Cutter's Log - Stardate 2012.03.70
Current Song - Break My Stride (Matthew Wilder)
This entry will supplment an entry that I had made in April, called "May 17, 1997 - Moving Day & Saying Goodbye to Merrill"
If I could turn back time ...
Those that REALLY know me well know what colors I bleed.
Everything that was going good for me was taken away from me 5/17/97. I understood what needed to be done. It was for the best interest in my family to move across the river.
It killed me deep inside. The fight to start all over again was squashed (because I was different from the rest) and I was kicked like a can to the side of the road, just like the other "new kids." I could never regain those happy feelings that I once had when I lived on the other side of the river ... the side I call home.
I wasn't all alone when I first entered the playground of my new school. Shocked to see me there was Brandon, a kid that I was a classmate of back at Merrill School. He asked me if I was here.
"I don't know why I'm here," I replied.
***
Those that REALLY know me well know what colors I bleed.
I took a walk down 3rd Avenue in Rock Falls today. The first time I had walked on those sidewalks in almost 15 years. It took me a while to get across the block. I had to stop at many different places.
I saw my old house, the white one on the corner of 3rd Avenue and 5th Street. It still looks the same, but the blue window trimming is gone. It was fitting that the colors of my house would match the colors of Merrill School's blue and white. Standing on the sidewalk, I gazed through the windows to remember what was inside. Then up the steps to the second story. My bedroom. The closet. The same closet that I cried inside on 5/17/97.
I shrugged myself to get out of that feeling. To the right of the house is a tree that is split into two. It was easy to climb that tree, and remembered back when my brother Mike was trying to run away and climbed the tree to get away from Alesha. Mike was one of those kids that believed in cooties at the time. That memory faded away once again.
I then looked across the street to the two-story white house that Jared and Laurelle used to live in. I had spent many days in that house looking over Jared's baseball cards. I stopped and tried to remember some of the cards he had, especially those 1954 remakes we both thought were real. That memory faded away once again.
I could only walk a few more steps until looking at my neighbor's house. The Williams kids had lived there, and they had a couple of girls that were Chris and Dan's age. So many times we crossed that side yard and onto their side sidewalk. Then they moved out and some teenagers moved in. I had remembered one of them from a bus route that I was on in pre-school. These two teenage girls would babysit us whenever mom and dad were away. These memories faded away once again.
Just one house down was Stephanie and Jeremy's. We had spent many days playing outside, and from the corner of my eye I saw the same garage that Shawn had his basketball hoop hooked up to. Other than our garage, this was the only other one on the block, and it was much shorter. That memory faded away once again.
Just a couple houses down was Wesley and David's. There was a wooden playing structure in their backyard, and Mason (who lived one over from them) and I would always go there after playing at Mason's. Mason was really into the Power Rangers at the time. That memory faded away once again.
There is a white house next to Mason's old house that sits on a corner. This was an old man's when I was there, but now it has just as much toys as our's had when I lived here. Upon reaching 4th Street, I turned back to my old stretch of 3rd Avenue and looked at it for a while. Turning 90 degrees I looked west on 4th Street and saw a glimpse of the Nance's back yard. I remembered playing football with Dan and Brendyn one summer day and catching an interception. That memory faded away once again.
Up the bumpy 4th Street hill going east, I hit 2nd Avenue. To the left a ways was the drive-thru for the bank, and next to it was Justin's house - one of Mike's friends. Going back down 2nd Avenue toward 5th Street, I passed the large apartment house and came to a small wall that divided the yard of that apartment complex with Aaron and Chrysteena's driveway. That wall had a flat top to it, and I would cut across and walk on the flat top whenever I went to Aaron's house.
I spent many days at Aaron's as well. He had this bedroom that, when you entered it, was a huge step down. I had taken my World Series Baseball sega game over there on occasion and we would play the "season series" mode with the White Sox. I remembered back to one day that he had a cup in his room and we would announce the next batter while speaking into the cup, giving it a speaker-like sound. That memory faded away once again. It's too bad the house is a little run-down.
Mikey's! His back yard was across the alley from my back yard. Well, this was his grandmother's house. So many games of baseball were played in our yards. The memories were so strong that I had to hurry up and go back to my old house to remember the diamond layout that we had.
Home plate was the back door. First base was a tree that sat next to the 5th Street sidewalk. Second base was the door to the garage. Third base was this small collection of shrubs that laid between our house and Williams's. Hitting a home run meant hitting the ball across the garage roof. That memory faded away once again.
Straight ahead was the walking path to Merrill School that I embarked on every day for four years. Stepping from the corner sidewalks to the 3rd Avenue street, I looked at a piece of newer cement. I remember when that piece was poured. The same sidewalk exists from the one-block school trek, overgrown even more with more grass.
Merrill School became a little closer. I stopped at the intersection in front of it, just like waiting for Mrs. Stuker to hold up traffic so that we could cross the streets and into the school yard. That memory faded away once again.
I approached Merrill School, a place that I could speak volumes of. I thought about entering the playground area, but had remembered an incident not too long after I moved away. One day, when Sterling had no school and Rock Falls did, I rode my bike back into my old neighborhood and stopped at a bench on the schoolground since I was tired. My old principal went out and told me to leave because I was technically trespassing on school grounds. So I didn't enter the schoolground, but walked along the fence.
I recalled the lines that we all had to line up on to enter the school. Kindergarten was first. 1st grade next and so on. Emily, Mallory and Alisha were always the first girls in line when I was in 1st grade. This memory came to mind. Then it faded away. I made my way toward the swings, where I could remember challenging Dennis to see who could swing the highest. I pictured myself on the playground equipment: the bars, the merry-go-round, the logs, and the yellow slide (which is no longer there, we had the slide put in when I was in 2nd grade because of a soup-label drive).
Minnie's corner - 5th Avenue, 5th Street and Culver Street. I never had the honor of having Minnie hold the traffic for me. Like Mrs. Stuker, she had been there a long time. I made my way down 5th Avenue to the playground that the 3rd, 4th and 5th graders went to for lunch-recess. These are memories that are most fresh.
I can still see Mr. James refereeing our soccer matches and Antonio running around the soccer pitch as if he was the best soccer player out there. Sometimes the ball would go over the fence and across 5th Avenue. Next to the soccer area was where Mr. Stralow refereed flag football. These were where the memories are the freshest. The gym was staring right back at me. I swear I stood along the fence for 15 minutes looking over at the gym and thinking of the great memories that me and everyone else had with Mr. G.
As I approched the last bit of space that Merrill occupied, I knew there were no more fresh memories that came to mind.
I cried.
I decided to walk back across the school ground. I was crying, and cried even more the more I walked closer to the school building. I had to quickly hide my tears because I had to walk back to my car, which was parked over at Hardees. I didn't want anyone to know that I was crying. When I got back to Stuker's corner, I decided to go along 4th Avenue to 4th Street, passing Nance's house and back toward Jesse's Towing.
I couldn't resist turning my head back down 3rd Avenue once again. More tears began to do down. "Stop it!" I told myself. I didn't want anyone to see me crying.
Eventually I made my way back to my car back at Hardees. I sat there for a while, cried some more, and drove back down past Merrill once again.
I drove down West 5th Street, a street I rode my bike on a lot. Turned on 8th Avenue before turning on 2nd Street toward Rock Falls High School. As I drove toward the school, I slowed down near Johnna's old house. That thought stuck in my head for a while before I made my way to the high school. I slowed down once more to take one good look at it. There was the bench that was put up in memory of Kallahan, a friend of mine from grade school that passed away WAY too young.
