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fardell24b · 3 years

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Quinn’s Code 13 A Night at Kristen’s

Quinn's Code 13: A Night at Kristen's

Saturday, March 18, 2006

Quinn Morgendorffer. Cindy Brolsma and Stacy Rowe arrived outside their friend, Kristen Leung-Bell's, house. They were going to have a sleep over. It had been organised the previous afternoon after they had all decided that it would be a good opportuntity to get to know each other better, particularly Stacy.

The house was a nondescript building, hidden by the trees in the front yard, at the end of a cul-de-sac.

“Nice trees,” Stacy said, trying to see the house from where she stood next to the mail box. She could only see the front door and two windows, which had blinds drawn. She wondered what was behind those windows. 'Probably nothing out of the ordinary,' she thought.

Kristen heard the doorbell. 'They're here!' she thought. She put the Game Cube controller down and went to the door. “Hi, Cindy, Quinn, Stacy, welcome to the Leung-Bell's,” she said, with a little humorous formality.

“Do you have to be so formal?” Cindy asked, with a slight laugh. Kristen smirked at her long time friend's laugh.

“Huh?” Quinn asked.

“A slight joke,” Cindy explained.

“Oh,” Quinn said.

Stacy turned to Quinn “Wait, you've been her friend for nearly six months, and haven't been over?” she asked.

“I hadn't invited her, and she hadn't asked. We mostly hang out at Cindy's,” Kristen explained, matter-of-factly.

“I suppose,” Stacy said.

“Come in,” Kristen said. 'It is natural that she would be hesitant,' she thought, knowing it would be a while before Stacy would be completely comfortable around them.

“Of course,” Stacy said.

Kristen lead the way inside.

The four teens entered the ktichen, where Kristen's mother was making preparations for dinner. There were delicious smells coming from the stove.

'Something smell's good,' Quinn thought.

“Mom.”

Krista Bell turned at her daughter's voice. “Kristen.”

“You know Cindy.”

“Hi,” Cindy said.

“These are Quinn Morgendorffer and Stacy Rowe,” Kristen said gesturing to both of them in their turn.

“Welcome,” Krista said. She stepped towards Quinn. “I heard about the debate at the Coffee House.”

“I had to say something,” Quinn said. She was about to say something more when she was interrupted.

“That's certain. I also heard about what happened this week,” Krista said. She turned to Stacy. “I'm happy that you were able to stand up to that bully,” she added. 'I don't know why Ms. Li tolerated her behavior!'

“You heard about that?” Stacy asked, uncertainly. The uncertainty showed on her face, but Krista also saw an inner strength.

“Kristen tells me a lot about what happens at school,” Krista said. She lowered her voice. “Unlike Kelly.” She shook her head, wondering where she and her husband had gone wrong with their middle child, not for the first time.

“I see,” Stacy said, also uncertainly. Her nervousness increased, so she started to breath deeply. 'Oh no!' she thought.

“Don't panic, Stacy!” Cindy said. “It's a habit from her work,” she said, as she placed her hand on Stacy's shoulder as a comforting gesture.

“Your work?” Stacy asked.

“All I'm allowed to say is that I work for the Government. The Feds. You understand?” Krista said, with slight hardness to her voice.

“Yes,” Stacy said, still slightly panicky. 'She works for the Government?' she asked herself. She stopped that line of thought and focused on calming herself. She didn't want to know too much. 'It could be anything!'

“You don't have to worry. What is said in this house, doesn't go beyond here,” Krista said, the hardness gone.

“Thank goodness,” Stacy said, more calmly than previously.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I'm happy that you are making good friends. You can rely on Kristen, and Cindy. Quinn, I don't know so well. But I trust my younger daughter's judgement,” Krista elaborated.

Kristen was embarrassed. “Oh, Mom!”

“Thanks!” Quinn said.

“As I was saying, your side of the debate was a good thing. Standing up for the downtrodden. Those who are picked on.”

