Lemonade: You either drink it or you don't. It might taste good if and when you drink it, but the memory of the flavor only lasts a short amount of time until you stick something else in your mouth. I like lemons, and I like lemonade, but, the point is, our relationship with one another doesn't last all that long to matter.
A friend of mine lent me a book called "It's Kind of a Funny Story," by Ned Vizzini. In it, a determined teenager, Craig Gilner, will do whatever it takes to succeed at life. Along the way, the book takes a few dramatic, perhaps depressing turns of Craig's character and others around him. Around the point of Craig seeking help for his depression, a really interesting concept is brought up that is called "Anchors." I'm sure we all know what an anchor is in real life--it's that heavy gizmo that keeps big boats docked--and the concept mentioned is similar. An anchor is someone or something that we can rely on; someone or something that won't get up and walk away i.e. parents, hobbies, etc. These are generally things that you CAN have an emotional tie with, but they won't walk away unless you do--which theoretically strengthens your emotional capacity. I love this concept.
That brings us to the reason for the title.
Flowers die. Every living thing does. It's an unfortunate truth. Although parents can be an anchor, anchors are generally things that are NOT alive. In which case, these things or activities remain constant in your life until you die--If I died, up to this point, it would be a sad day for the bowling lanes.
Flowers are a beautiful thing. In our society, they're used in many beautiful ways. For example, we use them to send to someone we love or someone we're dating. But we also use them to place on a tombstone to honor someone who passed. Even the latter example is used for the living, although the flower is given TO the dead. We remember these flowers, whoever they are given to; wherever they are placed. When they are given to us, we remember them even more! We take care of them and nurture them to the best of our ability. Sometimes we put them inside of a vase. Sometimes we put them inside of a flower pot with soil. Sometimes we hang them upside down to forever preserve the flower's beautiful color, so that it can be kept and seen whenever you want to see it.
While flowers are alive, they give off a beautiful smell throughout your house that reminds you each day of the person who may have given you those flowers. All-in-all, when life gives you flowers, they remind you that you're loved. It's the most beautiful thing to be loved--to be REALLY loved. And what better way to be reminded that you're loved than with the awakening of a few of your senses! (One of which triggers dormant memories the best: the sense of smell).
Although flowers do die, they remind me of anchors. Since they are preservable, you can keep them forever. They'll always remind you of a time when you were loved, too. Not that you're not loved by someone now, but the flower or flowers were given to you as a token of appreciation. They were sent to you so that you KNOW, without a doubt, that you're appreciated. I know there are other ways to show appreciation (lulz, duh), but flowers aren't overbearing. They're the quintessential life-prize bestowed upon you by someone in your life that matters at THAT moment in time. If this person is family, then you've got yourself 2 great anchors. If this person is a lover, they might go away, but you'll always have the memory of getting those flowers from them.
Some flowers are metaphorical, of course. I feel like I've been receiving flowers for a few months now. Whether they are certain people, objects, or activities, anchors are being formed. These things of which I'll never forget. Take a minute to think about the anchors in your life. And take another minute to realize their importance for your sanity. If they were given to you, or even if you pursued them on your own, preserve them. You never really know how long they'll be important to you.
- PatInTheHat
Saturday, November 29, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Two Sides to the Coin (w/ added section) *Last update*
Please read until the end if you want to make comments off of this post. This investigation was botched in so many ways. The original post was everything up to my signing, and the update follows. ________________
Well, here we go. The decision has been made by the grand jury of Missouri to not indict the cop, Darren Wilson, who shot and killed Michael Brown. Unlike Ferguson, I'm not shocked. The justice system doesn't always make the right decision, but in this case, with the evidence that was provided, I honestly believe they made the right call.
It was only a short time after the shooting that I had countless arguments with friends and friends of friends advocating for the side of Michael Brown. I also had a really interesting conversation with my father before all of the evidence came out. My father and I are devil's advocates--more in the way of looking at both sides of the situation, or literally putting ourselves in the shoes of both parties: Brown and Wilson in this case. I love these conversations, because it really gets the mind rolling. This post will describe most of that conversation, and then I'll conclude with my own thoughts on the issue. I'm using this conversation, because in order to make the most sense of it all, we threw out any of the witness testimony, which just so happens to be what the grand jury did, too. Funny, huh?
"There's NO WAY Michael Brown was killed justifiably!" I yelled at my father as he looked on from the kitchen. When it comes to these kinds of topics, yelling/charisma can sometimes provoke effectively even if, at the time, you have no idea what you're talking about. This was not one of those times.
"Take race out of the equation for a minute," my father retorts calmly, "Let's say that Michael Brown is a 300 pound white man who is lunging at you (I'm about 150). At this point, you know he could be dangerous since you just heard over the radio that a store was being robbed by said individual."
"BUT HE WASN'T WHITE!" I always loved shooting down my father's devil's advocate rhetoric, because he uses it all the time. That said, he really helped me see a different POV here.
"Just listen to me for a second: I don't think this is a race issue," he said. Then he re-explained his previous points. "If you legitimately feared for your life while someone was charging you, would you take the risk and not shoot a potential threat?"
"Well, yeah!" I exclaimed, "but why not shoot for the knees/legs? And if you're a cop that does the job right, you wouldn't have shot him 8 or so times!" As a side note, I later learned that cops are trained to shoot at the chest. I understand that's where the most mass is, but that doesn't tend to be an un-fatal area to shoot someone. Although they are trained that way, I'm still not thrilled with that answer, but the truth is the truth. I digress...
"He was too close to shoot at the legs!" my father rebutted, taking some of the potential evidence he did find--this evidence was used in the grand jury trial. "And apparently, Michael Brown was reaching for the officer's gun!"
"Aren't there other ways, though!? Couldn't the officer have used his taser?" To this argument, I also learned that not all officers carry tasers. Then I asked why, and was answered with "government funding," and then I subsequently hated everything. It's almost like, "Oh, we'd rather have a better chance of killing someone than subduing them, interesting."
"You keep talking about Wilson. I want YOU to try to be HIM for a minute. Answer as if it was happening to you." My dad is always such a smart ass with this shit. As you can probably tell, he's really good at it. He never lets you deflect or deviate. He tries to keep you on his train of thought. Is it annoying as all fucking hell? Yes, absolutely. But I definitely learn this way. It hurts admitting that, but it's true.
"I would've..." I paused. I remembered hearing that he may have been on drugs, too, so that started swirling through my head. "...well I did hear he was on drugs, but at the time I wouldn't have known that!" Coming to that mid-thought epiphany, I continued, "I still can't say I would have shot him 8 times!"
"But what if he punched you in the face, like one report said, disorienting you. What now?" My dad moved his Queen to E5. It wasn't checkmate yet, but I was drawing dead. Then my dad acted it out without me being ready. He quickly got out of his chair and lunged at me as if to punch/attack me. "Times up," he said. Checkmate. In that moment I would have thought to grab anything and use it. Your mind really gets stimulated when you're in the heat of a physical altercation, and many times we forget what that feeling is like until it happens. In almost an instant, your pupils dilate, your palms start to sweat, you shake from adrenaline, etc. Even the best cops feel this way sometimes. Not all cops are prepared for an attacker even if, as citizens, we feel like they should be.
