Even the strongest die
I've decided not to feel guilty about being sad about being "too old" to march. I always said that colorguard was not going to be my life forever....only for eight years/10 seasons. I've gathered a lot of memories and a ton of friends. I wondered the past couple of days why I seem to miss my drum corps friends more than, say, my high school marching band friends. It's not that I like them more, or their cooler people...I think it's because I got to know my high school marching band friends outside of the activity, I knew my them backwards and forwards, still do (kind of). I certainly know them better than my DC friends, which I think might add a bit of mystery. I've always heard that people change on tour, their behavior and attitudes about everything are tested, and either cemented or thrown away like so much trash(truck). I've seen some people change so much it scared me, others who merely became the concentrated version of what they already were. But I digress, the fact of the matter is, I don't really know my DC friends and perhaps I never will. Sure, I might know your last name, your university, maybe even your favorite color, but I have no idea how you relax, how you party, how you take your coffee, how you handle purely mental stress or how you do your homework. These are all fundamental things that I know about my HS friends and even my collegiate friends. My point is that I miss my DC friends seemingly more than my other friends because I feel like they would have been great friends but I never really got a chance to know them. They, collectively, are like "the girl who got away." I will only know how they handle physical stress, how long it takes them to recover from a severe sunburn, the degree to which they like pop/alcohol/cigarettes/pot, their opinion on wearing or not wearing sunscreen, how much they despise the people back home who seem to have no stomach for stress, no head for work, and no strategy to be the best they can be, I might even know what it sounds like when they're making out and, of course, which meal from the food truck is their favorite (egg rolls, chicken patty, and pancakes, in that order). They are like real phantoms that will never be real people because none of them have ever existed in reality, because for everything that Drum Corps is, it is NOT reality. In their mystery, in their shady-ness, in their half existence, they are the most enchanting Phantoms I will ever encounter...to quote a dear friend of mine "People fall apart when you look at them too closely" These people will never fall apart, they will never let me down, they will stay the way are forever, they will fill the same drum corps hole eternally, and in that way, their stability is the most attractive thing of all, and I will miss it dearly...
I love all of my friends, the woman going to Korea, ones going to grad school, the mbitch living in Minnesota, the ones with me everyday, all of my roommates and their friends, the person I used to chew on when practice got boring (and she on me), the one for whom the banana was yellow, the man with whom I spoke with by Wells on more than one occasion, the lady into art restoration, all of the Butters (old and new), my thunder storm partner at ASU, the man named for an island, my favorite Texican, the girl who was me for Halloween in 2000 and I was her, the guy who was made to feel like a man, the one whose favorite year is 1892, the boy who took indecent photos only to be found out by his mom and little sister, all of the people I've kissed, all of the girls who DIDN'T deserve to be in the back of the field, the scout who has his own picture hour, the girl who found a lucky snowman at Keith in December, the girl who named her snail Oliver Mable, Your Highness, the man who took the middle name of Bon-Bon at my request, the boy who will grow to be the best father even if his doesn't live to see it, to the scandalous, wonderful, glorious boys and girls out there who have made my life what it is...SUTA to you, for all that you do = )
I love all of my friends, the woman going to Korea, ones going to grad school, the mbitch living in Minnesota, the ones with me everyday, all of my roommates and their friends, the person I used to chew on when practice got boring (and she on me), the one for whom the banana was yellow, the man with whom I spoke with by Wells on more than one occasion, the lady into art restoration, all of the Butters (old and new), my thunder storm partner at ASU, the man named for an island, my favorite Texican, the girl who was me for Halloween in 2000 and I was her, the guy who was made to feel like a man, the one whose favorite year is 1892, the boy who took indecent photos only to be found out by his mom and little sister, all of the people I've kissed, all of the girls who DIDN'T deserve to be in the back of the field, the scout who has his own picture hour, the girl who found a lucky snowman at Keith in December, the girl who named her snail Oliver Mable, Your Highness, the man who took the middle name of Bon-Bon at my request, the boy who will grow to be the best father even if his doesn't live to see it, to the scandalous, wonderful, glorious boys and girls out there who have made my life what it is...SUTA to you, for all that you do = )