“Yeah. I had to stop her from treating me badly,” Quinn said. “She has disliked me from the time I arrived.”

“I understand,” Krista said. “I had similar experiences at school,” she elaborated. 'With the help of good friends, I put them behind me,' she thought.

“She's going to go on for ages,” Kristen said with a sigh.

'I guess so,' Stacy thought.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” Krista said, recognising that her daughter wanted to get her friends settled in for the night.

“Cool,” Quinn said.

A minute later, the four friends entered Kristen's room.

“Cool room!” Stacy said, excitedly.

“It is, isn't it?” Cindy said.

“Um, yeah,” Quinn said.

The room was larger than any of their rooms. On one side was her closet, with her bed above it, overlooking the sliding door to an upstairs balcony, which looked over the back yard. Stacy went to the balcony and saw that the back yard had just as many trees as the front yard. She could barely see out.

On the other side, was her computer and entertainment set up, with a large flatscreen television. Most of the walls were taken up with anime and JRPG posters. Quinn looked at those with silent appreciation.

Kristen walked to the closet. She pulled out a guest bed, below the closet. “Here's your usual bed, Cindy,” she said.

“Cool,” Cindy said.

Kristen opened the closet. “There are a couple of inflatable matresses, in there, already inflated,” she said.

Stacy and Quinn quickly found the inflated matresses, and the sleeping bags close by. “Cool,” Quinn said. They took out the matresses and placed them in the middle of the room. Stacy placed hers close to the door to the balcony. Quinn placed hers close to the computer and entertainment setup.

“Great! There is still plenty of room to walk,” Quinn said.

“That's right,” Kristen said with a slight laugh.

“Cool,” Kristen said once they had set up. “Let's go back down.”

“Sure,” Cindy said.

“Certainly,” Quinn said.

When they had come down the stairs, Krista and Kristens's brother Keith were setting the table. “Dinner is almost ready,” Krista said.

Cindy smiled. “Cool,” she said.

“Is that all you have to say?” Stacy asked.

“Just wait until you taste it,” Cindy said. “Ms. Bell is a great cook!”

“I could have been a chef,” Krista said.

“I'll wait until I taste it,” Stacy said.

“Same here,” Quinn said.

Krista just responded with a smile.

“You'll see,” Keith added.

Soon the dinner was ready.

Kristen and Keith sat on one side, with a space between them for Kelly who had not yet come home. Cindy, Quinn and Stacy sat on the other. Krista and her husband sat at the ends.

“You have called Kelly?” Krista asked, once they had all sat down.

“I have, the call went through to voicemail,” her husband, Ken, said, with a tone of great annoyance.

“I don't know why she is so troublesome!” Krista said, with a similar tone of annoyance.

“I don't know either,” Kristen said.

“Nor I,” Keith said.

“She should be home later,” Krista said. She looked at her husband, who said grace.

They then began to eat.

“So, what do you plan to do tonight?” Krista asked.

“We'll watch a couple of movies. Then talk about the upcoming week,” Kristen said.

“Get to know Stacy better,” Cindy said.

“Yeah,” Stacy said, quietly. Louder she said. “Get to know them better.”

Krista smiled. “That's a good plan,” she said.

After dinner, the four friends went back up to Kristen's room.

“So, which movies do we have to watch?” Stacy asked as she entered after the others.

“I have quite a few, although most of them are still on VHS,” Kristen answered.

“Let's look at the DVDs first,” Quinn suggested.

“Sure,” Kristen said.

They looked at Kristen's DVDs and VHS tapes, and quickly found some movies. The first one theyd decided to watch was an anime; Who can see the Future?

As they watched it they discussed the themes of the film.

“That was cool!” Quinn said, when the credits started rolling. “Though I hadn't heard of it.”

“It is fairly obscure,” Kristen said.

“It must be if I hadn't heard of it it,” Quinn said with an honest smile.

“I enjoyed it too,” Cindy said. “What's next?”

Kristen pulled a VHS tape out of the pile. “Muppet Treasure Island?” she asked.

