The last day of 2005. It’s supposed to feel different, I think. I was hoping to wake up today with some revelation, but, alas, nothing. Hopefully, something will come tonight. The day is young, and I’m about to blow up, in the figurative sense.
Last night was my uncle cliff’s 46th birthday. I know my dad was lookin’ on us with smiles. 17 peeps celebrated the life of Cliff over tequila shots and margaritas at La Fuente, which was off the chains!! Later I went to Jeremy and Caitlyn’s new house, saw kyle and Karin, Wahn and Sckleiks, Chuck and freakin’ Jason Crantz… we hit up the bars after a couple mean games of poker and presidents, and my dart game was on point. I slept until 1pm. My little dog, Taylor, woke me up. She does this funny thing where she scratches on my door when she thinks I have had enough sleep. The minute I let her in, she comes tearing through my room, hunting for socks and kisses. More often then not, she finds both… usually by distracting me with the latter. The truth is, I’ll always be a better wrestler than her though… Mom brought home a giant sub sandwich from Cousin’s Subs for me, and I thought that was mighty positive. Then, I watched Arizona beat UW in double overtime. Pretty tight game. Bradon Roy blew up and hit TWO at-the-buzzer 3-pointers to take the game into overtime and then double overtime, but AZ pulled out the upset in the end, 96-95. Next up, go Ducks! I like the parity in the Pac-10. Then I hit up the gym, saw some peeps and finalized the ridiculousness for tonight’s festivities. It’s on.
Latest book I’ve finished this break: “The Secret Life of Ivan Osokov” by who?, yep, you guessed it: P.D. Ouspenksy. The book is the only novel ever written by my favorite philosopher. I liked it very much, and it was a quick read. It put me somewhere between Gurdjieff and Jorge Luis Borges. It helped me question some things, but most of all, I found words for a lot of otherwise inarticulate sensations.
CD getting the most airtime these days: “Voices in Your Head” by “Undermind & G_Force”. It’s so tight. Blessed be the one who turned me on to it. Chill. And right on.
I’m in my basement. This is where all of my child hood memories at the house took place, more or less. Here lies all the childhood toys i’ve ever had. All the legos, the he-man figures, my kites, my starwars battleships, my rollerblades, puzzles, notebooks. All of my video games, squirt guns, national geographic magazines. I look around and I can see baskets of lanyard, all of my sister’s barbies, space man boots, micro-machines, cub scout derby cars, and regatta boats. Old shirts hang on old hangers, and glow in the dark moons and stars cling to the walls. I’m 24 years old…. almost a quarter of a century. But! I still wanna play with them all. I could build a lego castle right now that would make people’s jaw drop! What used to be wide open carpet space to ‘play,’ is now an old table with an even older computer on it. It can’t even read most email attachments, so it’s virtually worthless. But I keep it real. This is the only time I’ll use the internet at my house. I try not to touch anything here anymore, mostly because I don’t feel allowed or invited. Plus, the house is so caught up on never changing that everything here is severely outdated anyways. The irony is that I could single-handedly bring everything into the 21st century, but I’ve lost much of my appetite for allegience. All the old stuffed animals, my first dartboard, and more card games than you can imagine. A glow-in-the-dark creepy-crawler-making machine, my old stereo, old umbrellas and old blankets. Old couches, and an old train set… packed up and put away. An old ping pong table cluttered with boxes so as to make space. Oh, the fun we used to have. It’s just a room full of artifacts now. A room full of what used to be. Old crafts, old masks, old laughs. Crayons, chalk, markers… All run down and worn out. I remember my little fingers pushing their weight to paper and to popsicle sticks and to sidewalks. Time sure changes. We don’t forget, we just don’t remember. Remembering keeps you honest. Keeps you thankful. Keeps you trill.
I used to build forts down here, and re-arrange stuff. I’d sneak friends over when my dad was away and we’d play like my life depended on it. The phone just rang. The same old phone that has always been down here. It must be a hundred years old. It’s the perfect shade of 1950’s yellow/green and has one of those obnoxious rings that’s piercing and redundant. I miss it, though. It used to always ring for me. All my friends had it memorized, and I would spend HOURS on the phone in my junior high days. Now, I hit my head on the lights that hang from the ceiling, and I’m reminded of my age.
