Requiem Part 2

It's been more than a week since Dad's death.

We held the funeral in the beautifully redone St. Mary's. That Dad never got to see finished...

I've been back to school.

But it's not the same.

It never will be.

Even if it's something in the back of my head,

Reminding me when I wake up.

About that terrible year that Dad's life was slowly sucked away.

He died on January 30th, a few days before Groundhog's Day, which would've been the anniversary of the last time he walked and the last time we took him to the hospital.

Because after that we wouldn't let him leave home.

I can't believe that after that year, in the course of 365 days, that he is so gone.

Everyday, I wake up,
And I'm reminded for a moment,
For the pain a man suffered,
And the inevitable loss his family felt as he died.
I say to myself, "My Dad is dead.
I have one parent who's dealing with the intensity of her own loss,
Which I must say is alot stronger for her."

But everyday, when I go to bed, I try to remember who he was before the cancer.
I remember this quote that has been repeated many times upon Dad's death.

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have
kept the faith.

And I ask myself,
Would he be proud of me right now?

Teary-eyed Nostalgia

I went to mass a bit ago. St. Mary's is undergoing construction, and I took a walk around the old church. It's a construction zone. It inspired me to come up with this song, along to acoustic guitar.

I grew up in a small town
Didn't know what it'd do to me
Ever since I was a child
My childhood was happy, so perfect
No "come and go", just come and stay here
I graduated with a smile

Applied for college in California,
Made it in just barely, mind you
At the crossroads of life, there I stood
I packed my bags and left for Cali
I could finally follow my dreams but I
Should've know I always could

But I went back one day
Everyone had moved away and
I went back one day
Change had had its way and
I went back one day
And nothing was the same
So now I'm singing

Teary-eyed nostalgia
Can't do a thing to stop it
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Make it back the way it was
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Why does it haunt me?
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Well you know what they say
Well you know what they say
You can never go home again.

I stand there speechless
Looking at what used to be my home
The old place wouldn't last
Worse yet, the school had upgraded
Bigger and better things for them, re-
Painted the walls, and they painted over their past.

But I went back one day
Everyone had moved away and
I went back one day
Change had had its way and
I went back one day
And nothing was the same
So now I'm singing

Teary-eyed nostalgia
Can't do a thing to stop it
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Make it back the way it was
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Why does it haunt me?
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Well you know what they say
Well you know what they say
You can never go home again.

But nothing is the same
And nothing dulls the pain
of change

My childhood was happy, so perfect
No "come and go", just come and stay here
I graduated with a smile
But now I've got

Teary-eyed nostalgia
Can't do a thing to stop it
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Make it back the way it was
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Why does it haunt me?
Teary-eyed nostalgia
Why do things have to change?

Teary-eyed nostalgia...
Teary-eyed nostalgia...
Teary-eyed nostalgia...
Teary-eyed nostalgia...
Well you know what they say...
You can never go home again.

Mondays, Part 2

Here's another part of my half-finished book. If you want to read the first part, here it is.
Mondays
A little background information - I wrote most of this while I was in eighth grade. At that time I went to St. Mary's Catholic School. Great place. At any rate, recess was a very big thing for most of the students, mostly because of competition. As eighth graders, we played the seventh graders in football. It often got really tense and at times both teams were known to cheat and play dirty. It was mostly from this that inspired this 2nd part of my book.
Enjoy! Comment if you like it!

After Algebra, there was History with Mrs. Lancaster. As usual in the class, I sat with everyone else, but read ahead, ignored the teacher’s discussion and did none of the checkpoint questions that everyone else did. So far, I’d been doing this for a month with no consequences. While they were reading about the War of 1812, I was reading about the end of the Depression. I had asked Mrs. Lancaster if she knew that I wasn’t with the class, but she just laughed and told me to do my work. She was a character.

While switching back to homeroom Andy bumped into me and said, “You suck. Wait for me next time you jackass.” I did my best to ignore the comment, and set my things on my desk. It was hard to ignore him sometimes, but it was always harder to punish him for it. For example, if I punched him for insulting me or annoying me, he would not logically link the two together and stop doing what caused me to punch him, but defiantly say something along the lines of “I didn’t do anything. You’re just a jerk.” This did nothing for either of us but further infuriated me. But for now it didn’t matter what he said to me. It was time for recess.

The school was small, maybe two hundred kids for the nine grades it offered: Kindergarten through eighth grade. Each of the grades got recess, but this was the last year that I would get the privilege before high school. The upper grades- the fifth, sixth seventh, and eighth grades- had their recess right after the lower grades, which were fourth on down.

As for the games, classes usually compete against the others. Eighth versus Seventh; Sixth versus Fifth; and so on. The sport was a variable, and the game pool included kickball, bump, basketball, dodgeball, four-square, wallball, red-ass, and many others. But the eighth and seventh played two-hand-touch football out on the grass field. It was what the two classes lived for. There was rivalry and friendship out on that field, and each football game was better than the last.

