Cutter's Log - Final Entry
On April 28, 2005 I gave myself a small birthday preent. Something similar to what I got on April 28, 1998. It was a writing platform. One where I could write to myself and remind myself of things down the road.
The turning-12 present was a hardcover journal. We didn't have a computer back then. Within that journal - which I still have in my attic somewhere - I was able to write down the experiences and memories I had with the first girl I really had a crush on. This was fifth grade. I wrote about the kiss on the cheek. I wrote about the smiles back and forth throughout a certain day. I wrote about an unforgettable field trip to Galena. That and other random fifth-grade memories. That journal became a part of my backburner in sixth grade, and I didn't write in it after that.
The journal kept floating around in my bedroom during high school, unused. One month before high school graduation, I wanted to create a reminder of the steps I took toward adulthood. Only this time, I had access to a computer.
That's when #35's Waste of Space was born.
The number 35 was my football number. The Blog platform was free with the platform that I had used at the time with the Northern Illinois Sports Beat message boards. It had a black background with a geen text box. That lasted until advertising infested that platform, and the move was made to this platform you are looking at today.
This blog was more than about the transitions from adolesence to adulthood. It became a haven for all of the moments when I was down: Being out of work for 7 months, my car accident, my weight loss battles, and my stuggles with connecting with that girlfriend.
Most recently I began writing about overcoming social anxiety. What I have much to improve on, I seem to be getting a little better at coversations, small talk, and consulting other people in person about my most deepest concerns.
I look at it as a theraputic process to get my to open up more.
I've been writing here in place of talking to people. That stops now.
This will be my final post in #35's Waste of Space. It's been a geat eight-year run. But I need to be telling my concerns to others verbally - and not just writing it in here HOPING someone will read it.
To know more about me, you can add me as a friend on Facebook.
Sometimes the pressure to write will come, and I'll do so through Facebook notes.
I don't like to make these things precise, but it goes against the therapy I need in order to open up and communicate more.
Until then, Thank You for all of your support through the years. And I hop to chat with you soon.
Cody
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Monday, October 7, 2013
A Word About Commitment
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.62.80
Current Song - Stone In Love (Journey)
On this Monday afternoon, I wrote a couple of articles for NISB that should have been written last week. One was about the Pecatonica football team, and another was about a golfer from Rockford East.
I put the Pecatonica story up for immediate release, while saving the golfer article for a Friday release. In addition, I have a cross country story to be released on Tuesday.
Due up is a short story on the IHSA's monthly board meeting, as well as another golf article. Those will be written tomorrow afternoon before heading to a cross country event later that day.
Spreading the stories out over a day or two with automated release dates makes it easier for me to spend time on other things, rather than taking a good chunk of the day working on pieces and pieces of articles.
I thought it would be easier for me to set aside a day or two out of the week to devote to the mass writings of articles, maybe three our four at a time, then putting them up on the automated release schedule. That way, I have more days free.
For 10 years I have put in a lot of commitment toward operating a high school sports website. Some say not enough. Some day way too much commitment. The latter is what has been on my mind in the past year or so.
I experienced first hand how such a level of commitment can take time away from things that are important.
***
I remember when the most important thing on my mind (before this sports stuff) was trying to experience the feeling of loving a girl who loved me. This was back in middle school, 12-15 years ago.
Many of my friends that I would sit next to during lunch had that girl that they were "going out with." Since my friends were experiencing this feeling, I wanted to experience it also. As much as I tried, and as much as I showed, that never happened.
Into high school, I was 0-for in all four Homecomings and all four Proms. I never had a girlfriend. Right about the time my sophomore year hit, I was one of the first to engage in a real office job. I had my own office at Prep Sports Online as a sophomore in high school. It wasn't too long after that when I made the decision to turn this high school sports job into the career of mine.
As I was committed more with high school sports, I was less committed toward building relationships with girls and thus engaging in boyfriend-girlfriend acivity. I seemed to always be too busy for a girlfriend. Perhaps that's why I never came close to having one. Perhaps the biggest turnoff about me was that I spent too much time with high school sports, and I was thus going to suck as a boyfriend.
More than a decade has passed since I went to middle school. Many of my classmates are now married with kids. Those who aren't married are either engaged, have a girlfriend/boyfriend, or have dated at least once in the lives.
Me? I'm still at the starting line.
Those classmates whom I can't remember ever having girlfriends in high school (and were in the same boat as myself) are now getting married. They, too, had careers and such and somehow also found the time for a girlfriend.
I'm sitting back thinking about where the heck I went wrong in this whole deal.
I used to think it was because of my deficencies: being overweight, being shy, being Autistic, being quiet, etc. It's really because I've never had time to set aside for relationships.
I mention all of this because recently I met a girl that I really like. In the past 16 years of searching for that feeling of love, this is my closest experience yet. It's made me think back to all of the previous times I came close to have no cigar.
Knowing now that the only way to make good on this opportunity is to cut back on my commitment to sports.
I already made plans to do that over this past summer.
***
If relationships were a ladder, each milestone represents a rung on the ladder. The top is marriage. The bottom is the simple acknowlegement that you two are a couple. I'm still on the floor because I can't quite figure it out.
It's no surprise that I make my feelings known when it comes to not experiencing that feeling of love. Because of this, I think many girls try to put a label on me that I am desperate and am immediately looking to catch up to where my friends are at on that relationship ladder.
The fact is: All I'm looking for is that feeling of having someone I really love really love me in return. This is what many people experience in middle school. That's all I'm looking for right now. And to see where things go from there.
***
I kno that there have been times when I've been in the running when it comes to "do I like Cody, or him?" I don't know who has made me a "finalist" of sorts, but ...
WAIT! Scratch everything!
It seems when I talk relationships, I seem tot think of it rhough my personal benefit and not really theirs. That's not what I want. We've all had "first girlfriends" in our lives, and the longer the wait, we are more likely to get up and celebrate as if we won the World Series. It does absolutely nothing to the one I love.
No, that's not me. I promise that it will not be how I will act.
It seems that no one will know who I'll act when I find my first girlfriend, or what to do, or how I will treat her. That's because I have no paper trail. People like to make assumptions about what I will do and how I will treat her. People think that I will not do a good job based on experience, and by doing so they pretty much cast me out to oblivion to be alone forever. People like to think that since I'm a late-bloomer at all of this, that I will cling onto them when they no longer want me (I would NEVER do that!).
I have to ask myself if the girls I like require a pre-requisite of me having dated previously before any consideration. Does this mean that it's safer for me to date someone who's never dated before?
Either way, I know what I will offer. That is this ...
I PROMISE I WILL
-Not be a freeloader, and will do my part.
-Keep cash money with me at all times when I'm with you, so that you get what you want.
-Cut back my sports commitments to spend more time and dedication to you; making you my new main interest.
-Give my love to you and only you.
-Respect all of your needs and wishes.
-To not just dedicate myself to you, but to your family as well.
-Be there for you when you need it and be a reliable resource for you, always.
-Help make life for you better, and your goals and wishes attainable.
-Not pull a cruel joke on you, but something you'll enjoy.
-Treat your friends with the same respect I treat you.
-Do something with you every week, or every day, and at the same time give you the space you need.
-Not make an ass out of myself, as this would reflect on the both of us - which I don't want.
-Think of things as not just beleficial to me, but for us.
-THINK WE more than THINK ME.
-Maintain a healthier lifestyle, as to not put a burden to you because of the things I like to eat.
-Say "her and I" and not "me and her."
-Devote my income to us, and not just me.
-Let you do your things, if you'll do the same for me.
-Pick up around the house when needed.
-Improve my cooking skills from grilled cheese sandwiches on up.
-Be active.
-Find something new every day to make me love you more.
-Abide by the truth that is "Your body, your rules."
-Abide by the fact that everything I do is done as a representative of us as a couple. As the things I do would reflect on the both of us.
-Learn when you teach me right from wrong, the first time.
-Love you with all my heart.
Current Song - Stone In Love (Journey)
On this Monday afternoon, I wrote a couple of articles for NISB that should have been written last week. One was about the Pecatonica football team, and another was about a golfer from Rockford East.
I put the Pecatonica story up for immediate release, while saving the golfer article for a Friday release. In addition, I have a cross country story to be released on Tuesday.
Due up is a short story on the IHSA's monthly board meeting, as well as another golf article. Those will be written tomorrow afternoon before heading to a cross country event later that day.
Spreading the stories out over a day or two with automated release dates makes it easier for me to spend time on other things, rather than taking a good chunk of the day working on pieces and pieces of articles.
I thought it would be easier for me to set aside a day or two out of the week to devote to the mass writings of articles, maybe three our four at a time, then putting them up on the automated release schedule. That way, I have more days free.
For 10 years I have put in a lot of commitment toward operating a high school sports website. Some say not enough. Some day way too much commitment. The latter is what has been on my mind in the past year or so.
I experienced first hand how such a level of commitment can take time away from things that are important.
***
I remember when the most important thing on my mind (before this sports stuff) was trying to experience the feeling of loving a girl who loved me. This was back in middle school, 12-15 years ago.
Many of my friends that I would sit next to during lunch had that girl that they were "going out with." Since my friends were experiencing this feeling, I wanted to experience it also. As much as I tried, and as much as I showed, that never happened.
Into high school, I was 0-for in all four Homecomings and all four Proms. I never had a girlfriend. Right about the time my sophomore year hit, I was one of the first to engage in a real office job. I had my own office at Prep Sports Online as a sophomore in high school. It wasn't too long after that when I made the decision to turn this high school sports job into the career of mine.
As I was committed more with high school sports, I was less committed toward building relationships with girls and thus engaging in boyfriend-girlfriend acivity. I seemed to always be too busy for a girlfriend. Perhaps that's why I never came close to having one. Perhaps the biggest turnoff about me was that I spent too much time with high school sports, and I was thus going to suck as a boyfriend.
More than a decade has passed since I went to middle school. Many of my classmates are now married with kids. Those who aren't married are either engaged, have a girlfriend/boyfriend, or have dated at least once in the lives.
Me? I'm still at the starting line.
Those classmates whom I can't remember ever having girlfriends in high school (and were in the same boat as myself) are now getting married. They, too, had careers and such and somehow also found the time for a girlfriend.
I'm sitting back thinking about where the heck I went wrong in this whole deal.
I used to think it was because of my deficencies: being overweight, being shy, being Autistic, being quiet, etc. It's really because I've never had time to set aside for relationships.
I mention all of this because recently I met a girl that I really like. In the past 16 years of searching for that feeling of love, this is my closest experience yet. It's made me think back to all of the previous times I came close to have no cigar.
Knowing now that the only way to make good on this opportunity is to cut back on my commitment to sports.
I already made plans to do that over this past summer.
***
If relationships were a ladder, each milestone represents a rung on the ladder. The top is marriage. The bottom is the simple acknowlegement that you two are a couple. I'm still on the floor because I can't quite figure it out.
It's no surprise that I make my feelings known when it comes to not experiencing that feeling of love. Because of this, I think many girls try to put a label on me that I am desperate and am immediately looking to catch up to where my friends are at on that relationship ladder.
The fact is: All I'm looking for is that feeling of having someone I really love really love me in return. This is what many people experience in middle school. That's all I'm looking for right now. And to see where things go from there.
***
I kno that there have been times when I've been in the running when it comes to "do I like Cody, or him?" I don't know who has made me a "finalist" of sorts, but ...
WAIT! Scratch everything!
It seems when I talk relationships, I seem tot think of it rhough my personal benefit and not really theirs. That's not what I want. We've all had "first girlfriends" in our lives, and the longer the wait, we are more likely to get up and celebrate as if we won the World Series. It does absolutely nothing to the one I love.
No, that's not me. I promise that it will not be how I will act.
It seems that no one will know who I'll act when I find my first girlfriend, or what to do, or how I will treat her. That's because I have no paper trail. People like to make assumptions about what I will do and how I will treat her. People think that I will not do a good job based on experience, and by doing so they pretty much cast me out to oblivion to be alone forever. People like to think that since I'm a late-bloomer at all of this, that I will cling onto them when they no longer want me (I would NEVER do that!).
I have to ask myself if the girls I like require a pre-requisite of me having dated previously before any consideration. Does this mean that it's safer for me to date someone who's never dated before?
Either way, I know what I will offer. That is this ...
I PROMISE I WILL
-Not be a freeloader, and will do my part.
-Keep cash money with me at all times when I'm with you, so that you get what you want.
-Cut back my sports commitments to spend more time and dedication to you; making you my new main interest.
-Give my love to you and only you.
-Respect all of your needs and wishes.
-To not just dedicate myself to you, but to your family as well.
-Be there for you when you need it and be a reliable resource for you, always.
-Help make life for you better, and your goals and wishes attainable.
-Not pull a cruel joke on you, but something you'll enjoy.
-Treat your friends with the same respect I treat you.
-Do something with you every week, or every day, and at the same time give you the space you need.
-Not make an ass out of myself, as this would reflect on the both of us - which I don't want.
-Think of things as not just beleficial to me, but for us.
-THINK WE more than THINK ME.
-Maintain a healthier lifestyle, as to not put a burden to you because of the things I like to eat.
-Say "her and I" and not "me and her."
-Devote my income to us, and not just me.
-Let you do your things, if you'll do the same for me.
-Pick up around the house when needed.
-Improve my cooking skills from grilled cheese sandwiches on up.
-Be active.
-Find something new every day to make me love you more.
-Abide by the truth that is "Your body, your rules."
-Abide by the fact that everything I do is done as a representative of us as a couple. As the things I do would reflect on the both of us.
-Learn when you teach me right from wrong, the first time.
-Love you with all my heart.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Sports Becoming a Crumbling Obsession
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.12.90
Current Song - Layla (Derek and the Dominoes)
Yesterday, for the first time that I can remember since covering football games regularly since 2006, I decided to take a Friday night off from the gridiron.
I have had missing weeks since then, but they have almost always been because of an emergency work conflict. Even on the day before my sister got married, I just had to make a trip from Dundee to Elmhurst just to see a football game (I told my parents that I was in Elgin). The only other two times I can remember taking a fall Friday night off was when I chose to cover the Little 10 Conference Volleyball tournaments; something I've been doing for the past two years.
Rain, shine, sick, puking, I was determined to make it to a football game. That was, until yesterday.
Yesterday, I decided to have some fun and try my luck at the Mega Million jackpot. I spent five bucks on five seperate tickets. Two of them were quick picks and three of them were special numbers chosen on personal association. I also played four Pick 3 tickets and one Pick 4 ticket. I could have done all of this before I went to a football game, but I wanted to try something different. I wanted to spread out my purchases over the course of the night.
Aiding in my decision to skip a football game was that my friend Nicci was working at the gas station and some of our regular customers and coffee table mainstays, as well as one of her friends, were also going to be there.
Only one of my tickets hit for $3, and that was the one where Nicci and I picked out half of the numbers. I get $1.50 and she gets $1.50.
Between all of the talking that I did that night, off and on, I had quite the fun. I still had that feeling of Friday fun, but this was a completely different form of it.
In fact, it made me think about many of those Friday nights over the years.
***
Since starting Northern Illinois Sports Beat in 2004, I've pounded plenty of pavement throughout northern Illinois. At my peak a couple of years ago, I was hitting 3-4 games a week. There would be some Saturdays that I would double-dip, such as one Saturday for a baseball game in Richmond and a soccer match in Burlington. There was one Saturday there I even triple-dipped: A 12:30 football game in Lena, a 2:30 volleyball match in Elizabeth, and a 6:00 football game in Lanark. I've gone as far as Chicago and Kankakee to cover games.
I think it is important to note that I go to these games not as a fan, but as a journalist. Someone asked me not too long ago if my obsession was about just sports, or writing about sports. The latter is true. If this was simply a sports obsession, I'd be on the recliner watching the sports channels 24-7 between pros, college and high school. What became simply trying to keep my writing skills fresh after leaving the local newspaper in 2004 turned into searching for that unique story and seeking out unique and different situations.
These searches made me pound so much pavement. I put a geographical restriction on myself, better known as the Northern Illinois Sports Beat coverage area. This allows me to only travel so far without spending so much gas money. Little did I know that I would indeed be spending quite a bit; since every waking moment I wasn't working or sleeping was spent wanting to write about high school sports - and thus seeking out whatever interesting there was to bring to light.
