welp its been a hell of a week, good, bad, ugly,
Ive danced, sang, laughed, cried, rocked out until my body literally collapsed in a heap. I met so many amazing people, some that I hope will be friends for a long time, and if nothing else the memories made will last as long as my brain is capable of remembering i suppose.
One wouldn't think that within the last 7 days so much could have occurred, but it has, and always does in my life. The high's of going to Dewey, hanging with the most down to earth, yet up in the stars people that I can ever find (and both statements are true and not contradictory if you understand Dewey).
Yes we drank ourselves silly, but it wasn't just the alcohol, it was more of the atmosphere that makes Dewey so great. Amazing music, such an open and inviting town, very small and community oriented, yet very accepting of those who just want to totally let loose and be in the moment. That is Dewey a city of moments, many forgotten, but enriched within ones soul forever is the awesomeness that commences.
I would go into details, and I will in another post that is specifically about the Dewey Adventure. But right now want to focus on the comedown. See a comedown from Dewey is inevitable. When one rocks out for 3 days straight, many times forgetting to eat, never really sleeping, and drinking more than most people from "the normal world" would consider humanly possible, a crash back into reality following is to be expected, and you can expect it to be painful. It usually takes about a week to settle back into reality, and that's if you dint end up getting sick which could compound it even worse.
Well I was fully prepared for this week to be the Dewey comedown, but I guess God wanted to test my boundaries and not only smack me in the face with the back from Dewey reality, but slug me with another double whammy right off the bat. On the car ride back I was checking my facebook to see some horrible news about a friend who had had a freak accident while working on cutting down trees.
He had fallen, was put into a coma, with major damage, and while I'm reading about this got a text message from my nephew saying that they were taking him off of life support that afternoon. It took the rest of the ride for it to really sink in. It wasnt that he and I were very close, we shared a lot of mutual friends, hung out here and there through them, but there was always something special about him.
He had his vices and downside by many a means, but despite any of them, he was always there to help any friend any time he could. And he just really didn't care to settle for the normal fakeness of reality. Always liked to push boundaries, and always seemed to do his best to put a smile on the face of those around him. He reminded me a lot of myself in that, hell maybe I even picked a little of it up from him at some point.
By the time I settled in that night he had left us, and it was all slowly settling in, it ushered back memories of one of our good friends we had lost some years back to a motorcycle crash, as they were both part of a crazy motorcycle summer we had pushing limits, breaking rules, and owning our own fates.
It all just had me in a very nostalgic, sentimental place dreaming of moments past and moments lived.
I woke up in the morning and had a song stuck in my head, well really a few lines from a song stuck in my head, that really just told the rebel story of my friends lost, and the zest for life we had shared. I was already running late so I told my carpool to roll without me and I decided to ride the motorcycle in to work that morning. Already slightly speeding to make up time. The rumbling of the motor seemed to keep beat to the song playing in my head (as long as I kept the throttle twisted). The words "dreams were meant for chasing, chasing's meant for fools, fools are meant for living hard and breaking all the rules, rules bring comfort to the old and keep the younger ones in line, and lines are meant for crossing by the no good dreaming kind" (Thank you Levi Lowery) played over and over as I thought about both the friend who had just passed, and the friend that we had lost years back.
With that the throttle seemed to want to go just a little faster, I seemed to be willing to push the limits just a little more, and it seemed like I had them right beside me riding for that ride into work, which had me feeling really good... up until I walked into the office and the adrenaline buzz wore off and I realized I was back in the office and not on the beach.
I typically lock down pretty hard at these times and try to deal with everything myself. But I had met this amazing blonde the week before, she was gorgeous, smart, funny, and just seemed to have this zest for life. We clicked instantaneously, had so much in common, and went on a great date. I thought this had potential for a pretty wild ride, and more importantly a good friendship that could lead to who knows what. I decided to reach out to her while I was feeling low and see if she wanted to hang out to get my spirits back up. Well I was getting no response and starting to feel more like shit as I wallowed in my depression. I finally spoke to her briefly but she was rushing to get out of the convo, and the more I learn the more it seemed that she had another man on her mind.
As if I hadn't had enough to deal with, now I'm thinking of songs left unwritten from the beautiful moments we could have shared, and seeing that all flush down the toilet to add to the depression from the Dewey come down and loss of a friend.
It was a rough week for sure. I didn't bother telling anyone at work about either of the other depressing factors, I just let them assume it was all part of the Dewey come down, as I really didn't want to be in any conversations about it.
I faked my way through the week in many ways. Pretending to care about the really insignificant conversations that occurred at work and at home. Faking my way though looking like I cared about work, or anything that was going on outside, when really all my focus was on the depressing items, and the mess inside my head that resulted.
I was heading to the funeral home Thursday night. I decided to ride the motorcycle again, and just like before it just made everything feel just a little better. Made me feel more alive and less numb. I was feeling good by the time I hit the funeral home, I hd my nephew and his wife meet me out front so I didn't have to walk through alone, knowing they would know more people there than me. As I made my way through the hallways, I saw just as many people laughing and joking as there were crying, and I thought of how much that said about the person that was gone, and he was so able to bring smiles to their faces in life, that that was even able to carry on at his own funeral.
I managed to not tear up until I got casket side and had to go through the hugs and handshakes. Then I couldn't really hold back anymore. I gave my hugs to the family, and said my goodbye to my friend, went and tried to console some friends who were there, and then headed back to the mororcylce.
I fell asleep early that night, I kinda felt a peace around me that is kinda hard to explain. But the depression seemed to lift, and I seemed to feel less numb and more alive. Of course Friday morning starts a whole different story...
