So few days of Virginia left, and i already know that i will miss the few accomplishments i achieved here. The cute critters that wander the yards. I can't say for sure if i will miss the Atlantic, i didn't get to know her enough unlike my beloved Pacific, but i suspect somewhere along the blurred line of my retrospect vision there might be a glint of nostalgia for her one day. I will miss the people i met, even if i can't remember near half of the conversations we had or their names. The warm sudden rains, to the cold that tries its most to take your noes but can't reach the depth of frost it would need to do so. I will miss my bar, with one of the best Reuben sandwiches i have had and the always changing stock of beers. I miss my roommate Telly and our sometimes snarky eye to the world.
But mostly i will miss those enchanting firefly filled summer nights.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
Pre-departure Syndrome
I have no more than three weeks left here in Virginia and i can tell there will be a melancholy scarf to hang on my neck; which i find odd in a small way. There wasn't a lot i did here, or accomplished, in fact most of if was idle time, but i think i might have stumbled on what it is that paints the bittersweet departure. When i "graduated" 8th grade and was ready to move on to High School, i remember on the last day of Elementary school i was excited, looking forward to school after summer had finished and my childhood freedom was once again returned to the state. As i walked home i made sure to not look back, somehow this little act at that young age was a trend i would continue for awhile intentionally or not, but there in the late June sun i told myself to not look back at what had been my first two years of living in a new town, where i made new friends and started my life in said town for the next 20 years.
When high school had ended and i made the walk back to the very same house i returned to after 8th grade, i didn't look back at the grounds then either. But both times there was a sting of regret, happiness, confusion, and zeal; which i have come to learn is simply described as: bittersweet. When i left California, my family, and my friends a little over a year ago no such sting showed, for i had made sure to squeeze out every enjoyment with everyone in the 6 months before i left; i didn't just left the golden years go by unbeknownst, i knew i was in them. So for my final days in California there was no need to look back, i didn't even think about it, my excitement to get on the plane and land in my new home was a pull strong enough to leave all longing at the sliding door that lead into the airport.
But now, with only three weeks left before i leave Virginia, possibly forever, i can detect that excitement and particular sadness that comes with knowing that life and I will be moving on and i know why. When i left 8th grade and high school i knew there would be a good number of people that i would never in my life see again. And there is someone here in Virginia that has a high probability i may never see again. That is Chantelle, my surrogate sister. The women i have known to close to eleven years and have i lived with for nearly more than half that time. The sting is back, knowing one of the few women that i love with no sexual intent but purely as devoted protection, may leave my life. Sure, we will my stay in contact but we both know in a room next to each other sharing words, laughs and insults is our truest form.
To be absent from that presents of someone i feel at ease around is a lose not so great as to cry, but smile as i lament the possibility there may never be a time again when we are shoulder to shoulder judging our immediate world in front of us just for the laughs. When her and i say our farewells, the world will be a little less funny.
When high school had ended and i made the walk back to the very same house i returned to after 8th grade, i didn't look back at the grounds then either. But both times there was a sting of regret, happiness, confusion, and zeal; which i have come to learn is simply described as: bittersweet. When i left California, my family, and my friends a little over a year ago no such sting showed, for i had made sure to squeeze out every enjoyment with everyone in the 6 months before i left; i didn't just left the golden years go by unbeknownst, i knew i was in them. So for my final days in California there was no need to look back, i didn't even think about it, my excitement to get on the plane and land in my new home was a pull strong enough to leave all longing at the sliding door that lead into the airport.
But now, with only three weeks left before i leave Virginia, possibly forever, i can detect that excitement and particular sadness that comes with knowing that life and I will be moving on and i know why. When i left 8th grade and high school i knew there would be a good number of people that i would never in my life see again. And there is someone here in Virginia that has a high probability i may never see again. That is Chantelle, my surrogate sister. The women i have known to close to eleven years and have i lived with for nearly more than half that time. The sting is back, knowing one of the few women that i love with no sexual intent but purely as devoted protection, may leave my life. Sure, we will my stay in contact but we both know in a room next to each other sharing words, laughs and insults is our truest form.
