Julia’s Neighborhood

When I started this blog I meant to post quite a bit. My main plan was to talk about dreams I had and share stories i've written throughout my life. That's still the plan. For a while I put this blog on the back burner while I took care of other things. I'm going to say about three years ago I started writing a novel. It might be less but I have been at it for a long time. I have this notebook that's dedicated to just that novel. When I first started the novel I was writing on it pretty much every day. It's been my dream since I was in grade school to write a novel. I have a computer that I can write it on but I prefer writing by hand. I get more enjoyment out of it that way. That also meant that this novel would take quite a bit of time to write. I didn't mind just as long as I got it done. As time goes on and all you're thinking about is that one story 24/7, no matter how good it is you eventually start to get tired of it. Not saying that it's a bad story. I quite like the novel i'm writing but I know the story by heart. It's replayed itself in my mind hundreds of times. I'm not coming up with a reason to stop writing it. I will finish it. It's just taking a long time. Right now i've set it aside. The story sits in a dusty notebook waiting to be finished and when the time is right I will. Right now i'm focusing on a completely different novel. This year I participated in NaNoWriMo and it's been one of the best writing experiences of my life. NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. The entire month of November is devoted to writing a 50,000 word novel. I started on the first and by the fifteenth I finished the novel. I went in with an idea. Just a short scene I had in my mind. It was one of those ideas you jot down just so you don't forget them but most of the time you don't do anything with them. The scene was of a man driving on the freeway in the carpool lane. His passengers are dead people. His license plate says TXDRMY. I know it's kind of corny. I just got that in my head one day and wanted to find a home for it. Why I picked that idead for NaNoWriMo I can't really say. I'm glad I did though. What I wrote turned out better than anything else I've written except for the novel I was working on before all of this started. In fifteen days I accomplished that one thing i've wanted to do for a long time and now matter how much I type about how I feel I don't think I could give the feeling complete justice. I'm happy. When I think about it my mouth stretches into a tight smile that doesn't go away easily. I didn't feel this way when I graduated from high school or when I got my first paycheck or when I first asked a girl out and they were crazy enough to say yes to me. This feeling is new to me. It will probably change a little once I start going through the novel and doing some rewriting but most likely not. I actually like to rewrite. That's when new ideas come out. Ideas that make the story even better. I look forward to that but I'm going to let it rest for a bit. Just like the other novel. I'll get to it because writing is what I love. It's what I live and breathe for and I promise that my stories aren't as bad as this blog i'm writing right now. I guess what I've been trying to say all along is a lot of things were happening and it forced me to neglect this blog. I'm going to do better though. I have a few new short stories that I plan to post soon. One of them is about ready. The other needs cleaned up just a little bit more. Anyways, hopefully my next post will be soon. If it isn't it's because I got busy again but I promise i'll be back. Not that anyone actually reads my blog.

I was lying in a hospital bed covered in bandages. A friend showed up to visit me and I asked her if she would take some pictures of my wounds. When she took off the bandages I saw that I was covered in slash marks. It looked like I had been mauled by a bear. She took out her cell phone out and started taking pictures. Then suddenly she reaches down and rips open the wounds and starts taking pictures of my insides. I screamed for her to stop, telling her it hurt so bad but she wouldn't listen to me. Nurses and doctors walked by the door and I called for them to stop my friend but they wouldn't even look in my direction. I'm not sure what happened next. I might have gone on to dreaming about something else or I could have woken up at this point. It left me with a knot in my stomach but I guess a knot in my stomach is better than my friend's hand rifling around my internal organs.

OUT OF TUNE

            Stuart’s eyes roamed around his room and books stared back at him, stacks and stacks of books. Normally he would greet them with a smile and look forward to pouring himself over their pages. Today he could hardly stand the sight of them. There was nothing wrong with them. Reading was his hobby and he was good at it but he found himself starting to get bored with it. It was time for a new hobby and he knew just the thing. Next to reading he loved listening to music. Why not try to make some of his own? It wasn’t long before he found himself standing in a guitar shop. That’s the way he was. Once he got an idea in his head he was quick to act on it.

 “Can I help you?” Someone asked. 

He’d been standing in front of a wall lined with acoustic guitars. They were all so foreign to him. He’d never even held one before. He’d lost track of how long he’d been inside the guitar shop.

            He looked over and met the eyes that went with the voice. It was a girl with sandy blonde hair and a friendly smile painted on her face.

            “Umm,” he thought for a second. “No, I’m just looking around.”

            “Okay,” she said. “Let me know if you need any help. You’re welcome to pick up a few and play if you want.”

            After she left he went back to looking at each guitar. His eyes stopped on one with a light brown grain and a black border. He reached out and touched the smooth surface. Before he knew what he was doing he’d lifted it up into his arms. It was a perfect fit. This is it, he told himself. This is the one. By the time he made it home with his new purchase he realized he’d never even plucked a string. He’d just known this was the guitar for him.

