1,000 words of self

1,000 words of self
Written September 4, 2007

My pen name is Air-Stan, I'm a Capricorn, but that doesn't matter to me. I enjoy Redbull Vodkas when I'm too tired to start the night off with beer, my middle name is Mark, and I once had a cork collection. I love cheeseburgers and I hate curry. If I could sum up my childhood in eight seconds, I'd tell you about rollerblading home at sunset after playing a long game of hockey two blocks away and how I could smell dinner as I cruised up our driveway. The first day I learned how to ride a bike and went down my first hill I hit my first telephone pole and received my first set of stitches on my mouth. My first real kiss was with a girl named Katie Wisnewski in 9th grade. Two days later I'd learn that she was on Ecstasy and that I was one of five kids she kissed that night. It isn't my proudest memory. I used to wear Ninja Turtles feet pajamas. I wish I still had them. Quite often, when I tell a girl that I worked as a pre-school teacher for three summers, she wants to make out with me. I day dream a lot about being in my own music video. I get sick a lot, but tell people that I hardly ever do. I still take baths. One time I got my cat, Jinx, high when my parents were on vacation. I was smoking a blunt and blew a few hits in his face. When he died a few months later I blamed myself. One of my most embarrassing moments was when Matt Handy panced me in 3rd grade in front of all my friends. I was wearing bright orange boxer shorts and ran out of the room so no one could see me cry. My favorite thing about women is how they can make you feel like there isn't a care in the world, even if it's only for a brief moment. My least favorite thing about women is that they're all as crazy as I am, and crazy people crave something sane, and two crazies combined make for painfully beautiful confusion. I guess though, since confusion is much more exciting than knowing where and who you are, it is why I am commonly attracted to women who others would label clinically insane. I use to look down at fallen pennies convinced that if the first penny I'd seen that day was heads up I'd have a good day and if it was tales it'd be a shitty day. It was a good lesson in perception, because it always came true. I still catch myself doing it sometimes. I have a 1,000 word article due for work at 1 pm this afternoon and have barely started it. My favorite sound in the world is when two bowling balls hit one another. July 23rd is a date I look forward to every year, although I have no idea why. Sometimes I like to picture my life as a movie poster. The poster changes constantly and features all the main characters in my life at that period of time posing beside me. I used to touch the bottoms of pools on the last day of every vacation so they would remember me. I broke my arm on a bunny slope in Vermont. I wish I could tell you a helicopter picked me up off the snow in dramatic fashion, but in reality I was put on a sled and guided 10 feet to the health center. I am having a lot of trouble believing in God lately, I have been leaning more towards life being the brain child of a group of writers. They are constantly adding new characters, twists and turns, ups and downs and always keep it interesting, at least interesting to me. Too many of the right things work out too well, and too many of the wrong things don't, so I just can't find a reason why I am wrong on the matter. Among all of my out of the box type beliefs, my "writers instead of God" theory gets the most disgruntled reactions. I like to think that people aren't ready for such a theory, which makes me feel original. I don't want to let go of the notion that there is no heaven though. I'd like to believe that if there is a heaven you receive one day to paint the sky. You don't get to paint it right away though, you have to be ready. What you do is you watch your own life over and over again until you find the perfect colors and shades to match your life's vibe. Clouds are the obstacles you had to overcome, blue is for all the good times. When you see a crazy vibrant sunset or sunrise, those are for the moments, people and memories that can't be summed up as good or bad or obstacles, or explained in just a few words, but are too important and to be left uncaptured. I am undecided on what rain means. The common answer would be that it's a bad thing, but I think maybe it's a statement by the painters that they just want to touch enough people as possible before they are forgotten. I think, even if your canvas looks a bit bland, the process of defining yourself through artistic reflection once your life is over is the only definition of the word closure I can ever wrap my head around. I always wonder how other people would choose to paint theirs? I think I know how I'd do mine but it's much too early to tell at this point. So far though, there'd be a lot of blue and a whole lot of purple red and yellow. If I write this tomorrow it will be completely different. I write because I have always believed you are only as good as what you leave behind.