This is the job of a journalist. Problem is, I'm the only one with such borders. One particular week involved a soccer match in Leland, a volleyball match in Annawan, and a football game in Galena. Name someone else who would do this? How about at 25 years old (as I was at the time)?
When I bought my car in January 2007, it had about 117,000 miles on it. I'm approaching 214,000 now. I'm willing to bet that half of those miles was sports stuff. Counting the hours spent on the road is where it gets a little hurtful. Truckers have it pretty bad when it comes to long hours. Hardly anyone my age spends that much time on the road alone.
It's not just on the road driving where things get kind of lonely. I'd say at about 75% of the games that I go to, I don't know anyone else there. This is because I just can't see games in which I have a pretty good idea as to who the winner is going to be. The sensations, to me, are few when I have a very good idea as to the final outcome, and thus they aren't worth seeing for me.
What I just wrote may best be described as elitist. Traveling to "only the best" has earned me some criticism by some sports fans, especially those who think that I should stick to a particular school or schools. After all, they know of my extreme shyness and figure that the best way to deal with that, along with following sports, is to be closest to schools that I know more people from.
The three schools in my Twin City area (Sterling, Rock Falls and Newman) are the top three in which I actually know the most people from. Seems natural. Every time I do something with Geneseo, Kaneland, Morris or Rochelle, there's always a meeting of the message board minds. To a lesser extent with Annawan, Eastland, Morrison and Winnebago. Hinckley-Big Rock is another. Sometimes I tend to gravitate toward these schools when I just cannot decide where to go (in a recent example, seeing Geneseo host Morris in football), because I know there are people that I can meet up with and talk. But I'm careful not to do it too much, as it would lead to a fairness unbalance within the website.
Sometimes I cherish the friendly chit-chat more than I cherish doing my journalism job. I used to think that sports journalism is a lonely job, but almost all of the sports journalists that I cover games with have some sort of local following consisting of a handful of people for each school - whereas I don't have that handful, but a couple. Most times none.
***
I think the very passion and obsession that I have has taken a toll on certain things in my life. Two years ago it was finances. Last year it was health. Now I'm starting to realize that it's time to improve on social life.
I've always wanted to cut back on doing what I do. I guess the thrill of adventure makes me keep on going. Cutting back would make it easier on my finances, time schedule and social life.
I guess I needed that break-through moment that would help me cut back for sure. I've always said that when a particular moment happens in my life, that'll be the time when I will be ready to deconstruct everything that I have built. That particular moment is now at the closest it has come to being a reality. Going broke wasn't it. Hitting 345 pounds wasn't it.
When I reach that moment is when I'll understand the true meaning of why I should scale back and do what's best for me.
I've always had this backup idea if the content portion of NISB were to meet the sunset. The message boards would last for a long time. I think this idea will help me personally, to be real honest.
Current Song - Layla (Derek and the Dominoes)
Yesterday, for the first time that I can remember since covering football games regularly since 2006, I decided to take a Friday night off from the gridiron.
I have had missing weeks since then, but they have almost always been because of an emergency work conflict. Even on the day before my sister got married, I just had to make a trip from Dundee to Elmhurst just to see a football game (I told my parents that I was in Elgin). The only other two times I can remember taking a fall Friday night off was when I chose to cover the Little 10 Conference Volleyball tournaments; something I've been doing for the past two years.
Rain, shine, sick, puking, I was determined to make it to a football game. That was, until yesterday.
Yesterday, I decided to have some fun and try my luck at the Mega Million jackpot. I spent five bucks on five seperate tickets. Two of them were quick picks and three of them were special numbers chosen on personal association. I also played four Pick 3 tickets and one Pick 4 ticket. I could have done all of this before I went to a football game, but I wanted to try something different. I wanted to spread out my purchases over the course of the night.
Aiding in my decision to skip a football game was that my friend Nicci was working at the gas station and some of our regular customers and coffee table mainstays, as well as one of her friends, were also going to be there.
Only one of my tickets hit for $3, and that was the one where Nicci and I picked out half of the numbers. I get $1.50 and she gets $1.50.
Between all of the talking that I did that night, off and on, I had quite the fun. I still had that feeling of Friday fun, but this was a completely different form of it.
In fact, it made me think about many of those Friday nights over the years.
***
Since starting Northern Illinois Sports Beat in 2004, I've pounded plenty of pavement throughout northern Illinois. At my peak a couple of years ago, I was hitting 3-4 games a week. There would be some Saturdays that I would double-dip, such as one Saturday for a baseball game in Richmond and a soccer match in Burlington. There was one Saturday there I even triple-dipped: A 12:30 football game in Lena, a 2:30 volleyball match in Elizabeth, and a 6:00 football game in Lanark. I've gone as far as Chicago and Kankakee to cover games.
I think it is important to note that I go to these games not as a fan, but as a journalist. Someone asked me not too long ago if my obsession was about just sports, or writing about sports. The latter is true. If this was simply a sports obsession, I'd be on the recliner watching the sports channels 24-7 between pros, college and high school. What became simply trying to keep my writing skills fresh after leaving the local newspaper in 2004 turned into searching for that unique story and seeking out unique and different situations.
These searches made me pound so much pavement. I put a geographical restriction on myself, better known as the Northern Illinois Sports Beat coverage area. This allows me to only travel so far without spending so much gas money. Little did I know that I would indeed be spending quite a bit; since every waking moment I wasn't working or sleeping was spent wanting to write about high school sports - and thus seeking out whatever interesting there was to bring to light.
This is the job of a journalist. Problem is, I'm the only one with such borders. One particular week involved a soccer match in Leland, a volleyball match in Annawan, and a football game in Galena. Name someone else who would do this? How about at 25 years old (as I was at the time)?
When I bought my car in January 2007, it had about 117,000 miles on it. I'm approaching 214,000 now. I'm willing to bet that half of those miles was sports stuff. Counting the hours spent on the road is where it gets a little hurtful. Truckers have it pretty bad when it comes to long hours. Hardly anyone my age spends that much time on the road alone.
It's not just on the road driving where things get kind of lonely. I'd say at about 75% of the games that I go to, I don't know anyone else there. This is because I just can't see games in which I have a pretty good idea as to who the winner is going to be. The sensations, to me, are few when I have a very good idea as to the final outcome, and thus they aren't worth seeing for me.
What I just wrote may best be described as elitist. Traveling to "only the best" has earned me some criticism by some sports fans, especially those who think that I should stick to a particular school or schools. After all, they know of my extreme shyness and figure that the best way to deal with that, along with following sports, is to be closest to schools that I know more people from.
The three schools in my Twin City area (Sterling, Rock Falls and Newman) are the top three in which I actually know the most people from. Seems natural. Every time I do something with Geneseo, Kaneland, Morris or Rochelle, there's always a meeting of the message board minds. To a lesser extent with Annawan, Eastland, Morrison and Winnebago. Hinckley-Big Rock is another. Sometimes I tend to gravitate toward these schools when I just cannot decide where to go (in a recent example, seeing Geneseo host Morris in football), because I know there are people that I can meet up with and talk. But I'm careful not to do it too much, as it would lead to a fairness unbalance within the website.
Sometimes I cherish the friendly chit-chat more than I cherish doing my journalism job. I used to think that sports journalism is a lonely job, but almost all of the sports journalists that I cover games with have some sort of local following consisting of a handful of people for each school - whereas I don't have that handful, but a couple. Most times none.
***
I think the very passion and obsession that I have has taken a toll on certain things in my life. Two years ago it was finances. Last year it was health. Now I'm starting to realize that it's time to improve on social life.
I've always wanted to cut back on doing what I do. I guess the thrill of adventure makes me keep on going. Cutting back would make it easier on my finances, time schedule and social life.
I guess I needed that break-through moment that would help me cut back for sure. I've always said that when a particular moment happens in my life, that'll be the time when I will be ready to deconstruct everything that I have built. That particular moment is now at the closest it has come to being a reality. Going broke wasn't it. Hitting 345 pounds wasn't it.
When I reach that moment is when I'll understand the true meaning of why I should scale back and do what's best for me.
I've always had this backup idea if the content portion of NISB were to meet the sunset. The message boards would last for a long time. I think this idea will help me personally, to be real honest.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Poetic Vibe
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.31.80
Current Song - Across The Universe (The Beatles)
I'm about to begin my 11th high school sports season as someone who writes a lot of words and paragraphs. I have never considered myself a creative writer, despite taking a college class of that name at Sauk.
Creating writing (English 270) was a prerequisite for my Mass Communication degree at SVCC. I took it in the spring of 2008. The number 270 represented the highest-level English course offered by the college. All I had to offer to everyone were the many, many words and sentences that I had put forth as a high school sports journalist. I knew all about Associated Press style, but nothing about poetic and short story style.
Somewhere in my attic is a folder of my class portfolio, containing what I chose as my five best works in the class. These were re-tooled versions of original drafts. I really sucked in that class, as my portfolio grade boosted by percentage UP to a 67%. For whatever reason unknown to me, I was given a C- for the class. These works were nothing more than stuff that I just haphazardly thought of just to try to get the best grade possible.
Some short story about a boring guy named Esmera Kuumb shopping at a mall during Christmas comes to mind. Huh? Then there was some poem that had a stanza about Kewanee's indecision for a conference affiliation. Huh? There might have been another poem in there.
Either way, these are NOT any of my best works. If anything, I thought I was going to score the highest on the poetry assignments. After all, this was the only class material that I had at least SOME experience in.
Before I was able to enjoy putting words and paragraphs together, I enjoyed putting words in short sentences together. The rhyming scheme of a poem always fascinated me. It just so happened that one day I fell in love with a girl in middle school and certain complimentive words were just flowing in my mind.
I remember the scene: I was bored while watching one of Sterling High School's junior varsity football games at Roscoe Eades Stadium. Instead of the football game, this girl kept bouncing around in my mind. It got to the point where I needed to be alone for a little while. I went underneath the bleachers and found a large padded thing to lie on. Staring up at the bleachers, these complimentive words (pretty, beautiful, lovely, wonderful) flew all over. Rather than just flinging these words randomly in showing my love for her, I thought the most perfect way for an 8th grader (2001) to show it was through poetry (as flowers the year before apparently didn't work).
Through the night I carefully constructed the sentences together, and when I got home that night I quickly wrote down what I remembered. Reading it, editing it, and posting it online for all of my friends to see turned out to be a pretty good idea. After all, I didn't know anyone else in my class that wrote ANY poem whatsoever. This poem went without a name for maybe a year before I thought that it was a good idea to name it; in case a book was in the works.
Between the ages of 18-22, I found myself writing more and more poems. Around this time, I was trying to discover what it was like to be in love with a girl and things like that. It was at this time when I bought a blank journal book from Borders to put these poems in.
These poems had a lot to do with my personal struggles with finding true love and engaging in friendships. When my mind couldn't relieve itself of the girl I liked, I would pull out the Poem Book and start writing.
I stopped writing for a while until about a year ago. I had met this amazing woman that I couldn't get my mind off of. She was one of those in which I knew I had ZERO chance at. Pulling an anvil out of a hat wasn't going to make all of this happen. In addition, there were some vast differences between her and I. I think the frustration of all of this led me to penning a poem about her and the fact that I just could not win her love.
Since I moved into my own home, I have had plenty of time to think about the difficulties that bothered me with love. All of the missed opportunities. All of the girls I overlooked. All of the mistakes that I made. I had stopped writing in the book for five years. Since the fall of 2012, I have written four.
My losing steak is still active. The anger of that and the hardships that I had to endure in several situations just made me write some more. I wrote two poems this month, and another one may be in the works soon.
Speaking of anger, this blue-colored Poem Book of mine has a title. It's called "My Anger." I came up with that title a few years ago. Come to think of it, I am still angry about the mistakes that I had made when trying to find true love. In addition to the anger that builds every waking moment when I cannot experience it.
I have about 1/3rd of the book completed. At last count there were 38 poems in the book, of which only 10 or so that I am proud of right now. The others were messed-up junk.
So much for creative writing class. Counting creative writing class, I have penned 40 poems. One of which is incomplete (and probably will never be finished). Two poems have the girl's name as the title. One is a bad rap song. One contains nothing more than an ellipse. Another is a mockery of a Gertrude Stein poem. Just many horrible, God-awful pieces of crap. As mentioned, I'm only proud of about 10 of them, including all five of those I've written since 2012.
I guess time and experience makes a poet's ability better.
(Link to a past entry called "Love Through The Written Word," which relates to this one.)
Current Song - Across The Universe (The Beatles)
I'm about to begin my 11th high school sports season as someone who writes a lot of words and paragraphs. I have never considered myself a creative writer, despite taking a college class of that name at Sauk.
Creating writing (English 270) was a prerequisite for my Mass Communication degree at SVCC. I took it in the spring of 2008. The number 270 represented the highest-level English course offered by the college. All I had to offer to everyone were the many, many words and sentences that I had put forth as a high school sports journalist. I knew all about Associated Press style, but nothing about poetic and short story style.
Somewhere in my attic is a folder of my class portfolio, containing what I chose as my five best works in the class. These were re-tooled versions of original drafts. I really sucked in that class, as my portfolio grade boosted by percentage UP to a 67%. For whatever reason unknown to me, I was given a C- for the class. These works were nothing more than stuff that I just haphazardly thought of just to try to get the best grade possible.
Some short story about a boring guy named Esmera Kuumb shopping at a mall during Christmas comes to mind. Huh? Then there was some poem that had a stanza about Kewanee's indecision for a conference affiliation. Huh? There might have been another poem in there.
Either way, these are NOT any of my best works. If anything, I thought I was going to score the highest on the poetry assignments. After all, this was the only class material that I had at least SOME experience in.
Before I was able to enjoy putting words and paragraphs together, I enjoyed putting words in short sentences together. The rhyming scheme of a poem always fascinated me. It just so happened that one day I fell in love with a girl in middle school and certain complimentive words were just flowing in my mind.
I remember the scene: I was bored while watching one of Sterling High School's junior varsity football games at Roscoe Eades Stadium. Instead of the football game, this girl kept bouncing around in my mind. It got to the point where I needed to be alone for a little while. I went underneath the bleachers and found a large padded thing to lie on. Staring up at the bleachers, these complimentive words (pretty, beautiful, lovely, wonderful) flew all over. Rather than just flinging these words randomly in showing my love for her, I thought the most perfect way for an 8th grader (2001) to show it was through poetry (as flowers the year before apparently didn't work).
Through the night I carefully constructed the sentences together, and when I got home that night I quickly wrote down what I remembered. Reading it, editing it, and posting it online for all of my friends to see turned out to be a pretty good idea. After all, I didn't know anyone else in my class that wrote ANY poem whatsoever. This poem went without a name for maybe a year before I thought that it was a good idea to name it; in case a book was in the works.
Between the ages of 18-22, I found myself writing more and more poems. Around this time, I was trying to discover what it was like to be in love with a girl and things like that. It was at this time when I bought a blank journal book from Borders to put these poems in.
These poems had a lot to do with my personal struggles with finding true love and engaging in friendships. When my mind couldn't relieve itself of the girl I liked, I would pull out the Poem Book and start writing.
I stopped writing for a while until about a year ago. I had met this amazing woman that I couldn't get my mind off of. She was one of those in which I knew I had ZERO chance at. Pulling an anvil out of a hat wasn't going to make all of this happen. In addition, there were some vast differences between her and I. I think the frustration of all of this led me to penning a poem about her and the fact that I just could not win her love.
Since I moved into my own home, I have had plenty of time to think about the difficulties that bothered me with love. All of the missed opportunities. All of the girls I overlooked. All of the mistakes that I made. I had stopped writing in the book for five years. Since the fall of 2012, I have written four.
My losing steak is still active. The anger of that and the hardships that I had to endure in several situations just made me write some more. I wrote two poems this month, and another one may be in the works soon.
Speaking of anger, this blue-colored Poem Book of mine has a title. It's called "My Anger." I came up with that title a few years ago. Come to think of it, I am still angry about the mistakes that I had made when trying to find true love. In addition to the anger that builds every waking moment when I cannot experience it.
I have about 1/3rd of the book completed. At last count there were 38 poems in the book, of which only 10 or so that I am proud of right now. The others were messed-up junk.
