So, part of the purpose of this blog is to also let you know about me, either in the case of my unfortunate demise or just to maybe give you insight into my insanity. So here goes.
I grew up going to Disney World 3 times a year. I whole heartily believe this contributed to my silliness and my ability to play. I suppose someone could argue that it was mainly my parents' teachings and that going to Disney World was just a manifestation of who they are. That is to say, it wasn't Disney that affected me, it was my parents, and because my parents are who they are, we just happened to go to Disney. Point is, I loved Disney because it was an escape to a magical place like no where else; it was a place where I could actually use my faculties to experience my imagination. Even after the realization that it was just people in suites, the rocks were hallow, and everything was ridiculously expensive, it was still an amazing place. Hopefully how the place has turned sour in my eyes won't affect you; I hope you can experience some magic too.
Sometimes the sea calls me. I don't know of any maritime heritage in my family. Grandpa Jerry was in the Navy four yeas, on an aircraft carrier as a weather man, but that's all I really know of. And where as I think it would be cool to be on a huge ship like a carrier, or even a submarine, there's something about seeing a ship from the 1700's on the open sees, hearing the sailors sing their shantys, the melodies, the harmonies, the accordion... sometimes it just hits me. It doesn't hit me that hard, it doesn't pull me to the ocean, but I get this inexplicable yearning.
Same thing happens for a lot of stuff that was before my time (yet further reinforcing my theory of where/when I came from), and not all from the same eras. Swing music, cobble streets, places lit with fire instead of electricity (anywhere from streets to houses to parks), certain aspects of the golden age of movies, castles, the Highlands... And it's not everything before my time. Things from the 50's, while interesting and I feel like they'd be more desirable than today, don't call me like those other things. And it's not just the romanticizing of those things either. I know things were dirty, sickness was rampant compared to today's hygienic standards, there was just as much "negativity" then as there is now. But there's a difference when I hear some chamber music from the Victorian era and I think to myself "wow, music will never be that good again" and when I hear a group of sailors harmonizing to a shanty so they can get their work done in time.
Sometimes the road calls to me. This voice is smaller than the voice that calls me to the sea, but it's more feasible too. I can say this, if something were to happen to you and your mom, becoming a truck driver is a distinct possibility.
I am a forgetful person through and through; I've been forgetful since before I was self aware. However, since moving to Colorado, it would appear it's more than that. I haven't figured out if this is new or if it's just come to light this late in my age; I don't know what caused it either, could be time, could be the change in latitude, could be the change in longitude, could be the change in altitude, could any combination of the aforementioned possibilities. Not only do I regularly forget stuff, but apparently I do the opposite, I fabricate memories. An example is, I vividly remember the time I was in Michael Jackson's presence when I worked at the Tower of Terror; I remember where I was standing, I remember who he was with, I remember making jokes about how he would scream on his way down. Now I realize, I could have made that memory up, I can't trust any of memories. Well, I shouldn't say that; so far I have no reason to believe that any memories I have that are before I moved to Colorado are at risk. I'm also not talking about mistaking or confusing memories; it's easy to have a memory of doing something with someone, but it was actually with someone else, or at a different time than you originally recall. I mean, I have vivid memories of doing something with someone, it could only be that person, but they tell me it never happened; there's no possible way I'm confusing the who or what, but they are adamant about it not happening. Now, the first few times I think to myself "Oh no, they're just forgetting," I mean, it's much more likely that someone forgets something rather than someone making up a memory. But, it's happened enough times, and from various people, that I now believe I'm making these memories up. I don't know what I can do about this, and I sincerely apologize how this may affect my raising of you.
