What am I doing?

Did I really think I could do well without dedicating the 15hrs/week required to succeed? No, I was almost certain I would be terrible, and I didn't want to do it. What I wanted was to be part of the team. That's what I missed. Long nights on the diving bus, three-hour practices full of arguing and horseplay, swimmer breakfasts, the "good jobs" after a meet. That's what I missed. That's what I wanted. Diving is fun, it's athletic, it keeps me entertained and busy, but I'm not in love with the sport. I liked it. I was good at it. It was easy. It was fun.

Tonight was proof: I'm not a part of the team. And if I'm not a member of the team, I don't want to dive. The team is happy with Korey; he's their star diver. I'm not jealous of Korey. I was Korey. Now I'm not. I just don't fit. And I'm no good. So why am I putting myself through the morning practices, three-hour meets, and the rushing to work from diving everyday?

Also, my parents are not supportive of diving. They act as though they are. They ask how it's going, sometimes. But my mom has been to one and a half dive meets since I began freshman year. My dad has been to three. Tonight my dad called home tonight from Mexico to get some flight information. He asked me how my brother's wrestling meet went. He didn't even know I had a meet. Wrestling. Three minutes of man-on-man groping is not a sport. Yet my mom has been to two of my brother's meets this season, already. My dad never misses a match and even skipped my first diving meet after a year-long hiatus to go see Nick wrestle.

And I am sitting here wasting my time writing a stupid blog post when I have three history assignments due tomorrow, an article to write, and math homework to get do. I don't think I'll have time to sleep. I work up at 4:45 a.m. and dove until 7 a.m. then had school. After school I dove from 3:15 p.m. til 6:00 p.m. and then a half-hour ab routine. I'm exhausted. I can't possibly get this all done. I can't get most of it done. I might get some of it done. I have to be up for morning practice tomorrow at 4:45 a.m.

On the bright side, Mr. Krause called on me today. The first time all year. That is not an exaggeration. I was shocked. I wonder if he knows that his dislike for me is so transparent.

Okay, life's worth living again

I might have overreacted to the Jlab140 situation. I'm still not sure why we had to change, but the changes aren't as drastic as I originally thought. I'm not saying Judson won me over with his JigglyPuff like coaxing skills, but I'm not as fuming mad as I was before. I'm still unchanged in many sentiments. But, I'll live.

And my new car (1990 Honda Prelude Si) will be legal to drive tomorrow evening. So, things are looking up. And, despite the addition of diving to my agenda, I don't have as much stress nor work as I did a few weeks ago.

A list

Things I love:
1. The experiences and memories I have from Peru.
2. My new friends that were found by loosing old ones.
3. Being the guy who brings in donuts.
4. English classes
5. Thanksgiving with my family.
6. Watching TV shows online from the convenient location of my bed.
7. The magic combination of popcorn and movies.
8. Waking up with Mr. Hurst's AP Spanish class.
9. Twitter
10. The twists life throws at you.
11. The fellowship amongst swim team members.
12. Not having to shower in the mornings after a diving practice.
13. Grey's Anatomy
14. The fact Judson's wife calls him a jackass.

Demoted

Reasons I'm upset:
1)I don't feel like Business Manager requires any skill or talent.
2)I feel like I haven't progressed any since my sophomore year, because I have the same job.
3)Business Manager doesn't actually have any journalistic ties; it's completely business related.
4)I felt like the editorial board was doing as well as any editor in chief we've had in the past.
5)I put a lot of thought and time into issue four, only to have it taken away by surprise.
6)I felt like I did well on the second issue, but my job doesn't reflect that.
7)The implemented solution directly disregarded my concerns and suggestions.
8)I don't enjoy doing ads, in fact, I only agreed to do it in August because I didn't want to cause a row over it.
9)It is not a leadership position. I wanted to step up and be a unifier, a leader, but that is not what a Business Manager does. They are independent and autonomous.
10)I've been demoted. We went from being equals to a arbitrary hierarchy.

Possible Reactions:
1.Switch to a different class (maybe Creative Writing).
2.Stick to my original three-trimester plan; grin and bear it.
3.Stay in the class for this trimester and then find something else.
4.Take advantage of the lessened responsibility.
5.Purge any emotional attachment to the publication and realize it's just a class.


I realize Spencer probably has put in more work than the rest. And, if we have to have an editor in chief, he's a good candidate. I also feel like everybody else is relatively content with their positions. Sure, they still resent the idea of going back to the hierarchy, but generally like their jobs ( I think). Alix is still doing what she was doing. Anna said she was happy being a copy editor. Kelly talked about how she doesn't know where she fits in, but she's second in command and will find her place. I, however, am not even remotely happy with Business Manager. I do it because it has to be done. I do it because I have experience doing it. I do it because Judson placed me there. But I hate it. It is a series of paperwork and phone calls and rejections and not being able to get enough money to satisfy the staff's wants for a publication. It's all behind the scenes work that is under-appreciated, monotonous, and has nothing to do with journalism. I don't edit stories, I don't give advice on stories, I don't place stories, I don't write stories, I don't assign stories, I don't suggest stories—I make a phone call, fill out a piece of paper, and save a file in the correct folder. It's a job a sophomore could do—and I did.
On the first day of class, I said I signed up because I wanted to put out a quality publication. Even if I sell one thousand dollars in ads, it has no bearing on the quality of the publication. It has no bearing because I am not an editor. An editor has the power to make a publication good or bad. A Business Manager is just a salesman. So, with all due respect, forgive me if I am not happy with this decision. And I realize some will read this and think I am being ridiculous, that's fine. I don't expect people to understand where I am coming from. And they can say I am overreacting, jealous, or too sensitive, that's fine too. I am being candid; take it however you'd like.


I hope this doesn't result on a one one with Mr. Judson.

