It Just Won't Quit

A lot of people know me. Thus, I've been around a lot of girls over the years. Out of those girls are some that I loved. And through the years, I've had to let go of these such girls, one by one.

Some let go on my own. Some yanked from me. There was one girl that was yanked from me, and I couldn't get over it for years (spot the pun in this one). That's the second-best girl in my life. But there lies one more. She is the love that I can never seem to let go of.

Today is her birthday.

May 17 is a day that means a lot to me. It was the day I moved from Rock Falls to Sterling, a day that still bothers me to this very moment. If that is the dark shadow of what May 17 means to me, the bright light of this day is the fact that it is the birthday of this girl, whom I consider to be a very important person in my life.

Amber.

Throughout this Blog, I have scattered around various moments of us. But not in actual order. So here goes.

***

I was lost in new surroundings some 16 years ago. I didn't know anybody, and the summer and the first two months of 5th grade were very depressing as I struggled to find new friends and acquaintnces.

I don't remember how it ALL began, but the vague memory of me sitting up along a shaded pine tree next to the playground comes to mind. Her and her friends would come up and check on me. She was always the first person to walk toward me in her group and talk. And she smiled more than anyone else. She was always playing with my mind in a way that made me think about her quite a bit. I really liked that.

Her presence pulled me back into reality and made me want to continue on. I will never know if this was an act of God, or on purpose. I just couldn't get my mind off of it, then came that funny feeling of "I think I love her." Throughout the school year, her and I connected on occasion in ways that girls don't normally treat boys.

I still remember the day she laid her head on my shoulder in the library. Her, and two more girls. But it was her's that I leaned on the most. I was reading a Charlie Brown comic collection book, and she was to my right reading along with me. Kind of like an informal flirt, and I never felt that before.

That's when I learned of the boy she actually liked. All of a sudden she took her head off my shoulder and told me she didn't like me anymore. The other two told me about this other boy. Was I depressed? A little. But all of that seemed to go away when she would continue picking on me - in a cute way - as the months went on.

All of a sudden everyone in the class knew – even our teacher knew – that I had a crush on her. But there was some sort of feeling that told me, “she hates me.”

Throughout fifth grade, she would in one way or another find a way to make me smile and make my day a bright one.

Music class was early in our school day. There were a couple of moments that seemed to set the tone for the rest of the day, I hoped. One day we all laid down on the carpeted floor to watch an old music film, and she went over to where I was laying and laid down next to me. Needless to say, I don't remember the film.

However, the other moment involved The Music Man. There's this musical number involving Marian the Librarian, and a song is sung with the emphasis on the "... IAN!" Every time after the first in which it was done, she would give me an elbow. Then she wouldn't. Then she would. It was catch me off-guard, and I went along with the act by doing a surprise jolt when she elbowed me. These jolts would make her laugh.

I still remember Valentine's Day; with the envelope marked "xoxoxo" and the red hearts on the envelope all circled - and the card of Eeyore and Piglet cheek-to-cheek with her name above Piglet, and mine above Eeyore. I couldn't believe it, as this was unlike any valentine I had seen before. In fact, I couldn't believe it so much, that I had to ask Adam (who was sitting next to me) if her valentine to him had the same thing on it. Not too long after that, she walked over to my desk and asked me, "Will you be my valentine?"

I didn't let go of that valentine card the rest of the day. My parents noticed that. When I went to bed that night, my mom walked in and wanted to know all about this valentine. I showed her everything and sort of explained the whole thing.

In just a few short months, I went from depressed to experiencing a feeling that was very different. I couldn't quite understand all of it, and I felt like writing all about it. I asked my parents for a journal for my 12th Birthday. I got it, alright. It was a Coca-Cola journal with a polar bear on the front of it.

I wrote about everything and anything.

Here are actual specifics, only mentioning the parts about her:

April 28: "The girls sung happy birthday to me. Then I told Dusty that what I wanted for a present was one of the the girls. After science, Amber wanted to help pass out the treats, and so, I picked her."

I didn't write every detail, but what I remember most about that day was her eagerness to have me pick her to help me pass out birthday treats. She had her hand held very high and waving it, smiling and moaning to me at the same time.

April 29: "When I was going to the bathroom, there were Amber, Sierra and Sydni, they said that Amber loves me. After that at lunch, somebody was pinching me, I didn't know who? It was either Amber or Sydni."

April 30: "Amber told a girl secret to me. Then at music, Amber wanted me to sit by her and have some kisses. I sat by her, but we didn't have kisses."

May 2: "After I put the garbage away [after helping out with the bike rodeo] I went to Amber's locker, and took her sucker out and ate it."

May 4: "I was worried about what would happen to me and my hair [I had it cut the day earlier]. Amber said I looked like a girl. Then when I sat down to watch the Music Man, to my surprise, Amber was sitting next to me. When I was walking to recess, I went into my classroom, sang the "Tarzan Yell", and there came Amber. I shut the door quickly, then all the girls went up to the door, and I sung "Old MacDonald." They thought I was Adam, but I opened the door. Then Sierra pushed Amber into the closet where I was and shut the door. We spend 10 sec. in there. At the end of the day, I was getting my things when I had my shoulder up, and Amber, again said a quote from the video. "Maaaaarrrr-ION" and at "ION," she pounded my wlbow. That tells me she in love with me."

We didn't do anything during those 10 seconds in the closet. We didn't. Really.

May 5: "Amber went up to me and wanted me to talk to her in private. She said something to me and poked my stomach and did the Pilsbury doh boy to me. ... I found a pair of ear rings that I could give to Amber. I would put them in her desk."

I gained some weight during this otherwise depressing time in my life, which has led to the weight problem I have now. All I remember about the ear rings are that they had a greenish rock in the middle of them.

May 6: "I got caught with the ear rings at 12:30 AM. But I took them to school again. ... I was singing and Jake Munz and Luis Baca pushed me over to the girls and they did the Pilsbury dough boy thing to me again. We went inside and Amber found those earrings. Nobody claimed them but I know it's me. After school she wanted to know (Amber) if I was still her boyfriend."

The whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing I don't think is actually true, since the both of us never recognized it at the same time and to each other. When Amber found the ear rings I remember her saying very loudly and in shock, "EAR RINGS!" I think five minutes of class time was devoted to trying to figure out who gave her these. Of course all of the fingers were pointing to me and I had to have found a way to convince everyone otherwise.

May 7: "Does Amber love me? That's the big question. When I was sitting at music, she always looked at me all the time. ... At SSR [silent sustained reading], I stapled my Time Magazine [those little handout versions for kids]. When we read them, I was looking towards Amber, then I saw her smiling. I would turn around, and she would do it again. It happened 20 times. On one of them, she was making kissing sounds. I have a field trip tomorrow, and I'm hoping that Amber sits next to me on the bus."

I sat toward the front of the class and to the left. She sat toward the back of the class and to the right. So it was easy to see her. Then again, her smiles were easy for our teacher to spot, too.

All this time, I was trying to find myself in these new surroundings and I was struggling mightily. However, when I was down I kept thinking about her. I noticed that for some reason she would treat me differently than the other boys in the class. I couldn't quite figure that out.

May 8: "The day of the field trip. No, Amber didn't sit next to me, but on the way there I was sitting next to Brian [Spangler, her cousin], humming some songs; Light My Fire and Love Me Do, and Brian told Amber (who was sitting 2 seats away from me) that I want to sing songs about her. ... That attracted her. She kept on smiling to me. ... She smiled to me again, and want to sing that song to her again, over & over again."

The field trip was to Galena. The song in the story is "Light My Fire" by The Doors. She thought I came up with the words (and not Jim Morrison). When she wanted me to "sing that song over and over again," we were inside a room at the Grant home.

May 9: "My mom found a knee-bracelet that I could give to Amber, I think it would go with the I Love You note I writed yesterday."

I have no recollection of this particular I Love You note.

May 11: "Sitting in music assigned seats was ... Well, I thought I would go under major back surgery when I got slapped in the back 10 times by Amber. Amber sits next to me in the seating order in music. When we were watching a movie, Stacie sat on the floor next to me, then Sarah H, and then Amber. I passed 2 notes. One was "my chair is stiff" & "Light My Fire." Eventually the whole class read it. Since I made "Light My Fire," Amber made "La Bamba" and wanted to dance."

I think I didn't write these notes, but someone else did ...

May 12: "Amber only smiled once to me. Bad day."

(I wrote a couple of days back about May 14. That was the day Amber (and Sierra, too) kissed me on the cheek.)

May 20: "Me and my girlfriend, Amber, was in a group with me. We were doing things with gears [in science (???) class], the gear went loose, hit my leg and I said "someone call 911 I'm hurt!" She cracked up. I was going to pay my money [at lunch] when Amber, who was behind me, kept on pushing me for fun, then, when I went to get the app. Sause my milk went out of the plate. She cracked up."

Again, we weren't really BF/GF. Both of us will tell you that. Amber probably more louder than me.

May 22: "Amber now calls me 'her man.'"

May 27: "Ambers student of the week. Afraid. Tention kicks back. but this time during the summer, you see, I won't get to see people that often. Amber, Sarah, Adam, and a whole lot of other people."

The journal ceased over the summer.

During the Summer of 1998 I was allowed to ride my bike into Rock Falls, as my parents didn't allow me to do that until then. That's when I met up with some of my classmates from Merrill, as well as the softball girls that I've known for years.

Middle school drifted Amber and I apart. I met more girls. She met more boys. All I can remember about the two of us in middle school is that I wrote a couple of notes to her and slipped them in her locker. I don't remember the first. I do remember the second. I was very depressed and wrote to her in the tone of "I can't live without you" or something like that. Apparently she gave the note to her teacher, to give to the school counselor. I had an hour-long chat with the counselor over this, and my parents knew.

Another memory involved putting my arm around her shoulders after one of the school dances and telling her goodbye.

I'm very glad I have kept this journal. It had been buried in a box for years. The next time I'd keep a journal would be the start of this Blog (the 1st version) in 2005.

I hoped that one day I could win her love. I never did. Middle school passed. High school passed. More and more girls came into my life. But these girls have all since come and gone. For many years, she was the only link that I have held on to.

Perhaps that's because I find myself moving on with my life, living alone in my new house. When the thought of significant others comes into mind, she is the first that comes up. As the years have passed, I have appreciated these moments more and more. We've had little contact since graduating high school. But every time I see her it makes my day.

