Have and Have Not

Everyone grows up differently, and even the term "growing up" means different things for different people. I might not consider myself entirely grown up, and that might not change. It's so easy to start thinking about the things I never got to experience--about the things I will never get another chance to experience. It's somewhat disturbing that it's that much easier to think about what you don't have than what you do. I'm pretty sure you all knew that, but I needed a way to explain how I got to where I am right now. I'm working on this thing, you see, where once I acknowledge the negative thoughts going through my head, I do a search for a corresponding positive one. While it would be nice to know how certain things feel, in some cases, that's impossible. Rather than agonize over the decision of whether I would change my circumstances in a hypothetical alternate dimension, I'm just going to look at what is and what has been, without passing judgment or looking for answer.

1. I will never know what it's like to be a teenager driving a car. I've never experienced the freedom that comes with being able to pick up and leave whenever you want to, of being in control of your own transportation in all circumstances. I've never known what it's like to sit behind the wheel of a car and drive alone into the darkness with the radio turned up all the way. I don't know what it's like to pull up to a girl's house in my own car and wait for her as she walks down the driveway. Most people's teenage years are centered around this and the independence that comes along with taking that next step toward self-sufficiency. I missed this. I missed a lot of things in high school. But, to be fair, I'm not sure I was all that interested at the time, and I think I only now realize what I was missing. (Believe me, there were plenty of other reasons to be miserable in high school.)

HOWEVER, I do know what it's like to walk ten miles, twenty miles, or more in a single day. There's a certain satisfaction that comes with completing a journey, however small, and having to walk everywhere has made me realize the real value of many things. If I'm going to go somewhere, it will take time and energy, so it needs to be worth it. Plus, I know what it's like to walk down an empty road with my favorite song playing behind me and the sun rising in front of me, with everything I need to survive (for a given period of time) strapped to my back. That's freeing in so many ways. I have learned to value my body so much more because if I were not physically capable of doing these things, I wouldn't have been able to experience much of what I have, and that goes beyond just walking a few miles to the grocery store at 2 or 3 in the morning. '

2. Childhood experiences: I've never been to summer camp. I've never been to a family reunion. I never got to drive a power wheels car. I never got to play football or baseball competitively. I've never seen Bambi, along with a host of other children's movies, and I've probably never played half of the playground games typical of kids in my generation. I didn't really play at recess. I just walked around by myself. I never really knew what it was like to play with other kids after school. I actually didn't know that was normal until I saw that everyone else was doing it, and then I started to get lonely. But I suppose I never really started interacting with other people on a consistent basis until seventh grade or so, and my first experiences were definitely awkward. It took me years to get it right, and I still fuck up. Because I never really had friends, there are a lot of things I didn't get to do when I was little--a lot of memories I wish I could have but don't and never will. I guess that's what children are for, but the way things are looking for me now, I doubt that will ever happen. (That's another brain crisis in itself.)

HOWEVER, I spent my summers playing with my brother, swimming in our pool, pretending I was the one who was going to save the day, pretending that people loved me because of my weirdness. But I would never let anyone know that. I remember nights when I would sneak out past midnight to go swimming. Not many twelve year olds can appreciate every sound the water makes when there's nothing in the air but the stillness of the night. I played sports...a lot. I did things, rather than being the type of kid who just had things. Because of a lonely childhood and an inhuman attention span, I'm actually really good at a lot of things. I've just realized this in the last few years: My random skills along with my dedication to practicing new skills are extremely valuable assets in the real world. And by real world, I mean the one that matters, not the one that includes your job, unless of course, you do something that matters for a living. I remember summers at the beach and how the only thing that mattered was how far I could travel on one wave...and maybe if I could beat my brother. I remember a childhood where my parents didn't force me to be a girly girl (most of the time). I was sad a lot, sometimes lost. But my childhood was one that taught me the important things in life, even when I didn't want it to. I never had the chance to be ignorant or naive, but I stop being allowed to have a childhood altogether when my brother was arrested seven years ago. High school turned into bullshit, and I started to see through everything. I started to value other people, and I began to question things so much more. This was a shitty thing to happen, but it opened my eyes to the way the world really works.

3. I'll never know what it feels like to run out the hole at Heinz Field with a snare drum. And I'll never know how it feels to march off that field for the last time while playing the fight songs. My drumline experience turned sour near the end. HOWEVER, while I may not have hundreds of friends from it, I know there are least a dozen people I could call right now, some of whom might even profess to hate me, who would be there for me if I needed them. My college experience was molded around my involvement in the drumline, and I'm thankful that I really know what it means to be Crew. And I'm hopeful that I can share that with someone else someday. And, let's be real, I became a kick-ass cymbal player. I do wish I could have appreciated that more in the early years, but I was working so hard to prove other people wrong that I failed to see what I had right in front of me. I now live my life similarly to how I approach playing cymbals: I'm going to change your mind by showing you something you've never seen before, and it's going to be AMAZING.

Doing all this has put me in a funny sort of mood. I kind of feel like taking that walk right now. Nostalgia can be scary. I'm not sad, but I am wondering about a lot of people from my past at the moment. I'm wishing I could be in touch with a few specific people, but for now, I have myself. And that should be, and is currently, enough.