"I...I may have shot him until he stopped." If Michael Brown was as close as they say, I might not have even had the chance to draw the gun unless I already had it drawn. It was said, even in the official reports, that after being shot, Brown didn't stop charging. I know there are some missing puzzle pieces, like the medical examiner not having batteries for his camera, and the officers leaving Michael Brown's dead body in the streets and uncovered for several hours. These things definitely seem incriminating for the Ferguson police dept., and perhaps that should have been dealt with; however, those are separate issues.
To conclude, even though I agree with the decision of the grand jury, I cannot rule out that this wasn't a race issue. I'm not saying that it was, but it's still hard to rule out that potential. The way everything was handled from top to bottom doesn't make any sense. It was handled so poorly that either the Ferguson police dept. is ridiculously ignorant or seriously racist. Honestly, the former would make me less uneasy. With that said, this does not give the citizens of Ferguson the right to ignorantly freak out. This is NOT how issues are solved. They need to understand that the justice system played out and worked the way it was supposed to. I know the decision is unfavorable for them and many of those who feel like there is a direct link to race with the killing of Michael Brown.
There was a famous quote given by Jon Stewart about race back about a week or so after the shooting. He said, "Race is there and it is a constant. You're tired of hearin' about it? Imagine how fucking exhausting it is living it." This HAS to be taken into consideration when things like this are happening. Those of white decent can never understand what it was like growing up as a minority of any kind. You can't. You might want to; you might try to; but you can't. In any given situation there are two sides to the coin. We, along with our justice system, do our best to determine every angle (at least I certainly hope so.) Sometimes that system fails, and we all get really angry about its failure, but things do change in failure. I hate that this happened, but think about how thorough that dept. is going to be from now on with every police-to-civilian altercation. Answer: super thorough. After things calm down, I very much doubt that Ferguson, and even many police depts around the country, will let anything like this happen again. At the very least, their protocols will change. That's my hope.
- PatInTheHat
After reading the autopsy reports, both public and private, firearm examiner, and a slew of other now-public documents, I'm even more conflicted than before. I'll post the link to them, and then you can decide for yourself, but there seems like there is practically NO way that Wilson could not be indicted. I mean, the evidence IS RIGHT THERE! The private autopsy report shows 12 BULLET WOUNDS, while the public one only shows FIVE!? Which is it?! If you're going to throw out the witness accounts for having varying stories, YOU MIGHT AS WELL THROW OUT THE AUTOPSY REPORTS, TOO!
It's really hard to comment on every aspect of the things that I'm reading. The witness journal is really strange, too.
I also just read Wilson's recorded interview the very next day. And although I'm ticked that he shot the gun so many times, it really seems like he may have been telling the truth, and he sounded scared shitless.
Please read some of these reports, at least:
http://apps.stlpublicradio.org/ferguson-project/evidence.html
I'm done trying to make sense of this. It's a fucking shit-storm.
Please give me your comments, I'd actually love to hear them. Everything written in this post is not to offend anyone. This whole case is full of conflicts, so please forgive my swaying, but this is how I learn. Thanks.
___________________________
I've really enjoyed hearing from multiple point of views about this issue, so everyone that has taken their time to message me or talk in person about this, I say "Thanks" to you.
One of the things that I definitely overlooked that was said to me last night is that no matter what the outcome of the Darren Wilson case, the system is MORBIDLY flawed. Whether Brown was black, white, asian, mexican, etc. if you're able to unload a whole clip into a person without any repercussions than that's a problem. I also think there needs to be better ways to subdue a suspect. The fact that certain police depts allow their police to carry guns but not a taser is beyond my comprehension. This stance, in and of itself, should incriminate the system. I'm not sure why the government would give authorities a weapon with better potential to kill than subdue other than the idea that they'd rather kill than subdue (or at least, rather give authorities that option).
Lastly, peaceful protests AGAINST THE SYSTEM I'm all in favor for. I will not advocate violence. I understand the struggle the oppressed have faced over the course of our nation's history, but violence is not the answer. Still hoping real positive change can occur in the wake of this unfortunate event.
Well, here we go. The decision has been made by the grand jury of Missouri to not indict the cop, Darren Wilson, who shot and killed Michael Brown. Unlike Ferguson, I'm not shocked. The justice system doesn't always make the right decision, but in this case, with the evidence that was provided, I honestly believe they made the right call.
It was only a short time after the shooting that I had countless arguments with friends and friends of friends advocating for the side of Michael Brown. I also had a really interesting conversation with my father before all of the evidence came out. My father and I are devil's advocates--more in the way of looking at both sides of the situation, or literally putting ourselves in the shoes of both parties: Brown and Wilson in this case. I love these conversations, because it really gets the mind rolling. This post will describe most of that conversation, and then I'll conclude with my own thoughts on the issue. I'm using this conversation, because in order to make the most sense of it all, we threw out any of the witness testimony, which just so happens to be what the grand jury did, too. Funny, huh?
"There's NO WAY Michael Brown was killed justifiably!" I yelled at my father as he looked on from the kitchen. When it comes to these kinds of topics, yelling/charisma can sometimes provoke effectively even if, at the time, you have no idea what you're talking about. This was not one of those times.
"Take race out of the equation for a minute," my father retorts calmly, "Let's say that Michael Brown is a 300 pound white man who is lunging at you (I'm about 150). At this point, you know he could be dangerous since you just heard over the radio that a store was being robbed by said individual."
"BUT HE WASN'T WHITE!" I always loved shooting down my father's devil's advocate rhetoric, because he uses it all the time. That said, he really helped me see a different POV here.
"Just listen to me for a second: I don't think this is a race issue," he said. Then he re-explained his previous points. "If you legitimately feared for your life while someone was charging you, would you take the risk and not shoot a potential threat?"
"Well, yeah!" I exclaimed, "but why not shoot for the knees/legs? And if you're a cop that does the job right, you wouldn't have shot him 8 or so times!" As a side note, I later learned that cops are trained to shoot at the chest. I understand that's where the most mass is, but that doesn't tend to be an un-fatal area to shoot someone. Although they are trained that way, I'm still not thrilled with that answer, but the truth is the truth. I digress...
"He was too close to shoot at the legs!" my father rebutted, taking some of the potential evidence he did find--this evidence was used in the grand jury trial. "And apparently, Michael Brown was reaching for the officer's gun!"
"Aren't there other ways, though!? Couldn't the officer have used his taser?" To this argument, I also learned that not all officers carry tasers. Then I asked why, and was answered with "government funding," and then I subsequently hated everything. It's almost like, "Oh, we'd rather have a better chance of killing someone than subduing them, interesting."
"You keep talking about Wilson. I want YOU to try to be HIM for a minute. Answer as if it was happening to you." My dad is always such a smart ass with this shit. As you can probably tell, he's really good at it. He never lets you deflect or deviate. He tries to keep you on his train of thought. Is it annoying as all fucking hell? Yes, absolutely. But I definitely learn this way. It hurts admitting that, but it's true.
"I would've..." I paused. I remembered hearing that he may have been on drugs, too, so that started swirling through my head. "...well I did hear he was on drugs, but at the time I wouldn't have known that!" Coming to that mid-thought epiphany, I continued, "I still can't say I would have shot him 8 times!"
