. Instead, they gave me looks of scorn.
“He did do that,” one girl said.
“It’s Randy’s fault!” a fat boy said with enthusiasm.
“Randy, did you tell Derek to do that?”
“Well, he said he could do it, because he’s got Zips on. I wanted to let him know that they really couldn’t give you powers like on TV.”
“Now Randy, you should know better than that. Derek was just proud of his new shoes.”
I looked at Derek. He was crying a little. He smiled at me when the teacher turned her back, sticking out his tongue. Round 1 went to me. Round 2 to Derek. I don’t remember if there was a Round 3. Unless being the school jock in high school was his victory dance. I played soccer. Not a lot of fans of soccer back then. Especially females. This was the South in the 1970s and 1980s, you’ll have to remember.
The next year, I was with a whole other batch of kids at the brick school.
That’s where I met Heather. I guess.
Showing posts with label heather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heather. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Friday, November 5, 2010
Cusack Cliche
Rewind. Play. Pause. Play. Rewind. Play.
My life is a VHS tape. Bought brand new, watched over and over, then put on a shelf or in a box when DVDs came out. But then, I became retro-cool for a little while. The bumps and blips in the tape were character, not flaws.
I so need to be on the road right now. I’m not sad by the same things anymore. Just in general. And that’s no good. It will only lead me to one thing -- drinking. And I don’t want to feel that way. I like drinking. I always will. I won’t ever stop completely. Unless I become Mickey Mantle or something. However, I don’t want to drink because I feel it’s the only thing left.
That pit sucks. I spent too many years there. Some of those were even happy ones. I just kept drinking then because it was habit. Much like being unhappy becomes a habit. Surround yourself with guilt. With pain. With hatred. You’ll be there too. Please don’t join me.
The path out of that place is easy. All you have to do is do it. It really is that simple. Always has been. You pop out of the hole, you’re not in the hole. But your mind can put you right back in it.
Yesterday, I realized how happy I was just driving to a new place. Even though it was a place I’d pass, shit, 125 times or so going to work five times a week. Then you multiply that by going past it twice a day, and it becomes something that isn’t new. Except it was. That ability to find something interesting out of nothing has been missing too long.
Yeah, it comes back for little bits sometimes. But never stays. I want to make it stay. Grab a hold of that feeling. Of that ability. Of that desire. And not let it get away. So, I’m forcing myself to do it. So far, every day has been interesting. But, it’s only been three. Today is the fourth. I’m sure I’ll hit a snag at some point. The “woah is me” will appear and I’ll want to sit on my ass and cry about it.
Hopefully, I won’t fall for that again.
Sorry for diary-ing this writing session. While everything that comes out of my fingers as some point of reference in my real life, even the incredibly sick stuff, which there hasn’t been much of -- yet -- I don’t want it to turn into a journal. I already have one of those. Hell, if you count the print one’s I’ve got dozens. Not as many as before “the purge” but eh, why bring that bitch up?
Sad songs that had really harsh emotions attached to them haven’t been raw lately. I think I mentioned this already. My memory ain’t what it used to be. And it never was very good. It’s also selective. Which is worse than being completely absent-minded. Believe me. The arguments and shitty days and nights that come about because of a simple “oops, forgot to ask” moment are too many to list.
I learned a new word today: Cupidity. I had no idea it existed. It seems like it should be the combination of cupid and stupidity. A sort of Love Stinks summed up in just one word, and two less letters. Or how stupid it is to fall in love too easily, maybe…That guy, he’s full of cupidity. I do think I tend to fall in love too easily. But usually, the conversation doesn’t last. But when it does, it is great. Until it ends. And so far, they’ve all ended.
I look at my facebook page. There are a few people who married their high school sweethearts on there. Some made it, some didn’t. I wonder about those that did make it. They’ve never experience heartbreak. I can’t imagine that. I think back through my life, and I’ve seemingly always been dealing with it. I mean I was 11 connecting with “Somebody’s Babe” by Jackson fucking Browne. Pining for a girl that I’d fallen for in third grade, then seen twice over the next three years. Then lastly when I was 13. Who does that? John Cusack clichés, that’s who. Ha. Cusack Cliché. Good band name.
