Superior.
I walk into high school passing everybody without vexes. People say hello to me, i dont say hello to them. Maybe its just because im tall, but im higher up than the lowley freshman, no second guessing that. There are no other elements, just me. I am superior. Is that a good thing? I walk into a party, maybe with some friends, and its me/us and everyone else. We are to real life what plastics are to mean girls. We are bitches we do things we might regret but meeting new people is just too challenging, so why not just ignore people 'below us'. I sit down in class. Maybe say hi to some people. My social life is my prized possesion. I have the ascendancy over every other group this way. It keeps me from being vulnerable to riticule, i just do all the riticuling. So having all this control, what happens after high school? I guess i've always liked a challenge. Ill just have to rise to the top again. I wont sit around and be a loser thats for sure. Ill give you a hint, the people in your phone book are your bible. You get numbers and give your number out, show someone a good time once, your in. They'll be like oh yeah, that kid knows how to party, and we'll want you around. So first day of school next year, i just throw a party/mixer and i get to know everyone. Mission accomplished.
Hurdles.
Tuesday, December 19th 2006 aka tipsy Tuesday or in my case trashed Tuesday. Now for all of you that don’t know what hurdles are here’s a tale for you. If you take an ice tray and dispense vodka in every other cube spot, and then soda in the rest it makes for a moderately fun race. You take straws and race someone down each side of the tray. The words puke and rally have never meant so much to me. After doing about six hurtles and talking about how I wasn’t going to get that drunk or high I realized it was too late. Fun life lesson, drunkenness always seems to tiptoe up and pounce on me. One second you’re excellent and the next you’re chatting to a lamp and telling it how jealous you are because it’s so skinny. Yeah.
These Lyrics are both ironic and Amazing.
GYM CLASS HEROES LYRICS
"Faces In The Hall"
I knew this kid named Alberto. Funny style cat, And his girl looked like a turtle. Not Lisa Turtle, just a turtle. High school track, He ran the hurdle. His peers shed tears senior year when he got murdered. Now Alberto was your average A student. Participated in class, Never came late And never truant. His family was picture perfect. His older sister was prom queen. His dad a decorated vet from the Vietnam team. His mother was Dear Abby,An ordinary house wife. Like clockwork, always had dinner on the table at 5. But Alberto had a monster he kept under his bed. Instead of letting it out, He just got a girlfriend instead. She knew something was funny. She could tell by his behavior. Or the way he flamboyantly shook his hand When he would wave to her. She thought nothing of it. And just shoved it in the closet. Until the day that word dripped out like leaky faucet. Alberto was homosexual. I ain't have nothing against it, But little Ronnie Johnson and all his football player friends did. They'd always pick and nag, Call him "fag" and such and such. And couldn't wait to get to gym so they could really bust his nuts. The gym teacher never cared. He'd just join in on the action. He'd make silly gestures And compared him to Micheal Jackson. Alberto couldn't take it. He'd just stop showing up and whenever he walked them halls, He just felt like throwin' up. And night he would cry and cry and ask "God why?" Like "God, why the fuck'd I have to be born this way?" God would reply, "Son, you've gotta show 'em you're more than gay" Cause he had dreams to be a track star. Until that warm April night. Them gay jokes went way too far. Ronnie begged for his forgiveness And invited him to a party Cause his parents went away And left him plenty of Bacardi. Alberto kindly accepted. He was finally accepted. Except it was all deception. And left them all unprotected. It was a plan Ronnie had scammed To get him in the right place. Verbally degrade and rearrange his pretty face, The plan would go swiftly. They started calling him sissy. One punch turned into fifty. They beat him till he was dizzy. Now Alberto lie in blood While his peers look on in fear. He took his last breath. And passed away his senior year. Needless to say It was one big tragedy And how was Ronnie gonna explain to his family,While they were on vacation taking in sights He got wasted and killed a kid that night.
Don't be a slave and behave the way they do, Just utilize the gifts that God gave you.
I knew this girl named Maria Bright and talented With aspirations to be a Big superstar. What a great idea. Until she fell off and started to listening to her peers. Oh dear! Now Maria was your typical obnoxious Analytical head strong rebel Flippin' off the principal. Single mother home structure. She looked after baby brother. While mom worked two jobs Just to buy supper. Pops was a struggling musician. Troubled man, Juggling family and heroin addiction. He overdosed and left a notice of eviction And a crate of records on the table in the kitchen. And a little angel with a keen sense of sound Who saw silence in the records she found. And she would stay up late at night Reciting songs to herself Under pale moonlight. Righting wrongs that her pops made, Promised her mom she'd never go that same route. Turns out Carrie Anne had other plans. Her and her man Ronnie most popular, Second best to nobody Homecoming queen versus ugly duckling. And the story ends the same way. Ok, Ronnie's parents went away for a couple of days. And told him "No Drinking". What the fuck were they thinking? Maria was oblivious that her boyfriend had already been invited. So when Carrie Anne asked She got all excited Like "damn now I got something to look forward to" Or so she thought. Maria kindly accepted, Except it was all bullshit. Not pay attention, Carrie Anne hated Maria cause she could sing. So she scored a bag of heroin. But the craziest thing was Maria never touched drugs, she did that night And when her man was getting beat She was nowhere in sight. Now her boyfriend lie in blood And she had no idea Alberto passed away and she got hooked her senior year Needless to say. It was one one big tragedy. And I hate to break it but It doesn't end happily. A warm day in May, The sky was so beautiful. Carrie Anne died in a crash leaving the funeral.
"Faces In The Hall"
I knew this kid named Alberto. Funny style cat, And his girl looked like a turtle. Not Lisa Turtle, just a turtle. High school track, He ran the hurdle. His peers shed tears senior year when he got murdered. Now Alberto was your average A student. Participated in class, Never came late And never truant. His family was picture perfect. His older sister was prom queen. His dad a decorated vet from the Vietnam team. His mother was Dear Abby,An ordinary house wife. Like clockwork, always had dinner on the table at 5. But Alberto had a monster he kept under his bed. Instead of letting it out, He just got a girlfriend instead. She knew something was funny. She could tell by his behavior. Or the way he flamboyantly shook his hand When he would wave to her. She thought nothing of it. And just shoved it in the closet. Until the day that word dripped out like leaky faucet. Alberto was homosexual. I ain't have nothing against it, But little Ronnie Johnson and all his football player friends did. They'd always pick and nag, Call him "fag" and such and such. And couldn't wait to get to gym so they could really bust his nuts. The gym teacher never cared. He'd just join in on the action. He'd make silly gestures And compared him to Micheal Jackson. Alberto couldn't take it. He'd just stop showing up and whenever he walked them halls, He just felt like throwin' up. And night he would cry and cry and ask "God why?" Like "God, why the fuck'd I have to be born this way?" God would reply, "Son, you've gotta show 'em you're more than gay" Cause he had dreams to be a track star. Until that warm April night. Them gay jokes went way too far. Ronnie begged for his forgiveness And invited him to a party Cause his parents went away And left him plenty of Bacardi. Alberto kindly accepted. He was finally accepted. Except it was all deception. And left them all unprotected. It was a plan Ronnie had scammed To get him in the right place. Verbally degrade and rearrange his pretty face, The plan would go swiftly. They started calling him sissy. One punch turned into fifty. They beat him till he was dizzy. Now Alberto lie in blood While his peers look on in fear. He took his last breath. And passed away his senior year. Needless to say It was one big tragedy And how was Ronnie gonna explain to his family,While they were on vacation taking in sights He got wasted and killed a kid that night.