"But what if he punched you in the face, like one report said, disorienting you. What now?" My dad moved his Queen to E5. It wasn't checkmate yet, but I was drawing dead. Then my dad acted it out without me being ready. He quickly got out of his chair and lunged at me as if to punch/attack me. "Times up," he said. Checkmate. In that moment I would have thought to grab anything and use it. Your mind really gets stimulated when you're in the heat of a physical altercation, and many times we forget what that feeling is like until it happens. In almost an instant, your pupils dilate, your palms start to sweat, you shake from adrenaline, etc. Even the best cops feel this way sometimes. Not all cops are prepared for an attacker even if, as citizens, we feel like they should be.
"I...I may have shot him until he stopped." If Michael Brown was as close as they say, I might not have even had the chance to draw the gun unless I already had it drawn. It was said, even in the official reports, that after being shot, Brown didn't stop charging. I know there are some missing puzzle pieces, like the medical examiner not having batteries for his camera, and the officers leaving Michael Brown's dead body in the streets and uncovered for several hours. These things definitely seem incriminating for the Ferguson police dept., and perhaps that should have been dealt with; however, those are separate issues.
To conclude, even though I agree with the decision of the grand jury, I cannot rule out that this wasn't a race issue. I'm not saying that it was, but it's still hard to rule out that potential. The way everything was handled from top to bottom doesn't make any sense. It was handled so poorly that either the Ferguson police dept. is ridiculously ignorant or seriously racist. Honestly, the former would make me less uneasy. With that said, this does not give the citizens of Ferguson the right to ignorantly freak out. This is NOT how issues are solved. They need to understand that the justice system played out and worked the way it was supposed to. I know the decision is unfavorable for them and many of those who feel like there is a direct link to race with the killing of Michael Brown.
There was a famous quote given by Jon Stewart about race back about a week or so after the shooting. He said, "Race is there and it is a constant. You're tired of hearin' about it? Imagine how fucking exhausting it is living it." This HAS to be taken into consideration when things like this are happening. Those of white decent can never understand what it was like growing up as a minority of any kind. You can't. You might want to; you might try to; but you can't. In any given situation there are two sides to the coin. We, along with our justice system, do our best to determine every angle (at least I certainly hope so.) Sometimes that system fails, and we all get really angry about its failure, but things do change in failure. I hate that this happened, but think about how thorough that dept. is going to be from now on with every police-to-civilian altercation. Answer: super thorough. After things calm down, I very much doubt that Ferguson, and even many police depts around the country, will let anything like this happen again. At the very least, their protocols will change. That's my hope.
- PatInTheHat
After reading the autopsy reports, both public and private, firearm examiner, and a slew of other now-public documents, I'm even more conflicted than before. I'll post the link to them, and then you can decide for yourself, but there seems like there is practically NO way that Wilson could not be indicted. I mean, the evidence IS RIGHT THERE! The private autopsy report shows 12 BULLET WOUNDS, while the public one only shows FIVE!? Which is it?! If you're going to throw out the witness accounts for having varying stories, YOU MIGHT AS WELL THROW OUT THE AUTOPSY REPORTS, TOO!
It's really hard to comment on every aspect of the things that I'm reading. The witness journal is really strange, too.
I also just read Wilson's recorded interview the very next day. And although I'm ticked that he shot the gun so many times, it really seems like he may have been telling the truth, and he sounded scared shitless.
Please read some of these reports, at least:
http://apps.stlpublicradio.org/ferguson-project/evidence.html
I'm done trying to make sense of this. It's a fucking shit-storm.
Please give me your comments, I'd actually love to hear them. Everything written in this post is not to offend anyone. This whole case is full of conflicts, so please forgive my swaying, but this is how I learn. Thanks.
___________________________
I've really enjoyed hearing from multiple point of views about this issue, so everyone that has taken their time to message me or talk in person about this, I say "Thanks" to you.
One of the things that I definitely overlooked that was said to me last night is that no matter what the outcome of the Darren Wilson case, the system is MORBIDLY flawed. Whether Brown was black, white, asian, mexican, etc. if you're able to unload a whole clip into a person without any repercussions than that's a problem. I also think there needs to be better ways to subdue a suspect. The fact that certain police depts allow their police to carry guns but not a taser is beyond my comprehension. This stance, in and of itself, should incriminate the system. I'm not sure why the government would give authorities a weapon with better potential to kill than subdue other than the idea that they'd rather kill than subdue (or at least, rather give authorities that option).
Lastly, peaceful protests AGAINST THE SYSTEM I'm all in favor for. I will not advocate violence. I understand the struggle the oppressed have faced over the course of our nation's history, but violence is not the answer. Still hoping real positive change can occur in the wake of this unfortunate event.
Monday, November 24, 2014
To My Friends
When I was around 10/11 years old, a family of South Koreans moved a couple houses down on the block I've lived on my entire life. By this point, most of the people on the block considered that house haunted, and for a while, so did I--more on that in a later post. What I didn't know is that two kids living in that house would turn out to be--with some semblance of legendary status--a couple of my best friends.
Danny and Tommy were whirlwinds. If any of you thought I was hyper-active, then with these two combined, in comparison, you could have practically created a tornado. Danny is two years older me, and at the time he towered over Tommy and my other childhood best friend Todd. Every single day, if we had the chance, we'd create some activity that involved half of the neighborhood. Whether it was football, soccer, wiffle ball/stick ball, basketball, hacky-sack, you name it, we did it.
Over the next couple years we all bonded and got really close. We even got into little nerdy games like Yu-Gi-Oh! One thing that impressed Todd and I the most about these two: their incredible ability to break dance. Tommy was only 9 years old, and Danny was between 12 and 13 years old, and these kids already looked like pros. I mean, I was 11ish so anything where anyone was performing acrobatics of any kind probably made my jaw drop in wonderment. Todd and I knew that they had really decent upper-body strength to do all of these fancy hand-stand style break dancing moves, so we had to ask them: How are you guys this strong already? Their answer: Karate.
Unbeknownst to us, Danny and Tommy's mother and father were both multi-degree black-belts. One of the awesome pieces of memorabilia that they showed us in their house subsequent to telling us these facts was a medal given to their father for performing 1,000 push-ups in a row. Once again, jaws were dropping everywhere. Todd and I knew that if we wanted to do what they did, and we DEFINITELY did, then we would have to start training. Who better to train us than some break dancing Korean kids, right? Exactly.
In a pretty short time, Todd and I could basically do everything Danny and Tommy could do. Not nearly as tight and impressive, but still, it took a lot for us to build up muscle strength we never had. Along the way, they also taught us what they knew about martial arts. Although they were never awarded belts, they were taught quite a lot from their parents, which was apparent by how disciplined they were. Sometimes we would spar. Danny would always win, as well he should. Sometimes, Todd or myself would beat/accidentally hurt Tommy, and then we had to run away from Danny--I've never run faster in my life, guaranteed.
Over the winter months, we still did the same sports activities. When it snowed, we stuck to football, sledding, and snow-ball fights. Unfortunately, we can't really do the latter two at any other point throughout the year, so that was definitely a little different. One day in January, Todd and I had a massive war-like snowball fight between Danny and Tommy. We were going at it for hours with strategy, snow forts, and slush buckets (for those unfamiliar with this term, it's when you fill a bucket with mostly water, and dip the snow in the water to give that extra explosion on connected throws). At some point it got too dark to continue; we called a "truce" and went inside expected to have more fun the next day.
That next day, I went over to Todd's. He lived right across the street from Danny and Tommy, and ever since we were even younger kids, we would make sure we were accounted for before doing anything with anyone else. Once he was ready, we went right over to knock for Danny and Tommy, but there was some strange things we noticed: their basketball net was gone, their cars were gone, and there was an eeriness as we went up to knock on their door. Even though we figured they weren't home, we knocked anyway. No one answered. We attempted the same thing for the next couple days until we noticed a new tenant was entering the house.