The past two weeks, the future, and a little bit of the present

I've wanted to update this blog several times since my last post, but I haven't had a minute's rest. Tomorrow is the first day of a new era. The final paper in English nearly killed me, but I was able to turn a half-assed, completed copy by the due date. It required days of work and some sleepless nights, but I got it done. And in addition to that, I had a few other projects and homework to get done. When I finished with that, I thought I was in the clear. I wasn't. Diving started and I lost my energy completely and totally by the time finals week rolled around. I was waking up at 5, going to diving, then school, then diving until 4:45, then work until 9 p.m., getting home and trying to get an hour's worth of homework in before completely falling collapsing. I even went 40 hours without sleep. Well, as is expected in such conditions, I got sick. So: I'm sick, I'm busy, it's finals week and--oh, the final issue of the magazine is dragging behind schedule. It was stressful. It was exhausting. It was bitter. It was hell. But, I survived. And thanks to the generosity of an English teacher, I'm not going to fail any classes. In fact, by my rough estimations, I'll come out of this semester with a 3.5 GPA.

Now, it's over. This next trimester is Magazine, AP Spanish, AP US History, Algebra II (I have to have some weakness), and Economics. It sounds so easy. It won't be; I still have diving and work, but it'll be better. I hope it will be better--if it's not better, I will quit diving. It's not fair to my coach and teammates who've been so lenient with my schedule and understanding, but it's no good if I die from the stress. So that's still in the air. Hopefully, it'll be better.

For now, I just got off of work after a 7 hour shift, which followed a 7 a.m. diving practice followed by a swim meet that I timed laps for. So, I'm tired--I'm tired and I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I will finish my homework, go shopping with Mom, and have a nice dinner with Dad and his friends.

Speaking of Dad, he told me today his company wants him to move to El Paso. He said he's refused to move twice, but if they offer to double his salary (the first offers being 125% and 150% of his income) he is going to do it. I thought he was telling me he was going to leave Elkhart and I'd have to move in with Mom and only see him on holidays, but he wasn't. He said if he moved he would buy another house there but keep this one. And he would come back once every month. It's still scary, being alone for an entire month. My only company would be the internet and cable. But if that's what he wants, I guess that's good. And maybe I could go with him to Mexico some time. And he would be making enough to thoroughly compensate for his absence through bribery (that was humor, laugh).


So there's that.

Bed time.

Nighty Night.

An altnerate reality

I saw the school play tonight. It was good, but it was hard to watch without feeling like I should have been in it. I thought, "I could have made room for that; I wasn't that busy." Then I realized how stupid a thought that was. There was no way I could have made it to practices, done my homework, put in my work hours, slept, and stayed sane. That's when I started thinking about my life.
I have always thought that people choose their lives. We make the decisions that put us in our places. And if you don't like your current situation, you can change it. I still believe this, to some extent. But I now understand why people don't choose to change their lives.
It's a difficult thing to do. You feel trapped in your ways. You have to pay the bills, you're not good enough, you can't let others down--whatever the reason, you don't just change their lives on a whim. Why are we such creatures of habit? Why is it so hard to change?
I wish I could have done fall play. I wish I could go to the debate meet Saturday. I wish I could take a nap after school. I wish I could commit to diving. I wish I could volunteer at the hospital. I wish I could do the musical. But I can't. I could blame this all on my job. It prevents me from doing extracurriculars. It takes up my homework time. And I don't enjoy it. If I'm blaming my job, I might as well blame my classes. I weren't taking so many AP classes maybe I could do those activities. However, after this trimester ends, I could do those activities if I didn't work.
But I need my car. That means I need gas and insurance. And I have to pay for my trip to Spain. That's $25 a week for gas, $90 a month for insurance, and $96 a week for the Spanish trip. Life would be more enjoyable if I didn't have to pay for all of that. My parents don't pay for my insurance and gas; the only things they do pay for are the food in the fridge and my cell phone. Does this make me more responsible, independent, or appreciative? I don't know, but it does make me work.
So, my parents' unwillingness to pay for my expenses requires I work for my money, but it's my decision to have a car, drive around, and go on expensive trips. Unfortunately, I can't make my life any better, because I still want all of those things.


Today's Confession: I have four lipstick marks on my hands. Only 3 came from girls.

Just keep swimming

The end is near. I'm not talking about the apocalypse; I'm talking about the end of this trimester. It's only two weeks away. I have so much to do before then, but it'll be here soon. I will cease to be the four-AP/two-AP-English-classes kid. Life will go back to the way I remember high school: generally easy classes, diving practices, work, and the JLab. It'll be sad.

I've learned to be content with most of this. Sure, there are still those days where I come home and want to cry, but most days are filled with moments of content. I enjoy Judson's English class. I enjoy Mrs. Greene's English class. I enjoy Newspaper. English has been the bulk of my day for 10 weeks. And now that's about to disappear. I really do wish we had a writers' club at Concord. That might help me with the English withdrawal.

I might a big decision tonight; I decided to dive. It may have been the realization that life would be somewhat peaceful next trimester that scared me into adding things to my plate. I still have to work 15-20 hours a week. And I still have newspaper, AP Spanish, AP US History, Algebra II, and Econ to worry about. And yet, I called my coach and told him I would be at practice next week.

Diving is something I enjoyed. I didn't always love the sport, but I always loved the team. To be honest, I am nervous about getting back on the board after such a long hiatus, but my teammates have been asking all year if I would be coming back. While I don't like the commitment required by the sport, that team feeling is nice. And, my mother has been telling me since the year began that she wants me to be having fun my senior year. I don't buy into the whole "Senior year" gimmick, but I'll dive anyway. If it's too unbearable, time-consuming, or simply too much, I will quit. I have no qualms with that. People label quitters as terrible people, but I'm starting to realize the reasons people quit before are quite legitimate.

So, I won't be getting my easy second trimester. And I won't be free or available for the winter, but at least I won't be bored, out-of-shape, and lazy.

Today's Confession: Diving, as a sport, scares the crap out of me, especially after seeing that kid hit his head at the US Open.

The worst day to end the worst week

Today sucked. Hard. I woke up at 6:00AM to get ready and drive to Mishawaka High School and take the ACTs. I did so badly. I thought I did well on the SATs and then I got an email with my scores today. I'm in the 28 percentile in math. Let me put it this way, I've never scored below a 90% on a standardized test. Like I said, I thought I had done well on it. And I can't imagine how bad my ACTs will be, since I don't even feel like I did well on them. They did get out early, which is a good thing.