Rock Falls High School. I should have been there.
Rock Falls High School. Where my grandparents began dating. Where my grandpa was president of the "R" Club in '63 (now called the ACE Club). Where my mom attended school, my uncles Wayne, Greg and Randy, my cousin Joshua and many, many Holloways over the years.
***
Those that REALLY know me well know what colors I bleed.
I parked at the school parking lot and walked up the hill toward the front of the school, where the bench sits. I said "Hi, Kal." as I made my way to the bench and sat down.
"Yeah, I put on a few pounds, so I hope this doesn't hurt," I muttered as I sat.
I had tried to remember my school days with him, as he came to Merrill in 2nd grade and was in my 3rd and 4th grade classes.
"Remember playing soccer at recess? Or did you play football? I can't remember. I went by our school today. I cried. Yeah, Kal, I admit it. I'm a grown man and I cried."
Turns out I had remembered more when I would come to RFHS to sit in the student section for basketball games. The last time I saw him was when I was watching a softball game (the year my friends took 4th at state) and I was standing next to him and Kody.
"You probably don't remember that," I said. "Didn't see you again after that day. Kal, I wish I would have went to school here."
I was staring right into windows that led to Mr. Harper's study hall room.
"Remember the time Mr. Harper wanted to give me a detention for acting rude at a basketball game? And I said, sure, go ahead! Were you there for that one?"
After saying that, I began to think about an alternative reality. What IF things were different, and I stayed put in Rock Falls?
***
Those that REALLY know me well know what colors I bleed.
When my parents were looking for a house, one of the places that we stumbled upon was a newer house in a subdivision off of Hickory Hills Road near Knief Road. Jared had just moved to that neighborhood, and he was going to Montmorency for 5th grade. This was a perfect fit! Jared and I could have been best friends through high school together as well.
Everything was going to be farther away. Montmorency was a hike. Shopping was a hike. I pretty much would have been contained to the subdivision and the one off of Buell Road. I don't know anyone else that lived in those two subdivisions, but I knew that I would eventually join up with my old pals at RFHS one day.
I couldn't get a gage on anything else with that particular alternative reality path. So I thought of what would have happened if we hadn't moved at all.
In the final day of 4th grade, we had learned who our 5th grade teachers were. Since I was already living in Sterling by then, I never knew if I was going to be in Mr. Stralow's class or Mrs. Gallardo's class. I had a feeling Stralow took all of the athletes.
It took a while for me to try to piece the alternate reality together. Jared was going to be at Montmorency anyway. Kody and I were in the same desk group in 4th grade (Johnna and Nicole were also in it) and we were on the same little league baseball team. (At this time a little bit of an erie feeling came upon me when I thought of Kody, while sitting on a bench with Kal's name on it). I probably would have migrated to flag football at recess.
It sure would have been easier to move around. Because of depression, I had gotten a bit more chunky. I wasn't going to be depressed, and I thought I was going to be kind of good at football. Mr. Stralow probably would have suggested to me that I tried more defense than catching the ball. Nevertheless, I would have had a lot of fun with my friends. I probably would have asked my parents that I go out for junior tackle football. Who knows from there? Possibly a lineman on the Rock Falls Football team? (Not that it would change anything, really).
I sure would have had stronger friendships as we went to Middle School. The cliques would have molded into the shape that I currently recall from RFHS '05. I could honestly see myself in the rung just below "popular". I probably would have been more of a trouble-maker than how I was at Sterling (probably because at Sterling, I didn't have the gumption to do anything pretty much). Who knows? I certainly would have been one of those Rocket Rowdies. Heck, even Wrestling would have been a possibility. I probably would have quit after a couple of years and concentrated on throwing shot/discus. NCIC champion? Probably not.
I'm also going to go on record and say this --- I would have had a girlfriend in Middle School. Who, I don't know. One of the Whites maybe? Johnna? One of the Ashleys? I don't even know if any girl at Merrill liked me. I don't recall. There were only two people from my class at Merrill that I can recall that were "sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes (something something) baby carriage!"
One thing that I don't think would have changed was my sense of humor. Because I wound up being so shy at Sterling, I didn't show much of my sense of humor. However, at Sterling there is a classmate of mine named Patrick that I sort of saw myself as, if I were still at Rock Falls.
There, a comparision.
***
Those that REALLY know me well know what colors I bleed.
I think it was a good 30 minutes sitting on this bench when I saw someone else on the school grounds. I summed it all up by telling Kal, "I could do all of the what-ifs I want ... oh, sorry." I wrapped up my visit by walking away giving a "peace" and a salute.
With my version of an alternate reality sort of established, I thought this was much better than how I'm doing things now. This made me look back at my years at Challand.
I then got angry.
Everything that was going good for me was taken away from me 5/17/97.
To think of the life that I would have had! Then again, I wouldn't have the journalism career I have now. I wouldn't have been an athletic manager for SHS varsity teams as an underclassman. I probably wouldn't have been Rock Falls Softball's No. 1 fan as well - as some of that had to do with my moving away. I would have just been one of those students that went to the games. Okay, so maybe the whole Rock Falls Softball thing wouldn't have changed in this alternate reality.
I might have been in Chicago teaching at a school. Heck, I may even be married by now. Kids, maybe.
Sure I wouldn't have had my current love for high school sports in this alternate reality, but you know what? THINGS WOULD BE MUCH, MUCH HAPPIER IN MY LIFE IF THIS WERE POSSIBLE!
***
Those that REALLY know me well know what colors I bleed.
I've spent 15 years in social misery. Now I want to go back and pick up where I left off.
For the past couple of years, I couldn't find the drive to live life as well as my friends have. I couldn't find the drive to have fun. I'm still stuck in the same house that I moved to 15 years ago. I think the perfect symbolic ending to this misery would be none other than ... going back home.
Over the years, though, I have acquired many skills. Sportswriting being one of them. It's not like the sportswriting is going to go away when I "go back home."
I've "gone back home" many times when I would go to RFHS to watch sporting events with my friends. It is these memories that I will not forget from my high school days. The night Emily, Jen and Joi introduced me to ICQ (and how I didn't know how to use it and they were wondering why I wasn't responding to their messages). The night of the "detention." The "Bike Ride."
I felt at peace with my Merrill classmates and their friends than I did at Sterling for some reason. I still can't pinpoint it, but the difference in feeling is still there.
Those of you from Sterling reading this are going to yell at me for this blog entry. However, if there is one thing I've learned from being a journalist (a profession thanks to you) is that I will not be afraid to state anything.
While I am truly appreciative of what Sterling has given me professionally, Rock Falls will forever be my home.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Autobiography Chapters
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.92.70
Current Song - Badge (Cream)
Some entries ago, I mentioned that I could write an autobiography about myself. I actually tried to do this, but lost the copy in a computer virus. However, if I put enough time into it, I could really put something together.
At times, I like to use my Blog platform to tell stories about my childhood (such as the last entry about my friend Evan). This autobiography would simply be a mix of biographical material and short memoirs.
Here's how I'd like to split the chapters:
Foreward - (I'm offering this to anyone interested)
Preface - A family background
Chapter 1: Growing Up Unlike Any Other Person (1986-1993)
Chapter 2: Once a Merrill Missile, Always a Merrill Missile (1993-1997)
Chapter 3: $%#@, $%#@, $%#@, $%#@, $%#@!!! (1997-2001)
Chapter 4: Mixed Blood of Two River Cities (2001-2005)
Chapter 5: The Chapter to Omit When Edition II Comes Out (2005-present)
Current Song - Badge (Cream)
Some entries ago, I mentioned that I could write an autobiography about myself. I actually tried to do this, but lost the copy in a computer virus. However, if I put enough time into it, I could really put something together.