Danny and Tommy were gone.
( 12 years later; 2 months ago )
Well, it's about that time, again. Every other year my family takes a trek to Disney World, and this is that "other year," though, at 23 years old, it's likely my last. Although we just flew (some of us for the first time in a long time) for my brother's wedding down in the Virgin Islands, my mom and dad still wanted to drive down to Florida. Ugh. For those wondering: 18 straight hours in a car can sometimes feel like the equivalent of water-boarding. After the first 10 hours of the same road you feel like screaming, "I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST DON'T DO THIS TO ME ANYMORE!!"
Before heading onto I-95, that seemingly limitless road I just mentioned, we decided to hit Wawa for dinner. (For those that are not from the Northeast quadrant of the US [or Kissimee, Florida]: 1. Why are you reading MY blog? You haven't figured out that I suck, yet? 2. Wawa is a convenient store recognized as the second best convenient store in the country next to some place in Tulsa. You can get gas, customize your own sandwiches, soups, panninis, etc. for someone else to make, get drinks, get fruit, get odds-and-ends, get cash from an ATM for free, be merry, etc. In other words, if you've never been to one, get yourself to this side of the country/world/wherever you are and try this stuff. And for low prices! Yes, I know I sound like a spokesman--I'm not--but you'll understand my enthusiasm once you give it a try.) My dad and I entered. He made sure to get the coffee for my mother, and I made sure to get the sandwiches. When I went back to the coffee counter to assist my dad, I noticed a familiar face that popped out of their back room. It was Danny. No mistaking him. He looked/looks exactly the same as 12 years ago. I say to my dad, "Please tell me I'm not out of my mind, that's Danny, right?" My dad looks over, and we both walk over to semi-creepily ask, "Are...are you Danny?" He looks right at me and goes, "PAT?!?! No way!" We talk briefly about how everything is going. I was so shocked to see him that I practically and spontaneously contracted PTSD. (Yes, I know what PTSD is, and I know that the following symptom doesn't necessarily correlate. I was attempting a joke. Please don't hurt me.) My dad and I left the wawa to start our trek down to DW, and I DIDN'T REMEMBER TO GET HIS NUMBER! While my dad started the drive, I frantically texted Todd--after all these years, we remained really close, and a lot of that had to do with not...mysteriously...vanishing... Todd let me know that he planned to go to that specific Wawa, since Danny clearly worked there, to see if he could see Danny, but at the very least, nab his number.
About a week later, I had just returned back from a very relaxing and eventful Disney trip (minus the driving), and Todd texts me to let me know that we plan to all meet at a bar not far away to meet as a group for the first time in 12 years--he got Danny's number, I couldn't believe it. Once we arrived, and after calming down from the nostalgia, Danny let us know--long-story short--that his parents spontaneously divorced and moved away. Danny and Tommy were forced to live with their grandparents for the better part of the next 7 or so years until Danny was able to provide for himself and his brother. Tommy, who we didn't get to see that night, turned out to be a phenomenal basketball player--he was terrible when we were little--who received scholarship to play for Syracuse! Unfortunately, he suffered an injury that kept him from playing, but the story itself was both sad and incredible. They literally rose from the ashes and made great things out of themselves. Tommy lives up in New York, and Danny lives in Northeast Philly, and is ready to enter bootcamp for the Army in late December.
Do you remember your first love? Perhaps, first crush of some kind? Remember how you felt when they went away, broke up with you, or disappeared? Did you ever wonder what it would be like to see them again, talk to them again, etc? You probably talked a lot about them like they were gods/goddesses, or maybe you kept those great memories to yourself. Although it wasn't a romantic tie, Danny and Tommy were those memorable best friends that Todd and I were lucky enough to have in our lives growing up. I won't speak for Todd, but I talked about Danny and Tommy to hundreds of subsequent friends of mine like they were the first known Pegasuses ever to be seen with the human eye. To me, they were legends. In the little time they were around before their disappearance, they aided in forming me.
So, why have I said all of this? Well, it's simple. A lot of people take the past for granted. A lot of people assume that we should never go back to the past and to always stay in the present. But, the fact is, the PAST you IS the PRESENT you. There is no present "you" without the past "you." I'm not saying to harp on all the bad events that have potentially plagued you for the rest of your life, I mean LEARN from them. Remember them always. Never forget they happened, because the lessons that you learned from the past will ultimately aid in your decision making for the future. Though it was sad to see them go when I was younger, I never forgot these friends. I never forgot the lessons I learned from having these friends. I never forgot how strange the time was after their disappearance and the certain things I learned about myself. I know this doesn't sound like anything new or profound. It's not meant to be. I just think this is a good reminder that just like bad things, there's an equal chance of good or great things coming back into your life. LIVE for those potentials, and the potential of meeting other great people and experiencing other great moments. I say this because I think as we all get older, THOSE MOMENTS are what keep us going. Yeah, that girl, guy, ex-friend/ex-best friend, ex-fiance, etc. might have been COMPLETE assholes at the end of your time together, but ask yourself this question: would you really take those times you spent with them away? I know I told an ultimately happier story, and that this kind of emotional depth is probably not what you expected, but it's related and important.
No matter what a person did to me in my life--whether they benefited me or harmed me--I won't forget any of them. I can't. If I do, then I feel like I lose. A lot of people have come up to me regarding my negative past to say, "If you let them affect you, then they've won." Wrong. I 100% disagree. If I DIDN'T let them affect me, then I've lost. I also don't think we should just remember the good things. Good things are phenomenal, but they can aid in our ignorance. When we get cut, our bodies create a stronger fold of skin called a scar. Key word: stronger. When we get hurt emotionally, yeah, the pain might linger, but once you're healed, you'll be stronger than ever. Sometimes that strength changes us a bit, but that's life. We shouldn't fear change. If your friends stop being your friends because of the change, then chances are they weren't much of friends to begin with.
This post kind of ended in a long tangent, but for those that continued reading: Thanks! It may have made you a bit introspective. If you're not used to that, a good night's sleep will do. You'll forget all of this by morning. =P
- PatInTheHat
Danny and Tommy were whirlwinds. If any of you thought I was hyper-active, then with these two combined, in comparison, you could have practically created a tornado. Danny is two years older me, and at the time he towered over Tommy and my other childhood best friend Todd. Every single day, if we had the chance, we'd create some activity that involved half of the neighborhood. Whether it was football, soccer, wiffle ball/stick ball, basketball, hacky-sack, you name it, we did it.
Over the next couple years we all bonded and got really close. We even got into little nerdy games like Yu-Gi-Oh! One thing that impressed Todd and I the most about these two: their incredible ability to break dance. Tommy was only 9 years old, and Danny was between 12 and 13 years old, and these kids already looked like pros. I mean, I was 11ish so anything where anyone was performing acrobatics of any kind probably made my jaw drop in wonderment. Todd and I knew that they had really decent upper-body strength to do all of these fancy hand-stand style break dancing moves, so we had to ask them: How are you guys this strong already? Their answer: Karate.
