Okay, so the gap of time between writing 9 and 10 was... 9 ish months?? I stopped writing them for a while. But I started writing his story again. Because two important events came up that inspired me; my visit home, and Homecoming at my school.

Drumbeat Shorts X - A Single Notebook

It had been too long.

It was September, about nine months since I last accounted a Drumbeat story. I had been to see it multiple times in between, but each time I was reminded of that empty patch of grass next to me, and I chose not to write about it. I never figured that that's why the Drumbeat had stopped again.

But of course, I didn't exactly expect to find it beneath the soccer and sports hills of Minnesota.

Even if that happened once before.

We went to Minnesota for Labor Day weekend, to see friends of course, and on Saturday night me and a few others went to where my family used to live. We turn and take the road, stopping to see the house we used to own. As we slowed down to look at it, for a second there was a silence. A silence that I would experience again in several minutes.

A local park was nearby so we stopped to have fun. Like kids, a play system sat at the center, and we ran for it straight away. I watched them and as my mind wandered, I noticed there was a completely empty field just beyond some trees. I immediately wonder what might happen if I walk over there. It was sudden, it was irrational, but I wanted to go see if it might be there. As the others got caught up in their hilarity, I slipped away and ran for the field, expecting it to be like last time I was here, to have it not be there if I demand it to be.

I was caught by surprise.

Just a couple of beats sounded, but it immediately faded away after.

How did I do that? Why did I hear it again? It doesn't make any sense. I've consistently said that it's highly unlikely such a prominent force is physical. It's more likely metaphysical, a sound that's exaggerated by my own mind. Hearing it again in this situation confirmed my belief in that. It made me think of how much had happened, since I last heard it like that.

I've changed since I last wrote.

Maybe not much. But enough to the point where I've lost my pessimistic attitude most of the time.

This hasn't affected many of my actions, but it's a relief not to be living in such a bitter mind anymore. At least most of the time.

Hearing it again for just a few seconds reminded me of how fleeting that can be. I didn't run for it. I walked casually, trying to relax and call upon it again. Nothing came. Which I expected, but tried not to think that way. As I walked under the full moon, I thought as I do every time, that I wanted a someone to be there too. But I've grown more and more to appreciate things, even if other things aren't happenin' yet. My attitude has been better because of a couple consistent changes I made. For one, whenever something I didn't like happens, I instantly think to myself to not think so badly about it. Or I might remind myself somehow how fortunate I am.

But I think the biggest way is through a single notebook.

This notebook isn't a diary. It isn't a place I vent. No. It's a place where, if I was really with the one I want to be with, I can talk to them like I would. It's a way of saying all the things I would say if we were together. It's like the method of writing a letter and never sending it. So every couple days in this notebook, I basically write all the love things I want to say. It's a way of slowly breaking down my walls because it's almost like I'm practicing. It's a way to keep me going because I truly believe. And it's not that I can't say those things to them, it's just that by now, they don't want to hear them. So I write them in there. And I love it.

This single notebook has really made things a lot better.

My mind often wanders off to a day where I become accepted and hand it over to them.

But I think the lesson that it teaches is important, because it bothers me seeing more hate in the world than love. Perhaps the biggest reason I fell into a huge, deep rut before was because I knew that I was very fortunate. I knew that my opportunities were vast, and that I am whatever I wish to be. But that I failed to really take life by the horns. While this may still be the case, I've still gotten a lot more positive in my mindset.

I think that's the simplest thing that can be derived from it.

Live lightly.

You can hear and believe in whatever wisdom you read about, as strongly as ever, but it's often that you won't know what that wisdom is like until you learn it yourself.

And as I wandered the field looking for the Drumbeat I was reminded of this. And the most wonderful of all things, was that this Drumbeat came back its strongest when I started writing in the notebook. I started writing in the notebook the day before, and it came back to me once again after I started.

So I think its important to always write about them. To love and take it lightly. Because I now know that they have something to do with this cosmic music radiating from the Earth.

I hear them call my name. I go back and we all start a game of tag. After it begins, I run back to the field one more time. We would leave soon and I had to see if maybe it returned. Only for a second again, and I was totally okay with that. Perhaps the old me would have sulked about it, but I know that once I write in the notebook it can come back anywhere. And I have only them to thank.

The game ends. They call me name again, as they drive up in the car, me the deer in their headlights. I tell my friend I heard it again. The others ask what I meant. I explained it to them as they stared at me.

"The hell do you mean? I didn't hear anything..." one said.

That was really the first time anybody else had directly come to me while I listened to it. The result was that I was the only one whom heard it. Which further pushes the question of what exactly it is, if its partially physical or entirely made up in my own subconscious imagination. I just gave it a smile and thanked a somebody in my mind.

I grow more and more certain that they might be the only other person who might be able to hear it. If it even exists outside of my mind. I left the field as we got into the car, glancing back at the empty patch of grass next to mine.

I couldn't wait to get home so I could write them in the notebook about it.

Drumbeat Shorts XII - HOMECOMING

HOMECOMING.

It's a celebration of high school. A synthesis of souls. A cornerstone of how far you've come, and a look at how close you are to home. It's what you make it.

