It feels good to talk

[Hemlock]

Telling stories makes people happier for some reason. Knowing your stories, and the messages behind them helps you know yourself and what's important to you. So, stories.

One of my earlier memories is one I'm not sure is even real. My memory has always been shoddy, but every so often I think back on some of my most important memories and wonder, did I dream that up? My family heritage, my first truly brave and selfless act, it's just better to believe they're true I guess.

My family was a military one, complete with my father being missing months at a time and the family shifting locations in the United States every couple of years. One place we stayed for a long time, four years, was in Janesville, Wisconsin. I was in first grade, and by that point was used to moving enough where knowing my current home address seemed unnecessary. My mother made a fun song for me to remember it, but I would have to sing to myself whenever anyone asked where I lived. Sweet lady my mom.

You move frequently enough you get real good at making new friends. My best friend was a boy named Matt (Matt Something, what was the last name of my best friend?), who lived two houses down the block and was two years younger than me. Every day we walked to school together, and after school he, my older sister, his older sister, and me played kickball, or some other outdoor activity in one of our yards until it got dark. I liked the outdoors so much more than the indoors back then, I think I forget how much that is still true.

One day on our way to school, I was probably in second grade at this point, we were talking and walking past the same houses, green grass, and trees we did everyday and Matt saw a dog, one of our neighbor's, standing in the grass looking at us a whiles off. He looked weird some how.

"Is he alright?" Matt asked me. The large black dog didn't look okay, and I noticed there was white foam at his mouth.

"I don't think so." I said quietly, and moved so that I was in between Matt and the dog. "Keep walking, he could be dangerous," I said firmly. I continued watching the dog as we passed by it, and it seemed to pay half attention to us as it snuffled in the grass and then looked at us again. It's odd I can't describe what was off about it, the dog just seemed to hold itself, wrong.

"Should we run?" Matt whispered looking up at me, his voice higher than usual.

"Not yet." I said, "Keep walking." We shifted to a quick walk.

We walked until I felt the dog was no longer paying attention to us and then we bolted to school. I don't think we talked about it afterward. Maybe I heard someone mention later about a rabid dog, maybe that's my mind filling gaps.

I'm proud of this possibly false memory, and similar certainly real events have occurred several times in my life. I confronted and stopped a verbally abusive older brother of a friend who was trashing their house and was going to throw one of my friends book bags that had a cd player in it. I did it calmly, and avoided a fight. I faced several bullies who picked on people near me. I stood between friends and other vicious dogs, cops, and other dangers. I shift to take the brunt of the impact when I fall with someone else. I'm proud to be a natural protector, one of those idiots who would jump to take the bullet for someone else. But what have you done recently? Comes to my mind, but these weren't so long ago, and I feel no different, all that's changed is what's expected of me. I should work on ignoring that.

Maybe I should look into a job protecting others by physically putting myself in danger, it seems to make me happy. Worth thinking about, I would at least be proud of myself.

[Hemlock]

Next story, a pleasant way to start a tired day. Some gloomy clouds out there this morning.

I've always been a risk taker, probably because of over confidence. When I was three, or four I was with my mom while she was trying to move her dresser. I was hopping about around her and no doubt making myself a nuisance. As my mother was trying to move the dresser it tipped and came down towards my young head. My mother caught it I think, but not before it would have hit me. I dashed out of the way of it anyways, no real fear, just getting out of the way, but it was exciting. I was smiling wide and feeling elated.

"Are you okay?" My mother asked, obviously stressed about almost smushing her son.

"Don't worry mom," I replied still grinning, "That couldn't have hit me, I'm too fast!"

Oddly, in my twenty three years of life my general dare devilness and over confidence has never really gotten me in any trouble. There have been people who didn't like what a risk taker I was, but there were others who did, so it breaks pretty neutral relationship wise. But I suppose when you get a high from life threatening situations it only has to go wrong once. Still, the trait has allowed me to have many adventures others wouldn't have found the courage to have. I've lived more.

[Hemlock]

You would think moving so much and gaining new friends in each new area would make me care less about the friends I have, easily replaceable. That's true in some ways, but the complete opposite in some others.

It's true in that I don't view new friends as all that important, nor being around friends often to be a big priority. I easily move away from my dearest friends knowing I'll be fine wherever I go. However, because I moved so much, and thus friends I am really close to are rare, I would do anything for each of those friends.

I managed to have all of my high school days in one place, and my friends from that time are like family to me, I know I'll stay in contact with them all of my life. Likewise, for at least one of my friends in college, though the time we spent together was not as long, it was a good two years and we experienced a lot together and I will always keep her close.

I feel lucky to have these relationships, I haven't a clue what happened to anyone I didn't know in high school, I never developed a close enough relationship to them, so my older relationships is all I have. I'm lucky my group of friends is still so robust and trustworthy.

