Nostalgic Bike Rides

I pulled out my bike today. Didn't feel like driving a car around; some sort of mid-teens crisis, maybe. The last time I had ridden on that bike was probably April of sophomore year in high school. Over the last three and a half years, I think the possession of a car has accompanied a certain freedom and independence. It has also commemorated a divergence from certain people in my life; I've been able to travel farther.

In middle school, all of my friends HAD to be within about a two mile radius of my house. Otherwise, it was simply unfeasible to maintain a relationship with them; especially in the summer months. I loved summer in my early teen years. I would spend most mornings mowing my neighbors' lawns, then using the money to go down to the neighborhood CVS and buy some candy or pushups (those fucking awesome orange-flavored ice cream treats they always passed out at the last day of soccer games as kids). In the afternoons, I'd ride my bike over to Ben or Matt's house, wake them up, and head over to a nearby girl's place for the day. There was this girl I was convinced I was in love with. She introduced me to the song "Fix You" by Coldplay, and it instantly became my most-listened-to song on my iPod. The memory of her will forever be the summer afternoons I biked over to her house. Part of me still thinks I have feelings for her; that's the child in me, though.

I'm a much taller, stronger, wealthier person now than I was five years ago. Yet, emotionally, I don't think much has changed. Especially as I ride that bike around; nostalgia brings me back to the adolescent feelings I thought had been repressed. I'm glad I still have the memories.

Today was a good day. Reaffirmation that any part of my history can be resurrected through thoughts. I like that.

-Jack

move

There's not much here for me anymore. 

The floor of my room is scattered with clothes I don't wear; The glove compartment of my car serves as a lackluster photobook of faces I never see anymore.

I sometimes lie about having to work, because I'd rather stay at home and watch a movie; I don't want people to plead with me, because I can't say "no" as easily as I used to.

There's not really any love interests for me back home; only girls that I'm physically attracted to. 

There's a handful of kids whom I can't stand.

I've gotten through 5 ENTIRE TV series on Netflix since returning from school in May. I'm clearly bored.

I find myself clinging to a lot of vices; finding solace in a routine that I don't even find enjoyable. It's just... routine. 

I make too much music.

I officially have nine days left of residence in Eagan. Next summer I'll be staying up at school; hopefully getting an internship so I can do something FUCKING useful to give back to this annoying ass society. I keep lusting more and more independence in my life; I think that's a sign of some sort. I don't know, though.

I love words. It's cool... I started out this blogpost by looking at my empty laundry basket, and by the end of this post you're going to think I'm a cryptic, self-loathing douche. That's fine though, most of you are temporary. The good ones will stay; they know who they are.

Two years and nine months from now I will have graduated college. I will be packing up my car, and heading to California. If I have a friend in the passenger seat, that'd be dope. If I don't, that's alright. I'm gonna make something of my life. I'm pumped for that.

I will probably come back to Minnesota during Christmas time, spend it with my lovely mother and hopefully-less-anal dad. I love my family.

I think it's time to move on; I feel like Red at the end of Shawshank. Now go back and read this post in a Morgan Freeman voice.

-Jack

"Creative Rec" Prelude

Thomas Lake Mixtape was a flop. If you don't know what I'm talking about, that only validates my point.

After numerous recording equipment and morale issues, I had finally found resolve about a month ago. I drafted nine songs, found nine TREMENDOUS instrumentals, and mixed myself a new tape within three weeks. I'm really proud of "Creative Rec" for what it is; and I think you guys will find it palatable too. Here's the thing though...

When I dropped my first tape Senior Year of high school, I had ZERO expectations. The reaction to that tape eradicated any doubt that I had about my content matter, and lyricism. You guys showed me a massive amount of love and I was taken aback. I think a lot of people think this Modest-Jack thing is just a facade; it's truly not. I DON'T expect much. So to see that kind of acclaim for something that was a quasi-demo for me was awesome. Kinesis received love from those who heard it. How To Make it In America got up to number 2 Mixtape of it's release day on HotNewHipHop.com. Since then, I've felt a loss of interest amongst fans/listeners/critics. Everything has been really under the radar, which is OK with me, but I've made a lot of adjustment.