“I haven't seen it,” Stacy admitted. “Is it good?”

“It's really good, quite funny,” Quinn said.

“One of the better adaptations of the source material,” Cindy said as she took the tape from Kristen. She put it into the VCR.

Kristen then used the remote to change the television input from the DVD player to the VCR. She then ejected the anime disk from the DVD player.

“It's based on a book?” Stacy asked.

“Yes, are you saying you haven't heard of Treasure Island?” Cindy asked.

Stacy thought for a moment. “Actually, I have heard of it, but haven't read it, not even in grade school. I was more interested in comics and games,” she said, showing more shame in her voice as she went on.

“Games?” Quinn asked excitedly. “Which games?”

“Mainly on the PlayStation, like Final Fantasy VII and Banjo Kazooie,” Stacy answered.

“It's a good book,” Cindy said, while appreciating Stacy's taste in games.

“You recommend it?” Stacy asked.

“Yes,” Cindy and Quinn said.

“You'll enjoy this movie,” Kristen said as she pressed play.

As they watched the film, they discussed the differences betweem the novel and the film. Stacy chimed in with the few episodes that she had seen of The Muppet Show.

“...Oooo-oooh!”

“Steady now, steady as she goes.”

“Obviously, Brian Henson has continued his father's legacy,” Stacy said.

“Oooo-oooh!”

“Certainly,” Cindy said.

“Wicked fog tonight, sir.”

“He has developed it further,” Stacy continued.

“Oooo-oooh!”

“For instance, this movie has improved, albeit a little, on A Muppet Christmas Carol,” Quinn added.

“It reminds me of the night we ran aground off the Pampas. Half the crew drowned in leaky lifeboats, Such a terrible shame.”

“I agree,” Kristen said.

“Leaky lifeboats?”

“A Muppet Christmas Carol, I have seen that, years ago,” Stacy said.

“A common occurrence, Sir. A little used piece of equipment falls into disrepair and... I'm not saying we have problems...”

“Still...”

“Pay attention here, Stacy,” Kristen said.

“Sure,” Stacy said.

After watching the memorial service for Mr. Arrow, Stacy told the others what she remembered of A Muppet Christmas Carol. At least until Professional Pirate started, anyway...

“So, what did you think of that movie?” Kristen asked once the credits started rolling.

“It's quite good. I hope the library has a copy of the novel,” Stacy said.

“I'm sure it does,” Cindy said.

“Good,” Stacy said, brightening.

Kristen looked at the time. “Ten fifty,” she said.

“Huh?” Stacy said.

“Ten to eleven,” Kristen said.

“Oh,” Stacy said. “No time for another movie.”

“But there is time for an episode of an anime,” Quinn said.

“That would be cool,” Stacy said.

“I have a few,” Kristen said as she started rewinding the Muppet Treasure Island tape.

“Cool,” Quinn said.

“You can choose,” Kristen said to Quinn.

“Sure,” Quinn said.

Quinn looked through Kristens's anime DVDs. Soon she found something. “You got it!” she exclaimed in delight.

“Yes,” Kristen said simply.

“What is it?” Stacy asked.

“One Piece!” Quinn said with a squee.

“What's it about?” Stacy asked.

“A boy who wants to become King of the Pirates,” Kristen answered.

“I see. Let's watch it then,” Stacy said.

After they watched the first episode of One Piece, they started getting reading for bed. This was made easier by the fact that the Leung-Bells had two bathrooms upstairs, but it was still approaching midnight before they were all ready.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

It took time for Stacy to get to sleep, especially in an unfamiliar place. “Hard to get to sleep,” she said after fifteen minutes. Suddenly she heard a crash, as of a door being slammed. “What's that?” she asked.

Kristen was still awake. “Oh, it's just Kelly arriving home late,” she said.

“Oh, your sister,” Stacy said. She got up, and looked at the other two. Both Quinn and Cindy were fast asleep. Soon, Stacy heard shouting. She was concerned “Do they shout at her a lot?”