To be absent from that presents of someone i feel at ease around is a lose not so great as to cry, but smile as i lament the possibility there may never be a time again when we are shoulder to shoulder judging our immediate world in front of us just for the laughs. When her and i say our farewells, the world will be a little less funny.
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Ticking.
The official count down of Ness and i leaving Virginia and start anew in San Diego to wait out our last year in the States has begun. Japan is inking closer, yet somehow my enthusiasm hasn't jumped. Our days, these days, tend to be about more frequent chatting on about how we are going to clear the house and what we will be taking and when we should start packing, no action has been taken to actually do any of it as of yet. Mostly due to we don't leave for San Diego until August; so the rush of packing and moving is not needed.
What does have me excited is instead of boxing up our things, sending them to our new home (once we find a place) and then flying; is we plan to throw it all in a moving truck and driving across the country. An excursion i have never done before and one i am looking forward to, since it may be the only time in my life i get to do so. It's the great American road trip, wrote and romanticized by the first beatnik and Godfather of the counter-culture Jack Kerouac.
Heading off subject, or actually starting one; what is it about the road trip that entices American's so much? We have books about them and an over flowing catalog of movies that make them seem exciting and nearly romantic in the very act of moving across long spans of landscape and seeing sunsets over different mountains ranges other than the ones you grow up around. "To travel is joy. Passing witness of a rock, a river and a mountain in the beating heart of ones country is near the expression of love of seeing the adventure of life." A passage i once read in a book, who's title i have forgotten, yet i see what the author intended, but at the very heart: i don't. I lived in California, in the very middle of it and to get anywhere of real substance you will have to travel over an hour or three to get there. And i can say for myself only, that after the first thirty minutes i am already wishing our destination was closer. But i feel that is because i had been on those same roads numerous times. To this day i could drive from my hometown to my old home in Fremont without any reference as a map or a GPS, even if they changed the signs or closed down one of the major freeways, i could still manage to get there through other means than the main path. Digress.
Back when i traveled from CA to Salt Lake City for a wedding i was truly excited, for one at the time it was the furthest east i would have ever traveled, where before it was Death Valley. Once i had come down from the Sierra mountains and the long, lonely expanse of the desert opened up and then the ocean of the salt flats; i was ready to stop moving and just get to where we were going. I feel that somewhere on the road back to CA that will happen, that somewhere during our days on the road the excitement will cease and my longing to see the Pacific, to recognize her lovely curve of California's frame will grow to a thirst for our drive to end.
For man that has been waiting for more than two years to get things moving along; traveling is just more waiting, it may be waiting while moving forward, but i have seen the landscape, gazed at all the sights here it's time i see the next destination before we get to the last one.
What does have me excited is instead of boxing up our things, sending them to our new home (once we find a place) and then flying; is we plan to throw it all in a moving truck and driving across the country. An excursion i have never done before and one i am looking forward to, since it may be the only time in my life i get to do so. It's the great American road trip, wrote and romanticized by the first beatnik and Godfather of the counter-culture Jack Kerouac.
Heading off subject, or actually starting one; what is it about the road trip that entices American's so much? We have books about them and an over flowing catalog of movies that make them seem exciting and nearly romantic in the very act of moving across long spans of landscape and seeing sunsets over different mountains ranges other than the ones you grow up around. "To travel is joy. Passing witness of a rock, a river and a mountain in the beating heart of ones country is near the expression of love of seeing the adventure of life." A passage i once read in a book, who's title i have forgotten, yet i see what the author intended, but at the very heart: i don't. I lived in California, in the very middle of it and to get anywhere of real substance you will have to travel over an hour or three to get there. And i can say for myself only, that after the first thirty minutes i am already wishing our destination was closer. But i feel that is because i had been on those same roads numerous times. To this day i could drive from my hometown to my old home in Fremont without any reference as a map or a GPS, even if they changed the signs or closed down one of the major freeways, i could still manage to get there through other means than the main path. Digress.
