Garrett

Hey, it's Boone. If you want to talk to me you can IM me at Kartboy12. I am seventeen years old and racing takes up most of my time. In the 07 season, I still don't know which chassis or motor package I will be running, but it will be an ICC. (I know now, it's a 2007 R31 with a Champion K9B...but at the time I wrote this, I didn't know. Dono why I didn't delete it.) OK...I begin this thing discussing what I do, which is...I race. Well, I obviously do other things, but you get the idea...but then one things leads to another, and we end up with an elaborate compilation of garbage, but if you have nothing to do...I think you might enjoy it. Reading this thing will change your life forever...please...take a seat. We don't want you fainting and hurting yourself; you are in for the ride of your life, right now...in your seat...in the room that you usually sit in...on Myspace. I'm gonna just shut up and write, so just...read it if you feel like it. And no, you're in for no sort of "ride of your life." ONWARD! I race in the Stars of Karting series, the Southwest Regions Cup, and many local races. Racing's cool; a lot of people ask how I got involved. After deciding that dirt bikes were too dangerous, I got into karting in 5th grade. It wasn't REAL karting, though; it was a game of who was the most aggressive driver. After two years, I started traveling and got into the real stuff. It's a lot of fun, though; I don't do the whole team sports thing. At first, in like 1st and 2nd grade, I sucked at life. Then, I got better and started playing baseball, but I just don't like coaches. I didn't mind the church league coaches; after all, they're just my friends' Dads, and it didn't really matter. But the real coaches are what I didn't like; even if they're good guys, I just don't like the image. I hate the superiority of it all, it's like pledging in a fraternity, they just think they're superior; well, no, they just make the players feel INferior. Or try to. And I'm a thinker, I've got theories and ideas for everything. But anyway, the reason I don't do that is coaches. I never have gotten along with them. Screw that. If I'm tired, then don't make me run. I don't want to run - I'm too tired. "Gimme 20." "Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though, maybe next time." Oh well. In Elementary School, I didn't know which end was up, but today, I could NEVER be coached by a guy I didn't like. Well, by a guy I DO like for that matter. I don't like having my reputation lying in the hands of other people; I don't like losing credibility because someone else on my team isn't good. And if I am a good player, and my team wins games, then "Memorial," is good, or "Stratford," is good. Not "Garrett Boone" is good. Good. Let's say good again. Good. What a bizarre word. I'm supportive, but inside, it just bothers me. So it works out perfectly; I can develop all these theories and ideas in racing, apply them, and get credit for it. It's a beautiful thing. At first, I got in my kart, and just went barreling in to every corner; locking up the brakes wicked late, throwing the kart sideways and JUMPING back onto the throttle again, all crossed up, but I was "on the limit." That sounds about right though, to go fast, you'd think it was all about braking late and accelerating early. But as I matured, and turned into my passive self, I began thinking and realized that it was quite the opposite; I'm not going to bore you with all the principles that I've learned over the years (I had them all typed up and then realized...who wants to listen to this?), but, that's why I like the "art" of driving. But I'm getting sidetracked; back to coaches. Don't like em. That being said, before I could rightfully call myself a qualified driving instructor, I listened to a lot of instruction. I was being "coached" by forty-year olds that I was beating mercilessly, and that drives me crazy to be scrutinized by lappers. In 2004, I met a guy named Bill Talley who approached me here in Houston and told me that he would coach me for a day. At this period of time, I was driving using the basics: out in out, sacrifice the first for the second, and I was TRYING to understand throttle modulation. But nobody had ever told me HOW to determine kart's behavior, HOW to modulate the throttle, or HOW to brake efficiently. After a weekend with Bill, I was looking at driving entirely differently; it was that Sunday at Gulf Greyhound Park that I began to think for myself. However, Bill stuck with me for the year, he was my "tuner/coach." I learned so much and he told me things that I never would have come up with by myself. I knew the theories, but breaking my old habits on the track was hard, and applying what I learned was even harder. The style that Bill was trying to get me to take up was so much more ballsy than what I was used to, but I eventually figured it out, and owe that season all to him. In 2005, I got the privelege to work with Kimball Williams; starting 2004, I never would have dreamed that I would get the opportunity to work with a man of such caliber; and blah blah blah, I'm gonna wrap this up and move on to the sections that my non-motorsport friends will be able to appreciate. But yeah, after being told that I would be driving for Kimball Williams, I knew that I would be successful. There's a difference between coaches like Gary Koch, and coaches like Bill Talley and Kimball Williams; Bill and Kimball preach theory through mathematical analysis and, for me, they had to just use logical explanation, since I suck at math. High school coaches use propaganda, they convince their team that the other team is "talkin smack" and convince them to go out there and "rape em." I could do that and I don't know all the principles of football. But neither do our coaches, either, they just know how to make their team mad. The players teach themselves and I have a lot of respect for them; if I did that kinda thing, I think I'd be able to do without all my coach's garbage; high school teams are good one year and bad the next because they get better players on the team, and when those players graduate, they might struggle for a year or two until they get fresh talent. It's not because the coaches are changing, it's the PLAYERS. My peers. Burmel, Koch, or whoever, don't matter; the team could do without them. But it's not just them, it's coaches in general; it's a certain category of people who do that kind of thing: the little man. I have nothing against the little man, generally, it's just the little man whose purpose in life is to make