To charge through the unfortunates.

We've all been there, cascading down the halls of a musty old catacomb.  Locker lined walls seem to emphasize the all to real feeling of entrapment.  "Welcome to the Dungeon" is the punchline, so you continued the tour with your new found peers doing just what they do best, and what they'll continue to do for the next best years of their lives, follow.  Are you the only one that can feel the onset of an impending storm?  Has the oblivion set in so readily into these weak minds, and more importantly did i just witness the first onslaught in what was to be a near decade of literary defilement play out the words of Robert Frost looming as "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by."  Words spoken by a student government, who's catchphrases, comprised of misrepresented context flow like the water down the hall from the busted ass water line in the bathroom.  "Welcome to High School, now to to class."

Colloquialism.  To bind a single term to my next few and uncomfortable years of high school situations i may add that i found solace only in the terms associated with this word.  I understand, only now that I'm older, that these years of my life are fickle and irrespective of the rest of my life, so i wont dote on them longer than my mind will cling.  And that cling has quickly and abruptly lost me already.  It is important, however, to understand the simple fact that the years spend fending off an unreasonable chill factor along with the lack of social normalcy in situations that have been previously meant for relaxation and socialization have made a mess of the part of the brain that Jimmy Buffett's aura should have permeated.  In fact, we didnt have a Margaritaville within 1000 miles of my upbringing.

To bind the awkwardness to your mind... I submit the fact the a summer in Alaska is not worth the year spend in tragedy.  Not if you're content only  for the summer sun and mid latitude doldrums.  So as I permeate hostility and incompatibility to the state of my upbringing i ask nothing of pity from you, only that you relate the same thoughts to your own life and appreciate the perspective... No matter how bleak.







  

A Throwback As A Matter Of Fact

As i try to relate to my former self, that is to say the high school graduate from Palmer, Alaska, i begin to accumulate a euphoric sense of reminiscence to the fact that: As young as I am, I've lived more vibrantly and with more passion than most older people have ever dreamed.  It seems to me a fast track from then until now, and while I have consistently bypassed the opportunity to tell the tales of my expedition from fear of boring my muster, I have lately given premise to the idea that maybe, just maybe, the doldrums of sleepy high school politics and severely estranged romantic situations have given way to a charming and slightly historic series of events that have led me to my modern day substance.

    Allow me to recall to the best of my ability, the alluring landscapes of a life that seems all too distant in my past.  The good times, the soft spoken minutes, the scenes of the heavy heartened.  Warrant me as my stories are released in all clarity, and humor me in the medium of impressionism.  I believe that we all have a story to tell.  Maybe some realize the importance more than others, but as we do, we also inherit the responsibility to the soft spoken to tell their story as it relates in our lives, we the articulate, and us the choreographers. 

    Join me as I search for my story, and as the chapters unfold, learn the language and tell it to the inquisitive.  We're all riding the same wave at some point,  we all share in that communion.