| Gettin to know you. Gettin to know me. |
[Feb. 6th, 2008|05:06 pm] |
So, I have been asked by Tylorael to write about my life in the year 1996. It's a bit of meme-dom that I'm dispensing with here. Basically making this a writing exercise for the ol' nugget. If you want me to pick random years for you to write about, then by all means ask me to do so in the comments.
Disclaimer: Things get a little fuzzy for me in the years before and after I left the school system. And please bear with my fuzziness, my memory can be excellent, but is by no means perfect. And though some of the things I will write about concerning the year are verifiable either by the internet or personal records, I will opt not to do so.
1996.
I was with my first serious girlfriend. The relationship lasted in the neighborhood of three and half years. It became a mutually emotionally abusive hell hole, but I think it was still good then. I had no car, nor driver's license, so she would give me rides to places. It was through her that I had the job that I was to hold for most of a decade, as well as meeting a couple of friends who I regard amongst my best to this day, BakuDan and An Angel's Fury. Alas I did not learn the lessons that were presented to me in that relationship, and was therefore doomed to repeat them in the next serious one I had. Interestingly enough, it was through this relationship that I first met the aforementioned Tyloreal, who I was not to meet again for several years.
I'm pretty sure that it was the beginning of this year, or perhaps the end of the former, that I started training at the dojo. Everything was new. Martially, all I had at the time was from books, movies, video games, fighting friends and what latent ability resides in me. It was great to be learning.
I think my friend Elaine got married that year. I wound up cheating on my girlfriend and becoming ho-brothers with another friend of mine from highschool. My girlfriend and I wound up staying together; although naturally, things were never the same between us; and had likely been going downhill for some time. I danced for the first time at that wedding. Now, to put that particular tidbit into proper perspective, my family dances. They dance to the floor at weddings when the other family is still trying to get buzzed to summon the courage. Also, my best friend, TrustLeoUtterly had tried to get me dance at several occasions at Ground Zero. He was thwarted at every turn. So there I was in Toronto at my good friend Elaine's wedding. So I thought to myself, I'm in another country. The only people I know here are Elaine, her brother whom I'm friends with, her mother, and her husband. If I can't make a fool out of myself around these people, who can I make a fool out of myself around. So I danced, and it was wonderful. When I came back stateside, and there was some concern that I wouldn't be able to, not being acknowledged as a US citizen at the time, I apologized to my mother and friend for not dancing before.
My job was a dead end, as is evidenced by the fact that I worked there for almost ten years, had basically been the assistant office manager, and was making a pittance. Regardless, it allowed me to pursue my martial arts, which would be a defining part of my life for the foreseeable future.
I think it was around this time that I stopped hating myself and my family so much. I wasn't completely over hating myself, that happened later, but things were better. I hadn't forgiven Thomas yet, that also would come later when we first spoke to each other, but the seeds were started when I stopped hating my parents. I stopped hating my mom and stepfather as I lived more and more on my own. I realized that they were doing the best they could, and the tetragrammaton knows that I didn't make things particularly easy on them. One of the tenants that I live by is that we're all faking it, and that we're all in this together.
So there's my story.
I will do this more often.
Fact and truth and history are rarely related. Historians are primarily concerned with truth, and a concern for the truth can make one leery of those cold facts that might conflict with a precious, closely held "Truth." It is better to be a storyteller.
~The Named Storyteller
Daniel Keys Moran
Emerald Eyes |
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wilder_hiryu's journal
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