Sometimes, it’s hard to explain my choices. Especially some of the bad ones I made when I
was young. I suppose that I can write
them off as the folly of youth but I have to wonder why it was important to me
to commit such folly in the first place.
For instance, once when I was in junior high school, I chose
to walk through the Battery Street Tunnel.
The same tunnel, relatively new at the time, that was constructed to
serve all of the north-south highway traffic through Seattle and it offered no
provision for foot traffic. For some
reason it seemed like a good thing to do.
At the time I sat third-chair French Horn for the semi-talented
All City Orchestra which was mostly composed of young nerds who were accepting
of their social limitations and resulting societal roles. Homey didn’t play that, though, and I
struggled to ignore my own limitations and chafed against the norms assigned by
my relationship with that Horn in F. I
wanted to be cool and be identified as such so I rationalize that some of my
poor choices were the result of trying to set myself apart from reality in the
eyes of my very critical peers.