Tranquility Breeds Acuity
The clarity of thought which I am experiencing is amazing. I believe the reason behind my acute mind this evening is two fold. First and foremost, sobriety. Once a celebrated follower of Bacchus, I have taken to the proverbial wagon for the near to extended future. As part of the re-creation of myself, partying has lost it's place in line amongst my priorities. It now finds itself somewhere down by sorting my socks by length, and seeing to the protection of the Wombat. Admittedly, I reached a point this evening where I felt like I wanted a drink. No, I felt like I NEEDED a drink. However, the feeling quickly waned. At first, I assumed I was in the grips of some sort of byproduct of quitting anything cold turkey. I instead realized that my desire to drink was less a result of withdrawl from the intoxicant, but rather a withdrawl from normalcy. At 9:30 on a Friday evening, I had become accostumed both mentally and physically to partaking in a cocktail or seven. I see this as less a realization than a revelation!
Of course, the other factor in my new state of mind is the transformation I am undertaking. Amidst a great deal of negativity that has entered my life of late, some revealed here previously, some not, I have finally taken a mental and emotional pardigm shift. I see the world from a different view. Priorities have changed. I have taken on new values, and eradicated useless ones. What I once thought to be important is now seen as superficial and arbitrary. Things I used to think I couldn't possibly go without doing, I now see for what they really are.....end of the list luxuries. Things to be done when all else has been accomplished. There are no shortcuts in life, I have come to realize. No matter what your intelligence level, charisma, beauty, or talent.....you, like all those above and below you on the talent scale, must use hard work to be a success. It sounds corny, and it sounds basic. A regurgitation of the same rhetoric our parents and teachers have been shoveling at us since day one....but I'll be damned if it isn't the God's honest truth.
So, with a clear mind, I attempted this evening to sort out my current state of affairs. Easy to assess, difficult to sort out. In the midst of that exercise, however, my mind reverted back. I began drawing memories with such clarity, it was as if I was there all over again. Many people claim to be able to remember a great deal of their childhood. I honestly can only remember select moments. I can only imagine that those are the moments that either defined me at the time, or molded me for the future. I just feel like I need to get those memories down. Read them if you like, but we all have them. Little bits and pieces of our past that stick out like an orange foam cowboy hat in church. You can't seem to shake those images.
I remember being very young. I can't even remember what age. Perhaps 5? A young friend of mine and I traveled to a near by tract of houses that had just been built. He assured me that beneath one of the empty houses witches had been buried. As a child with an active imagination, I was curious, and damn near believing. He led me into the back yard, where we peered in through one of the side windows. Eventually, what had begun as a journey into the supernatural, suddenly became an initiation into vandalism. He began to throw rocks at the window, but his own fright of getting caught caused him to aim low on purpose. He egged me on to join him, but I refused. Frozen in place, knowing we were doing wrong. Eventually, a neighbor called the police, and I was soon staring at a badge for the first time. I assume I have suppressed the feelings from then on out, because I remember very little. What I do remember is this: that cop told my dad I was vandalizing that property, and when I told him I didn't, he believed me, and told that cop to take a hike. I already had love for my dad up until then, but I believe that day I learned about something more important: respect.
I remember the park in Placentia that sat adjacent to my home. We used to plan adventures, using the misshappen concrete in the sidewalk as a "map". Most adventures led to the pommegranate tree that drooped over the wall across the field. Many a day at the park ended with red stained faces and hands. I remember the night my dad and I took the training wheels off of my bike for the first time. It was an orange bike, with all kinds of crazy plastic attachments to make it look like a motorcycle. Dad had won it on a game show, and it was one of the few things, as I was told later, that wasn't exchanged for "cash value." In the dusk of the Southern California night, one fateful push led to a furious scamper down the sidewalk and I tasted my first moments of accomplishment, independence and freedom. Eventually the plastic decorations came off, and I launched that poor bike over many a ramp formed in the sand surrounding the playground there. Eventually a carelessly left nailed board which pierced my shin would put a damper on that play area.
