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The Elegant Life Of Me: and other people you've never heard of a true story

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The Elegant Life of Me

and other people you've never heard of

Late 2000

My cigarette is almost burned out now. The lake is still today. A light wind stumbles across the grass in front of me and I’m trying to fix my life. It’s not a bad life to begin with. It’s just not the right one. I scraped through high school and now stand as a 2 time college failure. Not so much failing as quitting, I suppose. But the result stands and here I stand. Or sit rather, now in an uncrowded coffee house talking with a friend trying to piece together the next step of this man. Or boy or thing. Whatever you might call a 19-year-old male on the verge of extinction. I’ve decided, I think, to leave. After years of consideration I’ve reached the apogee of my listless existence here and shall henceforth be gone. I hope. I’m waiting on a response from one of the job applications I have submitted. I have applied to several ski resorts to become a ski instructor. I know, a Mississippi kid teaching people to snow ski. But I can ski pretty well, so why not. I hope to hear from them soon, before I am kicked out of my house by my parents, since I have given up formal education. I was raised to believe that a college degree was the only key to happiness and fulfillment. I never really bought that line. My parents bought it for me. I hope they don’t cry for me, but I really don’t care too much. I can see the mountains now. Rather far off and blurred from where I sit, but in sight nonetheless. I sometimes think I’ll miss this place. Not these people, not these shops, not this life. But the land. I’ll miss my pond, my dogs, my trees. There is a connection with the life there, and mine. I hope for it to carry with me to my next haunt, and the next. Haunt, I say, because I am a ghost, really. Never really seen or heard nor felt. Never really seeing, or hearing or feeling. Searching for a life lost, or forgotten, or taken. Hard to tell sometimes what really happened to me. But as the samurai say, life is but a series of moments, when one can conquer the path of each moment, nothing is left to consider or fear. And so I sit. This moment. Writing. And reading. This moment. The needs of this moment I have yet to conquer, much like the last, and the one before. Forget conquer for now, I have yet to fully grasp those needs or even myself. I suppose that would be a prudent step in this path. And yet I wander on blindly. Forward or backward, I cannot tell anymore. But it matters not. As long as we keep moving. Time stops for no man, and I stop for no time. Always looking for the next.

I heard back from Deer Valley. I’ve gotten a job as a cook, a pastry chef actually. Not a ski instructor, I know, but a job, and away from here. There’s something there that I’ve dreamed of, that I’ve yet to consciously conceive. I hope I’ll find it. But I hold no promise to myself. Optimistic, but more pragmatic. I’m seeing a new girl now. Another empty relationship to follow my last. I treat her o so well, and she loves it. And we have a good time lying on the couch and watching the X-files. We don’t connect, and I never expected us to. I don’t know if I have that ability in me anyway. If I do, I’ve seen no real evidence of it. But I am past worrying over those little faults of mine. What good is love anyway. I used to care about these things, or I think I did. And I do still, sometimes wish, but little more than that. The pain of these things is long since gone, leaving little scars in me. I scare myself sometimes now, more than before. I see more now what I could be if I let it happen, and I’m trying like hell not to let it break out. I hope the leaving will do me good. My mind body and spirit could all use the mountain air. Maybe we can throw together a short film for Sundance next year. That would be nice. But there is that feeling that it is just one more dream. Of course, this leaving was as much a dream a short time ago and now I’m so near it. Not really too excited, or scared, or anything really. Just one more step on my walk.

I’m trying to figure out now how I can get a deposit up for the house I want to rent. I suppose I’ll liquidate some more of my stocks. There goes my retirement. I’ve been invested since I was born. A wealthy aunt has bestowed me with stocks every so often. She is a wonderful lady. She lost her husband many years ago and has yet to fully recover. I so wish he had survived and given her the children she longs for. She doesn’t say these things. But I can tell. Those eyes and that face speak volumes. She has aged quite well, little of her beauty has faded. And her sweetness as well has stayed. I can’t imagine the burden that wealth has put upon her. Trying to buy love, it sometimes seems. I hope I’m wrong. I could probably ask her for some help with the moving costs, but I won’t. I could never pay her back, and she does not owe me anything near that cost. She owes me nothing actually. I have done little for her, and I regret that. I wish I could have been closer. Maybe been more like the grandson she never had. But that is gone now. Nothing more I can do.

I sometimes worry what toll my desertion will take on my family. I hope none. However, I know there is a possibility that my grandparents could die before I come back. That is a thought I can not bear. But they’ve held together this long, what are a few more months. My grandparents are strong. All four of them. Veterans of the depression, and the war, and my uncle and my cousin. Each of those conflicts a story in itself, but there’s no need to tell of all that. Inside, I know they’ll be here when I get back. And I will come back, I know that too. Or I think I do. I don’t ever plan that far ahead. Hell, I haven’t even really figured out why I’m doing this. Why didn’t I finish school and get a job? The answers seem to come quickly and then drift back again like the tide. I suppose I know why. Whether I can KNOW that I know it is another matter altogether. I had to borrow $100 from my brother today to pay my car note. I hate doing that. He doesn’t mind too much, he knows he’ll get it back. It’s just the principles. I should be able to do this myself by now. Maybe that’s why I’m going. To prove that I can. That I can do what I want to. I just hope that I’m on the way to something better. I can’t help but fear that I’m only moving to a more distant here. The same, just colder. But I’m packing anyway.

Mid 2001

I never went to Utah. I had everything together. Or, at least as together as I could have expected to have it. I was rear ended, my car was totaled. I was told they couldn’t wait for me any longer so they gave the job to someone else. Amazing. So here I sit, again, still here. I have given up. I have completely and utterly surrendered. You got me god, that was a good one. I’m glad to see someone is enjoying this. I will be back in school this fall, at my parents’ behest. I couldn’t take the nagging any longer. It makes no difference anyway. Here I am, at the peak of my life. I am tired all the time. I cannot remember happiness. I cannot remember love. There is nothing to look ahead to. It only gets worse from here. Hearing older people reminisce about their twenties does not help. Granted, I do realize that much of their memories are embellished, compared to their current states it must have been better. I do not want to be that old. Hell, I think I’m that old now. Only thinking about the past. Trying to remember a good time. Everyday, I want to die. I’m only too scared to.

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