            He flipped through a few how-to books he’d found at the shop and started to teach himself how to play but something was wrong. The chords didn’t sound right. He spent several nights trying to make a pleasant sound come out of the guitar but all that came out was noise. It’s broken, he thought. As time went by the guitar started to collect dust and he found himself picking up his books once again. Stick with what you know, he told himself. That way you can’t disappoint yourself.  

            It wasn’t long before the sight of the guitar became too much for him. He thought of his friend Ray, with his long greasy black hair and wrinkled clothing. He had that just got out of bed

 look a lot of rockers have. Maybe he’d be interested in taking the guitar off his hands. He decided he better call him.

            “Yeah, dude,” Ray had slurred over the phone. “I’ll come look at it tomorrow.”

            Stuart couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Their differences were astounding. Ray was the guy that would sit in the back of a classroom half asleep while Stuart sat in front hanging on the teacher’s every word.

            That night, as sleep started to weigh its heavy body on Stuart’s eyelids there was a thump on the wall. In the dark he could make out the outline of his guitar lying on the floor. The strings hummed for a moment. He walked over and propped it back up and quickly forgot about it. In the morning as he showed Ray the guitar and saw all the finger marks in the dust he thought nothing of those as well.

            “She’s beautiful dude,” Ray had said. “How much you want for her?”

            “Six hundred,” Stuart said. Ray let out a whistle.

            “Six hundred,” he repeated. “All right. I can do that. Just give me a few days.”

            Stuart had settled himself in for the night. The day had been good. He’d found a home for his guitar and he could finally put that behind him. His bed molded to his body in a loving embrace. As he slept, a soft melancholy tune filled his ears. It glided over his body. It touched his heart. He’d never heard such beauty and sadness. His mind searched for the image that was making the haunting sound but it wasn’t coming from him.

His eyes sprang open and his worst fears were realized. The sound remained. He looked over at his guitar resting on a man’s lap. He wanted to scream but couldn’t. The only sound in his room was coming from the guitar.

The man was a moving silhouette, as dark as the shadows that covered Stuart’s walls. A sliver of moonlight from the window showed his outline hunched over the guitar. A cowboy hat on top of his head bobbed along with the music. When the song ended he spoke in a voice that was soft and sad, like the music.

            “Such a beautiful sound. Peaceful, don’t you think?”

            Stuart didn’t answer, only stared.

            “They say that music comforts the soul, brings peace to the restless spirit. It’s true. I haven’t heard any in a while. It’s nice to hear it again. I missed that feeling.”

            He talked through the night, stopping occasionally to let his fingers make more music come out of the guitar. He talked until sunlight crept through the window and chased him and every other shadow away. Stuart stared at the spot long after the man had gone. His eyes felt like they were on fire.

            A flood of relief came over him when Ray finally came to pick up the guitar. Ray salivated over it. He played a few songs and talked about how nice they sounded coming out of the guitar. Stuart had the look of patience but just beneath the surface he couldn’t wait for Ray to leave. He never saw the man again but sometimes at night he swears he can hear someone sobbing. On these nights he puts on his Discman and lets the music drown the sound out. It turned out the man was right. Music really did comfort the soul.

A few nights ago I had a nightmare. I was swimming in a lake and a crocodile came out of nowhere and bit down on my foot. I struggled to get away but the crocodile wouldn't allow it. Suddenly another crocodile appears in front of me and I watch in horror as it opens its mouth, exposing sharp yellowed fangs, and bites down on my head. Both the crocodiles spun into a death roll at this point and twisted me apart.

I woke up not long after with a racing heart and despite many efforts I never fully got back to sleep. Sleep came in small doses but that was it. It's been a few days and the nightmare is still fresh in my mind. I keep seeing the fangs edging closer and closer to my face. A few details have added since then. Saliva as thick as cords drips down the side of the crocodile's mouth and I can feel the bones in my foot and ankle being crushed to dust. As much as I would love to push this image out of my mind I can't and I realize that i'm mostly to blame. Had this not been a dream this would have been precisely the kind of image I would have sought out for one of my stories.

When I was younger I remember starting to write a short story that involved a character being decapitated. I remember telling my mom about it and how excited I was and at the same time how concerned she was. She told me to be careful, that seeking out these images could be unhealthy, that someday these images would seek me out. I didn't really understand what she meant at the time but I do now. It's like if you surround yourself with positive things and people that can really affect your mood in a positive way. The same thing applies here. I've spent most of my life creating stories that sometimes they just come to me.

I wrote down the nightmare in a little notebook I always keep near me. I may never use it in a story and I can't say if i'd really want to but i'll keep it just in case. You never know. 

What's the biggest disappointment you've suffered?