[Hemlock]

I think it was from the time I was in preschool to somewhere around 5th grade that many kids knew me as either Shadow, or Dog Boy. Ah, what pride my mother must have felt when asked excitedly by children, "Are you Dog Boy's mom?"

I suppose I must have been likable. I was always playing with someone or another in my youth, but I had the intelligent inclination to think in a dog's mindset frequently. I had a very realistic bark, and I enjoyed sticking my head out the car window. Really the only time I remember being called dog boy is as an echo of a voice calling me it shortly before I bit them. I don't think I meant to, and I know I was betting somehow that sweaters dulled bites far more than they actually do, such is the experimentation of youth. Still an older girl who would frequently play with me ended up with a quite bruised arm. I remember at that point I truly did feel like a dog, tail between my legs, I had done something wrong and I knew it. It's funny how I still feel shame when I think of this story.

I have another story of hitting a girl I liked with a stick when I was younger still and getting suspended, probably from 1st grade. I do not like hurting people, but it was a bet and I was a boy and I am all kinds of impulsive.

Maybe it's not right to even think of myself as the same person as back then, but I still feel bad for hurting both of those people. I still get the same sickening guilty feeling in my gut whenever I accidentally cause harm, it happens more than I'd like. I have a way of being overly playful and carefree, and it is perhaps not a suitable mindset for being around breakable things and people. This is probably why my two best friends are in their own ways indestructible, as far as people go.

Still, I like people, and find it disheartening how frequently I end up flinging them on their face, or hitting them a fair bit harder than I meant because of an impulse to have some fun that doesn't connect with the "THIS IS DANGEROUS FOR THEM" part of my brain. Some day I'll realize not everyone is as hardy as I am, hopefully someday before someone gets injured seriously. In the end though, it's all just because I get excited and want to play, like a puppy that jumps up on you and scratches your leg accidentally.

[Hemlock]

As a kid I cried pretty easily. As far as I can remember from preschool through 5th, or 6th grade this was so. I remember one occasion, where I had forgotten my gloves for recess and I was told I had to go to the office to get some gloves there. I remember crying, regretting not having my gloves, disliking going to the office, disliking the idea about putting on other kids gloves (no doubt dirty in my mind). I know I had some touch issues back then, such that at some point my mother was told by the school to rub my back with this sponge like thing, that was supposed to make me used to feeling things against my skin. I don't remember it being so bad, but finger painting and the ilk always troubled me.

When I cried it wasn't the manipulative cries some kids do to get their way, it was just some uncontrollable rising up of emotion from my stomach up to my cheeks and then my eyes would well. Thus while walking to the office I had tears running down my cheeks.

I'm not sure why, but some time in middle school that just stopped. Stopped to an abnormal degree. Through all of high school I was laid back, but unemotional, I felt affection towards others, minor frustration, minor anger, but all of my feelings were muted. I was happier that way at the time I think. Unemotional, logical, and focused, but extremely playful. I made some of my best friends and can only say that being unemotional about things, though it may make you feel bad for not feeling as much as you should about death and break ups, is still an easier and more peaceful way to live.

In college I finally cried again. Split up with my girlfriend of a year who had basically been my main friend freshman year. I enjoyed it, it made the break up better, it had been so long since I cried I didn't even know I could any more and it felt interesting. I suppose I'm in between now, since then I've had emotions break into my life more frequently, I'm less emotional than most, but I feel the tugs at my heart sometimes. If anything, it was wonderful to be unemotional for a few years because now I really appreciate it whenever I have any emotions, it's just fun to experience them and feel human.

[Hemlock]

In 4th grade there was one dating couple in my whole year. They were, kind of odd, like two kids who took playing house too far. When they talked they almost talked like mother and father, and you could certainly call them mature, but in a childish, learned from television kind of way. Maybe they're dreams I had, but I remember them. The boy with buzz cut black hair, and the girl with blond bangs in her face. They were the only people who advised me to date the girl who liked me.

In 4th grade I was much like I am now, carefree and playful, and so when I started getting notes that said, "Do you Like me? Yes or No" I would circle "or" not able to understand the feelings of a girl putting herself out there, or that I could be hurting those feelings. Luckily, the girl was Carry, a tom boy red head who could out fight any boy, and I'm sure stood an inch or two taller than me. This for me, was probably about as good a match as I could imagine, but in 4th grade, I didn't really have a need for dating, only playing. So I continued to find ways to dodge the question for fun.

Happily for me this led to being chased around by large groups of girls during recess, a never ending game of tag that had me running around constantly, dodging girls left and right, so much fun! My friends, of course, understood that girls were the enemy, they were to be avoided, not dated and advised the same. I was neutral, I just liked playing.