So much for creative writing class. Counting creative writing class, I have penned 40 poems. One of which is incomplete (and probably will never be finished). Two poems have the girl's name as the title. One is a bad rap song. One contains nothing more than an ellipse. Another is a mockery of a Gertrude Stein poem. Just many horrible, God-awful pieces of crap. As mentioned, I'm only proud of about 10 of them, including all five of those I've written since 2012.
I guess time and experience makes a poet's ability better.
(Link to a past entry called "Love Through The Written Word," which relates to this one.)
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Filling An Empty Heart --- Part III
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.42.70
Current Song - Treasure (Bruno Mars)
Previous series entries: Filling An Empty Heart --- Filling An Empty Heart (Part I) --- Filling An Empty Heart (Part II)
It has been about two months since I last strolled on over to the bench at 14th Avenue Park at night. I would go over there, stare at the moon and talk to God about fulfilling one of life's most cherished feelings. The one that just hasn't happened yet.
I last left wanting to find a way to strengthen and maintain friendships. Since then I'd like to think that I have a new friend in the mix. Wait, I do. It's a woman.
With this woman, I have been able to snap a couple of long streaks: I hadn't been invited over for a cookout or a gathering at someone's place in eight years (and outside of graduation parties, in about 16 years). I hadn't made my way over to someone's house on my own accord in about 14 years. A girl hadn't hugged me on her own accord in about eight years, I think.
The cookout was special because she had only invited a FEW of her friends over, and I was one of them.
She had a bonfire at her place. Her and a few of her friends. She posted on Facebook a message saying "who else wants to join?" or something like that. I decided to take it upon myself to head over there. There was something I wanted to tell her (a matter of concern), and it turned into a great gathering. When she noticed that I had arrived, there was this inital state of confusion - but that was followed quickly by a hand-across-the-shoulder feeling. I answered with one of my own.
Courage, huh?
It's weird that I only met her just a couple of days before my first trip to the park bench to talk to God about this kind of stuff.
All I can do is keep preaching all things positive. I am a nice person. I am a gentle person. I know what respect is. She has given me quite a bit in my life, and I feel that I can only thank her by doing several things for her.
I love her. I really do.
Of course there are many obstacles in the way. That's the kind of thinking that goes with wanting to plow my way toward a relationship. But you just CANNOT plow your way into a relationship.
I'm not going to as far as to say "I want a relationship with her," but rather, "let's see where this goes and make a decision afterward." Do I really want one with her? Sure. Am I going to force it? No.
I think back to my 7th grade crush and the several large leaps that I took that pretty much wound up scaring her. I also think back to the girl that liked me when I was a freshman, and how that "relationship" never worked out because she was jumping way too far over me. You learn from your mistakes, and I intend to do just that in this case.
When it comes to interests, the friendship between her and I don't quite rank among those of other girls that I've liked in the past. It used to be that I wouldn't think about wanting to try something new. However, this is something that I'm sort of willing to learn all about.
I love her. I really do.
Keep on keeping on ...
Current Song - Treasure (Bruno Mars)
Previous series entries: Filling An Empty Heart --- Filling An Empty Heart (Part I) --- Filling An Empty Heart (Part II)
It has been about two months since I last strolled on over to the bench at 14th Avenue Park at night. I would go over there, stare at the moon and talk to God about fulfilling one of life's most cherished feelings. The one that just hasn't happened yet.
I last left wanting to find a way to strengthen and maintain friendships. Since then I'd like to think that I have a new friend in the mix. Wait, I do. It's a woman.
With this woman, I have been able to snap a couple of long streaks: I hadn't been invited over for a cookout or a gathering at someone's place in eight years (and outside of graduation parties, in about 16 years). I hadn't made my way over to someone's house on my own accord in about 14 years. A girl hadn't hugged me on her own accord in about eight years, I think.
The cookout was special because she had only invited a FEW of her friends over, and I was one of them.
She had a bonfire at her place. Her and a few of her friends. She posted on Facebook a message saying "who else wants to join?" or something like that. I decided to take it upon myself to head over there. There was something I wanted to tell her (a matter of concern), and it turned into a great gathering. When she noticed that I had arrived, there was this inital state of confusion - but that was followed quickly by a hand-across-the-shoulder feeling. I answered with one of my own.
Courage, huh?
It's weird that I only met her just a couple of days before my first trip to the park bench to talk to God about this kind of stuff.
All I can do is keep preaching all things positive. I am a nice person. I am a gentle person. I know what respect is. She has given me quite a bit in my life, and I feel that I can only thank her by doing several things for her.
I love her. I really do.
Of course there are many obstacles in the way. That's the kind of thinking that goes with wanting to plow my way toward a relationship. But you just CANNOT plow your way into a relationship.
I'm not going to as far as to say "I want a relationship with her," but rather, "let's see where this goes and make a decision afterward." Do I really want one with her? Sure. Am I going to force it? No.
I think back to my 7th grade crush and the several large leaps that I took that pretty much wound up scaring her. I also think back to the girl that liked me when I was a freshman, and how that "relationship" never worked out because she was jumping way too far over me. You learn from your mistakes, and I intend to do just that in this case.
When it comes to interests, the friendship between her and I don't quite rank among those of other girls that I've liked in the past. It used to be that I wouldn't think about wanting to try something new. However, this is something that I'm sort of willing to learn all about.
I love her. I really do.
Keep on keeping on ...
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Some Things Better Off Unwritten
Cutter's Log - Special Entry
When I started #35's Waste of Space in April 2005, it was pretty much a public platform for venting about whatever bugged me. I was about to graduate from high school, and the Blog's purpose was to also document life as an adult.
Documenting this growing-up process involved writing about my profession of journalism, my academic struggles, my Autism, my work experiences, and perhaps more prominently my love life. Sprinkled in the mix were other things that had nothing to do with me, but about typical "blog" items such as opinions on certain subjects (as opposed to this being a "journal" of sorts).
When I started this Blog, there weren't too many people I could share the sensitive side of things with. In fact, there weren't any at all. I was simply too nervous to come up front to people personally about things such as my love life. These people also meant my family, whom one would think would be the FIRST place to go to in matters such as that. I didn't have any true "friend" whom was commonplace around me to share such feelings to.
So I pretty much wrote in this Blog hoping that someone out there somewhere would read it and discuss these things with me. I've had plenty of feedback when it comes to the minor subjects, as well as the typical offering, on here.
The productivity of this Blog slowed down around this past April.
I was going pretty well in my diet when I felt a feeling that I had not felt in a long time: Some girl was meaning a lot to me. For the first time in this Blog's existance, there was that someone whom I felt like I could string up something with to promote this from an acquaintanceship to a friendship, and ultimately to a relationship.
This girl made me want to seriously reconsider relearning the game of love. So I thought and studied long and hard about it. I couldn't stop thinking about her and how I wanted to approach this during my camping trip in late April.
Eventually this girl kind of drifted away in my mind, but she was the one that made me want to know what all of this was like.
On the Monday I came back from the camping trip, I first laid eyes upon the girl I like at the moment.
Scratch that -- The girl I LOVE at the moment. She eventually became that after a little while.
With her, I have experienced feelings that I have not felt since Amber fooled around with me in 5th grade. That was 16 years ago. And then another drought was broken: I went to her house for a visit. For 16 long years, I had NEVER been able to accomplish so much with anyone than I have with this girl in two months.
With that being said, I am at a critical point right now.
I have used this Blog to share my personal experiences about things, as well as the challenges that my life presents to the Autistic person that is me.
However, I am at a point right now where I feel that it is wise to NOT publicly share my experiences in dealing with this momentous feeling of love. I feel that sharing them will ultimately ruin whatever I have accomplished with her (read: she could read all of this and find it gross).
Devoted readers of my Blog know that all I want is to find happiness, and that I'd rather share it through love. I am working on making this happening right now. However, I feel it is best to keep these problems, issues, obstacles, conversations, etc. to those that I know well, such as my family.
If it is all a failure, of course I'll be writing about these experiences after-the-fact. If it is all an official reality, I'll make the announcement.
For now, though, I am documenting this journey in my head and sharing it carefully. This journey is something that I need to try to accomplish on my own if at all possible, and I will give it my all to make sure my dreams come true.
So if I don't have too much to write about on here after today, now you'll know why.
I just hope for the best.
When I started #35's Waste of Space in April 2005, it was pretty much a public platform for venting about whatever bugged me. I was about to graduate from high school, and the Blog's purpose was to also document life as an adult.
Documenting this growing-up process involved writing about my profession of journalism, my academic struggles, my Autism, my work experiences, and perhaps more prominently my love life. Sprinkled in the mix were other things that had nothing to do with me, but about typical "blog" items such as opinions on certain subjects (as opposed to this being a "journal" of sorts).
When I started this Blog, there weren't too many people I could share the sensitive side of things with. In fact, there weren't any at all. I was simply too nervous to come up front to people personally about things such as my love life. These people also meant my family, whom one would think would be the FIRST place to go to in matters such as that. I didn't have any true "friend" whom was commonplace around me to share such feelings to.
So I pretty much wrote in this Blog hoping that someone out there somewhere would read it and discuss these things with me. I've had plenty of feedback when it comes to the minor subjects, as well as the typical offering, on here.
The productivity of this Blog slowed down around this past April.
I was going pretty well in my diet when I felt a feeling that I had not felt in a long time: Some girl was meaning a lot to me. For the first time in this Blog's existance, there was that someone whom I felt like I could string up something with to promote this from an acquaintanceship to a friendship, and ultimately to a relationship.
This girl made me want to seriously reconsider relearning the game of love. So I thought and studied long and hard about it. I couldn't stop thinking about her and how I wanted to approach this during my camping trip in late April.
Eventually this girl kind of drifted away in my mind, but she was the one that made me want to know what all of this was like.
On the Monday I came back from the camping trip, I first laid eyes upon the girl I like at the moment.
Scratch that -- The girl I LOVE at the moment. She eventually became that after a little while.
With her, I have experienced feelings that I have not felt since Amber fooled around with me in 5th grade. That was 16 years ago. And then another drought was broken: I went to her house for a visit. For 16 long years, I had NEVER been able to accomplish so much with anyone than I have with this girl in two months.
With that being said, I am at a critical point right now.
I have used this Blog to share my personal experiences about things, as well as the challenges that my life presents to the Autistic person that is me.
However, I am at a point right now where I feel that it is wise to NOT publicly share my experiences in dealing with this momentous feeling of love. I feel that sharing them will ultimately ruin whatever I have accomplished with her (read: she could read all of this and find it gross).
Devoted readers of my Blog know that all I want is to find happiness, and that I'd rather share it through love. I am working on making this happening right now. However, I feel it is best to keep these problems, issues, obstacles, conversations, etc. to those that I know well, such as my family.
If it is all a failure, of course I'll be writing about these experiences after-the-fact. If it is all an official reality, I'll make the announcement.
For now, though, I am documenting this journey in my head and sharing it carefully. This journey is something that I need to try to accomplish on my own if at all possible, and I will give it my all to make sure my dreams come true.
So if I don't have too much to write about on here after today, now you'll know why.
I just hope for the best.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Restoring What Was Once Mine
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.70.70
Current Song - Sweet Lullaby (Deep Forest)
Two books of my 27-year life exist. The turning point is sometime in 1997.
Before that, there was a sort of magic that existed in me. One that made me able to get along with just about anyone, and have so much fun doing it. I could run around and talk. Given the fact that I had Asperger's, which is meant to make socialization extremely challenging, the environment around me was able to swat that away.
Then when we had to leave that environment, the challenges were just too much. I acted like a sitting duck pretty much, with extreme shyness becoming my undoing within the social circles. It wasn't completely destroyed, but there wasn't that magic I once had.
For 16 years, I felt like that socialization magic I once had was sealed and buried somewhere.
When I was down, I'd try to go back and find that magic once again. That involved crossing the bridge.
***
In order to give you an idea of what my better times were like, I'd have to describe my old neighborhood.
I lived at 415 3rd Avenue in Rock Falls. The house was on the northwest corner of the intersection of 3rd Avenue and West 5th Street.
West 5th was a semi-busy street (and I think is considered part of a county highway). 3rd Avenue was covered with tall trees, with a mix of older, two-story frame or brick houses.
But what made the neighborhood special was all of the kids that ran around it.
On the 400 block of 3rd Avenue alone there were 4 Cutters, 2 Smiths, 3 Williams, 2 Risleys, 3 Limonds and 3 Mattoxes = 17. At any given time between me and Michael, there was at least one neighborhood kid over at our place every day it seemed like. Smiths and Williams moved away before we did in 1997. In my class alone there was me, Jared, Stephanie Risley and Mason Mattox.
Going to the school to play wasn't much of a possibility when you had at least 20 kids around you at any given time, thus I didn't always play there. All of that is also not factoring in my bikerides to other friends's houses.
I had a very open backyard with only a couple of trees along 5th Street and a garage at the alley, which made for a great backyard baseball place. The alley served as a central artery of sorts between all of our backyards (including Hay's, Fragd's and Claudin's south of us), as there were a couple of houses that had no kids (and thus didn't cross those backyards). The alley did a little uphill as it let out on 4th Street, and that was where I'd make my way to and from the 1st and 10 sports shop near 2nd and 2nd.
Next door to Pinkstons (north of) is a larger house that served as apartments ("Home With a Heart" I think it was called). It had a larger yard which was covered by a low tree, and that served as a cut-across to 2nd Avenue. From Pinkston's garage to the 2nd Avenue sidewalk was a stone wall that was flat across the top. I used to walk on it and run down the edge where the flat top curved downward to the sidewalk.
Perhaps one of the hot spots on our block was Hardy's basketball hoop between Berogan's and Pinkston's. It sat along the alley and stood on a pole. We'd play with it when his friends (he was much older) weren't there. When baseball or basketball wasn't the thing, it was either the Sega Genesis or the Super Nintendo.
I also think of of the things that made this neighborhood a little closer than most was that most of us were not allowed to cross the extremely-busy 1st Avenue. I would cross it, but only to get my parents items from White Hen Pantry (later Grand Pantry). This kind of bounded most of us and we become closer that way.
It was really a great environment to grow up in.
I had three classmates within houses from me in Rock Falls (Jared, Stephanie and Mason), plus the Nance kids not too far away on 4th Avenue. Langley's (Dennis) was two blocks away, Davis's (Brendyn) was two blocks away, Wade's (Ashley) was two blocks away. Insley's (Dan) was three blocks away, and Yenney's (Keelin) was three blocks away.
When I moved to Sterling, the nearest classmate to me was three blocks away (Sam Snitchler), with Sierra Skaff not too far away at three blocks away. Natasha Stewart and Stephanie Carter were five blocks away. The nearest male classmate was Brandon Frey (only for a little while, and five blocks away), and then Mo Spatz (six blocks). Later on, Rick Stone lived in (again, only for a little while) the same house Brandon once lived in
Needless to say, I was pretty much isolated from everyone else. The same couldn't be said of my younger brothers. It just wasn't the same for me, and I kind of felt lonely.
***
Not too long ago, I made a visit to a friend's house in the southwest side of Rock Falls near the middle school. It was late, about 10 p.m., and all of her kids were still awake and playing in the front yard. Me, her and her boyfriend were trying to fix her car at the same time with all of these kids running around. Then came a couple of neighborhood kids over to play, and one asked to spend the night.
Five kids between the ages of 3 and 12, plus a little dog, were all over the front yard late at night. At one point, we got out some baby power to sprinkle on the belt to make sure it was alright. Then the kids got into it and it was all over us adults. She was throwing some at her kids, and they were throwing some at her.
It was about 1 a.m. when it was all said and done. I couldn't help but think of my days back on 3rd Avenue seeing all of this. I wound up doing more reminiscing than working on the car to be honest.
This was my second trip to her place in the past few days. The first was for a 4th of July bonfire in which we later threw spray cans into the fire to create some loud booms. It was 4-5 in the morning when we did all of that, and waking up the neighbors in the process.
When I sat around the others in front of the bonfire, I could only speak in concurrences ("sure," "yeah," "I think so too.") and not really draw out a whole topic of conversation. I only knew one other person there, and that is a clerk from the Rt. 30 Shell station. So that kind of helped me a little bit.
I actually crashed that bonfire. She made a call for people to come on over to her place, and I showed up. I'm the last person she probably expected to come over. Normally I wouldn't do this, as my shyness which had progressed through the years would prevent me from it all. But I did want to talk to her about something, thus my reason for actually going over there and thus smashing the shynbess barrier.
