Some More Organized Stream of Consciousness

I've been told to avoid cliches in writing, but screw it. Life is a roller coaster. I've been coming to believe this completely. Some days are bad, others are awful, and a handful are incredible. Sure, whenever people say their life sucks and everything else sucks they're just exaggerating. In almost all cases, their life just "sucks" at the moment. I personally believe it is human nature for people to have a pessimistic view on EVERYTHING, especially on things pertaining to themselves. Then again, this pessimism could be a result of social environmental influence. Did I just invent my own phrase? Sick. A little awkward on the wording, but sick nonetheless. Anyway, lately my life has "sucked" and I've been complaining a lot. These past few weekends have been complete failures in my eyes, as opposed to weekends in the past. Sure, I still do things I love doing. Every Saturday morning, I join my dad and his friends in a two hour game of basketball followed by lunch at Burger King. Every Sunday morning, I join the same group of people at breakfast at Ben & Irv's. This has become so routine to me, that sometimes I find myself missing the incredible memories I'm making. How many kids have the relationship I have with not just my father, but with his friends as well? As they say, I'm "one of the gang". They treat me as one of them, and teach me valuable life lessons in the process. Anyway, lately these two events have been the only thing I've done on my weekends. It bothers me so much to sit in and not do anything, thus leading to me complaining and forgetting about the great time I have with the "gang". This is when the roller coaster comes into play. This weekend was probably one of the top ten weekends of my life, and coincidentally followed a string of the worst weekends in my eyes. Why was it so great? I started it off Friday at a Sweet Sixteen, one of the best I've gone to. It's a great feeling to be out dancing and not having a care in the world with all of your friends. Then, Saturday, I played basketball with my dad just as I always do. Two of my friends from Morrell were supposed to come over later that night after a basketball game. The game went longer than expected, to a point where I didn't think it would be worth their time coming over. My friend insisted it was okay, so after the game he came over. My other friend couldn't come up for some reason. So now it's about nine-thirty, and it's honestly a boring night. We decided to play Xbox and just talk since we hadn't seen each other in so long, until I got a phone call from a friend from Lower Moreland inviting me over. Me and my friend went and hung out with a handful of people at a bonfire until late into the night, and for whatever reason it was just the best night ever. Everyone was in such a great mood, and I was honestly happy I got to introduce my friend from Morrell to some of my friends in LM. Even though I missed breakfast Sunday morning because I slept in, it was still the best weekend I'd had in the longest time.

I used the following as an opener to a story I'm writing outside of our creative writing class. I just want to know what everyone thinks of it. The story is titled "Deserted" and I think it has the potential to be one of my better stories. I haven't written it in a few weeks since I've been so busy, but with Thanksgiving break coming up, hopefully I'll have time to finish it. Anyway, feel free to critique and offer suggestions! Enjoy...           

 I walked down an empty alleyway. On either side of me was a plain, brick wall glowing yellow from the dim lights above. My feet walked on a typical sidewalk, littered with street trash and dried gum. I soon found myself surrounded by familiar faces. On either side of me, the brick walls suddenly had portraits of seemingly everyone I knew. As I continued on, I saw snapshots of me with these people, a captured memory, and I noticed they were all different sizes. The bigger the photos were, the more I remembered about them. The smaller ones I remembered as well, but the memories were not as clear. I walked for what felt like hours and hours in the alley that now seemed never ending. But it did end, because eventually I reached a plain brick wall much like the ones surrounding it, only it had a lone door in the middle. On it, a neon “Open” sign blinked steadily below a window. I pressed my face in the window in an attempt to look in, but all I saw was white. I reached for the knob and turned it, only to find it was locked. I sighed and turned around, only to shake my head in disbelief. The alley I had just walked down was gone; I was surrounded by three walls. A claustrophobic feeling washed over me as I turned to bang on the door, but as I did, I came to realize the door was gone as well…

My Writing

I find myself writing a lot more lately, so I think it would be fitting to do a blog post where I give my opinion on my own writing. I like to write about my problems, but I take them to the complete extreme. I use it as a venting source I guess, where I can complain about my problems without actually talking to anyone, where I can say what I want to say but don't have the guts to actually admit. I feel like that's when I write the best, so in a sense when my life absolutely sucks the most, I have the most potential. I like writing in first person because I try to connect the reader as best as I can to the character and because I make it easier to relate myself to the character. I don't like naming anyone and I try to avoid it as much as possible. My point of view is that the character's names aren't as important as the message I'm trying to make clear, plus I don't like using the names of people I know and I can't think of too many more names. I like making everyone die in the end; happy endings piss me off. In life, most endings aren't happy, so I think that's how it should be in literature. More people need to know and understand that sometimes sad things happen that are out of your control. The only happy ending I wrote was a part of a dual ending, where I gave the reader the option of which ending they want. I didn't want to do it, and the only reason I did is because I didn't want people who read it to think I was suicidal. I made the main character move to a new neighborhood and not like it, just as I had, but he eventually kills himself. I want that to be the ending everyone gets, but I split the endings to keep my family and friends at ease. I'm definitely my biggest critic and I'm a perfectionist when I write. I hate first drafts, so I always try to perfect it while I write and I'm always telling myself it's not good enough. Whenever people read my stories they tell me they like them and I always feel like they do it out of courtesy. I can never tell if they truly mean it or not, and that bothers me. I'd rather be told by someone the truth, whether that be negative or not.