So I drove home to eat and change. That's when I checked my mail and found my SAT scores. Which made me feel terrible. Actually, I was terrified. My cumulative GPA is a 3.1, I got a 1610 on the SATs, I am finishing with a Core 40 diploma, and I don't have a math class past Algebra II. I am not getting into college, at least not IU. I could go to Ivy Tech, IUSB, IUSB-E, Southwestern Michigan College, but I refuse to go to a school with less than 15,000 students, and I refuse to go to a community college. If IU and Ball State reject me, I won't go to college. Which isn't terrible; it's just not what I had planned. I will just keep working at ABC Warehouse, until I have enough money to leave the country and become a hippie in the streets of South America.

I got to work at 2:00PM. From 2-6PM I did nothing but count and put sticky notes on boxes. When we were supposed to start scanning, the scan gun we were given did not work. We sent someone to pick one up from the South Bend store, after an hour of trying to fix it. Eventually, another department finished and we used their gun. After several hours of scanning and typing, the final counts were in. We printed the deviations and went to work counting things by hand. By this time it was probably 9PM. By 10:00PM my department was the only one not finished. We finished by 10:30 and as we tried frantically to get our section of the store reorganized, they turned off the lights and made us leave. There is so much crap in the register area that you can't see the floor. The boxes still have sticky notes. It is repulsive. And yet, the manager wanted to leave, so he kicked us out, saying we can clean it tomorrow. Here's the problem with his plan--it's a two-parter--1) Sunday is our busiest day of the week 2)I am the only one working tomorrow, which is quite a feat when there's no work to do. So I am completely screwed, but everybody else gets to enjoy their weekend.

I still have a portfolio to do. I wanted to get ahead. I wanted to not have to worry about schoolwork. I wanted to rest and recuperate from this hellish week. But you don't always get what you want. I am so upset; I want to cry, but I made a decision that I won't cry over stress again. It's weak and doesn't get you anywhere. But still, I want to.

Why do I freak out about things?

I just read over the last issue of The Minute. That's the school magazine, for anybody who's reading that doesn't go to Concord. From an editor's viewpoint, it wasn't that bad. It was actually pretty good. It made me realize that life may be crazy, but my endeavors are not fruitless. While I may be running around all day, I'm not doing a horrible job. Yes, I could be doing better. Yes, I make bad decisions at times. Yes, I am busier than is probably healthy. But, I am doing it! I feel good. My grades are decent, I just got promoted, I put out a good issue, and I am generally content.

So, there's an uplifting thought to follow the tons of negative ones that are on this site.


Today's Confession: I'm nervous about being alone for the next week. I wish somebody were going to be here with me. Mexico is a home wrecker.

Discipline

I have none. I've spent so much money that I don't have in the past 2 days. It's ridiculous, because I know what I don't need and I tell to myself that I don't need it, but then I buy it. I bought ice cream twice today. I ate out 3 times today. I spent $15 in gas yesterday and now I'm on empty again. I owe my parents this weeks paycheck, but I've already spent part of it. To make things worse, I haven't been saving for my Spain trip, which has set me back $190. I am pathetic. So, here's my plan: take my debit card out of my wallet, do some damage control, write a check to my mom, write a check to my dad, and then sit and wait for my $50 bonus and next week's paycheck.

Today's Confession: I really didn't mind working with my loathed Coworker today.

Note to self: you're not the ony one here

I've been having trouble getting to school on time. I need to get my act together. Fortunately, this issue of the magazine is done, so the stress is off, for now. Things have been weird. I don't know what's going on behind the scenes of anything. I am oblivious to everything but me. If I'd just slow down and listen, I'd realize that other people have issues too. And sometimes just being approachable and friendly can make things better for them. I get so caught up in my life and the running around that I forget that those I interact with are people too.

Eh. This isn't going anywhere...


-Chris

Today's Confession: I could have been to the school earlier, but I called my mom before I left the house.

Bill and Chris

This weekend was my vacation from hell. By that, I don't mean that it was a bad vacation, but that I vacated, left, escaped hell. Stratford, Ontario saved me from my life in Elkhart, Indiana. Two days of fellowship, (window)shopping, theatre, and fall weather, left me more tired and rested than I've ever known. I should mention that I should be writing two English essays right now, but I am writing this instead.

The journey to the Great North was a memory of its own achord. Grandpa Grouch was our bus driver. He looked 75 or so and had the quivering voice of a self-proclaimed grandpa. If my portrayal of him sounds endearing, I apologize, because that is not my intent. The old man was a returning veteran from last year (when he hit a deer), but this meant nothing to me. At about five in the morning, the sound of rumble pad mixed with the leftward sway of the bus, woke me up. I was confused; the bus sped up, then the bus suddenly began to slow down. The bus stoppped and GG began to yell out the window "pull over!" I wasn't sure what to think at this point, and I was rather frightened by the fact we were stopped on a highway. It turns out the bus had been sideswiped by a passing truck and trailer. The bus driver then sped up and attempted to stop the truck, but the bounty of asphalt the bus was not on allowed for the truck to drive past. The worst of the damage was done to the door, which we could not open. When the police arrived, I couldn't help laughing, as the police officer stated "that's not good" after realizing we had no way out.
When all was said and done, we stopped at Bob Evan's and got the best preStratford meal I've ever had. Then I spent the remaining hours talking to two of the English teachers. I tried understanding the tag-along administrator's strange temperament, but found no answers.

When we arrived in Stratford and were changed and ready, we headed out to shop, eat, talk. The plays were amazing. To Kill a Mockingbird was my favorite, but King Lear was a close second. Oklahoma! was great too, it had some of the best choreography I've ever seen. Overall, the trip was great. I loved the company, the shows, and the freedom. I was reluctantly happy to put off my English essays at the behest of a tall English teacher.

The trip home was equally as memorable as the trip there. It started off with a ominous headache. Everyone was loud and talkative and annoying. After a Tylenol, the night got better. The entire back of the bus played a teenage-back-of-the-bus game. It got awkward quickly and turned to small conversations. Alix, Anna, and Ben were my entertainment. Eventually, Ben fell asleep, then Alix. The conversations didn't end though. While they weren't the deepest conversations I've had on a return trip from Stratford, they were enjoyable. I felt so good. Then I had to get up and work today, which was basically a recap(itulation) of last night.