Then a few days later, she finds out that I'm bored and invites me over. I come back home with clothes dotted in baby powder.
In 16 years at Sterling, I don't think I've ever had a social spurt quite like this one. I think it is important to say that all of this happened at Rock Falls. I can only hope it will continue. She invited me to come along with her, her boyfriend and her kids to the fireworks in Walnut. But I have to work tonight.
By the way, she is one of my co-workers. Only two or three of them before have been able to get me to continually yap at them while working.
This is awesome. It really is.
Perhaps if these things continue, I'll be able to regain the social abilities that I once had before 16 years ago. It'll be like finding my inner Rock Falls kid in me once again - only a grown-up, adult version of it as if I went to school at RFMS and RFHS in an alternate timeline.
Keep on keepin on!
Current Song - Sweet Lullaby (Deep Forest)
Two books of my 27-year life exist. The turning point is sometime in 1997.
Before that, there was a sort of magic that existed in me. One that made me able to get along with just about anyone, and have so much fun doing it. I could run around and talk. Given the fact that I had Asperger's, which is meant to make socialization extremely challenging, the environment around me was able to swat that away.
Then when we had to leave that environment, the challenges were just too much. I acted like a sitting duck pretty much, with extreme shyness becoming my undoing within the social circles. It wasn't completely destroyed, but there wasn't that magic I once had.
For 16 years, I felt like that socialization magic I once had was sealed and buried somewhere.
When I was down, I'd try to go back and find that magic once again. That involved crossing the bridge.
***
In order to give you an idea of what my better times were like, I'd have to describe my old neighborhood.
I lived at 415 3rd Avenue in Rock Falls. The house was on the northwest corner of the intersection of 3rd Avenue and West 5th Street.
West 5th was a semi-busy street (and I think is considered part of a county highway). 3rd Avenue was covered with tall trees, with a mix of older, two-story frame or brick houses.
But what made the neighborhood special was all of the kids that ran around it.
On the 400 block of 3rd Avenue alone there were 4 Cutters, 2 Smiths, 3 Williams, 2 Risleys, 3 Limonds and 3 Mattoxes = 17. At any given time between me and Michael, there was at least one neighborhood kid over at our place every day it seemed like. Smiths and Williams moved away before we did in 1997. In my class alone there was me, Jared, Stephanie Risley and Mason Mattox.
Going to the school to play wasn't much of a possibility when you had at least 20 kids around you at any given time, thus I didn't always play there. All of that is also not factoring in my bikerides to other friends's houses.
I had a very open backyard with only a couple of trees along 5th Street and a garage at the alley, which made for a great backyard baseball place. The alley served as a central artery of sorts between all of our backyards (including Hay's, Fragd's and Claudin's south of us), as there were a couple of houses that had no kids (and thus didn't cross those backyards). The alley did a little uphill as it let out on 4th Street, and that was where I'd make my way to and from the 1st and 10 sports shop near 2nd and 2nd.
Next door to Pinkstons (north of) is a larger house that served as apartments ("Home With a Heart" I think it was called). It had a larger yard which was covered by a low tree, and that served as a cut-across to 2nd Avenue. From Pinkston's garage to the 2nd Avenue sidewalk was a stone wall that was flat across the top. I used to walk on it and run down the edge where the flat top curved downward to the sidewalk.
Perhaps one of the hot spots on our block was Hardy's basketball hoop between Berogan's and Pinkston's. It sat along the alley and stood on a pole. We'd play with it when his friends (he was much older) weren't there. When baseball or basketball wasn't the thing, it was either the Sega Genesis or the Super Nintendo.
I also think of of the things that made this neighborhood a little closer than most was that most of us were not allowed to cross the extremely-busy 1st Avenue. I would cross it, but only to get my parents items from White Hen Pantry (later Grand Pantry). This kind of bounded most of us and we become closer that way.
It was really a great environment to grow up in.
I had three classmates within houses from me in Rock Falls (Jared, Stephanie and Mason), plus the Nance kids not too far away on 4th Avenue. Langley's (Dennis) was two blocks away, Davis's (Brendyn) was two blocks away, Wade's (Ashley) was two blocks away. Insley's (Dan) was three blocks away, and Yenney's (Keelin) was three blocks away.
When I moved to Sterling, the nearest classmate to me was three blocks away (Sam Snitchler), with Sierra Skaff not too far away at three blocks away. Natasha Stewart and Stephanie Carter were five blocks away. The nearest male classmate was Brandon Frey (only for a little while, and five blocks away), and then Mo Spatz (six blocks). Later on, Rick Stone lived in (again, only for a little while) the same house Brandon once lived in
Needless to say, I was pretty much isolated from everyone else. The same couldn't be said of my younger brothers. It just wasn't the same for me, and I kind of felt lonely.
***
Not too long ago, I made a visit to a friend's house in the southwest side of Rock Falls near the middle school. It was late, about 10 p.m., and all of her kids were still awake and playing in the front yard. Me, her and her boyfriend were trying to fix her car at the same time with all of these kids running around. Then came a couple of neighborhood kids over to play, and one asked to spend the night.
Five kids between the ages of 3 and 12, plus a little dog, were all over the front yard late at night. At one point, we got out some baby power to sprinkle on the belt to make sure it was alright. Then the kids got into it and it was all over us adults. She was throwing some at her kids, and they were throwing some at her.
It was about 1 a.m. when it was all said and done. I couldn't help but think of my days back on 3rd Avenue seeing all of this. I wound up doing more reminiscing than working on the car to be honest.
This was my second trip to her place in the past few days. The first was for a 4th of July bonfire in which we later threw spray cans into the fire to create some loud booms. It was 4-5 in the morning when we did all of that, and waking up the neighbors in the process.
When I sat around the others in front of the bonfire, I could only speak in concurrences ("sure," "yeah," "I think so too.") and not really draw out a whole topic of conversation. I only knew one other person there, and that is a clerk from the Rt. 30 Shell station. So that kind of helped me a little bit.
I actually crashed that bonfire. She made a call for people to come on over to her place, and I showed up. I'm the last person she probably expected to come over. Normally I wouldn't do this, as my shyness which had progressed through the years would prevent me from it all. But I did want to talk to her about something, thus my reason for actually going over there and thus smashing the shynbess barrier.
Then a few days later, she finds out that I'm bored and invites me over. I come back home with clothes dotted in baby powder.
In 16 years at Sterling, I don't think I've ever had a social spurt quite like this one. I think it is important to say that all of this happened at Rock Falls. I can only hope it will continue. She invited me to come along with her, her boyfriend and her kids to the fireworks in Walnut. But I have to work tonight.
By the way, she is one of my co-workers. Only two or three of them before have been able to get me to continually yap at them while working.
This is awesome. It really is.
Perhaps if these things continue, I'll be able to regain the social abilities that I once had before 16 years ago. It'll be like finding my inner Rock Falls kid in me once again - only a grown-up, adult version of it as if I went to school at RFMS and RFHS in an alternate timeline.
Keep on keepin on!
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Save $$$ With Shell Fuel Rewards
I hate it when gas prices go up. As publisher of a sports website which involves plenty of travel, I know all about the burden that high gas prices can do to a hobby or a business.
I've found myself traveling within business districts and expressway interchanges trying to find the cheapest price for gas within sight. Often times, they are all the same price. Even within the same city, all of the stations are at the same price sometimes.
But with Shell's Fuel Rewards Card, you now have a gas station to choose from that is at least 3 cents cheaper than the other guys!
Are all of the gas stations along your highway at $3.79 per gallon? Your Johnson Oil Shell station can lower that number down to $3.76 per gallon, as long as you have Shell's Fuel Rewards Card - and have it activated.
What is the Fuel Rewards Card? It is similar to a grocery store saver's card that you use to get savings on items at your grocery stores (such as at Kroger, County Market, K-Mart and Walgreens). The Fuel Rewards is NOT a credit or a debit card, simply a saver's card to help you just as much a grocer card does.
Don't have a Fuel Rewards Card from Shell? Stop on in your Shell station and ask the clerk for one at the counter (if he or she hasn't mentioned it to you already).
Once you have your brochure, with the plastic card attached to it, go online at http://www.fuelrewards.com to activate your card.
Once you are activated, you are ready to start your savings!
The piece of plastic is like having a pass for $0.03 cents off a gallon.
We ALL wind up doing this all of the time while filling up - have you ever had that "penny over" that ends of $XX.01? Don't take the time scrambling through ashtrays and under seats worrying about that darn penny. Use your activated Rewards Card in these cases and actually get some change BACK.
Just by having the Fuel Rewards Card, you can save 3 cents per gallon when you fill up. But did you know that you can stretch your savings to 5 cents off per gallon? Or how about 10 cents? 20 cents? A whole dollar off???
At your local Johnson Oil Shell station, you have the opportunity to save at least 5 cents off per gallon by purchasing goods and services inside the store.
Accrue $25 worth of goods and services (sales tax not included) purchased in the store using this saver card - and you can do so over a period of time. Once you have reached the $25 threshold, you can use that saver's card to save $0.05/gallon of fuel. Every $25 afterward adds an additional $0.05 savings: Spend $50 inside the store and save $0.10. Spend $350 inside the store and save $0.70.
Remember that once you redeem your rewards after filling up, your balance starts over at $0.00.
If you provide a mobile phone number at registration, you can text FUELREWARDS to 67463 at any time to learn your current cents-per-gallon savings on your Rewards Card.
NOTE: If you fill up (and paying inside), also purchasing goods, and want to add your goods total to your rewards card but not redeeming your rewards total of $0.05 or higher, you MUST ask the clerk to ring up seperate orders: one for the gas (w/o your rewards card) and one for the goods (w/ the rewards card).
On the moment you reach the $25 threshold, you have until the end of that current month PLUS one additional calendar month to use your rewards. For example: If you get the $0.05/gallon savings on May 4, you have until June 30 to use that savings. If you keep building up the savings and reach the $0.10/gallon savings on June 15, you have until June 30 to use the $0.10/gallon savings and until July 31 to use the $0.05/gallon savings.
Buying WHAT at the Shell station over time can get you the $0.05/gallon savings?
*25 $1 newspapers
*Roughly 20 cups of coffee
*Roughly 18 cups of cappuccino
*Roughly 20-ounce Pepsi products
*Roughly 20-ounce 7up products
*Roughly 21 small candy bars
*Roughly 71 small packs of chewing gum
*Roughly 14 16-ounce Monster drinks
*Roughly 6 large bags of potato chips
*50 50-cent Little Debbie snacks
*Roughly 4 6-packs of beer and roughly 2 whole cases of beer
Are there exceptions to what you can purchase for rewards? Yes; fuel itself, cigarettes (packs and cartons), lottery, gift cards, money orders, and fax services are not eligible purchases for rewards. (Also, all Johnson Oil BP locations are not included in this program, as this is a Shell promotion.)
That's right. Beer IS included in the rewards program (beer is not available at some locations, such as RF). Two big cases can already get you the $0.05/gallon rewards. Also included are cans of chewing tobacco and cigarello/blunt sticks.
Your little things can, and do, add up. Do you buy milk every two days? At $3.50/gallon for milk, about two weeks worth of milk can get you the $0.05/gallon fuel savings. Do this for a month, and you can save $0.10/gallon – and that's NOT including whatever ELSE you buy.
Do the math ... what do you get every day? You can use your typical purchase total to determine how many trips to the gas station you have left in order to increase your savings.
Let's say you get the same three things at Shell every day: a Monster drink for $1.75, a bottle of pop for $1.65 and a candy bar at $1.25. Six days of getting the same items adds up to $27.90, and you will have increased your savings at the pump from the inital $0.03/gallon off to $0.05/gallon off.
Build those savings for a month (without redeeming them), and your saving adds up to $0.20/gallon off.
The biggest question asked about such a promotion is whether the fuel savings are worth it.
Let's say you fill up your vehicle every Sunday for a year with your Fuel Rewards Card at just $0.05 off a gallon. At 20 gallons, your total savings adds up to $1.00 for your visit. In a year, you will have saved $52.00. That's almost like getting a free fill-up, or more than half of one, once a year! And that's at just $0.05 off. At $0.10 a gallon, the yearly savings adds up to $104.00.
WHAT CAN YOU DO WITH THAT MONEY? Especially come Christmas time?
Do you buy a 12-pack of beer every day?
At $10 for a 12-pack, you've spent $300 over the course of 30 days, which translates into $0.60 off per gallon after 30 days. If you buy a 12-pack a day in the maximum span of 61 days before the points expire (and you haven't used up rewards yet), this translates into $1.20 off per gallon to use before the first of the points expire - this you can do five times over the course of a calendar year. Using this formula, and those five particular fill-ups within the year, filling up a 15-gallon vehicle at the Advertised price of $3.80/gallon (docked down to $2.60 at the fill-up), your total savings over a one-year period is $120.00. And that's just the beer alone!
But let's not get too wrapped around long-term, lock-step consistency.
Let's use the $7/week for newspapers example: In 25 straight days by buying $1 newspapers, you have earned $0.05/gallon off. Filling a 20-gallon (minimum) tank right when you reach that $25 threshold is a savings of $1.00 - enough to get your 26th $1 newspaper for free, pretty much. That's not factoring in other goods purchased at Shell that could increase your savings even more.
Buying a donut at $0.89 every day for 29 straight days adds up to $25.81, enough to get your $0.05/gallon off. Filling an 19-gallon (minimum) tank after 29 days is a savings of $0.95, enough for a free donut after tax. Again, that's not factoring in other goods purchased at Shell that could increase your savings even more.
(On a personal note, my car's gas tank holds 13 gallons. If you're like me, and fill up when your stick reads “E”, a nickel savings adds up to $0.65. While that may seem like pocket change in regard to a fill-up, ask yourself this: Where else could I have received ANY savings this way?)
Additional FAQ's about the rewards:
I don't have a car, so why should I use this card? IMO, You can always give the card to someone to use for savings. They'll appreciate it. Consider it an act of kindness. And it didn't cost you anything, really.
It's just another piece of plastic that I have to carry around. IMO, but this used for fuel, which is an everyday necessity if you have a vehicle or a lawn mower. And fuel is not cheap. Using it at the register at Shell, or at the gas pumps at Shell only takes a few seconds. The online activation process only takes a few minutes as well.
I have reached the point where I can save $0.20/gallon on my card. Can I use $0.10 now and $0.10 later? No. When you use the card, you redeem all you have at that time in that one transaction.
Is is possible to get a tank of gas for free? Not entirely, but whatever is left will be a minimal payment (no more than $0.10). Say your gas station has its regular gas for $3.50, and you have reached the point where you have $3.50/gallon savings (meaning $1,750 worth of in-store purchases tallied on your FRN card, with it all yet to expire), all you pay is that minimal payment of no more than $0.10.
Can I use the rewards card in addition to my Kroger/Hilander card? No. Only one saver card can be used per transaction.
However, there are other ways to stack savings on top of your fuel rewards savings. Shell offers two credit cards that provide additional savings. The Shell “Drive for 5” credit card can save you $0.05/gallon on your final bill. The Citi Shell Platnium MasterCard can save you $0.10/gallon on your final bill. (You can ask for either of these cards at your Shell station).
Are there other ways I can build rewards on the Fuel Rewards card? Absolutely. You MUST link your Fuel Rewards rewards card with a credit or debit card (by doing so online at (http://www.fuelrewards.com), in order to rack up additional rewards by shopping at Fuel Rewards's “Online Mall,” or dining at participating reward-eligible restaurants, or grocery shopping at reward-eligible grocery stores.
How?
For dining, if you use your credit or debit card – if linked to your Fuel Rewards card – at Manny's Too in Fulton, Fried Green Tomatoes in Galena, Gene's Place in Rockford, and Happy Joes in Geneseo (the only northwest Illinois diners that are in the program), you can earn $0.10/gallon savings when you spend $50 or more.
This involves enrolling in the Dining Program (do so HERE).
In addition to northern Illinois, several restaurants in the Iowa Quad Cities area are also included: Sneaky Pete's in LeClaire; The Clubhouse in Bettendorf; Rudy's Tacos and Winner's Pizza in Eldridge; and
11th Street Precinct, Cafe Indigo, Jersey Grille, Rookie's Sports Bar, and both Rudy's Tacos locations in Davenport.