Football Career

The song in my previous post really inspires me. Vado talks about his struggles and why he raps, and it very much reminds me of my past with football. I started playing in 6th grade for Our Lady of Calvary, a CYO team from Philly. My school was too small to have their own team, so anyone who wanted to play went to Calvary. I liked it a lot at first, and I sat the bench just as any 6th grader would. I worked hard at every practice to become a better player just like everyone else. In seventh grade I hoped to get some time, and even though I didn't I wasn't too upset. The kid that played ahead of me is now being looked at by a few top Division 1 schools. So I did just what I did in 6th grade: I sat back and watched and continued to piece together the game of football. Finally, 8th grade came. It's my time to shine, or so I thought. Little did I know, this was going to be the worst year of football I've ever had to go through. They placed a 7th grader ahead of me, regardless of how bad I'd kick his ass at practice. The coach simply didn't like me, and even worse he told me I'd never be anything involving football. This killed any pride I had and made me wish I'd never played. My dad kept telling me, "Just stick with it. Everything will work out in the end." I didn't believe him at the time. I was too pissed off at being benched for a younger kid that I was clearly better than. However, me and my shattered pride continued to work hard every day at practice and I even did some extra work with my dad on the side.
This brings me to just about present day. Freshman year I played for the high school and sat behind what was our best offensive line in years. Not only were we talented, but 4 out of our 5 linemen were over 6 feet tall. I stood short next to these guys at just a solid 5'6", so I did what I've done for the previous three years: I filled the waters. The only difference now is I got to play JV. I started Center for the JV offensive line and did a hell of a job. In fact, I impressed the coaches enough that I created myself a starting spot my sophomore year, starting over a few juniors and seniors. I did it, I'd finally made it to where I wanted to be. My fun didn't stop there, for we went on to win our third straight league title. It was my best and most memorable year of football yet. Now I'm in my junior year, and I'd do anything to have it back. Not only are we struggling as a team, but I myself am struggling as an individual player. I feel as though I'm not playing as well as I did last year. Maybe it's because of our lack of success and it's giving me a lack of confidence, maybe it's simply just me not playing to my potential. Who knows? I just wish I could go back to that feeling of greatness, where everything was perfect. I mean hey, there's always next year, right?
I've decided I want to play college ball. Everyone tells me how insane it is, and that it's like a job. Everyone tells me it takes the fun out of football, and that it sucks because you start from scratch. I feel as though that's where I'll have an advantage. I've been through it all before, and I love this sport so much I'd be willing to go through it all over again a million times more. In the end, it's all worth it. There's no better feeling than the feeling of being successful in the sport of football.

Always On by Vado

This is one of my favorite songs, and it is very inspiring. I'm posting this simply because I am tired of searching for the correct lyrics online, and the people that write them must be deaf. I think for my next post I will describe the song and its importance to me, but I'm not sure yet.

They said I couldn't make it
Been down so long I couldn't take it
Go hard, be strong, but be patient
Say a prayer before you eat, and be gracious
Heart beat and sweat drippin
Eff quittin
Whole squad needs him,
Let's get it
No job, Ma seems upset with it
Mortgage backed up, and she needs some help with it
Dark nights, park lights,
24 hour practice how I got nice
Lights, camera, action in the spotlight
Never get burned
Now it's your turn?
I got right
As the crowd stands and claps for him
On his way to the bench, team did that to him
Hugs and chest bumps how they react to him
How they react to him

[Chorus]
I'm always on
Steady mind always strong
Even when I'm always wrong,
I'm always on
Go hard you'll be always home,
Work hard you'll be always known,
I'm always on
Clap for him, everybody clap for him
(Everybody clap it up!)
I'm always on
Clap for him, everybody clap for him
(Clap it up)