promising individuals feel badly, that I have a problem with. Not all coaches are bad; but, based on my experience and observations...most are. Anyway, Kimball and Bill are nice guys, bottom line, I like hearing what they have to say; they ask for my input, my ideas, and we combine them together to produce something great; unlike the dictatorship of football (do what Gary says, guys, or else!) But what I was going to say is that, after working with Bill and Kimball, I've been thinking about driving in a whole new light, and begun to develop my own theories and ideas, which really suits my personality. So that's why I do that; I hate taking crap from guys that I don't believe in. Anyway... I am pretty down to earth; I don't really party. My Friday nights consist of hanging out with friends rather than drinking, smoking, etc. I love good food. Nothing really makes me mad, and what does make me mad is forgiven in a short amount of time. Me encanta ping pong. I cherish sitting late at night in lawn chairs talking with friends; I love playing baseball, football, and shooting hoops. I love movies, particularly Tim Burton flicks; movies that make you think and make you have a breakthrough epiphany...yes I said epiphany...a few hours later. Like Big Fish, or Saw. Both of those movies, I learn more and more about each day that goes by. And the most hardcore protagonist out of any film series I've ever seen is Jigsaw, formerly known as John, in the Saw films. Well, he also plays the role as the ANtagonist, it just depends on how you interpret and view the film. Regardless, we'll just say he's the coolest character. So all-knowing, so intelligent, so understanding of the world and life. As sick and demented as it may sound, we need more people in this world like him; no, don't get the wrong idea. He's just a cool guy, forget about his sick, twisted little games. I'm talking about his wit and his ability to sort of predict the future through simple analysis of human behavior. Jigsaw's just hardcore; it's all there is to it. But ya know what? So is Ewan McGreggor's character in Big Fish. OK, I know..the movie is weird. But it's a beautiful thing to those who can relate; the film seems to be made after my Dad and me. Seriously, it's about two polar opposites, and in sharp contrast to my statement about needing more Jigsaws, we could also use some more people like the father in Big Fish. He's a romantic and the son's a realist; to put it simply, the Dad views the world as lush, exaggerated, and extraordinarily interesting. Like me. The son in the movie is very much like my Dad; he doesn't believe in jynxing, he is the first to correct hyperboles, and is just a highly logical thinker. Regardless, we need both, but a high number of Romanticists in this world will do nothing but disillusion our world. But isn't that a good thing? Who wants to be surrounded by reality all the time? I want to have the bad buttered up and the good praised and elevated; it just makes you happier. Music helps me through my day, it lifts me up during the bad days and makes the good days ten times better. Creed is my favorite band; such powerful, understandable, to-the-point lyrics and soaring sounds are tough to come by. I dress like your typical teenager, I'm not a fan of the punk, emo, or goth look; not too big on gangstas either. I have a girlfriend that I have NO idea what I would do without; before her, I have no clue what got me through the year. She's helped me a lot and helped mold my character; I am always comfortable around her and have no problem speaking whatever's on my mind to her; there aren't many people out there like that. She can be really cool and fun to be around, then she can be really cute (yeah I said it, I know)and affectionate, and then really sweet and caring. She's always funny. She's got so many different sides, I'm not going to discuss them all here, but I love every one of them. OK...I'm coming back several months after writing the first thing about this girl. Umm...she's incredible, plain and simple. She just rocks. We can be sitting down, having a conversation about a controversial issue, just completely engaged in a really interesting conversation about something meaningful. Then, we can openly and comfortably talk about "us," and watching her watch me as we talk is nothing short of perfect. AND THEN...we can be COMPLETE retards and laugh until our stomach aches. I love every second of it. I'm so excited to introduce her to people as my girlfriend. I have NEVER been so proud to say that someone is my girlfriend; in fact, I recently realized that I've never TRULY HAD a girlfriend. Well, I have, but it's kind of a joke to call past relationships a "girlfriend.". I could go on and on, once again, but I won't...I really COULD go on and on, I'm not just saying that: about what she does for me, about what she says to me. But I won't. Not the place. AHEM! I'm pretty spontaneous and retarded around my friends but consider myself really good around adults. Parents and grandparents tend to like me; I enjoy adults' company. Old people are interesting, you can learn a lot through talking to them; they've been through a lot, had a lot of experiences, and most of the advice they give is based on first-hand experience. And after talking to a bunch of old men, you will come to realize that they all have the same points of view; I believe that some of that is based on the times, but a lot of it is based on experience. It's not hard to distinguish what has changed through time and what is good, solid advice. There is a reason why most old men provide similar advice; because they've all made the same mistakes that they're trying to prevent from happening to us. But, I guess the best way to learn is to experience. I don't like math and WOULD enjoy English and reading if our readings weren't killed through ridiculous heavy analysis. I believe that if you approached an author about the ideas preached to us in class, he or she would look at you with a blank look and say, "What are you talking about?" If I could approach Dickens and strike up a conversation about his reasons for naming Pip what he did, he would say, "Kid, he's just a character in my book. Why does it matter why I named him what I did?" I was recently in English class, and we were going over our final exam; the assignment was to write an essay comparing two accounts on the Galapagos Islands. One was written by Charles Darwin in a very factual, logical style. The other was written by some other guy, using a very emotional appeal, almost making the reader