I remember there was a mentally retarded boy in my neighborhood. I knew him, I talked to him, but I don't remember how. My memory tells me that I was cordial and friendly with him, and I'll have to assume that was true. What I do remember were neighborhood children telling him to eat the mud that had formed near a sprinkler, assuring him it was chocolate. I remember berating those kids, and doing my best to assure that he (Mike?) avoided it. And I remember his mother thanking me for treating her son with respect. I learned compassion that day.
I remember the first really bad thing I ever did. Fairmont Elementary was a short walk down the block from my home. On the way was a 7-11. In the 80's we had our Ataris, but the big deal was to shove quarter after quarter into the full size machines, which 7-11 always had the latest of. From Dragon's Lair to Donkey Kong Jr., I spent a small fortune in there. One day, I decided I wanted to explore more of my artistic side than just drawing. I wanted some clay to sculpt with. I just so happened to decide I wanted it while I was walking through that 7-11 one afternoon. I found some, it cost about 3 dollars. Three dollars that I didn't have. I slid that molding clay under my jacket and trekked home. Almost three quarters of the way I stopped, turned around, and walked all the way back. I entered that 7-11, and put the modeling clay right back where I had taken it from, and left. I haven't done that since. I learned honesty that day.
Fairmont was the site of the most important moment in my life as well. One day, during a seminar, I sat near the back with my teacher (Ms. Morse?). A film was being shown on safety or something, and a scene came on where a young boy fell off a bridge. God, I can remember that scene as if I saw it on the news last night. The room erupted in laughter as I quietly, and very seriously, turned to my teacher and her peers and stated, "That's not funny at all, that boy could have been seriously hurt." This was the straw that broke the camel's back. My teacher had seen my schoolwork, and watched me a great deal in class, and felt that I may be ready to advance at a faster pace. This exact moment, she later said in a meeting with my parents, showed her the level of maturity that I had already reached. She recommended I skip the fourth grade and move to fifth grade. My parents left the decision up to me, and it isn't hard to imagine what occurred then. I learned egotism that day, I imagine.
In a weird episode, that I can't quite put a time frame on, I recall going to summer camp. The standout moment was waiting to be checked in for a great deal of time, and some smart ass exclaimed "What's the deal here!" It became the catchphrase of the week. I imagine my fascination with catchphrases began there. Late during my time there, the cabin I was in won the "golden dustpan" for having the cleanest cabin. Seemed innocent enough, until the rest of my cabin decided to trash this insignificant trophy. The bashed it, battered it, and eventually launched it to the roof of our cabin. I remember being so angry and upset by the incident, almost to the point of tears. I couldn't imagine trivializing any accomplishment whatsoever. I didn't learn anything that day, but looking back, it speaks volumes about who I am. Infatuated with achievement, and the laurels of hard work. Somewhere along the line, I seem to have forgotten what it takes to garner achievement.
From then on, my memories are an amalgom of random occurrences, very few educational. More often than not, they reveal the memorable events since I moved to the bay area. I remember the great Mrs. Hong, and what an interest she took in my success. If someone told her how I was doing today, she would be so proud. That is why I would never tell her the truth myself, and ruin that image. Someday, I would love to tell her what a success I had become. That day hasn't arrived.
Then came Piedmont Middle. Man, what a crazy time. You talk about formative years, those were them. While High School was a constant shuffle from one Spanish class to the next Religion class, with fantasy leagues and NCAA pools mixed in, Middle School was as close as I ever came to the text book definition of the public school experience. My defining characteristic had to be my utter fascination with one Patricia Buhagiar. I became just transfixed on this girl in the second class of my first day at that school. Now, I'm a suave cat, I know this. The ladies love me, girls they adore me. But here was my first real taste of any attraction to girls, and, well....quite a show I must say. Racing in from gym, I had my dirty gym clothes with me. As I slumped into a second row chair, I ended up next to this girl. I noticed her immediately, and as my awkward frame became uneasy, my heart pumping, she actually said something to me. Only problem was, she didn't know she was talking to me. "Someone's dirty sock is on the floor!" she exclaimed. It had flung itself behind me and to my right. And I said those three little words right back to her, "Um, that's mine." Now, remember the desks in school? They had that convenient arm rest on the right side. Well, try as you might, unless you are a giant, you can't reach the floor by just reaching over that thing. You have to do what I did......you have to topple over onto your back in as loud a crash as possible. Now I dare anyone to make a first impression like that! Now, I admit, I had quite a crush on that girl for the 3 years we were all there, but I was never obsessed. Never! Then again, this is before the anti-stalking laws were ever written.....