“She never tells them what she is doing,” Kristen said.

“I see,” Stacy said.

After a while, the shouting stopped, and the door slammed again. “It sounds like she has left again...” Kristen said with concern.

“Does she have somewhere else to go?” Stacy asked.

“She does have friends,” Kristen said.

“Oh,” Stacy said.

“Whether they are good influences or not, I'm not sure.”

“OK,”

Soon, there was a knock on the bedroom door. Kristen climbed down and went to the door. “Yes?” she asked.

“Kelly has gone to a friend's for the night,” Krista whispered, with disappointment in her voice.

“She'll be back tomorrow, right?”

“No idea,” Krista said with resignation. “I'll call her friends in the morning.” She moved into the room. “They're asleep, right?”

“Cindy and Quinn are. I'm not sure about Stacy,” Kristen answered.

“Stacy?” Kristen asked, louder.

“I couldn't hear you. I know you were talking about something, but I didn't hear!” Stacy said, quietly.

“That's OK,” Krista said. “But there are ways to get asleep. Have you tried, a glass of milk before bed?”

“No,” Stacy answered.

“Come downstairs, I'll get you one,” Krista said.

“Sure,” Stacy said.

Krista poured the milk. “You did hear what went on?” she asked.

“Not really,” Stacy replied.

“Good,” Krista said with a sigh of relief.

“I don't want to know,” Stacy said.

Soon, Stacy did manage to go to sleep. She was happy to have made such good friends...

#daria #fan fiction #quinn morgendorffer #stacy rowe

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violetsystems · 4 years

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#personal

I ended the week in a totally different position where I started. Much like everything I do for myself, I don’t really tell anybody the specifics. Here is about as specific as it gets. Mostly because it’s written public record. I don’t have real friends I can trust to share any of this with. It’s the truth. Ironically I can trust nobody really to read these other than a select few. Instagram reminded me of a video I took in 2016 in an area of South Korea called Dongdaemun Silk Road. My face looks worn, lonely and afraid. I spent so many years traveling alone to get away from all the pressures. The group thinking and cliques ran everything back home. For the record they still do. I thought I could start fresh by running away. Years later I’m locked in my apartment staring down its legacy. Bank statements and a series of zeroes. I spent money. I housed myself under horrible conditions at times. I knew no one. I stayed in hostels and learned how to rely on strangers. Somehow looking back at it now via the filter of algorithms it means next to nothing. It’s a reminder of a long list of things I’ve done to become the person I am today. A person who is invisible, meaningless, and ridiculed on a bad day. On a good day I’m looking at what I owe. I don’t have as many hangups about the past. Oddly I look older and more fatigued in that video from four years ago. Weighed down by trying to keep up. Constantly measuring myself against fake, smiling masks on the internet. The news confirms that these people exist. That they are more valid and successful than I am. But these people are empty. And the world is full of them. Full of people wanting to be just like them. And also full of people who can’t understand what my problem is. And for the record as of today there isn’t much of one. I navigated a literal fucking minefield the last six years. Three and a half years after quitting drinking silently, I had nobody really to rely on. I had my words. I had a group of people who understood the context enough to read and listen. But facing the reality here in my kitchen on a Saturday morning is weird. Because nobody knows just how deep of a well I’ve pulled myself from. That well connects to a series of tunnels I guess. You could get lost down there. And largely after climbing back up from it, nobody seems to care that I was. In fact, nobody really knows who I am next to another handsome face. And that’s fine. Because maybe in some weird way I find my self worth down that well. I definitely know what I don’t want to go back to. But above ground it’s all in your face. My head is above water financially for the first time in years. I got there trying to prove something that nobody cared about. And in the end I don’t really know if I care. I know I don’t care to look back on any of it. The words I’ve written and spoken are there for artificial intelligence to dig out every once and awhile to remind me I guess. That I’m a valuable human being. No wonder Elon Musk hates AI’s so much.