Do I have a chance to win her heart today? I think time has eliminated that possibility. I accepted that fact long ago, even though no one I know compares to her. I still love her very much, but not in the same way as I did back then. You can call this collection of memories a cheesy way of reconnecting, but that's not the purpose of all this - it's to honor her on her birthday.

One day, when I was thinking about all of those memories, I penned a letter on my computer and sent it to her via Facebook. I was hoping for either closure or something to pull us together. I heard back a couple of months later. She didn't know how to take it all in, and appreciated everything. I've never had the courage to say this, but she truly does mean the world to me.

I wouldn't be who I am without her. If it wasn't for her kindness and her thrill for teasing me, I think I'd be sitting along that pine tree all year long. Getting worse in middle school, and probably a complete 180 of who I am now. She is the closest to a girlfriend I have ever had, despite indeed having one brief moment of that feeling as a freshman.

As you can read, I've been beaten, picked on, elbowed, and even poked. But after all of these came a smile.

Amber carried me through a very tough time in my life. This is a testament to the kind of person she is. I could have been thrown to the wayside like Josh and Ryan - the other two new kids in our class that year. But she had a soft side for me that was not shown to anyone else that year. That made me feel very happy inside, and I can't thank her enough.

Pecks on the Cheek

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.41.50
Current Song - Just The Way You Are (Billy Joel)

I don't have a lot of 5th grade stories. Probably because that was a dark time in my life.

Having to get used to this new environment at Lincoln from Merrill was difficult, but I eventually got out of the pits of hell and plowed along.

I have Amber to thank for that.

There were many things I liked about her, and early on she would know about this. She actually liked someone else at that time, and could have totally dismissed me. She didn't do that, and I saw that as something special.

From the time we held our arms around each other's shoulders while reading in the library, to that day she kept smiling at me - all day long - these were the little things that would make my otherwise difficult time a great one.

Just out of luck, and I can't remember why, I had started to write some of these events down in a notebook in journal form (a precursor to this Blog). Taking a page out of the book of Nickelodeon's "Doug" I wrote in a journal. I still have it after all these years.

The entry for May 14, 1998, in my poor 5th grade handwriting:

"I will never forget this day! I will never forget this day! My dream came true! (twice) Everybody knows I'm weird, but this is the weirdest (not really) day of my life, my greatest! It all started when I read the phone book at the carpet. I was sitting on the pillow when I put the pillow over my head, somebody, (I found out it was Natasha) wrote "HOT!" on my knee. I went to the table. Me, Natasha, & Sierra smiled back and fourth. I went to the B-room, and sat there. Sierra & Natasha knew I went to the B-room. They gave me a note.

'Cody, Your're so hot, I love you to death. Your strong muscales make my eyeballs pop out. Will you go out with me? Do youn love me? Answer now. I love you four (4) life. Love your lover, Natasha & Sierra.'

Stacie also gave me a note, but I threw it away, I was sitting at the floor when ... Sierra went in the B-room, held my face and kissed me!! I told other boys all about it. I went out, and then ... Amber held on to my shoulder and kissed me!! Sarah H. said hello to me. At lunch, I sat near the girls. After school, Amber wanted to know my address. I gave it to Brian to tell to her. At B-ball pract. A.J., our star player was injured due to a twisted ankle.

Other notes that were passed [arrow leads to next page] 'Write down who you like' & 'I love you, Amber does too.' Amber wanted to know it she wanted to see me at night. We didn't."

I wrote a lot in code back then. "B-room" meant the restroom. It was a sanctuary where only boys could enter, and girls could not. The whole "carpet" and "table" thing was part of a language arts routine, where we all read books in silent at the carpet, and we had a small group lesson at the table. I did goofy things like that to create fun.

I remember a little more about these two kisses than what I wrote down that day. As I mentioned, the boys restroom was a place where only boys could enter. There were short walls on two sides of the entrance door, where I sat down at. Then Sierra comes in and I'm in shock that a girl would actually enter the boys restroom. I don't remember much about that other than the kiss. Then when I do leave, Amber said a few words to me (I can't remember what) before she kissed me.

Since this all happened before lunch, I'm think this was one big, out-of-control restroom break where one person went to the restroom and then another and then another.

The whole Cody-Amber thing continued on with the field trip to Galena, where I sung a song for her. It was "Light my Fire" by the Doors (actually the first verse). She actually thought I wrote the song. After that, middle school kicked in and things sort of dissolved from there. We met more people and the rest is history.

All of which was documented in my Coca-Cola designed journal. It seemed to have every little interaction with her in it. One of which involved whether we were boyfriend-girlfriend. It may have been a little joke, but one entry contained the phrase "my girlfriend Amber," which I think was just me dreaming than being truthful.

She was the light that shined upon me in 5th grade, and without it I don't know where I'd be today. For that I'll always love her, even though we rarely see each other.

Filling An Empty Heart --- Part II

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.31.50
Current Song - Nadia's Theme (Henry Mancini)

Went back to my bench last night. Talked to the Lord again.

I had a feeling that another realization was going to brew from the one I made already.

There have only been two times in my life so far in which I have experienced the Q&A. The first time was in seventh grade. That was, of course, met with a "no." I never quite took the time to analyze why that was the case. Back then, the only answer was "she doesn't like me." However, the older you get the more you can try to understand why it was the case.

While thinking of the failures of my one and only true relationship, it led me to think about the failure about this particular seventh grade opportunity.

When I thought of the buildup and the stepping stones toward making my one and only relationship official, this particular time in seventh grade lacked all of that. Looking back, it seemed to be one major jump after another without the time to really work on building, maintaining and strengthening a deeper friendship.

I went from saying,"Gee, I really like her," to "I think she's the one," to giving her roses at the Valentine's Day dance, to asking her out on the telephone.

I thought I was doing the right thing. Heck, I had NEVER seen any of my friends present roses at a school dance to someone before.

She just wasn't ready. I was going too fast.

Her and I knew each other in school, but never really hung out outside of school. She sat next to me in sixth grade, and I think that is when she kind of knew a little more about me. That, in turn, led to me knowing just a little more about her. But still, we never really saw each other outside of school. Now if that opportunity ever presented itself, you're darn right that I would have jumped at that opportunity. But it never happened.

This is where my disabilities factor in, as it is tough for me to engage in friendship strengthening.

Looking back at all of the middle school relationships that I knew about, both the boy and the girl seemed to know each other well, hung out with each other at recess, sat in the same area in the lunch room, went to each other's houses, etc. All of that BEFORE I saw them holding hands in the hallways.

It all makes sense now.

I was a quiet kid IN school, and a quiet kid OUT of school. It is difficult to remember the few times that I had out-of-school interactions with my classmates during middle school. Seriously. I reconnected with my best friend from Kindergarten, Seth, once we were at middle school together. There was that one day when I went to Sinississippi with Adam and Nick, but only because I felt sad one night at a school dance. There were those couple of times when I would ride my bike to North End Shell to grab a Pepsi for Michelle or Ashley. I had to beg to go to Corey and Nathan's Birthday party at Corey's, as it seemed like everyone was invited except for me.

I simply cannot remember any other interactions. Sad, isn't it? I was just way too shy.

It was considered rare to see me at a function outside of the school setting with a group of friends. The key word is with. When Newmanfest was at the Mall, I was there, but not with anyone.

Newmanfest ... that's the fair with the Zipper. You knew you could get something accomplished when you got to ride on the Zipper with someone - as it is a ride where two people (and NOT one) could ride. I tried to hatch a plan into riding on it with another girl, but that fell through. (The only time I ever rode on the Zipper was in grade school with my cousin Pammie).

That girl was from Rock Falls.

Friendships, you see, were actually easy for me to strengthen until I was about 12 years old. I'm beating a dead horse here but it was because of the move to Sterling. Therefore, I wanted to go back.

One thing led to another, and throughout middle school and high school, the people who I consider my greatest friends were those little league softball girls. And they still are.

The big misconception with having built a great rapport with these girls is that I dated them, hung out with them, went to their houses, etc. Actually, none of that ever happened. We really only huge out with each other at sports events. But when I look at the building process of a friendship, there is a lot I can determine from having been their friends all these years.

I think there was one girl that I may have come close to going the next step further in a friendship. I guess I just didn't know how to make that happen. Same girl I tried riding on the Zipper with. Not who most people think it is, either.

I did such a poor job socially. I didn't really have a true "best" friend that I could tell share my biggest thoughts and concerns with. Perhaps I wouldn't have this eight-year-old Blog if that would have happened, as I'm now just writing things in hopes that someone would read it. I did such a poor job socially, and it's biting me in the butt right now since we're all moving on.

I keep telling myself that if I would have just SAID SOMETHING back then, things would be much better today.

Perhaps I should work harder on trying to strengthen and maintain friendships before I can even think about these relationships.

I failed in that regard in seventh grade. I didn't know that "dates" come before "relationships." And these dates don't have to be that one grand, official event. Just a get-together apparently qualifies.

***

I thought of all of this while looking at more stars. There just happened to be a star formation that looked like a cross, and I stared at that while thinking this deep.

This is perhaps, just as big a challenge as dropping these pounds.

Weight Update

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.11.50
Current Song - Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)

Six months have passed since I decided to make a change with how I look and feel physically and mentally.

I recently dipped under 300 pounds, doing so for the first time since the spring of 2010. Back then, I was 298 (a loss of 40 pounds from a year prior) before embarking on a vacation trip to Cooperstown and Canton. I think the vacation threw things off a bit, and I wound up putting on quite a bit from that point forward.

I came back from a two-day vacation not too long ago. Prior to that, I hit the -50 mark by going from 343 in November to 293. Since that, however, I'm back up +5 to 298. Before you think five pounds is a lot, think of this: Five pounds on my frame is different than five pounds on an average person's frame.

While this may cause panic, I have learned to keep calm and move forward. Most people would freak out, and that just leads to the whole thing being washed away.

As of this writing, I am down 45 pounds since November. That's better than -10, +10, or +45. The trend is downward from a particular point. I'm fine with that.

When I started this whole adventure, I was unsure about how to put together a "goal" and a process to meet and maintain that goal. I had never, ever, undergone a routine such as the one I am working on now. My goal looked like nothing but going downward.