I feel as if I could share for days on end. There is so much I want to get written down, if for no other reason than I want to be able to look back and remember these times so clearly. Perhaps I will continue this diatribe another time.....then again, if you hated it, tell me, Ill never write crap like this again! LOL
Excel and enjoy, my cherubs....
Of course, the other factor in my new state of mind is the transformation I am undertaking. Amidst a great deal of negativity that has entered my life of late, some revealed here previously, some not, I have finally taken a mental and emotional pardigm shift. I see the world from a different view. Priorities have changed. I have taken on new values, and eradicated useless ones. What I once thought to be important is now seen as superficial and arbitrary. Things I used to think I couldn't possibly go without doing, I now see for what they really are.....end of the list luxuries. Things to be done when all else has been accomplished. There are no shortcuts in life, I have come to realize. No matter what your intelligence level, charisma, beauty, or talent.....you, like all those above and below you on the talent scale, must use hard work to be a success. It sounds corny, and it sounds basic. A regurgitation of the same rhetoric our parents and teachers have been shoveling at us since day one....but I'll be damned if it isn't the God's honest truth.
So, with a clear mind, I attempted this evening to sort out my current state of affairs. Easy to assess, difficult to sort out. In the midst of that exercise, however, my mind reverted back. I began drawing memories with such clarity, it was as if I was there all over again. Many people claim to be able to remember a great deal of their childhood. I honestly can only remember select moments. I can only imagine that those are the moments that either defined me at the time, or molded me for the future. I just feel like I need to get those memories down. Read them if you like, but we all have them. Little bits and pieces of our past that stick out like an orange foam cowboy hat in church. You can't seem to shake those images.
I remember being very young. I can't even remember what age. Perhaps 5? A young friend of mine and I traveled to a near by tract of houses that had just been built. He assured me that beneath one of the empty houses witches had been buried. As a child with an active imagination, I was curious, and damn near believing. He led me into the back yard, where we peered in through one of the side windows. Eventually, what had begun as a journey into the supernatural, suddenly became an initiation into vandalism. He began to throw rocks at the window, but his own fright of getting caught caused him to aim low on purpose. He egged me on to join him, but I refused. Frozen in place, knowing we were doing wrong. Eventually, a neighbor called the police, and I was soon staring at a badge for the first time. I assume I have suppressed the feelings from then on out, because I remember very little. What I do remember is this: that cop told my dad I was vandalizing that property, and when I told him I didn't, he believed me, and told that cop to take a hike. I already had love for my dad up until then, but I believe that day I learned about something more important: respect.
I remember the park in Placentia that sat adjacent to my home. We used to plan adventures, using the misshappen concrete in the sidewalk as a "map". Most adventures led to the pommegranate tree that drooped over the wall across the field. Many a day at the park ended with red stained faces and hands. I remember the night my dad and I took the training wheels off of my bike for the first time. It was an orange bike, with all kinds of crazy plastic attachments to make it look like a motorcycle. Dad had won it on a game show, and it was one of the few things, as I was told later, that wasn't exchanged for "cash value." In the dusk of the Southern California night, one fateful push led to a furious scamper down the sidewalk and I tasted my first moments of accomplishment, independence and freedom. Eventually the plastic decorations came off, and I launched that poor bike over many a ramp formed in the sand surrounding the playground there. Eventually a carelessly left nailed board which pierced my shin would put a damper on that play area.
I remember there was a mentally retarded boy in my neighborhood. I knew him, I talked to him, but I don't remember how. My memory tells me that I was cordial and friendly with him, and I'll have to assume that was true. What I do remember were neighborhood children telling him to eat the mud that had formed near a sprinkler, assuring him it was chocolate. I remember berating those kids, and doing my best to assure that he (Mike?) avoided it. And I remember his mother thanking me for treating her son with respect. I learned compassion that day.