Unbeknownst to us, Danny and Tommy's mother and father were both multi-degree black-belts. One of the awesome pieces of memorabilia that they showed us in their house subsequent to telling us these facts was a medal given to their father for performing 1,000 push-ups in a row. Once again, jaws were dropping everywhere. Todd and I knew that if we wanted to do what they did, and we DEFINITELY did, then we would have to start training. Who better to train us than some break dancing Korean kids, right? Exactly.
In a pretty short time, Todd and I could basically do everything Danny and Tommy could do. Not nearly as tight and impressive, but still, it took a lot for us to build up muscle strength we never had. Along the way, they also taught us what they knew about martial arts. Although they were never awarded belts, they were taught quite a lot from their parents, which was apparent by how disciplined they were. Sometimes we would spar. Danny would always win, as well he should. Sometimes, Todd or myself would beat/accidentally hurt Tommy, and then we had to run away from Danny--I've never run faster in my life, guaranteed.
Over the winter months, we still did the same sports activities. When it snowed, we stuck to football, sledding, and snow-ball fights. Unfortunately, we can't really do the latter two at any other point throughout the year, so that was definitely a little different. One day in January, Todd and I had a massive war-like snowball fight between Danny and Tommy. We were going at it for hours with strategy, snow forts, and slush buckets (for those unfamiliar with this term, it's when you fill a bucket with mostly water, and dip the snow in the water to give that extra explosion on connected throws). At some point it got too dark to continue; we called a "truce" and went inside expected to have more fun the next day.
That next day, I went over to Todd's. He lived right across the street from Danny and Tommy, and ever since we were even younger kids, we would make sure we were accounted for before doing anything with anyone else. Once he was ready, we went right over to knock for Danny and Tommy, but there was some strange things we noticed: their basketball net was gone, their cars were gone, and there was an eeriness as we went up to knock on their door. Even though we figured they weren't home, we knocked anyway. No one answered. We attempted the same thing for the next couple days until we noticed a new tenant was entering the house.
Danny and Tommy were gone.
( 12 years later; 2 months ago )
Well, it's about that time, again. Every other year my family takes a trek to Disney World, and this is that "other year," though, at 23 years old, it's likely my last. Although we just flew (some of us for the first time in a long time) for my brother's wedding down in the Virgin Islands, my mom and dad still wanted to drive down to Florida. Ugh. For those wondering: 18 straight hours in a car can sometimes feel like the equivalent of water-boarding. After the first 10 hours of the same road you feel like screaming, "I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST DON'T DO THIS TO ME ANYMORE!!"
Before heading onto I-95, that seemingly limitless road I just mentioned, we decided to hit Wawa for dinner. (For those that are not from the Northeast quadrant of the US [or Kissimee, Florida]: 1. Why are you reading MY blog? You haven't figured out that I suck, yet? 2. Wawa is a convenient store recognized as the second best convenient store in the country next to some place in Tulsa. You can get gas, customize your own sandwiches, soups, panninis, etc. for someone else to make, get drinks, get fruit, get odds-and-ends, get cash from an ATM for free, be merry, etc. In other words, if you've never been to one, get yourself to this side of the country/world/wherever you are and try this stuff. And for low prices! Yes, I know I sound like a spokesman--I'm not--but you'll understand my enthusiasm once you give it a try.) My dad and I entered. He made sure to get the coffee for my mother, and I made sure to get the sandwiches. When I went back to the coffee counter to assist my dad, I noticed a familiar face that popped out of their back room. It was Danny. No mistaking him. He looked/looks exactly the same as 12 years ago. I say to my dad, "Please tell me I'm not out of my mind, that's Danny, right?" My dad looks over, and we both walk over to semi-creepily ask, "Are...are you Danny?" He looks right at me and goes, "PAT?!?! No way!" We talk briefly about how everything is going. I was so shocked to see him that I practically and spontaneously contracted PTSD. (Yes, I know what PTSD is, and I know that the following symptom doesn't necessarily correlate. I was attempting a joke. Please don't hurt me.) My dad and I left the wawa to start our trek down to DW, and I DIDN'T REMEMBER TO GET HIS NUMBER! While my dad started the drive, I frantically texted Todd--after all these years, we remained really close, and a lot of that had to do with not...mysteriously...vanishing... Todd let me know that he planned to go to that specific Wawa, since Danny clearly worked there, to see if he could see Danny, but at the very least, nab his number.
About a week later, I had just returned back from a very relaxing and eventful Disney trip (minus the driving), and Todd texts me to let me know that we plan to all meet at a bar not far away to meet as a group for the first time in 12 years--he got Danny's number, I couldn't believe it. Once we arrived, and after calming down from the nostalgia, Danny let us know--long-story short--that his parents spontaneously divorced and moved away. Danny and Tommy were forced to live with their grandparents for the better part of the next 7 or so years until Danny was able to provide for himself and his brother. Tommy, who we didn't get to see that night, turned out to be a phenomenal basketball player--he was terrible when we were little--who received scholarship to play for Syracuse! Unfortunately, he suffered an injury that kept him from playing, but the story itself was both sad and incredible. They literally rose from the ashes and made great things out of themselves. Tommy lives up in New York, and Danny lives in Northeast Philly, and is ready to enter bootcamp for the Army in late December.
Do you remember your first love? Perhaps, first crush of some kind? Remember how you felt when they went away, broke up with you, or disappeared? Did you ever wonder what it would be like to see them again, talk to them again, etc? You probably talked a lot about them like they were gods/goddesses, or maybe you kept those great memories to yourself. Although it wasn't a romantic tie, Danny and Tommy were those memorable best friends that Todd and I were lucky enough to have in our lives growing up. I won't speak for Todd, but I talked about Danny and Tommy to hundreds of subsequent friends of mine like they were the first known Pegasuses ever to be seen with the human eye. To me, they were legends. In the little time they were around before their disappearance, they aided in forming me.
So, why have I said all of this? Well, it's simple. A lot of people take the past for granted. A lot of people assume that we should never go back to the past and to always stay in the present. But, the fact is, the PAST you IS the PRESENT you. There is no present "you" without the past "you." I'm not saying to harp on all the bad events that have potentially plagued you for the rest of your life, I mean LEARN from them. Remember them always. Never forget they happened, because the lessons that you learned from the past will ultimately aid in your decision making for the future. Though it was sad to see them go when I was younger, I never forgot these friends. I never forgot the lessons I learned from having these friends. I never forgot how strange the time was after their disappearance and the certain things I learned about myself. I know this doesn't sound like anything new or profound. It's not meant to be. I just think this is a good reminder that just like bad things, there's an equal chance of good or great things coming back into your life. LIVE for those potentials, and the potential of meeting other great people and experiencing other great moments. I say this because I think as we all get older, THOSE MOMENTS are what keep us going. Yeah, that girl, guy, ex-friend/ex-best friend, ex-fiance, etc. might have been COMPLETE assholes at the end of your time together, but ask yourself this question: would you really take those times you spent with them away? I know I told an ultimately happier story, and that this kind of emotional depth is probably not what you expected, but it's related and important.
No matter what a person did to me in my life--whether they benefited me or harmed me--I won't forget any of them. I can't. If I do, then I feel like I lose. A lot of people have come up to me regarding my negative past to say, "If you let them affect you, then they've won." Wrong. I 100% disagree. If I DIDN'T let them affect me, then I've lost. I also don't think we should just remember the good things. Good things are phenomenal, but they can aid in our ignorance. When we get cut, our bodies create a stronger fold of skin called a scar. Key word: stronger. When we get hurt emotionally, yeah, the pain might linger, but once you're healed, you'll be stronger than ever. Sometimes that strength changes us a bit, but that's life. We shouldn't fear change. If your friends stop being your friends because of the change, then chances are they weren't much of friends to begin with.