Now I have to get back to working. The vacation has ended. The hell is back. But I don't feel as bad about being here. That's what a good vacation does; it gets rid of the bad spirit.

Holiday is a better term than vacation. It comes from Holy Day. Vacation means the leaving of. And for our purposes, we don't just mean we're leaving, we mean we're seeking an intervention.

Today's Confession: I'm not the Chris in the title. The coffee was for telling me not to do my homework.

This Weekend

This weekend was quite strange. It was so short, but as I'm remembering it, it seems to have gone on forever. Friday was work, game, then a plummet to complete disillusionment. Saturday was SATs, work, then a boring evening spent working on a digital ad contract. Sunday was extreme boredom and inability to concentrate, then concentration and homework for an hour, followed by a fun evening of gaming fellowship. Today is an extension of the weekend. It's consisted of waking up late, starting my work, getting interrupted to go watch a million children, then going to work.

It's funny, I should be freaking out right now. I haven't gotten far enough in my literature review for English and I still have history homework to do, but I am eerily calm about it all. Calm, and yet, I still have this pit in the bottom of a stomach. It tells me something is not right: Tasks unfulfilled, my impending doom, emotional distress, nervous anticipation, uncertainty, digestive problems? The pit is very vague.

I must be going.

-Chris

Today's Confession: Some days it's all I can do to grip my sanity and keep it from abandoning me. Today is not one of those days.

Falling down

After school, I left my planner in the already-locked Jlab. I had to find an English teacher to let me in, to get it out. From there I went to jump Ben's car. By the time I left the school it was 3:30. I rushed home changed and headed out for work. I got stopped by a train. I arrived at work 8 min. late. I left work at 7pm and went to the homecoming game.

Breaking the rules, I went to sit at the end zone with the NHS rockers. Kareem, Spencer,and I sat together. After halftime, we went to get ice cream and see Anna. It was good. Ben, Alix and the exchange student from Mexico, Norka, met us there. Free ice cream and friends. Is there any better? I dropped the guys off at the game, just as my car started making the "I need gas RIGHT NOW!" jerking movement. So, I went to see if I could get gas cheaper than the 20 cent increase at the Citgo I saw today. I did, it was 2.50/gallon! I was on my way home to get some stuff for SAT's tomorrow (dear god, I'm scared), and I was content with the evening. It was a perfect night.

I got home. I can't even type the words, but a long story short, I packed my suitcase after throwing pots, pans and whatever was in arms length, and I moved out. I'm 18, my mother has no custody or visitation rights anymore, I've made my decision. I will no longer refer to my dad's house as "my dad's house," it is now "home." At least for now it is, this may all blow over. I don't see that happening. I plan on keeping this with me for a while, though, I feel I've carried this sentiment for years. If I sound vague, that is because I intend to be. I won't tell you, so don't ask. If you do ask, I will probably be just as vague, but in different words. I'm a little hurt, but how can you see an archer load their arrow to the string, aim, and release and be surprised when you get struck? Please, for the love of God, don't treat me like a puppy. I'm not a defenseless pet; I can handle this.

But for now, I have to put this behind me. I have SAT's tomorrow, and I can't be distracted. I'm off to bed. Wish me luck.

-Chris

Today's Confession: I don't want to stay in a hostel in Quebec, so stop asking.

Tonight was another one of those

I knew tonight would be stressful. That is why I took steps to make it go easier. I got all my sources for my annotated bibliography last night. And today after school, I cam home and saved all my sources in a digital format (except the encyclopedia article) in a digital format on my laptop. I did that so that I could flip through them before annotating the bibliography. I wanted to do that at work. I always do my homework there, and they don't have any problems with it, as long as I help any customers (I do). I had my crap together, but then they threw a wrench in my plan.

I got to work and my manager told me she needed my coworker to move some cast iron pans and griddles to another part of our department. We did that in 20 minutes. We should have had the rest of the time to do whatever we wanted (as long as we helped customers). But then, another coworker from another department came over and said we're reorganizing another part of the department. Normally, I wouldn't pay too much attention to somebody from another department telling me what to do, but this guy is around 60. For whatever reason, I associate his age with a earned respect. So I did what he said. After one section was done, he laid out more work, and then again, and again. I was organizing, lifting, and lowering boxes for 3 1/2 hours straight. What's more, I couldn't help customers properly. So, I finished the evening with a negative number for sales (I had to give some old lady on social security a *free gift* for applying for an ABC card. Free means it comes out of my sales. And I didn't want to process her application, but the same coworker who made me reorganize the entire department told her I would). Overall, not a good night at work.

I got home and started working on my bibliography. I had to annotate all the sources and add a couple citations. It would have gone faster, but I didn't have one of my sources (the book), and I couldn't find what city it was published in. It was ridiculous. I finally got it done, 1 minute before it had to be uploaded. Then I had to learn Latin phrases. That wasn't too bad, because I enjoy it. I didn't remember my vocabulary book, so I hope I already know the words. And I didn't bring home my history book, because I didn't think I needed it for the projects (I did). So I did one of the history projects. The other is really just an assignment, but it takes a good 2 hours to do. I might cheat. I know that sounds immoral, unethical, whatever. It is. If he didn't assign busy work, I might feel a little worse about it. I could also turn it in late for half credit or try to get it done before that class (won't happen). We'll see. One thing is certain: I am tired and I have to get up early tomorrow and buy donuts.

Today's Confession: I drank a caffeine drink to stay awake. I hate caffeine drinks. I don't drink soda, energy drinks, sports drinks, or any of that crap, but I think I would have fallen asleep at my first annotation without it.

A Complaint

I am always going 100mph and I'm not always the nicest to those around me. For instance: Today, I called my mom and asked her to drop off some checks at the bank for me. I said 'please' and 'thank you,' but I was short. I was asking her for a favor, but didn't want to waste the extra seconds to ask how her day went or tell her how I am. I felt badly about it, and I called her from work to let her know. She said she understood, and that she didn't think I was being rude, but I think I was. I need to slow down a little and appreciate her a lot more. I need to appreciate a lot of people more.

