Time Capsule: “Sleep Typing”

“Live in each moment.”

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Hello, world!

Do you ever look back on your life and realize that truly you can only get a small glimpse of who you were, that somehow along the way you have become the summation of multiple people, various chapters blending and blurring?

I do.

Then again, somehow along the way, we maintain a central core, a solid medium to which we always return – constancy despite consistency.

STORY TIME:

Back in the Summer of 2010, I took a trip to Hawaii with my family. We stayed there for eleven days. And, yes, I recorded each and every individual day in blog form. I also took photos. And I took several videos with my Flipshare video camera, eventually compiling them into a single document to gift to my siblings.

Church Photo
Summer 2009 (Little Isaac wasn’t born yet.)

Funny enough, like most things in my life, the files were destroyed before I could burn them to a disk.

Why were they destroyed?

While I was in college, I broke my laptop screen (for the third time) and took my Mac to a store for reparation. When I had the screen replaced, I did not back any of my files up, despite the guy in the blue polo having asked me to do so. Thus, the tangible memories were deleted.

The potential lesson to be learned: Live in each moment, but make sure to mark the good ones – and sometimes even the bad ones.

FLASH FORWARD:

Fortunately, I did keep the stories. And for the next few blog entries, I will be recalling the days when I went to Hawaii.

[Until then, a quick summary of the Time Capsule: Justin of 2010 loved Doctor Who, Glee, traveling libraries, Pokemon, and staying up late to write.]

Please enjoy this quote from Doctor Who, an alien who sums up the coming-off and putting-on of masks and centrality of character:

“Come on, then. Take mine. Take my memories. But I hope you’ve got a big appetite because I’ve lived a long life and I’ve seen a few things. I walked away from the Last Great Time War. I marked the passing of the Time Lords. I saw the birth of the universe and I watched as time ran out, moment by moment, until nothing remained. No time. No space. Just me. I walked in universes where the laws of physics were devised by the mind of a madman. I’ve watched universes freeze and creations burn. I have seen things you wouldn’t believe. I have lost things you will never understand. And I know things, secrets that must never be told and knowledge that must never be spoken. Knowledge that will make parasite gods blaze. So come on then! Take it! Take it all, baby! Have it! You have it all!”

Time Capsule: “Myspace Breakup”

“I just don’t trust you with my life stories anymore.”

Sure, I should be more responsible.

I should be reading Shakespeare’s Hamlet right now for my Introduction to Graduate Studies course.

should have begun reading it on Saturday afternoon, but I made some different choices.

And here I am again, making some choices I may regret later. Guess we’ll see when the time comes.

Moving on: I enjoyed reading Alpha’s Journal. I enjoyed formulating my own opinions on the anonymous subject matter.

And a thought occurred to me while I was doing it: I could do this to my own writing.

STORY TIME:

Back in the Spring of 2015, back when I graduated from Bryan College with a B. S. in Theatre Arts (and a minor in Counseling Psychology), I was on – let’s call it – an emotional high, a manic episode, recovering from an extreme emotional low, a depressive state.

No, I’m not confessing that I suffer from bipolar disorder. I’m just saying that in the heat of the moment I decided to, well, heat things up in more than one way.

One night late May, I said to my mom, “Hey, can I make a bonfire in your back yard and burn all my papers from my sophomore year of high school until now?”

I have always been extremely organized when it comes to paperwork (and I’m a Collector), so I gathered together all my notes from Spanish classes, Creative Writing classes, Theatre classes, Music classes, Journalism classes, and Psychology classes – about 18 notebooks in all and at least four journals. But it didn’t stop there.

The pyromaniac in me needed to burn old cards, letters, mementos, memory after memory. Everything I had collected over the years went up in smoke.

Today I sat in my Stage Management class, regretting the decision to burn all my notes. But I guess the lesson is, “You live and you learn.” I’m someone who has to learn the hard way.

FLASH FORWARD:

Luckily for all of us, I saved my blog posts from previous blogs on my dad’s hard drive at his place, and I brought them with me to Louisiana.

So, I can write notes to my past.

Please enjoy this rendition of “Myspace Breakup,” circa 2009. It’s a brief, satirical love poem addressed to technology, and if you happen to remember my third attempt at vlogging, you’ll probably remember the time I read this in front of the camera.

