Jewish Rapper...I never saw it coming. I mean its the biggest oxymoron ever...but I absolutely love it. His name is Matisyahu, and even though I am a rock chick at heart, he has blown me away with his reggae(yes reggae).
I found out about him, on Vh1 or something, and though at first I was like " a Jewish reggae singer" what is it like a gimmick or something. Hell no people, the man is amazing. And I am hooked.
I notice than when I want something really bad, I think about it until I get it. I will search everywhere until I have it, like I can't be complete without it. So today I dragged my mom all over the place, until I found his Cd.
Though I would like to say this entry was all about how amazing and moving he is. It's about what I saw at Best Buy that shocked the hell out of me.
Coming home. It's a weird thing. I don't even mean me being home on break. But I mean the process of going home at all. The whole concept of Garden State in my mind, is finding your place where you spent the majority of your time running from. It's complicated. Even when I go back to Westchester, I seem to want to touch everything I may have touched when I was a kid. I go to the place where I kissed that Jason boy, and the park where my brother thought he was Superman and jumped from a very high part, only to be hospitalized. I go back my schools most of all. I guess I think by surrounding myself with things from my past, that pat of my life will rub off on me.
Some people want to go back home to prove how much they have changed. I like going back because I see that it hasn't change, and I like that in a way it never will. That yellow house on Chatteron Ave, in White Plains will always be the place that I laid my head at when I was younger. The time I skated in the house leaving horrible marks on the floor, the place where my brother got stung by a bee, our bus stop. They will always remain the same, because they are apart of me, and I guess i'm happy with that stability.
But what I don't like about returning home, is seeing all that has changed. People are now older, memories seem to be foggier, and it doesn't really seem like your home anymore. I guess I'm not talking about Westchester as much as I am talking about returning to my house for Christmas break. When I was in highschool I made it a point to not like it. I told people right off the back " I don't want to be remember at this school, I just want to fade away so when I become successful in anything I do no one from my past will track me down saying they knew me." But even though I did tell people that, I manage to make some friends and connections along the way, I mean it's life, there is no way you can go through life without making connections.
So while I was at Best Buy searching for my new obsession, I noticed a girl with extremely bright converse shoes. I mean they were orange, and stood out. Now I'm not one to just pass converse shoes without staring to see who the owner is. But her back was turned to me, so I went and got my CD, forgetting about the shoes. When I got in line, with my new cherished Cd, my mom pointed out the orange shoes. Now maybe it is because I am familiar with this girl, but even from the back I still kind of had a feeling that I knew this girl. I mean she is tall, has pale skin, and short curly hair. But I didn't want to be like "hey I think I know you" while she was trying to buy something.
Then I heard her laugh and knew it was her. (Oh...So about a month ago I took a learning test to see what type of learner I am ,and I thought I was a reading learning, but I found out that I am actually an "listening" learner, which makes since cause I have a way with sounds. Which is probably why I concentrate on how people say things. I guess I also recognize voices before anything else. ). I was about to go up to her, real excited that I had seen somebody from highschool I had made a "connection" with.
But as I approached, she turned slightly exposing her full belly I'm guessing she was around 7 months pregnant. I stopped right in my tracks, and some how thought my eyes had deceived me. Could it be? I mean clearly it was but..Shocked wasn't even the word, it was more like...It was like when you realize your home isn't really your home anymore. That though things remain, they never will be the same.
Her name is Jessica. And we were the rebels of our journalism class. While we wrote articles on abortion and other topics, the rest wrote articles on clothes, our princiPAl, and our football team losing again. We had formed a weird creative friendship. She brought me to her art class, where we ate cereal with the amazingly hott art teacher, and I took her to work in the library with me. It was one of those friendship, that begin so fast you think may have meet each other in another lifetime. The things with those type of friendships are that they are magical when all the pieces of fate are aligned. I had joined journalism after dropping a grammar class my guidance counselor had suggested( he just didn't mention that most of the people in the were freshman, I was a junior in a honors English coure, I had no business being there. It was awkward, we played the grammar game with pinto beans and dealt with simple sentence structures. I was out of there quick) , she really didn't like journalism because they never put in her articles...We bonded soon after that.
She was...quirky. She liked art, and wore different colored converse, and even let me dye them blue for no reason. And I liked her because she didn't care about being her...she just was and made no excuses about it.
When the year ended, we didn't see much of each other, and when my last year of school began, she was just beginning her junior year. We just didn't see much of each other. We were still cool though, excited when we say each other in the hall, but that was all.
So upon seeing her in Best Buy, I was a little more than shocked to see her pregnant. I mean she is talented, and had so much potential and now she is going to be a mother. Like a mother mother. And I got sad. Because unless she has the incredible drive, which if I know anything about her she doesn't, like Kay to succeed and do something better with her life then she will just do nothing fantastic with her life, as I know she can do. She will just be "that person who stays in their hometown an never made anything out of themselves." I mean there is nothing with staying in your hometown, I would more than move back to my hometown, but I will have seen and explored, and let myself know what was out there. Not be trapped because I had no incentive to want to explore this huge world.
Maybe its just because I expect something more than just to settle for what has been given to me. I expect to travel, and experience, and live freely before starting a new home and family.
So thats the thing about coming home, the place is the same, the memories always linger, but some how you know the faces are a little different. I guess thats the sad thing about it, because even though you go home to remember all the good times, that realization that those times aren't "real" anymore, makes you lose a little something with each journey back.
1 comment:
Very interesting Beckett, in posts where someone is married and or kids are involved something sparks in you. For lack of a better word, resentment almost
Please forgive if I may sound obtuse.
But you seem to think that being married is a life condemning thing, as with having children. That these things will halt your process in life. unless some unseen or inconceivable force. Drives you to better yourself.
It’s these people, your husbands or wives, Children. That don’t hinder you life experience they enriched them.
that’s something which a trip anywhere in the world can never do. I think what it may be is resentment for your own family.
As we both seem to have similar backgrounds, I am confident in stating this. Just because your own family may have had issues and or problems doesn’t mean that you will also inherit these problems.
It’s this force which drives people to better themselves. Not something which can be bought. I have found in life, there are some lessons which can be taught. But the most important ones can never be taught, but must be experienced.
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