Looking Young

I've pretty much accepted the fact that I look like I am 12 years old. Well, wait a minute...I'll give myself some credit. 16. That at least puts me in the teens. At first glance, one would say that I have a long way to go before I am 22 and can walk with pride into a bar or pub, ready to mingle with disgruntled sports fans or some very beautiful women. I cannot deny the fact that I look young for my age. A few years back (even as recent as a few months ago...), I grew frustrated with the fact that I looked about six years younger than I actually was. I would grind my teeth with angst as a fast food worker or even a senile, old person would call me "boy." I HATED that.

I remember when I was on Spring Break last year. I was sitting on a bus to take me back to the Cancun airport, and I was seated behind a couple of assholes. The duo, a man and woman, had their seats cocked back as far as they could. At first, I did not feel like saying anything, because I was the only person on that bus who had two seats to himself and my seating arrangement behind these two people did not bother me that much. That is, until we arrived at the airport. I had taken a nap and, upon waking up to get off the bus, the man in the seats in front of me said, "Someone needs to wake this boy up." I did not think much of his comment then, but about five minutes after I got off the bus, I was royally pissed. That guy was an asshole--he really was! Not only did he feel that he was king of the world by putting his seats as far back as possible so he could situatehimself, he decided to make a comment about me. I wish I would have said something to him! From that moment on, I was on a mission to not be second-guessed because of my youthful visage.

For the most part, I have not been hasseled as much as I thought for looking young, especially when I go into bars down in Lafayette or in Chicago. On occasion I might get a smart-aleck comment or dubious stare from a drunken idiot inside a bar, but I have been pleased with how I have been viewed in the social scene. In fact, some of my friends have a harder time getting into bars and clubs than I do, and they look much older...especially with their beards and expensive cologne. One specific episode I remember was from a Tigers game over the summer. My friend Paul and I went to go grab a few Bud Lights from a nearby kiosk, and, when one of the concession ladies told me she thought I looked like I was 22, that totally made my evening. I even said "God Bless You!" My self-esteem was that much better.

So I guess looking young is not all that bad. I think people are beginning to realize that if I have the intestinal fortitude to go into a bar or club, I sure as hell better be of age. And, on the bright side, I will probably look young for my age when I am 50 or 60, considering my current healthy lifestyle. But, if someone that I don't know tries to call me "boy" or sarcastically ask how old I am, I respond with some expletives or greatly exaggerate how old or young I really think they are!

Matchbox 20 is back....

I am very pleased that Matchbox 20 has finally decided to come back to the spotlight after a three or four-year hiatus. The album Exile on Mainstream finally hit stores this week and I think I am going to purchase it sometime within the next few days.

I like to think I am a loyal Matchbox 20 fan, considering the fact that I have to defend such a musical preference against the smartass comments from my colleagues. Although Rob Thomas can whine a lot, the music that the band promotes is easy to understand and well-written. Every song that has been on the radio for Matchbox 20 (e.g. "Push," "Mad Season," "Bent," and "Unwell") is relatively meaningful and more deep than certain rap songs that talk about "ass and titties." I am indeed a fan of rap myself, but a band like Matchbox 20 writes music that either gets the listener thinking or just makes them want to rock out for a few minutes. Rob Thomas has established himself as an excellent songwriter. He has several Grammys from his solo career and one or two with this band. I am glad that he is brining his talents back to the band that made him famous. Now I just have to wait until they put out their tour dates.

Not "giving up," but....

To refresh the memory of all of my loyal blog fans (yes I know there are thousands of you out there!), I am currently trying to hang out with this girl on our volleyball team (codename: Zora) and just see what progresses. I stated in my first blog that I needed to "grow some cajones" and just ask her out on a date and what not. Well, after several weeks of effort on my part, I think I am going to take a break for awhile in seriously trying to pursue her. And I think I have good reason to.

First, this girl is tremendously busy. Participating in any Division II athletic program is not exactly a piece of cake. It takes a lot of time, effort, and dedication on part of the athlete. I know; I am one of them. This season for some of the upperclassmen on the volleyball team has been frustrating because a lot of freshman are given preference, and it seems that the hard work of the juniors and seniors is unrewarded. I think that is the case with this girl, at least somewhat.

