Random Nostalgia - Writings

I used to be a rather proficient writer. At least in high-school terms, compared to the average high-school student, at my high school. Okay, so maybe I wasn't the best or really anything blose to great in the grand scheme of things, but I felt I was creative and I enjoyed writing, and it continued into college and eventually weblogs.

In fact, I used to write for a website called WritingUp.com before it eventually collapsed and I tried to salvage as much of my writing and readership base that I could. To rather no avail, judging by the number of readers I get over here on my personal weblog. But the fact remains, I was intrigued by writing and I think I was pretty decent at it.

So in going through really old files, I've stumbled across a folder I used to have on my old computer back in high school and reading through some of my old stuff really creeps me out.

I'll let you be the judge of whether it's good or bad. I just want to share some of it with the universe instead of letting it gather virtual dust in a file folder that's survived four separate computer transfers.



First, some poetry. Keep in mind all of this was written many many years before I even lost my virginity, let alone had a real girlfriend (since I don't think "online girlfriend" counts):

Untitled

You are my friend,
Strong and beautiful.
Gentle and loving.
Full of life; not afraid of anything
that may stand in your way.
I have found in you
what I thought I had lost in others.
You have helped me to know that I have a chance to make it.
You not only listen, but hear what I say.
You not only look, but you see me.
I trust you more than I trust myself.
I am thankful I have found you.
I hope you know how much I love you and I hope
you understand how much you truly mean to me.
You are my friend and I care...


I miss...
the late night chats
the questions you ask
the laughter we share
the songs on the radio.

I even miss...
the temper tantrums
the tiny fits of jealousy
the cold shoulders
the uneasy silences.

I miss...
the heartfelt hugs
the warm embraces
the tiny stolen kisses
the long passionate ones.

I truly miss...
you in my arms
holding you at night
watching you sleep
waking up next to you.

Wherever I go and whatever I do
my every thought, my every moment
Is filled with you.
I miss you...


Even though you Don't Know It

How I love you so
I think it all the time
Then I think some more
To tell you in a rhyme

When we lock our eyes
I hope you feel it too
That we are so close
With a love that’s true

Though it seems I’m sad
When I walk away
To you I make this promise
From you I’ll never stray

I swear I’d even wait forever
If that’s how long it took
For both us to be together
Like lovers in a book

And so that you will know
Just exactly how I feel
I’ll swear to you my life
Then secure it with my seal

Often I’ll recall
The day I first met you
I picture you so perfect
And I knew my love was true

But now you’re in my mind
Every day I live
And it is to you
That this poem I give


Untitled

From the first time I laid eyes on you,
I felt something inside, and hoped that you did too.
That night I dreamed about me and you,
Wishing that when I wake, it would all come true.

You have been on my mind,
Ever since I talked to you that first time.
I tried to get you out of my head,
But my heart told me to love you instead.

Being next to you, I feel like I'm in heaven,
Give me a chance and I'll adore you 24-7...
I hope you'll see that we were meant to be.
Please... will you go out with me?


A Wake-Up Call to "The Lovers"

Hark, ye angels! In that
World, some say, above.
Prepare to meet thy rival
In the art of knowing love!
For she alone is strong enough
And alone she understands
The meanings of my diction
And these movements of my hands.
Yet still, I write! To teach
You, that poor multitude,
What you've been missing
By obsessing with pulchritude,
for she alone, with her charm
And wit, and wondrous social graces
In one hour could give a thousand times more joy
Than a hundred pretty faces...
You blasphemers claiming love is found,
Will ne'er comprehend, nor care,
What she and I go through each day
And the torches that we bear!
We alone! The proud, the few!
Unappreciated every day!
We'd rather have a hand-picked tulip
Than a heartless rose bouquet!
And your chocolate boxes, neatly wrapped!
The warmth gives us such a chill...
We'd rather have a scoop of some warm chicken soup
From a friend who sees when we're ill.
You superficial cretins! Materialistic monsters!
Why say "cute" or "pretty" when
We don't care! We'd rather hear a
Well-placed compliment like "witty".
She is the one who truly deserves the best
For being so kind. Her soul and her mind
Like mine! We have so much in common...
Two bodies; One soul, intertwined!


Sharing Days with You

I get to see you every day,
But I know I'm never seen
And every time we chance to talk,
No one knows just what I mean.
Well today's my chance to prove to you
That I don't like being ignored,
Or pushed around, or only used,
Whenever you are bored.
If you could have looked deeper,
You'd see my love is true,
And I could have been so happy,
Sharing days with you...

We'd be walking together, holding hands,
Lying together in the park...
Talking, relating, conversing, and waiting,
Watching the sky grow dark.
And after all was said and done,
We'd end our cozy date,
But that will never happen, girl,
Because you wouldn't cooperate...
Whenever you would talk, I'd listen,
Whenever you want, with me you'd be kissin',
We'd just hold hands while the dewdrops glisten,
Now think of all that you are missin'...
You brush me off, you just don't care,
Because if you really do,
Then I'd be there instead of here,
Sharing days with you...

