It's a strange thing to be suddenly thrust into the center of a social circle, as I was after my Sr. Honda success. I only started hanging out with that group at the beginning of 2002's racing season. These were the Pomona boys and the Tri Valley kids mixed with the Baylands girls and the random American person. It wasn't just the Baylands GT kids I hung out with anymore. I had to completely adjust how I interacted in a group in 2002. And being in the limelight in 2003...boy did I learn a lot!
See, I say kids to describe this group but most of these kids weren't exactly kids, they were all teenagers. I was the second youngest in the group, and yet I was the most important girl. Think of your cliques, your groups, in middle school. The boys and the girls were just starting to hang out together, right? Maybe a few boys would go eat lunch with the girls and eventually the two groups melded? Or a couple formed and the two groups were stuck together? I had already gone through that awkward new group formation stage at the race track when it happened to my group at school.
Being one of the core members of a group is also a quick way to learn about being a teenager. Most of what I learned about sex and drugs came from hanging out with that group, as members were very vocal about their experiences with both. I learned how to gossip, how to start rumors, how to save face, how to flirt, from being in this group. But I didn't use any of it. I just sat back and let people talk around me. I'd speak up when required, but I preferred to take it all in. I eventually became aware that it was worth my time and effort to maintain my alliances with these people. See, we were the group that everyone wanted to be a part of. We ran the race track. We were the popular kids. The kids you wanted to hang out with, the kids who everyone wanted to beat. It was fun being "that" group. You got to do basically whatever the heck you wanted off the track and on, you had so many friends you never worried they would do something to hurt your car. It made stiff competition a little more fun. In higher levels of racing you don't have those friendships off the track, only bitter competition, and that is often what creates wrecks (which creates more dislike, which creates more wrecks).
However, at the club, I wasn't part of that popular group and my choices ended up costing me some friendships. It is worth pointing out that I did try to balance my club friends with these cooler friends. I would hang out with one set of friends at my club, the cool group at all other tracks. I still said hi, waved and smiled as I passed by, wished them luck before races, went to their trailers after they qualified to make sure they were getting on okay, but it wasn't enough. I was once confronted by my club friends about this, my lack of hanging out. I just said that it only made sense that I would hang out with these people when I could since I got to see them less. I promised I would hang out with them more. The one I said that to didn't believe me. I didn't believe it myself. This is the first time I distinctly remember lying about something of significance.
It's fun to look back and notice things about your group that you didn't notice before. I realized there were 4 people the group centered around. Two girls, two guys. Each gender set were close friends. One boy had the same personality as one girl, and did the other pair. Also how those four all raced both Hvy. 160 and Hvy. B in 2003. And for the four of us, it was our last year. We all had something to prove and this was our year to do it.
6.28.2010
6.26.2010
Quarter Midgets: The Sr. Honda Years
For some reason, my brother kinda ruled Jr. Stock. I swear he would break every track record at every track we went to. There were a few times he broke his own track record. No kidding. My dad would bring both of us up to the local track, not more than 20 minutes away from where we lived, and have us just run laps at night.
Even though I had access to this extra practice, I wasn't so great at Sr. Honda. Not right away. I have a very different driving style than my brother. You see how tight those shocks are compressed in the photo above (or below)? That (among other things) makes the car tighter - harder to spin out, but also means it has a lot of "push" towards the wall. My brother's shocks did not look like that. They were at least an inch less compressed, if not more. That's a big difference. But my dad didn't know any better when I started racing, so he set my car up like he set up my brother's car. It took my brother driving my car, after I complained so much about it not driving right (and spinning out a few times), and him saying it felt fine for my dad to realize he couldn't set up our cars the same way.
In 2000, there was a little while where I raced Sr. Stock instead of Sr. Honda. I can't quite remember why this happened, but I wasn't too bad. My dad considered getting me another car to race, so I could do both classes, but he didn't want to be running 4 cars. By this time my brother was racing Lt. Mod and Lt. B. There was more competition in Sr. Honda, however, and I pressured my dad to let me go back to racing that class.