A full list of eateries can be viewed by visiting https://www.fuelrewards.com/fuelrewards/locations. Once there, type in a location and only select the "dining" icon (all of the other icons should be gray), and select "list view" for a list of nearby eateries where you can add savings to your Fuel Rewards card.
In addition, link any MasterCard credit, debit and/or prepaid card(s) to your Dining account and you'll earn an additional one-time $0.05/gallon bonus for the first $50 you spend with that card. That's on top of the $0.10/gallon you already earn for spending $50 dining.
Grocery shopping at HyVee using a MasterCard (credit, debit or perpaid) linked to your Fuel Rewards card. For every $100 spent on groceries at HyVee using your MasterCard AND your HyVee Fuel Saver card, you have earned an additional $0.03/gallon savings on your Fuel Rewards card at Shell. You MUST select "credit" when checking out and sign for your purchase.
What is the "Online Mall?"
Do you engage in online shopping? This is also a way to help put more savings toward your Fuel Rewards card.
Access the Online Mall here: https://shop.fuelrewards.com/
From that link (and ONLY from THAT link), you can click on the website of the place you wish to do your online shopping. Major stores are included here. You can earn $0.05/gallon off when you spend $50 this way. Some stores offer a multiplier of rewards, so for a store that has four times the rewards you can earn $0.20/gallon off when you spend $50 this way.
The Fuel Rewards Network will also offer specials from time to time as noted on its website. Currently there are additional bonuses for whenever you link your MasterCard to your Fuel Rewards Card.
Shell Expresslane (Johnson Oil) locations are scattered throughout all of northern Illinois and parts of eastern Iowa. It is these locations where the "$0.05/gallon savings for every $25 purchased" are eligible.
Illinois locations include:
Albany
Amboy
Annawan
Belvidere
Cherry Valley
Coal Valley
Colona
Davis
Dixon (2)
East Moline
Freeport (2)
Fulton
Galesburg
Grand Detour
Hillsdale
Kewanee
Lanark
LaSalle (2)
Marengo
Mendota
Milan
Moline (2)
Morrison
Mount Morris
Oglesby
Oregon
Ottawa (4)
Polo
Peru
Princeton
Rochelle (I-88 at IL 251 only)
Rock Falls (2)
Rockford (3)
Rock Island (2)
Silvis
Sterling (2)
Stockton
Utica
Walnut
Woodstock
Iowa locations include:
Clinton (3)
Bettendorf (2)
Buffalo
Davenport (4)
Remember, you MUST activate your FRN rewards card online in order to redeem any rewards on fuel purchases.
-Cody
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Culture Experiences
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.62.60
Current Song - Boogie Oogie Oogie (Taste of Honey)
As someone who was not born a typical human being, through Autism and Asperger's, I have always tried to find out what makes up the composition of one's personality.
Much of it has to do with culture and background.
Growing up, I felt like the center of the wheel of graduating-class personalities. One spoke led to the preps, another to the nerds, another to the goths, another to the impoverished, etc. I have always been fascinated with figuring out why people are who they are; through these connections among my own classmates.
As far as my own personal surroundings, they were a little of everything that had a positive quality. I grew up in a community that had a little of everything, although in high school it seemed as if each different group stuck together with little connections. There were a few people that "bucked the trend" sort to speak. I found myself having much in common with those that grew up in rich neighborhoods and were well-organized.
My work with high school sports has given me access to different types of people. The "prep" stereotype does not take up the entire team roster - all different types of kids are on the teams and even stand out more than the others. They listen to different music. They watch different television shows. Some kids even have kids of their own.
In trying to understand the backgrounds of these kids, I'll take a drive around their neighborhoods and even patronize some of the businesses in those neighborhoods - the latter is perhaps the finest way of understand the cultures and backgrounds of other people. After all, a big factor in relocations is whether the surroundings are similar to you or not.
Because I happen to fall in the exact middle of things, I can successfully transition from a small corner store in an ethnic neighborhood to Downtown Winnetka without having to do too much. It's at these places where I can see and experience the everyday lives of the others that shop at these places. An example of the many as to do with young children behaving in a public setting. Certain places see parents doing more yelling than others.
With each little observation, I can also learn more about how to do things and why things are the way they are.
One thing I try NOT to do is determine whether surroundings are "above me" or "below me." The latter perhaps more. I've been with people that have said "let's not go there, this place over there is much better," and they're talking about two identical gas stations based on what they look like.
Some of my travel with both high school sports and, more particularly, with Illinois HS Glory Days, has brought me to places that any person like me would definately not feel comfortable in. That being said, I have attended and covered games on Chicago's south and west sides, as well as done research on old high schools from these areas.
I'm still waiting to experience the differences between a yacht club and a strip club in the same day. That, and a five-star restaurant and a dive bar.
But when it comes to "Honey, why don't we do something different," we'll look upward. :)
Current Song - Boogie Oogie Oogie (Taste of Honey)
As someone who was not born a typical human being, through Autism and Asperger's, I have always tried to find out what makes up the composition of one's personality.
Much of it has to do with culture and background.
Growing up, I felt like the center of the wheel of graduating-class personalities. One spoke led to the preps, another to the nerds, another to the goths, another to the impoverished, etc. I have always been fascinated with figuring out why people are who they are; through these connections among my own classmates.
As far as my own personal surroundings, they were a little of everything that had a positive quality. I grew up in a community that had a little of everything, although in high school it seemed as if each different group stuck together with little connections. There were a few people that "bucked the trend" sort to speak. I found myself having much in common with those that grew up in rich neighborhoods and were well-organized.
My work with high school sports has given me access to different types of people. The "prep" stereotype does not take up the entire team roster - all different types of kids are on the teams and even stand out more than the others. They listen to different music. They watch different television shows. Some kids even have kids of their own.
In trying to understand the backgrounds of these kids, I'll take a drive around their neighborhoods and even patronize some of the businesses in those neighborhoods - the latter is perhaps the finest way of understand the cultures and backgrounds of other people. After all, a big factor in relocations is whether the surroundings are similar to you or not.
Because I happen to fall in the exact middle of things, I can successfully transition from a small corner store in an ethnic neighborhood to Downtown Winnetka without having to do too much. It's at these places where I can see and experience the everyday lives of the others that shop at these places. An example of the many as to do with young children behaving in a public setting. Certain places see parents doing more yelling than others.
With each little observation, I can also learn more about how to do things and why things are the way they are.
One thing I try NOT to do is determine whether surroundings are "above me" or "below me." The latter perhaps more. I've been with people that have said "let's not go there, this place over there is much better," and they're talking about two identical gas stations based on what they look like.
Some of my travel with both high school sports and, more particularly, with Illinois HS Glory Days, has brought me to places that any person like me would definately not feel comfortable in. That being said, I have attended and covered games on Chicago's south and west sides, as well as done research on old high schools from these areas.
I'm still waiting to experience the differences between a yacht club and a strip club in the same day. That, and a five-star restaurant and a dive bar.
But when it comes to "Honey, why don't we do something different," we'll look upward. :)
Friday, June 21, 2013
Strides in Conversation
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.12.60
Current Song - Ain't No Stopping Us Now (McFadden & Whitehead)
Improving on my conversation abilities has always been a wish of mine.
My ability to converse has declined since moving across the river 16 years ago (it's true - don't let anyone tell you otherwise), and quite often I find myself thinking back to those days when all was happy and fun. There was a time when I talked to other kids at recess. There was a time when I went to other kids' houses and played. There was a time when I had a different friend over at my place every two or three days.
Then all of that went "poof."
There was no significant life-changing moment when all of this was happening: no deaths, no divorces, no health issues, no financial trouble, nothing like that. I was mixed in with an unusual surrounding after I moved, and I struggled. That's when I would sit along the wall at recess at Challand, or sit on the bench at lunch at SHS. It's like the world went on without me and I was shuffled to the back because I couldn't keep up with everyone else.
I sought refuge back where I grew up, and I seemed to have made better on friendships there than elsewhere. Not just retaining friendships dating back to Merrill, but making new ones that branch from those.
When people look at me as someone who is extremely shy and out of touch with the current world, they don't realize that there was a time when I was actually like them at one point. They thought I always grew up like that, and it's not true. Also, because of this, I don't have the ability to have fun at a party, let alone go to one. I'm not a drinker, but I do make a great DD if needed.
I'm finding myself wanting to be able to be the same person I was pre-move. As if the past 16 years never happened. Well, not really, as I have come to know a lot more people in that time. Reclaiming my "Glory Days," if you will.
One day I summed up these feelings in a Facebook post:
"One of these days I'm going to get caught up with everything, actually put a smile on my face, actually pull a joke or impression or six, actually make coversation, and actually be the person I've always wanted to be but just had no time for. I've always had it in me, just never had the chance for it."
This caught the attention of one of my co-workers, who asked me what the whole point was behind it. In order to fully explain everything, I would have to tell the story of my life from a certain point on, but it would be too long-winded. So I just kind of summed it up to the tune of "I had a hard time making friends in school because I was different," and there was a point in time where that wasn't the case and I've felt disappointed about it since then. Like all of the fun was sucked out of me, and here I am now standing here like a log.
This co-worker happens to be the kind of person you just can't seem to ignore. Someone whom I'ave actually had luck talking to. It doesn't happen often, but there seems to be some sort of chemistry brewing here. Like Burns and Allen. I can say the slightest funny things, and that'll get her going ... and it tells me to continue doing that.
Whenever I would pull something funny, she would remark that she didn't know how I didn't make friends. I did the same things back then, but no one laughed.
She told me about her family, and not too much of it was positive. That's a far cry from mine. You'd think we'd be switched. My shyness is not a reflection of my own family, as they are actually very exceptionally well at conversation and such - this is just something I haven't professed.
Speaking of work, my conversation abilities have gotten better since the first couple of years I was there. There's no significant improvements, but only slight ones. This current roster of employees is perhaps the best one that I can have a little fun with, and talk to when I want to.
Believe it or not, my job at the Shell station actually involves talking. I've never been a believer in being that "robot" cashier, although there is plenty of time when I do act like it. When I first started, I didn't know anyone. It's been five years and most know my name without looking at the nametag. I'm really grateful for that.
Lately I've always found myself saying the same thing in regard to how things have been. Outside of "working a lot," I just don't think I've had too much else to talk about, outside of what I do during high school sports season. I just don't do anything that my typical customer base does.
Even with people I've known for years, I just haven't had anything good to report to them outside of the typical response of "working a lot." You can't make good conversation on that. "Working a lot" really kills a conversation chance. But I just don't know what else to say. Nothing's happening with me right now.
I just have to fight that inner struggle of 1) They are coming here to buy goods first and not necessarily talking to the clerk, and 2) I would like to engage in more conversation.
While it's still a struggle to talk to customers, I'm finding that a common theme in most of them involve sports. I used to play 670 AM (The Score) on the radio while at work, but the antenna broke and the signal faded. More recently, the Stanley Cup Playoffs (and its three overtimes) have given me an icebreaker of sorts, but not too much.
(On an unrelated note, I still do not have cable at home. I'm wondering if I watch TV more, I'll pick up something to make conversation on. But I just don't know about the monthly cost of it.)
Sometimes if I just had something to do in my days off, I'd have something good, different and positive to report to my customers rather than "oh, just working a lot."
Current Song - Ain't No Stopping Us Now (McFadden & Whitehead)
Improving on my conversation abilities has always been a wish of mine.
My ability to converse has declined since moving across the river 16 years ago (it's true - don't let anyone tell you otherwise), and quite often I find myself thinking back to those days when all was happy and fun. There was a time when I talked to other kids at recess. There was a time when I went to other kids' houses and played. There was a time when I had a different friend over at my place every two or three days.
Then all of that went "poof."
There was no significant life-changing moment when all of this was happening: no deaths, no divorces, no health issues, no financial trouble, nothing like that. I was mixed in with an unusual surrounding after I moved, and I struggled. That's when I would sit along the wall at recess at Challand, or sit on the bench at lunch at SHS. It's like the world went on without me and I was shuffled to the back because I couldn't keep up with everyone else.
I sought refuge back where I grew up, and I seemed to have made better on friendships there than elsewhere. Not just retaining friendships dating back to Merrill, but making new ones that branch from those.
When people look at me as someone who is extremely shy and out of touch with the current world, they don't realize that there was a time when I was actually like them at one point. They thought I always grew up like that, and it's not true. Also, because of this, I don't have the ability to have fun at a party, let alone go to one. I'm not a drinker, but I do make a great DD if needed.
I'm finding myself wanting to be able to be the same person I was pre-move. As if the past 16 years never happened. Well, not really, as I have come to know a lot more people in that time. Reclaiming my "Glory Days," if you will.
One day I summed up these feelings in a Facebook post:
"One of these days I'm going to get caught up with everything, actually put a smile on my face, actually pull a joke or impression or six, actually make coversation, and actually be the person I've always wanted to be but just had no time for. I've always had it in me, just never had the chance for it."
This caught the attention of one of my co-workers, who asked me what the whole point was behind it. In order to fully explain everything, I would have to tell the story of my life from a certain point on, but it would be too long-winded. So I just kind of summed it up to the tune of "I had a hard time making friends in school because I was different," and there was a point in time where that wasn't the case and I've felt disappointed about it since then. Like all of the fun was sucked out of me, and here I am now standing here like a log.
This co-worker happens to be the kind of person you just can't seem to ignore. Someone whom I'ave actually had luck talking to. It doesn't happen often, but there seems to be some sort of chemistry brewing here. Like Burns and Allen. I can say the slightest funny things, and that'll get her going ... and it tells me to continue doing that.
Whenever I would pull something funny, she would remark that she didn't know how I didn't make friends. I did the same things back then, but no one laughed.
She told me about her family, and not too much of it was positive. That's a far cry from mine. You'd think we'd be switched. My shyness is not a reflection of my own family, as they are actually very exceptionally well at conversation and such - this is just something I haven't professed.
Speaking of work, my conversation abilities have gotten better since the first couple of years I was there. There's no significant improvements, but only slight ones. This current roster of employees is perhaps the best one that I can have a little fun with, and talk to when I want to.
Believe it or not, my job at the Shell station actually involves talking. I've never been a believer in being that "robot" cashier, although there is plenty of time when I do act like it. When I first started, I didn't know anyone. It's been five years and most know my name without looking at the nametag. I'm really grateful for that.
Lately I've always found myself saying the same thing in regard to how things have been. Outside of "working a lot," I just don't think I've had too much else to talk about, outside of what I do during high school sports season. I just don't do anything that my typical customer base does.
Even with people I've known for years, I just haven't had anything good to report to them outside of the typical response of "working a lot." You can't make good conversation on that. "Working a lot" really kills a conversation chance. But I just don't know what else to say. Nothing's happening with me right now.
I just have to fight that inner struggle of 1) They are coming here to buy goods first and not necessarily talking to the clerk, and 2) I would like to engage in more conversation.
While it's still a struggle to talk to customers, I'm finding that a common theme in most of them involve sports. I used to play 670 AM (The Score) on the radio while at work, but the antenna broke and the signal faded. More recently, the Stanley Cup Playoffs (and its three overtimes) have given me an icebreaker of sorts, but not too much.
(On an unrelated note, I still do not have cable at home. I'm wondering if I watch TV more, I'll pick up something to make conversation on. But I just don't know about the monthly cost of it.)
Sometimes if I just had something to do in my days off, I'd have something good, different and positive to report to my customers rather than "oh, just working a lot."
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Thoughts On Smoking
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.81.60
Current Song - Around The World (Daft Punk)
I don't smoke.
I've never smoked. Never will.
I come in contact with about 50-60 smokers per shift at work. About 25 of them are younger than me. Most of them are regular customers.
I just don't get it.
My buddy Joe, who is my nightly "super-regular" at work, told me about a former customer of ours that recently had a stroke and a heartattack. He had stopped smoking for a while and went back to it. Then this happened.
Joe himself became a smoker when he was 18, in 1958. He smoked as many as three packs a day, while working two jobs, until he was 25. That's when a doctor scared him into not smoking another cigarette for the rest of his life. Therefore he quit "cold turkey" and it has worked. Two years from now will be 50 years smoke-free for Joe.
Joe and I are often completly bewildered when the subject of smoking comes up in our nightly conversation. We just don't get why people smoke. For a while I didn't have a problem with people smoking in my car, but now I do.