I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without a job. I explored the world on my own two feet. I had paid time off to do it. Sometimes things were a little too close to home halfway around the world. But imagine if I didn’t see it? What was the value of traveling so far as New Zealand to go on a date only to get ghosted? I have those stories for sure. Most people when you sit down next to them over coffee they struggle for things to talk about. I don’t enjoy talking all that much. People assume I’m antisocial. But then how could someone survive as an antisocial American twice a year overseas by themselves with no guidance or supervision. Other than maybe interpol and some light survelillance. People barely talk to me here in America. If they do, they expect me to initiate it. Happen to be in the same place at the same time. I barely leave the house. You can see me coming from a mile away. I walk on foot everywhere. It takes a lot of energy. It took a lot of money and creative thought to fund my journeys. They were escapes for the record. Escaping a certain frame of mind. And in some ways, learning about customs and cultures to get to know their influence in communities I serviced back home. I even was allowed to set foot in China by myself. I didn’t do much. Ate a cheeseburger. But still. Nobody cares other than me. I can sit here and reflect when I feel bad or alone that I’m not. That me being isolated, poked and prodded is not what I deserve. That I’m the one who has to do all the work. That I’m the one with all the money and karma to pay it forward. I never see it come back. At least not in the obvious ways. And yet Monday morning when I opened my email it was plain as day. Opportunities. Ones that I understand. There wasn’t a lot of handholding. No validation. I went with my gut. Year after year I went with my gut. I kept to myself. My dreams, my desires, my aspirations. And they grew in secret. I didn’t focus on an outcome. I spent my day to day trying to making myself approach things better. I kept working through distraction after distraction. I stayed indoors and worked on my sanctuary. I bought a humidifier. I even bought a refurbished robot vacuum. Everything syncs perfectly to the notifications on my watch. Like some knock off American Psycho. Everybody would rather say nothing about me than be caught talking shit and get called out for it. So I sit here day after day wondering if this is really what I’m destined for. To pay off my bills completely, be forgotten about, and die. That’s a pretty negative attitude. One I think is understandable when you know the depths of human suffering I’ve been through silently. If it was that bad, you couldn’t tell from the look on my face these days. For the record it was worth it. Becoming a better person. I know just how much. How long it took to climb out of the well. How long it took to be the Ring instead of talking about it. Seven days later my finances are in order. Nothing really changes. Nobody really cares I exist.

It’s a boring feeling. I put my hand up to my chin and prop my head up over the ktichen table. I look around and see books in order. Sunlight through the window of what has become my office that last month and a half. I see peace and quiet. A cat that I learned to feed that sleeps comfortably on the foot of my bed. I do have a different set of people who look at my Instagram. Not that any of that has ever mattered. It’s at least within the same ecosystem. Fashion, exercise, multiculturalism. I guess I fit into that ecosystem a little more naturally now. I’ve been shopping from home still. Still hitting all the drops that I want thanks to Dover Street Market. Still cutting my hair into a style that involves novice stylist skills. No shortage of shame from commercials that it’s not professional. Ordered another three pack of masks. This time military olive. I foresee myself practicing social distancing for the foreseeable future. I’ve come up with some imaginative ideas for keeping work safe. I care about the perceptions and racism surrounding the talk of the virus. I fight them openly and actively. You talk shit about China to me I will fucking eviscerate you right where you stand then walk away. In fact I am totally disgusted with America as a whole these days. It’s still the country I was born in. I live in Chicago. I have this horrible feeling this will all pass and the struggles will be forgotten about like everything else. Nobody remembers the years I spent volunteering for Korean American Chamber of Commerce. I worked for free to make sure a street festival ran like clockwork for three years. That was 2011. I could have used more money. I could have paid off those trips. All those trips. I switched to New York the last three years because it was closer to home. I got those trips down to a science financially. Now I have no idea when I’ll be able to go back. I still get my clothes shipped from there to my door. I’ve done all these things and still people don’t even know who I am. How can anybody respect you when they don’t know what keeps you breathing? They never ask. I am completely fucking alone almost all of the time. When I’m not I’m being watched and followed around for some unknown reason. And if people have been watching all these years what do they know now today? They don’t know how I finished this week. They don’t know how healthy financially I am versus five years ago. I’m still worth nothing. Not worth enough to respect openly or acknowledge without trying to scam, scheme or trick. They don’t even know how healthy I am physically through all of this. And they don’t know how much I love you for real. You do. Who are you? That’s nobody’s business. Just like how I live my life. All I know is I’m still alive and I’ve got the rest of it to live. In that sense another Saturday being by myself. I slept in today for the record. Maybe one day I’ll get to do that with some company. For now I’m going back to bed. <3 Tim