I've finally found my purpose with music. I don't wanna be the shit you listen to when you're getting shitfaced at some party; i'll save that for your other white rappers. I don't even wanna be seen as a rapper. I wanna make music; non-genre, non-label, non-race MUSIC. I want to be what you listen to the day after a party; when you're hungover and seeking solace. I want listeners to be able to empathize with words that I speak in the same way that they do with these blog posts. I put a lot of serious content in these songs on Creative Rec.

I want you guys to hear this tape

Til Thursday,

-Jack

My First Time Having Sex

It's about that time to migrate back to our schools. The weather's getting cooler, Target checkout lines are becoming more space, and leaves are slowly descending to the surface. At this point last year, I was neurotic. The concept of moving out of my folks' house had my anxiety through the roof, and thinking about leaving my group of friends was heart-wrenching. I think we, as humans, have this concept of a "home" being immobile. We think of the house we were raised in, the community that nurtured us, and the people whom we grew up with as a collective "home."

Home has become a synonym for our comfort box, though. How many people as children dreamt of being a child forever?! Never having to leave k-12 school, never having to  move out of our parents' house, and never having to assimilate into the real world? Sounds nice, huh? EVERYBODY has an aspiration. Even the burntest of the burnt dream of burning elsewhere, right? College is really, to me, just an intermediate level towards achieving what I want from life. Reality is, after the four years of college, if you STILL (miraculously) miss home, and think that there's nothing else in life to achieve then to stay at home, YOU have that right. Go back home. But, nobody should really fret the opportunity to go out and make something of their lives. I think we all gotta leave home, if for nothing else, then to just prove that we don't really want to leave home. Don't be scared of diverging from your friend group... you'll stay in touch with the ones that matter.

Some nights, I go out my window and sit on top of the slant in my roof. I hear the wind blowing through trees, as I inhale the other tree. It's a peaceful setting, but it prompts deep thoughts that are sometimes hard to deal with. I think being at home makes me too nostalgic. I look back on the past relationships, friendships, and connections I've had in this city. I miss people. I believe everyone who has entered my life has, in some way, affected me just a little bit; They've redirected me to where I'm at now as an individual. I'm thankful for all of the drama that I've non-willingly been thrust in to. I show gratitude towards the false rumors that circulate around my name. I love the negative attention I've received in my past, because it's molded me. It's helped me segregate faux from real.

Yesterday at work, I was approached at the cafe. A sweet, elder lady named "Shauna" sat down next to me and ate a meal with me. Our conversation delved in between depths, as she began to tell me about her son with addiction. I sympathized with her. She told me that I was "Her Guy," saying how out of all the people that we work with at Target, I've always been the sweetest to her. She said she could tell my parents raised me well, and that I oughtta thank them everyday for what they've done to make me the gentleman I am. I hugged her. I wish Shauna didn't have a biased opinion of me. I wish I could have told her about the times I've talked back to my dad, about my experiences with drugs and alcohol, but I couldn't. I let her believe that I was some sort of perfect human; it was nice to hear. I am a good-hearted kid, but I wonder if Shauna would think the same if she knew my past.

My Mom and Dad worry about me. Ever since we lost my 23-year old cousin last year to drug addiction, they keep a close eye on me. They know I drink, they know I've smoked. They trust me, but they don't trust the company I keep. I wish I could settle their nerves, but I know that if I was a parent, I'd feel the same. I didn't start telling my mom "i love you" until last August, when I went to college. I don't say it enough. I've recently realized how precious life is, and it's helped me adopt the mentality of "quality over quantity" in regards to the people I let in, and let stay in my life. My family is the best blessing I've been given. I have a brother who has bailed me out of so much trouble, a sister who is too shy to tell me she loves me but sends me food when I'm away at college. I have a mom who would do anything for her children, and a dad who has provided me with all the financial help I've ever wished for.