But I could give you one more chance,
now that you know how I feel...
And maybe we could try again,
And see if love is real...
But you'd have to promise to cherish me,
For I am one of the precious few,
Who love you, girl, and who'd rather be
Sharing days with you...

Oh I know my looks aren't perfect,
And at times, my mind's askew,
But I wish you'd just look past it and let me
Share these days with You...


Untitled Sonnet

I dreamed a dream, of love, of life, of you,
Though you were there, you played a minor role.
I want you in my life if love is true,
Yet just to see if we might share a soul.
I hoped a hope, that firmaments above
Would break apart, and let the angels fly.
So you could 'scape and share with me your love,
For if you don't, I fear that I will die.
I planned a plan, to flee and search you out,
To calm and comfort you; hold you so tight
We'd fuse, form one, and I would never doubt
That anyone for me could be so right.
With dreams, and hopes, and plans, I lived my life,
No motion, action, or you as my wife...


My Friend (Dedicated to Kellen "Flip" Cassidy)

Oh friend, think of me. I know you will surely go far.
Keep dreaming your thoughtful dreams. Keep wishing on that falling star.
Oh friend, wait for me. I'm coming just around the bend.
Together we'll travel, side-by-side, laughing and singing 'til the end.
Oh friend, believe in me, when all of my hope is gone.
You're the only one who keeps me smiling. You keep me going strong.
Oh friend, laugh with me. We'll be joyous all the day.
One smile from you eases my pain and washes my worries away.
Oh friend, talk to me. Tell me what you want to know.
I'll reply to you, and you to me, and together, our minds will grow.
Oh friend, sing with me, with your voice so cheery and bright.
A duet to last the ages, with our songs for day and night.
Oh friend, pray for me, in times when I am ill.
I'll do the same, and we'll remain friends together still.
Oh friend, discuss with me, so I can understand your views.
I'm sure they will inspire me when I'm down with the blues.
Oh friend, stay with me, through good times and through bad.
Together we'll we exuberant, and together we'll be sad.
Oh friend, look at me. Tell me, what do you see?
For maybe, some of the things I see in you, you just might see in me...


Okay, I'm getting a little emotional, so I'll finish this up quickly with something that's not poetry. It's a book I started trying to write. I know, a book? Me? Anyway, my crazy idea for the book was that it would be called "HAVE YOU EVER" and it would be a collection of short writings written by a crazy person with each section starting with the phrase "Have you ever" and going into insanity from there. What follows are the first (and only) two pieces of writing for this book.

1

Have you ever seen yourself?

I don't mean in a mirror, or the metaphorical sense, or your conscience. I'm talking about seeing yourself, standing in front of you. Of course, sometimes you're not standing, you're sitting, or walking, or laying down, or punching the real you in the nose.

I see myself a few times a week...

But it's never a happy time. I don't really like myself now, because the me who I see and talk to isn't very nice. It seems that every single day, the actions I make apparently ruin my life in the future. And the me I see gets to tell me what I've done wrong and how it's going to kill me in the future since the last time he visited. And after every single visit he makes, and tells me what I've done wrong, even when it seemed so far from wrong when I did it, I try my damnedest to fix the problems I caused the days before, and in the process, I screw up even further in the future. So I've come to a conclusion: I'm doomed. Every time I do something good, the effects are somehow devastating in the future, according to the other me. Every time I do something wrong, the effects are worsened tenfold. And if I sit and do nothing and contact no one and go nowhere and say nothing and ignore all stimuli and shut myself off from the world, I've missed a list of possibilities and opportunities that all ruin my life in the future for missing... I'm doomed.

You know, I tried to tell my problems to friends, and I was shrugged off. They told me, "It's called a CONSCIENCE, so deal with it." Now, from all of my previous understanding, as well as the movie "Pinocchio", I understood that a conscience was merely a voice. Also, this voice is supposed to help you, to inform you when you make mistakes, and to help remind you not to make them in the future. He is NOT a voice. He is NOT helpful. And he is NOT my conscience. He exists merely to make my life miserable. And he's not a figment of my imagination, because he knows things. Things that only someone from the future could know... Like who is going to fall down right next to me, or when I'm going to get slapped in the face, or what the essay question is on a pop quiz I haven't taken yet. So this doppleganger me can't be imaginary...

And then people tell me I've got schitzophrenia. I tell them I don't hear voices. I see me. So they say it's a prophecy. I tell them that prophecies are sent from God. This me is not all that holistic, in my opinion. So they tell me to shut up. And I get yelled at by me for not speaking my mind or talking too much. It varies, depending on how the future me wants to torture the real me that day...

