What the hell? I take a few days off and everyone else decides to go on vacation? What's up here, folks, seriously?
Okay, so Tristan Miles Theopolis Dalley. Tristan is, in fact, one of my oldest friends. We met in junior high school, did stage fencing together, hung out a lot and wreaked no small amounts of mayhem, chaos, madness and insanity across much of the greater Omaha metropolitan area for many years. Then Tristan's folks moved out of state, Tristan moved out of state and everything fell to pot. For about 4 years, Tristan and I lost contact. Then, completely out of the blue, a wedding invitation shows up in my mailbox. Tristan was getting married! This, the guy who had women throwing themselves at his feet, en masse, was settling down. Getting hitched. Tying the knot. Going to be the Mr. of Mr. and Mrs. Dalley! Tristan's fucking father was Mr. Dalley, okay, not Tristan! Tristan was the first of my friends to get married (and since then, it seems like everyone's doing it (I've been to two weddings this year alone), so I'm bucking the trend, being the rebel and going solo) and it was something of a mental kick in the nuts. I'd been trying to avoid thinking about the fact that I was getting older for some time. And Tristan just ran up and smacked me in the face with it. I should also mention that Tristan is a year younger than me. Anyhow, this was the fall of 1999 when this all happened, about 8 months before I graduated from college. After Tristan's wedding, we spoke a few times on the phone and then basically lost touch again around the same time I graduated from college (which, I suppose, is understandable as well -- I did move from Nebraska to California).
Since then, there's been the odd attempts at communication, but Tristan and I had seemed to go our seperate ways again. When I started teaching Erin stage combat, though, I started telling a lot of Tristan stories (which is natural, I suppose, since I tie Tristan to that part of my life) and Erin kept bugging me to try and find Tristan, so with a little luck and some work on the Internet, I found a phone number. First time I called it, I got Lana, Tristan's wife, and left a message. No response. So I called again, left a message on their machine. And again. And again. And again. And finally... I reached him. Holy fucking shit.
Tristan, as it turns out, is doing relatively well. Lana is newly pregnant (due in May, I believe he said), Tristan's in the middle of changing jobs, he's got a dog now and they're renting out a house, where it sounded like the in-laws were currently staying with them (although I believe they were just visiting) ... the funny thing about Tristan is that I'd always pictured him as the guy who'd be, as Bob Dylan put it, "Forever Young." And instead, he's getting older, faster, than any of the rest of us. I never thought Tristan would be the one who'd be with the wife and 2.5 kids before he turned 30, but it sounds like he's well on his way. He's still in theater, although he's doing much more managerial work now, having just given up his job of "building puppets" -- I kid you not, he really is that kind of guy. He sounded well, albiet tired and weary, and it was good to hear from him. He's got my cell phone number now (although knowing Tristan he'll never use it) and we both promised to try and stay in better touch.
Talking to Tristan made me realize something, though. I'm no longer a young man. I'm now at that phase in my life where I am a man. End of sentence, end of story. I don't particularly care for it much, I have to confess, being older, but we all go through it. I mean, Tristan is having a kid! Almost all my friends are married or on their way to being married! My ten year high school reunion is less than 3 years away! My younger brother, eleven years my junior, is in high school! It's all going by so fast... I blinked and somewhere along the line, years slipped away from me. Is this all that I've done? Is this all that I've created? Is this all that I would leave behind were I to pass away today? ... Have I really had so little an impact?
I've been giving it some time to settle since then, and I've come to understand that I'm okay with where I'm at now. I have made impacts in people's lives. I am important to people. Maybe not a lot. Maybe not even more than a handful, but to those in that handful, I am important, I am meaningful. And you know what? I think that's enough. That'll do. I am getting older, but I'm okay with that as well. It just means that I have to keep going, and keep working, and keep dreaming, and keep hoping, no matter how often those hopes are crushed, no matter how often the spirit is snuffed out.
I'm still a cynic, make no mistake. The world still deals me shitty hands and I expect that. Hell, I prepare for it. But I'd rather it dealt them to me than to my friends. And I can take it. Honestly. Bring it on. Because despite as depressing as I can come across as from time to time, I am strong enough to beat this. To beat all of this. To live, survive and thrive.
So, how was your day?
NOW PLAYING: Mogwai - "Take Me Somewhere Nice"
Lyrics: (a rarity for a Mogwai song) "ghosts in the photograph/ never lied to me. / i'd be all of that / i'd be all of that. / a false memory / would be everything. / a denial my eliminent. / what was that for? / what was that for? / what would you do / if you saw spaceships / over glasgow? / would you fear them? / every aircraft, / every camera, / is a wish that / wasn't granted. / what was that for? / what was that for? / try to be bad. / try to be bad..."
(P.S. I know I'm probably the only Mogwai fan I'll ever meet, but you all have no idea what you're missing...)
