The Other Side of "Whatever Happened To...?"

"It seems like forever ago."

You don't know me. Well, actually, you do. You know my name, but by now that's pretty much it. But you know what Shakespeare said...maybe...about a rose by any other name smelling as sweet. Yeah? Well, a name's not much to go by anymore. If it ever really was.

Looking back on it, I miss the days when you could've just said "That's Jake Terrace," and that would've been enough. My résumé of reckless rebellion would've come with just my name. But those days, the wild, blurry punk-rocker dream days, they're gone now. You've probably smoked or shitfaced them all out of your head, expect for maybe the big ones. The moments that became legends, the stories we could tell over and over, even years later, and still get a kick out of.

So, to recap, you don't know me. Why? Well, 'cause the Jake Terrace that you knew back in high school, well, he's dead now. No, not like that night in Junior year when I crashed Wiley's shitty car over the bridge and everyone thought I had died. I mean I've changed. You have, too, I'm sure. Maybe you can't see it, what, with all those thrift store clothes you still buy and the studs and the dyed, gelled, and spiked hair, but it's true. And I don't mean to sound like an ass. I'm sure you're still a diehard believer in the Anarchist Manifesto -- remember when we came up with that? -- and I'm sure you've never sold out to the mainstream machine, but the fact is people aren't constants. We're shifting creatures, in concept and habit. What we always thought we'd be like tomorrow seemed so foolish at the time, but the same is true the other way around.

Look back. It's harder now, isn't it? Things get fuzzy. People you once held dear are now, well, now they're just memories half-etched on your brain. Some of them are gone, off to college, off to raise a family. A few were lucky enough to follow their dreams. Some died, lived too fast and went down in a blaze of what we like to call "glory" because it hurts too much to call it for what it really was. Others, well, they never left this piece of shit town. And time has crawled into them and laid its eggs.

We thought we were free from it when we were young, not because we believed in immortality, but because it was so goddamn hard to see the future when it felt like it was never really coming. Day after day, year after year, life went by and we grew up but barely knew it because our little worlds stayed so simple and empty.

Some of us could feel it and see the quickly descending whatever. Not a darkness, just a great, endless blah. A comfortable, homegrown apathy. And those ones, they fought harder.

Like me. Like you, too, probably. You can't ever really tell who's aware and who's not. Sometimes people can surprise you. One thing I've learned is that you can't be a slave to the stereotypes.

Yeah, that's right, even to the ones about all those people we despised so much before. It's been my experience that, a lot of the time, the people who are the most scared of life are the ones who lead the cliques. It's instinct to hide amongst the pack, it's escapism. Importance is put on all the shit that doesn't matter at all because the things that do, well, they're too much to handle.

Say what you want. Tell me I've given up the fight, the life, that I've sold out, thrown in the towel. It doesn't matter anymore. It's all just an illusion, anyway. You think punk music and frayed jeans and pissing off townie cops is gonna save you? You think this is what life's all about? Well, I got news, man. It's not.

So, then. You wanna know where I've been, what I've done, why I seem like such a prick now? You say "man, he's really changed" like it's a bad thing. But all I'm trying to do is grow. This faux-teen angst is stagnant. You can't be complete if you never go down any other roads. Go ahead and go to the same shitty rock shows, have your same pointless parties, it's not like it's my life. I'm just trying to tell you that if you don't open your eyes and maybe take a step out of this stone fortress you've built, you'll never find what you've been looking for all this time.

I've heard a lot of different things about me since I've come back. Plenty of people who hate my guts over things that happened way too long ago to still bitch about have spread shit around. I'm sure you've heard all the rumors. That I ran off to keep some drug dealer fucks off my ass. That I knocked some girl up. How many names have you heard? I've got at least half a dozen. Oh, and how about that one about me being a closet homosexual and moving out west with some secret boy-toy? What, some gay guy leaves town the same time as I do and suddenly we're lovers? Man, does shit get outta hand here.

But, here's the thing. It doesn't matter where I've been or what I've done. I left, I saw things, things happened to me, and now I'm here and I'm not the same "Jake Off" I used to be.

Sidewalk Prince. Punk 'n' Pop Rocks Kid. Yeah, well, that was me. Hey, don't forget, I didn't think of 'em, they were put on me. But it's not me now. And why I'm here now is simple. I just wanted to see you all again. It's been, what? Six years? Fuck, that's a lifetime, man. I can't believe how old I feel nowadays, and me still in my twenties.

Life given me a beating, that's for sure. But it's good that that happened. Because the person I am now, well, I've never felt so good about it. So, believe me, I'm not here for any grandiose reason. And I'm not here to change your life. I just want to see some old friends, see the old sights, reminisce over some cups of Joe at the old truck stop we always went to, that you probably still go to. Consider it something like a last rite. 'Cause, man, who knows? Once I'm gone, you might never see me again.

So, come on, I don't wanna fight with you about this shit, about all those years ago or about who I was and am. Let's just be who we are right now and try to figure out why we just can't bring ourselves to grow apart completely. And after all that's done, let's see if maybe we can't pretend we know where we're going.