Don't be a slave and behave the way they do, Just utilize the gifts that God gave you.
I knew this girl named Maria Bright and talented With aspirations to be a Big superstar. What a great idea. Until she fell off and started to listening to her peers. Oh dear! Now Maria was your typical obnoxious Analytical head strong rebel Flippin' off the principal. Single mother home structure. She looked after baby brother. While mom worked two jobs Just to buy supper. Pops was a struggling musician. Troubled man, Juggling family and heroin addiction. He overdosed and left a notice of eviction And a crate of records on the table in the kitchen. And a little angel with a keen sense of sound Who saw silence in the records she found. And she would stay up late at night Reciting songs to herself Under pale moonlight. Righting wrongs that her pops made, Promised her mom she'd never go that same route. Turns out Carrie Anne had other plans. Her and her man Ronnie most popular, Second best to nobody Homecoming queen versus ugly duckling. And the story ends the same way. Ok, Ronnie's parents went away for a couple of days. And told him "No Drinking". What the fuck were they thinking? Maria was oblivious that her boyfriend had already been invited. So when Carrie Anne asked She got all excited Like "damn now I got something to look forward to" Or so she thought. Maria kindly accepted, Except it was all bullshit. Not pay attention, Carrie Anne hated Maria cause she could sing. So she scored a bag of heroin. But the craziest thing was Maria never touched drugs, she did that night And when her man was getting beat She was nowhere in sight. Now her boyfriend lie in blood And she had no idea Alberto passed away and she got hooked her senior year Needless to say. It was one one big tragedy. And I hate to break it but It doesn't end happily. A warm day in May, The sky was so beautiful. Carrie Anne died in a crash leaving the funeral.
Journal: III
Procrastination: to postpone doing something, especially as a regular practice
Story of my life. I’ve been procrastinating my growing up. I’ve been prolonging my adolescence. " it only gets harder the more that you know."---a quote that validates it’s self every day for me as I go through my senior year. When I was younger, going into my double digits, the phrase ‘mid-life crisis’ provided me comfort. I had misinterpreted the phrase of course. What I thought, or understood, was that everyone has one major crisis in their life or mountain to climb, bridge to cross, whichever you prefer. When my family started falling apart I kept thinking that would be all I had to deal with. I kept looking for the light at the end of my very dark tunnel. I thought after that I would be done. That was an immature understanding. The mid-life part really didn't click for me. This can be taken as a warning sign I think. I will be ready for any trouble that comes my way.
“From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs.”
-I will pass down my knowledge to those in that are in the place I was.
-heres looking to the future.
Story of my life. I’ve been procrastinating my growing up. I’ve been prolonging my adolescence. " it only gets harder the more that you know."---a quote that validates it’s self every day for me as I go through my senior year. When I was younger, going into my double digits, the phrase ‘mid-life crisis’ provided me comfort. I had misinterpreted the phrase of course. What I thought, or understood, was that everyone has one major crisis in their life or mountain to climb, bridge to cross, whichever you prefer. When my family started falling apart I kept thinking that would be all I had to deal with. I kept looking for the light at the end of my very dark tunnel. I thought after that I would be done. That was an immature understanding. The mid-life part really didn't click for me. This can be taken as a warning sign I think. I will be ready for any trouble that comes my way.
“From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs.”
-I will pass down my knowledge to those in that are in the place I was.
-heres looking to the future.
Journal Entry: II (12/12/06)
Today is a new day. College is around the corner. I have to say goodbye again. To all the people I’ve built relationships with and all my accomplishments and things I’ve overcome and conquered in Ridgefield. I must leave these behind and start again. Is that what life is, a series of chapters and challenges for us to overcome? When you have prevailed you must start again. That’s how humans were built, to never be satisfied. If I leave Ridgefield with regrets and skeletons in my closet can I still move on? “Forget regret, or life is yours to miss”. I will swear to burn all the bridges I have crossed so that I can never revert to past problems. There is only room for growth. I will never go back to Ridgefield being the same. Would that be a good thing though? I of course will never forget how I crossed my ‘bridges’. Those are important lessons and accomplishments that I will carry forever so that I never have to go back. Fall 2007 will be my second chapter. My entire life up until then is predictable and cliché. I’ve delt with so many of the same things over and over. I shouldn’t have to look at my fair childhood and my disturbed adolescence. I have grown up. Those are the words I leave to Chapter 1 of my life. May I never have to go or look back. Books are only good read once.
"The heart may freeze or it can burn
The pain will ease if I can learn
There is no future,
there is no past
I live this moment as my last
There's only us,
there's only this
Forget regret,
or life is yours to miss
No other road,
no other way
No day but today."
"The heart may freeze or it can burn
The pain will ease if I can learn
There is no future,
there is no past
I live this moment as my last
There's only us,
there's only this
Forget regret,
or life is yours to miss
No other road,
no other way
No day but today."
Journal Entry: I (12/11/06)
They say at the end there is a new beginning. In which cases is this statement true? When on the subject of death, as the end, is a new life given because of it? The myth of the phoenix is that in its last moments of life it ignites to fire. There is no burial of a phoenix that has lived a full life. There is no need to mourn. Out of the ashes of the phoenix a baby phoenix is born, leaving you continuously happy. A friend has died it is the end. So where is my new beginning? Does Joey get one? Out of his untimely death what is everyone else supposed to get? We were given grief and sorrow. We all know pain; it’s nothing new to any of us. It was the end of something so where is the beginning? What is the purpose of investing emotions if we are going to be continually disappointed with the unforgiving human body? When asked are you sad? Depresses? You simply say yes, for now I am. But my beginning will come. Out of all my sorrows and all my loses the only thing I am left with is hope. But what if that’s not enough? Enough to tread on for? Where’s the motivation? If death comes to all why live? Your riches and important personal possessions cannot be taken to the after life. Your emotion and memories cannot be kept for reincarnation. So not it comes down to your impact on others. Though death comes to all that live, what about the dead’s impact on the living? If I died today my only satisfaction in death would be knowing the people I loved. Knowing the people I affected. If I changed the living’s views, or I would hope, lives. Then all death brings is the beginning. To do it again. The people that tell you they love you won’t be the same without you. But could your death bring more love, more people together? Could that be a greater impact on the living than your own life infact? Your life is carried on by the people you touch. They pass on to people they know who you were and what you did to make them laugh, your thoughts, ideas and principals. So I guess I’ve learned to love my friends and be there for them, so that they are there for me when I’m gone. (along time from now)
-Thinking of you Joe and struggling to understand.
-Thinking of you Joe and struggling to understand.
