Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about fish sticks, hangin' out, and clones.

"Write a story that includes fish sticks in some central way. Yup, that's right. Fish sticks. Frozen, fried fish sticks."

What's goin' on people? Three prompts and a song, so I might as well get down to business...except there's a bit of a problem.

These are kinda tough prompts. Or maybe I'm just not really in a mood to think. Either option works; reader's choice.

Let's start with the fish sticks one, if only to get it out of the way because I don't really have a story to go along with it, and most of you know how I feel about inventing fiction for the purpose of filling up a blog entry (as a refresher, I'm not into it).

But it's funny how this prompt got thrown into circulation this week, given that yesterday was Ash Wednesday if you're keeping score at home on your Catholic calendar. This marks the start of the traditional Lenten season, where you're supposed to give up something for the 40 days before Easter lest an angry Jesus returns all zombie-like to sentence you to eternal hellfire because you're a greedy, undisciplined bitch to, I dunno, maybe get chocolate bunnies and jelly beans and shit. You're also not supposed to eat meat on Fridays, because animals matter, but for some reason it's ok to eat fish...probably 'cuz they don't have any feelings  .

Obviously, I don't do the Catholic thing these days, for many reasons (too many restrictions, for starters, but that's a topic for a whole 'nother time). I was, however, brought up to be Catholic, so we observed a lot of the traditions...went to mass and Sunday School, put a buck in the collection plate, and never lied to priests (except that one time our class pissed off the teacher, so she gave up and let us do whatever we wanted...my buddy and I stole some chalk, drew dead body outlines in front of the school's doorway, and roamed around the building 'til a priest found us in the basement. I forget what we told him when he asked why we were down there, but I can assure you it was definitely a lie, because for days we were positive God was somehow gonna punish us for lying to a priest. Also, we were like 10 years old, so we were indestructible to mere men of the cloth.). But I digress...

So we really tried to not eat meat on Fridays, which, man, I don't think I could ever do now, because meat and I have a relationship that transcends organized religion.

What that meant when we were young and poor was that there were a lot of Fish Stick Fridays. Because when you're a kid, the novelty of some foods almost trumps taste and nutritional value. You know that when you're a parent and your kid won't eat anything else but Frosted Flakes so you give up and you're like "I don't care, go ahead and eat cereal for dinner!" and you say it like you're actually scolding the child but deep down you're just satisfied the li'l sumbitch'll eat anything (as I alluded to yesterday, this is just one of the many reasons why I'm not a parent). Now where was I? Oh yeah...fish sticks.

I love 'em. I don't care if it's probably the worst god damn fish in the world, pulled out of a swamp by some hobo with a tin can tied to a stick with a piece of string. It could come out of the sewer for all I care. It probably doesn't even have to be formerly amphibious or reptilian or whatever fish are also scientifically known as. If it says "Fish Sticks" on the box, please pass the ketchup, because it's for me. Bonus points if there's a guy on the box wearing a raincoat looking like instead of a fishing pole he should have a hook for a hand straight up out a horror flick.

"Where was your hangout spot as a teenager? Have you been back there since adulthood?"

This is tough, because I never really had a "spot", and now I'm thinking to myself "What the hell did I do in my teenage years?" I played a lot of sports, but there were parks and fields for that...there was a predominant Catholic girls' high school/co-ed college in my mom's neighborhood where we'd play football on the corner lot of their property until the nuns would chase us off, and we'd get pretty mouthy with them, but I never really considered that "hangin' out" because besides the nuns we were staying out of trouble. When I think of teenagers hangin' out, it mainly consists of idle kids bored and waiting for problems to find them by doing stuff they probably shouldn't be...and that's not to say I didn't get into my share of bad decision-making, but there wasn't ever really a dedicated location for that.

There was always the local mall on the weekends, under the guise of "lookin' for chicks" or whatever we called it...teenage boys didn't go to the mall to shop. We went to walk around, practice our game talkin' to girls, trying to get phone numbers, and- depending on who you were with- shoplifting may or may not have happened. Because boys are dumb, and there's always that one kid no one really wants to invite but his parents were good for a ride either to the Galleria or back (presuming there were no trips to the police station involved).

