Friday, June 2, 2017
One of the most frightening things to me about high school, one of the things I was most uncertain about, was the rows of lockers; rows that lined the halls up and down on either end. There were so many and they represented so many people:
Keeners, nerds, bullies, preps, weirdoes, slackers, jocks, the popular kids.
I always wondered what category I fit into.
I was never stuffed into a locker; sometimes though I’d look in and wonder if I could escape through… like the kids and the wardrobe in that story about the lion and the witch.
But could I really do that? Could I crawl through?
In our school days all that I wanted to do was graduate and leave those lockers behind, to escape those hallways filled with cliques, groups, socials. So full of people, yet feeling so empty at times… trying to fit in wasn’t easy for me.
The locker was like a personal shrine to so many, filled with pictures and books and anything else one desired to place inside. Anything that made us cool. But it was only math, science, and English literature for me. Boring.
No stickers, no logos, no pictures ripped from magazines.
Did this say something about me??
Damn those tricky combinations! Was it six to the left three times, four to the right twice, and nine back? Can someone give me a hacksaw to open this damn thing? I’m supposed to be getting an education, I have to remember my combo and try to fit in with the cool crowd?
The locker, can I climb in and avoid all of this?
I graduated years ago, but in many ways I still have a locker with me that I carry around in my mind. I still often desire to crawl in and through to the other side like those kids in that movie.
In some ways I suppose that is kind of what I do and why I have become a writer, to escape the crowds in the hallways. My imagination has become part my my clique. And I am trying to cope, to come to terms with my grown-up high school life.
It still isn’t always easy for me.
Sunday, March 26, 2017
On a weekday when going to work I wake up to the “Beep, Beep” of the alarm at six-thirty am. On a day off I usually forego the alarm but still end up rising before too long.
Regardless of going to the paying job, sitting at home writing or spending time with the family, each day I know that I am going to face frustration, fatigue and uncertainty. But this is no one’s fault.
So as I stretch myself awake and sip at my tea, staring into nothing, I try to take it in.
To prepare for the coming activity.
I try to understand.
As I take my shower and get dressed, go to work, flip on the TV and move through the motions that can be sometimes difficult but also rewarding and fun, I think about how in some ways my life has had to deal with darkness like no one else, but also in other ways, less so than many others.
I have had challenges and barriers thrown my way.
And I remember.
Others have dealt with messes as well, in their own ways.
We move on.
These thoughts help me endure. To get through; to smile; to dance; to laugh and to love.
I get through my day and just like it is always, I look forward to the next.
I have endured.
I will endure.