As much fun as it was to head off to Stern late night for chicken tenders with hot sauce and waffle fries a little before 2AM (closing time)…it was more fun going to the Axe & Palm freshman year back when they still had breakfast sandwiches and good burgers (I can’t even remember what their burgers were like back then, but it certainly isn’t anything like they are now).
…but that’s besides the point, because neither of them are as good as turning on the stove and cooking up some chicken, scrambled egg, garlic, and rice, with some oyster sauce and other seasonings. Too bad I’m out of mushrooms…
Also, you should see the way I crack eggs. It’s so -me-. hahaha…
What would the me from the high school golden era think about the me now? A pointless thought experiment, for sure, but it’s interesting anyways. I’ll not consider the me from before the high school golden era because…well, that’s just not interesting. But what would Timm[ie] from back then think about me? He’d probably be a little sad at how my letter-writing volume has fallen and how my diary has been relatively untouched, and other things like that, but he’d probably forgive me, as I -do- still keep up with my letters, despite my average falling ever-farther from the elusive 0.325 per day that I always remember having at some point. He’d reflect on the fact that I…have drifted from my high school friends, but I think he’d understand if he knew the kinds of companionships I have with my current friends. He’d be happy that I learned how to cry again. Don’t know what he’d think of Sayuri, haha. Both surprised in a weird way, but also maybe happy in another way. He’d probably be even more entranced by the pretty-haired girls in my life than I am.
He’d listen to the music I make and beam a huge grin because man, it’s super awesome and it would be proof of the next 7 years of practice paying off in a big way. He’d listen to me talk about social dance, and that would be intriguing because it’s not entirely obvious how that fits into my life. He’d be happy that I’m getting my footing in pixel art, for sure, and proud of my accomplishments in LD and such. He’d probably be happy with the job I have lined up too.
But what of my actual persona? How much of the current “me” would he understand? Because back then, “being Timm[ie]” was a very important thing, and I don’t actually find myself using that phrase or concept quite that much anymore. I think back then, what it meant to “be Timm[ie]” was that all-important determination to go above and beyond, even into the realm of ridiculousness, to carry out whatever it is that I set my mind on. While that’s still an important part of who I am, there’s also this other, angelic, soft part of me that I don’t really think existed before–or well, it existed in some form, but hadn’t really taken shape yet, at least not in the way that it has manifested itself now. You could almost say that there was another soul that was born inside, within me, that carried this angelic softness that is such a defining part of my character now.
I don’t think the me of back then would have used “soft” as his “one adjective” to describe himself. Back then I wasn’t really about being soft…(figures–after all, I was being loud out on the marching field, eh? yeah…I haven’t been loud again since that time). It was more about being determined, being true to the things that I believed in, staying strong and “happy” through it all and shrugging off all the negativity in the world. Took a good number of years to finally wear down the suit of armor I put on at that time…
I pray sometimes. Not in a ritualistic way or anything, but every once in a while, at random times–sometimes during awkward times; those times when normal people would try and break the awkwardness but instead because I am “soft”, I simply let it be because I am at peace with it–I will pray for the people that I am closest to. Not because I believe in the power of my prayer or anything (though I do think it’s cool that sometimes I do get some coincidental “spiritual connections”, like the time I figured out that Kiki was in trouble), and I’m not even praying -to- anyone, but simply because it feels nice for me, to think of someone else and wish them well in that quiet way. I am at my most natural state when I am soft, peaceful, quiet, and thinking about others, so in a way, a prayer for someone else is probably theraputic for myself. I guess it’s like that for most people, though part of me would like to think that it’s slightly different for me.