I had to think on this one for awhile. Life is filled with them. I guess for me it's looking back on high school and regretting that I skated under the radar. At the time I just wanted school to be over and done with. I didn't really hang out with people because of my social anxiety. I always watched the clock, willing it with all my might to hurry up so I could go home. I didn't participate in any sports or any of the events that took place after school hours. I didn't go to my own prom. I took a friend to her senior ball a few years after I graduated and had so much fun that I wished I would have gone to my own. The problem was at the time I was so nervous to talk to girls. Rejection scared me so I just didn't put myself out there. I might have avoided it but at the same time I missed out on a lot. I don't live in regret though. I still got so much life left to live. If I wallowed in regret I wouldn't be moving forward. So that's pretty much it. I wouldn't have kept to myself so much. High school wasn't a bad experience but other than making it through it and getting that diploma it wasn't much of a memorable experience either. I've still got a long way to go as far as putting myself out there so I can enjoy experiences I would otherwise miss out on but i'm trying. It's a day to day process and i'm not the only one that goes through social anxiety. When I remember that it makes it not that hard. Part of the struggles in life I think come from the fact that we often feel alone. We feel that no one could possibly know what we are going through but in sharing my feelings with others I've learned that a lot of people have the same struggles. My diploma sits in my room in a spot where I see it everyday. It's a good accomplishment. It reminds me that I made it through thirteen years of school but it also reminds me to put my best foot forward and that regrets of the past don't have to be future regrets.

If could re-live one day of your life, which day would you choose?

I had joined the Navy and after one day in boot camp a psychologist decided that I didn't belong there. There is a lot to what happened and perhaps someday I will blog about it but for now I want to talk about the last day I spent in separations. It wasn't enough that I was being discharged but I had to wait in separations for two weeks before they sent me home. It was a very rough experience. Now as I was nearing the end I couldn't wait to go home. On my last full day I really felt that I needed to stay busy otherwise that day would have felt like an eternity. So I volunteered for a work party. It wasn't mandatory on this day but I felt it would be good for me. This work party took place in the building where they hold the graduation ceremonies. Up until this point I had only seen pictures of the place from when my brother in law graduated from boot camp. We were assigned to clean bleachers and mop floors. At first it didn't bother me that much. I don't mind doing that kind of work. I used to clean the floors at a grocery store I worked at and to be honest it was one of my favorite jobs. I found it relaxing. I was dusting off the bleachers and after a while of doing this I had to stop to kind of catch my breath. I looked out over the entire room. Other than the few of us assigned to clean the area it was empty. The thought occured to me that this was as far as I would ever get in the Navy. I pictured my family sitting on the bleachers looking out at all those graduating, searching for me but never finding me, there faces frowning in disappointment. I just wanted to make them proud for once instead of always letting them down. I glanced over at the other guys cleaning and wondered briefly if they were thinking the same thing. If I could re-live this day I would have stayed in the compartment and shined my shoes or something. By choosing to keep myself busy all I really accomplished was making myself feel like a failure and in this one case that wasn't true. If I ever look back at that whole experience and think of myself as a failure I remind myself that I didn't quit the Navy, the choice was made by someone else. Out of the whole experience it was only that one day that I would change. I wouldn't go back and stop myself from signing up in the first place. The experience as a whole made me a much stronger person although it took me awhile to realize that.

What is your biggest ecological or environmental concern? What are you doing to make a difference?
Sponsored by One Million Acts of Green brought to you by Cisco.

I love the outdoors. I live in an area that just stepping outside makes me feel like I am a part of nature. I could get on an atv and within five minutes i'm in the moutains and can't see the town in which I live. It's quite lovely to have that. Sometimes when riding around on the atv is see an area that is littered with trash. Often it's empty beer cans and food containers. I have nothing against the beer drinker. I have been known to knock back a few every now and then. But throwing trash around bothers me. Occasionally I clean up what I see but not often because I find that the mess is often to big. The sad thing is that most of this trash isn't place there by people from out of town but instead by people that live around here but don't realize that what they are doing isn't good for the environment. I always make it a point to clean after myself. If i'm out camping I leave the area I was in nicer than before I got there. They taught me this in the boy scouts but they didn't need to. I've always been this way. I just love nature and appreciate the peace and the beauty that it offers. If i'm ever fortunate enough to have children of my own I want them to be able to enjoy nature as I have. I would just encourage people to clean up after themselves. The world is going to be here long after we are gone. Let's leave it looking nice for the next generation.

What change have you made in your life that you're most proud of?
Sponsored by Nature Made.

Stepping out of my comfort zone has been the best thing i've ever done. I was content at one time to keep myself in the background. I didn't want to draw attention to myself because I didn't think there was anything about me that anyone would find interesting. I was scared of being looked down on and the idea of being humiliated horrified me. If I put myself in that vulnerable position I was bound to cause myself much sorrow. These feelings wrapped themselves around me like a noose and the only way I felt comfort was by deciding to keep to myself. That was the only way I could feel safe. For years I was like this. It was when I finally stepped out of my comfort zone and started talking to people that I found happiness and most of all strength to handle the down moments. We all have them. It's a characteristic that links us. When we realize that, the feelings that weigh us down aren't as strong. They never leave us completely. It is a day to day process but we are all strong enough to handle it. Especially when we realize we are not alone. Now someone reading this that suffers from being a wallflower might not fully agree. They might think that there is no way someone can know this and the only thing I can really say is that I was that way. That's how I know. If I really think about my life and all of the changes I've made I can honestly say that this is what i'm most proud of.