Kids I know often complain about it being super boring and a waste of money. And I see people who disagree often not being able to understand. It's all a mindset. I used to be one of the earlier, and now lean more to the latter, so I can understand where all of this is coming from.

Homecoming is like taking a good, long hard look in the mirror at yourself. What you take away from that night is whom you are from that night. It could be argued that the same is true of every day of a persons life, and this is true. But Homecoming is different. Not only because of romance involved, but because it's only once a year. And unlike everything else once a year, it's a social gathering where you do what you would anywhere else, and that's the point. It's what you do with it. It's if you can find your home at Homecoming.

But I have to be honest, I'm beginning to sound like a hypocrite.

The only reason I went to Homecoming was because a somebody was going to be there.

I had been writing in the notebook for a few weeks by then and it helped in some ways. Of course, there's just one problem I didn't mention before.

They're with somebody else now.

As I spiked my hair, looking at myself in the mirror, memories of the last two years flashed through my mind. Mostly recent events. I was originally told about this by them directly. While at first I took it pretty hard, soon after I learned that it's actually going to help in the long run. Despite whatever frustrations I might have had over the past two years, I knew that if high school relationships were no longer pointless to them, that there was now a bigger chance than before. And this isn't to say that I'm not happy that they're happy, because I am. In fact...

... for my birthday several weeks ago, my wish was for them, in short, to find true happiness beyond imagining. I've done this for many of my big wishes.

For many of my subsequent wishes, like tossing a coin or a shooting star and etc., I often wish I would be the one to fulfill that to the greatest. So I don't see this person they got with as an enemy, or an obstacle, or any of that ridiculousness.

Not that it wasn't a slap to the face. I mean it is frustrating after two years, believe me, I've had my moments. But in the end with my new state of mind, I always remember that things have gotten better if dating is no longer seen as pointless by them. And I'm very grateful. I'm very grateful for everything about them. I really can't thank them enough for everything.

And as I put the final touches on my hair, I check my computer one last time before I go.

Shoot. I was going to IM them just before but they had already left. I had thought multiple times about how this night would go down. I confessed how I really wanted it to go in the notebook, but I came down to reality and thought about what I could do. Because I knew that I wanted to say something, that I wanted to do something. I thought perhaps I could ask them to meet up before the dance, during, after. But I wasn't quite sure what I would say. Because as much as I'd like to not have to write in the notebook, they don't want to hear it from me. They want to hear it from the one they're with, and I didn't want to bother them. So it was tough for me to decide, but I was dedicated on saying something.

I don't meet up with friends before hand. I didn't ask. Nobody asked me either. Which is what I preferred, homecoming is a time for me when complete solitude or complete closeness are the only two options that I'll take. I learned that from experience.

At my first homecoming, I went with a group of friends. I did the same with Sophomore year. Both years, I wasn't forced to go outside of my comfort zone because I could always fall back to hangin' with them. Not this year. This year I was ready to put myself out there. Even if I wasn't sure what to say when I did.

I get there by the pool entrance. As I arrive at the homecoming entrance, I have two paths before me. To my right lay the entrance to what I hoped would be an awesome night. To the left, a long walkway leading down to the football stadium. My first thought was to consult the Drumbeat about this. I didn't even think about it, it had become pure instinct by now.

So there I walked, down past the river and into the woods on my left.

I took deep breaths and tried to harness whatever kind of force it was. Nothing came. I walked around for ten minutes as still, nothing came. I started cutting myself down, but stopped myself from it further. It was 8:20 by then. By now, I knew they were probably in there dancing away. Hopefully, as I told them to, be having the time of their life. The epitamy of the two biggest years of my life lie hundreds and hundreds of feet away in a neon filled dance room.

And there I stood, trying to hear a legendary drumbeat by pushing my ear against the ground. Which didn't work. Why wasn't it coming back? Was it because I was so nervous about saying something to them, that my negative energy blocked it out? I wasn't sure. But I was getting upset. I walked briskly to the football stadium.

The ambient lights of empty space spill down onto the parking lot from above. I arrive, the gates to the grassy area being unlocked. I walk out onto the football field.

Wow.

How many stories have happened here? That's one thing that never ceases to amaze me anywhere I go. I always picture people forming their lives here, memories written in stone. I try to grasp what happened here and am amazed constantly. How many laughs were had under that tree?? How many hearts were stolen away in the rush of a game? How many people changed here? How many stories were made, how many were told? How many lives were made on this field?

The artificial lights rain down upon me. The drumbeat still hasn't come.

I walk up onto the concrete bleachers. Pacing my way along. I watch my memories repeat themselves, as I trace the paths I walked every time the school had come here for a convocation. I smile. And shiver from the cold. To think of what happened here is just mind boggling. I can never get over it. My story, of which I have barely mentioned in this story, is only one of thousands. One of thousands that hopefully will not go unheard. But why, is my story so important? Does mine matter more than anyone else?

No, of course not. Some stories are heard because people listen. Others are invisible because nobody hears their dying whispers. To stand in a place where so many people were made is incredible. And it made me wonder further.