This went on all year, then summer came and I didn't even think about it until the next year. When the year started in 5th grade I expected more of the same, but, no Carry to be found, I assume she moved over summer. I was to be moving in a couple months anyways, but still, it made me kind of sad. I may have been neutral to dating her, but I certainly liked playing during recess with her, the never ending tag that when I thought about it, I realized might not have been so much fun for her. I felt a bit abandoned, I had in the end lost someone I saw as a friend, even though I don't think I said anything even close to that before.

I have lots of good memories of that gated in park like area we played in during recess, lots of green grass and big trees. But by the end it was a bit lonely I think, my friends all seemed a bit distant, but then I moved anyways, so it all ended like that.

[Angelique]

Moving around a bunch made things interesting for me too. I wasn't an army brat, we just moved. By senior year, I had racked up 14 schools, 6 of them high schools..I can relate to you about the friends part. It was hard losing them again and again, but yeah after a while the process becomes familiar and you meet more people. Funny thing is I find recurring 'characters' everywhere I go, too.

I dig your stories, Hemlock. I hope you post more of them.

[Hemlock]

Hua, 14, that's impressive, what were your parents up to? Ha, I had a theory in highschool that there were a limited amount of types of people, and that most people fit into these groups almost perfectly. One of the reasons I was a bit bored with most people at that point in my life. Also probably why I have such interesting friends now though.

[Hemlock]

Two of the people I respect most are Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr., people who tried to solve huge social issues without resorting to violence. A nonviolent, but effective response is the best response to any situation in my opinion. I have lived this belief by bringing many confrontations to a close nonviolently. The first time I remember using this approach I was way to young to know about it. I was probably in second grade, and for some reason some other kid wanted to hit me. I meanwhile, just looked to be playful as always. It was a winter day and there was a large part of the asphalt playground covered in ice where the gutters let out.

I smiled at my wannabe attacker and dashed over to the ice, sliding across it. The boy followed me and continued to try and hit me as we both slid back and foreth moving around eachother. In the end, he was a kid and I was a kid, and it just became a game, the violent intent went away and it just became a game of tag on the ice. Enemy became a friendly acquaintance and everyone's happy.

I've had lots of events like this in my life, almost the same approach as then worked even in the tetosterone driven world of high school. I was in 9th grade and had fallen for a girl for the first time ever. She was energetic, brave, talkative and interesting. She had dreams, and she fought back when people tried to push her around. She seemed like someone fun to be around.

This girl also had an older brother figure however, a year older and a head and a half bigger than me, but still in my math class. Having found out that I liked the girl and that she was considering dating me, he came up after class.

"Hey, I hear you want to go out with Amelia," he said, looking down on me in more than one way. "You know she's too good for you right?".

"I know," I replied. As I said earlier, I didn't feel much in highschool, that included intimidation.

"You shouldn't go after her, if you hurt her at all, I'll make sure you pay for it." His way of speaking was very matter of fact, and honestly, I appreciated his forwardness and desire to protect Amelia.

"I understand, but I'm still going to date her if I can," I replied, eyes staying matched with his.

About two weeks after this, Amelia still hadn't decided how she felt about me, but we were if anything good friends, and I was invited to a winter snow ball fight party. The older brother figure was also there, but I had no problem with him and had fun. Later after going outside for some snow ball fights he called me out to the road.

"Hey come here!" he called, waving me over smiling. Suspicious, I walked over.

"Come and fight me," he said smiling down at me.

"No thanks," I said emotionlessly.

*thwap* A gloved hand punched, fairly lightly I'd say, into my right side. "Come on, you have to," he taunted, and continually jabbed at me.

I made no move to fight and said, "I only fight if it's just for fun,". It was obvious he was looking to prove something, and though I liked fighting, I couldn't stand fighting people like that.

"Fine. Then I'll throw you into the snow bank," he said smiling. Anything to show he was the dominant one between the two of us I guess. So he kept on coming at me, he was plenty big enough to pick me up with ease, I'm an extreme light weight, but I'm a rather tough one.

Every time he picked me up I wriggled my way out of his grasp. At this point we had a crowd watching us and eventually it just started to become a fun game, a competition. He'd come at me, some times he'd get me off the ground and was able to carry me for a bit before I broke free. One time we got right to the snow bank and he tried to toss me over into it, but I grabbed his shoulders for support and ran horizontally across the hardened bank (yes the bank was high). It was fun, and soon we were both smiling and then other people started joining in, joining his team or mine, the throwers and the escapists. No harm done, and we all got closer, meanwhile John never gave me another problem and we have a friendly mutual respect for eachother now.

In the end it was the same as in second grade, someone wants to push violence on you, you don't bother with it, and by facing the situation bravely but refusing violence, somehow friends are made. My experience is that violence sometimes does solve problems, but nonviolent means of solving conflicts, when done without fear as a motivator, have the best results.

[Angelique]

Originally Posted by Hemlock

what were your parents up to?