At times, I like to use my Blog platform to tell stories about my childhood (such as the last entry about my friend Evan). This autobiography would simply be a mix of biographical material and short memoirs.
Here's how I'd like to split the chapters:
Foreward - (I'm offering this to anyone interested)
Preface - A family background
Chapter 1: Growing Up Unlike Any Other Person (1986-1993)
Chapter 2: Once a Merrill Missile, Always a Merrill Missile (1993-1997)
Chapter 3: $%#@, $%#@, $%#@, $%#@, $%#@!!! (1997-2001)
Chapter 4: Mixed Blood of Two River Cities (2001-2005)
Chapter 5: The Chapter to Omit When Edition II Comes Out (2005-present)
Saturday, July 28, 2012
The First Friendship
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.82.70
Current Song - Borderline (Madonna)
My brother Mike stopped in the gas station tonight while I was working. I don't see him often since he'd moved out due to a whole lot of work. So long, in fact, I had forgotten where he lived. I asked him if he still lived at the first place he moved to. Nope.
Then he said something about wanting to move into a brick apartment on 6th Avenue in Sterling. Not the large complex, but a red-bricked one that is located on the same block that our family used to live from 1988 to 1993. We lived on 11th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues, and at the other end of the alley is the Temple Sholom. (Just reminded me of another story for another time).
I had asked Mike if he knew that the place he was looking at was the same block of the first house that he's ever lived in. He doesn't remember much of his time in this particular neighborhood, but I remember a few things about it.
The place that Mike is looking at is right next to a vacant lot which once stood the house of the very first friend that I ever had.
We are going back a little more than 20 years. I was five years old and a pre-schooler, and at that time I was interested in exploring outside of my own confines of the front yard. We lived right next to the alley, which served as my "main drag" of sorts. That, and the sidewalk along 11th Street were the bike paths I would go up and down on.
Apparently there was someone else that had wanted to explore more of what the world is like outside of the front yard. His name was Evan. Eventually we met up at some far away point outside of our mothers' eyes. He was maybe 3 or 4 years old. I'd like to say we were along 6th Avenue when we met. There was another older kid that lived on the corner of 6th/11th, and it was probably through this connection. Evan had an older brother named Randy and an older sister (whose name escapes me).
He was the first friend that would come over to my house and play. Likewise, I would come over to his house as well. I would take the alley down to a cut-across behind the Synagogue and cross Wilson Avenue behind another house to get to his back door. What made things fun was that he was the only kid my age on our block. There were a couple of kids on 5th Avenue who were much older, about the same age as this one kid on the corner duplex.
Since we were the same age, we played with the same toys, and did the same things and other kid-friend things like that. I had already been well-acquainted with the original Nintendo system, and I likely introduced him to that.
The biggest "thrill" at the time was daring each other to walk up the fire escape of the synagogue to the 2nd story (remember, I was no older than 6 and he was no older than 5.). I don't know who got up there first, probably me. We would do some other ruckus near the synagogue. At the back of the building there were some weeds - you know, the green ones that you could slightly bend and they were break in half. We would chop those down once in a while. Another synagogue memory involved this arborvitae tree with an opening on the side. It was climbable to where we could reach the top of the awning on the synagogue patio. Can't remember if Evan was a part of that or not.
When I was in pre-school class, he was attending Early Bird. He was still attending Early Bird when I started going to Jefferson School for kindergarten.
If it hadn't been for Evan, I probably wouldn't have known what friendships were all about. It was in Kindergarten that I met my friends Nick and Josie, and later Seth - who I've known for years.
I moved to Rock Falls in August of 1993. I have never seen or heard from Evan since.
Current Song - Borderline (Madonna)
My brother Mike stopped in the gas station tonight while I was working. I don't see him often since he'd moved out due to a whole lot of work. So long, in fact, I had forgotten where he lived. I asked him if he still lived at the first place he moved to. Nope.
Then he said something about wanting to move into a brick apartment on 6th Avenue in Sterling. Not the large complex, but a red-bricked one that is located on the same block that our family used to live from 1988 to 1993. We lived on 11th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues, and at the other end of the alley is the Temple Sholom. (Just reminded me of another story for another time).
I had asked Mike if he knew that the place he was looking at was the same block of the first house that he's ever lived in. He doesn't remember much of his time in this particular neighborhood, but I remember a few things about it.
The place that Mike is looking at is right next to a vacant lot which once stood the house of the very first friend that I ever had.
We are going back a little more than 20 years. I was five years old and a pre-schooler, and at that time I was interested in exploring outside of my own confines of the front yard. We lived right next to the alley, which served as my "main drag" of sorts. That, and the sidewalk along 11th Street were the bike paths I would go up and down on.
Apparently there was someone else that had wanted to explore more of what the world is like outside of the front yard. His name was Evan. Eventually we met up at some far away point outside of our mothers' eyes. He was maybe 3 or 4 years old. I'd like to say we were along 6th Avenue when we met. There was another older kid that lived on the corner of 6th/11th, and it was probably through this connection. Evan had an older brother named Randy and an older sister (whose name escapes me).
He was the first friend that would come over to my house and play. Likewise, I would come over to his house as well. I would take the alley down to a cut-across behind the Synagogue and cross Wilson Avenue behind another house to get to his back door. What made things fun was that he was the only kid my age on our block. There were a couple of kids on 5th Avenue who were much older, about the same age as this one kid on the corner duplex.
Since we were the same age, we played with the same toys, and did the same things and other kid-friend things like that. I had already been well-acquainted with the original Nintendo system, and I likely introduced him to that.
The biggest "thrill" at the time was daring each other to walk up the fire escape of the synagogue to the 2nd story (remember, I was no older than 6 and he was no older than 5.). I don't know who got up there first, probably me. We would do some other ruckus near the synagogue. At the back of the building there were some weeds - you know, the green ones that you could slightly bend and they were break in half. We would chop those down once in a while. Another synagogue memory involved this arborvitae tree with an opening on the side. It was climbable to where we could reach the top of the awning on the synagogue patio. Can't remember if Evan was a part of that or not.
When I was in pre-school class, he was attending Early Bird. He was still attending Early Bird when I started going to Jefferson School for kindergarten.
If it hadn't been for Evan, I probably wouldn't have known what friendships were all about. It was in Kindergarten that I met my friends Nick and Josie, and later Seth - who I've known for years.
I moved to Rock Falls in August of 1993. I have never seen or heard from Evan since.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Mancaves
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.72.70
Current Song - Couldn't Get It Right (Climax Blues Band)
I happened to wake up extra early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. So for the meantime I'm once again cleaning my room.
It's come to the point where my room has expanded to outside of my room, taking up almost all of the hallway space upstairs. Some things cannot be moved, such as my computer - which we all use and would be kind of dumb to put it in my own room.
Since I run a website, there are a lot of my things near the computer such as files, equipment, pens/papers, etc. Today I'm working on trying to get some of this stuff in my own room. Hopefully I can make my room something work walking in, for other reasons than just going to sleep.
It's too bad I can't move my computer inside my bedroom. Then I'd spend eternity there.
Eternity. I don't think my parents want that. Sooner or later I will be able to find a place to live in, whether it be moving in with a woman that I love (crosses fingers) or one of my own. Either way there's a place that I want to put all of my things in and do almost all of my work in.
