People ask me, “So your crew was called PK? What does PK stand for?”
This is what I tell them:
PK isn’t a yes or no question. You can’t listen to PK. It isn’t an ice cream flavor or a Christmas present. It can’t get stuck to the bottom of your shoe. PK is a philosophy; a way of life. I guess at its basic level it is merely an association, but the idea of PK is far greater than a simple group of friends. Let me start at the beginning...
Most people find it very difficult to move or switch schools. It’s tough to create new bonds and friendships from scratch. When I was 14, I moved into a new house and enrolled in a new school. Having to create new relationships wasn’t easy. The first year was the toughest. For the first three months I was an outsider. It felt as though I was incapable of making new friends, like something was wrong with me. I became depressed and questioned many areas of my life. At that point, one of the lowest in my life, I came upon an answer. I decided that I didn’t want to be depressed anymore. That’s when I developed PK. At that point, PK was a personal goal. I was going to move my way up the social ladder, make my way to the top.
Three years later, PK had evolved. Now it was more complex than the personal goal I set it out to be. It had transformed into a group of teenagers with a title. PK had become a type of humor and a care-free attitude. It was now a football game and a Friday night. At the parties we would chant, “PK!” People talked about us and whispered in the hallways. PK represented something I couldn’t grasp at the time. I thought it was just my crew and what we did on the weekends. It turned out to be something far more important to me.
Soon time had passed, as it always does, and I moved again. I found myself in the same place I was just five years before. I had to start over, create new relationships, and find new friends. Although I felt the depression of starting all over sink in all around me, I had something I could hold on to. I had PK, and it was my childhood. I had the memories of what had happened and how it changed me. Now I look to the future with confidence. I can set out a new goal, a new PK. So, what is PK you ask? Well it’s not an ice cream flavor, a fire truck, or the Sunday paper; PK is a way of life.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Friday, November 14, 2008
The Impossible Question
People always seem to ask me the same impossible question and I never quite know what to say. I stand there, usually standing, and stare at them with what has been described as "puzzled" or "blank." People usually give up at this point and walk away, remaining complete strangers, never understanding the truth. But on rare occasions someone will relish in my inability to answer this impossible question and instantly befriend me. I usually collect these rare moments and store them in a small wooden box I've had since I was four. The difficult part about all this is that I can never seem to find this box when I need it.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Why Don't I Buy a Dog?
The meaning of life. Where are we?
Am I alive just to be alive? I need to find purpose or meaning. Do I believe in destiny? I believe that if your car gets towed your car was going to get towed. I don't bother myself worrying about the inevitable. What is wrong with floating? If life is a stream, then what is the end goal; what is at the end when the stream spills out? What is the ocean? Our safety net. As the standard of living goes up, the need for religious belief will decline. We will create our own utopia. Death is the end. Nothing past the finish line. Give it all now, give everything you've got. Now is the time to be alive. Address your priorities. Enjoy the water because water is beautiful and swimming is beautiful and being alive is beautiful.
What do I live for? I play the cards because they were in front of me. I don't play because I'm told to play. I don't play because I seek some reward at the end, if there is an end or a reward. I don't play for others. I play because when I opened my eyes I saw cards and the game was poker and if I have cards in front of me I'm going to play them. I don't need any other reason.
Life is beautiful.
Am I alive just to be alive? I need to find purpose or meaning. Do I believe in destiny? I believe that if your car gets towed your car was going to get towed. I don't bother myself worrying about the inevitable. What is wrong with floating? If life is a stream, then what is the end goal; what is at the end when the stream spills out? What is the ocean? Our safety net. As the standard of living goes up, the need for religious belief will decline. We will create our own utopia. Death is the end. Nothing past the finish line. Give it all now, give everything you've got. Now is the time to be alive. Address your priorities. Enjoy the water because water is beautiful and swimming is beautiful and being alive is beautiful.
What do I live for? I play the cards because they were in front of me. I don't play because I'm told to play. I don't play because I seek some reward at the end, if there is an end or a reward. I don't play for others. I play because when I opened my eyes I saw cards and the game was poker and if I have cards in front of me I'm going to play them. I don't need any other reason.
Life is beautiful.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Update
I won't be finishing chapter 3 for some time, so if you happen to be waiting, you might be waiting quite a bit longer. Thanks for reading my stuff.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Chapter One - Yoon
If you felt compelled to ask someone about Yoon, and if by the off chance they knew who she was, they'd tell you she was just about the shyest girl ever to walk the earth. Those few who talked to Yoon would tell you it was probably just a phase, something she'd grow out of. They had been saying that for about eighteen years.