Uh-huh
They said I ain't ready
Wanted more, never the less, I ain't petty
One award, never get rest, I aim steady
Reachin my goals to the whole, I came heavy
Peer pressure, bust pipes,
Feared never, trust life
Whenever, wherever, make sure you come ripe
Bring your A-game in whatever sport, so one might
Can't take it, I'm tired
On my way to work, don't make it, I'm fired
Hard work will bring you things you desire
Fightin tired, jump high, I got higher
As the crowd stands and claps for him
On his way to the bench, team did that to him
Hugs and chest bumps how they react to him

[Chorus]

I ain't afraid to live it up
Long as I stand a man, I gotta get it up
Show love to my fans, damn, I did it Ma
Blood, sweat and tears I gave it all I could give it Ma
Yeah, they can try attackin me
Impossible with the whole team in the back of me
It's optional, you can dream or make it happen
Be Work Hard Academy til' I'm gone

[Chorus]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxjsoK4zJd8

My Great Change

I’ve come to learn change is inevitable in life. As much as you may try to avoid it, it still happens. I learned it two years ago, after I moved to Lower Moreland. I didn’t want to go; I wanted to stay where all my friends were. Sure the idea of moving was exciting, but Morrell was the only place I’d come to know, and I loved it there (still do to this day). Anyway, I went without so much as a complaint since I wouldn’t be going to school with my friends anyway.  I was soon overwhelmed with all kinds of new names and faces (I’m bad with names in the first place, having a few hundred thrown at me was quite uncomfortable), and even worse, homework. I’d never worked to keep my grades up so hard in my life. I’d always gone through school without even considering cracking a book. They were the first changes I encountered, definitely more physical: environment and study habits. The next change hit home the hardest, and took me a while to adjust. Actually, sometimes I still find myself adjusting.

I started to adjust to the ways of the kids at Lower Moreland, I don’t really know how to explain it other than that. Who would have ever thought a place ten minutes from home could be so different? One thing that really stuck out to me is the way everyone talked. Words are pronounced so different and the vernacular words were on two completely different levels. My biggest fear was and still is losing my “Philly Accent” as I like to call it. It’s most definitely grammatically incorrect, but it’s my little piece of home I can bring with me wherever I go. I wanted to avoid that change at all costs.

To my dismay, when I went back to Morrell to spend a night a few months later, EVERYONE sounded different; yet even worse, they said I did. My worst fear had come true, my accent was gone. But as the night went on, I realized the accents were the worst of my troubles. Everyone was different. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I just felt like it wasn’t home anymore. Everyone was completely different from how I remembered.

It’s funny how things change in a matter of just a few months. Lucky for me, I have my accent back for the most part, but it still bothers me to no end how different everyone is each time I see them. And to be honest, I miss the old everyone. But it’s cool, change is part of life, and how we adjust to this change determines the kind of person we are.

This week, I've decided to do an "organized stream of consciousness" type of writing. Enjoy:

I find it interesting the way emotions work. One minute you can be angry, and soon enough you can find yourself in your own happy place, unique to you and you only, somewhere far, far away. What I want to know is what takes you there? How can you go from being in the angriest mood one second and suddenly the next, BAM, you’re relaxed? I can make myself very angry for a certain event, but that’s when I find it hard to hold onto my anger. I feel like that’s when we drift more easily into a more calm and relaxed mood. Likewise, the more I try to be happy and calm the angrier and irked I get at even the smallest agitations.

Something else I find interesting is music. It moves you. Literally? Maybe, but most definitely emotionally. Listen to a soft love song and follow it up with a fiery rock song. Your mind shifts with the sounds of the melodies, changing from a completely relaxed mindset to one that seems to scream, “Get away from me before I kill you.” Follow that up with one of those techno European hits and you will surely find yourself dancing the night away, without a care in the world.

I’ve kind of come to the conclusion that you subconsciously choose a song to fit your mood of specifically that time. Ever say to yourself as a new song comes on, “I’m not really in the mood for this”? Sure you have, just as everyone else has. Have you ever asked yourself why? I believe the answer’s simple. Somebody who’s getting ready to compete in a sporting event isn’t going to find themselves listening to Luther Vandros. Likewise, you most definitely will not walk into a nursing home and find the elderly rocking out to Disturbed, besides someone’s totally awesome grandpop who wears his hair in a mohawk.

When I write, I enjoy listening to Linkin Park specifically. My writings are a bit on the depressing side most times, and their music happens to fit that style perfectly. Not necessarily their beats and instrumentals, but mostly their lyrics. If they aren’t able to get the job done, Drake normally does the trick. And by Drake I mean the album Drake, not the Drake you hear on the radio talking about money, cars, and clothes like the rest of the rapper wanna-be’s. The Drake I like to listen to raps about the tough times in life involving emotions and relationships. Corny, I know, but hey it’s my opinion.