feel sorry for the starved, desolate plants of the islands. At one point in Darwin's scientific journal entry, he happens to have a bunch of "S"s in a sentence. The English teacher says that Darwin uses the S sounds to imitate the sizzling heat of the lands. Does she honestly believe that Charles Darwin, in a factual lab report, was trying to imitate the sizzling heat of the islands? I would accept that statement on the other account, as it was a much more emotional essay; but such an over-analytical statement as that is frustrating. And to think that this woman is grading us on how well we can make up crap. Anyway, I like to write, but I like to write in my own way and not be scrutinized to the point where it's not even fun anymore. Old English teachers are gay. Let's see...I procrastinate to the MAX. It's not cool. I hate homework; eight hours at school, eight hours at home. I also really hate it when people try to tell me that Taylor Hicks or especially Katharine McPhee were more deserving of the American Idol win than Chris Daughtry. The common argument is, "The majority of America favored Taylor." No, the majority of America favored Taylor's silver hair and retarded personality. Regardless, Chris is better off where he is now, but Chris definitely was the most deserving of the title and for sure the most deserving of success.I don't really swear, never really saw a need. I love to laugh and have a good time. I'm not one of those kids who wants to get as far away from home as possible; I want to stay close. I like it here, I've got friends here, I don't plan on going too far...and wherever I do go, I'll be back for holidays, weekends, etc. to visit. Umm, I'm not really in the popular crowd, but people know who I am. I can laugh at the nerds. Don't have a whole lot of respect for them, in fact I really don't like them. Ya know, those kids who make a CONSCIOUS effort to chew their gum with their mouth closed at all times, and who fake a DEEP belly laugh whenever a teacher tries to be funny. The kids who you can hear whimpering across the room during a hard test, or during an essay that they are not going to have time to completely finish. It sucks if you can't finish, but RELAXXXXXXX. That's my motto. Things will work out and you will be alright. I believe that your attitude is a reflection of what is to come; for example, if I enter a race considering myself inferior to the drivers around me, I don't stand a chance. But if I consider myself harder, better, faster, stronger, than the other competitors, then my chances are much greater. Same is true with lots of things; the opposite sex (talking to them, meeting them, etc), fitting into a group of people, getting all your work done. If you have confidence in yourself, you will fly very high, if you believe that others are superior, then it is difficult to succeed in what you have your mind set on; if you think that that sexy fox over to the right will turn you down because of your weight, complexion, voice, whatever, then you will approach this goddess with uncertainty and it will show, resulting in an uncomfortable rejection. Be confident; confidence is everything. Know when to be aggressive, know when to be passive. Understand when it's OK to joke and when it's expected to be serious, and vice-versa. I like people who can make light of heavy situations; they are people that I want to be around. It makes life much less stressful. Ya know, it's amazing how the human mind works. I originally had a BUNCH of my theories and what-not in here about the mind, but I took a lot of it off cause I found it to be too controversial and might make some people mad - and, contrary to what most kids in high school say, I care about what people think of me. Kinda...unless I don't know you but you don't like me, then it's like "Yeah well I don't like you either." Anyway, back to the mind. Umm, yada yada yada, removed a bunch of stuff that people might disagree with, ok...engineers. The difference between the engineers' mind and the rest of the world is so incredible. My whole Dad's side of the family are engineers...my Grandfather, my Dad, my Dad's sister, my Dad's brother, my great-grandparents, and my cousin have all been engineers. This is not true for my cousin, he's really sharp, but for the rest of the engineers in my family, their lack of understanding of the modern world is mind-blowing. They're intelligent people, no doubt, but you certainly wouldn't know it listening to them talk. Their mind is so filled with garbage that they don't have enough room for things in life that are, in the end, really important. The little things. My Dad looks at food as, "something to satisfy the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, aka hunger." He eats to fill the hole. My Mom will be eating Chex Mix; when she gets up and leaves, the Chex Mix will be sitting on the table, and, like a machine, he grabs it and starts eating this unknown mixture. I come in, and teasing his engineer mind, I'll say, "Dad, what are you eating?" He then turns the bag over, and says, "Chex Mix." Hmm...he didn't know what he was eating before he looked. I'll be eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs. I'll say, "Dad, what's the slogan for Cocoa Puffs?" Everyone knows it...except for him, and the rest of the engineers out there. He'll eat a Snickers bar (OMG, he ate something that's actually...good? Woah...not some tool with the sole purpose of appeasing his hunger... wow). I'll grab the wrapper and say, "Dad, you just ate a Snickers bar. What color are the letters of the word, "Snickers," and "Satisfies?" He hasnt the foggiest. Mom will buy him clothes, after he tries them on, he'll have NO clue what color they were or what he got. In conversation, he will approach a Mom at a race and start talking about how MRP imports Birel and Champion imports Intrepid...and the Mom has no clue what he's talking about. He'll approach me and start talking about "the rig floor" and crap...how am I supposed to know what he's talking about? He bases all conversation around what he understands and doesn't explain himself. If he's referring to his brother-in-law, Kim, he'll say Kim to some third party, and they will have no clue who Kim is. While assembling a trampoline, I am struggling with getting the spring to reach from the mat to the hook on the metal rim. However, I'm holding onto the base of the spring. My Dad comes up, "Garrett, ya see, hold it here, because the pounds per square inch is greater at the base of the spring than it is here at the end, therefore, by grabbing