20140831

     Seeing as how I have come back from the grave without so much as an explanation for my absence, I feel I owe a brief account of the past several months. Here it is:

     Following my last blog post of 2012, I had indeed gone to Karuizawa, Japan. I was well-received by my host family and the exchange students (I do, in fact, enjoy being well-received by others). A majority of the trip was spent on tours of museums and temples, fancy dinners, school life, and making numerous speeches. I'm sure it was a great experience at the time, but looking back at it, I would describe the trip as, at best, satisfactory. I came home grumpy at Guam and its humid weather, but I got over it after a couple of days. (At this time, I also broke from my pescetarian bonds, and I would gain fifty pounds and experience, for the first time in my life, acne problems in the months to come thereafter.)

     Senior year was an amalgam of stupidity, madness, and thrill (but mostly stupidity). School was, at this point, more a nuisance than a responsibility, and I made that very clear with numerous missing assignments and absences. After a lot of meetings with teachers and sucking up, I managed to pass the school year and (somehow) graduate--but not without social perils, the stuff that high school students thrive off of. K and I had initiated two more friends into our circle (square, I guess??).  I began working with both K and newly-initiated A at a fast-food chain. The manager adored us all--some more than others (Hint: I was unlucky to be the least favorite of us three). Nevertheless, I was good at the job--I daresay I was the best. It is indeed true what they say: Four is a crowd. And what a rambunctious crowd we were. Driving off with K's trusty Honda, we indulged in late-night crazy talk and risky games (very, very risky games that would get us into much trouble later). To put it plainly, the games stopped being games. People were hurt (emotionally--we never stabbed anyone). And, ultimately, there were Three--and I, the odd one out. Let me tell you now: do not fool yourselves into thinking that I was the victim of a horrible stampede of Three. I had contributed to the dispute as much as everyone else (well, maybe not everyone... well, maybe...) In any event, the squabble ended with me in dire need of other friends. For a while, my younger sister had sufficed as a replacement. And after her, two old friends became my new ones--H and B. These were the people that I would go with to prom and graduation and celebrate my birthdays with. The friendship was pleasant, but never became intimate--at least not on my end. I wonder, though, if friendships are supposed to even be intimate. Maybe that's where the Four went wrong--four people in one giant intimate relationship? Indeed, four is a crowd. More notable events of the year would include my dad's DUI which would eventually lead him to quit alcohol altogether and my eldest sister's life-threatening surgery. But that's all I'm going to say about that.

     The summer after my graduation consisted of work and house chores (by house chores, I mean Netflix). At this time, I think it would be important to expand on my statement in the previous paragraph. I was unlucky to be my work manager's least favorite ex-Four member. Word got around. I went from WOW! badge-wearing best employee to "R, you did this wrong", "R, you made another mistake", "R, you can't keep doing this", "R, COMMUNICATE with your co-workers!" (By co-workers, my manager strictly meant K and A.) The job had become a constant reminder that I was being stupidly childish (though I think that my attitude was quite civilized, but the manager must always be right). So then I quit. Just like that--turned in my two weeks notice, made up some crap about me being in desperate financial need, and nabbed another job at my father's company. I would not engage in an actual conversation with K or A for the next year.

     My new job was... different. The first few days were brutal--long hours, strict manager supervision, no customers who knew English. I would get the hang of it after two more weeks and, to this day, smile to myself every time I walk by my old workplace--that fast-food chain from Hell. The lemonade was never that good, anyway. My first two semesters of college played out very much like the last month of my senior year but with way more involvement--hangouts with B and H, lots of work, and lots of lazing around. College was great. Every day would be a combination of school or work or both--almost never neither. In these months, I would walk by K or see her at the nearby Subway, debate a "hello", and always decide against it. I would make up a conversation with her in my head, laugh at all the hilarious things we would say to one another, then forget about it. During hangouts with B and H, I'd mention a story about K or talk about our inside jokes, but then I'd throw out a bitter insult after to hide my lonesomeness. I sought out ways to get a similar kind of friendship--chatted up people in my classes, went to a few parties, got together with old friends. Nothing really worked. I eventually met with Three member J, which silenced the loneliness a bit. She was not the one that I had issues with. But, then again, she was not the only presence I desired. I would not speak with her much after a couple of hangouts due to lack of time.

     The summer of 2014 eventually came. By then, I was the best at my current job. However, job security became an issue after branches of our company slowly begun to shut down. I would be okay for the months up until today and the months that follow. Other than work, I had no life beyond the walls of my home. Netflix and I were closer at this time than ever. The weeks would race past me, and I would not accomplish anything on my Summer To-Do List other than start making videos for entertainment (K would become one of ten viewers). Fast-forward to just about a week from today. I was having a conversation with a co-worker of mine about my passion for writing. And suddenly, I remember Mr. Charles Parker and His Suitcase--a short story assignment that I never turned in during my senior year of high school because I was so obsessed with making it perfect that I could not bear to turn it in before the deadline. I needed to find the darned thing. I had thought I remembered sharing the story with K and began rummaging through old messages and conversations. I slowly began to lose sight of what I was looking for and began reading hours and hours of hilarious exchanges of words. So I texted her.

"Lol, yeah, how you been?"

     And I suddenly become this high school boy again. I want to reach out to my favorite parts of my past self. And this blog was high school to me. The collection of moments that I enjoyed best. So, why not return?