This post kind of ended in a long tangent, but for those that continued reading: Thanks! It may have made you a bit introspective. If you're not used to that, a good night's sleep will do. You'll forget all of this by morning. =P
- PatInTheHat
Friday, November 21, 2014
Immigrants Are People, Too
Like every time someone named "Mr. President" makes a decision--you'll notice Obama and Bush's speech on immigration is quite similar(link below)--I'm pretty flabbergasted by the reaction of the American people against the immigration policy that Obama is trying to pass. I know it might be tough for some of you to agree with, so I figured I'll go over some of the "problems" the American people are saying the policy causes, and then I'll explain why those people are absolutely out of their mind.
1. IMMIGRANTS TAKE OUR JOBS!
Those that make this argument: I love you. From the bat, you're already providing enough evidence to prove your incompetence; therefore, arguing with you is useless, because you're probably useless. See, the thing about this far-spread idea is that it doesn't hold anyone else accountable. For one, the immigrant taking your job is probably better than you at it. Ya know why? Because the immigrant doesn't like to take what this country offers for granted and works really hard. You, Mr. White-Privileged-Individual, probably thought to yourself: "Oh, no tan-skinned spick(I'm using this word for effect) would ever take my job!" So you'd slack off--enough so that your boss notices, then fires you. In this scenario, does the immigrant in question take your job or do you lose it?
For those that make the argument that immigrants are cheaper labor, I'm sick of that one, too. The main reason businesses take these guys in is because of their EFFICIENCY and WORK ETHIC. Being able to hire them for less is just a bonus for those businesses--trust me, those smart business owners crunch the numbers and realize what's most effective. Tangent: I'm not saying this is, in any way, a fair practice, but more often than not these immigrants are willing to work for anything, because anything they had before was worse. This is a BUSINESS decision made by people of all shapes, colors, and sizes. What do I mean by that? Say you work at a bank, we'll call it Bank, for $13/hour as a teller. Those at Bank think you're a fantastic hard worker, but you're kinda getting sick of your managers--it's time to move on. Another bank, we'll call them Fargo, has someone working as a teller for $17/hour, but Fargo is getting sick of how that worker is doing their job. One day, you apply to Fargo for a new teller position. Since they don't know you all that well, they offer you the job for $15/hour. For you, that's a $2/hr raise, and for Fargo that's a $2/hr decrease in wage expenses each month/quarter. You quit the Bank job and take the offer from Fargo. Fargo consequently fires the crappy teller. See how this works? That's what's happening with those terrible, nasty immigrants.
2. I can't BELIEVE so many immigrants will be allowed to live here ILLEGALLY!
Those that make this argument: I hate you. You are more incompetent than the previous group, in that you must have never taken a history course in your life or just chose not to pay attention, that you literally make this country's IQ lower--I'm talking about the US of A, of course. Stephen Colbert sarcastically said it best with his segment on immigration: "My father didn't come here from Ireland to see this country run by immigrants!" (I may not have quoted that perfectly, but it's a close-enough paraphrase.) Are you a Native American? If yes, you have every reason to be angry with every party around you. We took YOUR land. YOU should have been treated better. On behalf of the empathetic American people still left: We're sorry. If no and you've said something like #2, then you're an idiot. ALL of your ancestors came from across the seas. You think they all came LEGALLY!? Are you of Irish decent? You think everyone from the Potato Famine that floated across the Atlantic to be in the US was WELCOMED LEGALLY?! The answer is no. And I'm really sorry that you don't know the facts on this one, you're just wrong. Go read a history book. Hell, even talking to someone fluent in your family tree might suffice. In the words of many teenage girls around the country: SorryI'mNotSorry.
For those that know the aforementioned facts and still feel this way, what are you afraid of? If it's an increase in violence or burglaries, etc., then that is yet to be determined. There were tons of people doing that before there were ANY of these "immigrant issues." Stop kidding yourselves: We live in a violent world, and it sucks. How to quell that part of our world? My best guess: Love.
There have been other things said like "overpopulation" and thoughts of that nature, but I won't comment on that other than to say there's plenty of room here. Overpopulation is more of a global problem altogether, but there are states in the mid-west with miles of open/un-owned land. Plus, it's not that we don't have systems in place for allowing immigrants into our country, it's just that the system is flawed. There are people of MANY nationalities that are still waiting on Green cards and visas that were applied for YEARS ago. It's just that our bureaucratic government is so slow at making decisions that these people never get here. Oh, but if, ya know, some not-so-wealthy athlete comes over here from Mexico to make millions with a ball club our government is automatically right on it and makes sure that they AND their family find residency in America. In other words, if you're going to be rich and make others rich, you're fine. But if you're coming here to find opportunities without the guarantee that you'll be rich, THEN GET THE HELL OUT! If that's the case, I guess I shouldn't be here either since my wealth isn't guaranteed. Eff that, I'm staying--I'm a real badass, after all. Yeah, that obviously makes sense.
No wonder Obama is allowing this. Even the immigrants-to-be think the current US system is so flawed that they're just like, "I guess I'll just sneak in, then." Obama's address told us a couple things: 1. He wants children to be raised by their parents even if they're immigrants(legal or not) and 2. Our border patrol sucks and it needs to be better. He said we need more border patrol, but will give those immigrants who got in illegally a free pass. In other words: you found our weakness, so you get a gold star for helping us see that problem( a brief word on why it can be one in a moment). On top of that: We're going to fix the problem.
But, Pat. Now it sounds like you're straddling the fence. First, you say it's not a problem. Now, you're implying there is one!?! MAKE UP YOUR MIND!
The only reason this immigrant situation is a problem is because of ISIS. If ISIS gets in through weak border patrol, we could be fucked. THAT, ladies and gentleman, is a REAL problem. Less people seem to be concerned about that, though. We just like talking about remedial issues that nag us. Those people bore me. /rant
-PatInTheHat
http://cnn.it/14YoC2Z
1. IMMIGRANTS TAKE OUR JOBS!
Those that make this argument: I love you. From the bat, you're already providing enough evidence to prove your incompetence; therefore, arguing with you is useless, because you're probably useless. See, the thing about this far-spread idea is that it doesn't hold anyone else accountable. For one, the immigrant taking your job is probably better than you at it. Ya know why? Because the immigrant doesn't like to take what this country offers for granted and works really hard. You, Mr. White-Privileged-Individual, probably thought to yourself: "Oh, no tan-skinned spick(I'm using this word for effect) would ever take my job!" So you'd slack off--enough so that your boss notices, then fires you. In this scenario, does the immigrant in question take your job or do you lose it?
For those that make the argument that immigrants are cheaper labor, I'm sick of that one, too. The main reason businesses take these guys in is because of their EFFICIENCY and WORK ETHIC. Being able to hire them for less is just a bonus for those businesses--trust me, those smart business owners crunch the numbers and realize what's most effective. Tangent: I'm not saying this is, in any way, a fair practice, but more often than not these immigrants are willing to work for anything, because anything they had before was worse. This is a BUSINESS decision made by people of all shapes, colors, and sizes. What do I mean by that? Say you work at a bank, we'll call it Bank, for $13/hour as a teller. Those at Bank think you're a fantastic hard worker, but you're kinda getting sick of your managers--it's time to move on. Another bank, we'll call them Fargo, has someone working as a teller for $17/hour, but Fargo is getting sick of how that worker is doing their job. One day, you apply to Fargo for a new teller position. Since they don't know you all that well, they offer you the job for $15/hour. For you, that's a $2/hr raise, and for Fargo that's a $2/hr decrease in wage expenses each month/quarter. You quit the Bank job and take the offer from Fargo. Fargo consequently fires the crappy teller. See how this works? That's what's happening with those terrible, nasty immigrants.
