Dancing With Masks

Humans are very funny creatures. For some reason, we think that for every wrong we've suffered
against us that we must repay likewise in return and then everything will be fine. What we don't
realize is that is the biggest lie we tell ourselves. We hear all the time about "an eye for a eye" and
"don't cross me or there'll be hell to pay." All are versions of the same lie. When we feel pain then we
want someone else to feel it too. Pain is not always being stabbed or closing the door on your hand.
Those things are painful but, most of the time, physical pain is only 20% of it. The rest is the pain we
feel on the inside. The lies we tell ourselves everyday....that we're ugly or that no one wants us.
We tear ourselves up more so here than anywhere else. The next few parts of this story should be evidence of the fact that our greatest enemy is always ourselves.

Needless to say, I was a very heartbroken person. I didn't trust women. I didn't trust men. I closed
myself off to everyone and everything. I moved in with my cousin Josh, and his roommate, Mike
on Kinkeade Avenue in Fort Smith....right next to the college. Telling you about my cousin could
take half a book, so due to the love I have for you all, I will spare you that tale and instead go for
the abbreviated version. He married Lacy, had Madison, then got divorced. At this time, he was seeing Rebecca (whom he would later marry and have Katheryn...then divorced and married again to
Stephanie who had 2 kids of her own....then they had another kid together named Peyton. So, that's
like five kids to take care of and he is always broke). His mother, Tanya (my aunt), kicked him out
of her house and so we were all bunched together.....three single guys right by the campus. Need I
say more? :P

Well, I was a very mad young man and, alcohol was the last thing I needed, so naturally that's the
first thing that I wanted. The other great lie that we tell ourselves is that alcohol can take away our
pains but they come back as soon as the sun comes up. It's only a mask and one could just as soon
pick up one and set down another like changing your clothes. I had been a speaker, a comedian,
a singer, a preacher and a dozen other things. Why not be a drunk for a while?

We also decided to form a rock n' roll band. We named ourselves the River Valley Madmen and
I, once again, played the frontman singing lead and playing the electric guitar, the harmonica,
and the tamberine. I was and still am a HUGE Doors fan so I wanted to be like Jim Morrison. That
was one of our big influences. I did most of the songwriting. I wrote about many things like breaking
away from the pack and doing your own thing. Some of my favorite ones are Oklahoma Highway
Patrol (a real story about when I was given a drunk driving exam by an officer on the side of a long
stretch of empty flat highway), Amish Beauty Queen (a girl I liked that didn't like me back. She
liked some guy with a motorcycle), and Let Me Be Me (about my mother always trying to rule my
life because I wasn't what she expected). We played around the area and on Garrison Avenue where
all the indie bands played right on the riverfront in Fort Smith. I still go there during the season to
hear all the new tunes and catch up with old friends.

The more we played the more I drank. There is something so electric about playing in front of people
and being on stage where people watch your every move. You can almost feel them wanting you to
make them yell and give them excitement. For a moment in time, we feel like you can do anything.
I can see how people get so addicted to that feeling. All of a sudden, you're cool and can do no
wrong. You just have to make them feel good for a short time and then they love you for it. They
throw stuff at you like you're some kind of gladiator or celebrity. I got caught up in that and all the
surroundings that came with it. I drank so much that one night I left the house and went to El Chico's
and that is about as much as I can remember about that night. Later, much later....I was told that
I had made it to Biology class and fell out of my seat. When the teacher came to check on me, I
reportedly said, "I'm just floating in the breeze." I was sent to the hospital to make sure I wasn't
going to get alcohol poisoning.

