Drive home...
I was driving home tonight, and took the long way, like I usually do. And the song "Half Acre" by Hem came on, and it got me all nostalgic and stupid, cause that song reminds me of home. So I started thinking about everything that that song brought to mind, and now, because I'm all chatty and shit, you get to hear about it.
It's late night drives by myself with just me and my music and singing loudly.
It's sneaking into an old person's backyard to use their see-saw, and the blockwide games of capture the flag when popularity didn't matter, and decorating the Christmas trees with A Muppet Christmas Carol record playing in the background.
It's hitting a raccoon in the head with a frozen fish, and feeding deer, and finding new kinds of music, and learning how to use the internet, and bowling, and Camp Ihesu with the family, and my sister's wedding and the chaos that lead up to it.
It's random three hour walks on "our route," and the trailer in your drive-way, and exercise balls and tricycles in the middle of the street at 5 a.m. while we watch the sun come up.
It's playing cards in front of the high school, and going up Sugarloaf, and watching the stars on your roof, and shoveling your drive way on snow days so it looked like we did something productive.
It's learning to snowboard, and going down the hill in shorts and t-shirts in March, and making noodles in the lodge and burning popcorn.
It's being chased into the bathroom during middle school dances by stupid boys, and finding notes that are so funny to look back on and remember the drama that made me want to rip my hair out at the time.
It's skinny dipping at your camp, and jumping into the snow after a sauna, and watching the Holy Grail over and over again, and winning duo in forensics with Dennis, his mother, King Arthur and the French.
It's dressing up for Rocky Horror at the ever ghetto Vista theater, with crowd participation and taking people in white clothes..
It's tossing apples between sunroofs in Wal*Marts parking lot, and watching someone cough up Taco Bell while laughing at them, and finding dark places to park the car, and playing DnD in the basement, and losing to Monopoly in record time.
It's bad school dances, complete with lonely slow songs, and good ones filled with interpretively dancing to Evanescence.
It's Sex and the City marathons in your basement, and exploring the Yellow Dog, and the flood of the Dead River, and walking around Presque Isle, and going out on the breakwall, and sitting on the beach, and it's bonfires, and mucking on dirt roads in the middle of the night, and taking lots of dorky pictures of our spazzy faces.
It's my dogs, my cat, my geckos and fish and snake and anole, learning to play the piano and quitting and ultimately regretting it, learning to love the euphonium and give up the trombone.
It's my Papou, and walking to White's with him and getting M&Ms, and sitting on the wall together and eating them, and sorting out his morning pills, and reading Zoobooks and Animorphs, and watching Wishbone and Swat Kats, and Rocko's Modern Life, and Rugrats, Ren and Stimpy, Hey Arnold, Farscape, and Star Trek over and over again.
It's sliding down my stairs on a crushed box, and going fishing with my dad, and making cookies with my mom, and getting kicked out of the hospital for riding the escalators too many times.
And it's the lake, and it's colors and sounds and smells and the ore boats and pine trees and winter and snow piles and sledding.
I can say this place bores me to tears all I want. And it does most of the time. But I love it here, and that stupid song reminds me of all these things and more every time I hear it.
The more you know *jingle from Reading Rainbow*.
It's late night drives by myself with just me and my music and singing loudly.
It's sneaking into an old person's backyard to use their see-saw, and the blockwide games of capture the flag when popularity didn't matter, and decorating the Christmas trees with A Muppet Christmas Carol record playing in the background.
It's hitting a raccoon in the head with a frozen fish, and feeding deer, and finding new kinds of music, and learning how to use the internet, and bowling, and Camp Ihesu with the family, and my sister's wedding and the chaos that lead up to it.
It's random three hour walks on "our route," and the trailer in your drive-way, and exercise balls and tricycles in the middle of the street at 5 a.m. while we watch the sun come up.
It's playing cards in front of the high school, and going up Sugarloaf, and watching the stars on your roof, and shoveling your drive way on snow days so it looked like we did something productive.
It's learning to snowboard, and going down the hill in shorts and t-shirts in March, and making noodles in the lodge and burning popcorn.
It's being chased into the bathroom during middle school dances by stupid boys, and finding notes that are so funny to look back on and remember the drama that made me want to rip my hair out at the time.
It's skinny dipping at your camp, and jumping into the snow after a sauna, and watching the Holy Grail over and over again, and winning duo in forensics with Dennis, his mother, King Arthur and the French.
It's dressing up for Rocky Horror at the ever ghetto Vista theater, with crowd participation and taking people in white clothes..
It's tossing apples between sunroofs in Wal*Marts parking lot, and watching someone cough up Taco Bell while laughing at them, and finding dark places to park the car, and playing DnD in the basement, and losing to Monopoly in record time.
It's bad school dances, complete with lonely slow songs, and good ones filled with interpretively dancing to Evanescence.
It's Sex and the City marathons in your basement, and exploring the Yellow Dog, and the flood of the Dead River, and walking around Presque Isle, and going out on the breakwall, and sitting on the beach, and it's bonfires, and mucking on dirt roads in the middle of the night, and taking lots of dorky pictures of our spazzy faces.
It's my dogs, my cat, my geckos and fish and snake and anole, learning to play the piano and quitting and ultimately regretting it, learning to love the euphonium and give up the trombone.
It's my Papou, and walking to White's with him and getting M&Ms, and sitting on the wall together and eating them, and sorting out his morning pills, and reading Zoobooks and Animorphs, and watching Wishbone and Swat Kats, and Rocko's Modern Life, and Rugrats, Ren and Stimpy, Hey Arnold, Farscape, and Star Trek over and over again.
It's sliding down my stairs on a crushed box, and going fishing with my dad, and making cookies with my mom, and getting kicked out of the hospital for riding the escalators too many times.
And it's the lake, and it's colors and sounds and smells and the ore boats and pine trees and winter and snow piles and sledding.
I can say this place bores me to tears all I want. And it does most of the time. But I love it here, and that stupid song reminds me of all these things and more every time I hear it.
The more you know *jingle from Reading Rainbow*.