Back when i traveled from CA to Salt Lake City for a wedding i was truly excited, for one at the time it was the furthest east i would have ever traveled, where before it was Death Valley. Once i had come down from the Sierra mountains and the long, lonely expanse of the desert opened up and then the ocean of the salt flats; i was ready to stop moving and just get to where we were going. I feel that somewhere on the road back to CA that will happen, that somewhere during our days on the road the excitement will cease and my longing to see the Pacific, to recognize her lovely curve of California's frame will grow to a thirst for our drive to end.
For man that has been waiting for more than two years to get things moving along; traveling is just more waiting, it may be waiting while moving forward, but i have seen the landscape, gazed at all the sights here it's time i see the next destination before we get to the last one.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
The "story" of us.
A chill still runs down my spine when i remember that kiss. And not the real one, but the one i dreamed up; the one i wished had happened, the one that was perfect, the one that had meant something if only that something was for research, the experiment used and done for a legitimate reason as research. But much like everything the fake one is far more remembered than the real; the one i asked for, the one i asked to have again to help describe to no one. The tale i remember around the real, is far more odd than what had happened.
But somehow, i do not regret the real. It's the dream that makes me not hate the real. We kissed, i asked for another in that moment to help describe it later; in that moment i left my eyes open to burn the segment into the forgettable part of my head.
I told the tale from the part i made up, but both the fictitious and the real stick with me. I would prefer that the tall tale i made for us would stick more.
I love the fake part of us.
But somehow, i do not regret the real. It's the dream that makes me not hate the real. We kissed, i asked for another in that moment to help describe it later; in that moment i left my eyes open to burn the segment into the forgettable part of my head.
I told the tale from the part i made up, but both the fictitious and the real stick with me. I would prefer that the tall tale i made for us would stick more.
I love the fake part of us.
Monday, December 30, 2013
It's something at least.
I had intentions to post something else here, something already prepared, written and even edited, but once i stepped back into this place (my computer screen) my mind thought of something else: "an update" on my actual life. So here it is as plain as it's going to get.
My thanksgiving was spent with Telly and Ness, as was my Christmas eve and day, on the Eve Telly played World or Warcraft and both watched as i tried to play Super Mario World and continuously die. We had a good laugh, one of the more satisfying Christmas Eve's i have spent in a long time. I do miss my family and friends in CA, but luckily it hasn't gotten any harder missing them, though it hasn't gotten easier.
After the New Year i plan to really buckle down on my schooling considering Japan has gotten closer with the very real possibility that Ness and i will be going. I try not to think about it too much during the day, for fear that i get my hopes up too much and have it fail; Ness reassures me that we are going, but the doubt is there. At night it is different, i dream of Japan right before sleep comes in. This troubled me when i first started these pages, as if i was casting a delusion on myself, but that has slipped away, now it feels more as if i am actually preparing my heart for the change, for the upcoming adventure.
The rest of the time is filled with waiting for Japan, work, playing video games, waiting for other games to come out, being silly with Telly, drinking with Ness and preparing for the move, at this stage it's just verbal planning and that's about it.
This year (2013) has been one of the more pleasurable years in a long, long, god awfully long time.
I feel pretty damn good.
My thanksgiving was spent with Telly and Ness, as was my Christmas eve and day, on the Eve Telly played World or Warcraft and both watched as i tried to play Super Mario World and continuously die. We had a good laugh, one of the more satisfying Christmas Eve's i have spent in a long time. I do miss my family and friends in CA, but luckily it hasn't gotten any harder missing them, though it hasn't gotten easier.