Short Story: 24/7
I had been working at Phillies’ for a little over two months now. I do the late shift because I get what other employees don’t want. Eleven am to seven am. I don’t have a wife or kids, so the only person it affects is me, I don’t mind so much, there isn’t much to do late at night. Just keep making coffee my boss always says. We don’t get much business late at night, only nighthawks past twelve. My boss calls the customers that come in real late nighthawks. They never want to go home and there always looking for somewhere to go. I don’t understand it; maybe it’s an old person thing.
Working in a diner has trained my ears very well, it’s hard not to eaves drop on conversations going on at my tables or especially at the bar. This one couple came in a little while ago, a beautiful red head with her husband on her right arm. They were dressed up like they came from Broadway or something.
“Stewart that was awful.”
“Hun, it was the premier, do you know how many people would have died to see
that play?
“Eve of St. Mark? I’m not sure many people have even heard about that play.”
I can picture them fighting before they got out the door now. Look at them just sitting, he’s smoking and she’s mangling a piece of bread. Gosh, I can’t wait till I get married! I smiled and turned to the gentlemen to my left. He just lost all his money at the poker game and couldn’t stop whining about it. He doesn’t know how to explain to his wife about their new money trouble or his minor gambling problem.
“where have you been David?”
“ I told you, I went to Paul’s tonight”
“Oh, right, how was that?”
“we went to the bar around the corner and just had some drinks. Go back to bed.”
He’s not going to tell his wife about their sudden loss until the next bill comes. Maybe he can recover some losses at work or something. When he does tell her, they are probably going to get into a fight and he’s going to end up right back on my bar school drinking his coffee.
Gosh. What a life I lead. Working all day and making up stories for people that I serve. Well its better than hearing the actual ones I guess. The red head stood up and said,
“Next time go to the crappy play yourself!”
She started walking out when her husband stood up and went after her. I watched them through the windows. Her yelling and using hand gestures like a pro, while he just stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets. He was like the punching bag for her words, he just stood there and took it while she kept screaming at him. I watched them yell for what seemed like forever, just drying my coffee cups glancing out the windows non-schelontley every couple of seconds. The gambling man sat facing me, oblivious to what was going on outside. The man opened his mouth and said what seemed to be one word. The woman shot him a look of disgust and slapped him with her white gloved hand. He turned around and walked down the street out of my site. The woman stayed in the same spot for a while, collected herself and came back and sat at her pervious bar seat.
“Coffee ma’m?” I asked her.
“Make it an irish.”
I poured her coffee with a shot of liquor from my flask. I felt bad for her. I didn’t know what to say to her, I don’t really talk to my customers. The ones that come in late at night either need to sober up or think to themselves. The gambler got up and quickly walked out the door without leaving a tip. Maybe he really didn’t have any money. So it was just me and the red head, I had to talk to her.
“Miss, are you ok?” I asked.
“Why, yes, I’ll be just fine. He just likes to push all my buttons at once. He really
gets to me.” she replied.
I turned to put away more dishes. I tried to hold off on all the things I had to do until late at night because otherwise I’d get bored as soon as I was done. I turned back towards the front door to see red’s husband stumbling back in.
“That bastard mugged me!”
“What?!” his wife asked.
“You know that guy that was sitting right across from us, he mugged me when I
was having a smoke down the street!”
And that’s why I don’t like people. Man is never satisfied with what he already has, there’s always a want for more. I’ll never understand how you can steal someone’s money or something that they’ve worked hard for, or that they earned. I guess that’s what I get for working in a diner that’s open twenty-four/seven. There’s no morality in the stories I hear or the things I see here.
Short Story: The green Napkin
I remember the first time we met. It was a social even at UCLA. We arrived separately with dates that indulged in the punch a little too much. Our dates spent the night in the bathroom and Audrey and I spent the night dancing and talking… I felt that I was going to spend the rest of my life with her after three hours of talking… Maybe it was just lust and confusion. I wrote my number for her on a neon green napkin and waited for her to call for the next two days. From the day she called me, we were inseparable. It seemed perfect.
We were married after dating for a couple years. It seemed to be pure bliss. We hardly argued, we never disagreed and it seemed to be unexplainable.
Thirty years it took us to realize we weren’t happy, not to mention the three years we spent dating. How is it possible one would think… We had two children during our marriage. Eighteen years twice over, raising kids, putting them through college, I guess it takes a lot of the priority off yourself. We didn’t have to deal with each other except when we were newly weds and once the kids finally left the house. I guess that when she decided things weren’t working out.
How can you be together so long then one day just decide its not working out? I’m now fifty five years young, and newly single. I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Who would have thought. Can’t hold me down, I’m the George Clooney of no bodies, cept I got married once. I’m a hawk, I need to fly and be on the prowl.
Yeah, I’m no hawk. Maybe a fat old turkey at most. I’m Lost without Audrey.
“Dad?” my son said as he walked in the door.
“Hey Rob, what brings you here?”
“Thought I’d bring you some left overs.”
“Oh, thanks, I just put one of them Lean Cuisines in the microwave, I’m trying to eat healthy.”
“Out of the millions of years you’ve been alive dad, you haven’t had the time to learn how to cook?”
“Hey, I’ve still got plenty of time to learn”
“You know dad, I’ve heard you can’t teach an old dog new tricks…” He grinned. “What are you doing later? Do you want me to get a movie or something? I know you’re bored out of your mind being in this big house all alone.”
“It’s Saturday night, I’m going out. It just so happens, I have a date.”
“That’s bull. You would never go near another women besides mom. I know you better than you think. You get scared of women on the television. You don’t know how to talk to them.”
“Well, believe it. I’m going out with the bingo caller from meadow ridge.”
“Dad, your fifty something, not seventy something…”
“She doesn’t live there, just does some volunteer work there. It should be fun.”
“Ok, well in that case, I’m taking off. I’ll talk to you later dad.”
“Bye.” It’s always nice when your children stop by to drop off some pity. I guess they don’t know how to react to all this either.
And of course, there was no date, I just needed to seem less pathetic. It had only been three weeks. Three weeks and the only thing I’ve learned is you can stack microwave dinners and make more than one at once. I had two hungry men in the microwave stacked and ready to eat. Gosh, I can’t believe it’s come down to this. That’s depressing. I miss my wife. Audrey would never let me be hungry. She made a superior lasagna.
As I began to drool the bell rang on the microwave. One pound of food the box says. That’s gross. While I ate my over produced chicken legs and sweet corn I thought about why it didn’t work out. I didn’t understand. The divorce papers came completely out of the blue, there was no warning, no fighting. No rising action. I’ve been convincing myself there was a problem. Or that was the problem? There wasn’t one. We never disagreed or argued without making up. A lasting couple goes to bed happy we thought. One would think that it would be a perfect relationship without those things. But they do say that opposites attract, is it possible that we were just the same person? We had no passion, no yearning to be with each other because we were always with each other. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, a theory we never tested. Was it that it was just to right?
I woke up the next morning with intention of not thinking about Audrey and being independent. I showered, read the paper and before I knew it, it was almost 11am. Still on my independence stint I realized that wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t want to be one of those older guys that just lives by themselves. Never re-marries, stays a divorce with no hope or motivation, no passion or love. I don’t know where to meet older women though? Were there this many worries when I did it forty years ago?
