I ran home, I was scared, age ten, first day at summer basketball camp, I was at my future high school, mom was in the restroom, my eyes opened, the gymnasiums were huge, those college men were Goliaths. While cutting through my park, on my way back to the trailer, the cop stopped me, my eyes widen some more.
Around that time, I also took a shortcut, while we were hiking up the Astoria columns, my friends were going too fast, my brother went along with it, leaving me behind, up the mountain, to the tower, so as I steered off trail, up my own, I got lost. There may have been boys scouts, and people all over, looking for me, but, almost an hour later, one cop knew where to find me, Aunt Karen then wouldn't let me eat those oatmeal cookies that I was yearning for.
Stumbling to the floor, during scrimmage, while seeking to box out my man, at half-court, demanding for an offensive charge, as I acted like I was in the key, at the close of freshmen tryouts, the coaches huddled me over, calmly asserting that I would not be cut, that I could, in fact, be manager, dress good, help out, practice hard, proof yourself, and we'll let you play some games. My hands grew numb as I biked several miles back home through the rain, age fifteen. My classmates, they all thought I was funny because of how I talked, how I was always happy, but months later, those athletes frowned, "Why don't you come to practice any more... Joe Cool, did you quit?" My head dumbed down. The next year, my head was up, I even ran the mile, during my sophomore year practice, at my fastest time, ever, 6.20, I think. That year, however, there was no mercy. There was over a dozen of us cut. It was always my dream to dunk, to play in the NBA. I still think about it, I still love the game. My dad played college, he would dish it out to uncle Jim, man, just like Stockton to Malone, those were the days, right?
During high school, I regret never running for ASB class president: compete against Ander, against Kari, against Blaine, oh man, I love competition. When trying out for plays, McCabe adored my unique style but said that there was just not a spot for me, not one design for my style.
In college, I didn't even try out for basketball. I did try out for the drama team but they didn't think I had what it took. In my third year of college, I finally tried singing, but I was quickly rejected, but they did offer me some private music lessons, but I didn't have the money for that. I did Children Ministry but I would not always be on time. I tried out for a year-long ministry team, called Impact, they sing and help churches all up and down the east coast of America, through Word of Life. They didn't even respond back to me. During my three years of college, I was always applying to other college, I was researching, emailing, applying, to over a hundred of them, all over, and I thought past midnight through them, most nights, stressing my head about the future, with what would I study, where would I go after this, after that, how will I afford it, how can I make it, grr.
During summer camp, once, I quickly blurted out that I was going to sleep with a kid. He tells his mom after camp, and that ruined me as a counselor in 2006, in New York. I was part of their other camp in California for two weeks, just after that incident, and I was not able to counsel up in Lassen Pines; I was also left with Bible homework for the next several weeks of summer. The incident occurred due to my smart mouth, since it was late, he wouldn't go to sleep, I quickly referenced Michael Jackson and made, what I thought was, a hypothetical statement, I mean, you don't want me to, I mean, do I have to, well, that's right, then go to bed, well, that scared him, but too much, I mean, he was only like age twelve, man, and so to him, the perception was, I was making a threat, unfortunately, which is illegal if I couldn't actually follow through with it, you know. I mean, it is not right to assert that people know what I mean by what I say, and so, my intentions don't matter, which reminds me of those I have called dog, ugly, hmmm, the list goes on, but I am almost scared of talking to people now a days because I don't want to offend nobody, and it keeps me from acting as silly as I were.
While in New York, I attempted towards being an RA, mainly due to my need for its scholarship, but I was told that I was not qualified, didn't have the experienced.
My life-long childhood friend, Tiffany waved bye to me, one Friday after lunch, around 2003, in high school, I knew that I was suppose to call her that night, and the following morning, she never awoke again. There were times in my life that I wanted to marry her. Of course, I run into new girls, all the time, and the younger I was, the more I was thinking about it, the younger I was, the more I thought I would fall in love, but then I started seeing how quickly girls just pair up with guys, as if they are preparing to enter the ark.
Just a year ago, I tried out for another mission trip, the Service Corps, for the summer of 2008, but I never received a response on that one.
After months of washing dishes at Kells, they replace me with a younger, quicker, more appreciative hispanic, one who doesn't require gloves.
Likewise, after months of working at an elementary school, at their after-school program, after only a few light warnings, I mean, a few hints, out of no where, they fire me (they said it was my style, so we have to part ways) since I was not getting better, I was not properly supervising, keeping my eyes on everybody, holding firm to their high standards, doing such a job with excellence, a job that I care about with a passion, one I care about more than anything in the world, which includes an obsession in listening to each individual, caring for them, but on the other end, being less proactive in the mist of the storm, confronting fighting more, I was stepping it up, writing them up more, but was I suppose to magically stop all accidents, all bumps, all fights before they even started, especially during basketball?
Through the collection of such perceived failures, there is more that must be said....
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