There are two constants in my life that I want to take this moment to appreciate. I mean, there are many more constants in it – it’s not like I live on the front lines, down in the trenches, on an operating table. These are just the two that feel particularly relevant today.
The first is storytelling, in most if not all of its forms. Loved it since I was a little boy, tried my hand at writing my own novel at the age of 8, sucked hard at it, but kept scribbling bits and bobs throughout the years. As more of them went by, the standard sources of inspiration – books, movies, video games – were joined by an ugly thing I had never put too much faith in… by “personal experience”.
The second is music, a treasure chest whose contents I go through at my own speed and to my own liking. My so-called taste in music probably shows a lot more of my “life philosophies” than I have managed to put into prose so far – I remember telling a colleague back in high school that in my opinion “measuring” songs as better/worse has no merit, as there might not be a more subjective experience than the way each individual values their own favorite songs.
My colleague was a very “alternative” boy, one of the numerous rebels that today’s society has raised. Naturally I deemed him the right person to share these thoughts of mine with. His response went along the lines of “totally, dude, I mean everyone knows properly made house is like totally superior to all that commercial Linkin Park shit”. This was around 2013 I think, Chester’s suicide not yet visible on any horizons except (maybe) his own; even if our conversation had taken place now that he’s dead and Linkin Park’s future seems up in the air, I actually don’t think my colleague’s attitude would have been any different.
That’s not to say it should have been different just due to the fact the band lost its vocalist in such a tragic manner. He didn’t like their songs, that’s completely understandable (yes, I had to restrain myself from saying “totally”). Or maybe he was indifferent towards the song themselves, just didn’t respect the band’s decision to try to evolve their style. I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been in contact with him for years; I actually think he might have banished me from his social media, the ultimate 21st century condemnation. Or maybe I deleted him, it’s hard to keep track of some of that.
I don’t like to get hung up on any one person. Anymore, I mean. I mean, I still do it. I just don’t like it. I mean, I kinda do. Anyway, there’s more to that alternative rebel from the depths of my past. I could just stop now, having presented the side of him I arguably remember the most today. But there’s other bits I remember, like his struggle to fit in, barely noticed by most of our classmates. Or his depression, forcefully hidden, I assume at the urging of his parents whom I saw maybe once, enough to leave a very general impression. Or how deeply he loved, when he had someone in his life whom he trusted with his love.
I don’t know what sort of conclusion anyone should reach from all that. I don’t think I’ve reached a conclusion yet that would be quote unquote final, not by a long shot. I keep coming back to the annoying little thought that not many things are what they generally seem. I’ll be first to admit I’ve had gigantic trust issues most my life, dressed up in smiles and presented to the world as helping hands, which by itself might not make it ideal for me to have that particular annoying thought. I can’t help what I conclude though, I never could. I think I might as well start finding loopholes, converting my conclusions into fuel for the, um, future.
That song in Kung Fu Panda doesn’t lie, the future does look frightening, doesn’t it? It’s not just my imagination? I hoped not. It’s kind of like, ideally, imagination is the domain of hope, perception is the domain of expectation management. I don’t enjoy when these domains get mixed up. I don’t think they’ve switched places completely, not for me, not yet. Things actually look bright, for now. But I have recently been diagnosed as “potentially bipolar”, so maybe don’t take my word for… any of it? I don’t know, you decide.
Anyway, with the blah blah blah stream-of-consciousness out of the way, welcome to this little head canon I wanna try maintaining. And you are welcome here indeed. Oh, did you assume the title of the post was supposed to be me being all cocky? Nah, not tonight. Maybe some other time, likely. Tonight, you are welcome. Tomorrow, you are welcome. As long as I maintain this blog, you are welcome to read it. If at any point you are not welcome, trust me, you will know. And if, against most-but-not-all odds, we do find ourselves reaching that point, I assure you now while I’m not having an episode of being intense a.k.a. manic, it will not be your fault. Just disregard whatever proofs for it being your fault I happen to come up with at that time.
May the Force be with you as you live long and prosper.
Head Canon 