I remember the first really bad thing I ever did. Fairmont Elementary was a short walk down the block from my home. On the way was a 7-11. In the 80's we had our Ataris, but the big deal was to shove quarter after quarter into the full size machines, which 7-11 always had the latest of. From Dragon's Lair to Donkey Kong Jr., I spent a small fortune in there. One day, I decided I wanted to explore more of my artistic side than just drawing. I wanted some clay to sculpt with. I just so happened to decide I wanted it while I was walking through that 7-11 one afternoon. I found some, it cost about 3 dollars. Three dollars that I didn't have. I slid that molding clay under my jacket and trekked home. Almost three quarters of the way I stopped, turned around, and walked all the way back. I entered that 7-11, and put the modeling clay right back where I had taken it from, and left. I haven't done that since. I learned honesty that day.
Fairmont was the site of the most important moment in my life as well. One day, during a seminar, I sat near the back with my teacher (Ms. Morse?). A film was being shown on safety or something, and a scene came on where a young boy fell off a bridge. God, I can remember that scene as if I saw it on the news last night. The room erupted in laughter as I quietly, and very seriously, turned to my teacher and her peers and stated, "That's not funny at all, that boy could have been seriously hurt." This was the straw that broke the camel's back. My teacher had seen my schoolwork, and watched me a great deal in class, and felt that I may be ready to advance at a faster pace. This exact moment, she later said in a meeting with my parents, showed her the level of maturity that I had already reached. She recommended I skip the fourth grade and move to fifth grade. My parents left the decision up to me, and it isn't hard to imagine what occurred then. I learned egotism that day, I imagine.
In a weird episode, that I can't quite put a time frame on, I recall going to summer camp. The standout moment was waiting to be checked in for a great deal of time, and some smart ass exclaimed "What's the deal here!" It became the catchphrase of the week. I imagine my fascination with catchphrases began there. Late during my time there, the cabin I was in won the "golden dustpan" for having the cleanest cabin. Seemed innocent enough, until the rest of my cabin decided to trash this insignificant trophy. The bashed it, battered it, and eventually launched it to the roof of our cabin. I remember being so angry and upset by the incident, almost to the point of tears. I couldn't imagine trivializing any accomplishment whatsoever. I didn't learn anything that day, but looking back, it speaks volumes about who I am. Infatuated with achievement, and the laurels of hard work. Somewhere along the line, I seem to have forgotten what it takes to garner achievement.
From then on, my memories are an amalgom of random occurrences, very few educational. More often than not, they reveal the memorable events since I moved to the bay area. I remember the great Mrs. Hong, and what an interest she took in my success. If someone told her how I was doing today, she would be so proud. That is why I would never tell her the truth myself, and ruin that image. Someday, I would love to tell her what a success I had become. That day hasn't arrived.
Then came Piedmont Middle. Man, what a crazy time. You talk about formative years, those were them. While High School was a constant shuffle from one Spanish class to the next Religion class, with fantasy leagues and NCAA pools mixed in, Middle School was as close as I ever came to the text book definition of the public school experience. My defining characteristic had to be my utter fascination with one Patricia Buhagiar. I became just transfixed on this girl in the second class of my first day at that school. Now, I'm a suave cat, I know this. The ladies love me, girls they adore me. But here was my first real taste of any attraction to girls, and, well....quite a show I must say. Racing in from gym, I had my dirty gym clothes with me. As I slumped into a second row chair, I ended up next to this girl. I noticed her immediately, and as my awkward frame became uneasy, my heart pumping, she actually said something to me. Only problem was, she didn't know she was talking to me. "Someone's dirty sock is on the floor!" she exclaimed. It had flung itself behind me and to my right. And I said those three little words right back to her, "Um, that's mine." Now, remember the desks in school? They had that convenient arm rest on the right side. Well, try as you might, unless you are a giant, you can't reach the floor by just reaching over that thing. You have to do what I did......you have to topple over onto your back in as loud a crash as possible. Now I dare anyone to make a first impression like that! Now, I admit, I had quite a crush on that girl for the 3 years we were all there, but I was never obsessed. Never! Then again, this is before the anti-stalking laws were ever written.....
I feel as if I could share for days on end. There is so much I want to get written down, if for no other reason than I want to be able to look back and remember these times so clearly. Perhaps I will continue this diatribe another time.....then again, if you hated it, tell me, Ill never write crap like this again! LOL
Excel and enjoy, my cherubs....