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janellesellsteam · 7 years

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violetsystems · 5 years

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#personal

I have another free weekend from mowing the lawn out in the suburbs. My mom wants to do it the weekend of the start of my vacation to coordinate with her Halloween decorations. This last week was intense on many levels so it is nice to have some alone time to recoup. It seems now more than ever there’s a bit of a conspicuous desperation around me at all times. The exhausting ritual of deciphering who is trying to say what without saying it gets old. There are times when it doesn’t. People are often afraid to talk to each other. When they do it’s pretty much as one sided as flashing a statement shirt in front of your face. In America people fake it until they make it. There’s this ambient pushiness from the status quo here at all times. Chicago can be a little different. People push back. How artfully you resist is largely subjective and often not as effective as you’d like. If I’ve learned anything from bouncing back and forth from here and New York is that consistency is key. So is being nice. Sometimes saying no is the nicest answer you have for some people. Sometimes not saying anything and changing your route completely is better. Navigating the topography of hypothetical fame is mostly an asteroid field of other people’s expectations. People have ideas about you without ever asking for your consent here. That’s anywhere in America and maybe even around the world. A recent Snowden interview revealed that much of America’s surveillance state was in the hands of private contractors. Our freedom of press here is dominated by millionaire pundits with vested interests in privatized capital. Your best bet is a lawsuit. Which is more money more problems as they say. Special interests zone in on what they want to see. Narratives in America are created for political gain all the time and spun right and left in a circle. Most of this is for profit if not all. There are times when journalism holds power accountable. And then there’s times when a talking head goes too far. Companies like Boeing going through what Nike went through in the nineties. With zealots in the background chanting to burn it all down and start over from ash. All very useful revolutionary feelings but the endgame is suspect. With all the love for the Joker lately I’ve been bringing up the riddler a lot more. More so that’s it’s funnier to say “Riddle me this” outloud for no reason. But the Riddler at least had an endgame. A question was being asked. The Joker has no answer. Too much of a failure to stand up without a mask. It’s all a fucking joke so just laugh on the outside and cry on the inside. The same could be said of Batman or worse. Money being his superpower I empathized more when Heath Ledger set it all on fire. A security guard did say they were going to see the movie this weekend. I always try to pick the most positive thing to say in public in my dialogue tree. “Oh Robert Deniro is in that right?” They smiled and nodded. I didn’t anything about incels or guns. I told them to have a nice day.