Yoon wasn't one to complain about her shyness, but people were always telling Yoon what she needed to do. "You need to talk more,” her sister would say, but Yoon didn’t feel much like talking. "Or make more friends," her brother told her, but Yoon rather liked being alone."Or at least get a boyfriend.” Her mother said that one quite often.
Yoon always listened politely, but never cared much for what any of them had to say. The only thing she really cared about was being happy, and the one thing that made her happiest was the old Polaroid instant camera her granfather had left her before he passed away. She loved to walk around and snap shots of little things that grabbed her attention, such as an old couple holding hands in a diner, or a small bird playing with a squirell in the park. Then, once the picture had developed, she would fold it into a small origami-like shape and leave it on the ground for someone else to find. Mostly no one found these oddly-shaped treasures, with the exception of a janitor who had found one only as means to remove some gum that had crawled onto the bottom of his shoe. Later that day, having completely forgotten the incident with the gum, the janitor won 86.3 million dollars.
This was, of course, just a coincidence.
On another completely different day, seemingly no different than any other, Yoon was on her way to school when she noticed something odd. As she came upon her usual bus stop, she stopped suddenly as her eyes caught the sight of a nice old lady sitting on a bench. The lady seemed to be half sleeping over what appeared to be a magazine about knitting socks. Apparently there was some new method of sock knitting that allowed double-triangle knit patterns to be sewed in half the time of normal double-triangle knit patterns; it had become all the rage in these sock knitting magazines. Although efficient and ingenious this new method was, it wasn't what had caught Yoon's attention on that cold Monday morning. What surprised her was the nice old lady sitting on her bench.
Yoon had been traveling to this bus stop for over three years and had not once come upon a single person sitting there on that bench. In fact, she had specifically chosen this bus stop because between the hours of eight and nine, she could be completely alone. It was one of the few precious moments in the day when nobody would bother Yoon to tell her what she needed to do.
Yoon sighed and crossed the street.
It wasn't clear what Yoon should do next. Sitting next to people made her rather uncomfortable, but the only other place to sit was on a curb that had big bold black letters on them stating "PLEASE DO NOT SIT ON THIS CURB. THANK YOU." Although a bit distracted to wonder why there had been big bold black letters telling her not to sit on a curb, she reluctantly moved to take a seat
There was little room for Yoon, but she managed to squeeze onto the very edge of the bench, just a few inches away from falling right off. She considered standing until the bus came, but hadn't realized how long of a walk it had been and suddenly thought how nice it felt to be sitting down. So instead Yoon remained there, listening to the old lady snore rather loudly, when it occurred to her what a great morning it was for taking pictures. She pulled out her Polaroid camera and glanced from shop to shop, looking for something that was worth capturing in time.
And that's when it happened. That's when Yoon happened to notice a particular phrase that would change her life forever. Of course you wouldn't think the phrase itself was immediately consequential by any means, and in no way did the words stick out in a way that would suggest to anyone their life was about to change, but nonetheless Yoon's life was about to take a wild turn. These simple, seven-strung together words, whose only meaning up to that point had been to sell washing machines at discounted prices, would now become a part of the single most important picture Yoon would ever take.
Yoon, not knowing how exceptional the picture would prove to be, snapped the photo, made it into a small intricate shape and set it down on the curb, where quite unexpectedly, it disappeared.
“That was strange.”
Then, also unexpectedly, so did Yoon.
If you felt compelled to ask someone about Yoon, and if by the off chance they knew who she was, they'd tell you she was just about the shyest girl ever to walk the earth. Those few who talked to Yoon would tell you it was probably just a phase, something she'd grow out of. They had been saying that for about eighteen years.
Yoon wasn't one to complain about her shyness, but people were always telling Yoon what she needed to do. "You need to talk more,” her sister would say, but Yoon didn’t feel much like talking. "Or make more friends," her brother told her, but Yoon rather liked being alone."Or at least get a boyfriend.” Her mother said that one quite often.
Yoon always listened politely, but never cared much for what any of them had to say. The only thing she really cared about was being happy, and the one thing that made her happiest was the old Polaroid instant camera her granfather had left her before he passed away. She loved to walk around and snap shots of little things that grabbed her attention, such as an old couple holding hands in a diner, or a small bird playing with a squirell in the park. Then, once the picture had developed, she would fold it into a small origami-like shape and leave it on the ground for someone else to find. Mostly no one found these oddly-shaped treasures, with the exception of a janitor who had found one only as means to remove some gum that had crawled onto the bottom of his shoe. Later that day, having completely forgotten the incident with the gum, the janitor won 86.3 million dollars.
This was, of course, just a coincidence.