After the New Year i plan to really buckle down on my schooling considering Japan has gotten closer with the very real possibility that Ness and i will be going. I try not to think about it too much during the day, for fear that i get my hopes up too much and have it fail; Ness reassures me that we are going, but the doubt is there. At night it is different, i dream of Japan right before sleep comes in. This troubled me when i first started these pages, as if i was casting a delusion on myself, but that has slipped away, now it feels more as if i am actually preparing my heart for the change, for the upcoming adventure.
The rest of the time is filled with waiting for Japan, work, playing video games, waiting for other games to come out, being silly with Telly, drinking with Ness and preparing for the move, at this stage it's just verbal planning and that's about it.
This year (2013) has been one of the more pleasurable years in a long, long, god awfully long time.
I feel pretty damn good.
Friday, October 11, 2013
The terrible passing of time felt by a self-introverted moron.
As this year comes to a crawl of a close, still a few months away yet, but there is something slowly coming to the curtain call, and that is this current close on this generation of gaming consoles. Sure, you can give me your derision but i am a man that feels the passing of time should be marked by something, even if that mark is insignificant and moronic. Some people do it with big events, but for me; such a man that i am, games hold a fairly high regard in this aspect.
Yes, this generation of consoles have been the longest living as of date, but i feel that all of life should be marked by something, some do it by jobs, or marriage or kids, but the last great mark i had was graduating high school and the last generation of gaming consoles, such is the low of a man that doesn't do much. But the end of this era marks something within me. Something that not even i can scoff at. The end of this generation of gaming is; and even though i feel i had more fun on the previous generation, holds a regard i feel must be recorded here for all, but mostly likely just for myself; since i'm pretty sure i'm the only one that has ever and will ever read these pages. During the end of the PlayStation 2 era just when the wick was about done, i played some truly fantastic games. And i played those games with both Genesis and Mike in that ratty two bedroom apartment when time could be ignored and games and drinking were the norm for passing the time. Sure the next (at this time current) generation proved to be a little bit more oriented to getting more than one player on a game single game, but with the 360 and the Wii, i remember just being drunk and playing bowling or being up to the late hours of the night (or early morning) playing Call of Duty: World at War: Nazi Zombies with Genesis taking cigarette breaks and rethinking out strategy for the next time we beat our high score.
And these were great times. Greater than i had considered them of when i felt the loss of the American arcade. When arcades had come and gone, even in my early age there was a fair amount of lamenting, but it was never as deep seeded as this. The Wii, PS3 and 360 were, for me, held to a standard in which i formed many, many new friendships. I found new life in gaming in this generation and maybe that's all this is; an old man's (31) longing/feeling the passing of time. Lamenting for something once so loved.
But maybe it's just because i will no longer have those experiences with my two closes gamer friends, Genesis and Mike. My future could go either bleak or grand depending on how it goes from here. And it's that uncertainty that i dislike the most. Through games i miss my friends. Before, gaming was a singular experience with the three of us, but when were there, in that time, we had a real and just chance to do it together. Sure we might have failed a few times in that, but we still had games we had with each other. DQ9, or even Borderlands 1 and 2.
I will miss that time with an intensity no one that isn't a gamer would understand.
Yes, this generation of consoles have been the longest living as of date, but i feel that all of life should be marked by something, some do it by jobs, or marriage or kids, but the last great mark i had was graduating high school and the last generation of gaming consoles, such is the low of a man that doesn't do much. But the end of this era marks something within me. Something that not even i can scoff at. The end of this generation of gaming is; and even though i feel i had more fun on the previous generation, holds a regard i feel must be recorded here for all, but mostly likely just for myself; since i'm pretty sure i'm the only one that has ever and will ever read these pages. During the end of the PlayStation 2 era just when the wick was about done, i played some truly fantastic games. And i played those games with both Genesis and Mike in that ratty two bedroom apartment when time could be ignored and games and drinking were the norm for passing the time. Sure the next (at this time current) generation proved to be a little bit more oriented to getting more than one player on a game single game, but with the 360 and the Wii, i remember just being drunk and playing bowling or being up to the late hours of the night (or early morning) playing Call of Duty: World at War: Nazi Zombies with Genesis taking cigarette breaks and rethinking out strategy for the next time we beat our high score.
