The year that my family moved to Washington from California, I was discovered as a writer. Well, sort of. There was a contest at the school to write a short story and have it ‘published’ and be a guest at the young writers conference. I always knew I enjoyed writing and people would praise me for what I did, even as a really young kid. I tried to start writing a book when I was about seven years old. It was ‘Dale and Mark’s Big Adventure.’ Of course being that young a few pages seemed epic, but I really wanted to do it. To my dismay, the draft I had disappeared.
Anyways, my story won a spot at the young writers conference. My story was being proofread, copied and bound into several copies that I could distribute to people. It was really a small thing, but I was a bit overwhelmed by the attention I got for such a lame story. It was about a doctor that dropped something on a patients head and it became some sort of scandal. Nothing a typical nine year old should be writing about but it was written and people liked it.
I used to write some blogs on MySpace when that was all the craze. One of the comments I got from someone was ‘you missed your calling, you should have been a writer.’ I’m in no way a literary genius but I think I have a hidden desire to communicate wholly what’s in my head into written form. Over the years I’ve obviously lost form and function with my writing.
My family took a trip to San Diego to see my grandparents one summer. It was the year that I was just starting to read and I was being shown off to the grandparents about how well I was doing. They opened up an encyclopedia and had me read some random article. I kept going and going and the only thing I remember from that time is my parents chuckling while I was reading and then all of a sudden the book was ripped from my hands and I was told to go outside and play. I’d get bitch slapped if I spoke back, but that really pissed me off.
I guess some of the things that have happened to me as a kid have really carried over to my adult life. I never realized or admitted it as I was growing up. Not even in my teens and twenties because obviously I knew everything when I was that age and I was better than ‘childhood issues.’ My missing story, the laughing stock of a family get together and even the snickering about my dramatic story that won me a contest seems to be behind my hesitation. It seems to me that my life is a joke to some people.
A realization I’ve discovered in myself is that it’s usually the people that can or are threatened by my presence that have issue with the way I am. That realization is merely from a process of elimination. I noticed that people who genuinely care about me as a person, make me feel good about anything I do and don’t judge me. Comments I hear in regards to my character don’t bother me any more. I do however dwell on it because I wonder what I can do different in my life to contribute to the healing of ignorance. Apparently nothing at this point.
For prom, I took my date to the restaurant in a limo, and had a seaplane waiting on the dock outside to take us back to the school. How cool is that? Without over analyzing it, people were in fact jealous. I didn’t do it because I was planning on getting a piece of ass. I never did to be honest. I did it because when I rid myself of judgement, I do what I feel like doing. The girl I took was Richelle, the one I got robbed with. She’s happily married now, but one thing I remember her saying was that she wants to be witness to me proposing to my future wife. I have abnormal ways of showing affection. Stay tuned to my blog for the pearls story…
I mentioned the story above because she’s one of those people that truly care. Not because she’s obligated to, but because she has something inside her that few have. She is among the ranks of truly non-judge mental people in my life. Even though i did something over the top for a simple date, she didn’t think less of me or see me as desperate or crazy. I mentioned the seaplane and proposal thing, because just like my writing, I have hang-ups in my life. Things I do for others are typically viewed as corny or unnecessary. Why make a grand proposal? Why write moving pieces? Why not just do what everyone else is comfortable with? I can feel my anger well up right now because the opinions I have about mediocrity piss me off…
I feel I owe the world around me more than self centered accomplishments. Cool, I can quit drinking (for a while), go to the gym, open a restaurant, get my pilots license, travel the world, make some money, get good grades in school, or even write a blog for a year. So what? how can i take all the things I’ve done and turn it into something truly worthwhile? Though the blog is for me, it’s really because I want to give something, anything, to others. Maybe when this year is up ill have found a better answer for what I should do. Given my track record however, it’s a long shot.
I know I need to take care of myself in order to be able to take care of others but I feel like we all waste a lot of resources when we could be making this world a better place. Or is this world even worth trying to save? I think it’s in all of us to want something a little better no matter where we are at. I used to feel bad for jumping around in my life, but it has made me who I am whether people like me or not. Just as it would be irresponsible to commit to a one night stand, I think it would be irresponsible to settle for less than extraordinary when it comes to what we do with our time on earth.