Imparting Wisdom

Birthdays always bring on an unavoidable surge of nostalgia.  Ah.  Let’s look back at the last year and see what I’ve learned.  How I’ve grown.  Who I’ve met.  What experiences I’ve had.

Nah.  Let’s not. 

Let’s look at the past decade instead.

I obviously can’t speak for everyone who is making that strange transition from their teens, but for me the past ten years have been about one thing:

Making it sound like I knew what the fuck was going on.

Because, honestly, most of the time I didn’t have a clue.  Everyone seemed so sure of themselves while I sat there, smiling silently, secretly panicking that I was so far behind the others.  In everything.  In life.  In experiences.  In straight up knowledge; everyone seemed to know about everything.  How?  How did they do that so fast?  Was it while I was playing video games?  Goddamnit Mario.

But no.  I caught on.  I found out what was up.  And I started to do it too.  All those people didn’t really know everything about everything, they just acted like they did.

So I started to do the same thing.

I was confident about crap I knew literally nothing about.  Because you know what?  If you act like you know what you’re talking about, people believe you.  They don’t even think to question you.

“Well, he said it with a loud voice and his chest out…so cabbages must really make you taller!”

Don’t get me wrong here.  I didn’t lie.  Or at least, tried not to.  I presented whatever little information I had with confidence.  No one would ever know that past that seemingly proud kid’s exterior there was a terrified child sweating bullets as he tried to dig so deep to find something intelligent to say he felt as though he might pass out and lose his lunch…although probably not in that order.  That’d be impressive.  And messy.

It didn’t take away the fear that I should be learning more or having more experiences, but it damn sure put me on the same level as everyone else.  And you know what?  I bet they were all doing the same.  We were all in the same boat.

Faking it.

Fake it and people take you seriously.

People take you seriously and you get noticed.

Get noticed and you get yourself a job and maybe even a good education, further from those classrooms that teach the skill of number 2 pencil bubbling.  Not even the classroom education at all.  Something more meaningful.

And once you’re educated and have a steady job and maybe even a family,

Then you can slow down and actually try and figure out what the fuck is going on.

Or keep faking it.

‘Cause that’s probably what I’ll do.

Fiery Competition

A loud beeping permeates the thickening air as smoke seeps into the apartment from under the door.

“Your move.”

“I realize that.”

“Then move or forfeit.”

The detector continues to beep, sharp stabs of high-pitched wails filling the room.

“It’s been, like, fifteen seconds.  We agreed not to play speed chess after the ’08 bottle rocket incident.”

“It went off by accident.”

“Towards my face?”

“Yeah, Rob, towards your face.”

The wisps of gray air puffing through the door turn darker.

“And it wasn’t even the 4^th!  What were you doing with a bottle rocket?”

“Preparing for the 4^th.”

“It was February, man!”

 “I like to prepare early.”

Rob stands up with a frustrated grunt, coughing a little from the smoke.  He gets a chair from the kitchen and slams it down underneath the smoke detector.  In one quick motion he mounts the chair, rips the noisy culprit of his lost concentration from the ceiling, and tosses it over his shoulder.

“My hair caught on fire, Alan.” Rob sits back down in front of the board and slides his bishop across the playing field, knocking Alan’s knight onto the floor. “Your move.”

“Finally, Jesus.” Alan stretches down to recover his lost knight.  He has to wave his hand in front of him to clear some of the smoke. “And don’t do that,” he sputters.

“Don’t light my hair on fire!”

“That was three years ago, Rob, let it go!”

“Only if you let go of the fact that I,” Rob pauses to cover his mouth as a coughing fit interrupts him. “Kicked your ass and admit that you’re just a sore loser.”

The smoke bellowing in has turned a threatening black.  Alan grabs a flimsy couch cushion and waves it as the board, clearing the air for a moment.  He runs his hand on his chin as he thinks, concentration only disturbed by the occasional violent choking sound.  His eyes begin to water profusely as the air thickens around him again.  He waves the pillow up and down once more, making the board visible just long enough for him to make a confident move.  Between involuntary guttural noises he manages a smirk.

“Your move,” Alan chokes.

Rob tries to mimic him but only ends up doubled over, inhaling painfully. “I know,” he wheezes.

There are sudden hammering sounds coming from the door, which has been completely shrouded in smoke, along with most of the room.  The only identifiable point in the apartment comes from the intermittent waving of a cushion to make the board briefly visible.

