This Life of Mine

Recently, I have realized how fortunate I am in this life of mine. I have a caring family, a supportive house, food, and clothes; not to mention, I have the opportunity to experience a university and become educated enough to pursue a lifestyle of my choosing.

My ultimate dream? Be a professional goddamn writer, to see my books on bookshelves; but, the truth of it is–all I want is to be happy. I care not whether I have bags o’ money running out the windowsills, or owning the largest mansion in America, even the world.

Material wealth means little to me; granted, it keeps me alive, but tis’ not my lifeblood.

I am able to think those thoughts and dream those dreams, because I live in a place of good fortune, a place where determination is my motto. I will head off to college in two months with the mindset that whatever comes out of these upcoming four years will be taking me the tiniest step closer to where I want to be in this life of mine.

And isn’t it incredible? We all have our own lives, our own motivations, the somethings no one can take from us without putting up a fight. It is will. It is will, and it is confidence. Those are our superpowers in a universe of chance, since all that happens is determined by the roll of the dice, right?

Or wrong?

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Give It Up.

I want to tell you guys something, something special.

When I was a freshman in high school, I ran Track. I have gone over the sport in an earlier post, told you all about how much fun it was to belt out a two mile an hour after a mile–and I’m sure some of you think I’m being sarcastic when I say that, but, unfortunately for you, I am not.

The team was–well, I wouldn’t really call it a team in the first place. We were the Distance Runners, the Sprinters, the Throwers, and the Jumpers, not specifically a Track team. We had our class sections, too, the Freshman and the Seniors, being the most separated of those ranks.

It wasn’t only the students, either. The coaches didn’t see eye-to-eye on most things; in fact, most talked behind one another’s backs–and so, it transferred to the students, creating a whirlpool of bad attitude and glum that made running not fun at times.

Of course, I was new, had no idea what the team was like; but, even then, I didn’t give a shit about some invisible system run by people who had had it run for them, and them before; and it probably went back and back. Who knows? All I knew was that it felt weird.

I went about my routine for a while, and ran races as was expected during the season, but throughout the whole thing, I was observing and gaining insight on this overbearing atmosphere, not liking it too much. The different events never interacted with each other. If they did, it always turned into an insult battle: who works harder…who has the tougher workouts…

Before I delve further, I want to clarify that I myself succumbed to this attitude for a time , enough to make me sick and attempt to abandon the ideals that had been planted in my young mind. It was a battle progressing into sophomore year, but I at last broke it this year, after a period of self-enforced solitude for junior year.

Anyways, it sucked. Lines had to have seniors leading them, even if it meant stepping in front of the freshman already standing there; the events engaged in horrible arguments, calling names–again, even the coaches joined in, behind the scenes; and there were derogatory comments tossed around from one end of the track to the other, so you couldn’t escape them.

That was what got me. The derogatory comments.

If a senior said openly the freshmen will not be making it to State, I got pissed. So, they thought the team wasn’t skilled enough to carry its talent through the classes, and what exactly gave them that authority? Their experience? Could they see into the future? If so, then my school should have invested in a Clairvoyant course, all psychics to the front of the class.

I hate it when the upper echelon tells the lower echelon what it can and cannot do.

I hate that there are echelons.

Why not join up, be a team, to inspire others with your camaraderie?

Why not, instead of saying, “give it up,” say, “give it all?”

I wish I had spoken up, but I was a freshman who thought his words meant nothing. I sat back and watched, sure; however, I also learned, and I spent time preparing what I would want to change about our team, to make it a team. There were successes, also failures–but I kept striving forward, despite the view of others that the team could not and would not change.

As a senior, it is great to see the change implementing itself–as they always say–slowly but surely. The team is a team, for the most part. There are some kinks here and there, but they have a long time to straighten out the hose.

I only hope it will stay straight.

Think daily,

A Southpaw


A Nightmare On College Street

It’s beginning to sink in…

You see, college is just around the corner, and I feel unprepared. It’s not as if I’m not ready, which I am; c’mon people, gimme a break! But it is scary to consider there will be no more guiding leash. Only yesterday, my mom was telling me I had to get a full-time job this summer. Geez Louise, Mom, I’m eighteen, it’s not like I can be a functioning member of society!

Eight hour work shift, my ass. I’ll go the full nine yards–yep, that’s me, being the overachiever. Get busy at a restaurant washing dishes, or pile horse crap onto a trailer at some farming store. Sure. And how much am I getting paid again?

College’ll be fun, of that I have little doubt. I’m studying for a teaching degree, gonna educate these high schoolers about the beeuty of grammar–oops, spelling error. I look forward to attaining my degree and becoming a teacher, which will be my safety net while I write stories and send them off to publishers. I’ll teach stuff. I’ll say stuff. I’ll write stuff on a whiteboard. Man, it sounds like the best job in the world, don’t it? Add on top of that a shitload of coffee and–well, you know what comes after you drink a lot of coffee.

Dorms don’t seem my cup of tea. I have heard plenty of horror stories about roommates and their different variations. It’s like someone puts together a Build-Me-Frankenstein doll kit and sticks all these body parts and brains on bare bodies. Yuck, gross image, right? Might have to go wash out the old noggin after that one.

But I digress–God, I hate when people say that–college is not all it is cracked up to be. No…it’s much more terrifying, a real fright for the kiddies. When people leave college, they always say…”I had to ask where the bathroom was on the first day” and, even scarier, “The kid in the desk next to me drooled on my notes.” The horror! Oh, what a monstrosity!

And on top of all that,

I have to pay for it!

Think daily,

A Southpaw

Prom and Punch

What is the number one stress of high schoolers all across America?



I’m talking about prom, people! The biggest dance of your teenage life prom? The one where the guy asks the girl, and then–it–well, it goes on as normal from there. Anyway, it’s coming up for a lot of folks, which is exciting!

Don’t know if I’m going or not. I did the whole asking thing, but it didn’t turn out in my favor; go figure, huh? Might as well go stag and freak out a shitload of people with my dancing skills.

Woah, check this cat out!

Is he doing the worm? No, it looks like the anteater! 

Dude, didn’t the anteater go out of style three years ago?

Yeah, man, this cat is kicking at a dry litter box; let’s beat it. 



Excuse Bill and Ted there, they sometimes pop up. But I don’t see Keanu Reeves much anymore; rumor is he finally found the sweet spot of Hollywood and is chomping on feature film candy as we speak.

If I do go to prom, I’ll likely stand in the back and drink punch like a creep. Girls’ll walk up to me, and I’ll say, “Hey…you think the punch is good, or what?” I will name it a victory if they don’t dump their punch in my face–oh, not the shirt, please not the shirt!

It’ll be nice. It’ll be real nice.

And you know? That’s exactly what the farmer said to Old Yeller before he shot him.

Actually, I haven’t watched it in a while, so what do I know? Guess I have plans now.

Think daily,

A Southpaw