In the past six months, I have learned quite a bit about maintaining a trend. When people push me, I get that feeling that I would eventually end up like a couple of my former football coaches. One summer at the start of football season, one of them looked like he was half of his size from the year prior. Over the next 2-3 years he put back on what he had lost over the course of one year. Another football coach had the same thing happen to him.

One of the first tips given to me in all of this was the following, from another area high school football coach:

"My advice is to take it slow, very slow. Slow changes in diet, slow progress with exercise. Many bigger people try to run and do a lot of impact exercise and it backfires. You are better off losing a little weight that you can keep off than losing a lot and gaining all and more back. Weight loss is more about eating than exercising. Learn to use a calorie and exercise tracker like my fitness pal and it will become more of a science for you."

Am I serious about losing weight? Yes.

Am I going to kill myself doing it? No.

What I can't change is my schedule of things: work, website, home life, etc. While trying to keep these things afloat, I needed to find a way to knock a few off.

Eliminating website work since March has factored into a -50 loss. I will pick it up again briefly for two weekends in late May and early June, but then it's another break until the first Wednesday in August.

This is the third time since starting that I have "fallen off the wagon," however, I really haven't. I'm taking three steps forward and one step back. That "one step back" is important. I think this has really helped me in comparison to taking nothing up steps forward. I probably would have been exhausted by about -30.

By taking that small step back, that gives me more motivation to chop away more pounds. It's all a downward trend, still.

So now that I went back up again, I'm back to recommitting to the whole thing, again.

That's the plan all along. I'm still down 45.

I should also add that I have yet to consult a doctor on any of this, or am on any kind of system. It's my own made-up scheme.

***

I am down 45 pounds because of eating less than I had been and moving around a little more than I had been. I don't feel that I have plateaued yet. Of course, there are other ways to lose weight (strength training, vitamins, nutritional supplements - all of which I haven't even touched yet), and my plan is to switch gears to something else when things start to run off-course of my plan.

I have thought already of backups and grenades for my long-term path. It's better than scrambling silly for something at the first sign of trouble.

Lately, I have acquired more motivation to help guide me. There are others on the same mission as I am. They're not as large as I am, but still.

Filling An Empty Heart --- Part I

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.10.50
Current Song - Just The Way You Are (Billy Joel)

Apparently I have the okay.

In my search to find out more about relationships, I took a walk not too far from my house. I sat on a bench at 14th Avenue Park and stared at the few stars that were in the sky.

It is a quiet enough spot: away from the dam, and away from the sight of many people. Open sky. Just as long as a train doesn't pass by. There is plenty of warning for when a train comes from the east, as you can see the light from the Nelson Bridge.

Anyway, the quietness made me think about certain things deeper. I don't know exactly how it happened, but I thought about the Question and Answer.

Only one time had I experienced the answer of "yes" to the question "Will you go out with me?"

Freshman year, 2002. Alicia.

I had always considered this to be so much a failure that I have denied the existence of this even happening. We got past Q&A and that was it. That was my only success out of two.

When I say, "I've never had a girlfriend," that is actually not true. I did have one. I just denied the existence of it because it was so poor. We completed Step No. 1.

That led me to believe that other relationships only got as far as ours. And even the possibility that relationships have existed where the breakup happened a mere seconds after "Yes."

I kept denying the existence of it because it was so bad. I don't know if Alicia denies the existence of this herself (in fact, we haven't even talked or seen each other since our freshman year). I simply wasn't ready to proceed forward after making it official.

I found out that the Q&A was the EASIEST part of the relationship. It takes so much more to maintain it. I failed in that regard when we were to see each other after one of the RF boys basketball games. We broke up not too long after that night.

I remember when we made it official. I was so excited to have a girlfriend that I mass messaged all of my friends on ICQ that I had FINALLY found the girl. I remember all of the congratulations and such. Wish I could have made it happen more.

I just wasn't ready yet. I was too excited to break the curse that I had completely forgotten about the inner workings of what a relationship is.

Looking at it a little more, many relationships had beginnings and ends. Turns out this one had both, despite its short lifespan.

So I guess it DID happen, and my tally is "1" instead of "0".

Since I have blocked out the existence of this relationship, I failed to learn from the mistakes that doom it. I have re-analyzed the whole relationship from accepting her ICQ friend request until the breakup:

I wasn't willing: ICQ and what else in terms of conversation??
Two-way streets are better than one.
I rarely consulted my parents for advice on how to make it all work. I was so afraid of hearing tactics that worked for them in 1983 and my belief that they wouldn't work in 2002. That, and pushing me into things that I just wasn't ready for.

Another thing I am realizing, now that I am recognizing my relationship with Alicia into existence once more is remembering the whole build-up before the Q&A. We talked on ICQ all of the time, and even had some phone conversations. We were both nervous to meet for the first time. We chatted about many things, from love to just about anything you could think of. It was to the point where I couldn't wait to see her name pop up in chat.

Another lesson learned from this relationship is to strengthen the build-up that eventually leads to the Q&A. I feel if I could have done a lot more in this process, things would have been much easier in the relationship after the Q&A.

Also, now that I'm at peace with considering this the only relationship I've had to date, I can't thank Joi enough for her efforts to try to get Alicia and I together.

So it did happen. This feels like an important discovery. I'm anxious to learn from my mistakes.

Filling An Empty Heart

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3120.90.50
Current Song - Deacon Blues (Steely Dan)

The thing that has been on my mind these past couple of weeks involves my "failure" with relationships. I have felt that time has really passed me by, as I am single at 27 and people that I've hung out with over the years are married with 1-4 children.

My parents were 19 when they were married. My mom's mom married at 18 (although that didn't last). My dad's parents were 20 when they got married. My dad's mom's mom was 18 when she got married, and her mom and dad were about 20 when they got married. So young marriages and early births run in the family. To further prove this point, if my great-great grandfather Everett were alive today, he would be 106 years old.

However, I know full well that marrying between 18-21 is not the norm. Since I grew up knowing all of that, however, I tended to think that this was the norm. Not really, and I am okay with that.

Me, along with my three little brothers and my cousin Justin, are all 21 or older. No wife. No kids. For a long time, I thought it was my fault for not being able to set the example and be a case study - especially for Chris and Daniel. All of which have had a certain one-up on me in the form of either a girlfriend or a prom/homecoming date (I have had NONE of such, unfortunately).

With this question consuming every waking moment of my mind, I decided to hit the books. Library books.

After a couple, the next book on the slate was "If You Really Loved Me." The cover stated that it had answers to 100 questions about all that good stuff. I checked it out in hopes that it would answer a few questions I had in regards to why things haven't worked out.

Reading the back cover a little closely, I noticed that this was a religious book. Bible scriptures, capitalized "He"s and all that like.

For all but a couple of brief episodes of my life, I hadn't really bothered much with religion. When I was about 8-9 I attended a Congregational church to coincide with my late uncle Scott becoming our godfather. About 8-9 years ago, I had attended some Southern Baptist services. I found those a little awkward and demanding. I didn't get it, and I stopped going.

Reading this book was probably the most "religious" thing I have done since the last time I regularly attended church. Remember, when I checked out this book from the library, I had NO IDEA it had a religious theme.

But I decided to read into it.

I couldn't stop reading it.

One passage stood out the most to me. Within the 231-page book, THIS was on page 50-51:

"Here's now singles view the world of relationships: 'God created earth - that's 199 million square miles, for the record. Then God created my soul mate and put her out there somewhere. My job is to find her, and God's job seems to be to hide her from me for as long as physically possible. It is a delicate matter. If I sit at the wrong table during lunch, or do not keep my eyes constantly scanning, I might miss her. Destiny could slip from between my fingertips because I was careless. I'm prepared to exhaust myself until I find her.'

If this rings a bell, then it's time to hand the matter over to God."

That's me, alright. Everyone I know knows that.

The more I thought about it, the more I decided that it was best to do just that:  hand the matter over to the more trusted hands of God's.

However, I have never really been a religious person for God to have trust in me. But I am told that He loves all, so I figured it's worth a shot. I had never dealt with Him before in such matters, but I know well that this is not a one-way street.

As I handed over the matter into trusted hands, after 15 years of frustration, I had been persuaded by Him to think some things over about myself and correct them. We would be working together to help solve the matter.

I must find it somewhere within myself to improve on this, by thinking EVERYTHING in regards to love all over. I shall do this.

I took some time last night to think about this process. I took a short walk from my house over to a bench at 14th Avenue Park, and sat and thought while staring at the few stars that were up.

I made one realization last night.

***

Now before I go ay further, I'd like to inform all of this Blog's readers that this will fall under a new series called "Filling An Empty Heart."

I have "Part I" planned, but I'm looking for some input.

Thinking about all of this may involve many past memories regarding the girls that I've met in my life. I only mention names when it's really necessary. They say it's not best to work on relationships by mentioning publically the past events with past people - especially when that special women COULD be reading it. But I tend to learn and understand more when putting thoughts from my head into words and sentences - for feedback.

Or perhaps I should seek private consultation?

Clique Talk --- An "eCard" that I found offensive

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.60.50
Current Song - The Best Is Yet to come (Frank Sinatra)



I saw this posted on a friend's Facebook wall not too long ago. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

Probably because I don't find it "funny" at all.

Okay, maybe I have failed to find the humor behind this because of my condition, you say. NOPE. I really don't find it funny at all.

This is because I have friends that were called "whores," "hoes," and "sluts" in school. This card made me think of them, and how sorry I felt for them having been called such things.

Even worse, there have been classmates that have told me to stay away from either a certain girl or a group of girls because of this. They'll throw in such words as "STD's," "everyone in town has had a ride," and my least favorite of all, "diseased."

I know of classmates that have referred to certain girls as "diseased," and I swear I wanted to knock them upside the head. I never did, because I didn't want to get in trouble. However, when you hear such things said, it will linger in your mind for a long time - even longer when more and more people are saying the same thing.

Every school had a few. The negative connotations start in middle school (junior high) when the kids start to learn about such language. Most of the time, they get the connections wrong by jumping to conclusions about people.

Here's how it happens: The kid becomes introduced to the descriptive word and its everyday use. "She is (this)." Then the kid tries to associate such a connotation to someone they know. "That's kind of like (her)." Then such information gets leaked out to the vast groups of people that middle school was created for (as a merger of two or more groups of different kids from different elementary schools).