Okay, so Tristan Miles Theopolis Dalley. Tristan is, in fact, one of my oldest friends. We met in junior high school, did stage fencing together, hung out a lot and wreaked no small amounts of mayhem, chaos, madness and insanity across much of the greater Omaha metropolitan area for many years. Then Tristan's folks moved out of state, Tristan moved out of state and everything fell to pot. For about 4 years, Tristan and I lost contact. Then, completely out of the blue, a wedding invitation shows up in my mailbox. Tristan was getting married! This, the guy who had women throwing themselves at his feet, en masse, was settling down. Getting hitched. Tying the knot. Going to be the Mr. of Mr. and Mrs. Dalley! Tristan's fucking father was Mr. Dalley, okay, not Tristan! Tristan was the first of my friends to get married (and since then, it seems like everyone's doing it (I've been to two weddings this year alone), so I'm bucking the trend, being the rebel and going solo) and it was something of a mental kick in the nuts. I'd been trying to avoid thinking about the fact that I was getting older for some time. And Tristan just ran up and smacked me in the face with it. I should also mention that Tristan is a year younger than me. Anyhow, this was the fall of 1999 when this all happened, about 8 months before I graduated from college. After Tristan's wedding, we spoke a few times on the phone and then basically lost touch again around the same time I graduated from college (which, I suppose, is understandable as well -- I did move from Nebraska to California).
Since then, there's been the odd attempts at communication, but Tristan and I had seemed to go our seperate ways again. When I started teaching Erin stage combat, though, I started telling a lot of Tristan stories (which is natural, I suppose, since I tie Tristan to that part of my life) and Erin kept bugging me to try and find Tristan, so with a little luck and some work on the Internet, I found a phone number. First time I called it, I got Lana, Tristan's wife, and left a message. No response. So I called again, left a message on their machine. And again. And again. And again. And finally... I reached him. Holy fucking shit.
Tristan, as it turns out, is doing relatively well. Lana is newly pregnant (due in May, I believe he said), Tristan's in the middle of changing jobs, he's got a dog now and they're renting out a house, where it sounded like the in-laws were currently staying with them (although I believe they were just visiting) ... the funny thing about Tristan is that I'd always pictured him as the guy who'd be, as Bob Dylan put it, "Forever Young." And instead, he's getting older, faster, than any of the rest of us. I never thought Tristan would be the one who'd be with the wife and 2.5 kids before he turned 30, but it sounds like he's well on his way. He's still in theater, although he's doing much more managerial work now, having just given up his job of "building puppets" -- I kid you not, he really is that kind of guy. He sounded well, albiet tired and weary, and it was good to hear from him. He's got my cell phone number now (although knowing Tristan he'll never use it) and we both promised to try and stay in better touch.
Talking to Tristan made me realize something, though. I'm no longer a young man. I'm now at that phase in my life where I am a man. End of sentence, end of story. I don't particularly care for it much, I have to confess, being older, but we all go through it. I mean, Tristan is having a kid! Almost all my friends are married or on their way to being married! My ten year high school reunion is less than 3 years away! My younger brother, eleven years my junior, is in high school! It's all going by so fast... I blinked and somewhere along the line, years slipped away from me. Is this all that I've done? Is this all that I've created? Is this all that I would leave behind were I to pass away today? ... Have I really had so little an impact?
I've been giving it some time to settle since then, and I've come to understand that I'm okay with where I'm at now. I have made impacts in people's lives. I am important to people. Maybe not a lot. Maybe not even more than a handful, but to those in that handful, I am important, I am meaningful. And you know what? I think that's enough. That'll do. I am getting older, but I'm okay with that as well. It just means that I have to keep going, and keep working, and keep dreaming, and keep hoping, no matter how often those hopes are crushed, no matter how often the spirit is snuffed out.
I'm still a cynic, make no mistake. The world still deals me shitty hands and I expect that. Hell, I prepare for it. But I'd rather it dealt them to me than to my friends. And I can take it. Honestly. Bring it on. Because despite as depressing as I can come across as from time to time, I am strong enough to beat this. To beat all of this. To live, survive and thrive.
So, how was your day?
NOW PLAYING: Mogwai - "Take Me Somewhere Nice"
Lyrics: (a rarity for a Mogwai song) "ghosts in the photograph/ never lied to me. / i'd be all of that / i'd be all of that. / a false memory / would be everything. / a denial my eliminent. / what was that for? / what was that for? / what would you do / if you saw spaceships / over glasgow? / would you fear them? / every aircraft, / every camera, / is a wish that / wasn't granted. / what was that for? / what was that for? / try to be bad. / try to be bad..."
(P.S. I know I'm probably the only Mogwai fan I'll ever meet, but you all have no idea what you're missing...)
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