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.