This is how every clique takes shape. Cliques are a part of every middle school, but the most degrading one are that of the "bitches, hoes and whores." When the kid tries to think of a more local association for the "whores," they really have very little to go by. Looks are a huge factor in this. However, the person doesn't quite understand the meaning of not judging a book by its cover. ("If she looks like a whore, then she must be a whore.")

This negative connotation is further strengthened by relationship histories. People that have heard of these negative descriptions of girls will associate the large tally of "known" relationships with that of that of what they know a "whore" does. This is not true, as you just don't know when someone is unsure about relationships and simply going through the motions; as everyone learns in different ways.

What we fail to see growing up is what goes on inside the person's mind. We can see things such as a person's clothing, a person's looks, and we can understand a person's attitude and the way they talk. We don't know what goes in inside the person's mind.

In middle school, I was the person that already knew it all. When all the rest of the kids were learning and experimenting with such things, I was sitting at the corner of the building (at the back of Challand) and observing all of this, thinking to myself: "Look at him, there's another person that just doesn't get it." I would see the "crowning" of "whores" and just shook my head.

I was trying to better understand different types of people when I was shy all of the time. A lot of my shyness had to do with failing to get across to someone in a way they could understand. Sure, there were people telling me that so-and-so was a "whore" and to stay away from her any time she would approach me. I'd just sort of stared at him and tried to find a way to tell him that he was a jerk for thinking about that.

I feel that in order to know a person well, you have to tap into their mind and understand them. Not go by what you see. I "saw" the filtering of all of my middle school classmates into certain cliques (and as the rump of the pile that never got filtered, I was classified as one of the outsiders).

It was in middle school when I could see the intermixing of qualities between two different cliques. There existed classmates that looked like an emo, but could tell you everything you wanted to know about chemistry. There were people considered to be jocks that could also tell you everything you wanted to know about chemistry. I knew outsiders who were great class speakers (I was not one of them). When I saw multiple qualities of what defines a certain clique in someone, I realized that the very existence of cliques themselves was a bunch of rubbish.

Another, more understandable, example of finding a positive from a negative are those black classmates that always got in trouble, and were always goofing off. I would see the times when they would be offended by racism, and they would all of a sudden burst into the words of Dr. King and such. All of a sudden they were not the troublemaking kid, but a person that actually had some sort of logical sense. While these matters would only come up at times when provoked, it proved that these positive qualities did indeed exist in the person.

Most people come to that realization during high school, when they see it more and more. Some still fail to see that. I saw it all in middle school, when others were bring introduced to the concept.

All of that being said, I know of such girls to be real smart, real athletic, real nice, and had other multiple positive characteristics. I would see that in them, and hold on tight to that. I knew all of these "associations" made no sense at all.

We really do not know about the sexual history of those that have been labeled as "whores." In middle school, we take only the trace of evidence and blow it out of proportion. It is all not true. I knew these feelings deeply hurt such girls, and whenever I could I would try to find a way to help cure it all.

And it's not just girls. There are boys whom have had multiple relationships and were also subject to the name calling; some in terms of being "plagued" by such. It just isn't true.

I know of one girl that I consider a good friend. Her and her group of friends, at one time growing up, decided that it was fun to nickname themselves after me. This girl was called "Hody Slutter". I do not know who came up with that, but once I heard it for the first time I was real unhappy. Here was my own name being used to describe someone I know in such a negative way. I'm sure this nickname wound up hurting her somehow, and the first person that comes to mind whenever the nickname comes up is Cody Cutter. I had nothing to do with the nickname, and I've always felt bad about it. Truthfully, she is the very opposite of what her nickname suggests.

It's been more than 10 years since graduating from the 8th grade. These "whores" have turned out to be just fine, thank you.

It shouldn't take time to bust the cliques (Cliquebusting it what I call it). We can eliminate these early on by real keen observations of what goes on around us, and knowing that we simply cannot judge a book by its cover. At least that's the way I did it.

So it's NOT funny that the girls considered whores that are now married with children are now posting bible verses.

I find it to be a positive change in their lives to overcome the negative connotations that grew up with them in school. These girls, now women, are the strongest people I know.

And I'm proud to call some of them my friends.

The Fun Prank That Went Totally Wrong

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.92.40
Current Song - Peg (Steely Dan)

Cleaning out my memory of things left stuck to the bottom, this particular day was labeled "do not share to anyone, ever."

This was a big mistake that I made when I was a freshman in high school. I am normally an "open book" kind of person when it comes to this Blog, but here is something that I have been very reluctant to share because it caused so much controversy. In addition, many questions were posed about my actions that day, as well as many rumors that are absolutely false.

I'm sharing it now because I hope to clear whatever negative rumors were associated with my actions that day. Much time has passed, and I feel that everyone will now understand it well as opposed to sharing it right away and be subject to more scrutiny.

It started as a fun joke, and turned into a security matter involving two high schools.

***

I had friends at both Sterling and Rock Falls. When I wasn't working with Sterling athletics, I was sometimes attending basketball games at RF with my friends there. Thus, I sat in the RF student section at times, stood up with the Rowdies and "booed those refs" whenever Seth Wade shouted for us to do that.

I had attended games quite a bit come softball time that some of the parents were joking around with me by saying, "Cody, we got an extra room at our place if you want to stay."

Then the transfer rumors began.

"You should just transfer here," some of my friends began to say.

There was really no way I was going to transfer, because it would involve quite a bit of paperwork and higher registration fees. I knew that, too. Plus, my parents were dead set on not letting this happen.

One thing led to another, and a practical joke was planned.

I had pulled pranks on my classmates in the past, most of the time being that "unthinkable one that did it" when something bad happened. A lot of those things went unsolved because they just didn't think I - someone sweet, innocent and perfefct - would do this. It should be noted that none of my pranks involved intentions of crime and violence, and everything I did was in good taste.

Just because I liked my RF friends a lot didn't mean that they weren't subject to my pranks and gags. At the height of those transfer rumors, I decided to play on it.

One morning I rode my bike to RFHS, set my bike down on the front lawn and went inside through the SW door. I had my bookbag on my back and all. I just started walking until I found someone I knew. I made my way up to the science wing where a bunch of my friends were.

"Hi! Yeah, I'm here! It's a honor ..."
"I'm living with my grandma ..."
"It's good to be back in Rock Falls ..."
"I won't be able to see you at lunch, I'm meeting Mr. Gemeny. A little "welcome" talk I guess."
"Yes it's May, I know ..."

The shock was real.

But I had to play this real well and improvise some of the questions asked to me. That involved knowing about eight hours at RFHS compared to seven at SHS, and knowledge of who the teachers were and what they taught: "I have Mr. Kusnerick first hour ... and then finally I have Mr. McCord eighth hour." And then asking how "cool" the teachers were. This also including knowing the difference between Algebra 1A and 1B, which was not the case at SHS.

In order for the gag to work out successfully, I couldn't be spotted by the adults that knew who I was (there were only three). I had to carefully make my way down the second-floor hallway, reaching the English wing where some of my sophomore friends were at.

"Well, gotta run, I got Coach K first hour ..."

So I made my way down the stairs to the social studies wing and bumped into a few more of my friends near his classroom. Only this time, I had to find another "class" for first hour. I believe I said I have Coach Denny for first hour, and couldn't find the room.

With class time ticking nearer, I approached my exit. If I didn't make the exit at the right time, the prank would have gone terribly wrong. My backup plan was hiding in the restroom for an entire class period. I would have been "skipping school". But I went back to the front lawn, hopped on my bike, and sped across 12th Avenue into Sterling.

I guess the hot rumor that day was that Cody Cutter had finally transferred. However, I think they got a little concerned when they didn't see me in the halls the rest of the school day.

The joke had to come to an end at some point. The next day, the sophomore girls had a home game at Optimist Park. When I parked my bike at the speed limit sign (as was the norm), I was greeted by a bunch of surprised girls that loudly asked if I had really transfered to RFHS. That's when I told them that, no, it was all a big joke. But quickly I remarked that I wouldn't rule it out (wink, wink).

Over the next few days, I guess a huge security issue was addressed. Remember, this is a high school - only a couple of years after Columbine and just months after 9/11. None of which entered my mind during all of this.

SHS's school police officer pulled me out of my 6th hour smart-people math class. This came as a shock to the rest of the kids in my class, as well as the teacher, because I had always been known as a good kid.

We walked down to his office and sat down.

"I've been talking with Officer Doane ..."

And that's when it all came crashing down.

I had to explain the whole gag, and the fact that why I did it was because I love my friends very much. It was all in good fun. I don't remember much about this conversation, other than talking on the phone with Officer Doane at the same time. He told me something about, "well, if you want to visit, you sign in at the office and they'll give you a visitor's pass," or something like that.

Nevertheless, both school administrations knew of the matter, as well as my parents.

I was grounded for two weeks and couldn't go to any softball games.

All these years I had thought someone had tipped me off, but I knew that the whole "joke" was one that couldn't be well-maintained. I didn't factor in the rumors that went on the rest of that school day. I always thought that someone had made a big deal about it, and some teacher had overheard.

All I got for this was a warning.

However, I rarely ever played practical jokes and gags after that.

The only times I really go back into my "gag bag" is April Fools' Day. This is because, as me and my friends get older, we think of April 1st as just "April 1" and not AFD.

My best gags since then were my 2011 and 2012 AFD jokes.

2011 - During a time when I was struggling to make ends meet, I played a joke that I was shutting down Northern Illinois Sports Beat. This was believeable because everyone knew I was struggling to maintain the website for some time. I changed the homepage and everything. One of my writing contributors saw this and nearly had a heart attack.

2012 - On Facebook, I wrote that I had moved to Newark. Many friends believed that because I was on the verge of moving out of my parent's house at any time, and I had spent a lot of time in the Newark/Sandwich/Plano area covering some sports.

My 2013 AFD joke backfired. I told all of my friends that I was leaving Shell and was giving away cash, food and a new car. The "cash" was 11 cents, the "food" was a stick of gum, and the "new car" was a little Hot Wheels car. After I found out that people have actually been sued for these things, I pulled it. However, one of my friends bought into it. She saw me at work the following night and thought that my "last night" was the night before, and really thought I was giving away "my car." I told her about how I had planned to go to Walgreens to buy the car, to which she replied "Walgreens doesn't sell cars." That's when she got it.