I'm turning down the promotion. I can't do it and school. The other reason is, if I decide to dive after this trimester, I can't do both. Even with less homework, 2-5 hours of practice a day and 25 hours of work a week don't mesh well. I still haven't decided anything about diving. I feel obligated to do it, but at the same time I feel like I've never been on a diving board a day in my life. That was so long ago, I'd have to start over. I'm a little nervous, scared, sickened at the idea.

The first thing my mom asked me after I got off of work is whether I could watch Matthew tomorrow. I wanted to ask her what the hell she was thinking. I can't watch him and do my homework at the same time. But then, my feeling of guilt reappeared. I told her I could. It's not that I don't like my brother, or my mother, but watching him is not as conducive to work as one might think.

I should get to bed. Or I will hate myself tomorrow.

I hope my essay will be done by the time Godot arrives

Here's the fruits of my labor. It's not complete, but it's taken me several days. That is misleading, because I can never just focus on writing. Anyways, here it is:

“Let’s contradict each other.” With these words, Samuel Beckett’s Estragon of Waiting for Godot encapsulates in a single sentence the protagonists’ relationship. The two men find each other intolerable, yet cannot bare existence apart. Their unlikely friendship perpetuates the play and carries the show without any mentionable events. Beckett crafts embodiments of Christian faith and skeptic thought from Vladimir and Estragon using contrasting ideologies expressed in their dialogue and uses the characters’ flaws and confusion to show the ineffectiveness of both philosophies as they relate to existence.
The better part of the play consists of bickering between the protagonists. Beckett juxtaposes the characters’ interpretations of the same event to illustrate contrast. When the two men speak of the cadavers, Vladimir calls them “corpses,” while Estragon uses the word “skeletons.” This is followed by Estragon remarking “You don’t have to look and a response from Vladimir: “I can’t help looking.” They often debate the possibility of events. When Estragon states “You think all the same,” Vladimir counters with “Impossible.” The frequent contradictions between characters reveal their differences. By analyzing the contradictions in their discourse, the significance of each ego is exposed and its meaning can be understood.
Vladimir is the believer. His vocabulary and ideas express his spirituality. Beckett utilizes a selective diction with this character; his vocabulary contains many words with religious connotations. Vladimir compares the dead voices to “wings,” “sand,” “feathers,” and “ashes” and says “they whisper…they murmur.” Wings and sand can both produce noise, but feathers and ashes do not. Sand is used to mean earth; while wings are used to describe air. He then changes his words to convey a meaning of body and spirit. The similarities between the two sets of words connect Vladimir’s initial reaction to a deeper meaning, a spiritual one. Beckett manipulates the language to inspire images of an earthly death and a heavenly life, thus cementing the idea of religion to this character. The use of the words “whisper” and “murmur” give life to the voices of the dead. The Christian tenet of life after death reverberates in these words; they describe actions reserved for human behavior, but here they are performed by the dead. Beckett’s intent in making Vladimir an apparent zealot can be seen in his most stanch example, the line “To each man his own cross,” where he inserts biblical images into Vladimir’s speech.
The faith inherent in Vladimir does not extend to his friend Estragon. Beckett’s use of diction is equally as important in understanding the skeptic as it is in understanding his counterpart. What Vladimir equates to wings, Estragon calls “leaves.” Leaves are Estragon’s metaphor for man. They bloom, mature, and die; they don’t think. He prefers to believe in nature than in divinity, saying “we should turn resolutely towards Nature.” The line “and if he does not come” epitomizes his skepticism. Beckett wrote this line as a declarative statement, not an interrogative remark, adding to the certainty of Estragon’s skepticism In addition to his cynicism and maybe as a result of it, Estragon is a pessimist. Estragon voices a dreary, melancholy idea of how he perceives life saying “All my lousy life I’ve crawled about in the mud,” following Vladimir's encouragement to look at the scenery surrounding them. Understanding Estragon's and Vladimir's qualities and ideologies allows the reader to see the criticisms Beckett has for each way of life and is essential in understanding the context of the play.
With the protagonists understood, the play is more comprehensible. Beckett’s assessments of Christianity and skepticism begin to unmask themselves. The reader can begin to recognize the disapproving tone the author intended to be heard. Vladimir, the disciple, is very cognizant of the events that came before. The past acts as a source of knowledge for him; he constantly refers to yesteryear, asking Estragon if he remembers certain events. Estragon has a terrible sense of history, stating “I’m not a historian.” This is part of Estragon’s compulsive nature, not caring for the past. His concern is with the present; he worries about the present, his mortality, and the unknowable future. Likewise, Vladimir’s lust for previous times comes from his Christian belief system. He constantly asks “do you not remember?” and distresses at his partner’s apathy toward history. The bible, while not precisely accurate, is a source of knowledge that Christians draw on, and it is a historical account of events that teach faith to the disciples of that religion. So, Estragon’s disregard for the past isn’t a result of stupidity or ignorance, it is rather a commentary on skeptics as Vladimir’s attraction to history is a commentary on Christians. With or without historical knowledge, the two men are still left without any resolve. Each ideology fails to tell the characters whether Godot will come, and that is Beckett’s point. This idea might go unnoticed, many might interpret Vladimir’s account of past events as a sign of intelligence and an advantage over Estragon, but it is not so. The two are left equally unaided, uncertain, and scared.
Beckett saw both philosophies had flaws in their treatment for the idea of existence. Beckett uses satire to speak for him. Through his characters’ flaws, he comments on the Christian tenet of faith in God and the skeptic trait of fearing death over enjoying life.