I was introduced to the concept of a "Man Cave" by a couple of message board friends of mine on Turk's Place, and the thought has always been in mind until now. Right now my bedroom pretty much has to double as the man cave since I don't have any other personal space in the house. I've never had a theme for my bedroom, since I never really had a favorite anything. In recent years, I have put more Chicago White Sox things in my room, but it doesn't take up a whole lot of space.
My walls are white. When my brother Chris shared a room with my brother Dan, his walls were filled with many things. I look at mine and think about how bare it is.
Time to fill it up. But with what? In my last entry I wrote about my high school sports memorabilia collection. Bingo.
I want my Man Cave full of older high school sports memorabilia from area high schools. Museum pieces, framed stuff, pennants, letterjackets, and things like that. I want to hang my coat in an old gym locker. But I want them to be conversation pieces, and it would be better if there was a great story attached to it. Example: "This desk with my computer on it is Bob Reade's coaches desk from when he was at Geneseo. He drew up a lot of plays at this desk." and so on and so on ...
Yesterday, I took a trip to try to find these pieces of history.
Because of my profession as a high school sports journalist, I don't collect anything from my days as a journalist. I just sum that up as not collecting anything from the 21st century. This means the last year that I can collect stuff is from 1999.
1999 was a great year, especially for Rock Falls. I have a state champion basketball hoop that hangs on the top of my closet door. I have the box of cereal that has their team picture on it. At a store in Sterling, I added some framed newspaper clippings of the state title win (similar to what hung in the lobby at Bennigan's in RF - but I don't think these are the same ones).
I added to my collection of pins with a couple of Sterling athletic pins from the early 90s, as well as a RFHS pin from the 1970s. This all adds to my only other pin, which reads "I (heart) Lady Rocket Basketball".
Also added to the collection were a couple of bits from youth sports, which will still work for the collection. I bought a copy of the first edition of a small magazine called "Twin City Living," and in it is a written history of the junior tackle football program in Sterling and Rock Falls. Much more prizing than that is a true piece of memorabilia: a 1944 Merrill School "first team" basketball award ribbon (which belonged to an "L. Boehm").
This one had nothing to do with sports, but I figured every man cave needs a special set of playing cards. This antique store had a double-set of cards commemorating the opening of Guilford High School in Rockford. The box is dressed in navy blue velvet and the backs of the cards show the entrance to the school. The cards are at least 50 years old.
Leaving town, I headed down Route 30 to hit some of the Little 10 area. I wound up not finding anything there, and also drove to Sugar Grove and Yorkville with no luck. Finally, Sandwich had a couple of things. One store had a vintage Sandwich High "S" letter, which I bought. Another store had a couple of "A" letters. I asked the clerk for a closer look at them, thinking they may be from Amboy (they were red and black), but they were from East Aurora instead.
By that time, it was soon to be 5 p.m. and it was raining. So I'll have to continue the search on another weekday that I have off of work.
I'm also searching through ebay, and will figure out a way to make payments in a way that is safe.
For now, I have a room to clean up. So for an undetermined amount of time, the bedroom will double as the Man Cave until moving out.
***
And if you have things to unload, I'll take them.
Current Song - Couldn't Get It Right (Climax Blues Band)
I happened to wake up extra early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep. So for the meantime I'm once again cleaning my room.
It's come to the point where my room has expanded to outside of my room, taking up almost all of the hallway space upstairs. Some things cannot be moved, such as my computer - which we all use and would be kind of dumb to put it in my own room.
Since I run a website, there are a lot of my things near the computer such as files, equipment, pens/papers, etc. Today I'm working on trying to get some of this stuff in my own room. Hopefully I can make my room something work walking in, for other reasons than just going to sleep.
It's too bad I can't move my computer inside my bedroom. Then I'd spend eternity there.
Eternity. I don't think my parents want that. Sooner or later I will be able to find a place to live in, whether it be moving in with a woman that I love (crosses fingers) or one of my own. Either way there's a place that I want to put all of my things in and do almost all of my work in.
I was introduced to the concept of a "Man Cave" by a couple of message board friends of mine on Turk's Place, and the thought has always been in mind until now. Right now my bedroom pretty much has to double as the man cave since I don't have any other personal space in the house. I've never had a theme for my bedroom, since I never really had a favorite anything. In recent years, I have put more Chicago White Sox things in my room, but it doesn't take up a whole lot of space.
My walls are white. When my brother Chris shared a room with my brother Dan, his walls were filled with many things. I look at mine and think about how bare it is.
Time to fill it up. But with what? In my last entry I wrote about my high school sports memorabilia collection. Bingo.
I want my Man Cave full of older high school sports memorabilia from area high schools. Museum pieces, framed stuff, pennants, letterjackets, and things like that. I want to hang my coat in an old gym locker. But I want them to be conversation pieces, and it would be better if there was a great story attached to it. Example: "This desk with my computer on it is Bob Reade's coaches desk from when he was at Geneseo. He drew up a lot of plays at this desk." and so on and so on ...
Yesterday, I took a trip to try to find these pieces of history.
Because of my profession as a high school sports journalist, I don't collect anything from my days as a journalist. I just sum that up as not collecting anything from the 21st century. This means the last year that I can collect stuff is from 1999.
1999 was a great year, especially for Rock Falls. I have a state champion basketball hoop that hangs on the top of my closet door. I have the box of cereal that has their team picture on it. At a store in Sterling, I added some framed newspaper clippings of the state title win (similar to what hung in the lobby at Bennigan's in RF - but I don't think these are the same ones).
I added to my collection of pins with a couple of Sterling athletic pins from the early 90s, as well as a RFHS pin from the 1970s. This all adds to my only other pin, which reads "I (heart) Lady Rocket Basketball".
Also added to the collection were a couple of bits from youth sports, which will still work for the collection. I bought a copy of the first edition of a small magazine called "Twin City Living," and in it is a written history of the junior tackle football program in Sterling and Rock Falls. Much more prizing than that is a true piece of memorabilia: a 1944 Merrill School "first team" basketball award ribbon (which belonged to an "L. Boehm").
This one had nothing to do with sports, but I figured every man cave needs a special set of playing cards. This antique store had a double-set of cards commemorating the opening of Guilford High School in Rockford. The box is dressed in navy blue velvet and the backs of the cards show the entrance to the school. The cards are at least 50 years old.
Leaving town, I headed down Route 30 to hit some of the Little 10 area. I wound up not finding anything there, and also drove to Sugar Grove and Yorkville with no luck. Finally, Sandwich had a couple of things. One store had a vintage Sandwich High "S" letter, which I bought. Another store had a couple of "A" letters. I asked the clerk for a closer look at them, thinking they may be from Amboy (they were red and black), but they were from East Aurora instead.
By that time, it was soon to be 5 p.m. and it was raining. So I'll have to continue the search on another weekday that I have off of work.
I'm also searching through ebay, and will figure out a way to make payments in a way that is safe.
For now, I have a room to clean up. So for an undetermined amount of time, the bedroom will double as the Man Cave until moving out.
***
And if you have things to unload, I'll take them.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Collecting H.S. Sports Stuff
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.42.70
Current Song - Moonlight Serenade (Glenn Miller)
For old time's sake, I purchased some packs of baseball cards from the Casey's in town a couple of days ago. There weren't too much in them other than base cards worth a quarter - the ones that no one wants. No autographs, no game-used stuff and just a few minor inserts. All I can hope for is for a guy named Brett Lawrie to become real good, since I pulled two of his rookies.