I believe in order to make a practical joke feel genuine, you have to poke fun at yourself a little bit. However, there is a line that can't be crossed before too many people take you too seriously. The past three years involved me struggling with my website, looking to move away, and leaving my job.

It's all in good fun. I think I enjoy it a little more now that I know where that line is that can't be crossed.

I surely crossed it when I was a freshman.

I will close by issuing my apology to Mr. Wolfe, Mr. Gemeny, Mr. Akers, Officer Doane at RFHS, as well as Mr. Binder, Mr. Beswick, Officer Mohr at SHS, and others for my actions that day. I know it's long overdue.

My Unit 5 Permanent Record: The Dark Side

Cutter's Log - Supplemental

All throughout my middle school and high school years, I've been called "very smart."

Truth is, I was simply an average-to-slightly-below-average student academically. My class rank is too embarassing to reveal, considering what people know of me outside my grades.

I am only referring to middle school and high school here. Grade school and college are different stories.

In classes that I loved to take, I hovered around a B+ to A. In classes that I hated to take, I hovered between D- to C. There was no gray area, and I can't remember ever getting a B- or C+ on anything. Truth is, I even failed two classes (one as a penalty due to that controversial Factory paper - mentioned in the previous Entry - and the other being an accelerated Algebra 2 class that proved to be too "accelerated" for me).

To say that I "survived" high school isn't true in the sense that I didn't struggle with lower-level classes (I didn't take any lower-level classes). I was in that rung between average placement and Advanced Placement. I could have reverted to average placement, but I chose to plow along with some challenges here and there.

I was a well-disciplined and well-involved kid early on, but struggled at times academically. This, I'm sure, caused about 80% of my teachers to toss and turn at night at this strange and confusing anomaly that was Cody Cutter.

There was also a "red alert" portion of me in my record that consisted of things such as Crisis instructions and Security proceedings. My friends do not know this until know, but I was on the verge of exploding at any time. Teachers and admins knew it. I was never the kid that had to sit down with the school resource police officer, but this did happen once and it caused a great deal of internal security concern.

Ask about 80% of my teachers, with my back turned, and they'll tell you that I was a royal pain in the ass to teach.

Normally, those students with such distinction are those who goof off in class and have no respect for the authority of the teacher. Those kids are considered irritating. I wasn't that irritating, smart-alec kid. I was just a sickening anomaly. I think my specific case caused scientific studies in the teacher's lounge.

The biggest reason is this:  They never knew I had Asperger's.


He Doesn't Participate In Class

I participated when I wanted to. There were many times, about 95% of the time, where I did not feel like participating. I'd rather have someone else have that moment in the sun, and learn through trial and error. If it involved useless trivia, my hand was the first one up.

Whenever my hand was up in non-trivia or non-game situations, I was almost always picked. This, of course, came after a weird look on the teacher's face ... that "is this a mirage?" look. I think one time I raised my hand, was called upon, got the answer right, and remarked to one of my teachers, "see, I do participate in class!" I think I was in a bad mood that day.

If I wasn't interested in whatever was being taught, I had one eye on the teacher and another on something else. Sixth and seventh period was almost always revolving around lining up what I was going to do after school. I didn't cut off the teachers entirely, because I knew I needed that for whatever homework assignment was given.

The biggest reason why I stopped participating in class was because I always felt insulted by teachers who would randomly pick me. Sometimes I was too insulted that I simply said nothing and gave a blank stare. I felt insulted in front of my peers, thank you very much. Yay, you caught me off-guard, do you want a prize?

Don't get me wrong, there were classes that I loved participating in: World History, US History and Government. It got to the point where Walton, Wylde and Preston were saying "Anyone other than Cody?"

And, my God, NEVER, EVER ask me to read a passage from a book to the rest of the class. You are asking for punishment. I rarely ever raised my hand to read something, and when I did read something, I was always the first kid picked "out of random." I felt that insulted me. What did I do to deserve this? It's not like I was ever goofing off in class to anger the teacher or anything.

Truth is, I can read well silently. I can talk faster in my mind. But when I have to verbally read written words, they come out at a fourth-grade level. Don't get me wrong, I can read. Most of the time, it goes in one eye and out the other. You told me to read the book, you didn't tell me to understand the book. I had to re-read these books, and that kept eating into my time.


He Doesn't Work Well in Groups

I was shy. Still am. Therefore, I have trouble communicating and such to the point where I was acting like a freeloader to get a top grade.

Random group settings were bad because we just didn't click. When we chose our own groups, it felt a little better. Especially for the history classes. One exception is groupwork that involved something that I had a grasp on. In this case, I would almost always partner myself with one of the legendary poor-performing students in our class to help them understand.

I always had trouble finding partners. I felt like they didn't want me to be a part of their "special group" because I was a bit of an outsider. I had this feeling that I would let them down. I was always thinking negative.

This reached a boiling point with a certain science teacher in high school who was big on group work. Almost everything involved groupwork. I had the same teacher for my senior year, and it just got to the point where I just wanted to do this alone. I didn't want to question her motives for it out of respect, so I was a sitting duck.


The DARKEST Side

Because of my poor participation, poor grades, and poor interaction with others, and the unusualness of these, I believe that teachers considered me as someone potentially dangerous or suicidal. Remember, 9/11 happened when I was a freshman.

I had a counselor visit in 6th grade involving something love-related, and how disappointed I was.

"This is just between you and me."

Bullshit.

The darkest parts of my permanent record involve the Top 50 lists, the whole Sterling/Rock Falls thing, and thoughts about love and life. The social side of me was a sad and unusual one.

But perhaps the even darkest files of me are not even at SHS. Perhaps they reside at RFHS, where things such as applying for a student activity card, the bikeride to Geneseo, and that day I'd like to forget, are in it. I think simply because I was a Sterling kid interacting so much with RF kids, that they considered it all strange. And it was all far from that, and I hope one day that they'll see the truth behind it all.


Hated English, But it Got the Last Laugh

I hated, hated, hated English and literature going as far back as grade school.

Today, I have a college degree in mass communication: a form of journalism, which is a form of english studies.

How weird is that?

I still hate literature. Language arts wasn't all that bad. However, my english grades reflected my very poor performance when it came to literature.

You could count on a well-written paper from me, however.

My first long writing assigments started as including fluff to maintain a minimum. Then it turned into trying to surpass the minimum to a certain extent to feel as if I actually cared about the darn thing. Including these fluff sentences became a habit, to the point where I was writing elsewhere - short adventure stories, philosophical statements beyond my age, love letters, etc.

I'll credit writing articles for PSO as the thing that saved me in high school english. As much as I loved to be durable in writing about these high school sports events, that carried over to writing for class. My writing career eventually made it to the local newspaper sports section during my junior year, so all of the teachers knew that I could write something, and write it well.

As mentioned earlier, I failed the first half of my sophomore communications class because of that controversial Factory paper. I was to take the English portion of the class the next year (I was the only junior in that class, taking English 2 and 3 simultaneously). Likewise, I was struggling in the second half.

The final project, which accounted for a huge part of the class grade, was either one of two things: a speech or a routine performance. I was the only one in the entire two-block class that opted for the speech. Because it involved writing something, and about anything I wanted to write about. I just simply had to recite it on a podium.

I came into that final day needing to do well in this speech to make or break my academic career. It was the end of my sophomore year, and many things were on my mind. Girls. Friends. Sports. The dream job.

I think I did well in the speech about the Sterling-Rock Falls Rivalry and got a standing ovation.

And added in the ninja yell in an acting routine to boot.

e-Hoarding

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.72.40
Current Song - Shattered Dreams (Johnny Hates Jazz)

I have a confession to make.

I, Cody Cutter, am an e-hoarder.

Have A&E have an online show about me. On second thought, probably not.

While working on website material, I needed to find an old photo file that I made some years back. I had created this for the current website setup, but scrapped the design in favor of something else. Now I'm thinking of bringing it back.

Where was it? It took about 15 minutes before I finally found it - buried deep within some other folder branching from the main "C:" hard drive.

I have used up 66 GB of my 186 GB hard drive, roughly one-third. It feels like much more.

While on this adventure to find said file, I browsed through many photos and Word documents that has been stored on here over the years, or transferred from key fobs.

I even have Word files dating back to 2002 on this computer.

I do not save everything, such as drafts and minor notes. However, I have written many completed works over the years, be it game articles, columns, personal stories, research papers, driving directions to Green Bay, you name it.

Perhaps this is because I do tend to hoard in real life - but not chronically, as depicted on television shows.

***

I had a tough time keeping my bedroom clean in the 15 years I lived at my old house on 17th Avenue. Certain things just had to be thrown away, and my dad told me one day that if I know I'm not going to use this thing in the next month, pitch it.

Then came a period when money became real tight, and I decided to sort everything into boxes for rummage sale and resale use. These boxes are now sitting in my attic at home, waiting to go somewhere other than in my possession.

A lot of the problem regarding hoarding is the Autism in me which creates the vast memory storage. For anything abstract, I have something concrete somewhere. Somewhere in a box in my attic is an owner's manual for a 1987 Schwinn bicycle which belonged to my Uncle Scott. The bike is gone, but this booklet serves as a reminder of Scott, who died more than 15 years ago.

When I moved to my own place, I had a lot of throwing away to do. Apparently I didn't do enough. In my top left desk drawer are study materials from Psychology class at Sauk. I slept through the first semester, failed, and kept these for future use when I was going to take the class again. I did, via online, and wound up passing. But these notes are still in my "college" drawer. I don't know why I even have a "college" drawer anymore - I graduated from Sauk in 2010. But when the day comes to going back for a bachelor's, that drawer will serve its purpose.

Many things that have been kept over the years involve love and friendship - two very important parts of my life. Things such as graduation invitations from the softball girls, pictures of class scenes from 8th grade, 2nd grade get-well cards, etc. They serve as a reminder of the struggle that I had to undertake to become better at love and friendship.

***

One thing that I do have an extreme problem with is the collection of my journalism notes.

I have notes dating from my days at PSO. Just pieces of notebook paper with stats written on them, rosters from past teams, programs, special booklets, and things like that.

Never know when I'll need them for future reference, right? Do I need shot-by-shot notes from Boylan/St. Joseph boys basketball from 2006? Do I need a 2003 Galesburg girls basketball roster? Better yet, do I save these programs for the likelyhood that someone in there becomes famous one day?

***

Enter my computer.