I had less than two years left of high school. How would my story end? Will people willingly listening, be waiting for how the end of my story came? The possibilities, as always remain endless. As endless as the place I stood in, what it must have meant to so many people.

But I'd prefer to have the ending where I find home.

This Homecoming was by no means the end to a story. My story, and all of yours, will never quite end. This Homecoming though, was a chance for me to push that plot further. To find home and go wherever it takes, wherever they take me. What happens after you walk off into the sunset?

I thought of this. I thought of this with romantic ties. I had it. I had an idea of what to say. Still, I retrace my steps along the bleachers. Eventually I find my way down to sit against a tree. Still no drumbeat comes. After sitting there and thinking things over until almost 9, I figure it was time to go find them.

I gain entrance into a dance of neon. It's just as I remembered it.Flashing lights, as a montage of students flow around the dance floor like a river. Some like chickens with their heads cut off. I manage to step safely around the chaos, making my way up the stairs to the eating and talking part of Homecoming.

I see them immediately.

My heart always stops when that happens. I wasn't sure what to say. Then I see their with friends. I decided, that now wasn't the best time. As much as I wanted to say something then, I'd rather they got some energy out first, had some fun. I thought to myself, that when I ran into them alone, that's when I'd do something. So I circle the dance a couple of times. Whenever I approached the dance floor again, I grew unevenly nervous.

Last year at my Sophomore Homecoming, at the end with all the slow songs, I caught them dancing with somebody else. And I let that ruin my night, because I know I immediately left after. This time I wanted to step closer, to see if hopefully it wasn't happening again. Each time I got a little closer, but I couldn't work up the courage to really find out. I turn around and walk back to the stairs. There I go.

And there they come.

My mind starts racing. I knew what I was gonna say in general. Now I just had to get to say it. Before I could, I waved. They wave back, nodding, continuing to walk the other way. I stop dead in my tracks.

Why did that just stop me?

My mind speeds up faster as I'm reminded of the way I've acted for the past year. The way for most of the last 12 months, I acted shamefully and alienated them further and further each time. I remember those old blog entries. I remember how I wallowed in self pity for much too long, and it was all still hurting today. I remember all this, and I remember how we used to talk as friends.

Last year at Homecoming, after I told them even, they still gotta big smile and gave a big hug. And that made my month. But now, even in just a single hi like that, I was reminded how far I wandered from home.

I hated myself for it.

My old mindset began to take over in that moment.

In a single thought, I left immediately. I couldn't go back into the dance. I was so upset that I didn't want to. I walked to the only place I knew would be empty.

I don't think it's being too sensitive though, or over dramatic. If I notice something like that I take it seriously. I'm not so fragile that a simple wave would destroy. It was everything over the past year I was trying to walk away from. I was begging for a clean slate, a new year and a stronger love. But it was clear that they didn't want any of it.

I walked down to the stadium. My eyes were getting red. I had to wipe my eyes a couple of times. Until I finally arrive back at the tree. It's freezing as nobody noticed I'm gone. My mind has already gone on autopilot. I let myself go for the next several minutes. The drumbeat still had not come. How could I let this get to me? But then I thought that sometimes, talking about it wasn't enough. That despite whatever mindset I had now, despite the notebook, that sometimes I would feel like this again. That I would have to fight myself every step of the way towards finding home. So I let it out.

I get up and wander up to where I sat during the convocation yesterday, the top inner corner. My mind is flooding. As I look back now I still can't comprehend the way time acted during this time. I bawl. Soon it's 10:40. I let my face dry for a couple minutes, to let the red go away. I begin to walk back. As I cross the street, I can hear a loud dance song pierce my ears. I picture them dancing. I picture how I could have been there if I didn't fail. Without even realizing or thinking about it, I yell, "SHUT UP ALREADY." into the empty air. I hold my mouth. Where did that come from? I left it up to that I was already very upset and not willing to take more. I'm walking towards the entrance as it ends. A slow dance song comes on. I picture them dancing with somebody else. Without even realize I was doing it, I'm muttering, "Stop it stop it stop is stop it stop it NOW," under my breath. I catch myself and take deep breaths. I had to retain myself. My ride was coming soon.

My mind was in so much of a flood I could barely process what happened that night. What part of my story was written, and how it would be only a page of libraries of Carmel High School's stories. I focused. I knew that I messed it up bad again. I was still trying to gain clarity, to get my mind straight as I waited for my ride.

But I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to.

I wouldn't be here if I didn't truly believe in what I stood for. Everything it still rushing through my head. I'm still not comfortable with myself. I am with them, but I constantly get in my own way. There's something about them that's hard to explain.

They force me to face everything I hate about myself.

I've found my home. Tonight was a setback that I wouldn't allow to happen again. I wouldn't let the setbacks of the past year affect me in a new year anymore. I learned my lesson. I know whom my home is. The only question is that, that plagues many stories: how do I get there?

Maybe I didn't find my way home this night. But there was always tomorrow. I will not lose faith because of a night on a dance floor. Homecoming was not my home. My home was in homecoming. My story is only one of billions. But if you're going to listen, may you find the home of your story too.

The Drumbeat never came that night.