Away with you, but come back, before I realize that I've lost where I am.

Everything seems to flow away so quickly now, and takes its time to come back around.

Freshmen, turned seniors, almost three times since I last cared. So short to me, eternity for them.

My letter came. I sent it to myself ages ago. I wished myself a good day, but the expectations ran high.

Too long before I left the land of institutionalized learning. Everything moved ahead so much while I was there.

I want to stop thinking about it. I want to think I can make it big somehow. But those sorts of things are for the young, the ones to whom three years is forever.

I can't imagine a world before instant transfer, where hearing the sound would mean a trip outside, a purchase and a gamble wrought in anticipation, in hopes that a kindred vibration would be found. I would not say I would avoid such a transaction, it is all worth is when the vibration first plays, the swell that surges along the edge of my diaphragm, the wonder that sends unadulterated chemicals in my brain. And yet, the limitations before the communication of digits, would have kept me from experiencing a day like yesterday, where a wealth of kindred vibrations were given me; I sat in a desk and vicariously felt the thrill of success.

I was a superhero, once

I woke up this morning feeling restless. This doesn't happen much, considering the routines life seems to require. Exercise, stretch, eat, work, sleep, passion. But sometimes I wish I could just put all that aside for a day.

But then a day like that starts to happen, and I realize how little I want it. Layers of my past and promises unkept find their way to me, and I can't shake a deep nostalgia that makes me wonder when I grew up. When I started to take note of reality and subscribe to routine.

But the routine makes sense. It makes things easier to cope with.

Because I was once a superhero.

Every young boy (and likely every girl, but I've never been one, so I don't know) is the star of his own show, the hero of his own story. Every girl he meets, every field he enters, every new experience is undoubtedly destined to become just like the Saturday images we watched since we were too small to go outside.

But then the ending never happened. The plotlines didn't quite come together. I'm certain I almost saved the lives of millions, I almost became a star with a guitar in my hand, I almost became someone everyone looks up to. Someday has already gone by.

Time for routine.

The Old Friend

It had been nearly a year, or at least that's how long it had seemed, since I had spoken to The Old Friend.

It was funny how well we got along so quickly. Music, life, perspective. We're nothing the same, yet our roots seem to grow in mirrored patterns. Aptitudes and abilities. If we were co-workers we would likely scale the corporate ladder simply because of our cooperative efforts. But we don't dig that sort of thing. There is a lot more to life than trying to stand on the head of your fellow.

Music plays whenever we talk. It just happens. Maybe one of us triggers it, I don't know. The Blues ring loud, sounds fluid as gravel, and we like it that way. We travel the world in the music we share back and forth, and we are the richest alive. Though we're both as poor as they come. The internet fuels that facade, but that's okay, because we were both born in the internet.

Outlet. Flow through the outlet, time and stress. The Old Friend is here, and the times are moving forward around us.

Na Beira da Loucura

Não estou falando do filme. Nunca ouviu falar? É melhor assim.

Bem, estou com pouco tempo explicar o que está acontecendo...

Não sei porque me sinto assim, mas estou provavelmente virando louco.

Outro dia, estava jogando e testando nossa tradução de Earthbound, e algo estranho aconteceu...


"Jarede..." Olhei ao meu redor, e não vi nada....

"Jarede, você não está com fome...?"

"Nope" Respondi em Inglês.

E assim perdi a vontade comer por quase três dias.

Quero mais conhecer Shigesato Itoi...

Não sou nada.
Nunca serei nada.
Não posso querer ser nada.
À parte isso, tenho em mim todos os sonhos do mundo.

By the pricking of my thumbs... something wicked this way comes...