I try to take time out of my day and think about who I want to be. I see myself as a leader. I've saved a life. I don't have an ego, but I have become increasingly confident in the prospect that I can shape the world. My faith is at an all-time high. I know the future isn't promised. I don't take shit for granted. I appreciate all the unconditional love I've received from people whom I may not have given reciprocity. I will be better. I'm SO excited about life.

I guess, this has nothing to do with my first time having sex. But I'd like to see how many of you read this just because you would hear about my dick going in vagina.... hmm. Regardless, make time in your day to thank those who deserve it. Recognize the vital components in your life, and alleviate yourself from the negative factors. Refrain from recluse, decide the outcome of your story.

-Jack

Leagues

As kids that have been through high school, and experimented with early romance/relationships, we've ALMOST all got the "she/he is out of your league" speech before from one of our friends.

Bypassing the functionality of heuristics, people have established a "league" for us to classify with. Every once in a while you can dip above or below this league, but you are restricted to the belief that you're aspirations towards the other gender have limits.

I look back on some of the pretty girls I've been involved with in my life. The initial gratification from each of those relationships was the 'score.' The catch of getting a good-looking girl, and having your bros say "DAMN dude, she's hot." This was a naive incentive...

I think any girl who perceives an intangible 'league' with boundaries around them is a girl that is NOT worth pursuing. Being a heterosexual individual, I don't rate myself. For all I know, I'm a 1/10 on a given girl's scale... who am I to say I deserve a more attractive girl? That's stupid as hell. I think too many people have gotten by in life on the sole basis of their looks.

I've dealt with so many untrustworthy, self-interested, spiteful women in my life, that at this point in time i can HONESTLY say, I only like girls now based on their personalities. Obviously, I'm sexually attracted to a lot of women, but I am also very unattracted to a lot of those people based off their personalities (lack thereof). I just want a cute, music-loving girl I can kick it with. The type you can introduce to mom and pops, ya know?

Moral: stop acting like you're in a certain league, leave your possibilities open.

-Jack

Bird leaves Nest

I was pushing carts again today. Riveting as always... I'll skip the boring shit, and tell you about something kind of cool that I witnessed, instead.

I was headed back out of the building and towards the parking lot when I passed one of the giant red poles outside of the facade. Adjacent to this red post, where the bottom roof and the cement above the post meet, was a bird nest which I had noticed a couple months back. My introduction with this bird's nest was less than friendly, as I had to dodge the Mother Bird's disposal of shit plummeting towards my shoulder (true story). But over these last couple months, I've been able to see the eggs turn to little babies, who've then rented the nest to a new mother bird and a new set of blue eggs. Nature's cool, huh? (shout to Annalise Peck lol).

Today when I was walking past the post near the bird's nest, I saw a little girl (probably about 6 years old, cute little thing with glasses and a ponytail) point up at the nest and say "Daddy, look! Birdies!" I've heard this from many children over the past two months... it's usually followed by a non-chalant reply from their dad saying "that's cool sweetie" while they continue to move through the automatic doors and near the carts, not even glancing up at the nest. Today, though, the dad stopped, looked up at the nest, and said "Wow, sweetheart that is so cool! Let's take a picture!"

I don't know why, but that kind of struck a chord with me. My whole time growing up, I was given the "oh Jack, you'll understand when you're older" that I'm sure EVERY kid received on numerous occasions. Most of my drawings/essays were stored up in neat little manila folders which now reside in a quasi-receptacle in our basement storage room. We were always given the absent "that's cool" as children, and it just quickly becomes indoctrinated in our brains that adults DON'T GIVE A SHIT what you have to say. I think, to an extent, I still haven't escaped that ominous cloud.

My parents still look at me as an adolescent, and society still gives me less capacity for credibility. It's a struggle. As a parent, I'm gonna be more like that dad I saw today at Target. I'm gonna take the time to recognize the imagination of my kid, and I'm gonna commemorate their works. I think kids are some of the most adventurous and imaginative inhabitants of this world, and there's a lot that can be taken from what they have to say and from vicinities they've explored.

-Jack