Anyways, I found that girl on facebook too. Damn facebook. At least Emily’s not on there. But back to the other. She’s married, apparently. And, she lived just a county over all those years of pining. I kind of figured that, since I kept seeing her. But I never saw her after 13. And I was at her school. I have this vague recollection of hearing her name or something at a soccer match at her school my senior year. But I wrote it off as a dream sequence.
Ha. I’m insane.
Always have been obsessively compulsed to chase the unobtainable. I’m the dog without a tail, but still chasing it.
My life is a VHS tape. Bought brand new, watched over and over, then put on a shelf or in a box when DVDs came out. But then, I became retro-cool for a little while. The bumps and blips in the tape were character, not flaws.
I so need to be on the road right now. I’m not sad by the same things anymore. Just in general. And that’s no good. It will only lead me to one thing -- drinking. And I don’t want to feel that way. I like drinking. I always will. I won’t ever stop completely. Unless I become Mickey Mantle or something. However, I don’t want to drink because I feel it’s the only thing left.
That pit sucks. I spent too many years there. Some of those were even happy ones. I just kept drinking then because it was habit. Much like being unhappy becomes a habit. Surround yourself with guilt. With pain. With hatred. You’ll be there too. Please don’t join me.
The path out of that place is easy. All you have to do is do it. It really is that simple. Always has been. You pop out of the hole, you’re not in the hole. But your mind can put you right back in it.
Yesterday, I realized how happy I was just driving to a new place. Even though it was a place I’d pass, shit, 125 times or so going to work five times a week. Then you multiply that by going past it twice a day, and it becomes something that isn’t new. Except it was. That ability to find something interesting out of nothing has been missing too long.
Yeah, it comes back for little bits sometimes. But never stays. I want to make it stay. Grab a hold of that feeling. Of that ability. Of that desire. And not let it get away. So, I’m forcing myself to do it. So far, every day has been interesting. But, it’s only been three. Today is the fourth. I’m sure I’ll hit a snag at some point. The “woah is me” will appear and I’ll want to sit on my ass and cry about it.
Hopefully, I won’t fall for that again.
Sorry for diary-ing this writing session. While everything that comes out of my fingers as some point of reference in my real life, even the incredibly sick stuff, which there hasn’t been much of -- yet -- I don’t want it to turn into a journal. I already have one of those. Hell, if you count the print one’s I’ve got dozens. Not as many as before “the purge” but eh, why bring that bitch up?
Sad songs that had really harsh emotions attached to them haven’t been raw lately. I think I mentioned this already. My memory ain’t what it used to be. And it never was very good. It’s also selective. Which is worse than being completely absent-minded. Believe me. The arguments and shitty days and nights that come about because of a simple “oops, forgot to ask” moment are too many to list.
I learned a new word today: Cupidity. I had no idea it existed. It seems like it should be the combination of cupid and stupidity. A sort of Love Stinks summed up in just one word, and two less letters. Or how stupid it is to fall in love too easily, maybe…That guy, he’s full of cupidity. I do think I tend to fall in love too easily. But usually, the conversation doesn’t last. But when it does, it is great. Until it ends. And so far, they’ve all ended.
I look at my facebook page. There are a few people who married their high school sweethearts on there. Some made it, some didn’t. I wonder about those that did make it. They’ve never experience heartbreak. I can’t imagine that. I think back through my life, and I’ve seemingly always been dealing with it. I mean I was 11 connecting with “Somebody’s Babe” by Jackson fucking Browne. Pining for a girl that I’d fallen for in third grade, then seen twice over the next three years. Then lastly when I was 13. Who does that? John Cusack clichés, that’s who. Ha. Cusack Cliché. Good band name.
Anyways, I found that girl on facebook too. Damn facebook. At least Emily’s not on there. But back to the other. She’s married, apparently. And, she lived just a county over all those years of pining. I kind of figured that, since I kept seeing her. But I never saw her after 13. And I was at her school. I have this vague recollection of hearing her name or something at a soccer match at her school my senior year. But I wrote it off as a dream sequence.
Ha. I’m insane.
Always have been obsessively compulsed to chase the unobtainable. I’m the dog without a tail, but still chasing it.
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