Sometimes I'd go to the mall with my cousin and his friends, when I'd stay at my dad's on the weekends...and we got tossed out of the mall once for kickin' around a street hockey ball. Not ideal "busy mall on a Saturday night" behavior. And this was before cell phones, which complicated everything because we couldn't get a hold of my aunt or uncle to pick us up (they agreed to get us when the mall was closed, not when security decided we weren't welcome anymore). It was a bit ridiculous, because I guess whomever was coming to get us, if I remember correctly, was actually shopping at the mall before meeting us, and we had no idea. So here's like six or seven kids, schemin' for payphone quarters and ways to get back into the mall without getting caught (because the only thing you could rely on more back then besides teenage boys acting like over-hormoned skin bags was their paranoia of being busted a second time by rent-a-cops), and it was all useless because our ride was somewhere on the property but there wasn't a way to establish contact. Believe me when I say that life used to be hard.

"You have just cloned yourself. What responsiblities will you give your clone?"

First of all, have we even decided that me cloning myself is a good idea? Because I'm not convinced it is, and I've been trying for the better part of the afternoon to talk myself into the idea.

And that hard part is, I know myself, so I don't think I'd be able to get away with just making my clone do all the shit I don't wanna do. And to make matters worse, what if people somehow like my clone better than they like me? What if the clone manages to bite his tongue at the right time, or possesses a restraint that might elude me on occasion? How do I know there already isn't a clone of me living in some sort of parallel universe, and he's won Pulitzer Prizes because blogging on that world is the most acceptable form of communication and entertainment? What then is left for me to do here on Earth, if my clone is super awesome somewhere else?

Don't answer that. Don't answer any of that.

Let's just assume I'd have some power of control over this new version of me. No doubt would I use him as a test subject to say and do all the things I'm too chickenshit to do, within reason. He could talk politely to strangers who are just trying to be friendly while he's eating. He'd fly a little off the handle over the minor injustices perpetrated against him by all the rude idiots of the world, instead of just letting things slide. And he would definitely take chances and the low road to ensure his success.

Who am I kidding? If I did all that, this duplicate would be in jail within a week. But maybe that's all a part of my evil plan...I never said I had this scientific cloning thing all fool-proof and figured out.

** Image ID #1970900 Unavailable **

I'm not always 100% comfortable around large groups of people that I don't know especially well...maybe I could use a clone to keep me company in those situations. I'm outgoing to an extent, but more often than not I'd prefer being by myself or in small groups, away from crowds.

I've been invited to places like weddings and luncheons and gatherings where the only person I knew was the one who asked me to go. And I would say yes, because it always seemed like a good idea at the time...but sometimes I need to experience being overwhelmed before I realize that there are some things I'm just not cut out for. It sucks, because of the way some circumstances have the tendency to end badly. Everyone means well; life just has other plans.

I'd heard this song a ton of times- I had the tape not long after it came out (and well before Billy Corgan turned into a caricature of himself)- but the significance didn't really hit me 'til maybe ten years later. Me and my boy DMFM were coming back from a cookout with friends and friends of friends (mostly people he went to school with), and there was a bit of a lull in the conversation. It was a drive on the longer side, and it wasn't a bad time, but I wasn't entirely at ease (looking back now on the whole thing and knowing what I know about myself). "Soma" by Smashing Pumpkins came on the stereo, and it'd been awhile since I'd last heard it...because we were quiet, I just listened to it like I'd normally listen to music with headphones on in solitude. Really taking in the words; letting the emotion build with the crescendo of the song. It hit me that I might always have friends, and there will be people that for whatever reason come into my life, but I will also be alone, and maybe there's a part of me that will always feel like that. Even among people I know and love.

It's hard to know sometimes who's with you and who's against you. It's hard for me to trust people because you don't always know their intentions, and you're not exactly certain where you or where they're gonna be in five, ten, or twenty years' time. I've made the mistake of befriending people because maybe I was put in a position to make a difference or be something I wasn't entirely capable of. And I don't doubt people have thought the same about me. But sometimes we have to deal with being alone, because in the end all you really have is you.

"I'm all by myself...
as I've always felt.
I'll betray myself...to anyone, lost, anyone but you."
Lyrics.  

1975: I'm a love bunny! Well, ok, I'm not entirely sure about that, but today is the Chinese New Year (I half-expected to see a prompt somewhere about that), and I'm not crazy into any of that zodiac stuff or the idea that my birth year means anything...even if this description   seems to be somewhat fitting for me.

Yo Vanilla...looks like you kicked it one too many times  , booooyyyyyyy.

It's true we'll cover lots of thousands of miles over the course of our lives, but maybe you've never thought of distances these random things   may possibly go. Personally, some of these are spot-on; others...not so much.

And finally, this is why I'll never be a teacher   (outside of the obvious lack of qualifications). I'd never be able to keep my composure if these were my students.

Ok, well, I hope this whole thing doesn't sound as challenging as it felt like writing it. Peace, close your eyes, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!