One of these days, I'll realize that SOME people DO actually change.

While I was home for the weekend, the news came in that a classmate from highschool died on Friday. Apparently it was an OD. He was in and out of rehab, trying to get himself out of the cycle, but relapsed. The wake was today, and dad and his girlfriend were there, because in a small town, everybody knows everybody, particularly when the guy's father is the proprietor of one of the garages.

On my way to the (kickass) Shout Out Out Out Out show tonight, dad called me to tell me that the father told him that shortly before he passed, the classmate was asking about me.

I'm feeling very numb about this, because I don't look back fondly on most of my highschool experience. I was picked on pretty much right up to the end, which soured me on the instigators as well as the people who encouraged them by laughing. The classmate was a cool enough guy in smaller groups, but we really didn't hang out in the same circles. I remember that he always had a smile when we passed in the hall or on the street, and after highschool, we'd chat a little whenever I would bring one of my cars in (I owned three from age 17 to 22 (not all at once)) to his dad's garage, but one of his friends who also worked there (and was rumoured to have various drug problems) was always a jerk, and I think made him feel pressured to not be too nice to me, or something.

But this phone call I got. I almost didn't answer it, because of the stupid pay as you go shit. It cut me deep. To hear that someone who I considered a passing acquaintance was asking about me shortly before he died...

I really don't know how to feel.

But I think I'll use this as my inspiration to push myself into an apprenticeship. In case you didn't notice, I like cars. A lot. I also like working with my hands. I've always wanted to work on cars. I tried it once and was at a point in my life where I was too easily discouraged.

I'm going to figure out some way to do this.

This is for you, Sean.