The phone rang. I still delay my reaction to the phone. As it rings I always begin to think that its Audrey ready to put this behind us and start on a new path or something dramatic like that. I convince myself that if that were to happen it would have happened two weeks and six days ago. I have to give my self a second to get it out of my head.
I picked up the phone, it was my daughter Liz.
“Hello.” she said plainly.
“Hey, how are you doing?” I asked just as dryly.
“I’m ok.”
“What do you want me to say to you? Sorry? That’s not going to happen.” My daughter has the amazing talent to turn everything into her problem. She’s old enough where if she wants someone to treat her like a child she can hire a baby sitter, I don’t understand what she wants from me.
“Mothers doing well.” I sometimes think she says things like this to stab at me. I love my daughter that’s not the point. She’s just very strongly opinionated and sticks to her guns I guess.
“That’s good, there was never a doubt your mother wouldn’t be doing good, she’s a very strong woman.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you throwing yourself into the middle of this? You should be focusing on your career right now. Me and your mother don’t want to involve you kids in this mess. Its between us, I don’t know what to tell you. You don’t need anymore stress.”
“That’s not the point! I’ve gotta go.”
“Ok, well call me whenever, ill be around, goodbye Liz.”
“Bye”
She calls me just to get mad and hang up with me? She is just as confusing as her mother. I didn’t even get an I love you from her. Since when was this all my fault? I think that’s a mans purpose on this earth, in any country, just a freaking scapegoat. We lead, but women lead us. We take the blame for the problems our wives influence us to create. Quite the circle.
I’ve been talking to myself in my head now for what seems like forever. I need to see my wife. We have court soon. I need to save this marriage. It’s on me now. Can someone make someone fall in love all over again in a matter of days?
I unlocked the door to my Volvo wagon and got in with every intention of bringing my wife home, tonight. I have no plan, no idea how, at this point I just wanted to see her. I’m going to drive to my sister-in-laws house, where she was staying.
“Audrey, please come outside! We need to talk. I’m not signing anything until I get an explanation.” Saying this as I’m banging on the front door getting no answer.
“ROBERT! What are you doing? Don’t do this now, your just embarrassing yourself. You don’t understand, and I don’t think you ever will.”
“Understand what?”
“I know you well enough Robert. I know you just came over here to see me and try and woo me into coming home with you because you think that fixes everything when in fact your never going to win me back Robert!. We’ve grown apart. We’ve created too much baggage for this relationship. It’s just become to heavy for me to carry. People change, things change. Just go home please.”
I was in awe, I didn’t understand. I don’t know what to say to her. Honestly I did think it was going to be that easy. Do I underestimate her seriousness? I don’t think so, I just think she’s still cooling off.
I am a genius. I know how to win her back. I drove to the corner store. I bought a package of lime green napkins. If their was anything universal and cute in our relationship it would be the first thing that brought us together. A green napkin. On our first valentines day I gave her a bouquet of lime green napkins. I took one of the napkins and wrote my phone number on it. I signed it anonymous. I put it under my sister-in-laws door and drove home. I went to bed with the phone that night waiting for her call.
The clock read 11:34, I woke up to my cell phone ringing. It was playing Butter Cup Baby by the Temptations. It was a song she downloaded on my phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“How are you doing Audrey”
“I’m good. Ok, Robert, I really don’t know how to do this. I can’t go on thinking about you I realize it’s only been a matter of weeks since we’ve been separated but I need to work on things for myself for a change, not us.”
“But were supposed t work on things together. I don’t understand why the separation needs to be as real as a divorce? I love you and I don’t know why its not working out? Are you not in love with me?
“Rob, I just need to spend some time on my own. We were married so quickly and went straight to a family. I’ve never really been independent.”
There it was. The I word I’ve been scared of all along.
“That should be a good thing. I’m proud to say that I had someone next to me through out my hard times and the good and bad. Now, you avoided my last question, are you still in love with me?”
“Rob, I don’t think this is the time to talk about this.”
“Audrey. You can’t do this to me.”
“OF COURSE I’m still in love with you, but I don’t know if I still want to be!”
“Audrey you can’t say that. We brought a family into this world we’ve been together so long. Just talk to me, we can work it out.”
“Stop pressing; give me time.”
“You’re my wife! Its my job to press.” This conversation was dragging, I was making no progress or gain with her, she wouldn’t budge. I guess she’s set for now.
“Robert, this is why I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Why because you would see that I love you? Now more than ever?”
“I failed to practice monogamy.”
“What?”
“I cheated on you Robert.”
I awoke the next morning with nothing to say or do. I signed the divorce papers first thing. They had been on the counter for the longest time anyways. Staring at me. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t giving up, just giving in. She obviously isn’t feeling the same way that I am feeling about her. I had no move. Could I get back into a relationship when my wife cheated on me? If it was my brother I’m going to kill someone.
Two days had passed. I haven’t spoken nearly a word. I was done. I’ll never date again.
Part II:
We were married after dating for a couple years. It seemed to be pure bliss. We hardly argued, we never disagreed and it seemed to be unexplainable.
Thirty years it took us to realize we weren’t happy, not to mention the three years we spent dating. How is it possible one would think… We had two children during our marriage. Eighteen years twice over, raising kids, putting them through college, I guess it takes a lot of the priority off yourself. We didn’t have to deal with each other except when we were newly weds and once the kids finally left the house. I guess that when she decided things weren’t working out.
How can you be together so long then one day just decide its not working out? I’m now fifty five years young, and newly single. I have no idea what the hell I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Who would have thought. Can’t hold me down, I’m the George Clooney of no bodies, cept I got married once. I’m a hawk, I need to fly and be on the prowl.
Yeah, I’m no hawk. Maybe a fat old turkey at most. I’m Lost without Audrey.
“Dad?” my son said as he walked in the door.
“Hey Rob, what brings you here?”
“Thought I’d bring you some left overs.”
“Oh, thanks, I just put one of them Lean Cuisines in the microwave, I’m trying to eat healthy.”
“Out of the millions of years you’ve been alive dad, you haven’t had the time to learn how to cook?”
“Hey, I’ve still got plenty of time to learn”
“You know dad, I’ve heard you can’t teach an old dog new tricks…” He grinned. “What are you doing later? Do you want me to get a movie or something? I know you’re bored out of your mind being in this big house all alone.”
“It’s Saturday night, I’m going out. It just so happens, I have a date.”
“That’s bull. You would never go near another women besides mom. I know you better than you think. You get scared of women on the television. You don’t know how to talk to them.”
“Well, believe it. I’m going out with the bingo caller from meadow ridge.”
“Dad, your fifty something, not seventy something…”
“She doesn’t live there, just does some volunteer work there. It should be fun.”
“Ok, well in that case, I’m taking off. I’ll talk to you later dad.”
“Bye.” It’s always nice when your children stop by to drop off some pity. I guess they don’t know how to react to all this either.
And of course, there was no date, I just needed to seem less pathetic. It had only been three weeks. Three weeks and the only thing I’ve learned is you can stack microwave dinners and make more than one at once. I had two hungry men in the microwave stacked and ready to eat. Gosh, I can’t believe it’s come down to this. That’s depressing. I miss my wife. Audrey would never let me be hungry. She made a superior lasagna.