And week after week, the cycle continues. Me acting, the other me twisting reality. And then one day, I couldn't take any more of it. I got angry. I don't usually get angry. But I got angry. And the next time I saw me, I walked right up to him, punched him in the cheek, as hard as I could, and told him to just shut up because he says too much and I don't want him saying any more about anything. And then I reached up and felt my cheek... There was a bruise there... And I remember the fake me telling me the exact same thing four days before.....


2

Have you ever seen a cloud?

From the inside? I have. I was there last month, and I don't think I ever really returned. It started innocently enough, and yet not so innocently at all...

It was a rough week. People hated me, I was insulted, I didn't want to carry on... So I went to the top of the grassy hill I visit every now and then, and I just wept. I just shouted, "Isn't there supposed to be a better place than this world?" and I slipped. But I slipped up. I felt my feet fly out from under me, and I awaited the seemingly inevitable "thump" of my back hitting the ground. Instead, I felt the "thump" of my head hitting a tree branch as I was propelled upwards.

And right now, you don't believe me. You shake your head and remind yourself that this book is fictional. But you've never been there, and you wouldn't understand.

I just kept rising, and I saw the cloud. The one cloud in the sky that day. As I approached, it started to grow. Not grow in sight from getting nearer. Growing immensely, and opening up. Now I've been on many an airflight, and I recall flying through clouds. I must not have flown through THIS cloud... As my ascension slowed to a halt, I realized I wasn't standing. I was hovering, floating, wafting, and just simply there. But I can't fly. I couldn't fly... I waved and flapped and huffed and puffed, but I couldn't move. And I so wished I could explore the bright area in front of me. And I moved. Effortlessly, swiftly, and haphazardly. It's hard to move yourself with your mind when you're still wondering why and how you're in a cloud. And then I saw it.

The obelisk.

The glassy figure, shining in what appeared to be the center of this meteorological phenomenon, shone with a brightness that hurt my eyes to look. But I kept staring, absorbing the rays of light it brought forth from its unknown power supply. And I reached for it. Cloud. And I kicked it. Cloud. And I wished with all the strength I could muster up. And the obelisk said, "Cloud." And I believed it. After all, how could a glimmering geometrical figure in the sky ever be wrong? So I asked the obelisk, with as much force I had left after my revelation that a shape just spoke, "Why am I here?"

Cloud.

"Is this the happier place I wanted?"

Cloud.

"Can I ever come back here again?"

And the cloud parted down the middle, and vanished. the obelisk moved closer to me, and touched my forehead, and it felt warm. And when it moved back, I felt my forehead, touching the warmth, feeling it on my fingers. Blood. And I saw the grass. No clouds...


I'll post more later, as I unearth them and decide they're worth sharing with the universe. Back to the pile...

Oh yes, please Digg this article - and spread the word that I used to be a crazy little writer!

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Random Nostalgia - "The Otaku Hour"

"The Otaku Hour" WIIT Poster - 03-10-2004, originally uploaded by AaronBSam.

This picture is being posted here as a result of a self-inflicted nostalgia spiral.

I am currently in the process of looking for a piece of fiction co-authored by me and a high school friend, dated 2002. In the process, despite the fact that this is a computer I purchased in 2009, I have somehow managed to transfer very old documents between my computer systems as I have gone through them, dating back to my family computer from my own high school days.

While navigating the labyrinth of old files, I came across old pictures (that I must remember to post to Facebook or Flickr or something) and deep in the recesses of a random folder, I came across this atrocity.

So here's the story.

Back in college, I used to host a radio program. My DJ nickname was "Chibby" as a play on words referring to the "chibi" style of Japanese animation found in many animé series. This is related to the graphic that appears three times in this poster, which was hand-drawn in Santa Monica by a Japanese-style artist that I paid $10 to have done. Ever since, it's been one of my most-commonly-used avatars for myself.

The radio program was called "The Otaku Hour" ('otaku', for those of you not familiar with the term, is a derogatory word for super-nerdy-loser-fanatics in Japan - I know, they see it as an insult and nerdy white Americans are proud to be considered one) and it centered entirely around Japanese music and culture.

I ran the show for 2 years (the 2nd year is when I expanded my timeslot to the 2-hour block shown in the poster) and many episodes were co-hosted by my buddy Erick, who played straightman to my wacky foolishness on the air.

Anyway, the DJs were putting up fliers and posters to promote their show in the new studio, which featured soundproof glass walls so the IIT students could see in (but not hear us, the radio DJs, unless they were at home with their radios and in a 2-mile radius from the campus).

This was my entry.

I think that's all the information you really need. The rest is just trying to understand what the hell I was thinking (and I frankly don't recall most of the logic) and then trying to fight these images out of your head before the nightmares come.

Well, back to the nostalgia...

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