Game articles and such are written on Word and stored on the computer after the stories are released. Same with pictures. They are sorted neatly into the "NISB" Folder and its sub-folders. Then every summer, these files get transferred to CD.

But what about my personal stuff? My "My Documents" folder isn't all that deep.

I still have a file titled "A Little About My Autism," which was written for a friend of mine for a college project. "History of Sports Journalism" consist of notes from an old book which mentions the earliest days of sports journalism. "JUCO" is a scrapped piece involving the lack of media coverage for junior colleges (waiting to be finished one day). "Destroyed Blog Entries" are those entries on here that were taken down by request of those mentioned. "Musical" is a planned, but never completed epic post for Turk's Message Board. "Lotto Training" is a guide to working the lottery machines at work.  My 1998 Pontiac Grand Am owner's manual is also here. Something called "climax9". A love letter. Countless drafts of important Blog entries. And countless resumes/cover letters: journalism-related and non-journalism-related.

The pictures take up the most space, and this is where it's real embarassing.

I have a folder for the Illinois HS Glory Days website, with photos that are already posted on the website, and photos of buildings that could one day be on there. Vacation photos. Sterling/RF history photos.

There exists a folder in My Documents called "Yahoo Briefcase."

For whatever reason, I had difficulty carrying around floppy discs in school. Yahoo offered this briefcase feature for each user account for general storage space - no downloading onto discs or anything like that. One day, many years later, I got an email stating that Yahoo was closing Briefcase. So I went back and looked at what I left behind and downloaded these files onto my computer.

All of the file names are screwed up, but they include rough drafts of old PSO articles. One of which is a gamer from Rock Falls boys basketball's 2003 Senior Night against LaSalle-Peru. Also included was an article on the 2002 RF Volleyball banquet, which brought back memories of one of my most favorite teams of all-time. Leftover copies of notes to SHS "Script" staffers. An IHSA logo that I used as the basis for a postage stamp painting in art class. Homework assignments for English class. An old PATHWAYS (!!!) assignment. Drafts of my SVN columns "Move Ova, Kova" and "Nicknames Part II". A pair of unreleased columns about the softball girls, a made-up parody newspaper, a recruiting flyer sent to me by coach Zeman for a public-private paper I was writing.

But perhaps two real good pieces that still survive are titled "Sterling-Rock Falls Rivalry" and "The Manufacturing Side Of Sterling, Illinois." These were pieces from sophomore Communications class, and represent the high point and low point of that class. The rivalry paper was actually my final speech project.

The factory paper is controversial because my teacher gave me a zero with an accusation of plagarism. I did not plagarize that paper. I included dates and facts that I had already known BEFORE I wrote the paper, and my teacher has assumed that I learned of those dates through research conducted during the span of the assignment. Wahl Clipper was founded in 1919; I had known that for years before writing this paper. So basically, I got a zero for not adhering to the educational purpose of the assignment (writing a research paper of something that I already had tons of knowledge about beforehand).

I still have the hard copy, with all of the screaming and yelling of teacher's notes. This had to been a high-point of her career.

***

Lastly, I have email messages in my Inbox dating back to Spring 2001. E-mail messages from classmates saying "good luck in high school" back when email was a new concept to us.

I have had the same email address since then.

Since these are stored online, with endless space, I feel that I have no reason to delete them. It's just a waste of my time.

Vacation Preview (Apr. 28-May 6)

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.62.40
Current Song - My Sweet Lord (George Harrison)

I've procrastinated quite a bit when it comes to the 2013 Self Vacation, and just now - after a late night at work, doing research and putting things together from 1:30 am to 4 am - I have an itineary in place.

This vacation is a smaller scale from the 2009, 2010 and 2011 vacations (Tucson, Cooperstown/Canton, and Lake Itasca respectively). I took no vacation in 2012. I'm only going about three hours or so from home.

It is a continuation of my 2011 vacation of the Mississippi River north of Clinton. It abruptly cut off after crossing the Wisconsin River on the descent when it got too dark for picture-taking. So I drove home in the dark from that point, missing all of Grant County. This year, I am coming back to see what I simply drove past.

The central attraction this time will be camping at the Jellystone Park in Bagley, Wisc. It is the park's opening weekend. It'll be my first time camping since I was in second grade, when we went to Rockwood in Morrison. Only this time, I don't plan on getting lost in the woods with a team of rangers out to try to rescue me --- another story for another time.

I have taken my 27th birthday (Sunday, April 28) off of work and have 8 days of vacation time until reporting for work at 5 p.m. on Monday, May 6 (I accidentally got the 27th off, but looks like it will be voided by a short night-shift). I recently surpassed the one-year mark on having been reinstated back to Shell, thus giving me one week of paid vacation.

***

The vacation officially begins at 1 a.m. on Sunday, April 28 - when I lock the doors of the Shell station. I plan on spending my 27th Birthday with my family.

Either Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, I plan on spending time with my grandparents - who are returning home from the winter in Tucson. We'll visit, go over the house, and talk for quite a while I'm sure.

Also during those three days, I plan on working on the NISB website for the first time since mid-March: website cleaning, message board cleaning, beginning work on a new look, creating an updated logo and drafting the State of the Site Address (50 days from this writing).

Friday, Saturday and Sunday is when the real fun begins.

***

Friday will begin in Clinton once more (the start of my 2011 trip) with a fill-up at the Kwik Star. These fuels really helped me during the previous vacation and I was impressed on how long-lasting they were. I plan on arriving in Clinton by 6 a.m. or so and make my way back across to Illinois.

I'll be going back across via the Savanna-Sebula Bridge - which is to be replaced in the next few years. It's one of those older truss bridges with a steel bed consisting of square holes. It'll likely be my last time crossing this unique bridge.

By 7:45 or so, I'll be in St. Donatus, Iowa. I drove through it on the last trip, and wound up getting lost north of town (and nearly got into a car accident at a sharp curve). I wound up simply driving through this town that is a resemblence of Luxembourg. There is a restaurant there which is open that early, and I hope to take a bite into something foreign.

Afterward, I'll be back in Illinois, albeit briefly; crossing from Dubuque to East Dubuque and then up Route 35 into Wisconsin.

By 10:30, I'll be in Potosi and visiting the National Brewery Museum on the grounds of the old Potosi Brewery. I also plan on having lunch there.

Then comes the ascent to Bagley, through Cassville. Tentsite 37. Set up the tent I plan on getting for a birthday present and sleep in the great outdoors for the first time in a long time.

***

Saturday is really up in the air, as I'm sure I'll find something to do within the Jellystone site, or somewhere in either Bagley or Wyalusing. I just plan to wing it. And spend a second night in a tent.

***

Sunday after an early check-out, I plan on going back to the terminus of the past vacation - Wyalusing State Park. Wisconsin, like Minnesota, charges for access to its state parks. But I plan on seeing it anyway, however by actually visiting it. I have SEEN the park, but viewing it from a bluff at Pikes Peak in Iowa. This is also where the Wisconsin River dumps into the Mississippi.

Then comes the descent. There is a ferry in Cassville that goes across the Mississippi. I have never been on a ferry before, so this will be a first for me.

I'll be driving toward Balltown and once more gazing at one of the best views I've ever seen. Then, because I missed eating there on the last trip, I'll finally get that chance to eat at the Sunday buffet at Breitbach's.

Lastly, on a full stomach, I'll weave my way once more across the Julian Dubuque bridge and up and down the hills of Jo Daviess and Carroll County back home with my eyes partially shut.

No, wait, probably not a good idea to drive through that area at night like that :(

***

Somehow, sometime, I'll be back home by Monday. Then it's back to work at 5 p.m.

Here's hoping all goes to a 'T'.

StaStuttering & SpuaSpuaSpeeches

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.12.40
Current Song - Roundup (Sam Spence)

I read briefly about King George VI of England. He was King of England during World War II, and apparently, like me, had huge difficulty in public speaking.

Looking up some of his recorded speeches on YouTube reminded me of me.

The bulk of my conversation problems involve stuttering and blockages. However, when I find myself talking to myself, there is very little stuttering taking place.

When I mean "conversation", there are certain degrees in which stuttering is most prevalent.

When I do my required greeting and salutation as a gas station worker, there is no stuttering whatsoever. When a customer asks me a question, it depends. If I know the answer, I don't stutter. If I don't know the answer, there is some stuttering. If I don't know the answer and the customer is breathing down my throat (say, when a credit card does not work at the pump), the stuttering occurs more often as I try to find a way to escape the situation.

In my six years as a gas station worker, the repetition of things has caused the stuttering to go away. I become more confident in my replies in situations when customers (the ones who think they're God) get angry.

Normal customers I won't stutter in front of. However, for some reason, I tend to stutter when those I have known from school (on both sides of the river) come to the counter. I think it is because seeing the person immediately sends my mindset back to school days, when stuttering in front of classmates was the norm.

I don't recall having this problem in grade school, but it became more noticable in middle school and high school. This probably coincides with the shyness I experienced during this time. When I became more withdrawn, it was almost like I had forgotten how to talk. In trying to reclaim that conversation niche, the stuttering was a struggle to put "cool" sentences together.


Class speeches were hell.

I took a speech class during my sophomore year. Our teacher, Mrs. Ward, videotaped all of our speeches and gave the tapes to us at the end of the year for future reference. I still have that VHS. My first speech was hell, it was about myself and moving from Rock Falls to Sterling. The class and Mrs. Ward all thought I was having a heartattack (I was a big boy, and the feeling was probably legit). My subsequent speeches all sucked, because they were on topics that I had no interest in.

However, the final speech for the class was left to something I was indeed interested in. This one was on the Sterling-Rock Falls high school sports rivalry and history. The locale of this speech helped a little bit; the classroom was used for all other speeches, but this one was held in the choir room with a larger audience. There were more kids in front of me, but there was also this plain wall behind them. My eyes, instead of being focused on farsightedness, were switched to nearsightedness to make the crowd become a blur.

While I had a problem with clapping my notecards on the podium, the speech went almost flawless. I think there was just one period of blockage. I can remember the standing ovation that the class gave me. I think they understood the struggle I was having.

Later on in the class period, I broke out of my shell once more. I was asked to play a minor extra role as a ninja. I let out a yell that, apparently, roared the crowd. I asked myself W.W.P.B.D. (What would Pat Bittorf do?) in this situation. I had that in me, but I rarely ever showed that side of me.