As I began to drool the bell rang on the microwave. One pound of food the box says. That’s gross. While I ate my over produced chicken legs and sweet corn I thought about why it didn’t work out. I didn’t understand. The divorce papers came completely out of the blue, there was no warning, no fighting. No rising action. I’ve been convincing myself there was a problem. Or that was the problem? There wasn’t one. We never disagreed or argued without making up. A lasting couple goes to bed happy we thought. One would think that it would be a perfect relationship without those things. But they do say that opposites attract, is it possible that we were just the same person? We had no passion, no yearning to be with each other because we were always with each other. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, a theory we never tested. Was it that it was just to right?
I woke up the next morning with intention of not thinking about Audrey and being independent. I showered, read the paper and before I knew it, it was almost 11am. Still on my independence stint I realized that wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t want to be one of those older guys that just lives by themselves. Never re-marries, stays a divorce with no hope or motivation, no passion or love. I don’t know where to meet older women though? Were there this many worries when I did it forty years ago?
The phone rang. I still delay my reaction to the phone. As it rings I always begin to think that its Audrey ready to put this behind us and start on a new path or something dramatic like that. I convince myself that if that were to happen it would have happened two weeks and six days ago. I have to give my self a second to get it out of my head.
I picked up the phone, it was my daughter Liz.
“Hello.” she said plainly.
“Hey, how are you doing?” I asked just as dryly.
“I’m ok.”
“What do you want me to say to you? Sorry? That’s not going to happen.” My daughter has the amazing talent to turn everything into her problem. She’s old enough where if she wants someone to treat her like a child she can hire a baby sitter, I don’t understand what she wants from me.
“Mothers doing well.” I sometimes think she says things like this to stab at me. I love my daughter that’s not the point. She’s just very strongly opinionated and sticks to her guns I guess.
“That’s good, there was never a doubt your mother wouldn’t be doing good, she’s a very strong woman.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you throwing yourself into the middle of this? You should be focusing on your career right now. Me and your mother don’t want to involve you kids in this mess. Its between us, I don’t know what to tell you. You don’t need anymore stress.”
“That’s not the point! I’ve gotta go.”
“Ok, well call me whenever, ill be around, goodbye Liz.”
“Bye”
She calls me just to get mad and hang up with me? She is just as confusing as her mother. I didn’t even get an I love you from her. Since when was this all my fault? I think that’s a mans purpose on this earth, in any country, just a freaking scapegoat. We lead, but women lead us. We take the blame for the problems our wives influence us to create. Quite the circle.
I’ve been talking to myself in my head now for what seems like forever. I need to see my wife. We have court soon. I need to save this marriage. It’s on me now. Can someone make someone fall in love all over again in a matter of days?
I unlocked the door to my Volvo wagon and got in with every intention of bringing my wife home, tonight. I have no plan, no idea how, at this point I just wanted to see her. I’m going to drive to my sister-in-laws house, where she was staying.
“Audrey, please come outside! We need to talk. I’m not signing anything until I get an explanation.” Saying this as I’m banging on the front door getting no answer.
“ROBERT! What are you doing? Don’t do this now, your just embarrassing yourself. You don’t understand, and I don’t think you ever will.”
“Understand what?”
“I know you well enough Robert. I know you just came over here to see me and try and woo me into coming home with you because you think that fixes everything when in fact your never going to win me back Robert!. We’ve grown apart. We’ve created too much baggage for this relationship. It’s just become to heavy for me to carry. People change, things change. Just go home please.”
I was in awe, I didn’t understand. I don’t know what to say to her. Honestly I did think it was going to be that easy. Do I underestimate her seriousness? I don’t think so, I just think she’s still cooling off.
I am a genius. I know how to win her back. I drove to the corner store. I bought a package of lime green napkins. If their was anything universal and cute in our relationship it would be the first thing that brought us together. A green napkin. On our first valentines day I gave her a bouquet of lime green napkins. I took one of the napkins and wrote my phone number on it. I signed it anonymous. I put it under my sister-in-laws door and drove home. I went to bed with the phone that night waiting for her call.
The clock read 11:34, I woke up to my cell phone ringing. It was playing Butter Cup Baby by the Temptations. It was a song she downloaded on my phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
“How are you doing Audrey”
“I’m good. Ok, Robert, I really don’t know how to do this. I can’t go on thinking about you I realize it’s only been a matter of weeks since we’ve been separated but I need to work on things for myself for a change, not us.”
“But were supposed t work on things together. I don’t understand why the separation needs to be as real as a divorce? I love you and I don’t know why its not working out? Are you not in love with me?
“Rob, I just need to spend some time on my own. We were married so quickly and went straight to a family. I’ve never really been independent.”
There it was. The I word I’ve been scared of all along.
“That should be a good thing. I’m proud to say that I had someone next to me through out my hard times and the good and bad. Now, you avoided my last question, are you still in love with me?”
“Rob, I don’t think this is the time to talk about this.”
“Audrey. You can’t do this to me.”
“OF COURSE I’m still in love with you, but I don’t know if I still want to be!”
“Audrey you can’t say that. We brought a family into this world we’ve been together so long. Just talk to me, we can work it out.”
“Stop pressing; give me time.”
“You’re my wife! Its my job to press.” This conversation was dragging, I was making no progress or gain with her, she wouldn’t budge. I guess she’s set for now.
“Robert, this is why I didn’t want to talk to you.”
“Why because you would see that I love you? Now more than ever?”
“I failed to practice monogamy.”
“What?”
“I cheated on you Robert.”
I awoke the next morning with nothing to say or do. I signed the divorce papers first thing. They had been on the counter for the longest time anyways. Staring at me. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t giving up, just giving in. She obviously isn’t feeling the same way that I am feeling about her. I had no move. Could I get back into a relationship when my wife cheated on me? If it was my brother I’m going to kill someone.
Two days had passed. I haven’t spoken nearly a word. I was done. I’ll never date again.
Part II:
Memoir: Maturity
It was my sisters wedding day and everything couldn’t have been better. The champagne was gone, the dinner was over, the reception had come to an end. We had traveled a short distance (the bridal party and some guests who had indulged in the open bar) to stay the night. Annie (my sister and bride) had went to the bar with most of the other guests to the wedding. It was here where things went awry.
My brother and his date had gone up to their room in the hotel where they found a mess, an un-cleaned, used hotel room. My brother was already stressed because of fighting with his girlfriend and quite drunk at the time. As an 18 year old though, he held his liquor quite well.
