Remember Me When the Ink Fades

Maybe it’s the writer in me that is always coming up with the scenes in my head that look like scenes from movies I might have seen before, but I don’t think of it as a bad thing. They might come in handy one day when I need a visual image.

One that sticks out the most is the opening scene to a movie about me. You see, life in itself a huge movie that we’re constantly writing the script for someone else to read one day. The writers of the world have the major advantage because we’re actually keeping notes.

My movie opens up like this…

The sky is mostly clear with the presence of several puffy clouds trying desperately to climb higher but to no avail.

On a paved road, in between two fields of freshly plowed land, drives a black, sports-car with the top down. The leather interior is completely untouched by age. The two-seat car has room for the driver, a young man with black hair, sunglasses to hide his deep brown eyes, casually dressed, with a smile on his face as if he’s driving towards a destination he’s been waiting to get to his whole life.

And in the passenger seat is a leather bound notebook. It’s the only companion he’s taken with him that has never left his side and was always willing to hear his side of the story at a moment’s notice.

In front of them, the road is leading straight to a major city. Skyscrapers are few, highways are clearly visible, and it’s free of memories he’d rather leave behind.

The driver reaches to the center of the dash and clicks on the radio and it begins to play “Forever Young” by Rod Stewart. He takes one look over to the book on his right, then to the road in front of him. A grin crosses his face as the camera leaves him and watches the car drive off in the direction of the city.

The song continues to play and the title “As He Once Wrote” appears on the screen.

You can use your imagination as who you could see playing me. I haven’t really gotten that far in my fantasy. Besides, I’m only 24. I’ve not written anything worth while that people would actually remember me for. And even if I had, it would still be one short script.

I’m pretty sure it’s healthy to imaging myself being a great writer one day. I’m sure that even if I don’t make millions of dollars, which writer’s usually never do, I will have gotten the one thing that every writer wants. Immortality. The ability to transcend generation after generation. When the story we tell is just as powerful or as meaningful as the day it was published and read for the very first time.

Even if I write a horrible story, I want to write the most horrible story that was ever written. Why? Because you will still be speaking my name long after I’m gone as the example of how not to write a book. It doesn’t matter if the book was any good, the point is to never be forgotten.

Maybe that’s what I’ve been trying to do all my life. I’ve met people from all over the world and have made friends in all corners of the globe thanks to the Internet. Most of those people know that I write. Whether they think I’m a good or great writer is still up to them but they know that much about me. Perhaps it’s my talent that is asking that I don’t let myself go to waste by not using it to create something that will leave my mark on the world? It’s the essence of every writer to write something great. Great enough that he’ll get his name noticed just once and that would be sufficient for him. But that’s not what I want for me.

I want my writings to make people stop and wonder. Wonder if how they always thought of something is the way they should keep thinking about it after they’ve read the words I’ve written. Where I can challenge the thoughts of millions and reach those would would say, “Archangel wrote ‘(insert future quoted text here)’ and now people stop and wonder if that’s the way things should be.”

THAT’S WHAT I WANT! I said to myself a long time ago that I wasn’t going to do this for the money. While money can buy me the things that I need and the short term wants, it will never fill the void in my soul that needs to be place by the thing that I feel I need to do with this life. My very existence needs to be validated by someone other than those who can physically see me or talk to me. I need the validation from the people who haven’t met me but have read my works. My soul cries out for them to read the words I pen and remember who it was that wrote them.

Money will never buy my destiny.

It all started with a notebook...

Wow... How strange it is to be writing a blog all over again. I used to have a blog over at myspace, but somehow the glitz and glamour of the whole "myspace era" has finally ended for me. Maybe it had something to do with some of the people I know on their or maybe I just finally grew up. While I'm not saying that older people who use myspace are acting anything but their age, I am saying that the fad is finally dying.

I guess I should introduce myself the proper way. My name is Archangel. Yes, I know that sounds strange for a person to be calling himself something of an angelic nature, but if it was completely strange then we wouldn't name our own children "Angel" and then later realize they are nothing of the sort. Trust me, I've known a few children who's name should have been Demon Spawn.
The name has lingered for a few years. No, Archangel is not my real name, but I think there is a certain anonymity that has to be left when you write things or talk to people on the Internet. I guess it just adds to the wonder of it all. The chance of becoming something that you're not and the chance of meeting people who are not like you or anyone you know.
There lies the real power. Being able to be who we are or say who we want to be. We take a chance everytime we meet someone new on these things called blogs or chatrooms. We take a risk knowing that the person on the other end of the message box might not be the person that we think they are. However, we trust them enough that we talk to them and know that at anytime we're not comfortable with the conversation, we can block them from our messengers or just leave the chatroom altogether.
But what if, there was that one person in some part of the world whom we talked to and felt for some unknown reason they were who they say they were? That somehow it just felt so right to talk to them and let them know everything about you and have them give you their opinion about your life's problems.
I know what you're probably thinking. It's stupid to think that the person on the otherside cares and you should never let someone know everything about you. You're half right. You should never tell anyone where they can find you, or give out your phone numbers or any private information that only important people should know. The stranger you're talking to on the Internet is not important. But if we didn't reviel certain things about ourselves, how would we know we were different? How would we bond with each other? How would we make friends?

"Ok, Archangel, get to the point". The point is that not everything is as it seems. If we don't take that chance to find things that we didn't know existed, find people that we don't know are living, then we are doomed to die without being known. The worst feeling you will have in your life is knowing that you will die alone if you don't talk to people or make amends with the people that you hurt. I know first hand about everything that I speak of when I talk about this. I've had friendships that lasted for years with people far from me who were very much different then me and then I soon learned that they weren't. Part of the reason this blog has started is because those friendships are now over. The only thing that gets me by now is the fact that I eventually got to see who I was talking to the whole time. I waited six years for that moment in December and even though I will never get that chance again, I will take with me the memory of the day I took a chance. I took the chance to meet people from a place I didn't know existed. I found in me the strength to let go of my prejudice for people I didn't understand and those whom I scared of. I took a chance and I changed my life.

If you want to know how real I actually am, then the only thing stopping you from messaging me is you. I'm always waiting....

Until next time.