The door, wherever it is, is kicked in, smacking the ground loudly and blasting a gust of air towards the players, clearing the chess board for a few moments.

“What are you doing?” The firefighter yells, his voice muffled by the mask and helmet and oxygen tank. “Get out of there!”

“I can’t understand you,” Rob yells over his shoulder. “But do that door thing again, that helped.”

“Let’s go!” Two firefighters stomped into the room, pulling on Rob and Alan’s arms.

“Wait!” Rob coughed, putting a hand up in the air. “I got it.” He struggles and breaks free of the firefighter’s grasp.  With the smoke quickly creeping back around the chess board, Rob plucks his queen from the far corner and plants her down confidently right in front of Alan’s king.

“Check mate,” he manages.  Then he turns to the baffled firefighter. “Okay, let’s go.  I’m pretty sure there’s a fire somewhere anyway.” 

The Hunger Games (was so damn good)

I don’t remember the last time a book had me turning the pages so unrelentingly fast.  The Hunger Games has owned my life for the past couple days, and I loved every second of it.

It was difficult to care about anything else besides what the next page had to say, and I found myself, even in the midst of other leisurely activities, drifting back to the land of Panem.

This is no stereotypical sci-fi romp.  This isn’t even a light, young adult fantasy story filled with magic and mystical creatures.

It is a cold, twisted tale that gets the heart pounding unlike anything I’ve read before.  It’s hard not to feel the emotions along with the narrator.  When she is thirsty, you are thirsty.  When she is afraid, you’re terrified with her.  And when the shock of several of the novel’s more unexpected surprises are revealed to her, your breath will catch in your throat.

You are essentially there, in the arena with Katniss, fighting to stay alive, fighting against twenty-three other kids who want, or rather, need to kill you in order to survive themselves.  All the feelings she has towards the others, be it a burning hatred or a confusing fondness, will be your own.

It may sound like I’m trying to sell this book or advertise for it or something, but really I just wanted to share my incredible experience so that maybe a few of you can have it too.

Now I’m on to the second one.  

So go read The Hunger Games, damnit! 

Unicycles and Other Shanigans (Not a Story, btw)

I told myself I wasn’t going to do the blog thing.  I was going to post stories and that was it.  Everyone and their grandmothers does the blog thing. 

But then my story output started to slow…

And my posts became less frequent…

So you know what? 

Screw it.

In between stories I’m gonna post whatever the hell I want.  Read it.  Don’t read it.  Point is, it’s going up.  And if someone somewhere gets some inspiration or enjoyment out of my mindless blabbering, rambling, and/or venting, then it’ll be more than worth it.

Hell, I write this stuff anyway and it just sits in my computer.

If Word Documents could gather dust, you could make little designs with your fingers in most of mine.

I was a weird kid. 

Okay, you got me – I am a weird kid. 

It’s not that I’m particularly fond of sucking jell-o through a straw or have some freaky fetish having to do with vanilla cream scented candles, just that I was never part the normal crowd that did normal things.  I always had some strange hobby I was pursuing with unusually relentless vigor, or an odd talent I was trying to master.  Typically these were little parlor tricks I found really really awesome for about a week, learned to do them decently well, and then moved on to the next one.  If you know me at all you understand what I mean.  For a while I was pretty into unicycle archery…

But just recently I think I discovered why I do these things, and why I get so into them.

They are distractions. 

These seemingly unimportant hobbies are secretly some of the most important things in my life, and, I believe, in anyone’s life.

Because, when I’m climbing or playing some instrument or balancing on a thin strip of bouncy material, that is all I’m doing. 

That’s it.

I am trying to keep my grip or figure out the next note or stay balanced.  Nothing more.  For that brief time, my mind is focused on those simple, straight forward tasks.  There is no ambiguity to what I have to do.  No real decisions.  No choices to make that have some greater impact outside of that moment.

And sometimes we need that.  We need that simplicity.

There is so much to think about in everyday life that, occasionally, when we feel cluttered or overwhelmed, we need to empty our minds of everything and anything and just paint or run or shoot something, just sweat a little, just surf or skate, or

“Just dance,” – [Lady Gaga, 2008]

Point is, hobbies are good.  They’re healthy.  We all tend to think a little too much anyway.  Sometimes you need to just pick something and do it.  Just that one thing.  Put aside an hour or two and focus on that one, seemingly unimportant task.  It can be something fun, or challenging, or anything you want, so long as you just do that one thing and nothing else.

Except unicycle archery.

That’s a little weird.