it here, it is fewer pounds per square inch and easier to pull." Whatever happened to, "Hey Garrett, hold it here, it's easier?" Haa, I love it. I didn't want a mathematical formula, I just wanted to jump on the trampoline. But...hey, you can't live without 'em. My Grandfather, at dinner, will begin a story and talk SO slow and use such logical language that it's impossible to listen to. I've never heard any engineer in my family speak with any kind of emotional appeal, or language appealing to the senses. But, ya know what? I love em all to death and wouldn't trade em for anything...but yeah, by talking to an engineer...you would NEVER think that the person had a brain...they're just so freakin filled with garbage; the "big things" that they learned in school. My Dad's explanation for his not knowing any slogans or the name of any candy bar or what he's eating or whatever, is because I fall victim to marketing and he doesn't. No, he's just too logical to look at what he's eating: why would you? It's just gonna fill your stomach, right? Ha. Well, I speak with very little logical language...I'm all emotion. Unless I'm teaching driving principles, in which case I speak really logically and turn into an engineer for a day...probably because it's one of the rew mathematical and logical aspects that I FULLY understand. But yeah, that's why I make good grades in English. ha...I'm such a disappointment to the Boone engineers; how did I come out like this? Why am I the one who has to speak for my family while talking to normal people? But it's cool to watch the engineers..."Oh my...look at him go! How does he do it? He...can talk? I wish I could talk." Haha, wow that sounded kinda emo...but yeah, I'll approach my dad with a math problem and he can't FATHOM that I don't know how to solve for x...then again, I can't fathom the fact that he doesn't know how to spell, punctuate, or convey meaning in writing or in speech. I love watching different minds differ and contradict; it's so fascinating. But no...I once heard from a kid in English class; without logical people, there would be no science and our technology would not be up to par...however, if the world revolved around logic, we would play no basketball games, or football, or soccer, or whatever; we would simply look at the stats and say, "Oh..that team's better. They win!" Oh, yeah...my Dad picked up a book for once last weekend, because my Mom said it was good. And when he finished it, he turns the book over and reads the title. Isn't that usually the first thing you read? I asked him, "Wait...did you not know the title while you were reading?" He confessed that he didn't, and...another engineer example for ya. The mind is so frickin sweet. I wanna be a psychiatrist...not really. Well, maybe, it'd be cool. I've got so many analysis' on the mind...but like I said, there's a time and place for everything...and this may be the time, but certainly not the place. But ask me about my other analytical ideas about the mind. Literally, I'm the most passive human being to ever walk the Earth. Well I wouldn't go that far, but I'm pretty passive. The question, "Dude...have you ever raised your voice in your life?" is a question that I get a lot. Well...frankly, yes...I'm sure in my seventeen years I've elevated my voice once or twice, but it's not something that I make a habit of doing. ...And yeah, I'm carrying on a dialogue with myself...within a monologue. How does he do it? Shut up. After a weekend in Austin with Lucy, I've become obsessed with acronyms as well. They're so much fun, hence my headline (see above). I recently read an article in the school paper called, "No Rest for the Weary in Life," by Jim Powers. It was really good, it just talked about the title, basically. But it makes you think; Powers said that, when he has a night of immense homework, he just cannot wait for tomorrow. But, tomorrow will come, and he will have another flood of homework. I guess that's besides the point. The point is, in high school, students can't wait to leave. They want to leave these piles of homework behind and move onto freedom. They want to get ahead in life so they can get into a good college. Then, they get to college, they have an equal work load, and they're working ahead so they can get a good job. They graduate, and they're working ahead in their job, trying to be promoted or whatever. For what? If you live like this, you will ALWAYS be WORKING for something greater. Working. Negative connotation...for normal people. Unless you're some thick-spectacled Robert Nash who lives for this dreadful two syllable word, who once told me that he does not like women or men, he likes money and success, and once he achieves that, he will begin to worry about women. Well, by that time, he'll be so far behind he won't have a clue. I really hope he sees this, too, but he probably won't. He's too busy studying. ANYWAY, yeah...working for something greater. Once you get your promotion, you set your sights on something higher. All the posters in your teacher's room tell you otherwise, but if you look at it, who wants to be at home working into the late hours of the night? The reality is, "something greater," isn't necessarily "something greater." Work is work. The ideal job, obviously, is making lots of money with little work. You never get a break unless you decide to be thankful for what you have. Don't slack off, necessarily, but just chill. Don't kill yourself working for your next big step, cause once you get it, you'll be killing yourself for the next one. That's the way I interpreted the article. We had an English discussion the other day about how kids get involved in the wrong crowd. In an effort to veer the topic of discussion away from Realism, cause I hadn't read the assignment and I didn't want to get a bad participation grade, I rambled on about the wrong crowd. But I realized a lot during the conversation. I've lost several friends to crime, drugs, and alcohol. They all live in nice neighborhoods with very good parents. First of all, one of them has a sibling on drugs. There are certain genes that make some people more susceptible to such activities, and that's a shame. Not the parent's fault, really, they gave their kids the same treatment as all parents do. They just get involved easier. But more importantly, it's all about the crowd at school. My crowd is great; we all have fun without substance abuse and openly talk about it, it's a non-issue. However, if I was surrounded by kids who were abusing drugs, and acted like it's no big deal, I think it's safe