He went down to the front desk to complain and spoke with a young woman. He couldn’t understand why the room was a mess and no one had cleaned it. He told the clerk “I paid for this room! I didn’t pay for some messed up, dirty hotel room!” This is what he said in his mind, but hearing it first hand I know that it was drunken slurred words that were un-annunciated and oddly emphasized, it was a challenge for him. He flicked his room over the desk at the clerk. My brother stormed out of the hotel with his date Lindsay running after him. My sister Alison, the maid of honor ran after him saying “go apologize right now!” Of course with my brothers temper comes stubbornness, and he would not apologize. He told my sister he was sorry for upsetting her, but in his drunken stupor said that the hotel deserved it. I had gone back to the bar at this point out of disappointment, embarrassment and even boredom. The whole situation got tiring quickly. Who really enjoys drunk people yelling at each other for more than like ten minutes? My sister walked back in distressed and unclear. She went to my dad seeking assistance in controlling my brother. I had mentioned before that my father also has this very same temper. He stood up and walked very swiftly outside to my brother. My sister realized what she had done. She yelled for someone to stop my father, but he was gone. (I had mentioned my father was at the bar also? He’s a grown man and should have been able to hold his liquor)
After my father had returned to the bar I walked out to see what he had done. My brother was on his cell phone and my sister stood right in front of him saying “Hang up the phone!” over and over. My brother was bleeding from the lip. After I heard Alison saying “you’re going to regret calling the cops in the morning, I understood what was going on. My brother was very heated and upset, my sister continued to yell at him to hang up the phone or to let her talk to the cops. My brother came up with the brilliant idea to then throw his phone about thirty feet into some bushes. Alison tracked down the phoning hoping the local police department was still on the phone, but it was no longer connected. I then called the police department back hoping to tell them it wasn’t necessary for them to come, thankfully my brother had already given them our location, and the operator said it was necessary just to make sure everything was ok. So Alison and I ran after my brother and hid him in my room so that he couldn’t talk to the cops. We informed them that he had gone to bed and everything was fine. It was my sisters wedding day, we didn’t need an arrest.
My brother and his date had gone up to their room in the hotel where they found a mess, an un-cleaned, used hotel room. My brother was already stressed because of fighting with his girlfriend and quite drunk at the time. As an 18 year old though, he held his liquor quite well.
He went down to the front desk to complain and spoke with a young woman. He couldn’t understand why the room was a mess and no one had cleaned it. He told the clerk “I paid for this room! I didn’t pay for some messed up, dirty hotel room!” This is what he said in his mind, but hearing it first hand I know that it was drunken slurred words that were un-annunciated and oddly emphasized, it was a challenge for him. He flicked his room over the desk at the clerk. My brother stormed out of the hotel with his date Lindsay running after him. My sister Alison, the maid of honor ran after him saying “go apologize right now!” Of course with my brothers temper comes stubbornness, and he would not apologize. He told my sister he was sorry for upsetting her, but in his drunken stupor said that the hotel deserved it. I had gone back to the bar at this point out of disappointment, embarrassment and even boredom. The whole situation got tiring quickly. Who really enjoys drunk people yelling at each other for more than like ten minutes? My sister walked back in distressed and unclear. She went to my dad seeking assistance in controlling my brother. I had mentioned before that my father also has this very same temper. He stood up and walked very swiftly outside to my brother. My sister realized what she had done. She yelled for someone to stop my father, but he was gone. (I had mentioned my father was at the bar also? He’s a grown man and should have been able to hold his liquor)
After my father had returned to the bar I walked out to see what he had done. My brother was on his cell phone and my sister stood right in front of him saying “Hang up the phone!” over and over. My brother was bleeding from the lip. After I heard Alison saying “you’re going to regret calling the cops in the morning, I understood what was going on. My brother was very heated and upset, my sister continued to yell at him to hang up the phone or to let her talk to the cops. My brother came up with the brilliant idea to then throw his phone about thirty feet into some bushes. Alison tracked down the phoning hoping the local police department was still on the phone, but it was no longer connected. I then called the police department back hoping to tell them it wasn’t necessary for them to come, thankfully my brother had already given them our location, and the operator said it was necessary just to make sure everything was ok. So Alison and I ran after my brother and hid him in my room so that he couldn’t talk to the cops. We informed them that he had gone to bed and everything was fine. It was my sisters wedding day, we didn’t need an arrest.
Research Based: The Main Office
A high school is most commonly run like a factory. There are bell schedules to follow; there are penalties for tardiness and absences. It should be strict and controlled. We have teachers, lunch ladies, librarians and even security guards to make sure Ridgefield Public Schools stay under s reasonable level of control. Besides correcting students on their mishaps, what does the administration do? Out of the students I interviewed none of them could even say that they knew our principle. They all focus on the bad things that administration does. This blame is usually put on the principal.
Dr. Lindsay is the current principal at Ridgefield High School. She had been here for almost three years now and has been busy making changes throughout her time here. Why is it that most student shave a negative perception of her? When asked if she was running the school well a student said “not at all, she’s restricting students, and we won’t prosper if the administration doesn’t trust us.” No one seems to understand her goals and accomplishments at the high school thus far and students continue to black list her rather than give her a chance. On the subject of class colors Dr Lindsay only had negative things to say. They we abolished three years ago when Dr. Ellis was still the principal and there were no objections. When Dr. Lindsay came into power most people opposed the changes and took their blame to her. “It’s sexist that I am being blamed for the changes a man made three years ago” says Dr. Lindsay. “It [colors] degrades freshman and puts seniors in a higher place than they deserve.” She wasn’t soft spoken on the subject.
Going back to administration in general, most of the students at Ridgefield High school have no idea what administration does for the school or what goes on inside the office. When students were questioned on what the administration does their responses were all similar, “they do things for us?”. No one seems to understand what goes on because everyone is on schedule. We get up, come to school, go to our classes and go home. Most students haven’t even tried to ever get involved, we go into high school and we get out as soon as possible. There is no room to go explore the office or go ask the principal questions. The board of ed is on the other side of town so we can’t go ask them what they do. Why aren’t students informed?
Across the country the student-to-principal relationships are dwindling. When I was growing up watched shows like Saved By The Bell. Most of these scenes are in a high school and involve the student’s principal, Mr. Belding. All the students know him and he knows the students. I think that a principal’s job has become too serious these days and it should be of their main concern to know their students. A leader doesn’t govern people he/she doesn’t know or understand, they get to know the public some and then lead. Our school is being led without a public vote.
I sat down to an interview with my school principal Dr. Lindsay. She has been at the high school as long as I have. I had to introduce myself to her and tell her what I was doing before I began. I didn’t expect her to know my name, but it would have been nice. As a principal Dr. Lindsay says her main purpose “is to create an environment of greater independence.” This idea is obviously different than mine. She wants to create a name for Ridgefield High school that colleges will recognize and know. She wants to make us something great. I support that but I think she needs the student body on her side first. When asked, most students said they don’t feel like they have a voice at our school and if they wanted on they could have to work hard for it. Most students also agreed the problems with the school must be controlled and ended before we can make such improvements. A lot of the students fear a drug problem that has swept over that Dr. Lindsay has yet to strictly address. It seems to be something that is swept under the rug and ignored. A student arrested for drugs will get a minor penalty and community service. I’ve seen it before, but what’s stopping them from going right back to drugs? I think this is a major problem at our school that should be at the top of the list for things to be addressed.
So does anyone know what administration does besides deal with money and colleges? I still don’t and my time spent researching this topic gave me a little bit more of an idea, but I still feel like there should be more. With a huge main office and tons of technology and new equipment, what do they do down there all day? We may never know.