2. I can't BELIEVE so many immigrants will be allowed to live here ILLEGALLY!
Those that make this argument: I hate you. You are more incompetent than the previous group, in that you must have never taken a history course in your life or just chose not to pay attention, that you literally make this country's IQ lower--I'm talking about the US of A, of course. Stephen Colbert sarcastically said it best with his segment on immigration: "My father didn't come here from Ireland to see this country run by immigrants!" (I may not have quoted that perfectly, but it's a close-enough paraphrase.) Are you a Native American? If yes, you have every reason to be angry with every party around you. We took YOUR land. YOU should have been treated better. On behalf of the empathetic American people still left: We're sorry. If no and you've said something like #2, then you're an idiot. ALL of your ancestors came from across the seas. You think they all came LEGALLY!? Are you of Irish decent? You think everyone from the Potato Famine that floated across the Atlantic to be in the US was WELCOMED LEGALLY?! The answer is no. And I'm really sorry that you don't know the facts on this one, you're just wrong. Go read a history book. Hell, even talking to someone fluent in your family tree might suffice. In the words of many teenage girls around the country: SorryI'mNotSorry.
For those that know the aforementioned facts and still feel this way, what are you afraid of? If it's an increase in violence or burglaries, etc., then that is yet to be determined. There were tons of people doing that before there were ANY of these "immigrant issues." Stop kidding yourselves: We live in a violent world, and it sucks. How to quell that part of our world? My best guess: Love.
There have been other things said like "overpopulation" and thoughts of that nature, but I won't comment on that other than to say there's plenty of room here. Overpopulation is more of a global problem altogether, but there are states in the mid-west with miles of open/un-owned land. Plus, it's not that we don't have systems in place for allowing immigrants into our country, it's just that the system is flawed. There are people of MANY nationalities that are still waiting on Green cards and visas that were applied for YEARS ago. It's just that our bureaucratic government is so slow at making decisions that these people never get here. Oh, but if, ya know, some not-so-wealthy athlete comes over here from Mexico to make millions with a ball club our government is automatically right on it and makes sure that they AND their family find residency in America. In other words, if you're going to be rich and make others rich, you're fine. But if you're coming here to find opportunities without the guarantee that you'll be rich, THEN GET THE HELL OUT! If that's the case, I guess I shouldn't be here either since my wealth isn't guaranteed. Eff that, I'm staying--I'm a real badass, after all. Yeah, that obviously makes sense.
No wonder Obama is allowing this. Even the immigrants-to-be think the current US system is so flawed that they're just like, "I guess I'll just sneak in, then." Obama's address told us a couple things: 1. He wants children to be raised by their parents even if they're immigrants(legal or not) and 2. Our border patrol sucks and it needs to be better. He said we need more border patrol, but will give those immigrants who got in illegally a free pass. In other words: you found our weakness, so you get a gold star for helping us see that problem( a brief word on why it can be one in a moment). On top of that: We're going to fix the problem.
But, Pat. Now it sounds like you're straddling the fence. First, you say it's not a problem. Now, you're implying there is one!?! MAKE UP YOUR MIND!
The only reason this immigrant situation is a problem is because of ISIS. If ISIS gets in through weak border patrol, we could be fucked. THAT, ladies and gentleman, is a REAL problem. Less people seem to be concerned about that, though. We just like talking about remedial issues that nag us. Those people bore me. /rant
-PatInTheHat
http://cnn.it/14YoC2Z
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Icy Pond (Greatest Medal)
When I was twelve years old, I played for a traveling ice hockey team out of Northeast Philadelphia. The team was called the Bristol Blazers, but we played out of the newly created Flyers Skate Zone--which only opened a short time before I started with the team.
Since I played in-house leagues prior to participating in this new travel league, I was pretty confident that I'd be a decent fit on the team. After all, I was automatically sanctioned to the team's B division, because I signed up after try-outs. Putting brand-new pads and skates on felt amazing. At this point, it was about a year since the last time I was on the ice, so my excitement, as every second ticked by before my first skate with the team, was a mini-adrenaline rush. The Zamboni from the previous skate finally comes off the ice, and it was time for us to go on.
Since I played in-house leagues prior to participating in this new travel league, I was pretty confident that I'd be a decent fit on the team. After all, I was automatically sanctioned to the team's B division, because I signed up after try-outs. Putting brand-new pads and skates on felt amazing. At this point, it was about a year since the last time I was on the ice, so my excitement, as every second ticked by before my first skate with the team, was a mini-adrenaline rush. The Zamboni from the previous skate finally comes off the ice, and it was time for us to go on.
I face plant. Luckily I had a helmet on or my first concussion probably would have happened in the first second on ice with the team. I was the worst. It was like I completely forgot how to skate in a year. I would have fit better on the non-existent D team.
I finally caught my bearings at some point and proceeded to do all of the drills with the team. Stopping was a nightmare. Especially with the left foot (pertaining to my hand-eye coordination, I'm left-brained). At the end of the practice, I saw my dad, who watched the disaster that was my skating ability unfold. Even though I sucked--and, man, did I suck--I loved hockey. So, my dad looked into other ways to strengthen my skating ability.
I skated, in some capacity, almost every day of the week. Practices with the team only happened twice a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays) with games on Saturday mornings. I went up to Grundy--where the Bristol Blazers used to play--and participated in super rigorous skating exercises with this Mr. Feany guy (Yes, Feheheheeeeanay). I would also participate in two-a-day practices on team practice days. The coach for the team's A Division was nice enough to let me practice with his team right after practicing with mine. I became good fast. Real fast. So fast that I was skating as well as the A team's best player, who went to the AA team the following year. The league started around October and ended in March, so it took me about 5 months to get to something-from-nothing.
I finally caught my bearings at some point and proceeded to do all of the drills with the team. Stopping was a nightmare. Especially with the left foot (pertaining to my hand-eye coordination, I'm left-brained). At the end of the practice, I saw my dad, who watched the disaster that was my skating ability unfold. Even though I sucked--and, man, did I suck--I loved hockey. So, my dad looked into other ways to strengthen my skating ability.
I skated, in some capacity, almost every day of the week. Practices with the team only happened twice a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays) with games on Saturday mornings. I went up to Grundy--where the Bristol Blazers used to play--and participated in super rigorous skating exercises with this Mr. Feany guy (Yes, Feheheheeeeanay). I would also participate in two-a-day practices on team practice days. The coach for the team's A Division was nice enough to let me practice with his team right after practicing with mine. I became good fast. Real fast. So fast that I was skating as well as the A team's best player, who went to the AA team the following year. The league started around October and ended in March, so it took me about 5 months to get to something-from-nothing.