Besides being involved in Division II athletics, she is also a very active member of her church community (one of the reasons why I like her) and organizes retreats for young parish members. This noble endeavor takes a lot of time as well, so she sometimes leaves on the weekends to go attend to those matters, which is respectable.

Second, it seems that every time I try to hang out or talk to her, it either seems awkward or might not even happen at all. Whenever I talk to her online she is busy working on homework or she is about to leave for practice. I was never really good with timing when talking to people online; sometimes I will just IM freely without considering what time it is, which results in people having to log off because they are truly very busy and need to get there shit done (pardon the expression).

I've also experienced some bad luck while trying to talk to this girl. I've tried organizing a dinner date or two, but I have had to cancel both of them because I had unexpected meetings pop-up or what not. I invited her to go the mentalist here last week, but she had a lot of homework and was very stressed out. There have also been times where I have tried to call her or text message her, and I don't get a response back. Most of the time it is because my calls or text messages do not register at all! It's like God is trying to tell me to lay off or what not.

So that's what I am going to do. I am going to lay off for awhile. I'm just going to try to hang out with her and see what happens and maybe when her season and my cross country season are over, there will be more time to go out on dates or what not. But for now, I just need to sit along and enjoy the ride. Good stuff happens when you least expect it.

Wedding Bell Blues

I was sitting outside the Cafe yesterday with my friends Dave and Tom, when Dave asked me if I was going to attend the wedding of one of our friends, Jessica. When I gave him a quizzical look and asked if it was a "Facebook invitation," he took out the invitation in his backpack to demonstrate that guests were truly hand-picked. After he apologized for not intentionally trying to rub it in my face, I responded to the tune of " I better get an invitation, or I am going to be [expletive] pissed!"

At first I didn't let the situation but a damper on my day. For all I knew, I had not received an invitation because I had not seen Jessica or at least had an intelligent conversation with her in almost a week. I figured maybe once we exchanged pleasantries for an extended period of time, she would remember to hand me an invitation to her wedding. I also figured that maybe the only reason Dave received an invite is because his best friend, Laura, is also best friends with Jessica. Dave also told me that you weren't expected to bring a date to this occasion, so maybe her invitation process was very selective. I figured that several of my other roommates would not get invited because they never really hung out with Jessica or were part of her so-called "clique." However, I found out this assumption was incorrect because I saw another invitation to the wedding in my roommate Matt's folder when he opened it to retrieve notes for our psychology class.

I immediately became somewhat insulted again because I had known Jessica since freshman year and have held several interesting conversations with her throughout my college career. Heck, I was even a leader on one of the retreats she was on while here at the Joe. I felt like I would be the odd man out, sitting on my ass next Fourth of July weekend while most of my roommates were out reuniting and celebrating without me.

But then I quickly remembered what Dave's initial response to me was when I stated that I would be angry if I was not invited to the wedding: "Why?" When he asked that, I really didn't elaborate on why I would be angry, and, even now, I still can't. And that made me really think about the friendship that I had with Jessica. Even though I had talked to her throughout college, we weren't exactly "best friends" who hung out every weekend. Now that I think about it, I was her friend through someone else. I think I have only hung out in her room a few times, and sometimes I would only see her if she came to our apartment if we were hosting a social function. I hardly talk to her online and sometimes I don't see her at all during lecture. Even when I start conversation with her at the bar, I keep finding myself trying to catch up with her.

That being said, I certainly cannot be angry, bitter, or insulted for not being invited to her wedding. A person's wedding is a special time in his/her respective lifetime, and it should only be reserved for those people who really touched lives. When it is all said and done and I leave St. Joseph's College, there are going to be many weddings that I have not and will not be invited to, simply because people have their respective groups of friends whom they depend on for moral support through thick and thin. Although I try to help people as much as I can, I am still only an acquaintance for some people. For the 1500+ people I know on Facebook, I am probably only true friends with less than three percent of them. And those are the people who are my moral support and who will certainly be invited to my wedding.

So instead of complaining and feeling personally affronted, I should be happy for the great adventure which Jessica and her fiance are going to embark upon. I am sure I will keep them in my prayers and mind when they have their wedding. And, who knows, maybe I will get invited to the wedding; it is over 7 months away. But I will be happy for them, regardless of attendance.