On another completely different day, seemingly no different than any other, Yoon was on her way to school when she noticed something odd. As she came upon her usual bus stop, she stopped suddenly as her eyes caught the sight of a nice old lady sitting on a bench. The lady seemed to be half sleeping over what appeared to be a magazine about knitting socks. Apparently there was some new method of sock knitting that allowed double-triangle knit patterns to be sewed in half the time of normal double-triangle knit patterns; it had become all the rage in these sock knitting magazines. Although efficient and ingenious this new method was, it wasn't what had caught Yoon's attention on that cold Monday morning. What surprised her was the nice old lady sitting on her bench.
Yoon had been traveling to this bus stop for over three years and had not once come upon a single person sitting there on that bench. In fact, she had specifically chosen this bus stop because between the hours of eight and nine, she could be completely alone. It was one of the few precious moments in the day when nobody would bother Yoon to tell her what she needed to do.
Yoon sighed and crossed the street.
It wasn't clear what Yoon should do next. Sitting next to people made her rather uncomfortable, but the only other place to sit was on a curb that had big bold black letters on them stating "PLEASE DO NOT SIT ON THIS CURB. THANK YOU." Although a bit distracted to wonder why there had been big bold black letters telling her not to sit on a curb, she reluctantly moved to take a seat
There was little room for Yoon, but she managed to squeeze onto the very edge of the bench, just a few inches away from falling right off. She considered standing until the bus came, but hadn't realized how long of a walk it had been and suddenly thought how nice it felt to be sitting down. So instead Yoon remained there, listening to the old lady snore rather loudly, when it occurred to her what a great morning it was for taking pictures. She pulled out her Polaroid camera and glanced from shop to shop, looking for something that was worth capturing in time.
And that's when it happened. That's when Yoon happened to notice a particular phrase that would change her life forever. Of course you wouldn't think the phrase itself was immediately consequential by any means, and in no way did the words stick out in a way that would suggest to anyone their life was about to change, but nonetheless Yoon's life was about to take a wild turn. These simple, seven-strung together words, whose only meaning up to that point had been to sell washing machines at discounted prices, would now become a part of the single most important picture Yoon would ever take.
Yoon, not knowing how exceptional the picture would prove to be, snapped the photo, made it into a small intricate shape and set it down on the curb, where quite unexpectedly, it disappeared.
“That was strange.”
Then, also unexpectedly, so did Yoon.
Chapter Two - Michael Green
"These are perfect!"
The two large round half-globes of tinted glass fixed in with the worn brown leather straps were exactly what he was looking for. Michael Green was glad he had skipped out on his sister's birthday party. Michael's sister had habit of annoying the hell out of him whenever she gathered around with her popular cheerleader friends and dropped the word "like" about as often as she opened her mouth. Michael didn't care to stick around to hear about "how much John totally liked Stacy, and like, how he was totally wrong for her, and like, how Stacy could do so much better." He was just glad to get out of the house with his sanity intact.
He had no idea these goggles were waiting for him as he hopped the back gate and took off to the thrift store on his skateboard. He was searching through some random boxes filled with old clothes when he found the old leather-strapped goggles, and suddenly he felt a pinch of destiny. He didn't know why, but at that exact moment he knew those goggles were put on this earth for Michael Green.
He pulled the leather straps around his head and fit them into place. They sat loose on his almond-shaped head. He pulled them off and gave them a second look-over. They were a bit dirty, and the leather showed signs of tearing, but they were exactly what Michael needed to finish off the style he was going for. He didn't care if people thought him strange for wearing goggles on his head. In fact he didn't really care much about what people thought of him at all. He enjoyed doing his own thing.
"I think those are perfect for you."
Michael was startled by the gentle voice that came over his shoulder. He tucked his goggles under his arm defensively and turned to see the bright pretty face of a girl smiling back at him. For a moment he stood there staring into the girl's eyes. They disarmed his protective hold over the goggles and he felt his arms fall loose to his sides. Her eyes were dark brown and held an enchantment over him. Suddenly he realized he was staring at her.
"Huh?"
She giggled. He was aiming for something a little more charming, or even something along the lines of "thanks," but for some reason whole words failed him. As she giggled, she reached over and grabbed the goggles from his hand. Her fingers grazed the side of his and suddenly he caught himself blushing.
"I mean thanks," he finally let out. He wasn't usually this timid around girls. He actually prided himself on being confident with most girls, but right now he could barely control the blood from rushing to his cheeks.
"It's almost like they were made just for you," she said studying the worn leather straps. He was suddenly aware of how naked he felt without them. He quickly snatched them from her hands and stuck them in his pocket.
"That's exactly how I felt when I saw them," he told her. He felt silly for snatching them out of her hands, but she didn't seem to notice. She just stared at him and smiled.
