Reflections

It’s weird to look at a diary I tried to create 13 years ago, especially when I look at who I was…and who I am.

I laugh inwardly as I type this trying to use correct punctuation, as if that will have any bearing on what I write here.  I even looked up the word bearing to make sure I used it properly with the correct spelling.  I don’t know if it is accurate to call myself mildly OCD, but I am definitely particular about some things.  Yet, I will make plenty of punctuation errors here.  Enough of that tangent.

I am no longer a slave to my addictions, at least not the drugs.  Drug addiction is often described as an incurable illness, and I suppose there is some truth to that, but that hardly encompasses the reality.  The reality is that you finally come to the understanding that you cannot control the drugs.  As an addict, they will ALWAYS control you.  Knowing this, and using it as a sort of guide post for all the consumable chemicals in my life has helped me tremendously.  I’m losing my train of thought, this is not what I came here to write, but I thought it would be good to reflect on the posts I wrote 12+ years ago.

Commas for pause and to avoid dependent clauses, semi colons when you feel like it.  My Lit 101 class from 5+ years ago just won’t regurgitate in my brain properly.

My true purpose here, this time, is to hopefully work as a memory trainer.  My brain is not great at recalling things on the spot, and forget about names.  Hopefully regurgitating some of the experiences of my days, weeks, months will help.

Today my thoughts wandered to how I became friends with the person I consider to be my best friend, despite however different our views might have become over the years.  I was pondering how we became friends.

When I was in high school, I met this girl.  She was fun and cute and friendly.  I asked her on a date, and out we went.  When we returned from that date, we kissed.  It was a small thing, but as a high school kid I was on cloud nine.  Shortly after that she told me she was going to try to work things out with her boyfriend.

Did I forget to mention that?  I think they were on some sort of break, but yes, she had a boyfriend.  We moved to this town about half way through 11th grade year and he was a few years older, so we never met in school.

I had heard various things about this guy.  I can’t remember the exact descriptions people gave me, but I had pictured him as a sort of unfriendly thug.  The first time I met him was at a party I was invited to.  Mostly I avoided him but at some point during this party he invited me to smoke some pot.  I smoked in those days.  I can’t fully remember the exchange that took place but I, being more bold that I was traditionally, called him out for a few perceived sleights.  It turned out these were really miscommunications that involved other people; I was somewhat taken aback by his straightforward answers and lack of aggression.  So we smoked and chatted and though I was still somewhat wary of him, we got along fine.

I should point out that up to this point I had seen him as competition for that girls affection.  I still did, but my respect for him grew that night.  It wasn’t until many weeks later when he showed up at my house and was in a bit of a state.  I asked him what was wrong, and he described his grief over this girl moving to a far away state.  At that point, I knew he was not the person I had pictured before, or even the person I thought I knew up to that point.  He had genuine feelings for that girl, and at that time of my life such an outward display of emotion seemed rare to me.  I knew that in at least some small way, we were kindred spirits.  I also knew this was someone I really wanted to be friends with.  It turns out we had a lot in common and went on many wayward adventures after that.

It’s been 23 years or so.  We are still friends.  We don’t have as much in common as we once did, but there is still friendship there.  I still consider him to be my best friend.  As I write that it occurs to me that my mom comes pretty close to that title these days, but of course its not the same.  I suppose we will remain my best friend until I find a wife.  That, as they say, is another story…