Those were the days..

My brother sent me this picture the other day, and I couldn't help but laugh. It was a picture of a bed that had been turned into a WWE ring. For all of you who don't know, WWE stands for World Wrestling Entertainment, and yes I now know it's fake and scripted, but try telling me that back when I was the Miles Lane, and I may have slapped you. My brother and I use to go HARD, and I mean it. I told him, after he sent the picture, that one of us probably wouldn't be here today if we had that when we were kids. 

We weren't the type of kids who would just fake kick; oh, no. We use to take sheet rock and pretend it was a table, then somehow I was always the one getting slammed through it. The choke-slam, the tombstone, the spear, the rock-bottom, these were all my brother’s moves. The twist of fate, the five-star-frog-splash, the pedigree were all of my moves. We always use to go at it upstairs in one of our rooms, but after the occasional “knock it off!” cries from my dad we decided to move to a much more sound proof location, the basement. It was sketchy at first, only a thing rug separated us from and concrete.  Our dad finally got a wrestling mat, one like we use for the actual sport so we could practice our moves and get better, but really it was the missing piece where we could slam each other, and not gently lay them down.

I think it made us tough, close, and the childhood brothers should share as they grow up. A day came, however, when he outgrew the WWE fanatic who he used to be, and I got stuck just playing with my action figures by myself, alone. I really did love it though, when he would come downstairs into the basement and toss me around, it felt like the old times, the sheet rock tables, the actual chair hits, the actual ladder matches in the garage, those are the days I’m going to look back on.

No More "Next Year"

This is it. My last high school sports season ever, and then I'm all done. It still hasn't hit me yet how it seems like yesterday I was just a freshman walking the halls; scared as hell. I've watched each senior class before me go through the same thing where at the end, it's all crying and hugging and thanking for a great four years. I never saw myself crying after the final whistle blew, or the referee slapped the mat for the last time, or the last out in any of the games or matches. I just didn't feel like I had to cry because in the back of my mind "There's always next year for us." Now, there's no more "next year."

I have cried only a few times: once, my freshman year when our football team lost states, and I knew it was the last time me and my brother were ever going to play football together; once, my junior year when our team lost states in football because I was really close to that senior class, and I felt like we really had the chance to win that game; once, this year in the last game in football because it was my last time ever I was going to be wearing the jersey and that's hurt the most. Those times, beside this football season, I had that same thought in the back of my mind where, "there's always next year." Now, it's just a countdown to the final out, and I know it will probably be the hardest I have ever cried in a long time. Yes, it's going to suck knowing I'm never playing baseball again, but the fact that I know, "there is no next year this time," is really starting to get me.

I want to go out with a bang this season. Getting an individual state championship is a good accomplishment and all, but nothing beats winning something as a team. No regrets. No bullshit. No drama. I want this last season to mean something, something that I can look back on and proudly say, "I had fun doing this." Maybe it's the reality that I'm graduating in a few months that's starting to open me up, and get scared. Yes, I'm just a youngin' on his grind, but also scared of the real world at the same time.

Time to fly?

I've never been outside of New England more than twice, both were to Florida. I don't think much of it because I was really young; I figured I would take more trips as I got older. Here I am, eighteen years old and the only trip I've taken is to New York for a college visit. I always like to think that traveling is fun, but in reality, I'm not a fan. Even trips to Bangor can't beat out just driving around Bucksport, the back roads, windows down.  

So here I am, looking at this New York college thinking to myself, "wow, I really like it here," but in the back of my mind I'm thinking, "are you stupid? This is eight hours away, you can't do this." The smile I had on my face slowly started to fade away, and when we got back in the car the thoughts of getting away seemed less intriguing and more frightening.

About a month later, I take a tour of Maine Maritime Academy and I surprisingly loved it just as much as the New York one! Both are great schools, both have great job opportunities, both have great faculty, and both have great atmospheres. Now I’m torn between, “do I want to get away and start over? Or do I want to stay close to home? I find out in a couple of days if I get accepted to the college in New York, and I’m still at 50/50 with both. Some days I come to school and think, “get me out of here! I want get away from this place.” but I know I'm just kidding myself. Other days, I could never see myself go because I’m not the type of person who just packs up and leaves.  I know whatever I choose my parents will support my decision. So, is it time to fly?

That Complicated Girl

I know girls will occasionally fall for the asshole, but when did they start to like getting treated like one? I never thought I would find a girl who laughs and finds it funny when shes treated badly over being complimented and doing nice things. Being a sort of follower kid that I am, I decided to take on an asshole role, and she does't seem to like that. When is it time to just give up and move on? I'm stuck in that unbeatable pickle where it has come down to where I haven't spoke to her. However, I'm a type of guy who wants to know everything and solve problems, and it kills me that I can't seem to figure this girl out. Is she tying to make me a better person, or just a puppet working my strings?

Well, I'm either going to just keep playing the game like I always have been, or I will finally break the barrier. By that, meaning enough with the complicated girl and say, "screw it," and wait until college. I've done a pretty good job at remaining single, I'm good at that. No matter the case, I'm still just a youngin' on his grind.