In March, the team went to Lake Placid to participate in an East Coast inclusive tournament. Somehow, I was one of the top goal-scorers on my team for the tourny. To get into the elimination bracket of the tournament, we had to play, beat, or tie the best team in the league. We won 6-4. I had two goals and two assists for the game. By far the best I played all season. Apparently, I was very vocal about how terrible I was earlier in the season. One of our team mom's of noticeably one of the better players/goal scorers on the team came up to me after the game and said, "You do not!!"
"What?"
"You do not suck! Don't you ever say you suck again! That was amazing!"
"What?"
"You do not suck! Don't you ever say you suck again! That was amazing!"
Needless to say, I was on cloud 9. We still had some tough games ahead of us, but in that moment, I knew that we could win this thing and that maybe, just maybe, I could actually help.
We got to the championship game, but lost in triple overtime. Everyone on the bench was devastated, but for some reason, I was not. We played our absolute best and got so close. It was still an amazing experience to play on the 1980 Miracle on Ice rink. I'll never forget it. We received silver medals that day, and the rest of the team made sure to sport them as we left our hotels to head back home to Philadelphia--we all joked about how we were wearing "bling" and that we were going to walk back into town like we're big shit. We were so cute.
A week back in Philly and everything felt back to normal again. Going to school. Doing homework. The usual boring stuff twelve year old kids do. I believe it was a Tuesday, and I just got home from school. My dad said I had received a letter from my coach. (As an aside: I didn't talk about my coach much in the story up to this point, but he was an incredibly nice guy and he really helped with my game development. He saw, and heard about from the A coach, my work ethic come to fruition first-hand.) The letter was a hand-written two-page script of encouragement. He told me that I could be the best hockey player out of anyone on the team if I kept my work ethic going out of anyone else. Up to that point, I never cried from happiness, but in that moment I did. Though it wasn't a medal at all, it was to me--the greatest one I've ever received.
A couple years later (4 to be exact) I stopped playing hockey. It was far too expensive for my family. Though I was unable to pursue ice hockey any longer, that letter from my coach is a constant reminder to me that I can do anything I put my mind to. He made sure to let me know that my work ethic greatly impacted the rest of the team, and that if I kept that mentality through life, then the sky is the limit. Lesson learned.
For those reading this, know that you CAN do anything you put your mind to. Get fired? Get knocked down? Get back up! Afraid to try something new in fear of being terrible? Don't be! Remember this story of a kid who practically crawled onto the ice the first time he was on an ice hockey team, but worked hard to achieve near greatness. You are your greatest asset so long as you believe it. Yes, it'll be hard, and it'll take time, but who cares? The greatest things in life to have take time and hard work. Whether it's a career, a relationship/friendship, a sport, they all take hard work. Please, do yourself this favor: Never give up. don't do it. Especially if it's something or someone you love. Don't give up.
- PatInTheHat
For those reading this, know that you CAN do anything you put your mind to. Get fired? Get knocked down? Get back up! Afraid to try something new in fear of being terrible? Don't be! Remember this story of a kid who practically crawled onto the ice the first time he was on an ice hockey team, but worked hard to achieve near greatness. You are your greatest asset so long as you believe it. Yes, it'll be hard, and it'll take time, but who cares? The greatest things in life to have take time and hard work. Whether it's a career, a relationship/friendship, a sport, they all take hard work. Please, do yourself this favor: Never give up. don't do it. Especially if it's something or someone you love. Don't give up.
- PatInTheHat
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
The Beginning of...
So, I decided to start a blog. Yippy.
When I was younger, I had this thing called a Xanga, where emo(in this context meaning depressingly sad) little girls and boys like myself decided to be annoyingly, and over emotionally, expressive. I was one of those annoying, attention seeking children. It was a dark time.
This blog will not resemble that lifestyle in the least. It will instead focus on two things:
1. Events in my life that have impacted me positively or negatively. This will be the part of the blog, likely on an every-other-post basis, where readers, if there are any *shrugs,* will learn about me and how/why I tick/tick the way I do. Lucky you, right? This past year has been an emotional roller coaster of sorts in my life. I've practically shunned most of my friends for the better part of the year while swerving in and out of dates. So, maybe, at the very least, I can enlighten the reading public on why my sanity turned seemingly to insanity and why it has been a bit of struggle to recapture that sanity in one form or another.
2. This part of the blog will likely be more fun for readers--this will be the ranting portion. For those that know me, EYE am highly opinionated--and that might be the understatement of the century. However, my opinions are STRICTLY based on facts that I read and learn about. Sometimes, and I have firmly admitted this on multiple occasions, facts that I thought were right were wrong. In this vast informational world we live in, facts can be skewed. Figuring out what is right and what is wrong is part of the struggle. We all take part in that struggle. With that said, I am very open minded. I'm like a scientist in that I siphon out "facts" that I feel like are worth mentioning. If those "facts" are proven wrong, I admit my faults, and continue on. I LOVE learning. I have this inner passion to constantly obtain KNOWLEDGE. So, if any of my rants lack the correct facts, I'd very much appreciate people keeping me honest. Just try not to berate my potential ignorance =). This section won't always be about really important things. Sometimes they'll probably be a little silly--a curiosity blog of sorts. And other times I'll get a little serious and rattle some minds (maybe). Also, bonus points if you acknowledged the hidden message of this paragraph.
This blog's setting will be open to the public, but I will only post a hyperlink to this blog through social media once per week. I'll likely write something every day, though, or at least as close to every day as possible as I see fit. So, happy readings! And thanks for flying PatInTheHat Express!
When I was younger, I had this thing called a Xanga, where emo(in this context meaning depressingly sad) little girls and boys like myself decided to be annoyingly, and over emotionally, expressive. I was one of those annoying, attention seeking children. It was a dark time.
This blog will not resemble that lifestyle in the least. It will instead focus on two things:
1. Events in my life that have impacted me positively or negatively. This will be the part of the blog, likely on an every-other-post basis, where readers, if there are any *shrugs,* will learn about me and how/why I tick/tick the way I do. Lucky you, right? This past year has been an emotional roller coaster of sorts in my life. I've practically shunned most of my friends for the better part of the year while swerving in and out of dates. So, maybe, at the very least, I can enlighten the reading public on why my sanity turned seemingly to insanity and why it has been a bit of struggle to recapture that sanity in one form or another.
2. This part of the blog will likely be more fun for readers--this will be the ranting portion. For those that know me, EYE am highly opinionated--and that might be the understatement of the century. However, my opinions are STRICTLY based on facts that I read and learn about. Sometimes, and I have firmly admitted this on multiple occasions, facts that I thought were right were wrong. In this vast informational world we live in, facts can be skewed. Figuring out what is right and what is wrong is part of the struggle. We all take part in that struggle. With that said, I am very open minded. I'm like a scientist in that I siphon out "facts" that I feel like are worth mentioning. If those "facts" are proven wrong, I admit my faults, and continue on. I LOVE learning. I have this inner passion to constantly obtain KNOWLEDGE. So, if any of my rants lack the correct facts, I'd very much appreciate people keeping me honest. Just try not to berate my potential ignorance =). This section won't always be about really important things. Sometimes they'll probably be a little silly--a curiosity blog of sorts. And other times I'll get a little serious and rattle some minds (maybe). Also, bonus points if you acknowledged the hidden message of this paragraph.
This blog's setting will be open to the public, but I will only post a hyperlink to this blog through social media once per week. I'll likely write something every day, though, or at least as close to every day as possible as I see fit. So, happy readings! And thanks for flying PatInTheHat Express!
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