There’s a time and place for action. Knowing your part in it during particularly heavy and revolutionary times can be stressful. Everybody expects from you what they would not do themselves. People trick you constantly into caring about things that don’t deserve your attention. The politics that I vote for are the jobs of politicians. And yet I’ve had my life and privacy more encroached on by politics than what I’ve gotten back it seems. If the personal is really political then self confidence is the most revolutionary action. Helping others feel confident in the face of all this is a very heroic act. But a knight in public for every cause doesn’t really leave much room for down time. I don’t think it was a waste of my time. I learned a lot of boundaries this summer. I scaled a lot of walls in the process. In the end I’m still right here. Maybe a little less sensitive. For as much as I try not to search for anything algorithms still bring the drama into my feed sometimes. Pictures scroll by and I feel sad, pathetic and alone. I feel like I’ll never be good enough. Never famous enough to be cared about. And then I walk to the grocery store and vice news guerilla interns are there to geotag my every step. For all the time I spend in my apartment, my view from out my ktichen window is plagued by dystopian nightmares. Just like my real dashboard is filled with traces of people I love. What do you really pay attention is on you. Do I really fear missing out of a hallucination of fame that doesn’t really follow any logic other than money? For some people that’s their job. For me I fix computers for artists. The pay and the benefits are far more than I could ever make dj’ing . I have a twenty year continuous resume doing so. I’m sure I could find a job in New York if it made sense. I’m sure I can fly there every two months by myself and stay occupied too. I can tell people feel safe around me. Sometimes I’m just trying to be left alone. Nobody knows how much space I save in my life and for who. Sometimes I get the sense that people do. Sometimes that’s a very beautiful thing to see in action. Like finding a question mark butterfly on a mailbox on your lunch break. How that speaks to you can be as pure as nature or tainted by somebody else’s narrative. That is unfortunately on you and your perspective. For all the traps and tricks society has played on me I always come out looking like a winner. I stayed positive. Sometimes the only winning move is not to play. Good luck unplugging from everything though. The internet is a blessing and a curse. Some platforms just like some movements have so much surface level noise and chaos that nobody gets heard. Some people burrow so deep in doesn’t really matter. In that I’ve found a lot of freedom for myself and what I love. But it’s a constant negotiation. And that’s a labor of love that keeps on going even through the coldest months to come. I didn’t say it was easy. But it’s always been worth it to me to live with what I’ve grown to love and care for deeply in my own way. Love is probably the most revolutionary act there is in time’s like these. But what that looks like requires you to love yourself first before it can even manifest. So maybe the inside world is a good place to start before laying waste to the one outside your window.

Over two years I was inspired by something and someone enough to change. I put things into motion in my life that required personal action. It sucked from what I can remember. But these days I look in the mirror at a different person. I’m still unhappy at times. Last week I got angry and depressed. I thought that everything I tried to become was never going to be enough. I felt trapped, alone and ignored. And I realized that wasn’t actually true and focused on other things. I played games at my kitchen table. I cleaned my shower. I applied data analytics to my bank statement with a microsoft application. I worked out in my kitchen using a Nike app. I made amazing coffee in my kitchen. I rolled more than enough joints to know a thing or two about the World of Warcraft movie. I played records in the back room and streamed Code Vein from my PS4. I thought a lot about what I want and what I desire. I paid attention to some things more and other things less. I listened to my voice when I was speaking and others. Some people always sound unhappy. I sound measured and sane. Sometimes I don’t speak at all. Sometimes there’s things I really desperately want to say. Sometimes I know you already know. I trust that you do. Have faith that you do. And I never really expected anything other than that. And yet miracles are what you make of them. Life can either be one constant paranoid mindfuck or a tiny green planet in a never ending universe. How you see that in your mind is reflected in the words you speak. The pictures you take. The songs you sing. The people you avoid. The bullshit you sacrifice for a garden that blooms yearly. Things don’t happen overnight. If you appreciate how things live and grow you know everything takes time. We’re all so stressed about how much of it we have left. Are we really enjoying any of it as it passes? I know the times I put into challenging myself has rewarded me with good health. People still treat me like a kid all the time. People have been limiting my potential for as long as I remember. It’s kept me out of some bad circles and scenes. I’ve grown largely in isolation by choice. It’s not a fun thing to be alone all the time. It looks worse when you lash out. I’ve been there. Spitting at the ground all summer because some people got it twisted. I thought I could fight these irrational battles that are just for show. I’ve learned it’s more about setting an example. Leading instead of following. These days I can’t seem to avoid all the traffic. Really at the end of the day I just want to run into you. And I do on the highway we call the internet all the time. With your tinted windows and your stretch limousine. You see me waving. Next time I’ll blow you a kiss. I’m sure nobody will notice if I stay in my lane. <3 Tim

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