I can hardly remember anything from my childhood. I’m not sure why. I’m pretty sure I’m not just repressing bad memories, I guess my memory is a little shaky, because life before middle school is really vague. Maybe I just don’t think about it enough. My brother remembers a lot. He talks about it all the time, he’ll say “Do you remember the time when we were living in Provo and you got your head stuck between the bars on the porch rail?” Maybe I am repressing memories, ha.
My mom told me a story on my birthday that really made me want to remember more about growing up. She told me that her and my dad heard me telling one of my friends that my dad could fix anything. She said that from that day on my dad really could fix anything. I guess I gave him something to live up to or something. It made me want to be back where my parents were everything, when they were these superhero figures that I trusted completely. I still love my parents, and trust them more than most people, but I miss the days before I realized that they were just people too. What I can remember of them anyway, ha.
I’m older than my mom was when she got married. That seems insane to me, I can’t even begin to imagine being married. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for it sometimes. I can hardly handle taking care of myself most days. It just makes me more aware that my parents are just regular people trying to make it like everyone else. If I had a kid to take care of, he or she would be a lot more screwed up at 20 than I am. Which is not much I hope ha.
Every night at work we listen to this really bizarre radio show called Coast To Coast with George Nori, its all about aliens, ghosts, conspiracy theories, etc. They talk about the oil crisis, and the end of the world pretty much every night, As insane as most of the people who run, and call in to talk on the show, it still makes me paranoid that the world is about to go up in smoke. What happens when Oil does run out? Things would change fundamentally. I have a solution. Everyone who wants to can come out into the woods with me to live in a cabin, and off the land, ha. It will be like “Walden” or “Hatchet,” except with more people, ha William Blake’s Commune in the woods.