to say that I would get involved, as well. There's a guy that I've known since I was two years old who's family is all drug and alcohol free, but he met a kid in the wrong crowd. He liked him and they started hanging out, and after being offered drugs by this single kid, he resisted temptation and said no. But this kid introduces him to other kids of the wrong crowd, and before long, he's surrounded by happily drugged-up people. "Hey man, screw D.A.R.E., I'm so happy right now, try it." Well, yeah, you're in high school and you haven't experienced the real problems that come along with drug abuse yet. But yeah, the masses of these kids tell him one thing, it's inevitable that he'll follow. Anyone would. Robert Nash would. It can't be one time, though, someone has to be completely submerged into the crowd several times before they'll give in, and once they do, it's a long road back. People don't look at someone and decide, "He's my friend," or look at a crowd and say, "That's what I want to be like." Things just happen, someone meets someone that they like in a class, knowing no background, and they get involved with them and that's that. But there are certain personalities that are more susceptible than others, obviously. But friends shape who people are, the forces that are out of parental control. And now for another random SHARP change in direction. Grades are important, but I know of a lot of people who know how to "play the game," but they are socially retarded. When they get out in the world, who's gonna hire someone who they can't tolerate? The nerds, who I've revisited various times in my little account here. The kids who get a paper back with an 87 on it. It's an AP History test...everyone failed. "How'd you do?" "*Sigh* Horrible!" "C? D?" "nope, nope" "Well did you pass?" "Of course I passed." "Just tell me what you got." "87." This little staged conversation is one that I witnessed in Ms. Strawman's class the other day. Demi's class, if you will. He knew he had made a good grade, and he was proud of it, he just WANTED people to look at him and be like, "He's disappointed with that?! He's so smart, I wish I were like him!" But no. Well, I, at least, looked at him with a blank look and shook my head. I acted like that in sixth grade, and I've graduated from that stage, and now can sense crap like that, just like everyone else who is socially caught up. I know that he will get out into the world, pull his garbage, and his employers will be disgusted. They will fire him (because they can't stand to be around him), and on the way out the door, he will hear his ex-employers laughing at the disgusting disgrace of a defeated human being that he is. And he is to remain defeated until he learns that normal people see right through his desired portrait of himself. Ms. Strawman was making the statement that "Okies", in the 1930s, on their trek from the Dust Bowl to California, were forced to kill birds and scavenger frozen vegetables from fields as a food source. The class was quiet, and he says, "They gleen the lands." Demi replies, "Pardon?" He repeats, "They GLEEN the lands." Ms. Strawman saw right through it, but she's a nice woman. She stares, nods, and replies, "...Yes." I guarantee that nobody in the room was impressed by the fact that he knew what gleen meant. They were ALL ashamed to be a member of the same species as this piece of trash. But, I think that for once, based on the class's reaction, he realized that MAAAAAYYYBEE he shouldn't have made that "showy" statement. But don't get the wrong idea, I love people, I don't judge. I am mildly prejudiced against people who try to act ghetto. And football coaches bother me, and people who act like what I expressed in my last little rant. But really, I made that little rant about coaches, and I made it sound too harsh. I really don't feel that about all of them, just the majority of the ones at my school. I really don't like our coaches, and I'm sure that SOME football coaches all over the nation are like them, but if I meet you, and you tell me you're a high school football coach, I'll treat you the same way I'd treat everyone else. I base my opinion of you off my observations; if you prove to be an obnoxious, belittling person like the football coaches that I've met, then I will treat you like one. But I like almost everyone. I wrote more in this little essay about people that I don't like than people that I do. But that's because the people that I don't like are a select few. And I just like people, I can't write about qualities in people that I DO like, because it would be too broad and uninsteresting. I like people who are funny, nice, blah blah: get what I mean? Back to negative things: I swear I'm not a Negative Nancy, it's just that things I don't like better explain my character and is more fun to write about. As of March 26, 2007, I have not cried in like...forever. Over three years, for sure. More than that even...not since high school started. Can't remember the last time, to be honest. The point is, I can't stand when people constantly are in tears. I totally "support" crying for good reasons: a very sick loved one, umm...that's it off the top of my head. haha, ya know, a death in the family, the loss of a girlfriend or boyfriend. The difference between constant criers and, umm...the opposite of that... is that people who are always bawling are people who care more. Plain and simple; they need to take a swig of some high quality apathy. Excessive apathy seems great; you fail, but you don't care. But when it comes time to care: time for kids, marriage, finances, you are screwed. But a little bit is a key ingredient to a happy life. It's interesting though: girls cry, generally, more than guys. But girls care a whole lot more; they're a LOT more uptight about traditional things such as school, success, etc. The ideas of success vary, as well. Women put motherhood and marriage, GENERALLY, first. Men tend to care more about finances. I'm a little different, but I just think it's interesting. But back to excessive crying. I don't hate people who cry a lot; I just think that the whole thing is kinda unsatisfactory. That particular thing, but if you have outstanding traits and personality, but cry a lot, I will forget about it. I just hate to see it when that side of people comes out. But the good times overshadow the bad (you may think I just contradicted myself, but read it: I didn't), and if you are a blast to be with, intelligent, funny, etc., then I will like you and have little to no problem with your crying disorder. Don't