Seasons Of Love
Hi all.
Now, I try and keep 2 rules with each post I do. Rule # 1 is that each post title must be a song title. The reason for this is because my life revolves around music. Its what I do that keeps me happy, and, at times, it is also my worst enemy. Music is so a part of my life that everything I do has a beat or a melody.
Rule # 2 is that every song title must pertain to the context of my post. The reason here should be obvious.
Today I'm going to break rule #2. Sort of. The song title for this post is "Seasons of Love", from the musical RENT. (This is for the few readers I have who aren't Rentheads) The song asks how you measure a year, eventually coming to the conclusion that love is the appropriate form of measurement.
My post talks about love. It also talks about an entire year. Specifically, this past year, which I've let slide through my posts. (sorry, I've got the OBC playing on the lappy)
About a year ago I posted a story about a friend of mine who died tragically in a car accident. What I forgot to write about was that one of my closest friends was driving the car that night. I not have spoken to him since last October, because he has driven himself so close to the brink that it is doubtful that any human being will be able to pull him back.
So many of us lost a little bit of ourselves when Sam died. For me, I lost my tendency to push my problems off on someone else. I stopped blaming other people for my actions. Ironically enough, while I learned this lesson, I also knew that the powers that be would soon pick up the torch that I left behind, and I was right. Six months after Sam's death, the Minnesota highway patrol turned their attention from the driver that caused the accident, who is still at large, to Josh, my friend who had been driving the car when it rolled three times, partially ejecting Sam from the car and snapping her neck. Josh was charged with Vehicular Manslaughter, ( These charges were dismissed) and is currently involved in a wrongful death suit with Sam's mother.
I'm sure you are wondering where the love part of this post comes in. Well here it is. During this time, while dealing with the grief of losing a friend so suddenly, I became involved with a woman, Rachel, who I had (/have?) been chasing after since my senior year of High School. We had been together before, and I was the first person she had been intimate with. I'm not sure if we got together because I was grieving my friend, who had died only days before, and she felt sorry for me, or it was because she wanted to be with me. In the end it didn't matter. We were finally together, and that was all that mattered to me.
It was June 27th, and I was attending Sam's wake when I realized that I was in love. This girl was everything I wanted in life. Smart, pretty, and just as cynical and sarcastic as I was... possibly more so. We began to introduce each other to our friends, something we had never done before. This part became a little bit complicated, because when people asked how we met, or how long we had been together, we would look at each other with very quizzical looks, since not even we could remember all the ups and downs of our year-and-a-half on and off relationship. Nevertheless, we were happy and content with each other.
In August, I moved out of my mothers house and into a house with three friends. I had a good job, a decent house, and a great girlfriend whom I was madly in love with. My life was great. This, of course, did not sit well with Fate, who decided to cut off my testicles and feed them to me. I found out that Rachel had been doing something that I was vehemently against. Looking back, I made a bigger deal out of it than necessary, but at the time I was angry and suggested that she and I take a break. During our break, I got involved with someone else, and immediately regretted it. When Rachel and I got back together, she confronted me about it, since she and the other person had a mutual friend. I admitted to what had happened and, miraculously, she forgave me. I thanked the universe for her forgiveness, and resolved to be a better person to her.
This is, of course, easier said than done. I tried so hard to be a better person, but I always felt inadequate. Whether it was because I didn't have the money to take her out or buy her presents, which to this day she says never mattered, or that I never felt like her family liked me, I always felt like I disappointed her. I hid all of these feelings behind cockiness and humor. We continued being together.
In October, two events changed my life and my relationship with Rachel. The first came when my brother left for San Diego and the Marine Corps. I am very outspoken about my beliefs on the military, and I was against his enrollment in boot camp. Nevertheless, I supported his choice, and when he left on October 15, I wished him luck. On the inside, I was dying. For some reason though, I couldn't voice this to Rachel. I'm really not sure why I never told her.
The other event of October was me losing my job. I was accused of theft, and was asked to leave. I'm still quite bitter about the situation, because of the dubious circumstances surrounding the incident. They would never have been able to prove that I took anything that wasn't mine. Still, I was fired because I was the most likely suspect, and they didn't want to take any chances. I was very angry, and I took it out on everyone else, including Rachel. This strained our relationship even more.
This seems like a good point to stop for the night. Tomorrow night: New Years Eve, and the aftermath.