And these were great times. Greater than i had considered them of when i felt the loss of the American arcade. When arcades had come and gone, even in my early age there was a fair amount of lamenting, but it was never as deep seeded as this. The Wii, PS3 and 360 were, for me, held to a standard in which i formed many, many new friendships. I found new life in gaming in this generation and maybe that's all this is; an old man's (31) longing/feeling the passing of time. Lamenting for something once so loved.
But maybe it's just because i will no longer have those experiences with my two closes gamer friends, Genesis and Mike. My future could go either bleak or grand depending on how it goes from here. And it's that uncertainty that i dislike the most. Through games i miss my friends. Before, gaming was a singular experience with the three of us, but when were there, in that time, we had a real and just chance to do it together. Sure we might have failed a few times in that, but we still had games we had with each other. DQ9, or even Borderlands 1 and 2.
I will miss that time with an intensity no one that isn't a gamer would understand.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
The time rang
Easily...
It has been easily 10 years since the last time i felt jealous; of anything. Here i stand, sad and free and have that old demon squat on my shoulders. And i dont have any idea why he is back.
They aren't getting anything i have not experienced before, what they are expressing is not new to me, but my thoughts reflect that i wish for it again. To go through that emotional turmoil, to convey which i can not through words, but action. To tangle myself in another. To be free and bound.
I feel nauseous. It makes me nauseous. My god, i hate it. Have i not learned my lesson yet?
Can't i skip it? Can't this be past over?
I never get a second look. Just a bad, but fun-filled day. I smiled, i laughed, with everything i have, only to have it crash, and leave me with the pleasantness of a day well spent, and the sickness that i'm missing out on the important stuff.
Stuff, i gave up on; that i thought wasn't for me, that i thought i didnt need or want, but the brute of a sensation reminds me of what i cut off. The itch of a phantom limb.
Dislike fills me. I am suppose to not be this way, i ridicule those that have this reaction.
Fantastic, i am no better than they. The one and only thing i could hold up and say; the thing i was proud of; to find i am no better this one time. THIS one time, i am no better.
Have i really not learned my lesson? Can i not move on? i am continuously being forced to continue to go through this by those that don't romantically see me. Their selfishness stops my own selfishness.
The balance is off and the equivalent exchange is off by pounds, but i have to move; not forward just ahead. There is no destination for me in this. Just move along and just hope, and that is wearing very fuckin' thin.
It has been easily 10 years since the last time i felt jealous; of anything. Here i stand, sad and free and have that old demon squat on my shoulders. And i dont have any idea why he is back.
They aren't getting anything i have not experienced before, what they are expressing is not new to me, but my thoughts reflect that i wish for it again. To go through that emotional turmoil, to convey which i can not through words, but action. To tangle myself in another. To be free and bound.
I feel nauseous. It makes me nauseous. My god, i hate it. Have i not learned my lesson yet?
Can't i skip it? Can't this be past over?
I never get a second look. Just a bad, but fun-filled day. I smiled, i laughed, with everything i have, only to have it crash, and leave me with the pleasantness of a day well spent, and the sickness that i'm missing out on the important stuff.
Stuff, i gave up on; that i thought wasn't for me, that i thought i didnt need or want, but the brute of a sensation reminds me of what i cut off. The itch of a phantom limb.
Dislike fills me. I am suppose to not be this way, i ridicule those that have this reaction.
Fantastic, i am no better than they. The one and only thing i could hold up and say; the thing i was proud of; to find i am no better this one time. THIS one time, i am no better.
Have i really not learned my lesson? Can i not move on? i am continuously being forced to continue to go through this by those that don't romantically see me. Their selfishness stops my own selfishness.
The balance is off and the equivalent exchange is off by pounds, but i have to move; not forward just ahead. There is no destination for me in this. Just move along and just hope, and that is wearing very fuckin' thin.
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