judge me on that, I know crying is a good thing, it mkaes you feel better, etc., , I'm just talking about excessive: when people get a bad grade (to their standards) on a test or something. Prejudice is a funny thing. Blacks are stereotypically discriminated against for being aggressive, violent people who commit crimes. Contemporary society condemns people who are "racist," or as I prefer to say, "prejudiced." I am against flat racism, slavery, and segregation, no doubt. But I am prejudiced, to be quite honest. But read on... you are, too, I'm willing to bet. If you were walking through a low income neighborhood at night and walked by a dark corner with a black man with baggy pants, "bling", and a heavy jacket standing next to a stocky Hispanic man with a thin wife beater and a bandana, would you be intimidated or scared or something? I would. If it was a white man in a business suit, I would feel no fear. The truth is...blacks and Hispanics like I just described are, simply, commonly dangerous people. There's a reason for the stereotype: hate crimes, rapes, murders, robberies, etc. are committed by blacks more commonly than by other races. Prejudice is looked down upon as being taboo, a moral and social crime; but let's take a step back here. They call us the 'N' word and "white boy" and crap like that; I guess they're still mad over the fact that they were enslaved years earlier. Or, more likely, they're just an angry group of people. They're jealous that whites typically have more money, nicer cars, bigger houses, than them. But that's beside the point: why is it a "crime" to discriminate against blacks but blacks can discriminate all they want? Well, as far as far as social laws go, they have MORE of a right than we do; probably because they've been discriminated against since the beginning of time, and I guess now it's their turn? I don't think so. What about the 14 year olds using racial slang? They weren't enslaved or segregated. Back to crime and stereotypes: blacks and Hispanics commit more crimes than whites. It's not being prejudiced, it's the truth. I'm not a racist, I'm just looking at statistics and saying, "OK...says here that black people are dangerous" UH OH! I just committed a social crime, I'm sorry; I guess I'm not supposed to lock my doors, walk faster, or protect myself against a murderer. In my nightmares or whatever, whenever I imagine myself being mugged, it's always by either a Black or a Hispanic. Hold it, hold it...I know...I'm a jerk. "Not all blacks are like that, ya know!" Yes, I do know. Which is why I have a ton of respect for blacks and Hispanics who rise above the stereotype, make money, marry, have kids, and lead a prosperous, considerate life. I apologize to them for being born into skin that will be FOREVER discriminated against; it's a shame that their brothers are out reaffirming the common stereotype. "You've got balls!" No. haha, no i'm not too worried about some thug coming in and reading this because, the truth is, people who read this will agree with me and say, "I agree!" I cringe at the sight of a thug on the street; don' t lie, so do you. Do you lock your doors at stoplights? Clutch your purse a little tighter? Pat your pocket to make sure you have your cell phone? You should. Like I said...I m not too worried, because if you're reading this, you're probably a person like me. I think it's safe to say that some ghetto thug will come here an read this account on my views. It's cool. On the note of stereotypes, let's talk about women. At the risk of sounding cheauvenistic, there are stereotypes about women that are expressed by what seems like everyone. If you're in dual credit English and read the essay THE OPPOSITE SEX, you'll know what I mean. It was a great essay; very very interesting. An English teacher assigned an essay asking his students to evaluate and discuss how they would spend a day as his or her respective opposite sex. The results, according to the teacher, were annoyingly predictable: men spent their day as women struggling to be changed back, watching TV, cooking dinner for their hypothetical husbands, doing house chores and, if on a date, politely denying any opportunity to let the man "come in." Sound like a stereotype of women? Women spent their day as a man engaging in sweaty sports such as football and weightlifting, throwing clothes on the floor, piling dishes in the sink, staying out all night pursuing women, and "enjoying" the women back home beneath the sheets. Yet again, sounds to me like a stereotype of a man. I agree with the essayist: in our modern society, young people are becoming increasingly burdened with unfair stereotypes. Way back early in our nation's history, women were considered inferior to men; today, I'll be the first to admit and recognize that women are 100% equals and deserve just as much respect and opportunity that men do. However, the teacher's students wrote about their day as a man as enjoying the better social priveleges and seemed envious of the opportunities of man. This is ridiculous; in the 1700s, women were tools for reproduction and used for housekeeping. Fortunately, our government has recognized that women deserve much better than that, and have granted them equal rights. But I guess it's similar to the well-behaved blacks and hispanics in our world: they will always be stereotyped. It sucks, but hey. Well, OK...taking a step back, in school, MEN AND WOMEN ARE TREATED EQUALLY. I see no difference, and that is COMPLETELY the way it should be, but it is my understanding that the workplace is a little different. I'm assuming this based on essays I've read, but if this is true, it's very unfortunate. What the heck am I doing here? Where am I going with all of this garbage? I just don't know...but I digress. You probably know just as little about me as you did before you read this ridiculous compilation of rants. *READY FOR A RANDOM FACT??!!