For a friend.

So the final chapters of my childhood are finally coming to a close. I'm 20 years old now yes, but I'm still living like I was ten, with a few more responsibilities. The court that I live on is the symbol of my childhood, everything happened here. There are marks on the pavement on the court that will always be there, there are memories that still float around in the air every day. One major contributor to all of the amazing stories that went on here was a kid named Jp.

I remember the days him and his family moved into the court. I was outside racing my bat mobile down the slope of my driveway and a kid rides up to me on a bike with training wheels. He looks up at me (I was always the tallest) and says “Do you remember me, Jp?" I replied. "uhhh, no".

He then continued to ride his bike around the sidewalk of the court and I continued playing with my bat- mobile.

Soon after though he started to come over almost every day. We'd draw and write stories. We had a comic book entitled "Hot head and Stupid", I was the writer and he was the illustrator. Our friendship built off of our stupid ideas and odd humor. For a while like any great friendship, I hated the guy’s guts. Maybe not all friendships but hey, after 15 years you’re bound to have some ups and downs.

It all started when playing a game called "cherry wars". The concept is very much like its title. We both have  inedible bitter cherry trees in our front yards. We would climb up the trees and pick the cherries from probably about 25 feet up. We would have teams. Usually three on three. The game consisted of running around and chucking cherries at one another. Needless to say, things got pretty heated. Jp was the one who took it over the top. He proceeded to spit all over his cherries. The first lugi filled cherry he threw smacked me right in the forehead. I smelled it. Jp never had the best breath. His saliva plus my rage made it worse. It was all kind of a blur after that. Jp got involved with his friends at st. mary's. I didn't see him for about two years...

Then one day he came over again and had some wild, over exaggerated stories as well. He made those two years of his life sound like the most outrageous best times of his life. (Remember the one about the girl that semi had sex with you in her steps dads’ pool during lunch time at school then the dad came home and you hopped the fence naked and ran down the street with a boner? AND then she caught up with you down the street and finished you off in the car? AND then when I asked about her later on you told me she moved to England?)

Oh Jp, your stories made my life seem like monotonous teen age hell-hole.

Unfortunately I later found out that these stories were indeed completely made up. You see, he only told me these stories to make up for the friendships that he was lacking. To fill a void. These guys weren’t his real friends. It was us. I'm glad was able to admit these things.

Jp was the first guy in our friendship circle to really do anything with his life. He moved out first, he became a fire-fighter, he's been fired more times than I've had jobs, he got hitched, had a wedding (I was best man!)

He always said that he was like Kramer, and I was like Jerry, a dysfunctional friendship but never the less a friendship indeed. So good luck in the United States Coast Guard my friend. I wish you the best of luck and come back with some crazy stories for me.

---I'll end this with a song that Jp and I wrote and recorded when we were about 11 years old.

Jp- "There’s an orange on hammer lane"
When I come home
I always gotta use the restroom
What’s wrong with me?
I always gotta pee.

Every night I sit on the toilet with you
Now I gotta poo.
What’s wrong with me?
I made a mess in the bathroom just for you mommy
And now I gotta take a poo
And I did it just for you
(I did it just for you)
I did it just for you
---

road trip

"I've been spending too much time in California, were feelings change, but seasons never do"- Sherwood.

I have this physical map in my room of the United States, it shows all the main highways in a dark red color thats winds all over the map. I would tack every place that I want to go in the United States if I had some tacks handy...

I go onto google maps and type in the address to New Yankee Stadium. There's a little yellow man at the top of the map that you can drag around to see what the actual street view looks like. You can drag him from block to block and tour the city. A literally toured Bronx New York in 10 minutes. Just a little yellow man that can go wherever he wants with just the drag of a mouse. I want to be that little yellow man. I want to be the imaginary tacks on my map.

First though, before I tackle the Bronx, I'd like to travel north up through Oregon and Washington. For whatever reason I've been thinking about the northwest a lot lately. I want to go to Portland and Seattle, I think that would be pretty cool. Every big city or area has a certain feel. It's really unexplainable unless you visit the city but I'm getting good vibes from these ones. There is no feeling where I am now. Or maybe there is but I'm so used to it I can't feel it anymore. Thats a sign that I should get out. I need to feel something new.

I took a trip to Fresno to check out the school about a month ago and its the first time I really went anywhere of any distance by myself and It felt good. Just me and my jeep. Anyways, I want to take a trip into the northwest and see the northern coast.

I'll book it in my non-existent planner for "sometime in the future".

plans.

So what are the rules about blogging? Do I always have to have something interesting to say? or a story to tell? I'm about to blow this thing up. Blogging anarchy.

Since about June I feel like my life has completely changed in a negative direction. Before the summer I had false hope of moving to San Diego with my buddy Trevor. I was going to go to school there, meet new people and get the effff out of the 209. Just weeks before we had planned to move, shit hit the fan. Then some guy below continued to relentlessly pelt shit at this fan and ruin my plans. I tell you what blog, it was a bummer. Surprisingly however this unfortunate event isn't what triggered my mental (somewhat) breakdown.

I used to be a really positive person. I looked up no matter how deep my grave was dug. I had goals set for myself. I believed in myself. I liked people. Slowly, the view in which I see the world began to alter. I couldn't sleep at night, truly convincing myself that I was going to die in my sleep. I couldn't eat or work. I went to the hospital and stayed in the ER. Nothing was wrong with me. My friends saw a difference in me, but I didn't talk about it. I was trapped in my own mind and I really made myself sick.
My world was changed because my need of change was not met.

I found things about myself that I never knew before. I don't like routine that's for sure. I need change. I'm just beginning to pick things back up again. My family told me that it was because of my age and the point of life that I'm at. Its kind of a transitional age. I feel like a damn kid. I've been doing the same thing for 15 years that I've lived on my block. I need to do things on my own.
And geez, I come up with some pretty crazy plans for myself. I've found that I have ambition in my thoughts but not in my actions.
Independent Parker's ideas:

• Going to a school for Optometry and becoming a doctor for the eyes.
• Transferring my job and getting a promotion THEN move to Oregon, live by myself for a year to claim residency then attend the University of Oregon. (This plan is actually the current one on my mind) Why Oregon? I got good vibes.

Dependent Parker's failed plans

• Moving to an apartment in Sacramento with Jp to study Music Production. Failed because Jp got married and decided to move to the coast guard.
• Move to San Francisco with Don and attend Expression College for Digital Arts. Failed because the Don's Aunts house that we were going to live in was actually sold three years prior to us creating this plan. Information that would have been greatly appreciated.
• Moving to San Diego with Trevor. Failed because financial issues with parents. Note to self: Broke kids can't afford San Diego.
• More failures in the works I'm sure.

I've realized what I have done and analyzed why I feel this way and it's time that I do something about it. In the meantime I'm here in Stockton and need some to make some changes Writing about it really helps actually. I'd like to see from fresh faces. I'd like to get out of this rut I'm in.

Nothing special.

I've been meaning to start this blog for a while now but for some reason I can never get around to do anything. I'm starting it just for the sake of writing. yes, I'm writing simply to write. However good or bad my blog is on a particular day, it doesn't matter, this is for me. and at least I'm using the right side of my brain. Lately, there has been so much going through my head, I'm constantly living in my thoughts rather than reality. Maybe this will help me mix the two. So why not, here's my blog...