Time Capsule

At my highschool graduation, my English teacher handed out the “time capsule” essays that she had us write at the start of grade 9. They described our lives at the time; our favorite activities, music, movies, shows, and our best friends.

Naturally, my current group of friends was vastly different from the list on the page. But there was one name on the list that stood out. The name was “Josh”. He stood out because I had no idea who he was.

I could not, for the life of me, remember ever having a friend, let alone a “best friend” named Josh. My parents and friends didn’t know who he was either. But there he was, one of my seven or eight best friends from grade 9. It was as if he was ashamed of me, and subsequently erased himself from history and all recollection.

I sometimes wonder who Josh was, and what he might be like if we met again today. I hope I’d recognize him.

3:41 AM

I find the hours between 3AM and 5 AM to be the most foreign hours of the night. If staying up late, I normally go to bed by 2, or 3 at the latest. And if getting up early, its never before 5. They are the forsaken hours that don't belong to either the late night hours preceding, or the approaching wee hours of morning.

Last night, I woke up at 3:41 AM. I noted the time specifically, because there seemed to be no real reason for my being awake. I wasn't hungry or thirsty, not too warm, not too cold, and didn't have to go the bathroom. But I was wide awake.

I got up and quietly stole out of my room into the kitchen. There was snow on the ground that was bare when I went to bed, and more was falling. That was pretty cool. My roommate was snoring subtly in his room. I had some water from the Brita filter, and sat on the couch, bathed in pale blue light from snow-filtered street lamps. I was at a loss as to what to do with myself. I was completely alert, not tired whatsoever. I couldn't remember this happening ever before.

I then had an idea that may have already been obvious to some. I prayed. Lately, I've been very busy, but still seriously neglecting to give time to prayer. I gave thought to the matter as I went to bed the night before (without praying). I guess God woke me up and said "Don't have time for Me? Then lets make some time."

Thank you, God. That was fun and refreshing. Lets hang out more often.

I can’t remember the last time I threw up. It was probably a couple years ago at least. I also can’t remember the last time I was stung by a bee or wasp. Maybe its because I’m just lucky. Maybe its because I’ve been horribly paranoid about Bees ever since one stung me for NO REASON.

Everyone says “Michael, bees don’t sting you for NO REASON. You must have threatened it or gone near its hive or something” Those people are dead wrong. It happened when I was about 6 or 7 I think. I was playing mini golf, walking from one hole to the next. I spotted the bee flying toward me from the opposite side of the course, I stopped and watched it for a good 3 or 4 seconds. It flew straight at me, landed on the tip of my nose, and stung me for NO REASON. No it was not a dream, no I’m not making it up, yes I remember correctly.

For the Love of the Game?

The two activities I enjoy most are playing sports and playing music. I once wondered why, in fact, I enjoyed them so much.

Music requires massive amounts of practice and discipline. Scales, chords, rhythms. Endless repetition of menial actions. The same goes for sports, only those actions are physically demanding as well as menial. Wind sprints, power skating, stretching, passing drills, shooting drills... It doesn’t sound like much fun on the surface.

But the fun doesn’t lie in the act itself, I think. It comes from the satisfaction of knowing you are the best that you can be at the actions, and can bring them all together to be better than someone else.

Even more than these two things, I think, my satisfaction comes from the recognition and attention I get from others as a result of playing well. If I score a goal in hockey or sing really well at a show, people are impressed, and it feels good. They acknowledge my worth by cheering for me, and who doesn’t love to be cheered for?

I think it stems from the same part of a person that longs for acceptance and to be part of a group, such as a band or team. My band and team are glad to have me because I contribute something of worth. I’m useful.

I don’t know whether or not it’s shallow to enjoy sports and music for the recognition. Some might think I ought to be doing it purely for the love of music and for the love of the game.

Honorable Thieves

We are repeatedly reminded in Creative Writing class that writers are “honorable thieves”, and stealing interesting words, effective forms, and intriguing subjects is condoned and encouraged. I’ve started to do this, but it certainly feels less than honorable.

I’ve dealt with such plundering of ideas before, in the context of writing music. As a young and naive musician, I believed every piece of music should be completely new and different from every other. It was frustrating to write under such conditions, because every riff, progression, or melody I thought I’d made up myself, I later discovered to be a copy, in whole or in part, of something I’d heard before.

I also didn’t want to play cover songs. I viewed it as a cop out. What self-respecting band steals other people’s music? You’re just admitting you’re not good enough to come up with anything good on your own.

My opinion started to change when I started to hear similarities between popular songs. Sometimes I would hear a pair of riffs, melodies, or forms that were simply too blatantly identical to be written coincidentally.

My dad pointed out that its hard to write something new that sounds better than something previously done. Musicians have been trying to push artistic boundaries for decades, and to some degree, especially stylistically, they have. But by and large, popular musicians have been cranking out essentially the same songs for just as long. The recycled riffs work, simply, because they have worked for years, and will continue to work for year to come.

Nowadays, I guiltlessly and intentionally steal stuff from songs all the time. I guess I should do the same with my writing.

Writing Journal

I've been taking a Creative Writing class for my elective this semester. The teacher assigned that we keep a "writing journal" to hand in at a specified date. In this journal, we were instructed to record ideas for stories and poems, words, names, descriptions of people and situations, overheard conversations, interesting things from books we read, lists, things that give us joy or make us mad, fragments of memories, dreams, or anything really.

Whenever I recorded an idea, it never felt right to leave it as a snippet. Perhaps because of years of vigorous essay-writing training by Mrs. Footz, I always felt the need to expand on the fragments and flesh them out into fully-functioning ideas. I began to do just that.

Several friends, upon hearing me describe this assignment, expressed interest in reading the journal. I've since decided to periodically post my favorite bits here, for the reading pleasure of anyone interested. Though the writing journal was my inspiration for starting this blog, I will continue to write and share my ideas past the completion of the assignment.

The title of this blog, First Class Honesty, is exactly what you can expect from everything you read here. My views are honest and authentically represented in what I hope is an entertaining and/or thought provoking way. (First Class Honesty is also the name of my band, for the same reasons)

Enjoy, and don't forget to comment!