These cards add to a baseball card collection that I have, which started 22 years ago. Collecting baseball cards was put in the backburner when the journalism thing kicked in, but I visited it from time to time. Now my large case of cards is pinned against a bedroom corner, with the handles against the wall so that I won't look at them and concentrate on other things.
Collecting things costs money, and that was one of the things that I needed to stop doing in order to survive in this great big world. But a trip to an antique store brought back a time when I once collected high school sports items.
Collecting them didn't go over too well for some reason, but I was able to bring in a few things - rescuing them from the warehouse shelves of ebay users from out of state.
One of the first things that I bought was a plastic minature basketball from the late 1960s of Rockford East. Another find was a pennant from Belleville High School, before the high school split into two - making it a unique piece. I have lost track of the basketball, but I eventually donated the Belleville pennant to the new Illinois Basketball Hall of Fame Museum (opening in Danville in 2013).
But my most prized item didn't come from ebay. It came from a friend, who kept a basketball program from his playing days. This was from Limestone High School in the mid-1980s, and on the freshman boys basketball team that season was Jim Thome - yep, the same Jim Thome that has over 600 homeruns.
Programs are a unique find. I have three Sterling High School football programs: against Dixon in 1955 and Ottawa in 1956, and the best one I have is SHS's first football playoff game in history (against Normal in 1974).
What inspired me to write this was a trip to Savanna. My grandparents take me out to dinner for my birthday - and because of commitments we are just doing this now. We ate at Manny's, and afterward we went to an old Opera House that is now an antique shop. The gallery featured items found by American Pickers star Frank Fritz.
That further brought me back to one episode of American Pickers where they found an early liscense plate, made out of rubber. They dug it out of an old barn and eventually sold it to an automobile museum. Bringing things from the collective abyss and into more proper hands was something that fascinated me. It brought me back to when I collected these high school sports items; as I mentioned earlier, taking them from warehouse shelves and bringing them more closer to home. From there, I might just put them into more proper hands.
Also included in this collection of stuff are old jerseys and tournament t-shirts (but such that I have are probably not of value unless truly historical). I still have the cereal box of the 1999 Rock Falls basketball team, as well as a small basketball hoop of the team.
Antique stores may just be yet another stop on my sports travels. The older the item, the better. Oddball things are even better.
Current Song - Moonlight Serenade (Glenn Miller)
For old time's sake, I purchased some packs of baseball cards from the Casey's in town a couple of days ago. There weren't too much in them other than base cards worth a quarter - the ones that no one wants. No autographs, no game-used stuff and just a few minor inserts. All I can hope for is for a guy named Brett Lawrie to become real good, since I pulled two of his rookies.
These cards add to a baseball card collection that I have, which started 22 years ago. Collecting baseball cards was put in the backburner when the journalism thing kicked in, but I visited it from time to time. Now my large case of cards is pinned against a bedroom corner, with the handles against the wall so that I won't look at them and concentrate on other things.
Collecting things costs money, and that was one of the things that I needed to stop doing in order to survive in this great big world. But a trip to an antique store brought back a time when I once collected high school sports items.
Collecting them didn't go over too well for some reason, but I was able to bring in a few things - rescuing them from the warehouse shelves of ebay users from out of state.
One of the first things that I bought was a plastic minature basketball from the late 1960s of Rockford East. Another find was a pennant from Belleville High School, before the high school split into two - making it a unique piece. I have lost track of the basketball, but I eventually donated the Belleville pennant to the new Illinois Basketball Hall of Fame Museum (opening in Danville in 2013).
But my most prized item didn't come from ebay. It came from a friend, who kept a basketball program from his playing days. This was from Limestone High School in the mid-1980s, and on the freshman boys basketball team that season was Jim Thome - yep, the same Jim Thome that has over 600 homeruns.
Programs are a unique find. I have three Sterling High School football programs: against Dixon in 1955 and Ottawa in 1956, and the best one I have is SHS's first football playoff game in history (against Normal in 1974).
What inspired me to write this was a trip to Savanna. My grandparents take me out to dinner for my birthday - and because of commitments we are just doing this now. We ate at Manny's, and afterward we went to an old Opera House that is now an antique shop. The gallery featured items found by American Pickers star Frank Fritz.
That further brought me back to one episode of American Pickers where they found an early liscense plate, made out of rubber. They dug it out of an old barn and eventually sold it to an automobile museum. Bringing things from the collective abyss and into more proper hands was something that fascinated me. It brought me back to when I collected these high school sports items; as I mentioned earlier, taking them from warehouse shelves and bringing them more closer to home. From there, I might just put them into more proper hands.
Also included in this collection of stuff are old jerseys and tournament t-shirts (but such that I have are probably not of value unless truly historical). I still have the cereal box of the 1999 Rock Falls basketball team, as well as a small basketball hoop of the team.
Antique stores may just be yet another stop on my sports travels. The older the item, the better. Oddball things are even better.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Timeline? I'll Give You a Timeline
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2012.32.70
Current Song - Canned Heat (Jamiroquai)
I've noticed that a lot of my friends on Facebook have switched to the new "Timeline" format. Facebook thought this was so great of an idea that they thought about making it mandatory for all of its users. Even if we don't like the concept, we wouldn't have a choice.
I'm one of those holdouts. When I saw the Timeline on several of my friends' profiles, it took quite a while to load on the computer screen. I'm a believer in clarity. Many times, technological madness causes many headaches.
Just the thought of a timeline made me think of a timeline of my entire life - all 26 years of it. Now I'm not one of those Marilu Henner-types with total recall, but for some reason I had an increase state of consciousness sometime in early 1990, right around my Mild Autism diagnosis. Since then, many pieces of memory have been retained in my mind.
One of the first assignments I did for Freshman Humanities class (Mr. Walton) was to create a personal timeline of my life, complete with pictures and everything on posterboard. This was a hard one for me, because I knew so much and didn't know what to put down on on the 2x1 posterboard. When others in class were wondering how to fill up all that space, I was trying to figure out what moments of my life would be left out of the fold.
Inspired by this project, I tried to write an autobiographical history of my entire life. It was done on the computer and I got up to 55 or 56 typed pages until reaching the present at the time. Back then (2001) the predecessor to Facebook, MySpace and MSN was something called ICQ. You used to be able to upload typed documents onto ICQ for others to read.
Of course, MANY, MANY things have happened since writing that autobiography - which, unfortunately, I am unable to find in my files.
If I had a month of absolute free time, I think I would be able to write up an autobiography of myself up to this point.
I wonder if my classmates could write up something similar? Or anyone younger than me, for that matter. Because I spend a lot of time at home with my youngest brother Danny, I sometimes tell him a story from when he was younger. He'll often not remember them. Sometimes, trying to remember your kindergarten teacher and your elementary school librarian's name are difficult to come around.
The key to remembering the many details about your early life is to constantly go back and think about them. I remember quite a few things about attending Pre-School at Wallace, as well as both of my kindergarten classes at Jefferson (I was in a half-day class for part of the year and moved to full-day later on). I have numerous memories from attending grade school at Merrill (I could write no less than 15 pages on gym class alone).
I never wanted to be a school teacher, but I have many friends that are teaching grade school. I often wonder if they think back to their days in the certain grade that they currently teach in. Or if they look at their students and relate them to a classmate of long ago - "he is just like Cody," etc.