TIME CAPSULE:

This is what happens when I force myself to stay up so late, but I have no reason to wake up at a certain time tomorrow. I actually posted this on Myspace. It holds all my true feelings about Myspace in it:

“I don’t like to blog on Myspace. It doesn’t feel completely right. Actually, nothing feels right with Myspace anymore. I’m sorry, Myspace, but I’ve found others that love me for who I am: Facebook, Blogspot, YouTube, and Twitter. You’re just too immature for me, now. We can stay friends, but I just don’t trust you with my life stories anymore. Blogspot gets me. She understands. . . It might actually be a he, but I don’t mind, really. I can tell Blogspot everything. Granted, I don’t talk to Blogspot much these days, but I’m trying. With Facebook, I feel the happiest, way happier than I was with you. I update her, or him, at least seven times a day. We like the same things, and we have the same friends. Facebook makes things much simpler. I know that we have all of those memories – my pictures – but I could just as easily save them on my Flash Drive. I named it, but I forgot the name. Anyways, with YouTube I can be more outgoing, and things are more public without me feeling like I’m being stalked. Twitter has all the qualities of a wonderful listener. You just don’t. I wish I could make things the way they used to be, but I can feel the strain on our relationship. I hope you understand.

It’s over with love,
Justin M. Jones

P.S. If you don’t change, I’m afraid that I’ll have to take my things and leave for good. There will be no friendship at all.”

Alpha’s Journal: Part 8

What am I doing?

And now for the final installment of poetry, written by anonymous Joshua Alpha from Georgia — could be anyone, really:

“What am I doing?

And where am I going?

I bet these questions are asked every day.

I’m doing my best,

And I know my best is worthy.

And I know my worst gets thirsty,

And I give in.

But I’ll keep my faith.

I’ll stay drunk on love.

Just wait.

I can’t wait. . .

But I guess I’ll have to. . .

So I will.

I will.”

There you have it, folks. But in all reality, these posts have taught me quite a bit, mainly that you never really know when you’re going to stumble across someone else’s scribbles. It’s kind of fun to look into the mind of another person, someone you just don’t know.

Alpha’s Journal: Part 7

How can one confuse light for darkness?

Once again, I need to reiterate that this is not my journal, meaning I did not pick up smoking, if anyone happens to stumble across this blog entry. This poem is from a journal that recently and quite mysteriously showed up in my life.

 

“Every time I smoke I reflect.

The only reflection I see is you.

Mirrors show you what’s behind you,

And I guess I’m stuck in this looking glass.

 

I exhale with hope and exhale in the present.

Faith is a hell of a burden.

No guarantee, No proof, Just believe.

It’s a hard thing to have unless you can feel it. 

Emotions are physical even when not physically present.

Gift. A blessing and a curse.”

 

[Boy, this poem is more confusing than anything. Hell does not pertain to faith; Hell has all to do with fear — a twisted faith deriving from all things not of God. And faith does not have anything to with our power, our will, our feelings; they are a gift of grace by God Himself (when we submit our wills to His purpose), and everyone struggles with faith because we cannot manifest it for ourselves, within ourselves.

“Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.”

Again, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

We all have some growth to do. But it’s important not to confuse punishment (i.e. fear) with love (i.e. faith).]

Alpha’s Journal: Part 6

Here or there.

Here we go again, another anonymous poem:

“I wish I could say

What I want to say,

But you’d never hear it

When you’re so far away.

So I’ll write and sing

And pray every night

Until the day you

Hear that you’re the songs I write.

Why can’t we be where we want,

Right by each others’ side?

Everyone else seems to have a problem, 

But they’re wrong if they think we’ve kissed

For the last time.

Here or there,

I know you’re my little lady.

I’m not crazy.”

Alpha’s Journal: Part 5

Quick script from a young poet:

And here we have another poem from the leather journal I unknowingly found while checking out the Crack House:

“I never though thought

I’d loose lose love

Once it was truly found.

You let go,

And I fell back to the ground.

I picked myself up

And learned to fly alone.

I swear I’m gonna going to

Make it all on my own.

I’m racing home.”

Alpha’s Journal: Part 4

Love is action; it is not a feeling.

“I was so close to you.

You were so close to me.

Blinded by your light, 

I could barely see,

I’d been in the dark

Just waiting for a match

To light my fuse

And bring me back.

I can’t see a damn thing.

I’ve just been sitting here listening. . .

Wondering. . .

What about True love?

Is it really so hard to find?

Underneath this Georgia Sun,

Yeah, good things come in time.

What about the heartache?

I knew there’d be a price.

Nothing about love’s easy, 

Except the way we feel tonight.

Tonight.”

[I guess that answers my questions about the origin of this mysterious journal. Huh, Georgia. Well, Alpha, as usual, I have a few responses: You want to find True Love? Check out 1 John 4:8. There you’ll find that love, in fact, is not a feeling, but it is an act. And in response to your question, it’s really not that hard to find; just pick up the bible on your coffee table.]