How Will You Make History and Be Remembered?

Once upon a time, back in the coldest part of November, a bunch of decades passed, I came into this world, not by choice, but in purpose. I was whisked away to a small Northern town where I grew up as an alien amongst my peers. I guess it used to bug me when I was little but I never felt like had anything in common with many of them. My motivation was to learn and create, I didn’t spend my time at bush parties, I was drunk on who I was becoming.

As soon as I finished college the first time, I moved to the Quebec side of Ottawa, Gatineau, and maintained some sort of rebellious life, at the ripe age of 18. In less than a year, I had packed up and moved to Vancouver, where I stayed for years. This is where Amber Long met Amber Long. It wasn’t in what I did for work nor the people I associated with that made me who I am, so much. It was the time alone I spent in my head, on the other side of the country, away from everything I had ever known. While staying in the most Western part of Canada, I made a commitment to myself to always be true to myself, because in the end, it was only me who had to answer to me.

Now, back in Ontario, 14 years later, a happily divorced mother or two, I’m still being true to myself. I fell into the trap of a young marriage because that is how I thought life was supposed to go. It’s truly amazing how naive we all are, at every age of our lives. I had kids young and gave them my youth. Now, the three of us co-conspire on how we will make it through this next decade, remaining the free spirits we all are.

How will I make history and be remembered? I suppose this is a relative question. I’m confident that those who have been a part of my life have taken something from who I am and applied it into their own lives, in positive ways. I feel like I’m just another human walking this earth, waiting to be buried after I pay all my taxes, only to have my life summed up in the dash between my birth date and my death date on my gravestone. The difference is that I remain ambiguous to the traditional rules of society and my goals are not those of the masses.

Love, to me, should be a partnership, a friendship, two people working as a team to reach common goals, in more joy than pain. Work, to me, should be something one loves to do, so as to make a real impact in the world, since we have to spend the majority of our lives working. A hobby should be your emotional bomb shelter, keeping us sane and balanced. Those you surround yourself with, well, the faces will change as our vision changes, although it’s important to carry with you the most special of all your encounters, for all eternity. Maybe, as far as my interpersonal relationships, I may be remembered as a social flutterby, in appearance, but those who know me best know my battle with social anxieties. I am a superior actress, as the world is my stage.

As for my contribution to this world as we know it? First off, my children are the most phenomenal examples of bringing light into this world. I’m fortunate that they are happy, healthy and so very brilliant. I am confident that they will move on to do great things in their lives due to their sweet nature and tenacity. It may not be a way for me to be remembered as much as my donation to this Universe. Next, I suppose my artistic endeavors will precede my corporal life. My music may be played for years to come, I’m glad I chose my words carefully. My paintings may hang in hundreds of homes, I’m so glad I added glitter. My book will be on the coffee tables of many, flirting with the minds of their visitors. I’ve only just begun putting my art out into the Universe. It’s always been in me but only recently did it occur to me that it IS me too. To be able to create the art I do, it has to be part of who I am.

I’m sure there will be those out there that remember my negative traits too. My low tolerance for bullsh*t, my absolute INTOLERANCE to lies, the way I can flip my switch in one second and denounce someone, for what seems to be forever, over one transgression. My inability to associate with those who complain or ‘talk the talk’ without walking the walk. I carry an air about me that parades as an elitist attitude, although, it’s not that at all. It’s high-count moral fiber and the older I get, the stronger it becomes. If I’m halfway done living my life, at the age of 35, then why would I bother wasting my time associating with train-wrecks or those who’ll just bring me down? Everyone gets their chances, everyone is treated fairly, I will not be held back by the sluggish or manipulative. I’d rather spend my days alone that with morally piss-poor people.

What does this have to do with technology or history? I’m just one ‘hard-wired digi-bitch’, trying to make my analog mark in this world. I’m a shell, holding in electrical impulses that could likely power a huge city. I am a piece of technology, an individual interface that creates magic and wonderment. I’m a VST you can upload into your life and take whatever sounds you want from. I’m a fortress of thoughts, actions and reactions, some good, some not so good. When I leave this world, people may only really know who I am by dissecting my computer contents and interrogating the man I love. My closest friends will miss my random texts and my enemies won’t rest any easier, knowing I’m gone. I have no fear that I’m leaving footprints in the concrete sidewalk of life. Some steps have been taken with more confidence but all in all, at least I’m leaving a visible path, denoting my adventures here on this earth.

It’s a good life. I’m having a great time. Maybe I’ll just be remembered for that, living and loving fully. That’s perfect.

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