High Ramblings about Memories

Sometimes when I’m listening to music and smoking by myself, I start going back in time. I think about events that shaped certain perspectives I now have. Whether it be of people, of certain topics, of events, pretty much anything. I have a shitty memory, I only remember things that had an impact on me in some way.

During this smoke session, I started thinking about my poems. I guess that is also due to the fact that I have to write a poem for my Creative Writing class. I thought about the topics for my poems when I was a teenager. Or rather, the themes. A lot of them, the most recent ones (Which is like three or four years ago, or maybe even five) had something to do with my mom. At this time my mom and dad had gotten a divorce. And my mom was, lost. My dad was too, but he wasn’t as hung up. At least he didn’t show it anyways. But my mom, she just fell out of the “perfect” mom routine. Everything she did for us and the way she treated us, it sort of changed. Well anyways, at that time my poems were about her predicament. I actually posted a few of them: Armageddon of the Heart and Puppet Master. These are some of my favorite poems, and they were about my mom.

These themes, this topic, it got me thinking of a certain event that cemented her image in my mind at the time. I was laying on the couch, watching anime. For some reason, I think I liked sleeping on the couch. Anyways, I hadn’t seen my mom since the morning. Well actually maybe I saw her after she got off work. Well, anyways she had gone on a date or something. She was talking to this guy. My mom comes home, I am passed out on the couch, and she lays across me when I wake up to greet her. Then she begins to sob into my chest. I stroked her hair and comforted her, and tried to coax out of her what was wrong. She didn’t tell me straight up, she was very vague about the whole thing, but the gist of it was that some guy had just used her for sex, or that was something that the guy only wanted.

At this moment I felt odd. I couldn’t help but think, wasn’t this the kind of thing i should go crying to her about? But I had never been that type of person. At the time, I was still a virgin, and guys didn’t really interest me, and neither did girls, or anyone really.

But here was my mom, crying to me, about a topic I had no familiarity with. I don’t know why I am thinking of this memory, or what it means. I can’t put in words the image I have of my mother now, it’s something beyond words. It’s the kind of thing words can’t describe, my impression of her. But I love her. I don’t care what happened in the past when she was just shy of a perfect mother. It doesn’t matter. Just as my dad’s faults and shortcomings don’t bother me. I love them both. Everyone in my family gets that pass. I don’t know why family is so important to me, but it is.

-High Ramblings of a Stoner

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High Ramblings about Home

I never really had a home. Not a birthplace where I can say I grew up, not even an actual house where I spent enough time for me to consider it home. I guess what I’m saying is I don’t have a specific place where I associate enough crucial memories for me to consider it home. My home would be spread out over dozens of places. By the way, I’m a military brat who has moved at least every four years since I was born.

I don’t ever picture myself having a home. I was born a wanderer, and I feel like that’s how I’ll stay.

Though if I were to ever settle in an area, you know pick a place where I want to die, then I guess the type of house I’d want would be a three bedroom small house. That way I could have an art studio and a study. Or I guess maybe a two bedroom with a basement or attic. Or a one bedroom with both. All I know is home is where I have everything I need to live in a particular place for more than five years.

But will I ever find a place like that? Where my restless spirit can finally find peace? I don’t know. I may just spend my entire life traveling, moving every five years till I’m too old and sick to move anymore.

Who knows what my future holds but it’ll work out. As long as I go through life with good intentions, then I should find peace and happiness. I don’t know in what form it’ll take, but as long as I thirst for a rememberable life and make moves to accomplish it, then I can die content.

 

-High Ramblings of a Stoner

High Ramblings about Goals and Traveling

I have wanderlust. I thirst for the world, for everything in it and a part of it. From the beautiful landscapes to the cultures to even the minuscule people and their insignificant ideologies. While I use the words “minuscule” and “insignificant”, I really only mean that in the grand scheme of things. What do we matter to the universe? To life? It will go on. It went on before us and it will go on after us. But we as people will not. So we only truly live, if not even in memories but love, as long as the human race exists. But that is something extraordinary. Even though we don’t matter, the universe matters to us. Everything in it the laws the beings and celestial bodies inhabiting it have some kind of influence over us, us who is almost completely useless. If anything deserves or worship it is this beautiful universe we live in.

But I digress. As I was saying, I have wanderlust. I thirst for this world we live in, for the above reasons listed. I am hungry for it and have actually satisfied a nice amount of it. I’ve seen quite a bit of the US, even the most beautiful parts of Alaska. But there are some places I haven’t been, and those are my goals. I want to see every glorious landmark of the US. Anything of even minute importance to the people who dwell in this country. However, I have been stuck in this particular part of the US for longer than I’d want. It’s been 5 years and I’m still here. I can’t do this anymore. By this time next year, I will be somewhere else. If not out of the country, then at least somewhere new to me. Somewhere where I can get the much-needed experiences I crave.

But I won’t stop there. I want to be somewhere else in the next four or five years from there. I want to continue to move, as in live in different areas of this beautiful world. But while I’m doing that I also want to travel to different more unique places on the side. Places that I could not easily live. But visit there for weeks or days or even just hours at a time.

And why can’t I do just this? If I have the motivation, the willpower, I will find a way to do this. But that’s the problem, do I have the strength or am I too lazy.

I suffer from bipolar disorder and am prone to dark depressed episodes where suicide becomes the only answer. Can I possibly fight through this darkness? Or is that just an excuse. Am I using different things in my life as excuses to stay where I am? Not anymore. I can’t live like that. I have to take control of my life. Shit, this turned into a diary entry. Sorry about that to the internet (since I have very few to no followers).

-high ramblings of a stoner