I ran out onto the field to face the seventh grade with my team. The odds were stacked against us. They had perhaps a seven-man advantage. Nick, our quarterback was shouting orders at everyone. We were receiving the kickoff. The ball soared into the end zone and Mark kneed it for a touchback. Hike! Nick dumped it to Luke, who made some good running yardage. Hike! An incomplete pass. Hike! A long pass to Mark. Hike! A short dump to me, touchdown. Score, 1-0, us.

I was a surprised at a touchdown so early; we weren’t usually this smooth this early in the game. When you’re in a football game and you’re outnumbered, no yardage marks, and no first downs, it’s hard to get a good start. On top of that, there were no referees, so if they cheated, than oh well.

We kicked off and I managed to tag the recipient before he could make it too far. John and I rushed Peter, the seventh grade quarterback. We had to rush through maybe three times as many blockers, but we pretty consistently made it through and if we didn’t make a sack, then we at least put good pressure on their QB, Peter.

So it was their ball. Hike! John and I sack Peter. Hike! QB run, maybe a ten yard gain. Hike! Incomplete pass. Punt! A quick recovery for us. We didn’t do so well for the next series of plays, and the game continued in such patterns until the score was 2-2, until it was late in the game. We had the ball perhaps fifteen yards from the end zone. It was fourth down, too long to give an easy pass, and too short to give a soaring one. I whispered to John, “I’ll be open.” On the hike, I ran straight into the end zone as fast as I humanly could. Still running, I turned to see the ball hurtling toward me. Still running, I felt my foot connect with a leg, and tripped over it. Crashing down, I saw Peter grin and make a grab at the ball.

He missed of course, but my class immediately sprang into action. John, having seen the deliberate tripping laid Peter out on the grass, and the seventh graders tried to come and wrestle us down. They weren’t able to; they couldn’t. While our age and strength may not be much use for two-hand-touch football, any sevie would be sadly outmatched to us when it came to fighting. But it was very hard for seven of us to fend off fifteen of them, even with our advantage of strength.

There wasn’t much else but tackles, but the two classes were in an all-out brawl by the time a teacher came and broke it up. He took the ball and said a little speech about our behavior, and said that the next time it happened, it would be gone for the week. It’s a simple thing to say, right? Not for him. He turned this into a five-minute long ordeal. I didn’t pay much attention, but there was something strange about how he said the speech. It was probably just that his voice kept on squeaking in the middle of it. I didn’t care. He was a pathetic teacher, and I had disliked him ever since I first set foot in the school. The only reason we hadn’t gotten in worse trouble was because he wouldn’t have known how to deal with it. All I gathered was that if it happened again, the football would be taken.

The bell rung and we clamored up the stairs, walked past the huge map of the world, and into our separate classrooms with plenty of exchanged glares.

To Be Continued...

Back At School...

Well what do you know. One day out and I've already gone back into a schoolroom.

Here's how the day played out: I got up with my brother at about 7:30 AM to go to school with him. I wouldn't normally of course because, oh wait, we go to different schools, but my friend was hosting a little poker party and I decided I'd show them a thing or two about cards. That and I used to go to Andy's (my little brother's) school with him, so it was really nice to see some of my old teachers there. St. Mary's hasn't changed a bit. Unless you count the new stairs.

So after arriving and saying hi to the principal and teachers, I found my friends and left. We grabbed donuts and milk and went on our way, smothering ourselves with baked sugars. Once we got to this kid's house we busted out the cards and chips between the four of us and started playing. I'm pretty good at poker, and if you don't count the ridiculous 'all-in' round at the end, I definitely won. It's all about the odds.

My friends soon made a mess of the chips and a fifth friend showed up while we were cleaning up. Bored with cards, we decided to play football instead. We had the two best players vs. the other three. Of course, they underestimated my skill as a football player. My throw could be straighter and faster, but I can play QB pretty well for a two-hand-touch game of street football. We didn't really keep score, but I think we won.

After that, we played some hide and seek with a twist, which was that when they found me they'd beet the crap out of me for fun. I laughed and tried to beat up just one of them, but always overwhelmed. Oh well, I was outnumbered and I suck at fighting, so I can live with that. We constantly fought and beat on each other and laughed because of it. I walked out of that house with plenty of bruises and cuts, but I don't regret it. It was about as fun pain can be.

We went back to St. Mary's and chilled there for a bit until school was released at noon. I hitched a ride with one of my friends and headed back home. After two or three meaningless hours, I realized I had to find some way to occupy myself. So off to the YMCA I went. And again accomplished nothing. I somehow ended up in a deep conversation with some guy named Richard and afterwards scrambled for a pool game. Unfortunately, there were four people there who were all to busy trying to beat each other to play me. So I did virtually squat.

And now I'm back home and blogging after a nice dinner. This day has helped me realize something though. With full days to do nothing, I'm gonna have to find some way other than video games and computer to occupy myself. Maybe I could take up ice sculpting...