Current Song - Canned Heat (Jamiroquai)
I've noticed that a lot of my friends on Facebook have switched to the new "Timeline" format. Facebook thought this was so great of an idea that they thought about making it mandatory for all of its users. Even if we don't like the concept, we wouldn't have a choice.
I'm one of those holdouts. When I saw the Timeline on several of my friends' profiles, it took quite a while to load on the computer screen. I'm a believer in clarity. Many times, technological madness causes many headaches.
Just the thought of a timeline made me think of a timeline of my entire life - all 26 years of it. Now I'm not one of those Marilu Henner-types with total recall, but for some reason I had an increase state of consciousness sometime in early 1990, right around my Mild Autism diagnosis. Since then, many pieces of memory have been retained in my mind.
One of the first assignments I did for Freshman Humanities class (Mr. Walton) was to create a personal timeline of my life, complete with pictures and everything on posterboard. This was a hard one for me, because I knew so much and didn't know what to put down on on the 2x1 posterboard. When others in class were wondering how to fill up all that space, I was trying to figure out what moments of my life would be left out of the fold.
Inspired by this project, I tried to write an autobiographical history of my entire life. It was done on the computer and I got up to 55 or 56 typed pages until reaching the present at the time. Back then (2001) the predecessor to Facebook, MySpace and MSN was something called ICQ. You used to be able to upload typed documents onto ICQ for others to read.
Of course, MANY, MANY things have happened since writing that autobiography - which, unfortunately, I am unable to find in my files.
If I had a month of absolute free time, I think I would be able to write up an autobiography of myself up to this point.
I wonder if my classmates could write up something similar? Or anyone younger than me, for that matter. Because I spend a lot of time at home with my youngest brother Danny, I sometimes tell him a story from when he was younger. He'll often not remember them. Sometimes, trying to remember your kindergarten teacher and your elementary school librarian's name are difficult to come around.
The key to remembering the many details about your early life is to constantly go back and think about them. I remember quite a few things about attending Pre-School at Wallace, as well as both of my kindergarten classes at Jefferson (I was in a half-day class for part of the year and moved to full-day later on). I have numerous memories from attending grade school at Merrill (I could write no less than 15 pages on gym class alone).
I never wanted to be a school teacher, but I have many friends that are teaching grade school. I often wonder if they think back to their days in the certain grade that they currently teach in. Or if they look at their students and relate them to a classmate of long ago - "he is just like Cody," etc.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Perfectionist Car Shopping
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.12.70
Current Song - Virtual Insanity (Jamiroquai)
I am a perfectionist, but you can't tell by the car that I drive.
At age 26, I am on my second car. My first car was handed down to me when I was 18 after my great-grandfather's passing. His car, a 1986 Pontiac Parisienne, lasted just a few months before finally breaking down for good.
I have had my current car for 5 1/2 years - a green 1998 Pontiac Grand Am. You may know the car from its political bumper sticker on the back. The car is 15 years old and has been as far as Cooperstown and as far as the origin of the Mississippi River. I think it's got at least one more trip left in it before exhausting all it can.
Three years ago, I was preparing for a breakdown and saying that its got at least one more year left of life. I still drive it. It's over 200K in miles. It runs fine but has some areas of minor cosmetic damage. So right now, I'm guessing at least by January 2014 it will be time to look for another vehicle. I will have had it for eight years. My family's third car lasted seven years, as did our first van.
But nearly 18 months before wanting to get something different, I am already doing some comparisions and such. My dad did most of the work in getting me my car, and I just liked how it drove and what the color was. Now it'll be up to me to do the math and do the digging.
I'm on an extremely tight budget (again, I don't even have a place of my own to LIVE in), so I'll be asking for the impossible and the improbable. What I can divulge on here is that I'm looking for a small, used truck.
I have a certain price maximum in mind.
I have a certain mileage range in mind.
I'm willing to travel at least 300 miles.
Miles-per-gallon will be a huge factor in a decision.
I will ask tough questions.
And I don't want to draw this out for 72 months, or 72 years.
Again, I'm not looking at buying one immediately. Once I know what's out there, I may be able to bend my price max and mileage range somewhat. Then when the time comes, I will be prepared.
Current Song - Virtual Insanity (Jamiroquai)
I am a perfectionist, but you can't tell by the car that I drive.
At age 26, I am on my second car. My first car was handed down to me when I was 18 after my great-grandfather's passing. His car, a 1986 Pontiac Parisienne, lasted just a few months before finally breaking down for good.
I have had my current car for 5 1/2 years - a green 1998 Pontiac Grand Am. You may know the car from its political bumper sticker on the back. The car is 15 years old and has been as far as Cooperstown and as far as the origin of the Mississippi River. I think it's got at least one more trip left in it before exhausting all it can.
Three years ago, I was preparing for a breakdown and saying that its got at least one more year left of life. I still drive it. It's over 200K in miles. It runs fine but has some areas of minor cosmetic damage. So right now, I'm guessing at least by January 2014 it will be time to look for another vehicle. I will have had it for eight years. My family's third car lasted seven years, as did our first van.
But nearly 18 months before wanting to get something different, I am already doing some comparisions and such. My dad did most of the work in getting me my car, and I just liked how it drove and what the color was. Now it'll be up to me to do the math and do the digging.
I'm on an extremely tight budget (again, I don't even have a place of my own to LIVE in), so I'll be asking for the impossible and the improbable. What I can divulge on here is that I'm looking for a small, used truck.
I have a certain price maximum in mind.
I have a certain mileage range in mind.
I'm willing to travel at least 300 miles.
Miles-per-gallon will be a huge factor in a decision.
I will ask tough questions.
And I don't want to draw this out for 72 months, or 72 years.
Again, I'm not looking at buying one immediately. Once I know what's out there, I may be able to bend my price max and mileage range somewhat. Then when the time comes, I will be prepared.
Friday, July 20, 2012
I'm Not That Interesting Enough to be "Tweeting" - I'm "Boring" Apparently
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.02.70
Current Song - Barefoot on the Beach (Michael Franks)
I have noticed that Twitter is gaining in popularity. However, it just isn't appealing to me.
Probably the main reason is because of my profession. Journalism pretty much means I am expected to write sentences perfectly. So I am less likely to use "text language" and I almost always use capital letters, periods, commas and even semicolons whenever needed. I have a feeling that once I start to type in shorthand, then it will carry into my journalism writings by habit.
I will never understand the use of hashtags (#) and at (@) symbols. They seem like things that have the possibility of carrying over into spoken conversation, just like how people use text language in everyday conversation. I would rather use a system that people both young and OLD can understand, such as normal vocabulary and complete sentences.
Probably the most famous example of all of this is the metric mixup failure of the Mars Climate Orbiter, and the use of conflicting math with metric and english systems.
In addition, the typing of "tweets" on my phone is tedious, since my phone has a querty pad with a "shift" button to get symbols and numbers. The toggling back and forth is ridiculous and time-consuming.
Many sportswriters use twitter to provide updates of games. I find this time-consuming. I also find texting people about scoring updates back and forth to be tedious. I would rather make detailed notes on my notepad for when I have to type up my piece. To sum it up, the more I tweet and text during games, the more my article will suck.
But that's not the biggest reason why I am shying away from Twitter.
The real reason is because ... I am not interesting enough.
I know almost everyone I know thinks I am a boring person. I just know it. I try NOT to be boring around people, but sometimes it just doesn't materialize.
The things I do, the thoughts I think, and the interests that I'm interested in just don't mesh with almost all of the people that I know. Because of this, people find me to be weird. Because my interests and such are different than others, I can't find the gumption to converse and therefore am shy.
