A Memo Concerning: Avril Shits, Subaru Submarines, and Time.

Well I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to stop apologizing for the time gaps between these memos. While the complaints for my lack of consistency are flattering it has become painfully obvious that your requests have a motivation power rating of shitballs. Besides, it has always been my goal to not suck at anything I do. Call it pride, call it OCD, call it fear, call it pretension, call it precociousness, call it my own insecurity, call it shut the hell up. The fact is I’ve learned some things in the past couple of months and now I’m ready to write about them.
For those of you who may or may not know a couple of months ago I almost died in a bizarre and cinematic car accident. It took me only a matter of hours to realize that it was the worst, the best, and most important event of my life to date. I’d like to think that it has changed me, but then again I have never been settled long enough to feel that I have ever stopped changing. It is noteworthy because the result, as many of you have come to expect, has given fruit to some pretty kick ass realizations. So, without further adieu, A MEMO CONCERNING: Avril Shits, Subaru Submarines, and Time.

A couple of weeks ago I waited patiently behind an undulating, portly woman as she made her way up a flight of stairs at my work. By patiently waiting I mean cursing her undisciplined, fat curdled ass as it made its way up to my destination with the same amount of determination as a bottle of molasses fighting the forces of gravity. I would have passed her if it wasn’t for fear of her random, vicious grabs for the handrails. They landed so desperately that I was sure if I didn’t time my move past her perfectly her hands would permanently plant me into the walls housing the staircase. They call my patience Time.

I contrast this moment with another trip up these same stairs but this time following an elderly couple. He flirtatiously slides his hand across her geriatric ass while pretending to stretch out his arms. She understands his true intention and smiles, bringing herself closer to him. He leans in and tries to hold her hand, she moves away from him and laughs, the wrinkles on her cheeks signifying the years. They finally reach the top of the stairs and leave me. I feel that there is an entire lifetime of love within a span of seconds.

I remember the thud of my Subaru slamming the water, the jolt and then soft fall beneath the surface. The water filling my shoes. At first my body couldn’t move fast enough to match the panic. Flailing arms and rapid breath were silenced only by the thought that these could be my final thoughts. And then I was assaulted with a lifetime of thoughts in a matter of seconds. The places I had dreamed about but had not yet been to. Goals. The people I wanted to laugh with again. Things I wanted to say to faces I have never seen before. Smiles that I had held back. The conversations that would follow. I heard the steady breath of my childhood dog Cid next to my bed on the night that I realized my parents were getting divorced. What would people say about my absence. Would I hurt them? The feeling of my siblings crammed next to me on a couch until there was no me, only the congruent feeling of our self, diverse but not ready to be apart. This all came in a matter of seconds; call it fear, call it pride, call it my insecurity, but I wanted more. I did not realize this until that first breath when I reached the surface again.
But what was this all about? What was its worth? Can it be wasted?

I have realized that taking really intense shits whilst listening to Avril Levigne power ballads may be the most pleasing body-music-body-spirit experiences known to man. I couldn’t appreciate this until staring desperately at a tile floor with a puckered, germ fearing ass as it tried to create an exorcism on a frequently, and recently, usurped thrown. There is something about Avril’s scream that loosens that which desperately clings to the inside of me. She is audio-fiber, musicenema. As someone that is generally an intense anti-fan of her music I feel that this is proof that there is nothing in this world that does not hold some kind of worth.

I have realized that there is a song attached to every girl that I have ever felt myself falling for. A lot of them are shitty pop ballads that would make you want to cram a rhino in your ears in leu of a que-tip. I say “falling for” because I don’t think I have ever really been in love. When people talk about love I feel like that college freshman who wonders what second base is like while attending Human Sexuality 101: I smile and nod my head but can only question if that was what I did that one time when it felt kinda weird. Even still, the songs remain. They used to torture me, remind me of how I had tried to protect myself and then her smile that made me drop my guard and make the same mistakes all over again. But I’ve gotten to a point where I stop cringing at the sound of them and started to realize how sweet it is to have those feelings in the first place. I’ve hurt many and been hurt enough to realize there is no use in doing either. Be honest, be true; do not hope for, or hide, just allow. When I listen to those songs I can go back to that first feeling of slipping into something really fucking rad, the risk, the boldness of it all; that is how I can I love these songs. So now instead of letting them consume me I can simply place them in that giant filing cabinet that time affords me.

Time moves. It moves and so I have the courage to change the dial on the radio, not knowing who or what will touch me, where the next fall will be, the next memory. These days maybe the memories don’t come back to me, maybe they just give me something to step up on.
So that is where I am right now. I have realized that time, in its steady, unforgiving progression, is the only salvation we have. As much as I want to slow it down, to go back, to undo the mistakes I have made, it is only in the changing of days that I can find solace. It charges forward whether we want it to or not because that is the only answer to everything we need: progression. It is only when we reach our end that yesterday finally catches us. When that day finally comes for me I hope to stand on top of my past, let go, and feel it hold me afloat, peacefully, upon the surface.