Talent Show Gaffe

My first stage appearances were grade school music concerts. But I was singing with a bunch of other people. (Who among my classmates at Lincoln remembers the line "The evening we parted, the morning we met" and how we were tempted to say "farted" instead of "parted?"). However, my first solo performances were the 7th grade talent show.

I had racked up a list of impersonations, and was persuaded to try out for Challand's talent show. I delivered a routine during tryouts and made it. Rehersal was to follow at the Auditorium.

At the Auditorum stage, the crowd looks darkened like you can't see them. This made stage fright seem a bit more tolerable than what I thought it was.

I delivered a routine that had some slight alterations because I was having a much better time than I had thought. Doing my "7-11 Indian Routine" I mentioned the word "tampons." The crowd, which included my classmates Parris, Sarah and Jenna, all gasped and Mr. Neff promptly kicked me out of the show right then and there. He even yelled at me to "GO HOME!"

I didn't really go home. I went back to Challand to pick up my things and I was slamming lockers open and shut in anger. My first temper tantrum in school since pre-school.

I never apologized to Mr. Neff for this. If he didn't yell at me on the stage in front of everyone, I would have apologized. But he embarassed me in front of everyone, and I really felt bad for Parris, Sarah and Jenna for having witnessed this.

I made phone calls to all of my friends afterward. I had never made that many phone calls to friends before, or ever have since. Needless to say, stuttering was absolutely rampant.


"Will You Go Out With Me?"

On a subject that I write about on here often, there has only been one occasion where I have ever popped this question - Carly in 7th grade.

Amber, Sarah, Jennie, etc. all knew about my stuttering and insecurity. That very likely repelled each other. However, there was something about Carly that differed from the rest: She seemed to be understanding of my inabilities. Probably because we sat next to each other in 6th grade. This was something I hadn't experienced, and appreciated at the same time.

So much to where, at the Valentine's Day dance, I had brought over a bunch of roses to her. This was a big thing. I had to hide the roses from everyone else because I thought the hoopla was going to be too much for me. I don't remember the song that played, but someone found out and told me it was time to get the roses. This all played out as if it was some sort of religious service.

I only said a few words, which may have been "Here, Carly, these are for you." and promptly exited the gym floor to catch myself back up.

After hearing that she appreciated the roses, and after hearing something about a shouting match between her and Sarah over who I loved more, the next step was the big question. Everyone in school was hounding me over when I was going to ask her. On my own time, and by myself. This was because with just me and the telephone, I wasn't going to be pressured by someone else (such as Jared in 1st grade with Johnna) to tie up my words and make me stutter.

I had prepared for this in a way that would turn off just about every girl ever. I made the call. It was brief. And I don't remember a pause other than before asking the question. "Carly?" I paused for about five seconds. "Will you go out with me?"

The rest is history. A disappointing one.

I never did find the courage to ask anyone else out in high school. In front of most girls, I'll stutter a little bit. In front of girls I liked, however, stuttering was rampant.

I stuttered A LOT in front in my softball friends from Rock Falls. Probably because they were going so fast for me that I struggled to keep up. Some girls it was easier, others were difficult. The girl I had the greatest difficulty controlling my stutter in front of was Emily, and everyone knows why.

When I worked for the newspaper, Emily had a big hit in the supersectional game against Byron and was something worthy of an interview. We had known each other for about 10 years, so you'd think this was easy. My stuttering was bad because this was a very unusual situation: we know each other but I was trying to keep this as professional an interview as possible. I dropped my clipboard during the interview and she was laughing hysterically. Before that, I was always interviewing Korby, Marilyn, Jessica and Whitni as well as Sheila.


As a Journalist

Communication is one of the biggest facets of the profession of journalism. That is my biggest setback.

I have always been more of an observational and ramificational journalist. Getting quotes have been a subsequent priority in my writings. Thus, I struggle with them.

When I first started, I was asking crappy questions. My first interviews were with Coach Scheidegger (R.I.P.) and Coach Kusnerick from Rock Falls. Then when working with the softball girls, quotes were a requirement for the newspaper. I struggled with them a lot.

As mentioned earlier, Korby was a frequent interview for me. When I started, I had typed up a list of questions and I would read them off. It got to the point where Korby was sick and tired of these same questions, and that's when the stutter started to come back. Eventually over time - notably during the winning streak - things got much easier and more relaxed with the exception of that one time with Emily.

On assignments that I hated doing (college commitments, athlete features and news stories), stuttering during interviews were more prevalent. My last story for the newspaper was the 50th Anniversary of Sterling Youth Baseball. I was ill-prepared and the story sucked.

Moving on to Northern Illinois Sports Beat, I met more and more athletes and coaches.

Any athlete and coach that I have ever interviewed can remember me stuttering at least 8 or 9 times during an interview. Easier stories to write meant less stuttering. Stories in which the theme of the game was difficult to pinpoint saw more stuttering.

I had a terrible time while covering a Dixon girls basketball game one year early on, and Coach Morrison nearly walked away from my interview because I was so bad at it. That led to a period of doubt where the simplist interviews were difficult.

I also tend to have difficulty with young coaches that are uber-excited (Brown, Winckler, Dykeman to name a few). When I stutter, that excitement often turns into confusion. Sometimes a side-thought occurs where I think I'm embarassing myself because I have caused the coach to change his mood just for this conversation, which I felt bad about.

At times when I'm interviewing someone of high standing (Goers, Sigel, Lano, Papoccia, and the like), I do tend to stutter when my questions backfire, or I don't get the answer that I'm looking for. The reason for this is because of potential embarassment in front of someone like them. They've been there and done that when it comes to media interviews, and the feeling of "Oh God, here's that Cutter kid" comes to mind.

When it comes to athletes, almost all of them are not a problem. Girls are more difficult because of their inability to show expression during interviews. I can't recall a single game story interview that has been more difficult than another.

Athlete QA's are a different story - and these are the ones where questions are scripted. When I feel the athlete is bored from doing this, the stuttering starts to show because I'm struggling to keep the interview flowing. Probably my most difficult QA was with a girl from Hinckley-Big Rock. I paused twice for 10 seconds during the interview. I still don't know why.

The biggest stuttering issue in my journalism career are State Final events.

Here I am in front of high school sports journalists across all of Illinois - colleagues and sportswriting idols. When press conference time comes around, I'm always struggling to get a question out. I hardly ever ask a question ... the "Clarence Thomas of the press room" I think is the nickname they give me behind my back. When I do ask a question during a press conference, I stutter a lot. The reason for that is because I'm displaying my talents in front of not only the press table, but also in front of my more professional journalism colleagues.

I swear, the press room supervisor always wonders why I don't ask questions all of the time.

This year saw a slight improvement of questions posed in the press room.

During this year's IHSA Volleyball Finals, Edwards County brought no press. Hardly any questions were asked when I covered their match against Dakota. So after they played Riverdale, the Matt, the IHSA media guy, suggested to those sitting down that we all each ask a question. That included me.

Afterward I joked with him by saying, "I must be sick or something. I asked two questions."

The other instance was during this year's 3-Point Showdown in boys basketball. This I thought was a unique side story of something that gets little press. So the press room is bare, and I had an easier time because I took notes of the questions asked previously.

That was my last high school sports story before my current hiatus.

I'll be back for the State baseball and softball finals. I hope all can be improved a little more over there.

Adding More Prose To My Poem Book

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.71.40
Current Song - Careless Whisper (Wham!)

I just finished making another addition to my poem book.

More will come.

I had one of those moments where somehow, through something, some of the girls I had loved in the past came back into the forefront of my mind. One thing led to another, and all of a sudden I'm thinking back to a moment which happened during my junior year in high school.

Because I live alone with very little interaction as of late (due to the car breaking down and being stuck within the walls of my house), there is very little that can get my off of what's on my mind.

I've written about this constantly. I feel like I'm beating a dead horse sharing this with all of you. I sometimes don't know when to shut up - which is extremely odd considering that I actually do not talk very much at all.

But I can't deny the existance of the things that do wind up coming into my mind. Keeping it to myself has become a problem as of late, especially when I share what's on my mind on the Facebook news feed.

Sometimes I feel that sharing what is on my mind annoys people. Especially those who I may be actually thinking about. I have realized this on my own without anyone telling me to shut up.

However, there was one more deep feeling I felt like sharing with everyone.

While thinking deeper about that moment during my junior year, some of the words fit together like a puzzle in the form of poetry.

At first, I could only think of the title: "If Only I Would Have Known"

To help complete my poem, sitting in my empty house wasn't going to help convey the message of the poem. In the past, I have gone on car rides to see different surroundings and therefore introduce myself to more influences to put the prose together. However, I couldn't do that with my car. A bike ride would have to do.

I know I'm on a diet, and just dipped past the 300-pound mark a couple of days ago, but I felt like treating myself to a rare sit-down restaurant dinner. I rode my bike to Candlelight in RF (name anyone else who rides their bike to Candlelight for dinner) to have a steak.

The setting reminded me of something you could go to for a date. I sat in a booth at one of the corners and ordered my typical NY Strip. Usually I like my steaks medium-well, but opted for well-done this time.

I wanted to buy a few extra minutes to get this setting soaked in. The chinks of glass and silverware, together with the sort-of-dark visual setting mixed with darkish-red wooden booths. While sitting down and looking at the menu, the setting merged with some of the feelings I had felt about that particular event I was thinking about. If only I would have made a date here, I thought.

While waiting for my steak, I made great use of my notepad on my phone. Thinking of words and lines, and such.

After I was done and left, I wound up taking a short rest at the bench next to the bridge in RF. While resting, I looked back at my typed poem on my phone and made some revisions. It was dark out and I'm in front of a busy stretch of road.

I got home and typed up the poem for Facebook.

Afterwhich, I began to think more about the fact that I should really start to shut up about these kinds of things. The best way to do that, I think, is to convey my feelings into poetry and write them in my poem book.

I wrote about my Poem Book on here in the past: http://northernilsportswriter.blogspot.com/2013/02/love-through-written-word.html

The event during my junior year was just one of many that had to do with a young autistic kid's struggles with love. I've had many more.

To truly understand these moments more, I think writing about them in poem form will help.

Of course, while I do that my mind will be on the same people I had loved in the past. And, yes, I've written constantly about how I've tried to get them off of my mind in the love sense.