Of the four Cutter Boys, two smoke and two do not smoke. This seems natural when you consider that, for all but two months I can remember, my parents never smoked (my mom lit it up in that brief time). But two of my four grandparents were big smokers; one died before I was born and the other quit in her mid-60s. Most of my great-grandparents smoked. But then again, the true dangers of smoking weren't shoved down people's throats at that time.
They're going to bitch at me for writing this, but I could never understand why two of my brothers (Mike and Chris) started smoking. That's when I began to think about why young people start smoking in the first place.
I grew up around relatives that smoked. I can't ever say that any of them have ever influenced me into thinking about it. I do remember hiding mom's cigarettes one time during that brief period in which she smoked. Might have been influence from my grandparents (dad's parents).
Then I got to thinking about the people I was around. In Rock Falls, most of the kids I grew up with, those in my neighborhood, later smoked. After moving from Rock Falls, I really didn't have a specific group of friends - it was all just one big whole to me, although through sports I gravitated toward the athletes quite a bit.
Thinking back of all four of us in high school, Dan and I hung out with athletes more than Mike and Chris. I think that is a big reason that seperates us two when it comes to smoking. But at the same time, hanging out with athletes doesn't present a smoking problem much as it does an underage drinking problem. Dan and I have survived all of that.
Throughout middle school and high school, I've never been asked those questions of "Do you want ..." Even when I was hanging around seniors as a freshman, never.
When I talk about the differences between Cody/Dan and Mike/Chris, that doesn't mean that smoking seperates us. We're still a strong four-person unit. I'm just point out differences in personality and liknesses. It "distincts" you, I guess.
And most importantly, all of this slamming on smoking - I don't look down or dislike people because of whether they smoke or not.
However, the one big dislike that I have when it comes to smoking is this: I cannot fathom living life along with a woman that smokes. Perhaps that's one of the reasons why I'm still single right now. When we kiss, there's that certain "smoke breath". I hate to say it, but smoking is a big turn-off for me. It's not a problem with relatives, but with that certain someone that you will be bonded with forever, I just can't see it. I don't hate them, I'm just saying that I can't see myself committed with one.
Current Song - Around The World (Daft Punk)
I don't smoke.
I've never smoked. Never will.
I come in contact with about 50-60 smokers per shift at work. About 25 of them are younger than me. Most of them are regular customers.
I just don't get it.
My buddy Joe, who is my nightly "super-regular" at work, told me about a former customer of ours that recently had a stroke and a heartattack. He had stopped smoking for a while and went back to it. Then this happened.
Joe himself became a smoker when he was 18, in 1958. He smoked as many as three packs a day, while working two jobs, until he was 25. That's when a doctor scared him into not smoking another cigarette for the rest of his life. Therefore he quit "cold turkey" and it has worked. Two years from now will be 50 years smoke-free for Joe.
Joe and I are often completly bewildered when the subject of smoking comes up in our nightly conversation. We just don't get why people smoke. For a while I didn't have a problem with people smoking in my car, but now I do.
Of the four Cutter Boys, two smoke and two do not smoke. This seems natural when you consider that, for all but two months I can remember, my parents never smoked (my mom lit it up in that brief time). But two of my four grandparents were big smokers; one died before I was born and the other quit in her mid-60s. Most of my great-grandparents smoked. But then again, the true dangers of smoking weren't shoved down people's throats at that time.
They're going to bitch at me for writing this, but I could never understand why two of my brothers (Mike and Chris) started smoking. That's when I began to think about why young people start smoking in the first place.
I grew up around relatives that smoked. I can't ever say that any of them have ever influenced me into thinking about it. I do remember hiding mom's cigarettes one time during that brief period in which she smoked. Might have been influence from my grandparents (dad's parents).
Then I got to thinking about the people I was around. In Rock Falls, most of the kids I grew up with, those in my neighborhood, later smoked. After moving from Rock Falls, I really didn't have a specific group of friends - it was all just one big whole to me, although through sports I gravitated toward the athletes quite a bit.
Thinking back of all four of us in high school, Dan and I hung out with athletes more than Mike and Chris. I think that is a big reason that seperates us two when it comes to smoking. But at the same time, hanging out with athletes doesn't present a smoking problem much as it does an underage drinking problem. Dan and I have survived all of that.
Throughout middle school and high school, I've never been asked those questions of "Do you want ..." Even when I was hanging around seniors as a freshman, never.
When I talk about the differences between Cody/Dan and Mike/Chris, that doesn't mean that smoking seperates us. We're still a strong four-person unit. I'm just point out differences in personality and liknesses. It "distincts" you, I guess.
And most importantly, all of this slamming on smoking - I don't look down or dislike people because of whether they smoke or not.
However, the one big dislike that I have when it comes to smoking is this: I cannot fathom living life along with a woman that smokes. Perhaps that's one of the reasons why I'm still single right now. When we kiss, there's that certain "smoke breath". I hate to say it, but smoking is a big turn-off for me. It's not a problem with relatives, but with that certain someone that you will be bonded with forever, I just can't see it. I don't hate them, I'm just saying that I can't see myself committed with one.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Wallingford Park
Cutter's Log - Special Entry
With this little story, I have now run out of my array of such stories.
Whatever stories are left haven't existed yet.
To conclude, I'd like to go back to where it ALL began.
If you're an avid reader of this Blog, you know about my favorite sports team growing up. Not the White Sox. Not the Bears. Not the Blackhawks. Nowhere close. That spot is reserved for Rock Falls Softball. That is, the same group of girls that started as 9- and 10-years old up until being seniors in high school (and even later at some of the colleges).
These girls were in my same graduating class, and one year each way. And they were good at what they did on the softball diamond. Just look at those plaques bolted along the concession stand at Wallingford Park.
Wallingford Park was where I first met the girls. 15 years ago this summer.
Many people think I was there at the very start: The state title win in 1997 - what would be the first of a string of many. Actually, I never saw any of the games during the first two state title wins. But what they did made the newspaper.
When the second state title came around, WSDR was broadcasting their games on the radio and I would tune in to them. Here were some classmates that I grew up with doing something very special, and so far away in Joplin (MO) of all places, and I wanted to know just how far they would go.
These girls were my age, but I only knew one of them. That was Emily. She was in my 1st, 2nd and 3rd grade classes. I had also heard of her best friend at the time, April, but never met her. And Turnroth was a familiar name because it's pinned to all of the billboards in town.
***
When I had time to myself, I would ride my bike along the canal and sometimes stop underneath one of the bridges and throw rocks. I had already rode everywhere there was to ride in Sterling, so Rock Falls - and back to the old stomping grounds - was next to "conquer."
We moved away from RF because of a disagreement with the lady that owned our house. When mom and dad knew that I was in Rock Falls, they told me to stay away from around there in case the landlord found me and bugged me into inquiring about my parents.
On those times when I DID adhere to my parents, I was on the east side of the highway doing something.
Such as riding to Centennial Park with my wheels along the edge of the pond.
I had broken my orange bicycle when I went all the way to Coleta, so I was left with riding my brother Mike's bike for a while. Mike had this dark blue bike with a yellow seat and a small vanity plate that read "Mike" on it. One day when I was sitting along where the pond crosses the road, someone yelled to me "Hi Mike!"
I rode one day all the way to Centennial Park to see if there were some friends I could find and play with. Along the walk, somewhere along First Avenue (I'd like to say near McDonalds), there was a firetruck driving very slow. I actually didn't think of it at the time, and didn't know where they were going. They had just come home from Joplin.
I just went along to Centennial Park as planned. When there was no one there, I made my way back home cutting across Avenue C.
The procession stopped at Wallingford Park. That's where I found a familar van - that of my best friend Seth's parents. I thought Seth was there, which gave me an incentive to stop. Didn't find Seth, but found his brother Austin. He was playing along with some of the kids his age near the picnic area. That's when I saw Bridgette (who was in the same class as my brother Mike), and when I saw her, I knew Emily was also here.
"I guess I'll go say hi."
I made my way over to the bleachers and sat for a while as the coaches were talking on a mic. I didn't know who the guy was, but the lady looked familar. After a while, I saw my buddy Jake there.
Jake and I also go back as far as 1st grade. It was great to see him again, we hadn't talked in a couple of years and had a lot of catching up to do. That's when he told me about Emily. I thought it made sense .... I had a feeling as far back as fourth grade.
All I remember about the awards ceremony itself was that Kathy had struggled with pronouncing "Tresenriter".
Afterward, Jake, Emily and I shared a few words together and caught up. It was getting late, and I had to hurry back home.
Apparently I was gone for a long, long time. I guess I kind of lost time with all that conversation. When I returned home it was dark and the crickets were out.
And a police car was parked out front.
My parents had worried so great that they called in the police to help find me (my parents were like that sometimes). Nevertheless, I recieved quite a scorn that evening, explaining to them where I was and what happened. This wasn't my first rodeo with being out way too late. My grandparents had then arrived and asked if anyone had found me yet.
The whole "worry" thing hit when I realized that my grandparents had also been out looking for me. I had started to cry and I remember hugging my grandmother.
Thinking about what happened that night, it was simply the joy with reconnecting with Jake and Emily that caused me to lose track of time. That's when it sort of hit me that I really missed it back in Rock Falls. I was a bit of a reculse in Sterling, still trying to adapt to the new surroundings, but those that I went to school with in Rock Falls still remembered me as that interesting kid who knew everything.
I guess it was a natrual feeling that I gravitated back toward Rock Falls to find some happier times with the same people I left behind. All the while, maintaining some of the few friendships I had with those from Sterling.
***
One day on the following year, Sterling's softball team and Rock Falls's softball team played in a district game at Westwood. At the time, I knew more girls on the Sterling team than I did on Rock Falls's. That's when I knew of one more classmate from Rock Falls: Alisha. So I thought some of my Rock Falls friends were also there that night.
Turned out, through Emily and Alisha, I was introduced to the rest of the girls. They must have told them about me (all they had was who I was in grade school). I take it that set a trigger off ... and the rest is history.
It didn't really settle in until my 8th grade basketball season at Challand. We had a road game at East Coloma and on our way in, one of the East Coloma cheerleaders recognized me and yelled "Hi Cody!" I waved back, and I didn't know who it was. Who was she, and how did she know my name? And then it hit me, it must have been one of those softball girls (Raechelle).
Wait a minute, I thought. I've only met them once maybe twice. How do they remember me? And the rest is history.
***
I've rambled on and on throughout the years about history. Each step along the way forged the friendships more and more. Over the years, they all would become an important part of my life. All of them. It wasn't just Emily, or Alisha, or Ashley anymore.
The starting point, however, was that summer evening at Wallingford Park 15 years ago. Now if I would have went on home and ignored that big to-do at Wallingford or spotted the Eckel-mobile, things would have been much different.
That evening was a major turning point in my life, which is now being spent as a high school sports journalist trying to revolutionize it all through the Internet. My current project is a website called Northern Illinois Sports Beat. This coming season will be the 10th Anniversary of my website. Year No. 9 has been marred with problems, so I decided to make year No. 10 a major overhaul.
Each summer I have conducted a "State of the Site Address" to outline plans for the following year's version of the website. Recently, I have conducted addresses on video from certain locations through my website's coverage area.
Because this year plans on being something completely different, which, I hope, makes the website sustainable for the future, I figured it would be appropriate to tape my "State of the Site Address" from home plate at Wallingford Park.
***
If my website survives another 15 years or so, I can see myself covering a Big Northern Conference crossover sports game between Dixon and Genoa-Kingston. When I see the names "Kastner" and "Henkel" in the starting lineups squaring off against one another (barring any relocations and such), that's when I'm going to get that "I feel old" feeling. Then, when one thing leads to another, that'll make me think back to that night in Wallingford Park.
Only by then it will have been almost 30 years ago!
With this little story, I have now run out of my array of such stories.
Whatever stories are left haven't existed yet.
To conclude, I'd like to go back to where it ALL began.
If you're an avid reader of this Blog, you know about my favorite sports team growing up. Not the White Sox. Not the Bears. Not the Blackhawks. Nowhere close. That spot is reserved for Rock Falls Softball. That is, the same group of girls that started as 9- and 10-years old up until being seniors in high school (and even later at some of the colleges).
These girls were in my same graduating class, and one year each way. And they were good at what they did on the softball diamond. Just look at those plaques bolted along the concession stand at Wallingford Park.
Wallingford Park was where I first met the girls. 15 years ago this summer.
Many people think I was there at the very start: The state title win in 1997 - what would be the first of a string of many. Actually, I never saw any of the games during the first two state title wins. But what they did made the newspaper.
When the second state title came around, WSDR was broadcasting their games on the radio and I would tune in to them. Here were some classmates that I grew up with doing something very special, and so far away in Joplin (MO) of all places, and I wanted to know just how far they would go.
These girls were my age, but I only knew one of them. That was Emily. She was in my 1st, 2nd and 3rd grade classes. I had also heard of her best friend at the time, April, but never met her. And Turnroth was a familiar name because it's pinned to all of the billboards in town.
***
When I had time to myself, I would ride my bike along the canal and sometimes stop underneath one of the bridges and throw rocks. I had already rode everywhere there was to ride in Sterling, so Rock Falls - and back to the old stomping grounds - was next to "conquer."
We moved away from RF because of a disagreement with the lady that owned our house. When mom and dad knew that I was in Rock Falls, they told me to stay away from around there in case the landlord found me and bugged me into inquiring about my parents.
On those times when I DID adhere to my parents, I was on the east side of the highway doing something.
Such as riding to Centennial Park with my wheels along the edge of the pond.
I had broken my orange bicycle when I went all the way to Coleta, so I was left with riding my brother Mike's bike for a while. Mike had this dark blue bike with a yellow seat and a small vanity plate that read "Mike" on it. One day when I was sitting along where the pond crosses the road, someone yelled to me "Hi Mike!"
I rode one day all the way to Centennial Park to see if there were some friends I could find and play with. Along the walk, somewhere along First Avenue (I'd like to say near McDonalds), there was a firetruck driving very slow. I actually didn't think of it at the time, and didn't know where they were going. They had just come home from Joplin.
I just went along to Centennial Park as planned. When there was no one there, I made my way back home cutting across Avenue C.
The procession stopped at Wallingford Park. That's where I found a familar van - that of my best friend Seth's parents. I thought Seth was there, which gave me an incentive to stop. Didn't find Seth, but found his brother Austin. He was playing along with some of the kids his age near the picnic area. That's when I saw Bridgette (who was in the same class as my brother Mike), and when I saw her, I knew Emily was also here.
"I guess I'll go say hi."
I made my way over to the bleachers and sat for a while as the coaches were talking on a mic. I didn't know who the guy was, but the lady looked familar. After a while, I saw my buddy Jake there.
Jake and I also go back as far as 1st grade. It was great to see him again, we hadn't talked in a couple of years and had a lot of catching up to do. That's when he told me about Emily. I thought it made sense .... I had a feeling as far back as fourth grade.
All I remember about the awards ceremony itself was that Kathy had struggled with pronouncing "Tresenriter".
Afterward, Jake, Emily and I shared a few words together and caught up. It was getting late, and I had to hurry back home.
Apparently I was gone for a long, long time. I guess I kind of lost time with all that conversation. When I returned home it was dark and the crickets were out.
And a police car was parked out front.
My parents had worried so great that they called in the police to help find me (my parents were like that sometimes). Nevertheless, I recieved quite a scorn that evening, explaining to them where I was and what happened. This wasn't my first rodeo with being out way too late. My grandparents had then arrived and asked if anyone had found me yet.
The whole "worry" thing hit when I realized that my grandparents had also been out looking for me. I had started to cry and I remember hugging my grandmother.
Thinking about what happened that night, it was simply the joy with reconnecting with Jake and Emily that caused me to lose track of time. That's when it sort of hit me that I really missed it back in Rock Falls. I was a bit of a reculse in Sterling, still trying to adapt to the new surroundings, but those that I went to school with in Rock Falls still remembered me as that interesting kid who knew everything.
I guess it was a natrual feeling that I gravitated back toward Rock Falls to find some happier times with the same people I left behind. All the while, maintaining some of the few friendships I had with those from Sterling.
