10.24.01

I was raised about seven miles outside of a small, rural town amid the corn and soybean fields of central Illinois. Although I have a sister, she’s eight years older than I am, so for almost half my life at home I was essentially an only child. Not only did I not have anyone to bicker over the remote with, but the closest kid to me was at least three miles away. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in isolation until I was sixteen and got my license. During those first sixteen years, I had to entertain myself most of the time. Mom and my sister would do a lot of things with me, but more often than not, I was figuring out something to keep me busy.

I read a lot of books on dinosaurs, outer space, animals, and Star Wars and listened to a lot of records, especially those records that read-along with a book (turn the page when you hear R2-D2 make this sound…). Of course I played with all of my Star Wars guys, Transformers, Matchbox cars, and the myriad of toys I had at my disposal.

I also drew…a lot. I had these little cassette tapes that, apparently I’m the only kid in the world who owned them because no one has any clue what I’m talking about when I bring them up, were called “Little Thinker”. Little Thinker was the coolest thing ever! It told a story, I remember the dinosaur and outer space one’s especially, that would describe a plot for you scene by scene and then give you time to draw a picture based on those descriptions. To this day I can still vaguely remember the plot to the dinosaur tape.

We were one of the first people I knew to have a VCR – a Betamax – and cityfolk family members would tape movies for me off their cable TV so I could watch them. I don’t seem to recall having Snow White or Dumbo on beta; no, I watched Watership Down, possibly one of the most disturbing (and best) cartoons ever produced for kids, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (I honestly couldn’t tell you how many times I watched that movie. Thank God I didn’t turn out to be a Trekkie because of this early exposure), The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai Across the Eighth Dimension (horrible, horrible 80’s B-movie that I’ll be picking up the day it comes out on DVD), Animalypics (a sort of Wild World of Sports where all the athletes were animals. It was trippy) and countless others. I even watched documentaries on films that people would tape for me. I can remember specific scenes from a making-of Return of the Jedi and if you ever rent the Dark Crystal DVD (which I highly recommend you do), I had the making-of documentary that’s on that disc on Beta and watched the shit out of it.

And, as with most kids of the 1980’s when the business world finally realized that the youth market was a totally untapped, unexploited audience, I watched every cartoon and television show that was even remotely aimed at me. G.I. Joe, Transformers, Masters of the Universe, Silver Hawks, Kidd Video, 21 Jumpstreet, Punky Brewster, ALF, Married with Children, the list goes on and on and on and on.

Besides all of these distractions, I did a lot of writing – wrote, typed, and illustrated a short story when I was in second grade called “Johnny the Dinosaur” (can you tell I had a thing for dinosaurs?) – numerous little art projects with the adult supervision of my Mom, Sister, Aunt or Grandma (Shrinky Dinks RULED!), and imagined myself on the cold, barren wastelands of Hoth when I played outside in the winter snow (I lay face down in the snow, reaching out to an unseen entity saying “Obi-Wan!…….Obi-Wan, helllllp!”)

The isolation I experienced, especially as a young child, has a lot to do with person I am today. As you might have noticed from some of my entries, I still do a lot of reading, writing, some artwork, and watch a ton of movies. But I also seem to have no problem being alone.

I go to movies by myself; I’ll even go to bars alone, bringing a notebook with to get some writing done. This summer I went to museums, restaurants, into the city, all kinds of stuff without anyone tagging along. Personally, I think it’s good to be able to do stuff on your own, but at the same time - am I too self-reliant?

I don’t need anyone to do my laundry for me. I can cook my own meals. I can dust if I absolutely have to. I can program the VCR and take out the garbage. Really, I don’t need anyone to take care of me. It seems like that would be a good thing, but sometimes I wonder if it’s one factor in my perpetual bachelorhood.

Do I push women away because I figure I can take care of myself? I know I have a few friends who would say right off the bat “Yes, you do.” Well, maybe that’s the problem and maybe it’s not. Maybe I just can’t seem to find anyone that I mesh with, ya know? These people would give me the old bullshit of “Well, that’s because you’re not looking”. But again - if I can take care of myself, why should I look? I’m not lonely.

I don’t sit in the theater on Friday night and wish that I had someone sitting by me. (In fact, I like to use both armrests, so that would just be an annoyance.) I don’t sit around and sulk that it’s Saturday night and I’m sitting in a jazz bar writing my observations of people around me in a little notebook; that’s what I like to do. Now, granted, if there were a woman in the picture, I’d sure as hell go out with her instead, but I’m not getting all depressed that I’m home alone.

Why is it that to be happy, you’re supposed to get married, have kids, work a shitty nine-to-five job, and lose yourself in the conformity of the suburbs by the time you’re thirty? And if you don’t do this, there’s something wrong with you.

I’m sorry I don’t rely on other people to supply my self-image. I’m sorry I don’t need someone to do my laundry or empty the dishwasher. I’m sorry I don’t need to have a date to enjoy the symphony. But again - is this such a bad thing?

Maybe the reason the divorce rate is so high in this country is because people latch on to one another too easily. Maybe we could use a little more self-reliance in this world. Maybe I and others like me are the strong and the married twenty-somethings are the weak.

Then again, Aristotle once told his prodigy Socrates that the best thing to do in life is to get married; if you don’t, you’ll become a bitter, old philosopher. Crap. It’s too late for me. Save yourselves!

Space Monkey X