I wish I could say that was the only little mishap but that would be a lie. I once woke up in an old
gymnasium on campus with an enormous container (like the kind they pour shots with in the bars....
yes, it was THAT big) of whiskey and a piece of insulation from the broken down building they
were renovating. People were playing basketball and I just walked past them on my way out. I'm
sure they were like who is he? I even spent the night in the drunk tank one lonely Saturday night.
Thank goodness I was the only one in there! I didn't sleep the whole night and if someone was to
be put in there with me and they asked what I'm in for....I swore I was going to say for shooting
someone so they'd leave me alone. I was too stupid to realize that they only put drunk idiots in
the drunk tank but I had my plan worked out just in case. I don't know why they put pockets
in jumpsuits because they don't let you keep anything once you're in jail. They even took my
shoelaces so that I wouldn't try to hang myself. I didn't need that. I was more scared of what my
mother would do to me once she came to bail me out.....IF she came to bail me out (She did the
next morning). I didn't get a pillow or a blanket like the other people in the rooms next to me. It
was just me in a horribly ugly orange jumpsuit and concrete all around me. I think I may have passed
out a time or two but, for the most part, I just sat there looking at the door. Every time I saw a
shadow or heard a door, I would think that my parents had come to get me but they didn't. And on
top of it all, this lady in the room next to me was coughing ALL NIGHT LONG! I just wanted to
go over there and put a sock in her mouth. She had to get her mat moved or she needed a drink of
water....GOODNESS! SHUT UP!. LOL! I'm like quit complaining. I didn't even have a mat and
I was so thirsty and you didn't hear me complaining. Jesus lady! (I was slightly stressed but still
maintained by sense of humor) :)

The point I'm trying to make is that I was in a lot of pain and didn't have a way to properly deal with
it. I didn't have anyone I could talk to about it so I just grew more and more angry at myself, at
Jennifer, at her father, at God and everyone. It hurt the most when I would see another couple having so much fun and enjoying each other. I grew bitter and jaded. I wanted to somehow show people that
that they were wrong about me and I was wasn't a mistake. I wanted to prove to them how wrong
they were. So, other than music or alcohol...I devoted myself to martial arts. Now, as a child, I had
taken Tae Kwon Do until reaching a Green Belt. During college, I would stop by the Buddhist
monastery north of Fort Smith and studied Southern Praying Mantis and, my favorite at the time,
Shaolin Ch'an gung fu. There were so many forms and stances, staffs and beatings. I thought it
felt good to be sore and have that outward pain, I figured it may finally match what was happening
inside or, at least, make me forget it for while. It did make me flexible and strong mentally and
physically. Every beating from the teachers and every morning afterwards would become a badge
of honor and courage...just like the Aiel in the Wheel of Time. Without these moments in my life,
I'd never have become Thorkin. I refused to let them see me break. No matter how hard they pushed
me, I wanted more. I asked for  more lessons and stayed over the regular time. I wanted to be the
best. However strong the other people in the class were, I wanted to be stronger. I wanted to punch
harder and I wanted to last longer. They all had a floormat but I refused one. I just was being a
difficult person. I wanted to show them I was better. At least, I mistakely thought so. I was still
hollow inside and nothing could quench that fire.

The one bright thing was that I tried Kendo during this time. The first time I felt a katana, I took a
deep breath. From the moment I held it...it seemed like it was always a part of me. It didn't just
swing through the air....it sang on the wind. I loved how it whooshed when I drew it. Was it possible
to fall in love with a sword? I sure thought so. It was just so natural as I moved around sparring
with the other kendokas. I had the same mentality in that I wanted to be the best. I didn't care
about points or making all the targeted strikes. I wanted to drive them from the space. I cut myself
so many times practising on my own late at night when my roommates where asleep. I would sneak
out into the backyard (what little backyard we had) and I danced. I danced with all these imaginary
foes into the wee hours of the night. The part I loved the most was when the other guys would
bring their girlfriends to class with them. I put on my Men and it was like flipping a switch. I was
not myself. I was a warrior....a faceless warrior with a shintai and a point to prove. I could feel his
nervousness due to her being there. It was always the same. They wanted to impress their girlfriend
so that made them desperate. I had nothing.....not even a floormat. I had no one to impress. I was
better than them...and they knew it. I enjoyed hearing that familiar snap and that quick suck of wind
as he would try to inhale after I struck him again and again....and then I got to watch as his eyes
would look towards his girlfriend as if to apologize. I wanted to show him up in front of her. I had
so much hate inside me. I hated the fact that they didn't work as hard as me but still had a girlfriend.
I hated hearing them argue everyday about who had the hottest girlfriend or how much they spent
on her. I hated watching them kiss and take pictures while I sat quietly in the corner in my place
focused and seathing with anger and hurt. I pretty much hated everything especially myself.

Unfortunately, the story only gets worse before it gets better. More to come soon!

-Thork