For now, Ta.
Now, I try and keep 2 rules with each post I do. Rule # 1 is that each post title must be a song title. The reason for this is because my life revolves around music. Its what I do that keeps me happy, and, at times, it is also my worst enemy. Music is so a part of my life that everything I do has a beat or a melody.
Rule # 2 is that every song title must pertain to the context of my post. The reason here should be obvious.
Today I'm going to break rule #2. Sort of. The song title for this post is "Seasons of Love", from the musical RENT. (This is for the few readers I have who aren't Rentheads) The song asks how you measure a year, eventually coming to the conclusion that love is the appropriate form of measurement.
My post talks about love. It also talks about an entire year. Specifically, this past year, which I've let slide through my posts. (sorry, I've got the OBC playing on the lappy)
About a year ago I posted a story about a friend of mine who died tragically in a car accident. What I forgot to write about was that one of my closest friends was driving the car that night. I not have spoken to him since last October, because he has driven himself so close to the brink that it is doubtful that any human being will be able to pull him back.
So many of us lost a little bit of ourselves when Sam died. For me, I lost my tendency to push my problems off on someone else. I stopped blaming other people for my actions. Ironically enough, while I learned this lesson, I also knew that the powers that be would soon pick up the torch that I left behind, and I was right. Six months after Sam's death, the Minnesota highway patrol turned their attention from the driver that caused the accident, who is still at large, to Josh, my friend who had been driving the car when it rolled three times, partially ejecting Sam from the car and snapping her neck. Josh was charged with Vehicular Manslaughter, ( These charges were dismissed) and is currently involved in a wrongful death suit with Sam's mother.
I'm sure you are wondering where the love part of this post comes in. Well here it is. During this time, while dealing with the grief of losing a friend so suddenly, I became involved with a woman, Rachel, who I had (/have?) been chasing after since my senior year of High School. We had been together before, and I was the first person she had been intimate with. I'm not sure if we got together because I was grieving my friend, who had died only days before, and she felt sorry for me, or it was because she wanted to be with me. In the end it didn't matter. We were finally together, and that was all that mattered to me.
It was June 27th, and I was attending Sam's wake when I realized that I was in love. This girl was everything I wanted in life. Smart, pretty, and just as cynical and sarcastic as I was... possibly more so. We began to introduce each other to our friends, something we had never done before. This part became a little bit complicated, because when people asked how we met, or how long we had been together, we would look at each other with very quizzical looks, since not even we could remember all the ups and downs of our year-and-a-half on and off relationship. Nevertheless, we were happy and content with each other.
In August, I moved out of my mothers house and into a house with three friends. I had a good job, a decent house, and a great girlfriend whom I was madly in love with. My life was great. This, of course, did not sit well with Fate, who decided to cut off my testicles and feed them to me. I found out that Rachel had been doing something that I was vehemently against. Looking back, I made a bigger deal out of it than necessary, but at the time I was angry and suggested that she and I take a break. During our break, I got involved with someone else, and immediately regretted it. When Rachel and I got back together, she confronted me about it, since she and the other person had a mutual friend. I admitted to what had happened and, miraculously, she forgave me. I thanked the universe for her forgiveness, and resolved to be a better person to her.
This is, of course, easier said than done. I tried so hard to be a better person, but I always felt inadequate. Whether it was because I didn't have the money to take her out or buy her presents, which to this day she says never mattered, or that I never felt like her family liked me, I always felt like I disappointed her. I hid all of these feelings behind cockiness and humor. We continued being together.
In October, two events changed my life and my relationship with Rachel. The first came when my brother left for San Diego and the Marine Corps. I am very outspoken about my beliefs on the military, and I was against his enrollment in boot camp. Nevertheless, I supported his choice, and when he left on October 15, I wished him luck. On the inside, I was dying. For some reason though, I couldn't voice this to Rachel. I'm really not sure why I never told her.
The other event of October was me losing my job. I was accused of theft, and was asked to leave. I'm still quite bitter about the situation, because of the dubious circumstances surrounding the incident. They would never have been able to prove that I took anything that wasn't mine. Still, I was fired because I was the most likely suspect, and they didn't want to take any chances. I was very angry, and I took it out on everyone else, including Rachel. This strained our relationship even more.
This seems like a good point to stop for the night. Tomorrow night: New Years Eve, and the aftermath.
For now, Ta.