In these last two hours, I have been reading upon the past particles of my memoirs with pride. Procrastination might have held me up from the purpose of chronology, but in retrospect, my literature has come a long way from those simple days in 1996.
They have almost taken on an enigmatic approach to literal significance, and at its best, these words in their riddles do phrase their meanings aright.
How I have, with verse, undone the world’s injustice, and justly so, in my world, lost or not as serves in this beguiled enterprise.
Finding ‘The Lost Years’ Era Book Markers
When curiosity did beset me, I searched for the birth of the penned phrase the lost years, when its loyalty was administered, and when the words ‘lost’ and ‘years’ were used in conjunction in my memoirs.
The conception, as I uncovered, oddly began to explain the photo albums that detailed my life with Lyssa Spencer.
As it turns out, the lost years was originally penned from the first picture I ever took of Lyssa, and then the last pictures of our one-year anniversary – which marked our time together. However, there are earlier signs of dabbling with the word ‘lost’ a few days beforehand.
There is a strong connection between the title and the day it was announced, being September 1st 1998. This was the day where I spoke to Jewell Pressley over the phone, whilst cunningly planning to send her the Sonnet and CD.
Initially when I breezed through past entries I was reluctant to read a few lines. I thought it would be boring and lackluster. The first paragraph I read seemed confused, fueling my convergence to that point.
To the credit of my memoirs though, it only took me another paragraph to become hooked. For the next two hours I flicked through words associated with the lost years and became immersed.
Recalling The Twists Of The Lost Years Book
The weaving of words left me mesmerized. Now I know that the deliverance of these days far outweighs the simplicity of the initial year leading to and part of the lost years.
Littered in all this meaning was another surety that Jewell was going out with someone when she came over my house in September of 1998. I am thankful that the literal content was satisfying and the description was just as fulfilling.
From those words and our actions that night that Jewell came over my house, I noticed a distinct reluctance to cross that line. When I rested my lips on Jewell’s forehead, I sensed her shy away in an uncharacteristic way. I remember even now how it was an airy compunction. Furthermore, I was more convinced that Jewell had a boyfriend when her brother arrived to pick her up.
Giving Jewell a hug in my room, when I called her again for one last hug before she opened my front door, she acted like she didn’t hear me. This apprehension is now an obvious sign that Jewell didn’t want her brother to see us hugging, with those hapless eyes of mine so trodden in their mindless glance at the wall.
No, Jewell didn’t want her brother to see, and I can bet that her brother nor anyone else had any idea that she was heading to my house.
The Mystery Of Jewell
Later, when we had our telephone conversation, some words that I wrote stuck with me. I wrote of how Jewell had all the opportunity in the world to kiss me and she said something like, “I could have but if I did then it wouldn’t have been because I needed to, but because I missed you.”
Back then, it riddled my mind, but now I understand that Jewell didn’t need to kiss me because she had a boyfriend.
She also noted how she would regret it in some years. Now I can shed light on the confusion of her words.
The Issue Of Bad Conscience In Relationships
If this is true and Jewell was going out with the African guy, then sadly, I lowered Jewell to my pitiful levels. Jewell never cheated on her boyfriend like I, in theory, never cheated on Lyssa. Nevertheless, we were both equally as forsaken with fantasy. As I paid my price, I hope Jewell never has to face the same dilemma of conscience.
Jewell being in a relationship would explain how she got defensive and seemingly hostile at the end of our surreal relationship. It would explain the backlash I received when shamelessly using the word ‘love’ to explain partially my feelings for her. It would explain an array of confusion centered on those days of September 1998, in Jewell’s one-month old relationship.
The Lost Years Encapsulates Two Loves
The lost years fully ripened, however into its respective title when I published the Sonnet of the same name in mid-September 1998.
So, in a short space of time – and no longer than a fortnight – I changed my mind from the lost years only involving the year with Lyssa to a more memorial span of those now celebrated two years.