***
One day on the following year, Sterling's softball team and Rock Falls's softball team played in a district game at Westwood. At the time, I knew more girls on the Sterling team than I did on Rock Falls's. That's when I knew of one more classmate from Rock Falls: Alisha. So I thought some of my Rock Falls friends were also there that night.
Turned out, through Emily and Alisha, I was introduced to the rest of the girls. They must have told them about me (all they had was who I was in grade school). I take it that set a trigger off ... and the rest is history.
It didn't really settle in until my 8th grade basketball season at Challand. We had a road game at East Coloma and on our way in, one of the East Coloma cheerleaders recognized me and yelled "Hi Cody!" I waved back, and I didn't know who it was. Who was she, and how did she know my name? And then it hit me, it must have been one of those softball girls (Raechelle).
Wait a minute, I thought. I've only met them once maybe twice. How do they remember me? And the rest is history.
***
I've rambled on and on throughout the years about history. Each step along the way forged the friendships more and more. Over the years, they all would become an important part of my life. All of them. It wasn't just Emily, or Alisha, or Ashley anymore.
The starting point, however, was that summer evening at Wallingford Park 15 years ago. Now if I would have went on home and ignored that big to-do at Wallingford or spotted the Eckel-mobile, things would have been much different.
That evening was a major turning point in my life, which is now being spent as a high school sports journalist trying to revolutionize it all through the Internet. My current project is a website called Northern Illinois Sports Beat. This coming season will be the 10th Anniversary of my website. Year No. 9 has been marred with problems, so I decided to make year No. 10 a major overhaul.
Each summer I have conducted a "State of the Site Address" to outline plans for the following year's version of the website. Recently, I have conducted addresses on video from certain locations through my website's coverage area.
Because this year plans on being something completely different, which, I hope, makes the website sustainable for the future, I figured it would be appropriate to tape my "State of the Site Address" from home plate at Wallingford Park.
***
If my website survives another 15 years or so, I can see myself covering a Big Northern Conference crossover sports game between Dixon and Genoa-Kingston. When I see the names "Kastner" and "Henkel" in the starting lineups squaring off against one another (barring any relocations and such), that's when I'm going to get that "I feel old" feeling. Then, when one thing leads to another, that'll make me think back to that night in Wallingford Park.
Only by then it will have been almost 30 years ago!
An Old Shell Shirt & Some Medicine
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.41.60
Current Song - Fresh (Daft Punk)
I"ve been on this weight loss crusade for 7 months now. Other than losing the weight itself, this crusade has been sort of uneventful.
People have told me that I look lighter than the last time they saw me. I didn't believe them because I thought it was just kind words to encourage me along the journey. Actually, I look at my body every day and I don't see any substantial changes in it. But they did. It didn't make sense to me.
It all made sense to me yesterday.
I am way behind in getting my laundry done. I've exhausted my usual array of Shell work clothes. So I had to dig deep in my closet for something else. I had these old Kevin Harvick racing shirts from 3-4 years ago which are now outdated. I think it's been about three years since I last wore them, and I weighed about 335 pounds at that time.
I can remember wearing these shirts. Nothing fit perfectly on me, and this particular shirt I pulled from the closet was the best one that fit me back then (as I remembered from the small hole in the back of it). I put on this shirt, a 4X, and it didn't feel right - not how I remembered it fitting me back then.
Turns out this shirt had plenty of width on it. I didn't remember the shirt being that wide. It looked like I was wearing a dress, but it was still better than the stinky, wrinkled work shirts in my dirty clothes hamper.
This shirt has a yellow top with a red middle. The Shell logo on one shoulder and the number "29" on the other shoulder. That hasn't changed.
When I was doing my usual restroom cleaning, I took a look at the mirror. This mirror is low enough to also show my pants. Just looking at myself with this shirt on, it seemed different. Then I tried something.
I took the bottom left corner of my shirt and tugged it all the way to the left. There was about 15 inches of shirt to the left of me. Then I wrapped the shift behind my back. It made for a tighter middle around me. While I looked at that image, I noticed the Shell logo and the "29." They seemed bigger than what I remembered them being. At that point it hit me - I can see the change.
I thought back to all of those ugly mirror images of me with that shirt on when I wore it regularly. Then I compared those to today, and sure enough I looked smaller than what I did back then.
A little point of pride right there.
I feel great about it, and I needed that because I haven't felt great in recent weeks.
I'm standing around like a log, and not too long ago I met someone who is the exact opposite of me. I'm being run around in circles throughout all of this. However, instead of being annoyed, I'd rather soak in all of this life and energy and try to adapt it to myself. In other words, I haven't had fun in a long time and this could help me rediscover what that was once like.
Somehow I see the potential for some chemistry.
Current Song - Fresh (Daft Punk)
I"ve been on this weight loss crusade for 7 months now. Other than losing the weight itself, this crusade has been sort of uneventful.
People have told me that I look lighter than the last time they saw me. I didn't believe them because I thought it was just kind words to encourage me along the journey. Actually, I look at my body every day and I don't see any substantial changes in it. But they did. It didn't make sense to me.
It all made sense to me yesterday.
I am way behind in getting my laundry done. I've exhausted my usual array of Shell work clothes. So I had to dig deep in my closet for something else. I had these old Kevin Harvick racing shirts from 3-4 years ago which are now outdated. I think it's been about three years since I last wore them, and I weighed about 335 pounds at that time.
I can remember wearing these shirts. Nothing fit perfectly on me, and this particular shirt I pulled from the closet was the best one that fit me back then (as I remembered from the small hole in the back of it). I put on this shirt, a 4X, and it didn't feel right - not how I remembered it fitting me back then.
Turns out this shirt had plenty of width on it. I didn't remember the shirt being that wide. It looked like I was wearing a dress, but it was still better than the stinky, wrinkled work shirts in my dirty clothes hamper.
This shirt has a yellow top with a red middle. The Shell logo on one shoulder and the number "29" on the other shoulder. That hasn't changed.
When I was doing my usual restroom cleaning, I took a look at the mirror. This mirror is low enough to also show my pants. Just looking at myself with this shirt on, it seemed different. Then I tried something.
I took the bottom left corner of my shirt and tugged it all the way to the left. There was about 15 inches of shirt to the left of me. Then I wrapped the shift behind my back. It made for a tighter middle around me. While I looked at that image, I noticed the Shell logo and the "29." They seemed bigger than what I remembered them being. At that point it hit me - I can see the change.
I thought back to all of those ugly mirror images of me with that shirt on when I wore it regularly. Then I compared those to today, and sure enough I looked smaller than what I did back then.
A little point of pride right there.
I feel great about it, and I needed that because I haven't felt great in recent weeks.
I'm standing around like a log, and not too long ago I met someone who is the exact opposite of me. I'm being run around in circles throughout all of this. However, instead of being annoyed, I'd rather soak in all of this life and energy and try to adapt it to myself. In other words, I haven't had fun in a long time and this could help me rediscover what that was once like.
Somehow I see the potential for some chemistry.
Monday, June 10, 2013
Why I Haven't Been Smiling Lately
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.01.60
Current Song - Don't Lose My Number (Phil Collins)
Over the past couple of weeks, I have apparently found many more reminders that everyone I know is moving forward ... and I am not.
When it comes to love, I see things from people my age that remind me just how far behind the curve I am.
When it comes to friendships, I see things from people my age that remind me just how far behind the curve I am.
Why them, and not me? Why them, and not me? Why am I so far behind?
All of this has led to a really mopy Cody.
I was reminded at the State Softball finals that I needed to smile more. I trust his advice. And I tried throughout the weekend.
Then not too long after I clocked in at work on Sunday, I was reminded by someone else - one that doesn't know me - that "You ... need to smile more. You always look like you're pissed off all of the time." I don't know this person, but apparently must come in often.
Since there were other people around me, I didn't show my true emotion. Therefore, I still looked like I was pissed. Of course I was pissed - someone just said something negative about me. I had to wait until the store was empty to let out my true feelings about what was said about me. Simply staring blankly into space most of the time. Only when I parked my car in front of my house did I cry.
No one understands just how far behind I am. No one I know knows how to fix it. When you live alone with little contact (because I don't quite know how to engage in consistent contact), you get all of these emotional feelings bottled up. If the walls of my house could talk, they'd be screaming for someone to help me.
Meanwhile, I'll just try to survive the best I can.
Current Song - Don't Lose My Number (Phil Collins)
Over the past couple of weeks, I have apparently found many more reminders that everyone I know is moving forward ... and I am not.
When it comes to love, I see things from people my age that remind me just how far behind the curve I am.
When it comes to friendships, I see things from people my age that remind me just how far behind the curve I am.
Why them, and not me? Why them, and not me? Why am I so far behind?
All of this has led to a really mopy Cody.
I was reminded at the State Softball finals that I needed to smile more. I trust his advice. And I tried throughout the weekend.
Then not too long after I clocked in at work on Sunday, I was reminded by someone else - one that doesn't know me - that "You ... need to smile more. You always look like you're pissed off all of the time." I don't know this person, but apparently must come in often.
Since there were other people around me, I didn't show my true emotion. Therefore, I still looked like I was pissed. Of course I was pissed - someone just said something negative about me. I had to wait until the store was empty to let out my true feelings about what was said about me. Simply staring blankly into space most of the time. Only when I parked my car in front of my house did I cry.
No one understands just how far behind I am. No one I know knows how to fix it. When you live alone with little contact (because I don't quite know how to engage in consistent contact), you get all of these emotional feelings bottled up. If the walls of my house could talk, they'd be screaming for someone to help me.
Meanwhile, I'll just try to survive the best I can.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Did It Nearly Come To An End?
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.50.60
Current Song - Hold Me Now (Thompson Twins)
This past weekend marked my comeback to normal high school sportswriting after a two-and-a-half month hiatus.
I needed this break because many things in my personal life were out of order. During this break, I had only attended two softball games. Both were Sterling vs. Rock Falls. The key word here is "attended." I didn't cover these games, thus didn't pay attention to any important details.
Covering Milledgeville and St. Bede softball at State this year was my first time ever seeing these particular teams. I had never covered a St. Bede softball game EVER, and the last time I covered a Milledgeville Softball game was in 2006. But these two teams are a part of my coverage area, and so I set out to cover their time at State.
I struggled mightily.
One, I'm not used to standing up to cover a softball or a baseball game. I usually bring my lawn chair and plop it down next to the fence behind home plate. The Milledgeville semifinal game was played on the alternate diamond, where there is no press row.
Since it was my first softball game, I had to refamiliarize myself with my own softball stat templates. That, and hold an umbrella at certain times when the papers got wet. Plus this new thing called Twitter that apparently everyone else is using. Juggling a pen, clipboard, camera, umbrella and a cell phone while standing up to cover a softball game is not fun.
To make matters worse, the second game I was supposed to be covering (St. Bede's semifinal) started in the middle of the Milledgeville semifinal.
Disaster after disaster after disaster.
I ended up Tweeting the final score wrong on the Milledgeville semifinal as 10-2. It was 10-3. When a fellow reporter pointed that out to me, I was beyond embarassed.
I didn't know what to think of myself as I was struggling to get through the rest of the St. Bede game, and then on my way back to my hotel room.
This weekend was turning into a disaster and an embarassment at the same time.
It only got worse for me during the state title game.
Me and another reporter were asked our "Picks to Click" for who was going to hit the first homerun for Milledgeville in the title game. Gee, I didn't know. I had only seen Milledgeville once, but felt like I had to say something to try to show that I was alert.
My choice: "No one."
It confused and baffled the rest of press row, and I was reminded twice that Milledgeville "digs the long ball." Sure enough, Milledgeville hits two homers in the first two innings.
While I was certainly happy for Milledgeville with the two bombs, I couldn't help but feel disappointed in myself. I embarassed myself in front of my own sportswriting colleagues, who thought I was absolutely dumb to make that kind of prediction.
Then I had one of those over-the-top moments: I imagined my sportswriting colleagues making fun of me and trying to push me out of the profession, saying that my time has come to an end. After all, in today's horrible journalism field job security, sometimes we all feel like we are against ourselves when it comes to fighting for our jobs.
I feel they're trying to push me out because I am young and have already developed my own style and own following.
When the rain hit, I went into the upstairs press box while the other reporters were attached to their respective team's every parking lot move.
At 6:45 p.m. I decided to go on a walk. Milledgeville was set to resume at 8:15.
****
I took the sidewalk from the press box all the way to where it came to an end: at the visiting dugout of Diamond 5. It is a little kids' diamond with a covered dugout and a steel bench.
I sat down on the bench, and was alone from the rest of the world.
Tears started rolling down my eyes.
Nine years ago at this very place was the assignment that I considered my greatest and most memorable. I was working for Sauk Valley Media as an 18-year-old part-timer covering my friends from Rock Falls in the Class A finals.
Nine years later, I was falling completely flat as a trusted high school sports journalist.
I had thought back to those 2004 finals. I knew everyone on that team. Everyone. I could tell you what Whitey's batting average was without looking in the program. I could tell you how many innings Korb pitched on the entire season. Et cetera.
Whatever happened during those three (at the time) finals games, I could easily write about. Even when they went 20 innings with Warrensburg-Latham, it was an easy story to write when it came to the mood and feel.
I knew the Rock Falls girls from 9 years ago, and covered half of their games for either the newspaper or for the website. I grew up with them.
I didn't know anyone from Milledgeville, or St. Bede this year. And here I was trying to act as if I knew them, and had covered them throughout the year when I really hadn't. Everyone else on press row knew them, and knew them well. That's because they had been covering their games for a long time and kept up-to-date about them.
I don't get around to seeing these teams, coaches and athletes every day. That goes for almost every team that I have written an article on since starting this website. I have to re-introduce myself to most of the coaches every year if I don't see them at least five times (save a few that actually remember me somehow). This is where my communication disabilities factor in, and it kind of hurts me more.
This puts me at a terrible disadvantage compared to the other guys. It kind of hurts when people ask me questions about a team, or someone on a team, and I am unable to answer the question accurately for them. This leads to a domino effect that would eventually hurt my journalism career.
My journalism career was a sitting duck while I hung my head down low in the Diamond 5 dugout.
I had already committed to covering the 2013-14 school year. But then I thought about the possibility of that being my last. Ever.
I thought about all of the things that covering high school sports all these years has effected me. Massive amounts of money had been spend on fuel to see different worlds and different personalities. The time it takes to devote myself to keeping my beloved trade has certainly impacted my social life.
Not to mention my love life. That was deader than my social life, or my professional life. I couldn't help but think about trading my journalism career for a chance to know what true love is all about (ie. finding a girlfriend, keeping her, loving her, marriage, kids, etc.).
Maybe I would have a chance to hang out with people when I'm not working. Actually have a social life for a change. Have some life in me, instead of having this dark cloud hang over me at all times.
The possibilities of actual happiness - what I certainly am not getting now with what I'm doing between sports and Shell - seemed like a dashed dream to me at that point.
One of the lowest points in my journalism career was suddenly halted by a loudspeaker test coming from the press box.
"Test 1, 2, 3."
At that point, one ear was back to the main softball diamond, and another was tuned into my wandering mind.
Everything I had been thinking about for the past 45 minutes was starting to turn blurry. Then came the announcement at 7:30 that the Milledgeville game was declared official and that the Lady Misssiles were the Class 1A State Champions. And that the trophy presentation would begin immediately at the backup diamond.
I promptly took my backpack and headed to the diamond to do my job once more.
It was a nearly two-hour drive for me from East Peoria back home to Sterling. Along the way, I couldn't help but think about the possibility of that game actually resuming.
If all restarted at 8:15, that would have meant another 45 minutes of me pondering the future of my journalism career. Who knows what could have been thought of if that announcement wasn't made.
That could have been my last game. Ever.
But no, I am soldiering on to cover Sterling this weekend in Class 3A. I can only pray that things are much, much, much better for me this time around.
I don't want to go back to Diamond 5 and question myself again.
Current Song - Hold Me Now (Thompson Twins)
This past weekend marked my comeback to normal high school sportswriting after a two-and-a-half month hiatus.
I needed this break because many things in my personal life were out of order. During this break, I had only attended two softball games. Both were Sterling vs. Rock Falls. The key word here is "attended." I didn't cover these games, thus didn't pay attention to any important details.
Covering Milledgeville and St. Bede softball at State this year was my first time ever seeing these particular teams. I had never covered a St. Bede softball game EVER, and the last time I covered a Milledgeville Softball game was in 2006. But these two teams are a part of my coverage area, and so I set out to cover their time at State.