The condition that I have (Asperger's) involves a centering around a particular interest. This particular interest, as noted by others, is high school sports. I am so interested in high school sports to the point where I am unable to make steady conversation with those I already know whom also enjoy high school sports. It all has to do with their limits of interest: people from Sterling tend to only be interested in Sterling athletics with small tabs on the rest of the NI Big 12 West Division; people from Rock Falls tend to only be interested their own athletics and the BNC West; and people from both may keep a tab or two on things from across the river.
Whereas my limits of interest are endless.
When talking to someone from Sterling about something high school sports-related, I find myself bringing up examples from schools such as Newark, Boylan, Princeton and Marengo - much to their confusion.
I'm afraid that if I get twitter, I'm just going to be clogging up your news feed with boring thoughts and boring information and boring this and boring that.
Apparently, I already do this with Facebook. Just take a look at my Wall. Do my posts interest others? Rarely.
Below is a video version of Peter Griffin narrating his day, from an episode of Family Guy. If I ever caved in to Twitter, this is what I'd probably be like ...
Current Song - Barefoot on the Beach (Michael Franks)
I have noticed that Twitter is gaining in popularity. However, it just isn't appealing to me.
Probably the main reason is because of my profession. Journalism pretty much means I am expected to write sentences perfectly. So I am less likely to use "text language" and I almost always use capital letters, periods, commas and even semicolons whenever needed. I have a feeling that once I start to type in shorthand, then it will carry into my journalism writings by habit.
I will never understand the use of hashtags (#) and at (@) symbols. They seem like things that have the possibility of carrying over into spoken conversation, just like how people use text language in everyday conversation. I would rather use a system that people both young and OLD can understand, such as normal vocabulary and complete sentences.
Probably the most famous example of all of this is the metric mixup failure of the Mars Climate Orbiter, and the use of conflicting math with metric and english systems.
In addition, the typing of "tweets" on my phone is tedious, since my phone has a querty pad with a "shift" button to get symbols and numbers. The toggling back and forth is ridiculous and time-consuming.
Many sportswriters use twitter to provide updates of games. I find this time-consuming. I also find texting people about scoring updates back and forth to be tedious. I would rather make detailed notes on my notepad for when I have to type up my piece. To sum it up, the more I tweet and text during games, the more my article will suck.
But that's not the biggest reason why I am shying away from Twitter.
The real reason is because ... I am not interesting enough.
I know almost everyone I know thinks I am a boring person. I just know it. I try NOT to be boring around people, but sometimes it just doesn't materialize.
The things I do, the thoughts I think, and the interests that I'm interested in just don't mesh with almost all of the people that I know. Because of this, people find me to be weird. Because my interests and such are different than others, I can't find the gumption to converse and therefore am shy.
The condition that I have (Asperger's) involves a centering around a particular interest. This particular interest, as noted by others, is high school sports. I am so interested in high school sports to the point where I am unable to make steady conversation with those I already know whom also enjoy high school sports. It all has to do with their limits of interest: people from Sterling tend to only be interested in Sterling athletics with small tabs on the rest of the NI Big 12 West Division; people from Rock Falls tend to only be interested their own athletics and the BNC West; and people from both may keep a tab or two on things from across the river.
Whereas my limits of interest are endless.
When talking to someone from Sterling about something high school sports-related, I find myself bringing up examples from schools such as Newark, Boylan, Princeton and Marengo - much to their confusion.
I'm afraid that if I get twitter, I'm just going to be clogging up your news feed with boring thoughts and boring information and boring this and boring that.
Apparently, I already do this with Facebook. Just take a look at my Wall. Do my posts interest others? Rarely.
Below is a video version of Peter Griffin narrating his day, from an episode of Family Guy. If I ever caved in to Twitter, this is what I'd probably be like ...
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
The Cure for My Mental State
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.01.70
Current Song - Circle Of Life (Elton John)
I have this ability to think too far ahead. Call it a protective cushion around me.
You see, I need this cushion in order to survive. Thinking very far ahead makes me analyze what everyone tells me. I don't want anyone to use me or make me look like an idiot. I don't want anyone to make me a pawn for their own good.
This is why I think critically about everything that is spoken to me. This guilty-until-proven-innocent concept of thinking ensures that I survive.
Basically, I know why you are speaking those words to me. I try to find out why you are talking to me, and the overall motive behind it.
Plus, this cushion is there to prevent people from jamming things down my throat. Once your strong words hit my cushion, it slows down and gives me enough time to analyze it before it hits my brain.
Then I'm left with a file in my head that gets added on to with every subsequent word.
You cannot decieve me. You cannot fool me. You cannot make me your pawn for your own good, and toss me aside.
This mental state of mine has ruined relationships between me and other people, and I'm usually getting the last laugh by saying, "you can't fool me."
Here is the dilemma: 1) my way of thinking prevents people from interacting with me. 2) without this way of thinking, I will not survive.
I always dream of a gray area - a life where I don't think ahead so much and still be able to survive.
Here's how the dream goes:
I'm at school. Many people are tired of my line of thinking.
Then they constantly jab at me and my "cushion" at the same time, just like a bunch of spaceships firing at me in unison.
I fight back with everything I have, until my cushion is gone.
As I start to fall down, the jabbing starts to become less and less.
The last words I hear before dying are, "Cody, you will be better off now."
My eyes are shut and I'm just laying there on the ground, dead.
Then as I'm regaining consiousness, I find myself realizing that I'm not in the same place I just was during the fighting. I see nothing but white with fuzzy vision, as if I'm in an all-white room with no walls and no noise. I get up slowly.
I can hear my footsteps as I walk away from where I woke at. As walk further, I see a tiny spec of something that is not white.
I walk closer to that spec and it slowly gets bigger. The closer I get, hearing my footsteps, I find out that it's another human being.
The closer I get, I notice that it's a girl that I know. She is standing there, looking straight at me. I remember those clothes she has on: blue and gold little league all-star attire.
We stare at each other for a few minutes. I notice that she didn't look like the way she did the last time I remembered seeing her when I was alive. She looked different, as if this was a younger version of her.
For a brief moment, I begin to think that this was some sort of time warp.
I know this girl, and I know how old that this girl I'm looking at is. Which "version," I guess, of this girl.
"Welcome home, Cody," she says slowly, with a slight ting of excitement.
I am a bit confused by her words, and I reply by saying her name softly in confusion.
"Where am I? Why are you here?"
She looks at me, smiles, and approaches me slowly. Not taking her eyes off of mine, she slowly puts her arms around me, and then quickly lifts her head toward mine and kisses me on the lips.
A couple of seconds go by when it comes back to me.
"I love you, Cody."
We never let go of each other, and my mind begins to go blank again.
Now I wake up at a familiar place. It is a playground, one that I remember from when I first saw my girl.
My memory becomes fuzzy. All of a sudden I can't remember anything after this time spent in this school.
My life has just started all over again from this point.
"Come on, Cody. I'll walk you inside."
We hold hands as we walk toward the line just outside the school door, waiting to get in.
Along the way, I'm constantly talking and chatting with people like it's really easy to do.
The End
Current Song - Circle Of Life (Elton John)
I have this ability to think too far ahead. Call it a protective cushion around me.
You see, I need this cushion in order to survive. Thinking very far ahead makes me analyze what everyone tells me. I don't want anyone to use me or make me look like an idiot. I don't want anyone to make me a pawn for their own good.