Those were two virtuous years. I only wish the renaissance of my literature was there to capture the raw energy of those momentous years. Nevertheless, as I matured through the relationship, thoughts matured, and it does serve as a reminder of progress, from a paranoid privacy to an emotional man.
Adjusting To Light Blue Bedroom Wallpaper
Before I sleep this morning and awake for a vigorous attempt at belated chronology, allow me to make mention of today’s gratifying tranquility.
After getting to sleep at 4:30 am that Tuesday morning, I ended up waking at around 1:30 pm. Apart from the computer scare I received that early afternoon and my only venture outside of the house to visit Bradbury shops, it was a quiet day.
The light blue in my room was a beautiful color. If my curtains weren’t yellow enough, now their yellowness is accentuated. It almost looks surreal in contrast with my curtains, wardrobe, speakers and bed, which are all a yellowish brown kind of color. However, when I purchase some new darker toned blue curtains and this door of mine gets painted a darker brown, it should level out nicely.
After thirty years or stale wallpaper, I finally have some fresh walls to look at.
Most of the contents earlier in my room have found their way back in, and the waterbed has been shabbily filled with the water still being too cold to sleep on. It feels like I have a heap more room considering the chairs haven’t been placed back into my room with the stack of FHM magazines piled up.
In addition, the posters, those guns and the surround sound speaker holders have all been taken off the walls permanently. It might be a while before I replace some of those posters, but it feels cool with these bare walls for now.
How To Plug In A Computer Monitor
The big dilemma this morning that made me skip a beat was when I had carried my computer hardware back downstairs from my old room, where they saw no comfortable work done. Unplugging the monitor’s two ports, I successfully plugged one monitor back in, but the second connection was proving difficult.
When I took a closer look at the little pin connectors on the monitor, one of the pins was bent out of shape and almost touching another on the same line. Concerned, I whipped out the end of a ballpoint pen’s top and tried to push it back into a straight line. This worked but it seemed pointless trying to plug the cord into the hard-drive.
Turning on the computer with the connection half plugged in, I panicked when I heard the hard-drive sound an alarm. Beeping a couple of times in distress, I turned off the computer because it was obvious the monitor had some sort of problem.
Taking one last stab at the problem and straightening out the pins, I tried turning the connection around and putting it in upside down. Well, to my embarrassment and relief, it ended up being the right way around.
Luckily I didn’t create any permanent damage to the monitor when I tried ramming the pins into the wrong destinations.
Working On The Memoir
Anyway, as I turned on my computer, I kept it on for the remainder of the night, but I quickly grew bored with it.
I had something to eat from upstairs and then a shower afterwards, in which I had to turn the boiler’s hot water tap on.
While my parents were busy painting all the doorways and frames outside my room, I started to type for an hour or two in my memoirs. When I started to get bored, there was the idea of traveling into the city seeking to exchange three movies, but I handled myself into submission.
Bradbury Shops To Return Rental Games
Some television and more food later, I visited Bradbury shops to return my rented computer game.
I was going to visit the Chinese Food Store but the lineup was huge and I couldn’t be bothered sticking around. Instead, I bought a drink of ‘Red Bull’ and then a greasy corn roll from the fish and chip shop, before I was back on my way home.
Recreation And Memoir Work
For the initial few hours I watched television and had my dinner of fish to eat.
In the latter few hours I began plotting in my memoirs. Since then, I haven’t looked back. That has been the whole extent of my memoirs for those hours of Tuesday.
Now as the time is 3:44 am, I shall look for my bed.
I’m not necessarily tired in the creativity of these nocturnal hours, but I will try and get some decent sleep so that I can wake up before midday tomorrow.
It will probably be at least until next week when I visit some temping agencies in the city and make an effort to look for work, but knowing me, I’ll probably put it off for a while.
Diary Of A Mad Chaos is a daily diary written from March 1996 until 2018, of which individual books and book series have been created, namely “The Lost Years” an exploration of young, entwined love, the “Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘)” book series which provides an extensive comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies, and the book titled “Foreigner (华人)” an exploration of race relations in Australia.