The Soundtrack of One Life out of 108 Billion, Entry 8: "All By Myself" by Eric Carmen and "Over & Over" by Fleetwood Mac

Something happened in eighth grade.  I'm not sure what or why.  It wasn't all good.  It wasn't all bad.  But I was somehow sucked from a primarily external world into a primarily internal world--from doing to observing.  I noticed deeply the world around--the lights, the shadows, the stark winter light on blue boned trees.  Everything gained a richness, a complexity, a texture I'd never noticed, never knew.  It was quite startling.  I didn't know how to react.  I didn't know if anyone else experienced this new world.  I felt awkward, a bit like an alien.

Although in many ways I was less mature than other kids my age, definitely more socially awkward, in some ways I all of the sudden was an old soul.   I understood the adult world more than my own.  In music, I was drawn to songs with adult themes, like Eric Carmen's "All By Myself".

Outwardly, I still tried to be the kid I knew how to be, but it didn't work.  I felt fake, and I think I seemed fake to others.  All of the sudden, everything was hard.  And yet, there was a clarity, a complexity I saw in life that thrilled me.

I was interested in layers.  In the natural world, I loved the layers of leaves along the canyon bottom at Dry Creek--how on the top layer they'd be crisp and crunchy; and in the layer below, the leaves would be soft and partially eaten with little squares nibbled out between the fibers; and finally, the later below them would be leaf-skeletons among potato bugs.  Below that would be rich, black dirt.

In music, I liked layers also.  Fleetwood Mac's Tusk album had that.  "Over and Over" had the complexity in sound and lyrics I was looking for.

A richness, a Rembrandt brown in tones, an uncertain hope in the lyrics--hoping something might be, but knowing it just as likely might not be.  Hoping, yearning, over and over.

I don't know what caused it.  I loved a girl, but I'd loved her since fifth grade.

No dramatic event happened in my life.

My family was good, stable.

It's almost as if I was invaded by a knowledge unwarranted.

That person who moved in during 8th Grade has been who I've remained the rest of my life.  I haven't necessarily done much with him other than that I've become a little more comfortable letting the world know it's alright to see shadows in the rain.

But I live in a complex world, a world hope and broken dreams, of love and heartache.  Not because that is my reality necessarily.  But because I see the shadow lives around me--those pretending because not pretending is too damn scary.  Because of this, I don't have a lot of tolerance for those who have no empathy.

But, I'm not sure they can help it.  I too once lived in a world without shadows.  I'm glad that for whatever reason, complexity was thrust upon me.  It's not necessarily an ingredient for success, but it is an ingredient for humanity.