Dr. Lindsay is the current principal at Ridgefield High School. She had been here for almost three years now and has been busy making changes throughout her time here. Why is it that most student shave a negative perception of her? When asked if she was running the school well a student said “not at all, she’s restricting students, and we won’t prosper if the administration doesn’t trust us.” No one seems to understand her goals and accomplishments at the high school thus far and students continue to black list her rather than give her a chance. On the subject of class colors Dr Lindsay only had negative things to say. They we abolished three years ago when Dr. Ellis was still the principal and there were no objections. When Dr. Lindsay came into power most people opposed the changes and took their blame to her. “It’s sexist that I am being blamed for the changes a man made three years ago” says Dr. Lindsay. “It [colors] degrades freshman and puts seniors in a higher place than they deserve.” She wasn’t soft spoken on the subject.
Going back to administration in general, most of the students at Ridgefield High school have no idea what administration does for the school or what goes on inside the office. When students were questioned on what the administration does their responses were all similar, “they do things for us?”. No one seems to understand what goes on because everyone is on schedule. We get up, come to school, go to our classes and go home. Most students haven’t even tried to ever get involved, we go into high school and we get out as soon as possible. There is no room to go explore the office or go ask the principal questions. The board of ed is on the other side of town so we can’t go ask them what they do. Why aren’t students informed?
Across the country the student-to-principal relationships are dwindling. When I was growing up watched shows like Saved By The Bell. Most of these scenes are in a high school and involve the student’s principal, Mr. Belding. All the students know him and he knows the students. I think that a principal’s job has become too serious these days and it should be of their main concern to know their students. A leader doesn’t govern people he/she doesn’t know or understand, they get to know the public some and then lead. Our school is being led without a public vote.
I sat down to an interview with my school principal Dr. Lindsay. She has been at the high school as long as I have. I had to introduce myself to her and tell her what I was doing before I began. I didn’t expect her to know my name, but it would have been nice. As a principal Dr. Lindsay says her main purpose “is to create an environment of greater independence.” This idea is obviously different than mine. She wants to create a name for Ridgefield High school that colleges will recognize and know. She wants to make us something great. I support that but I think she needs the student body on her side first. When asked, most students said they don’t feel like they have a voice at our school and if they wanted on they could have to work hard for it. Most students also agreed the problems with the school must be controlled and ended before we can make such improvements. A lot of the students fear a drug problem that has swept over that Dr. Lindsay has yet to strictly address. It seems to be something that is swept under the rug and ignored. A student arrested for drugs will get a minor penalty and community service. I’ve seen it before, but what’s stopping them from going right back to drugs? I think this is a major problem at our school that should be at the top of the list for things to be addressed.
So does anyone know what administration does besides deal with money and colleges? I still don’t and my time spent researching this topic gave me a little bit more of an idea, but I still feel like there should be more. With a huge main office and tons of technology and new equipment, what do they do down there all day? We may never know.
Short Story: She
I have been standing at the bottom of the Ferris wheel for about ten minutes now. I’ve already eaten one clue cotton candy. It has been three months since I’ve seen her. My palms are sweaty with anticipation. I glance right, and then left quickly trying to see is she’s here yet. Maybe she showed up early too. It’s getting close to eight. The sun is disappearing behind the bumper cars. Suddenly, generators start up, and things get a little bit louder. Sounds, like little clicks, go off throughout the park, the lights had turned on through the fair. Bright pinks, blues, and yellows. The garbage all over the once green grass isn’t as apparent as before. Maybe that’s why carnivals get busier at night, they appear to be cleaner. A man passes me with a corndog in his left hang. It triggered a new craving. I dropped my cigarette and stepped on it. Do I dare leave this spot just to go to a dirty old concessions stand? What if she comes to meet me while I’m gone? My anxiousness and nerves have mixed and upset my stomach. Maybe some solid food could help calm it down. I look around for a stand with corndogs. Through the crowds of people, clutching their oversized stuffed animals, there it was. I saw it, in big red letters against a white lit up background, corndogs! I got on the line. I was fourth person in line. There was a woman in line. She was next. She had gorgeous dark brown hair flowing half way down her back. She was casually dressed, but still some how managed to show she was classy. There wasn’t to much skin showing… enough to keep you curious. She was wearing a grey tank top, jean Capri’s and thong sandals. Suddenly, a tickle dame to my nose. I sneezed loudly. The women turned around and said ‘Bless you’. I looked up after my sneeze only to see her. The women of my dreams, my date for the night, my best friend who I had been deprived of for months, Carinda. After recognizing each other, we walked off into the crowd hand in hand reminiscing of our past and talking about our futures. I completely forgot about the corndog.
Short Story: Greenfield
I walked out the door with a little over fifty dollars that my parents left me. It was Friday night and I was off to some senseless party to instill my social status on my peers and high school youth. After all homecoming was around the corner and it would be quite the disappointment if my reign as king was ended short. My friends were all crashing an underclassmen’s ‘open’ house. Why pay for booze when you can drive ten minutes to some sophomore party being overthrown by your friends?
I feel the urge to defend my alcoholism. It wasn’t self medication. I don’t have anything to medicate. Or maybe that’s why I have such an attraction to a bottled eighty proof dinner? I’m dead inside? No, it has to be that I’m alive. I need more from life, and small town Greenfield isn’t enough for me. I’m trying to kill the burning sensation for wanting more. It makes me sink to the mentality of an average Greenfielder. Could that be why people stay here?
I arrived at some senseless sophomore’s house (this kid Chris White, he was in my pottery class, that’s how I got the invite, not really important though.) Things start to slow down whenever I’m at a party, and I don’t mean that literally. It’s as if I have time to look around and analyze everything in just moments. There were people all around me. Some of which are my close friends some I don’t even know. What is it about teenage parties that waters an ego and makes it grow? If you host a party you suddenly are the most popular kid. Everyone wants to hang out with you; it can go right to your head. I never feel that way about parties. It’s just a place to drink and to gather, so much better than hanging out in a parking lot with a Poland spring bottle(not water…). I picked up my bottle of Captains, chased it with my coca-cola and started having ‘high school fun’.
They say in an instant, a life can change. It was somewhere between my sophomore year and now that my life had morphed into a stereo-typical Greenfield High School student. A semi-popular alcoholic teenager with drug addictions in short sight. But isn’t that what Greenfield does to people? Peer pressure, fast cars, and a rich life style, it damn near kills you before you get out. I never saw it happen and I never cared enough to stop it. I always said, not me. I would be different. Greenfield High is a gauntlet. I knew that coming in as a freshman. If you don’t survive you will not survive the rest of your life. This was the unwritten test I must pass. But in the heat of a party, and while your in the situation, is anyone thinking about tomorrow? Or the long run? I certainly never was. And who said drinking alone was bad? It’s a non-prescription pain killer for over stressed, daily high school lives.
You can see mud tracked throughout Chris’ house, piles of coats around the dining room… Beer all over the floor of course. If I was a basement where would I be? Most high school party throwers try to contain the mess in the basement by creating some sort of make-shift beruit table for the crowd to gather around. Oh, what a life. It’s a life style I was meant to live. After stumbling around a bit and finding the basement, I can see that people started without me, but that was expected. You look around seeing girls dancing by a boom box, the guys huddled around their beer as usual. The stoners are all outside smoking their bowls and camel cigarettes.