Promotion might be a step backward

I don't know if I'm supposed to mention this -especially not online- but whatever. My dept. manager, store manager, asst. store manager, and the lead salesman have all been pushing for my promotion to the asst. dept. manager position at work. This has to go through the regional dept. manager (I know, could we get any more managers?). I too want the promotion. It was offered to me, but the decision won't be made for a week to allow any other applications that might come in to be processed. I was originally told, when I applied for the position, that it wouldn't require any additional hours. But now, they are telling me I would have to take on an additional 5-10hrs/wk. I don't know that I can do that. The job would be an hour inrease (50 cents I think), plus $50 bonus each month the store hits its quota. The extra money and time would equate to an addtional $300/month. But I had to drop hours just to keep my sanity before. If I went at 4 instead of 5, 3 days a week, plus 8 1/2 hrs Saturday, that would give me 23 1/2 hrs/wk. Is it worth it? I don't know. I don't think it is, money isn't very important at this point. I have no time to spend it. However, my many long-term goals do require lots of money. I think I know that I can't take the promotion, but I've been waiting to take this promotion since my second week there. It's too bad really.

School is okay. I've got a good GPA, it's my REM (cycles) I'm concerned about. I usually get enough sleep, but I spend too much time on the internet. Like this. I like this blog, it lets me write and record my thoughts, and very few people will ever sit down to read it. And if they do, that's great too.

Thought it was time to do something stupid.

18

Okay, I thought I'd write about turning 18, because it feels like a big deal to me. I've never been really big on birthdays, but this one I am. I realize it doesn't mean a thing to anybody else, but it's not anybody else that is writing this blog.

I'm legally an adult. I always thought when clicking on "I agree to the terms of use" buttons on programs, websites, and whatever else that it didn't matter if I did break the rules, I couldn't be charged with anything legally binding. Whether that is true, I don't know, but it sounded right.

Eighteen is almost like an adult. I can do the majority of things anybody else can now. I could go to Canada on a whim. Buy a really awesome computer and put it on a credit card. Get addicted to cigarettes. Vote for a less incompetent government official. Or enlist in the military and blow stuff up.

It seems funny that I am now old enough to get a credit card and destroy my finances, be drafted into a war, vote, be charged as an adult in court proceedings, drive a car, stay out until whenever I want, move out, buy porn, buy cigarettes, travel international borders, but I am not of legal age to drink. Not that I want to drink so badly, but it's weird that I am an adult, but not really. The government will trust me to hold a gun, vote on a president, and buy land, but they won't trust me with alcohol.

I guess 18 is cool, but I am really more excited about a day of my own than being legally deemed an adult. In my mind, I've been 18 for a year and a half. Nobody tells me what I can and can't do. I learned to make choices and live with the consequences a long time ago. My parents understand this and haven't scolded me for doing something wrong or told me what to do since I left for Peru. So, great, now I have the title of adult. It doesn't really change a thing, but it gives me an excuse to make today all about me. And I'm okay with that.

Finally, Happiness

My anxiety and stress haven't prevented me from being happy. They've just made it a rarity. Well, this whole week has been pretty good. ISTEP testing at school has made things smoother. I got to sleep in 2 days this week, I haven't had much homework, and classes have been too short for any homework to be assigned. I guess a list is in order. I could write all about it, but I like lists.
Why this week has been good:
Extra Sleep
Less Homework/Extra time to do it
Good Grades
Magazine (despite being delayed 2 days) is done
Few Hours at Work
iGoogle
Full Tank of Gas right before the price rose 30 cents
Dad is buying me a laptop
Mom is buying me an iPod
Finally gave my statement to the detective
Promotion (Small Appliances Asst. Manager...the coolest, most meaningless title ever)
Saturday is my Bday (hence the presents)


I guess that's it. It's been good though.

Today's Confession: I knew Curtis sold that computer under my name, sorry Larone.

I Love ISTEP

This week should be easy. I can sleep in two days and I don't have any homework. I almost feel a little guilty that I am profiting off of the torture of underclassmen, but then I think about the fact that I'm free and I forget all about why. It's going to be a good week, and at the end of it, I'll be 18.

And We Turn to Drugs

I have a lot to say about my stress issues and it might sound complaining, so I'll talk about magazine first. My sophomore year, I had a haven. It sheltered me from the outside. It wasn't entirely safe on the inside either. There were still discontent and hatred and dramatic ongoings, but they were outweighed by the passion and common bond we shared. The Jlab was a place where people shouted, cried, slept, laughed, listened, and on occaision, wrote. There was more stress in that room than any place I've ever been or would care to visit. That didn't matter. What did matter was the fellowship that we all shared in.

We were all charged with the task of putting out a newspaper every three weeks. Sure, people do it everyday, but for students, with limited time, resources, and knowledge, it was not an easy task. To add it to the frustration, there were hormones raging about, alliances being formed, and staffers slacking off. It was the combination of these dispositions (most self-inflicted) that united us. We were the newspaper staff. We put out the paper. The experiences we shared were important. We wrote kudos, listened to punk rock, quoted Dane Cook, made bad jokes, ate pizza, stayed for work nights, came in for distribution, paid our fines for foul language, took a field trip, and we were a family. Mike, Kim, Laurie, Danny, Iris, Brit, Eric, Zach, Kelly, Kim, Becca, Rianna, Tiffany, Kelly, Michelle, and Ashley. I didn't like all of these people. But I do miss being around them all.

I don't feel a deep love-hate relationship with the staff this year. We all are too formal. We don't mad and yell at people. We don't order in food and stay late, we just get it done. And while we're more effective, we're less affected.

In a monarchy, there's a leader who has to make executive decisions. Our head was Mike. He took more criticism and hatred than I thought possible. If something went wrong, it was his fault; if something went right it was the job of the writers. It wasn't fair and tortured one person, but that person had supreme power for a year. Their word was law. When there is no chief, the power is divided among those that remain. This oligarchy has diffused the power of an editor. I don't know what is going on in that class. I only know that we need money still, and we can't publish until we have it. I don't know what is going on the website, what the Hi-times is doing, or what the sections of the magazine are. I am an editor. I have no power. I am an empty title. I am an editor, but I'm not. I am a business manager. The problem with this system is that it is effective. We're putting out a newsletter each week, the website is updated daily, and the magazine is slowly but surely coming together. We have had minimal problems. And I hate it.

The problem isn't in the system, it's in me. I am old-fashioned. I am trying to make it what it was and not what it is. I might be the only one. Newspaper is dead. Magazine is a class. And now I need to accept it, but I'll hold on to my denial for a little while longer out of stubborness.