Cycling between separating and 'staying together for the kids'. I always left with my mom to have many moving adventures.

Originally Posted by Hemlock

One of the reasons I was a bit bored with most people at that point in my life. Also probably why I have such interesting friends now though.

Seriously, it was like watching re-runs in person. Second part's true for me too, I've met quite a few gems and I've never even moved out of Texas. I used to hate moving with a passion..now I'm setting myself up to do it forever, globally. I wonder if the same patterns will show up in other countries.

[Hemlock]

Traveling the globe is interesting because every countries have their own kind of charm, so you have all of the characters you know, but with a twist. Same characters, different artist drawing them sort of thing.

[Hemlock]

Sean was in my English class in 7th grade, and today we had a substitute. This was one of those substitutes you just couldn’t bring yourself to respect like a teacher. She was all squawky yelling and low self esteem when faced with children. She treated us all like hooligans, and so we acted accordingly. I was in the back of the class with Sean and a girl who had buzz cut the back of her head, but let the rest of her hair hang over it so you couldn’t tell along with a few others of the rebellious group of students. I guess you might question how I got there as I was the studious type, but I’ve always had a very accepting personality and you only have to accept others for them to accept you. In a way I was sort of an honorary delinquent.

At the end of the day, Sean, who has always been the one to take things to the next level, just got up and walked out of the class, ignoring the teachers squawking for him to sit down this instant, and that he would be suspended. When he was gone she was left with having to follow through with that threat. She looked to where he had been sitting and the people around the area, and spotted me. I no doubt looked like the only “good” student there, and a “good” student is oh so easy to manipulate. So she walked up to me and began her interrogation.

“Who was that boy who just left?” she squawked.

“Never met him before,” I replied, but my eyes were down on my desk, my body language screaming, if you keep attacking he won’t hold up much longer! And so she did.

Eventually she said, “If you don’t tell me who he was then you will be suspended,” Maybe it was the thought of my parents being disappointed, or being labeled a “bad” kid, but I broke.

“His name’s Sean Saunders,” I mumbled.

The girl with the buzz cut hair turned in her seat and yelled, “You snake!”

“Silence!” yelled the teacher, and went to go make a note in her book. Then soon class was over, and I felt miserable. I was fuming at the teacher for making me turn on a friend, but more furious at myself because I know she hadn’t, I had just been weak.

The next class Sean and I had French together and I sat behind him. He turned to me at the beginning of the class and said, “So, what happened?”

“You’re going to be suspended,” I said, eyes down on my desk.

“Someone told on me huh? I figured someone would, who was it?” he asked, not much disturbed by the news.

“It was me,” I replied, embarrassment and shame wrapped up in my words. He looked shocked, then angry, and then he turned and faced forward in his seat and didn’t say a word to me for days. Eventually things went back to normal; they always do with him and me somehow, even if I don’t really deserve it to.

It was from this point onwards that I became more and more independent minded. I didn’t listen to teachers if I thought they were wrong, and treated them like people rather than overseers. This made me some friends among the teachers because I would stop by after class and talk to them about things that had to do with their subjects. Teachers that can take debating with a student love that, it shows the student has interest in the subject. At the same time I decided that some rules of our school were useless and largely ignored them. I played outside, or in the gym during study halls, climbed the trees surrounding the school, skipped classes if there was something truly more important like a friend who was having a crisis. A worse high school student but a better person was born from this, and now I like to think I’m someone who is always there for his friends, and would never betray them.

[Hemlock]

A list of things I have broken:

At four a tower of blocks one of my class mates had built up.

At five a hook for hanging coats, that I tried to leap to and hang on.

At six the skin of a girl who I saw as my friend, using a stick.

At seven the life of some ants, I think I even tried eating some.

At eight the chance for life of some frog eggs, which do not grow well in a bucket.

At nine the left ear drum of a girl who had tackled me to the ground, I do hope she's okay now.

At ten the skin of my Tae Kwon Do instructor's lip, and the skin of my knuckle.

At eleven half the skin on my face, also the cleanliness of a road.

At twelve old ties with best friends, though I still say that broke on its own some how.

At thirteen a girl's good intentions.

At fourteen a friend's trust.

At fifteen someone's shell and psychology and my own disinterest in dating girls.

At sixteen some school rules, some more skin and two identical lamps.

At seventeen someone's glasses and another person's shell.

At eighteen two to three hearts, and most communication with my friends at home.

At nineteen old habits, new hearts and a few standards.

At twenty international borders and a laser and a few standards.

At twenty one my belief in my past life path and a large expensive white sheet.

At twenty two my past life path.

At twenty three there's still time left to see, but at the very least new ground.

It appears most of the breaking I've done is superficial, and the one's that aren't are mostly positive. Hmm...if this were a clock I'd only have an hour and a half left to go.