001- Strands Of Fate

Sometimes, I wonder- do you remember? Does anyone remember? Sometimes, things just become the way they are because that's how fate plays out. And no one questions, no one remembers. No one really seems to wonder why it all happened 'this way' or 'that way' or whatever way it actually happened. Instead, they just accept it- they accept it like how they accept that the sky is naturally blue from Earth's perspective, that you have to pay your taxes, that you inevitably grow old. So, I wonder if anyone remembers how any of this started? Do the strands of fate ever end? Or are the knots too tight to where we can't peel them apart?

There are people you meet in this life that seem to have no meaning. And there are others that I think some people put too much meaning into. Maybe I can't talk because I know I do it, too. But there are people you just can't remember how life was without. And, staring into the abyssal roar of the future- what comes after living in the small town of Edmond, Oklahoma- I think it's safe to say it's time to start imagining life without some people. But I guess that doesn't mean it has to be that way. I guess there's always Facebook. Always phones. But still, the notion of some of the faces that are always there not being there is quite frightening. Overwhelming. And don't begin to lecture me by saying that 'I'll be broadening my horizons'. Because I already know I'll be doing that. But take the time to consider, to think... of the concept that there was once life without the people you know and love.

Can you even remember how they got there in the first place?

I guess it's strange recalling some of the years without the people I know. It seems very different, almost like it was another life I'd lived. Frankly, I'm glad it's not. The concept of reincarnation frustrates me- why would anyone want to live life over and over again? I digress. In hindsight, it's funny how things work out. It's funny how the strands intertwine with other strands, and for imagery's sake, we'll say that it forms a basket. A pretty little basket, sort of like one of the ones you would put all of your stuffed animals in when you were little. Have you ever thought about how it is a small world? Or how you're connected with other people? There was a theory a long time ago that everyone in the world was technically connected to someone else through a friend, distant relative, or a friend of a friend of a friend. Isn't it odd to think that there are trillions of people all intertwined?

And yet, how is it that we find the specific ones that we find? Some people say that there are people born especially for other people, or that relationships are pre-determined. I don't know if that's the case, and I think if anyone actually knew, it'd be God Himself. I find it odd that out of the billions of people to walk this earth, we find the ones we can connect to. Looking at the odds, isn't it akin to finding a needle in a haystack? I guess all I can say is that, no matter what religion you might believe in, it's indisputable that you find what you need in life, even if it takes years. Even if it's not what you expected, too. It doesn't matter if it's that loved one you're constantly looking for, the best friend you want to tell everything to, or your worst enemy who absolutely crushes you. You find the materials that you need in life.

And so, how did you find your friends? How did you find your enemies?

And did you ever think about how they changed you?

It was my sophomore year, at a football game. I wasn't quite out of my crazy freshmen stage, yet, but I was getting better. Getting smarter, I guess you could say. Marching band always brought out my insane side- maybe it was all of the running in the heat we had to do that unhinged a few screws in my head, I don't really know. It was one of those perfect nights, in the stands at an away game. The autumn tide was constant, the leaves radiating with different colors. I could go on and on about how the sky was cloudless, and how the temperature was just right, but this isn't a cheesy novel, now is it? I remembered we were all confused and frustrated, which I guess completely cancelled out the nice weather. We were supposed to sit in a specific order. I was supposed to be wedged between two other flute players, but the stands were not shaped the same- not as much of a square as what we were used to. So, I ended up at the end of my row, next to the clarinet section.

I didn't know most of the freshmen yet. I just knew there was a little dark-haired boy sitting next to me, innocent as can be. Shyly looking at the upper classmen to his right and left with a set of confused, bashful brown eyes. Maybe it was the amount of energy drinks I had that day. Maybe it was the fact that it was a football game. I don't know what caused me to do it. I think I started with nudging him a bit with my elbow, maybe even throwing in a few fast-paced sentences- actually, I might've even used the classic, 'Hey stranger' on him. He merely stared at me like I was some alien, and I was speaking Yiddish to him. I finally got him to cough out his name- Colby. Colby, sweet little Colby. So pious, innocent- he probably didn't even know what the difference was between a girl and a boy except one was prettier.

Sadly enough, I don't recall much else about the night, except I began trying to teach him how to do the dances the band always did to certain cadences. Believe it or not, those dances originated back even before my older sister was in band. But, yes, you heard me before. I met one of my friends because I was bored, sugar-high, and I felt like teaching him how to dance. Granted, only later on I found out that he thought I was some drug junkie initially, but I guess that's beside the point.

That was the start of a pretty weird high school year. I guess things got more interesting with the younger grade coming in. Since I'd been a freshmen the previous year, I was eager to be one of the 'big kids'. I wanted the freshies to see how I was the designated 'awesome sophomore'. I'd like to say it worked, but I guess I'll never really know unless I ask them. Then again, odds are if I went up to Colby today and asked him that, I'd get some sassy remark about how I was the worst person to ever crawl the earth. But that's okay. I know he's joking.

We'll continue on with another one of those weird moments.

Flash forward to junior year. An equally insane year in itself, but we'll... Skip on to potentially the most peculiar scene in my life.

Post-morning band practice, everyone's sweaty. It's a rush from the field to the band room to the bathroom to the next class you have. The girl's bathroom by the band hall was always packed, so a group of us would always go down to the one by the front of the school to change. It worked well enough, despite the fact that the plug outlet for our hair straightener was not in front of a mirror, but we figured things out eventually. One day, much to my dismay, I found that as I was in the middle of stripping down to change into my school clothes, I had left my jeans on my bed at home. I was, an arguably am, a moody person when it's the middle of the morning and I realize I've made a dumb decision.

They're all changing into their pretty little outfits. Skirts. Nice jeans. Cute blouses. And here am I with a decent shirt on, and carrying a pair of basketball shorts with a giant "N" for North on the leg I turned to the girl nearest to me- an innocent freshmen, and I might've even grabbed her by the shoulder. All I know is that these words definitely left my mouth: "WELL. DON'T YOU LOOK NICE?" The girl was cringing, almost pressed to the ground in horror at the 'big, bad junior screaming down her throat'. And that, children, is how I met Kylee George. Pantless. Fuming. And 100% jealous of her pants.

I suppose you could say that I meet the people I end up becoming close friends with in possibly the most unconventional ways. We won't even get into how I met Eric or Camlyn, or even my step-brother, Josh (though, I think that one might win), but I think it's safe to say that I tend to meet people that end up attaching themselves to my life in the most peculiar of ways. The strands of fate and the harmonies of destiny ever toy with mankind, but especially play their pranks on me. There are so many more stories I could say, but I think some are better left unsaid for now. I wouldn't want to give away all of my funny stories at the beginning, now would I?

We paint pretty little pictures with the people we meet and the lessons we learn from them. Whether the methods of learning are through trial-and-error or just flat-out observation, I know that the lesson is never bad. It's beneficial right down to the end. And so I ask you if you remember how you met the people you hold dear, and if you remember what they taught you- if they taught you anything at all? Because a pretty little picture is never painted with just one color, and a basket is always woven with more than one strand.