* I'm really frickin messy. Really. It kinda sucks. And I value summer IMMENSELY...it's so precious. This summer more than others. I used to always try to be looking nice, but recently, I've been able to get comfortable around people and just chill in athletic shorts and an undershirt. Probably has a lot to do with confidence; don't feel the need to be wearing a polo with Aeropostale jeans in my house to be cool. Still try to look decent at school, though. I love telling stories and owning/wearing things that have stories, but I don't tell many stories because I'm usually too busy laughing at RANDOM CRAP. Ask any of mi amigos...we're freaking random. I can appreciate Steve Martin humor and rat race humor; just massive coincidences that completely suck to be a part of. It's funny, my Dad really appreciates that stuff...and then in sharp contrast, I rofl during Leslie Nielsen flicks. Non-stop, it's not like a high quality satirical comedy in which bow-tied parents and grandparents chuckle and scratch their chins; Nielsen's humor is so random. I don't have much appreciation for teen movie comedy, like Grandma's boy...didn't laugh once...I don't really find sex and drug references funny, there has to be something funny behind it. And aside from movies, just in conversation...I love picking out something random and embellishing it into something hysterical. It's something that not many people other than my friends can appreciate, but it's a blast. Art class...that's all I can freaking say. Great year, boys...and girl. 2007 First Period Cammy. Yyeahh. I used to be a huge video game buff, but not anymore. I'm good at them...I guess it's because I spent my entire first sixteen years in a dark chamber carrying familiar characters (my friends, at the time) through mystical, depressing, or passionate quests through the game. Kingdom Hearts, Max Payne, Shenmue, D2...been there done that. Done it ALL...but I stopped at PS2, I think I'm done with all this. Since I moved on, my life has been awesome...got myself a woman. An amazing one, at that. I got friends...other than the two across the street, the one next door, and the several down the street who would come over and encourage my addiction. OK! Yeah, I have great friends now; had em since middle school, but never REALLY hung out with em that much...I was the kid in the group who...didn't join the group on the weekends Now I do, but that wasn't a jab at the friends in my neighborhood. Gahh I like those guys. I wrote the best English narrative ever about the companionships that have been formed in my neighborhood. If you reside in Brykerwood Estates and haven't yet read it, please hit me up. I'd be glad to show you, I think it pretty well explains my gratitude. Social skills and athletic coordination are things that I learned here, and would never have unless I was given these kids. People...we're 77055, but we're cool. And not poor and ghetto..it's a nice place. No misconceptions! Summer nights sitting in that breezeway on Wedgewood...3 AM. Just talking with our 20 kids in that neighborhood; so cool. Then waking up the enxt morning, makin some phone calls, and playing baseball all afternoon. I was blessed with the absolute best neighborhood possible...probably kept me out of a lot of bad crap; everyone in that hood is anti-drugs, anti-alcohol...and the one who succumbed to it, well...we won't support it. Peer pressure is an amazing thing...I'm a confident person and never worried about peer pressure, but it is very easy to get dragged in. Never drinking doesn't say much if you've never been offered it. The true test is if you deny drugs and alcohol offered to you from your peers. I know people who agree with me about never drinking, but when I ask them if they've ever been around it, their response is no, and they follow it up with a, "It would be hard to say no." Say no, that's all I can say. I once heard a quote...I'm not gonna put this in quotes, cause it's probably not the exact words...but a good person is like suede (silk? velvet? somthing...), it can be ruined merely by ONE small drop of water. A teammate once told me that lie's journey is not to arrive at the grave lying straight in a well-preserved body, but rather to slide in completely sideways, covered head to toe, panting "Holy crap! What a ride!" On that note, I was watching a movie, I mentioned it above: in the movie, Tobin Bell as John Kramer said to Eric Matthews, a hothead detective who is trying to rescue his endangered son, "Seems to me that your son's impending death is causing you to act; forgive all his sins to wipe the slate clean, why is it that we're only willing to do that when a life is at stake?" Matthews, in denial responds, "I've always loved my son, nothing's changed." Kramer replies, "No, no...it's changed now. You see, the knowledge of death changes everything; if I were to tell you the exact date and time of your own death, it would shatter your world completely. I know. Can you imagine what it feels like to have someone sit you down...and tell you that you're dying? .. .. The gravity of that... That the clock's ticking for you. In a split second, your world is cracked open; you look at things differently, you smell things differently. You savor everything, be it a glass of water, a walk in the park. The clock's ticking, but most people have the luxury of not knowing when that clock's gonna go off, and the irony of it is that it keeps them from really living their life; it keeps them sleepwalking. It keeps them drinking that glass of water, but never really tasting it." I can't think of words to describe that quote, so I won't. It's May 24, 2007, and school is out for summer...well, for me, I have no finals tomorrow. It's the time of your life, chillun...enjoy it. What do you think of when you hear this beautiful word? It's my favorite word in the English language, not just because of what it stands for, but it's sound. It is really a swell word. Paha, OK, I swear I'm not a loser. Umm, anyway, I picture some kid standing still with aviators on, but you cannot see his body, he is merely a silhouette in the darkness. Then, slowly, the letters "S-U-M-M-E-R" begin to roll off his tongue, and as they do, his hands begin to go from above his head, and slowly begin to go down to his side. As his hands get closer to the side of his body, the space that is touched by his hands reveals a summer paradise, slowly becoming brighter and brighter. As the final letter rolls off his tongue, the glorious "r", and his hands meet his side, he is standing at a beautiful, blue swimming pool, without a shirt, sunglasses on, and board shorts. His voice is very airy, relaxed, and refreshed, as if he had just taken a deep swig of summatime lemonade. Behind him, lush palm trees and bright green grass suround the sharply contrasting blue pool, and the sounds of elated children run around the pool, jumping in and having chicken wars. You hear the sound of pre-teen feet slapping the puddled pavement as they scamper around the pool, ignoring the shouts of truthfully careless lifeguards telling them to not run. B-E-A-you-tee-ful. Hahahahahahaha. Shucks. No really, summertime is an entirely different environment. Well, for me at least, I've