Chaos is the Big Boss
It's Pride Weekend and the closest thing I've come to any sort of gay activity is a bunch of fratboys drunkenly punching each other on the shoulder. But that's what I get for living in the Marina. There are a bunch of hot guys staying at the hostel right now, and some of them have been giving me the eye and calling me "buddy", which is obviously code for "I want to do you."
It seems impossible that over a month has passed since I last posted. And that I am now 26. After past birthdays, when I was asked if I felt any different, I always scoffed a bit at the idea. As if the passing of one day can make you feel any different! I have found that this is entirely possible--that change can be very quick as well as extremely slow. Regardless of it's speed, it still occurs, and it is irrefutable.
Growing up I was plagued by parents who seemed to seek it out. I could never depend on them for stability, and these terrors were usually sprung on me as soon as I came home from a daunting day at school, or those first disorienting moments after waking. Sometimes it would just be a complete rearrangement of all the furniture in the house. More often than not it was something much worse, like all the tile being torn out of the kitchen, or all the grass in front of the house uprooted, or one of my stepfather's erstwhile daughters moving in just long enough to get pregnant, or the entire house being demolished to make way for a new one that would take over 5 years to finish. An uneventful day was a boon, a blessing, a space to breathe.
I think I can honestly say that I have spent the majority of my adult life so far pursuing stasis. I slept often and I slept late. When friends told me of plans for their lives, plans to move, plans to go to graduate school, plans to get married, I always dismissed them. In my Berkeley days especially, when I was surrounded by an endless procession of friends and parties and boys to make out with, I kind of took any challenge to that as a personal affront. I didn't understand why anyone would try to upset everything that seemed to me to be so perfect, so forever. But pursuing stasis is not a path to happiness. Much more likely, it's a path to becoming that shiftless guy you see holding onto a phone booth with white knuckles, eyes a little hazy and empty, asking his last friend for a favor and being turned down.
Ever since my birthday, it seems like things can't stop changing. The two cats that live at the hostel where I work met the end of their nine lives. One went peacefully in her sleep, the other went out clawing, losing her fight to a bulldog with a strong jaw. Animals in general are acting kinda cuckoo. I went over to an apartment a couple weeks ago and had to jump in the middle of a vicious dogfight that left one of the dogs bleeding copiously and several girls in tears. One of my coworkers was forced to move out of her place within 24 hours because of a nearby tree that posed "imminent danger".
Then there's personal politics. People got together, people broke up, people stopped talking to people, people started talking to people again. I'm confounded by other people, and what brings us together, and what pushes us apart. Sometimes I'm so overwhelmed by it all I went to hermit myself, but then I remember how miserable I was when I sat in my room masturbating endlessly and hoping someone, anyone, would call.
Sometimes when I'm walking to the gym, and the sun is at that perfect level that imbues everything with an orange glow that seems to over-saturate every color, an amazing thing happens. There are these little birds with wings like kites. In my head I call them Kites, or Starlings, although I have no idea what either should look like. They fly close to the ground at breakneck speeds. Oftentimes they look like they're going to crash, and they save themselves at the last possible second. So sometimes, when I'm walking through the tall grass, they choose me as a focal point and fly around me as I walk. I'll stop for a second and watch it fly around me and we're like a gyroscope. They don't seem to do it for any other reason than because it occurs to them, because it's fun. And you feel this connection with this little thing, and then you feel a connection to everything, and it all makes perfect sense.
If you don't overthink everything, sometimes knowing people can be as simple and inspiring as that.
The final boss in the very first Final Fantasy, the one on NES, is Chaos, the destructor of all that is good in the world. But it's never been an enemy in any other Final Fantasy since, and yes, I've played them all. According to wikipedia, in the new Final Fantasy (by the number of 12), Chaos is a force you can summon to work for the party, to wreak havoc on your enemies and prevail. Somehow that seems much more appropriate.
Chaos finally joined the party, he was just a little misunderstood.
It seems impossible that over a month has passed since I last posted. And that I am now 26. After past birthdays, when I was asked if I felt any different, I always scoffed a bit at the idea. As if the passing of one day can make you feel any different! I have found that this is entirely possible--that change can be very quick as well as extremely slow. Regardless of it's speed, it still occurs, and it is irrefutable.
Growing up I was plagued by parents who seemed to seek it out. I could never depend on them for stability, and these terrors were usually sprung on me as soon as I came home from a daunting day at school, or those first disorienting moments after waking. Sometimes it would just be a complete rearrangement of all the furniture in the house. More often than not it was something much worse, like all the tile being torn out of the kitchen, or all the grass in front of the house uprooted, or one of my stepfather's erstwhile daughters moving in just long enough to get pregnant, or the entire house being demolished to make way for a new one that would take over 5 years to finish. An uneventful day was a boon, a blessing, a space to breathe.
I think I can honestly say that I have spent the majority of my adult life so far pursuing stasis. I slept often and I slept late. When friends told me of plans for their lives, plans to move, plans to go to graduate school, plans to get married, I always dismissed them. In my Berkeley days especially, when I was surrounded by an endless procession of friends and parties and boys to make out with, I kind of took any challenge to that as a personal affront. I didn't understand why anyone would try to upset everything that seemed to me to be so perfect, so forever. But pursuing stasis is not a path to happiness. Much more likely, it's a path to becoming that shiftless guy you see holding onto a phone booth with white knuckles, eyes a little hazy and empty, asking his last friend for a favor and being turned down.
Ever since my birthday, it seems like things can't stop changing. The two cats that live at the hostel where I work met the end of their nine lives. One went peacefully in her sleep, the other went out clawing, losing her fight to a bulldog with a strong jaw. Animals in general are acting kinda cuckoo. I went over to an apartment a couple weeks ago and had to jump in the middle of a vicious dogfight that left one of the dogs bleeding copiously and several girls in tears. One of my coworkers was forced to move out of her place within 24 hours because of a nearby tree that posed "imminent danger".
Then there's personal politics. People got together, people broke up, people stopped talking to people, people started talking to people again. I'm confounded by other people, and what brings us together, and what pushes us apart. Sometimes I'm so overwhelmed by it all I went to hermit myself, but then I remember how miserable I was when I sat in my room masturbating endlessly and hoping someone, anyone, would call.
Sometimes when I'm walking to the gym, and the sun is at that perfect level that imbues everything with an orange glow that seems to over-saturate every color, an amazing thing happens. There are these little birds with wings like kites. In my head I call them Kites, or Starlings, although I have no idea what either should look like. They fly close to the ground at breakneck speeds. Oftentimes they look like they're going to crash, and they save themselves at the last possible second. So sometimes, when I'm walking through the tall grass, they choose me as a focal point and fly around me as I walk. I'll stop for a second and watch it fly around me and we're like a gyroscope. They don't seem to do it for any other reason than because it occurs to them, because it's fun. And you feel this connection with this little thing, and then you feel a connection to everything, and it all makes perfect sense.
If you don't overthink everything, sometimes knowing people can be as simple and inspiring as that.
The final boss in the very first Final Fantasy, the one on NES, is Chaos, the destructor of all that is good in the world. But it's never been an enemy in any other Final Fantasy since, and yes, I've played them all. According to wikipedia, in the new Final Fantasy (by the number of 12), Chaos is a force you can summon to work for the party, to wreak havoc on your enemies and prevail. Somehow that seems much more appropriate.
Chaos finally joined the party, he was just a little misunderstood.
posted by themerrygo at 2:31 PM
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