Pain

A wise T-shirt saying once read "Pain is weakness leaving the body." More and more I am beginning to feel that adage is very true. Coming from a cross country runner, pain is something that I can expect everyday of my life. Whether I wake up at 6:00 AM to run four miles or show up to practice by the rec center for an evening run of 8 miles or more, I can be sure that I will be hurting before I lay down to rest. This particular week is going to be extremely long. Since we do not have a meet this weekend, our coach has assured us that he will "beat the crap out of us" in workouts. Today I ran the worst I have all year in a workout; several of the girls even beat me in one of the intervals...that's pathetic! I'm better than that!
The so-called "weakness" that leaves my body does so in such an excruciating fashion that I feel just like falling on the ground when I hit my stop watch to signal the completion of a workout or race. But in the end, it's worth it. That's when I realize that I have seen another T-shirt that has read "Pain is temporary; victory is forever." I like to think that adage has some validity to it as well. I just need to keep truckin' and get really serious about running again. It's who I am.

“Clutch”

A home-run
In the bottom of the ninth,
A personal record at the state meet,
A buzzer-beater in Indianapolis,
A Web-gem, tackle-for a loss,
Or dive in front of the puck
A stolen base with two-outs left,
A smiling face for those in distress,
A Hail-Mary
In the game’s closing seconds,
An impromptu speech
Or presentation
To the Board of Directors.
An interception
Returned for a TD.
A prayer said
For someone who is dying
Or a shoulder for someone
Who is crying.
Sparknotes
For when you forgot
To read This Boy’s Life.

To be clutch
Is to come through
When under pressure,
To give everything
When you know you don’t have much
To pay attention to small details,
To love those who need love,
To make big plays
When big plays are needed,
To get the job done.

HEL(L)

THIS IS A COMMUNITY SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT.

For all those bold enough to take Dr. Garrity's History of the English Language (a.k.a H.e.L(L)), then you are in for quite the roller coaster ride. Let's just say I haven't even taken a test for the man in that class, and I feel like I am in for quite an arduous, academic endeavor. It's not a foreign language like Russian or Japanese, it's Old English--something 10 times worse! It seems that every class is Dr. Garrity reading and students just listening with befuddled looks on their faces as they try to understand how "sceoled" is supposed to mean "Shield" and "wolcnum" is supposed to mean "skies." I feel like I should call Dr. Brown of Back to the Future fame and travel back in time so that I could kidnap Chaucer and make him my personal translator. But for the most part, I'm just going to have to settle with my own voice as I struggle to make meaning of the words. Oh well, such is life. I wish I would have taken German in high school...

Credit Cards

The ability to own a credit card is both a blessing and a curse. I just got done reviewing my statement for the past month, and, lo and behold, I am at about $600. Ouch! That really sucks considering that I want to save up for spring break and what not. I will definitely be able to pay off the bill without worrying about interest, but it will severely inhibit my ability to lead the hectic social life that I do. But whatever, money is money, and I am really trying to go out with a bang this school year. I've really tried to not worry about my financial status too much. As long as I stay a few hundred bucks above broke, I'm O.K. I've realized that in year's past my frugal methods were most definitely good, but maybe not as fun. So this year I'm letting it all hang out (for the most part). Bars. Cub's games. Novel posters and other decor for the apartment. Running accoutrements. Dates. Good and bad movies. BusyBee. Barbecues. It's a great test of balance and moderation, and so far I am up to the challenge.

Sleeping Vs. Drinking

Being a college student, especially one embarking on his senior year, desperately trying to avoid thinking about enjoying the so-called "real world" after graduation, I've realized that there is another dilemma which college students must deal with: drinking or sleeping. By drinking I mean imbibing alcoholic beverages so as to instigate conversation and revel in a plethora of worthwhile memories with colleagues. By sleeping I mean choosing to crash early and recharge for another day's exciting ventures. The first choice is popular; the second less attractive yet beneficial to one's overall health.
This past weekend I decided to engage in the latter of those two choices. And let me tell you, it was worth it. I do feel recharged and somewhat motivated, something I haven't felt ever since I arrived on campus a few weeks ago. Sometimes it's not a bad idea to quell the stereotypical-college-student desire to revel in a drunken stupor. Rather, getting rest can often remind someone what the real purpose of coming to college is: getting an education. I also have a tough workout today that will most definitely bring me to my knees, so I need all the energy I can get. Sometimes "takin' care of business" means being practical, putting personal whims aside.