I think it’s good to remember the passage of time. My mom asked me what I want to do with my future, and I told her that it’s hard enough to live in the present. I insist that this is as philosophical as I’ll ever get…. living in the present. Key word: live. I’m not talking about ‘being’ in the present. That’s to easy, and everyone is doing it. But to actually live in the present is a bit more challenging than all of us realize. The grow and breathe, and change in the now. To love and to strive and to sacrifice in the now…. ooh, it sends chills down my spine. I will never abandon the infinite moment of now. It’s too big, and too vast, and we can’t overlook or control or run from it. In these ways we lose our chance for peace.
And with that, I step into a night that will carry me into my 25th year of life. Here’s to another quarter century of good fortune and good health and good times.
(breathe).
Schliecher’s house. Wahn and Erik are watching 21 grams. I’m at the computer for the first time in a week, wearing the same clothes I partied in last night. Not in the most ideal setting for sitting and deliberating, but I’m feeling generally relieved for the first time in months. I’ve been blessed with good family and good cheer, and have spent my last few days spreading holiday mirth in a very typical wisconsin winter wonderland way. Snow on the ground. Blue skies above. And that familiar chill from the evening air that sends a slight tingle down your spine and into your soul. The nostalgia is refreshing…
I could talk a bit about my family, and about the implications of this being the most ackward christmas celebration ever. I could talk about the angelic proportions with which my mother seems to carry herself around this time of year, and about the general joy she brings to all she greets. I could talk about the Bell Family side of things, and about my slow but rewarding re-emergence with a family that finds its strength in its ability to love. I could talk about my amazing high school friends, about the drinking games, about the poker tables, and about the dartboard competitions. About all the television I’ve recently been watching, and about the demise of the packer franshise. I could tell stories of our new family dog, and of her loveful nature. New Year’s is going to be off the chains, and I could very well talk about that too… but the truth is, I don’t know what to say. I’m stuck… and I have all of this philosophical residue from the year that has immobilized my thinking… Earlier I said that i was generally relieved, but I think I meant that the stress of it all is of little concern to me now.
To be honest, I’m not quite sure what’s up. I’m just a drifter, I guess. Patiently watching from the outside, looking in. Here or there, it’s all the same. DIfferent people, same stories. Different locations, same place. It’s all so overwhelming. Everywhere I look, people are painful. Ok, that’s a lie. Many have the special ability to be shiny, radiant gems that inspire and motivate us. But, what I mean to say, is that the painful is never hard to find if you look close enough, and if you think about it long enough. I’m talking in abstracts. I recognize this. But for me, it is meditational. I just wish I had some answers. Instead, I have only ears, and so I listen. That’s simply it: I come home, and I listen.
In fact, I almost feel so distrusted in my own home, that I am reduced to nothing more than this. Aww, who am I kidding? It’s not my home at all. My home begins at the end of the driveway. The minute I cross into the street, I get to be me again.
He was going to be all that a mortal could be…
No one should be kinder nor braver than he…
Tomorrow;
A friend who was troubled and weary he knew
Who’d be glad for a lift and who needed it, too;
On him he would call and see what he could do…
Tomorrow;
Each morning he stacked up the letters he’d write…
And thought of the folks he would fill with delight…
Tomorrow;
It was too bad, indeed, he was busy today,
And hadn’t a minute to stop on his way;
“More time I’ll have to give others,” he say…
“Tomorrow.”
The greatest of workers this man would have been…
The world would have known him had he ever seen…
Tomorrow;
But the fact is he died, and he faded from view,
And all that he left here when living was through,
Was a mountain of things he intended to do…
Tomorrow.
-Anonymous
“You may know me. I’m your constant companion.
I’m your greatest helper. I’m your heaviest burden.
I will push you onward or drag you down to failure.
I am at your command.
You may run me for profit, or you may run me to ruin.
It makes no difference. Be easy with me,
and I will destroy you. Be firm with me, and
I will put the world at your feet.”