grown up in a summer paradise. I think I mentioned it somewhere above...my talk of my friends who I play baseball and stuff with. Then enjoy late night conversations in lawn chairs...I dono. But I've grown up in a summer paradise, to say the least. This summer will be very different from others, though, and I cannot wait. Got new motivation. I'll balance it; sure, I'll play baseball, go home for lunch, head back over to a friend's house with mi amigos, watch a movie, play some more basketball, go home for dinner...chill, play hide and seek. It's keeps you young. But anyway, umm...I've recently found that I enjoy frisbee. That's not random at all. OH, and by the way, I have very very random humor. gah I love random crap. Oops, now I think I'm repeating myself...I believe I mentioned that above somewhere? I just don't know, maybe I'm beginning to sound like an idiot, accusing myself of things that I did not do. But if I did mention that I like random humor, then please forgive me. You can't expect me to read this whole thing to find out, though, can you? Please don't. Man...I am tired. Right now. I'm wearing a polo, jeans, no shoes, and a bunch of weird bracelets. Just in case you were wondering. I'm trying to think of why I even came on here in the first place to write in this...Oh, something that I find interesting. I don't think this was my motive, but I'll say it anyway since it came to mind. I'll just describe the noun and you'll formulate your own opinion on it. People who are totally sick: they have a migraine, their skin is sensitive, they have a fever, they're naseuous...and to school, sports practice, aerobics class, whatever... and tell people that they're going to go and work their butt off. "If I go, I'm gonna give it my all! Cause that's what I do!" Tell me what you think...to respect...or not to respect? Whoever messages me with their opinion gets a free PIC COMMENT, OMG! OK, OK....in sports...let's say basketball. A player on your team passes the ball to another team member; he drops the pass, and it goes rolling down the court. It's near you, and you see it is rolling into the arms of a member of the opposite team. You can run after ithe ball, but in order to do it, you're gonna have to hit a dead sprint toward the ball and not have time to slow down before you hit the other team member. So, in short, you're going to have to run into the other team member, the other human being, at full speed. It would hurt. Not kill him or anything, but it would certainly hurt. Do you do it, or do you risk letting him get the ball and try to score? The debate is: play the game 100% and be on full attack, knocking the other person away. The other choice is to let him have it...chances are, it will not determine the outcome of the game, so why start a conflict and hurt another person? Which would you do? Hit me up with an answer, OMG! Who knows what you might get! I love it when Moms cuss, I think it's the funniest thing. I don't like it when people have something on their mind and they keep it bottled up, and act all quiet and don't talk much...I want to know what's up. OK, that sounded feminine...ahem, DID I MENTION THAT I LIKE TO EAT RARE, RED MEAT?! Eh, I'll rant about rap music some other time, I'm gonna go take a nap. EHH, no I'm not, I'm mad at rap. Can't spell crap without rap! Badoom PISSHHH! Ladies...ladies, ladies, ladies...in rap music, you are being referred to as ANIMALS! Listen to the lyrics, listen to waht they call you! I'm not even going to repeat it...and the metaphors that they use to describe you, my word. I cannot imagine listening to some arrogant black guy saying rhyming sentences over some electronically produced sounds...about how easily they "achieve" women. Would you support and advocate this ridiculous rant (not that you would, anyway) if I referred to females as tools? It's like we're back in early early history...colonial period...where women are merely tools for men to use and enjoy. Well, in rap culture at least. And hip hop culture seems to be shaping our world...I'm not gonna lie, I'm guilty of beiing influenced by the lingo, also. Heck, I've used "hit me up" various times in this writing. "Dawg," the "n" word, "fo shizzle," - ALL THESE MEANINGLESS WORDS are so widely used. People that I hang out with, a bunch of white, preppy kids, use the language here and there to satirize it, and mock it in a way. But talking to other people, like the African Americans (let's be politically correct here)...for the most part, they speak in a different language. I'm gonna aks you a question. That wasn't a typo...black people aks questions, they don't ask them. But that's beside the point, now I'm just down-talking hip hop. No wonder the teen pregnany rate is so high! Rap music videos generally consist of a black man, covered in his "bling," with "grillz" in his teeth. For the mainstream population...well, oops...for the adults, the typical rap video consists of a black guy rapping, with gold chains dangling all over him, gold teeth studded with diamonds, bouncin around a mansion full of half-naked women, rollin around in a Cadillac with spinning rims. It's ritzy, sexual "entertainment." Rap music appeals to the desire for wealth and to the sex drive. It's full of shockingly explicit metaphors that degrade women. It's gross, to be quite honest...it is SOOO explicit. There's no beating around the bush. Rap artists claim to have their roots in soul and blues music. Soul and blues was a genre of music, dominated by blacks, that consisted of guitar and repetitive lyrics about the problems of life. I see no similarity between blues and rap, except that they are both primarily constructed by black artists. By hearing "This is Why I'm Hot," repeated over and over again by some gangSTERRRRRR named Mims, I guess that it makes fat ugly chicks feel attractive? I don't know...no me gusta! I really hope that you don't hate me now, I'll say it again...I'm not a negative person, I'm just sitting here writing stuff. Wow, and I'm blown away that you made it this far. Congrats, I'm impressed. High five! CLAP!* Yeah.....!! This is really weird, but Anyway, I guess this section is titled, "About Me" for a reason; maybe I'm supposed to actually tell about myself, maybe say that I have brown hair, ya know...tell a little bit about me. Well, tough; you got a barrel of my crap. But anyway...if you read this, I really appreciate it. Thanks for reading...you're one of the select few who can sit through a bunch of some other random person's garbage when you've got better things to do. THANKS, STRANGER!