I struggled mightily.
One, I'm not used to standing up to cover a softball or a baseball game. I usually bring my lawn chair and plop it down next to the fence behind home plate. The Milledgeville semifinal game was played on the alternate diamond, where there is no press row.
Since it was my first softball game, I had to refamiliarize myself with my own softball stat templates. That, and hold an umbrella at certain times when the papers got wet. Plus this new thing called Twitter that apparently everyone else is using. Juggling a pen, clipboard, camera, umbrella and a cell phone while standing up to cover a softball game is not fun.
To make matters worse, the second game I was supposed to be covering (St. Bede's semifinal) started in the middle of the Milledgeville semifinal.
Disaster after disaster after disaster.
I ended up Tweeting the final score wrong on the Milledgeville semifinal as 10-2. It was 10-3. When a fellow reporter pointed that out to me, I was beyond embarassed.
I didn't know what to think of myself as I was struggling to get through the rest of the St. Bede game, and then on my way back to my hotel room.
This weekend was turning into a disaster and an embarassment at the same time.
It only got worse for me during the state title game.
Me and another reporter were asked our "Picks to Click" for who was going to hit the first homerun for Milledgeville in the title game. Gee, I didn't know. I had only seen Milledgeville once, but felt like I had to say something to try to show that I was alert.
My choice: "No one."
It confused and baffled the rest of press row, and I was reminded twice that Milledgeville "digs the long ball." Sure enough, Milledgeville hits two homers in the first two innings.
While I was certainly happy for Milledgeville with the two bombs, I couldn't help but feel disappointed in myself. I embarassed myself in front of my own sportswriting colleagues, who thought I was absolutely dumb to make that kind of prediction.
Then I had one of those over-the-top moments: I imagined my sportswriting colleagues making fun of me and trying to push me out of the profession, saying that my time has come to an end. After all, in today's horrible journalism field job security, sometimes we all feel like we are against ourselves when it comes to fighting for our jobs.
I feel they're trying to push me out because I am young and have already developed my own style and own following.
When the rain hit, I went into the upstairs press box while the other reporters were attached to their respective team's every parking lot move.
At 6:45 p.m. I decided to go on a walk. Milledgeville was set to resume at 8:15.
****
I took the sidewalk from the press box all the way to where it came to an end: at the visiting dugout of Diamond 5. It is a little kids' diamond with a covered dugout and a steel bench.
I sat down on the bench, and was alone from the rest of the world.
Tears started rolling down my eyes.
Nine years ago at this very place was the assignment that I considered my greatest and most memorable. I was working for Sauk Valley Media as an 18-year-old part-timer covering my friends from Rock Falls in the Class A finals.
Nine years later, I was falling completely flat as a trusted high school sports journalist.
I had thought back to those 2004 finals. I knew everyone on that team. Everyone. I could tell you what Whitey's batting average was without looking in the program. I could tell you how many innings Korb pitched on the entire season. Et cetera.
Whatever happened during those three (at the time) finals games, I could easily write about. Even when they went 20 innings with Warrensburg-Latham, it was an easy story to write when it came to the mood and feel.
I knew the Rock Falls girls from 9 years ago, and covered half of their games for either the newspaper or for the website. I grew up with them.
I didn't know anyone from Milledgeville, or St. Bede this year. And here I was trying to act as if I knew them, and had covered them throughout the year when I really hadn't. Everyone else on press row knew them, and knew them well. That's because they had been covering their games for a long time and kept up-to-date about them.
I don't get around to seeing these teams, coaches and athletes every day. That goes for almost every team that I have written an article on since starting this website. I have to re-introduce myself to most of the coaches every year if I don't see them at least five times (save a few that actually remember me somehow). This is where my communication disabilities factor in, and it kind of hurts me more.
This puts me at a terrible disadvantage compared to the other guys. It kind of hurts when people ask me questions about a team, or someone on a team, and I am unable to answer the question accurately for them. This leads to a domino effect that would eventually hurt my journalism career.
My journalism career was a sitting duck while I hung my head down low in the Diamond 5 dugout.
I had already committed to covering the 2013-14 school year. But then I thought about the possibility of that being my last. Ever.
I thought about all of the things that covering high school sports all these years has effected me. Massive amounts of money had been spend on fuel to see different worlds and different personalities. The time it takes to devote myself to keeping my beloved trade has certainly impacted my social life.
Not to mention my love life. That was deader than my social life, or my professional life. I couldn't help but think about trading my journalism career for a chance to know what true love is all about (ie. finding a girlfriend, keeping her, loving her, marriage, kids, etc.).
Maybe I would have a chance to hang out with people when I'm not working. Actually have a social life for a change. Have some life in me, instead of having this dark cloud hang over me at all times.
The possibilities of actual happiness - what I certainly am not getting now with what I'm doing between sports and Shell - seemed like a dashed dream to me at that point.
One of the lowest points in my journalism career was suddenly halted by a loudspeaker test coming from the press box.
"Test 1, 2, 3."
At that point, one ear was back to the main softball diamond, and another was tuned into my wandering mind.
Everything I had been thinking about for the past 45 minutes was starting to turn blurry. Then came the announcement at 7:30 that the Milledgeville game was declared official and that the Lady Misssiles were the Class 1A State Champions. And that the trophy presentation would begin immediately at the backup diamond.
I promptly took my backpack and headed to the diamond to do my job once more.
It was a nearly two-hour drive for me from East Peoria back home to Sterling. Along the way, I couldn't help but think about the possibility of that game actually resuming.
If all restarted at 8:15, that would have meant another 45 minutes of me pondering the future of my journalism career. Who knows what could have been thought of if that announcement wasn't made.
That could have been my last game. Ever.
But no, I am soldiering on to cover Sterling this weekend in Class 3A. I can only pray that things are much, much, much better for me this time around.
I don't want to go back to Diamond 5 and question myself again.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Patience
Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.62.50
Current Song - Street Life (Herb Alpert)
One thing led to another, and that another led to a thought about patience.
I've been told that I have incredible patience, in the form of the "been there, done that" attitude.
A lot of that is a defense mechanism at work. I have seen many examples of where the slightest panic will turn into mania, and I've also witnessed the consequences of these manic moments. Therefore, you try to eliminate the root of the problem - which is supressing that slightest panic.
Having incredible patience can give the appearance of me either being boring or not caring at all about something. That's not reality.
Sully, the hero pilot who famously landed an airplane into the Hudson River, was calm in his communication messages to air traffic control. His messages almost seemed like monotone, especially when he stated "we're going to be in the Hudson."
One moment that tested my patience was my car accident on Route 26 north of Lacon in February 2012.
It was a snowy night and I was on my way to cover Wethersfield/Marquette girls basketball at the Varna Midland sectional. I barely went off and hit the gravel off of the road. Steering back onto the road, the momentum was too much and I was spinning on the pavement.
As I was doing a couple of 180-degree turns on the road, my first thought after the natural "Oh, shit ..." was this:
"Eventually the car will come to a stop at some point. No one's driving toward my direction."
When the thought of knowing that I was going to get off the road would come up, my thought after that was:
"My car will stop, but I don't know how. Prepare for the worst."
I immediately took my hands off of the steering wheel and went into a fetal position as best as I could from sitting in the driver seat. I let the car move around until it slowed to a stopping point. I felt a slight lean, but never flipped over. I went into the ditch and landed on my four wheels on a flat surface. I was silent the whole time. I wasn't awkward into the ditch (similar to an accident in Neponset a couple of years prior).
"Am I okay? I'm okay. A little back pain, but I can muscle it out."
I took a deep breath once I realized that I was on flat on all four wheels. Then I was silent for a few seconds.
"Okay."
Then I flipped on the emergency signals and got out of my car, cell phone in hand. Yes, I was able to walk freely on the surface. I was six and a half feet below the road and attempted to make the incline. I made it alright, and waved down the first car that approached. Told him my car went into the road and wondered if he knew how to get a hold of a Marshall County sheriff.
Adding to my patience involved silently telling myself each and every plan after one was done.
If I was okay, all was alright. The car is an inanimate object and there was a way to get home one way or another, because I knew that authorities existed and will be helpful. I then calmly arranged for my car to be removed and towed, and to be taken to Midland High School to cover my game. I was going to call my dad for a ride back home, and any backup plan would be discussed between the two of us.
I was dropped off at Midland by the sheriff and proceeded to cover the basketball game as if the accident never happened. Wethersfield beat Marquette in a game where the Lady Cru's top player was sidelined in the first couple of minutes. I didn't make any mention to anyone there that I was in a car accident, including the coaches that I was interviewing during the usual small talk.
Certainly this was a tale that could be told to the first person that you'd see. Turns out that my first interview was with Marquette's head coach. It would be absolutely foolish to mention anything about my misfortune when there was misfortune clouding the Lady Cru after the game: their season came to a sudden end, and the star player was in bad pain. After all, the game was about them and not about me.
As I was riding along with my dad, I was talking to my friend Bill on the phone. I mentioned that I was in a car accident, and his reaction was immediate panic and loud concern. (He had been involved in a much larger-scale accident coming back from a volleyball match at L-P). Then my dad's truck got rear-ended real hard on I-80 in Princeton, while I was talking to Bill.
My phone slipped from my hands and went under the seat. The phone was still on and I couldn't find it for a while. Meanwhile, Bill, at the other end of the phone, was panicking beyond belief. When I finally found my phone, I patiently told him what had happened. It kind of irked me a little that he was panicking more than I was - after all, I was the one actually involved in the car crash and not him.
I wrote and posted my article in usual time when I got home.
My car was at a shop in Henry and dad and I went down (in my Aunt Judy's car) to pick it up. The other semifinal of that sectional was that night between Annawan and Hinckley-Big Rock - two of my closest girls basketball teams that year in terms of friendship. I didn't want to miss that.
When I got home, I mentioned on Facebook that I was in a car accident on my way to Varna that night. Word reached my friends in Annawan and Hinckley. So when I walked into Midland High School the next night, Annawan's head coach broke a team conversation to ask me if I was alright. So did H-BR's when I made my way over there. While I appreciated the concern, I tried to play down my events as best as I could because this night wasn't about me.
One of Annawan's star sophomores was playing with a cold. One of Hinckley's star seniors saw her career end after four years as a player and many more before that as a manager. My misfortunes meant nothing compared to these, and I wanted to play down my ordeals and not mention it among these.
I did feel a bit too sore to cover the sectional championship game that Thursday between Annawan and Wethersfield, so I sent Bill down there to cover it.
***
You may have noticed that in my quoted dialogue that I did not use exclaimation points. I did not panic. I did not scream. I kept calm.
Other people in this situation would panic, scream and even cry. I didn't feel the need to do any of that.
However, if I had a woman in my life, and kids of my own, I probably wouldn't be as patient as I was that night. You live your life for them, and the thought of them living without you is the most dreadful thing you can think of.
It took me a little while to figure out why Bill was more emotional than I was during our phone conversation. He is married with three boys. I am single and never dated.
I can't wait for that day when I find true love. After that, I'll need to equip myself with that level of concern if I were to run into another ditch.
Current Song - Street Life (Herb Alpert)
One thing led to another, and that another led to a thought about patience.
I've been told that I have incredible patience, in the form of the "been there, done that" attitude.
A lot of that is a defense mechanism at work. I have seen many examples of where the slightest panic will turn into mania, and I've also witnessed the consequences of these manic moments. Therefore, you try to eliminate the root of the problem - which is supressing that slightest panic.
Having incredible patience can give the appearance of me either being boring or not caring at all about something. That's not reality.
Sully, the hero pilot who famously landed an airplane into the Hudson River, was calm in his communication messages to air traffic control. His messages almost seemed like monotone, especially when he stated "we're going to be in the Hudson."
One moment that tested my patience was my car accident on Route 26 north of Lacon in February 2012.
It was a snowy night and I was on my way to cover Wethersfield/Marquette girls basketball at the Varna Midland sectional. I barely went off and hit the gravel off of the road. Steering back onto the road, the momentum was too much and I was spinning on the pavement.
As I was doing a couple of 180-degree turns on the road, my first thought after the natural "Oh, shit ..." was this:
"Eventually the car will come to a stop at some point. No one's driving toward my direction."
When the thought of knowing that I was going to get off the road would come up, my thought after that was:
"My car will stop, but I don't know how. Prepare for the worst."
I immediately took my hands off of the steering wheel and went into a fetal position as best as I could from sitting in the driver seat. I let the car move around until it slowed to a stopping point. I felt a slight lean, but never flipped over. I went into the ditch and landed on my four wheels on a flat surface. I was silent the whole time. I wasn't awkward into the ditch (similar to an accident in Neponset a couple of years prior).
"Am I okay? I'm okay. A little back pain, but I can muscle it out."
I took a deep breath once I realized that I was on flat on all four wheels. Then I was silent for a few seconds.
"Okay."
Then I flipped on the emergency signals and got out of my car, cell phone in hand. Yes, I was able to walk freely on the surface. I was six and a half feet below the road and attempted to make the incline. I made it alright, and waved down the first car that approached. Told him my car went into the road and wondered if he knew how to get a hold of a Marshall County sheriff.
Adding to my patience involved silently telling myself each and every plan after one was done.
If I was okay, all was alright. The car is an inanimate object and there was a way to get home one way or another, because I knew that authorities existed and will be helpful. I then calmly arranged for my car to be removed and towed, and to be taken to Midland High School to cover my game. I was going to call my dad for a ride back home, and any backup plan would be discussed between the two of us.
I was dropped off at Midland by the sheriff and proceeded to cover the basketball game as if the accident never happened. Wethersfield beat Marquette in a game where the Lady Cru's top player was sidelined in the first couple of minutes. I didn't make any mention to anyone there that I was in a car accident, including the coaches that I was interviewing during the usual small talk.
Certainly this was a tale that could be told to the first person that you'd see. Turns out that my first interview was with Marquette's head coach. It would be absolutely foolish to mention anything about my misfortune when there was misfortune clouding the Lady Cru after the game: their season came to a sudden end, and the star player was in bad pain. After all, the game was about them and not about me.
As I was riding along with my dad, I was talking to my friend Bill on the phone. I mentioned that I was in a car accident, and his reaction was immediate panic and loud concern. (He had been involved in a much larger-scale accident coming back from a volleyball match at L-P). Then my dad's truck got rear-ended real hard on I-80 in Princeton, while I was talking to Bill.
My phone slipped from my hands and went under the seat. The phone was still on and I couldn't find it for a while. Meanwhile, Bill, at the other end of the phone, was panicking beyond belief. When I finally found my phone, I patiently told him what had happened. It kind of irked me a little that he was panicking more than I was - after all, I was the one actually involved in the car crash and not him.
I wrote and posted my article in usual time when I got home.
My car was at a shop in Henry and dad and I went down (in my Aunt Judy's car) to pick it up. The other semifinal of that sectional was that night between Annawan and Hinckley-Big Rock - two of my closest girls basketball teams that year in terms of friendship. I didn't want to miss that.
When I got home, I mentioned on Facebook that I was in a car accident on my way to Varna that night. Word reached my friends in Annawan and Hinckley. So when I walked into Midland High School the next night, Annawan's head coach broke a team conversation to ask me if I was alright. So did H-BR's when I made my way over there. While I appreciated the concern, I tried to play down my events as best as I could because this night wasn't about me.
One of Annawan's star sophomores was playing with a cold. One of Hinckley's star seniors saw her career end after four years as a player and many more before that as a manager. My misfortunes meant nothing compared to these, and I wanted to play down my ordeals and not mention it among these.
I did feel a bit too sore to cover the sectional championship game that Thursday between Annawan and Wethersfield, so I sent Bill down there to cover it.
***
You may have noticed that in my quoted dialogue that I did not use exclaimation points. I did not panic. I did not scream. I kept calm.
Other people in this situation would panic, scream and even cry. I didn't feel the need to do any of that.
However, if I had a woman in my life, and kids of my own, I probably wouldn't be as patient as I was that night. You live your life for them, and the thought of them living without you is the most dreadful thing you can think of.
It took me a little while to figure out why Bill was more emotional than I was during our phone conversation. He is married with three boys. I am single and never dated.
I can't wait for that day when I find true love. After that, I'll need to equip myself with that level of concern if I were to run into another ditch.
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