However, I think there is only one way I can stop "falling in love" with them.

Once hooked with someone else (whenever that day may come), and are are officially "boyfriend/girlfriend" will these memories fade away and not be annoying as much.

So, here is my newest poem.

***

If only I would have known
How sad you were
My arm over your shoulder
That is for sure

If only I would have known
The scars from those past
I would do all to heal
So they shall never last

If only I would have known
The meaning of your joy
I would embrace it more
And no more a shy boy

If only I would have known
Your feelings that night
I would have made all well
Oh the feelings I had to fight

If only I would have known
And see a trace of love for me
I'd have cared for you more
Than what you could ever see
If only I would have known
You more than I know now
All things would be different
If I could go back somehow

If only I would have known
If only I would have known
But I failed to see
No one's fault but my own

Emerita

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.61.40
Current Song - Holding Back The Years (Simply Red)

Ever get that one word stuck in your head after hearing it somehow?

Today, that word was "Emeritus."

Commonly, "emeritus" is associated with college professors that have retired. Those that have retired are not automatically titled with the term, as these are referred to simply as "retired professors." The title of emeritus, which is honorific, has to be bestowed upon by someone or something of higher or equal rank. They can come and go within the college department as they please. On their own time.

Two noteable cases of an emeritus rank: Pope Benedict XVI, who resigned from the head of the Catholic Church more than a month ago, is now considered a "Pope Emeritus." Pat Summitt, who stepped down from the women's basketball head coaching position at Tennessee last year, is a "Head Coach Emeritus."

However, when referring to a female that has been bestowed the rank, the term "emerita" is often used.

"Emerita" was introduced to me after researching the word "emeritus." I had never heard the word used before in person.

In definition, the term (either masculine or feminine) is of Latin origin which means "having served one's time." And they do not serve any more in official capacity, but is forever remembered.

On my own, I happened to come up with the concept of a "Crush Emerita." I didn't think that phrase existed until I did a Google search of it. Turns out only a couple of internet pages had that very term. This Blog entry will be the third such search result.

"Crush Emeritus" had more search results because, as mentioned, the term "emerita" is not used often. In these cases, such crushes are of celebrities and other people that they have never met. They are still considered crushes, but are no longer looked at as closely. However, they still linger somewhere in their hearts.

Personally, I know of four girls that I consider a "Crush Emerita." I wrote a poem about them in February.

They no longer serve as a real crush to me (three are now married and one was a mutual understanding), but are important to me in many ways.

Hence, I dub thee "Crush Emerita."

I have no crush now. I have had many crushes in the past. But these four are worthy of the title.

Moving on now ...

Rut Update

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.31.40
Current Song - Right Now (Van Halen)

Pretty sure my car has a problem with the drive axle. It makes a grinding noise when I put it in drive and it won't move. When I put it in park it doesn't rest and feels like it's really in neutral.

I had a similar problem when driving to work in Dixon one day. So that's where I'm guessing drive axle. I also patched in a call to one of the parts stores in town, where one of them is around $75 after tax. I would like to get my cousin look at it. So my fingers are crossed right now.

I do want to get this car problem fixed, as opposed to getting a different car. I was comtemplating what to do about it before walking to work last night.

Of course, I always drive the 1/3 mile there, so when one of my co-workers wondered what was up, I told her.

She asked me what I was leaning toward. I said I didn't know, and that I didn't have enough energy to work a second job (as mentioned in the previous Blog entry) to help pay for another car.

Then came one of those "You don't have to answer this to me, or you can, but ..." questions.

"Do you eat a lot of junk food?"

I still do, despite having cut back on it since that health scare in November. As of this write, I am down from 343 to 308 and counting. She told me that was the whole problem - junk food. She then asked me when was the last time I had any blood work done. I didn't know what she meant, so she clarified by asking me when was the last time I had blood taken out by a doctor.

I can't even remember, telling her the last time I saw a doctor was 13 years ago when I had surgery on a cyst in my throat. Plus, I don't go to a doctor for financial reasons. I don't have any insurance, medical card, HMO or whatever they're called. Just the cash to my name.

That led to my cholesterol. My dad had it bad years ago. I've never had mine checked, but I can simply guess that it's maybe around 400, judging from what he ate then and what I ate not too long ago. My fault entirely. I don't know how to get one, or how much it costs. I don't feel like getting one until I know how much it costs.

In addition to more exercise, I learned about tomatoes. Apparently, the acid helps dissolve fat, plus learning that my fat is pushing on my organs and making them work overtime. I had a feeling, but never told to me like that.

Oatmeal in the morning. Granola bars. Tomato and turkey sandwich, that is, turkey fresh from a deli stand. More walking.

All up to me and in my hands.

I've also struggled to substitute pop with water; something I've told myself I was going to do for at least two years. The prices worried me. I've found pop in the 12-pack for as less as $2.50. If I can find a better deal on bottled water, that'd be great. Right now I have a 12-pack of County Market-brand regular cola and a 12-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper that I'd like to get rid of now.

All told, the decision to fix my car problem is based on needing TIME to regain strength and to increase endurance and stamina. After a while the car will fall apart completely. When that happens, I'll take a look at what's out there.

So it's a health decision, really.

My health is more important than anything right now.

Problems With Stamina & Endurance

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.21.40
Current Song - My City Was Gone (Pretenders)

My car broke down today. I'm at an impasse when it comes to it. Get this problem fixed, or buy a different car.

I went to make a turn and something fell out of place to where the car wouldn't drive. Something with the gears it seems like, driveaxle perhaps. Hopefully it's not the transmission. But this has me deathly worried right now. I just feel lost right now.

I have the down payment to pay for a different car somewhere. The next step after that is the payments. That'll need to go on top of what amounts to be nearly $800/month when it comes to the typical monthly bills and rent. My current job and the shifts I work can barely pay for all of that, and what's left goes toward groceries and fuel.

That literally means that in order to pay for a different car, I'll have to bring in more money somehow. I've felt okay throughout all of this, until now.

Problem is, I simply do not have the energy to physically work a second job. Sometimes I feel like I can barely make it through my current job, tiring out a lot.

This is a huge mountain to climb.

The last thing I want to do is to walk into work at the Shell station and be wiped out and fall on the floor (slow-motion, movie style) by 9 p.m. and four hours left in the shift. Or have a heartattack.

Somehow I'll need to find a way to acquire more energy. And then, perhaps, more money.

It's Now Or Never!

Cutter's Log - Stardate 3102.11.40
Current Song - Goldberg Theme

Six years ago, I thought I had it. Graduation smashed us all into little pieces, and I was lost for a little while. Then the moment came when I found myself saying, "Cody, she's still here. She's right over there." That didn't work out, and despte a couple of even longer-shot opportunities, that was it for me.

It's been three years since last feeling this feeling. And if you know me well, you know what I'm leading up to.

Yep.

And I actually think I have a chance this time.

"Not this again! I thought you were done! Defeated. Blown out of your misery. Retreated to the small house you'll spend the rest of your life in ... alone!

You're a has-been, Cody. All you do is look at your past, because you know damn well that you are destroying your future and letting it slip through your fingertips. You know it.

Your past. Gee, this "chance". I can narrow it down to a category of about 15, of which about five or six are still left. Am I right?"

You seem awfully interested. Why should I tell you? It's not your right to know. Yet.

"Well, if I can't get it out of your mouth - don't worry, we always seem to find out who it is somehow behind your back - perhaps this will help ...

Let me tell you a story ... about a kid named Daniel. You know, your brother. You want to know why Danny is the popular kid he is today? BECAUSE HE DIDN'T TURN HIS BACK ON THE PEOPLE THAT HELPED HIM! Unlike you, Cody!

For four years, your little brother was a beloved fixture at SHS, and still is. Basketball maanger. Baseball manager. He bleeds Blue and Gold, and he loves it. They made him feel welcome at SHS, not letting his conditions deter him."

You say one more word about my brother, I swear to God ...

"Oh, no. I don't do that. You see, he took that embracement and held on to it. You, Cody, were given that same treatment. Remember?"

Yes I was. At least I think it was.

"Don't give me that debate! All your classmates knew you acted "off", so they rmbraced you. Tried to help you. Remember the "pimp walk" and the "pimp glasses"? Nathan, D.J. and Corey were trying to help you. Remember eighth grade basketball? That led to all of those managing opportunities at SHS, didn't it?

Ask any of your teammates from the Class of 2002 and 2003. They loved you. They embraced you. You were what Danny would end up being like when he was a freshman - beloved. Think about it; if you would have kept on going the same way your brother did, maybe you would have a social life right now."

Now hold it right there! If, let's say, I went down your path, Danny would have had to live in my shadow, and wouldn't get the same treatment that he got today. Would have been redundant.

I am so proud of my brother! I would do anything for him, and that includes not regretting any decision that would have ruined my brother's future. Even if it is after-the-fact.

"You don't regret it? You don't regret it?!?!? Tell that to all of the people you turned your back on. You turned your back on people that went out of their way to make you happy at SHS: classmates, teachers, coaches, superfans.

And why did you turn your back on them, Cody? Why? They know, but you won't tell them and they just can't seem to understand because of that. So let me tell you.

You turned your back on them because of your overblown ego. You traded a promising future, for what you THOUGHT was a promising future. You listened to your heart. No not YOUR heart. Your so-called heart that was revolving around ..."

STOP!

I know where you're going with that. Did I trade my blue and gold. I did. Can't deny that. But let me tell you something. I've had a lot of people falsely assume that I'm playing with fire and "gonna get ill" - to which their asses will be kicked because that's some of the harshest things you can say about someone.

"You are a failure because you listened to your desires. How'd that turn out? Oh yeah. Daaaaa! Daaaaa! Da Da Da Da Da! Not once. Not twice. Not three times. More that that. You know it. They know it. THEY know it.

Looks like this is your final chance."

If you think you are going to stop me from knowing what it's like to be in love, not a chance! If anybody from my past things they are going to stop me; put me "in my place," they're dead wrong. Dead wrong. My feelings are what they are. It's now or never. I'll find out who my friends are. I'll find out who my enemies are. Either way, I'll have a better piece of mind.

I may have an army against me. And I ask for help myself. But I will not rest until I find true love! I don't give up. Never have. Never will. No matter now much resistance I am dealt with.

"Well, good luck. You'll need it!"

We'll see about that!