For some reason I feel like I’m better than everyone else, I feel like I have the right to critique everyone around me. It’s upsetting to me cause I come off as the snobby one, I don’t mean to, I just wake up each morning with an attitude thinking I’m better than everyone in Greenfield. It comes naturally…
Teenagers tend to embellish the amount they’ve been drinking to appear more intoxicated and be more open, in the morning you can just use the face that you were drunk for hooking up with someone or saying something wrong, and it unfortunately gets you off the hook every time. I’m not saying I’m better than most of these people who say they drink every night, party all the time, drink alone occasionally, but I feel like I am, because I actually do those things. People think that drinking and being at parties every night is cool, but is that gunna take you anywhere?
I took a couple of shots, and finished my Captains. Then I respectively said by to Chris and walked out the door. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I was restless. I wanted to get out of my comfortable box. It wasn’t worth it because for some reason anywhere I go I always find a way t beat up on myself or someone around me. Every single day I wake up and start thinking about what I’m doing tonight, my life has started revolving around partied and alcohol. It freaks me out because I’m watching it happen, but I can’t bring myself to do anything to stop it and I don’t know why. Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I don’t know if that’s just the teenage hormones talking or if it’s really me. I have lost friends because I’m selfish, I’ve lost my life because I’m an immature adolescent. I’ve lost all my money because I’m addicted. How long will it take for me to admit I might have a problem. Well not a problem, I don’t think rehab is necessary. Recuperating with a bunch of junkies and prostitutes seems like a joke.
I pulled into my drive way and I decided not to think anymore on the topic. Its not gunna help if I sit and beat myself up.
I woke up; it was Saturday, September 11, 2004. This girl Michelle was supposed to be having a huge party tonight, her parents are gunna be gone for like a week. After taking my shower and getting dressed the time was 3:07pm. This was the time when all the townies come out and it’s a lot easier to get word of what’s going on. I decided to go and check out the scene.
I pulled into the parking lot of Rite Aid next to my friend Jordan.
“Hey what’s up?” I asked him.
“Not a whole lot, how bout you?”
“Nothing at all, bored”
“What’d you do last night, I didn’t get a chance to call you…”
…and I didn’t remember. Whether it was alcohol induced or subconsciously erased from my mind, last night was a blur. Not a problem… I’m sure tonight will be exactly the same.
I feel the urge to defend my alcoholism. It wasn’t self medication. I don’t have anything to medicate. Or maybe that’s why I have such an attraction to a bottled eighty proof dinner? I’m dead inside? No, it has to be that I’m alive. I need more from life, and small town Greenfield isn’t enough for me. I’m trying to kill the burning sensation for wanting more. It makes me sink to the mentality of an average Greenfielder. Could that be why people stay here?
I arrived at some senseless sophomore’s house (this kid Chris White, he was in my pottery class, that’s how I got the invite, not really important though.) Things start to slow down whenever I’m at a party, and I don’t mean that literally. It’s as if I have time to look around and analyze everything in just moments. There were people all around me. Some of which are my close friends some I don’t even know. What is it about teenage parties that waters an ego and makes it grow? If you host a party you suddenly are the most popular kid. Everyone wants to hang out with you; it can go right to your head. I never feel that way about parties. It’s just a place to drink and to gather, so much better than hanging out in a parking lot with a Poland spring bottle(not water…). I picked up my bottle of Captains, chased it with my coca-cola and started having ‘high school fun’.
They say in an instant, a life can change. It was somewhere between my sophomore year and now that my life had morphed into a stereo-typical Greenfield High School student. A semi-popular alcoholic teenager with drug addictions in short sight. But isn’t that what Greenfield does to people? Peer pressure, fast cars, and a rich life style, it damn near kills you before you get out. I never saw it happen and I never cared enough to stop it. I always said, not me. I would be different. Greenfield High is a gauntlet. I knew that coming in as a freshman. If you don’t survive you will not survive the rest of your life. This was the unwritten test I must pass. But in the heat of a party, and while your in the situation, is anyone thinking about tomorrow? Or the long run? I certainly never was. And who said drinking alone was bad? It’s a non-prescription pain killer for over stressed, daily high school lives.
You can see mud tracked throughout Chris’ house, piles of coats around the dining room… Beer all over the floor of course. If I was a basement where would I be? Most high school party throwers try to contain the mess in the basement by creating some sort of make-shift beruit table for the crowd to gather around. Oh, what a life. It’s a life style I was meant to live. After stumbling around a bit and finding the basement, I can see that people started without me, but that was expected. You look around seeing girls dancing by a boom box, the guys huddled around their beer as usual. The stoners are all outside smoking their bowls and camel cigarettes.
For some reason I feel like I’m better than everyone else, I feel like I have the right to critique everyone around me. It’s upsetting to me cause I come off as the snobby one, I don’t mean to, I just wake up each morning with an attitude thinking I’m better than everyone in Greenfield. It comes naturally…
Teenagers tend to embellish the amount they’ve been drinking to appear more intoxicated and be more open, in the morning you can just use the face that you were drunk for hooking up with someone or saying something wrong, and it unfortunately gets you off the hook every time. I’m not saying I’m better than most of these people who say they drink every night, party all the time, drink alone occasionally, but I feel like I am, because I actually do those things. People think that drinking and being at parties every night is cool, but is that gunna take you anywhere?
I took a couple of shots, and finished my Captains. Then I respectively said by to Chris and walked out the door. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I was restless. I wanted to get out of my comfortable box. It wasn’t worth it because for some reason anywhere I go I always find a way t beat up on myself or someone around me. Every single day I wake up and start thinking about what I’m doing tonight, my life has started revolving around partied and alcohol. It freaks me out because I’m watching it happen, but I can’t bring myself to do anything to stop it and I don’t know why. Nothing makes sense to me anymore. I don’t know if that’s just the teenage hormones talking or if it’s really me. I have lost friends because I’m selfish, I’ve lost my life because I’m an immature adolescent. I’ve lost all my money because I’m addicted. How long will it take for me to admit I might have a problem. Well not a problem, I don’t think rehab is necessary. Recuperating with a bunch of junkies and prostitutes seems like a joke.
I pulled into my drive way and I decided not to think anymore on the topic. Its not gunna help if I sit and beat myself up.
I woke up; it was Saturday, September 11, 2004. This girl Michelle was supposed to be having a huge party tonight, her parents are gunna be gone for like a week. After taking my shower and getting dressed the time was 3:07pm. This was the time when all the townies come out and it’s a lot easier to get word of what’s going on. I decided to go and check out the scene.
I pulled into the parking lot of Rite Aid next to my friend Jordan.
“Hey what’s up?” I asked him.
“Not a whole lot, how bout you?”
“Nothing at all, bored”
“What’d you do last night, I didn’t get a chance to call you…”
…and I didn’t remember. Whether it was alcohol induced or subconsciously erased from my mind, last night was a blur. Not a problem… I’m sure tonight will be exactly the same.
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