Now, I guess this will be a long post. This week has been the hardest yet. It started on Monday, like most weeks do. Work followed by homework kept me up until 2am. Tuesday was a rerun of Monday. Then on Wednesday, 4 hours a night of sleep caught up with me. I was stressed, hungry, cranky, and tired. I went to Niles Haunted House, but I was too tired to be normal and I was increasingly annoying. By the time I got home it was all too much. I still had several hours of homework left to do. And it was all too much. I couldn't take it and I broke down. Thursday was a better day, I was still stressed and tired, but I had lots of prescriptions that were meant to cure me of my errors. And Friday was the first decent day. I have only had half the amount of sleep I should have gotten this week, and I still managed to mess up a very important assignment. It is all just getting deeper. Soon we will know if I will sink or swim. And either way, there's only discontent. I posted a very detailed account on myspace about my breakdown on Wednesday. It was almost poetic. My inability to keep my eyelids up is now conflicting with my will to type, so I am going to leave you here.

Today's Confession: I wouldn't call me back either.

I Am My Own Slavedriver and My Own Runaway

I will make this quick, because the second I look at the clock I will be furious with myself for not doing my homework. Which is what this post is about. It is Sunday and I am doing all my homework today. I do this every Sunday. It is because I invariably work Saturdays. I could do some work on Friday, but I usually work then and have some social time after. And Saturday nights could be a good time to do my work, but I am usually too dissuaded after working 9 hours. So Sundays usually work out as a perfect time to do my work.

But today, I cannot seem to focus. I should really be able to do this, but for whatever reason I can't stop distracting myself. Even as I read Brave New World, I had to stretch out my leg muscles and back while reading. And instead of going straight to my other million assignments, I spent 2 hours putting up pictures around the house and other frivolous activities (like updating a blog that goes unread) that do not contribute to my GPA or to anything. Then I get angry and force myself to start doing work. I do so by stressing myself out. I think of all the homework that I have left and all the consequences of not doing it. And then I get into a panic, like the one I am in even as I type this. It becomes too much and I go back to my homework.

Now I have to go do my homework.


Confession of the Day: I really did like Sophie's World, even though I hated it until the end.

The Surface

Life is the same everyday. Some days there is more homework to be done and some days I have to work and some days I don't. It's not interesting, but it's life. I'm so neurotic these days.

I am unsure of my level of friendship with everyone I encounter. I know where I stand with people I've known for half a decade or more, but it's the others I worry about. The people who I always considered friends, but who didn't keep in contact when I left. They are the ones who confuse me. Where are we now? After a year of not speaking, are we still friends? Do I still say 'hi' in the halls? What is our relationship? I'm still friendly with a good number of these people, but it feels like our connection is purely superficial. I used to use the word acquaintance very cautiously, because I considered most people my friends and found it hard to differentiate. I know the difference now. Friends are the ones that leave you weekly messages when you ditch them for a year. Acquaintances are the ones you invite to hang out sometime, while both of you know that won't really happen.

I'm always second guessing. Are you my friend? There are very few things I'm sure about; even fewer people.

Today's Confession: I don't know if I was actually right today. And I'm happier being wrong and made fun of than being told I'm right for sympathy.

The Fall of Communism

Working at ABC Warehouse isn't a bad job. I sell small appliances and electronics, interact with customers, sit around in a climate-controlled environment -and I get paid for all of it. I do have to work with some idiots from time to time, but it's usually not too bad. Today was not a case of "usually." Saturdays always start of with a 50 minute meeting that I really don't need to be included in, but am required to attend.

After the meeting I put the cash in the register, without counting. This was fine, but then a coworker came over and said that she was told to be on register that day (we can only have one person on the register now, because the drawer was never balancing out). It was when she counted the money that it was realized that 20 dollars was missing from it. As I was the person who had counted the deposit last night, I told her check the deposit; that I had probably put one too many twenties in there. She started making accusations of theft toward me, the managers, and the guy who had brought the box of drawer money over. While a manager went to go check the deposit, I asked her if she had counted the drawer twice. To which she responded that she's not an idiot and that she knows how to count. While she started recounting with a calculator, I counted the money in my head. Making small "ok's" and "equals" sounds under my breath. She started yelling at me for not trusting her and for confusing her by saying numbers. Well, it turns out that the 20 dollars was in the deposit. And that would have been the end of my troubles, if this girl weren't impossible to get along with. I should also mention, for future reading that while only one person is allowed to handle the cash, other salespeople can ring up a sale, but they must transfer the money to the person on the register.

My first day on the job, my manager and unbearable coworker told me that while we make small set commissions on each sale, it is the department policy to put a second salesman's name on the deal and to rotate through the salespeople on that shift. And while you might be "writing" the sale, it is possible to not be included on it; if you're not one of the two people who are in line to be on the sale. This was to make things "fair," I was told. It did seem to make things fair, and although I thought not sharing would be a better method, I didn't say anything about it. Until today. The urge had been building for a while. My percentage of warranty sales were at .1% last week and I had really sold several warranties and protection plans, but on deals that weren't under my name. This was upsetting, but I figured it all evened out one way or another.

Today, however, was too much for me to take. It started at 10 o'clock when the store opened. I made the first sale and put it under my name. Then the second sale came and I put it in another male coworker's name. The third sale should have been put in the unbearable one's name, but she had taken smoke break, so she was skipped (as per policy). It instead went under my friend, Colin's, name. He had just come in at the time of the sale. When Unbearable came back, she was furious and started yelling at all of us. We all just ignored her and worked around the department. I eventually went to lunch and came back. I walked in and saw a couple of sales occur, but I wasn't the one writing the deals. A few hours later, when I did write a sale, I followed procedure and, by luck, I was the next person to get a sale in their name. I wrote the sale, but after doing so, Unbearable tells me that she has been jipped out of her sales and that my sale should have been hers. So she redoes the sale under her name. This wouldn't have been a big deal, but sale was for a clearanced item, which we get paid cash for by the general manager (because he wants them out of the store to help our numbers and standings within the company). This irked me, because I had actually helped the customer and she hadn't done a thing to deserve the sale and she wasn't supposed to have it. A few minutes later, I began checking people's sales. I realized that two people had 5 sales, Unbearable had 4, I had one, and third male coworker had one sale. I was upset, especially when I realized that nothing was sold while I was at lunch. So this girl had jipped me out of a sale plus the cash, and apparently, the others weren't being honest about the rotating of deals.