"Usually thrift store employees don't go through this effort just to sell some goggles," he said awkwardly. He had been searching for money in his back pocket and finally found a twenty dollar bill. He held it out in front of him.
"I'll take them. How much are they?"
"I don't know," she said, still smiling at him.
"Okay. So they're free then?" he asked.
"Maybe. You might want to ask someone who works here. I bet they could tell you."
She moved close to him, and he thought for a moment she might be going for the goggles again, but she reached across him into a box, removing a small book he couldn’t see the title of, and stood there browsing through the pages, no longer paying attention to him or the goggles.
"Sorry, I thought you worked here," he said feeling stupid.
If she heard him she didn’t show any sign of it, and now Michael was starting to feel like he overstayed his welcome. As he turned to leave, she grabbed him by the arm.
"I think we should go get a cup of coffee together and talk about those goggles."
"Um, sure!" he said surprised. He had never met a girl who had asked him out like that. In fact, he couldn't remember ever being asked out by a girl before, at least not one as pretty as...
"I'm Yoon by the way."
“Yoon,” he said to himself, revealing a smile.
"I'm Michael."
"These are perfect!"
The two large round half-globes of tinted glass fixed in with the worn brown leather straps were exactly what he was looking for. Michael Green was glad he had skipped out on his sister's birthday party. Michael's sister had habit of annoying the hell out of him whenever she gathered around with her popular cheerleader friends and dropped the word "like" about as often as she opened her mouth. Michael didn't care to stick around to hear about "how much John totally liked Stacy, and like, how he was totally wrong for her, and like, how Stacy could do so much better." He was just glad to get out of the house with his sanity intact.
He had no idea these goggles were waiting for him as he hopped the back gate and took off to the thrift store on his skateboard. He was searching through some random boxes filled with old clothes when he found the old leather-strapped goggles, and suddenly he felt a pinch of destiny. He didn't know why, but at that exact moment he knew those goggles were put on this earth for Michael Green.
He pulled the leather straps around his head and fit them into place. They sat loose on his almond-shaped head. He pulled them off and gave them a second look-over. They were a bit dirty, and the leather showed signs of tearing, but they were exactly what Michael needed to finish off the style he was going for. He didn't care if people thought him strange for wearing goggles on his head. In fact he didn't really care much about what people thought of him at all. He enjoyed doing his own thing.
"I think those are perfect for you."
Michael was startled by the gentle voice that came over his shoulder. He tucked his goggles under his arm defensively and turned to see the bright pretty face of a girl smiling back at him. For a moment he stood there staring into the girl's eyes. They disarmed his protective hold over the goggles and he felt his arms fall loose to his sides. Her eyes were dark brown and held an enchantment over him. Suddenly he realized he was staring at her.
"Huh?"
She giggled. He was aiming for something a little more charming, or even something along the lines of "thanks," but for some reason whole words failed him. As she giggled, she reached over and grabbed the goggles from his hand. Her fingers grazed the side of his and suddenly he caught himself blushing.
"I mean thanks," he finally let out. He wasn't usually this timid around girls. He actually prided himself on being confident with most girls, but right now he could barely control the blood from rushing to his cheeks.
"It's almost like they were made just for you," she said studying the worn leather straps. He was suddenly aware of how naked he felt without them. He quickly snatched them from her hands and stuck them in his pocket.
"That's exactly how I felt when I saw them," he told her. He felt silly for snatching them out of her hands, but she didn't seem to notice. She just stared at him and smiled.
"Usually thrift store employees don't go through this effort just to sell some goggles," he said awkwardly. He had been searching for money in his back pocket and finally found a twenty dollar bill. He held it out in front of him.
"I'll take them. How much are they?"
"I don't know," she said, still smiling at him.
"Okay. So they're free then?" he asked.
"Maybe. You might want to ask someone who works here. I bet they could tell you."
She moved close to him, and he thought for a moment she might be going for the goggles again, but she reached across him into a box, removing a small book he couldn’t see the title of, and stood there browsing through the pages, no longer paying attention to him or the goggles.
"Sorry, I thought you worked here," he said feeling stupid.
If she heard him she didn’t show any sign of it, and now Michael was starting to feel like he overstayed his welcome. As he turned to leave, she grabbed him by the arm.
"I think we should go get a cup of coffee together and talk about those goggles."
"Um, sure!" he said surprised. He had never met a girl who had asked him out like that. In fact, he couldn't remember ever being asked out by a girl before, at least not one as pretty as...
"I'm Yoon by the way."
“Yoon,” he said to himself, revealing a smile.
"I'm Michael."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)