Naked as a JayBird #8

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself when I wasn’t obsessing on football or basketball. I decided to continue on with track; I participated in the 100, 200, 4X100 relay, long jump, and shot-put. My back was still causing lots of pain, but I pushed through it as long as I could. I was still placing in the top 3 of all my events and I loved the attention of it (still an attention who*e. My last track event was a 100 at Hug: my sciatic pinched and I fell on my face—I quit.)

My dad decided to stop talking to me (completely) after I quit the football team. He wouldn’t look at me or answer any questions. Apparently, he decided that I was a loser and was going to punish me by ignoring me/neglect. A word to the wise: don’t stop talking or touching your children when they disappoint you—it only hurts the child more. A sorry stat. was that my dad was able to ignore me for about a year; that’s a really long time.

Instead of pursuing sports with tenacity, I would pursue other activities. I had more time for my New Wave/Punk/Goth friends, so we partied like it was 1999. I started with smoking cloves and weed, drank Keystone beer, and tried with all my might to make jocks and preppies feel stupid/uncomfortable. I was one of the few alternative kids that could kick your arse. I frequented house parties and took lots of pleasure by playing pranks on other kids and adults: tp’ing houses, slashing tires, breaking windows and mailboxes, keying cars, and the skaters followed me around like my shadow.

I didn’t have any friends just people that I thought were cool enough to hang with me—depended on my mood. “Friends” were people you used for certain things: car, money, vacant home, beer, drugs, etc.. My dad told me mom that he thought I was a “homo.” Wow, just wow. Some of my friends ended up as gay, but I was not gay, and the last I checked—I am still not gay. ;>)

Lori (girlfriend) and I were always together. If she didn’t come to school, I would get very anxious and would go hide by myself somewhere. Anyone other than Lori was sub-par and I wouldn’t hang-out with them. I started to shut myself off from everyone but Lori. I needed her to be my everything and when she didn’t measure up to my expectations/pretend person, I would get angry with her and manipulate/control her with my mind. I learned early on that I could argue any person into the ground. At the end of a conversation with me, a person would feel like they did something bad and would say sorry—this was very cruel of me to turn the tables like that. I needed my way and my imaginary world had to be protected—don’t step out of line, or I’ll put you in your place. Unfortunately, I was only doing this to Lori. I’m sorry, Lori. I hope I have the opportunity some day to apologize for how I controlled you.

I had my own car my sophomore year. It was a beautiful blue Hyundai, like the one I have now, but it was a hatchback. I was sooooo “popular” because I had a ride. I was good for lunch runs to the Keystone St. area, parties, and make-out sessions. I felt used. I got 3 tickets my first year of having my license: speeding, reckless driving, and I rear-ended someone. I was an accident waiting to happen. One memory in particular stands out: I “borrowed” my parents’ Ford Aerostar Van to go down to Alberston’s, steal a keg out of their warehouse, put it in my van, and sped all the way home to throw a party. I was high on weed, and remembered people in the van yelling at me to stay on the road. Later, they told me that I was straddling the Keystone St. median with the van and was causing sparks to fly (hehehehe). I didn’t get caught that night and resumed the party at my house. One thing all of us Einsteins didn’t remember to get was a tap for the keg. We spent hours trying to bust the keg open and I had people driving everywhere to get one.

I was failing my classes, controlling my girlfriend, partying hard, and skipping class whenever I could to smoke some weed. My constant feeling remained the same: anxious, fearful, nervous, and guilty. My OCD-like behaviors were worsening by the day. I went from pulling my hair out, digging holes in my head, to stranger habits and coping ticks. My ticks/rituals would only help a little, so I had to have more weed and alcohol to relax. Yes, I was self-medicating……