"What's it like to sit on a swing for two weeks? I'm not sure I can really say. It all seems like a dream now. The events of the days and nights, whether big or insignificant, all seem to run together like watercolors on a wet canvas. Each day seemed the same, yet in its own way each day was very different. Every few days the park seemed to change and look different. The wind blew from a different direction. The people looked different. Even I felt different. Only one thing remained the same: that constant back and forth, back and forth, back and forth motion that soon became a habit. A way of life. The only thing in the world that was real…"
I wrote the above shortly after the end of the saga, and it's as true today as it was then. When you're trapped in a device and your entire world shrinks to about twelve square feet (no, I'm not going to bother with that pesky 3rd dimension - you know what I mean) your outlook on your place within it and that of those around you changes drastically. Adapting to strange, new and sometimes unexpected circumstances was the only way to survive and stay sane. Well, as sane as one can be while doing a pretty insane thing.
Shortly into the wee hours of the endeavor I met my first two enemies. They were named Cold and Damp. Here I am warding them off the next morning with three sweaters, a knit hat, jeans and a blanket. I guessed this was what it felt like to swing in the 1800's wearing big dresses and petticoats, but obviously I'm pretty comfortable with it. Note the crossed feet. All I needed was a footstool and an endtable.
Pretty early on I also met my first new friends. They were named Policemen and Reporters. They would visit every day, not always in conjunction with Cold and Damp, but nevertheless they cheered me up despite Cold and Damp's attempts to depress me into giving up. It's fun having people interested in what you're doing, and I could not have imagined the attention with which I was about to be showered. Pretty heady stuff for a kid who turns fifteen today.
Oh yes, did I mention I spent my 15th birthday on a swing? Yeah. That's a party you don't get to throw every day. Just be careful you don't drop the cake!
"That whole afternoon now seems like a blurred mixture of strawberry bubblegum, cramped legs and warm sun. It felt like an all-day picnic, with aunts, uncles, cousins and friends there constantly."
Or so I wrote in my little memoirs. Ah, the simple things. They were about to change forever.