By the end of the day, I had worked 8 hours, while everyone else had worked 4 hours, except unbearable who worked 6 hours. And I made the same amount as the other male coworkers who had been there 4 hours each. And Unbearable made more than everyone. I worked for an hour longer with only one other person and had only made as much as the people who worked for half as long. This made me furious.

I complained to the general manager. This was a terrible way to run a business. I always ask every customer if they need any help when they first enter the department. If they do, I help them. If they don't, I tell them to let me know if they need any help later or if they have questions. I take care of the customer, but the everyone else in the department (except my department manager, the only one with the day off) sits on their butts and don't acknowledge the customers at all. And for all this, I make the same commision, though often less than, everyone else. This was rediculous. The general manager told me that he thought it was stupid and that he had told the department manager not to rotate or share deals. He also said he was going to let her know that it wouldn't be allowed anymore. I finally felt a little vendicated.

I didn't realize, until I was complaining to an office worker that this was communism. Everybody gets the same pay, even though some people work harder, there is no incentive to work harder. And on top of this all, people were cheating the system by ringing up customers I had helped and not following the rotation. I am furious, mostly that I didn't realize that this was communism and that I could have done no work for the same pay. I am also furious at my coworkers except the one honest guy who also only had one sale at the same time as me. I am also happy; I am free to make my own money.

I can see why my manager had this policy of rotating and sharing. It sounds fair. And it may have been at one time. If everyone is helping customers equally and follows the rotation, then it is somewhat fair. Even if it were fair, it isn't smart. It is completely stupid. If we're all making the same anyway, then we should make our own money. The system can, at best, be as efficient as capitalism, but it relies on people working equally and being honest; which, ABC workers are not. I had asked why we did it once, she said it was so that the people who are good at selling aren't the only ones making money. That made sense when I was new and didn't know how to work the register, but it is the dumbest policy a store could have. If everyone is being made equal then there is no incentive. Nor is there any competition. Capitalism thrives on competition. If salesmen aren't a little competitive the store won't make much money. Certainly competition can be managed through professionalism; there's no need to steal customers or to be unfriendly. Capitalism at it's worst is equivalent to communism. And I am glad to see the fall of communism in the small appliances department of ABC Warehouse.

And the Beat Goes on

So things are picking up. I'm trying to keep up. I'm not doing too badly, but I need how to learn to work on things that aren't of immediate concern, because they become bigger immediate concerns (so I'm learning). Before it wasn't too bad; once in a blue moon I would stay up til 1am writing an English essay. I could get away with it. If I leave my homework until the night before it is due, I will have a nervous breakdown and have to be sent to some institute. I don't want to do that, so I'm trying to keep on task and get things done quickly, for my sanity.

If anybody has a method that works for getting longterm assignments done over time, let me know. Like anybody even reads this.

Confession of the Day: I bought those donuts yesterday.

Weekends Are My Favorite

Despite working, I had a lot of fun this weekend. Friday night after work, I went to the football game and out to eat with friends. Then I worked Saturday, but after that I went to the Junior Miss pageant to support Liz (she won by the way). From there, I went to a friend's birthday celebration. And I ended up at Colin's house, where I was supposed to play video games and converse with my Ben, Colin, and Ross, but instead, I went to sleep within minutes of arriving. I slept for about 12 hours. It was a much needed rest.

Today, I violated Sabbath by working all day. First physical labor, which I decided wasn't for me, then homework. I should be working on some homework right now, but it's not due until Tuesday, so I gave myself a break to update this.

I decided that I want to go on the trip that the Spanish club is arranging. A two week tour of France, Spain, and Morocco, I can't wait. And I might have an unexpected five hundred dollars coming my way. I've been thinking about my next trip since before I got back from Peru, so I figure this is a good step. Plus, it's a good idea to have a goal that I'm saving money for, otherwise, I spend it. No more mindless consumerism for me.

Today's Confession: I lied twice today and I feel bad about it.

Hump Day Is Almost Over

Wednesday is hump day; the day the divides the week in two. I've made it past the first half of this week. It's not that I want the week to be over, I just want to get past this part where being a good student is hard and foreign to me. I want it to be second nature. I realize it's a process and that diligence and organization never be ingrained in me unless I continually make the choice to be diligent and organized, but it's a little tiring and redundant, to be honest. I can see my life for the next week consisting solely of schoolwork, work, and homework. I guess I make it sound worse than it is. I enjoy my classes, even AP US History; which I have with my brother.

But tonight, Barack Obama is on the Daily Show, I'm going to a party on Friday, and one month from today (31 days), I will be 18. So, those are my highlights to look forward to.

Today's Confession: I already messed up being a perfect student by neglecting two assignments (though I did so through no act of consciousness), but I can still go for "good," I guess.

P.S. Buy an ad in the school magazine. We make it look "Awesome" and then thousands of high school students will buy things from you. Completely sincere.

The First Day

Today was the first day of madness. I am pretty content with my classes, just overwhelmed. It suddenly became real. Instead of talking about how I will have to be organize and stay on task, I had to start doing those things. I have my first test tomorrow over Sophie's World. And I had a few small assignments to do for other classes. I now only need to study for the test. Well, that and work from 4-9.

I've requested less hours at ABC Warehouse, but I have followed up on my letter. I hope that they'll be okay and that it will be enough and I won't have to quit. Well, things to do, can't sit here typing all day.


Confession of the Day: I have no idea if this will work.

Starting Off

Okay, so I figured I would try to keep a blog. I don't know if anybody will read it, now that they see me every day, but I figure this year will be as interesting as last. With 4 AP classes first trimester, a job, and being an editor for the school magazine, I've got a lot on my plate. Hopefully this doesn't become a boring recap of all my homework. I'll try to keep it interesting. If all else fails, I'll lie or make myself do something worth writing about.

Today's Confession: I haven't finished my books for AP, yet.

(I'll try to give you one of those each post)