This is why I think critically about everything that is spoken to me. This guilty-until-proven-innocent concept of thinking ensures that I survive.
Basically, I know why you are speaking those words to me. I try to find out why you are talking to me, and the overall motive behind it.
Plus, this cushion is there to prevent people from jamming things down my throat. Once your strong words hit my cushion, it slows down and gives me enough time to analyze it before it hits my brain.
Then I'm left with a file in my head that gets added on to with every subsequent word.
You cannot decieve me. You cannot fool me. You cannot make me your pawn for your own good, and toss me aside.
This mental state of mine has ruined relationships between me and other people, and I'm usually getting the last laugh by saying, "you can't fool me."
Here is the dilemma: 1) my way of thinking prevents people from interacting with me. 2) without this way of thinking, I will not survive.
I always dream of a gray area - a life where I don't think ahead so much and still be able to survive.
Here's how the dream goes:
I'm at school. Many people are tired of my line of thinking.
Then they constantly jab at me and my "cushion" at the same time, just like a bunch of spaceships firing at me in unison.
I fight back with everything I have, until my cushion is gone.
As I start to fall down, the jabbing starts to become less and less.
The last words I hear before dying are, "Cody, you will be better off now."
My eyes are shut and I'm just laying there on the ground, dead.
Then as I'm regaining consiousness, I find myself realizing that I'm not in the same place I just was during the fighting. I see nothing but white with fuzzy vision, as if I'm in an all-white room with no walls and no noise. I get up slowly.
I can hear my footsteps as I walk away from where I woke at. As walk further, I see a tiny spec of something that is not white.
I walk closer to that spec and it slowly gets bigger. The closer I get, hearing my footsteps, I find out that it's another human being.
The closer I get, I notice that it's a girl that I know. She is standing there, looking straight at me. I remember those clothes she has on: blue and gold little league all-star attire.
We stare at each other for a few minutes. I notice that she didn't look like the way she did the last time I remembered seeing her when I was alive. She looked different, as if this was a younger version of her.
For a brief moment, I begin to think that this was some sort of time warp.
I know this girl, and I know how old that this girl I'm looking at is. Which "version," I guess, of this girl.
"Welcome home, Cody," she says slowly, with a slight ting of excitement.
I am a bit confused by her words, and I reply by saying her name softly in confusion.
"Where am I? Why are you here?"
She looks at me, smiles, and approaches me slowly. Not taking her eyes off of mine, she slowly puts her arms around me, and then quickly lifts her head toward mine and kisses me on the lips.
A couple of seconds go by when it comes back to me.
"I love you, Cody."
We never let go of each other, and my mind begins to go blank again.
Now I wake up at a familiar place. It is a playground, one that I remember from when I first saw my girl.
My memory becomes fuzzy. All of a sudden I can't remember anything after this time spent in this school.
My life has just started all over again from this point.
"Come on, Cody. I'll walk you inside."
We hold hands as we walk toward the line just outside the school door, waiting to get in.
Along the way, I'm constantly talking and chatting with people like it's really easy to do.
The End
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
What I Like About Summer
Cutter's Log - Stardate 2102.30.70
Current Song - This Town (OAR)
Summer is always a feel-good month for me.
The prep sports slate is practically non-existant, so it means I get plenty of extra time to do different things.
But perhaps the best thing about summer is that I get to see many of my friends a little more often - these classmates of mine that have moved away and all that coming back for a visit.
Because I'm both so busy and so shy, I use Facebook to keep up with the friends that I went to school with. I get caught up with that's happening with all of them - sort of like a friend-themed personal newspaper, or an old newspaper gossip section.
(It's interesting: Facebook and Twitter's great-great grandparents are those old gossip paragraphs from the turn-of-the-20th century newspapers. "Joseph Blow rode to Yorktown from Tampico on horseback to deliver five bags of flour to H.R. Pufunstuf.")
All I hear is news, however. To me, knowing that my friends are still around and seeing them makes me feel good inside. When you've grown up with the all throughout school, they become a permanent etch in your life. After they're gone, this sort of gives me an empty feeling.You're not used to life without them, and you struggle to accept the fact that they're off doing their own thing.
That's why I like class reunions. Our SHS 2005 met a couple of summers ago. It was great to see everyone they way I remember them. I fet more at home when around them than, say, people I only knew after graduation.
There were a few friends from school that stopped in at Shell when I was working. It was really great to see them again - and they said the same.
***
The more I think about it as I write all of this, it's kind of like saying, "I don't want new friends, I want my current friends." Just like the day I moved from Rock Falls to Sterling, 15 years ago.
Of course, you'll meet plenty of new people along the way, and I did throughout my years as a Challand/SHS student.
However, as more and more times goes on, the value of the friends you've known the longest gets better. The value is even greater if there's consistency in that friendship.
There are friends that I have known for more than 20 years - dating back to my pre-school days at Wallace. This fall, I will have known my friends from Mrs. Kallam's kindergarten class (Jefferson) for 20. This winter, I will have know my friends from Mrs. Hafner's kindergarten class (Jefferson) for 20, including the first person I ever called my best friend - Seth.
All friendships seem to come and drift off over time, but the longer, more consistent and more interactive they are, the better.
No friend should really outweigh another, but the joy of seeing certain people, to me, sometimes is greater than others. We all have that feeling, but just can't find ourselves to admit it.
Current Song - This Town (OAR)
Summer is always a feel-good month for me.
The prep sports slate is practically non-existant, so it means I get plenty of extra time to do different things.
But perhaps the best thing about summer is that I get to see many of my friends a little more often - these classmates of mine that have moved away and all that coming back for a visit.
Because I'm both so busy and so shy, I use Facebook to keep up with the friends that I went to school with. I get caught up with that's happening with all of them - sort of like a friend-themed personal newspaper, or an old newspaper gossip section.
(It's interesting: Facebook and Twitter's great-great grandparents are those old gossip paragraphs from the turn-of-the-20th century newspapers. "Joseph Blow rode to Yorktown from Tampico on horseback to deliver five bags of flour to H.R. Pufunstuf.")
All I hear is news, however. To me, knowing that my friends are still around and seeing them makes me feel good inside. When you've grown up with the all throughout school, they become a permanent etch in your life. After they're gone, this sort of gives me an empty feeling.You're not used to life without them, and you struggle to accept the fact that they're off doing their own thing.
That's why I like class reunions. Our SHS 2005 met a couple of summers ago. It was great to see everyone they way I remember them. I fet more at home when around them than, say, people I only knew after graduation.
There were a few friends from school that stopped in at Shell when I was working. It was really great to see them again - and they said the same.
***
The more I think about it as I write all of this, it's kind of like saying, "I don't want new friends, I want my current friends." Just like the day I moved from Rock Falls to Sterling, 15 years ago.
Of course, you'll meet plenty of new people along the way, and I did throughout my years as a Challand/SHS student.
However, as more and more times goes on, the value of the friends you've known the longest gets better. The value is even greater if there's consistency in that friendship.
There are friends that I have known for more than 20 years - dating back to my pre-school days at Wallace. This fall, I will have known my friends from Mrs. Kallam's kindergarten class (Jefferson) for 20. This winter, I will have know my friends from Mrs. Hafner's kindergarten class (Jefferson) for 20, including the first person I ever called my best friend - Seth.
All friendships seem to come and drift off over time, but the longer, more consistent and more interactive they are, the better.
No friend should really outweigh another, but the joy of seeing certain people, to me, sometimes is greater than others. We all have that feeling, but just can't find ourselves to admit it.
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