Places
It's odd to think about how we attach ourselves to places. Seeing ourselves in that place, back in time, doing what we were doing. And to think things so vividly sometimes, the closest thing to going back in time. Think back yourself. Some insignificant place you memory. A deli, a school hall way, a drive way with friends.
Recently I decided to check out my childhood home. It is still weird to think how long it's been since i've been inside, or even see it.
When I was approaching the house my first thought was "who's fucking cars are in my driveway".
As I slowly idled by the house I rolled my window down and decreased the volume of my music. I don't know for sure but it does seem that lowering the music makes you see better.
But as I creeped by I thought about myself still being there. Sitting on that front stoop the last day I was there. Screaming from the bathroom for someone to get me more toilet paper. Sitting up till 6am, in my den with my brother and friends drinking at an incredibly young age. No seriously, you should've seen us put it down back then it was truly astonishingly a work of art. It took practice, dedication and most of all brothers. I remember my house to be THE house, my friends and my brothers friends a like would love coming. For bonfires, kick backs, parties or just for a few hours. It was truly something to call home.
The more I thought, the farther back I went. From my summers running my normal delinquent behaviors. To those weeks preparing to leave for college. To that morning. To the last new years coming home trashed discussing our eventful evenings. Back, Back. When my brother decided it would be brotherly of him to set up a chair outside the bathroom so I didn't have to take a shit alone. Yea, that is my brother.
Remember the pool, It was above ground; about a 15 foot oval, 5 feet deep. We had a deck you walked up to so you can jump in and that wrapped around half the pool.
Bella our dog at the time would sprint like a horse out the gate from end to end as we played in the pool.
Then one day my dad; threw Bella in,
" Yea dogs, they are natural born swimmers." he said.
Bella has never been in water before this point. He continues to pick her up and toss her a good, 20 feet in the air and SPLASH. In goes Bella
She was kicking, barking, turning in every which direction then my brother got underneath her and helped her.
This was fucking insane to watch at like 6 years old; she was so scared and confused that I wouldn't have been surprised if she had a heart attach. Poor thing.
Anyway, they changed a few things up. The door, instead of off white with a rectangle window, they chose to go with a chestnut brown wooden door with an oval shaped window.
Ok, it looked nice. I am a bit sad leaving, no doubt. Yes not being there is a gut punch sometimes.
But what I have realized is that these memories will always be my memories. Nobody else's. I may not call it home anymore. Life may be completely different but I will always be connected to this place I once called home. This insignificant place, on this insignificant planet, in this insignificant solar system that I connect with deeper than life itself. It is a part of me. It created who I am today.
.
.
As I left I turned the music up. The song was Renegade.
Honestly not a terrible song. Saw A couple kids on bikes up a head, Slowed down.
As I passed these group of girls no more than 9 years old a piece, they all stopped; Heard the song and did the fucking tik tok dance in reaction time. jesus christ...
It was unbelievable seeing how influential this app and these little fucking dances are to such a wide group of individual's. From 7 year olds to 40 year olds... all of them.. forward, side, back, sweep. I don't know, How ever the fuck the dance goes; Im tired of it, can someone post something that has a little more value?
ring ring ring... SOrry phones ringing see ya
Recently I decided to check out my childhood home. It is still weird to think how long it's been since i've been inside, or even see it.
When I was approaching the house my first thought was "who's fucking cars are in my driveway".
As I slowly idled by the house I rolled my window down and decreased the volume of my music. I don't know for sure but it does seem that lowering the music makes you see better.
But as I creeped by I thought about myself still being there. Sitting on that front stoop the last day I was there. Screaming from the bathroom for someone to get me more toilet paper. Sitting up till 6am, in my den with my brother and friends drinking at an incredibly young age. No seriously, you should've seen us put it down back then it was truly astonishingly a work of art. It took practice, dedication and most of all brothers. I remember my house to be THE house, my friends and my brothers friends a like would love coming. For bonfires, kick backs, parties or just for a few hours. It was truly something to call home.
The more I thought, the farther back I went. From my summers running my normal delinquent behaviors. To those weeks preparing to leave for college. To that morning. To the last new years coming home trashed discussing our eventful evenings. Back, Back. When my brother decided it would be brotherly of him to set up a chair outside the bathroom so I didn't have to take a shit alone. Yea, that is my brother.
Remember the pool, It was above ground; about a 15 foot oval, 5 feet deep. We had a deck you walked up to so you can jump in and that wrapped around half the pool.
Bella our dog at the time would sprint like a horse out the gate from end to end as we played in the pool.
Then one day my dad; threw Bella in,
" Yea dogs, they are natural born swimmers." he said.
Bella has never been in water before this point. He continues to pick her up and toss her a good, 20 feet in the air and SPLASH. In goes Bella
She was kicking, barking, turning in every which direction then my brother got underneath her and helped her.
This was fucking insane to watch at like 6 years old; she was so scared and confused that I wouldn't have been surprised if she had a heart attach. Poor thing.
Anyway, they changed a few things up. The door, instead of off white with a rectangle window, they chose to go with a chestnut brown wooden door with an oval shaped window.
Ok, it looked nice. I am a bit sad leaving, no doubt. Yes not being there is a gut punch sometimes.
But what I have realized is that these memories will always be my memories. Nobody else's. I may not call it home anymore. Life may be completely different but I will always be connected to this place I once called home. This insignificant place, on this insignificant planet, in this insignificant solar system that I connect with deeper than life itself. It is a part of me. It created who I am today.
.
.
As I left I turned the music up. The song was Renegade.
Honestly not a terrible song. Saw A couple kids on bikes up a head, Slowed down.
As I passed these group of girls no more than 9 years old a piece, they all stopped; Heard the song and did the fucking tik tok dance in reaction time. jesus christ...
It was unbelievable seeing how influential this app and these little fucking dances are to such a wide group of individual's. From 7 year olds to 40 year olds... all of them.. forward, side, back, sweep. I don't know, How ever the fuck the dance goes; Im tired of it, can someone post something that has a little more value?
ring ring ring... SOrry phones ringing see ya
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