6.25.2010
Quarter Midgets: The Clubs, the Races and the Cars
Quarter midgets are raced across the US and in one part of Canada. Thousands of kids race these crazy things each year. As a result, you have to have some way to organize the kids. It's divided into 13 regions, generally matching up with the regions in the US.
Each of those black dots represent the location of a track. Each track is called a club. Recently, there has been a split in quarter midgets and they have divided into two programs. It's annoying b/c other than politics, they are the same. I point this out because the track near LA in CA is no longer there (and two in FL I think, wow). You'll also notice CA is divided into two regions. This division becomes very important later on when I discuss my friendships (as does this missing club), so please keep it in mind.
A club is responsible for governing itself and the size often determines how it will govern. A smaller club with 5 families or so will be more lax than a club with, say, 75 families. The club we were part of was big. Biggest in CA. It got a little annoying with how political it got at times, but groups of adults are bound to find something to fight over. Both my parents have held positions of authority, so we'd go to the monthly meetings held at a pizza place. My dad was president, VP twice, and county liaison at least 3 times. My mom was secretary, head of tower, and kept track of the points. Each club takes care of itself. The money from the snack shack goes into track repairs, upgrades for the stands, etc. It's all volunteer, I can't remember anyone getting paid to do anything at the track. The families become very close. So, naturally, your friends tend to be the ones from the same club as you.
Club races were the most common races, where you just raced against people in your own club. These days were shorter, and a few, elite, families would go out to dinner after. You strengthened your bonds here because when it came to the regional races, you didn't want to be alone.
My family only ran the regional series a few times. The regional series, like the 100-lapper series, didn't offer the most competition. That's not the say winning one of those championships wasn't prestigious, it just wasn't that fun. The days were long, and it seemed to be more club v. club than car v. car. It was the theory that if the other people in your club were successful, you were always racing against the best in the state and therefore were also good, even if you didn't do as well that particular time. It's like if a basketball team has only one good player, but they highlight him so much, the rest of the team just has to get the ball to him and they score a ton. It's okay! Just so long as your team wins! Your stats don't matter! Except, no one reallllly thinks that, right?
Car v. car was reserved for the Monza series. I thought of it as the all CA series, since we raced on every pavement quarter midget track in CA once in the series. Just five races, but it offered the most competition in the state, and often drew a few from Oregon and Arizona (my biggest competition in Lt. 160 came from a guy my age from Oregon). This is where the prestige was. This is where the biggest car counts were. This is where you went if you wanted to be the best in the state. And my brother and I managed to get our paws on a few of these.
When you get older, you start remembering who crashed into you, people who made mean comments about you behind your back. So you get them back on the track. You start branching out and becoming friends with people from other tracks - a personal example is a group of boys I called the Pomona Boys. So you work with them to better yourself, sometimes against your own club. And what happens at the Grand Nationals, the week long races during the summer, when you make friends with people across the country? What happens to your loyalties there?
Just like you have an affinity for someone who has the same kind of passenger car as you, if you drove the same type of quarter midget, you stuck together. I raced GT American, and the children of my parent's closest friends did as well. Until I was 12, maybe only 11, I stuck with my own kind, drivers in my own club, drivers of my own chassis. But that too with age dissipates, as there became no clear majority in my friends. Boomerang, Fiser, Nervos, it didn't matter as much as we got older.
What mattered was if you could win, and if you were a girl? If you could look good doing it.
A club is responsible for governing itself and the size often determines how it will govern. A smaller club with 5 families or so will be more lax than a club with, say, 75 families. The club we were part of was big. Biggest in CA. It got a little annoying with how political it got at times, but groups of adults are bound to find something to fight over. Both my parents have held positions of authority, so we'd go to the monthly meetings held at a pizza place. My dad was president, VP twice, and county liaison at least 3 times. My mom was secretary, head of tower, and kept track of the points. Each club takes care of itself. The money from the snack shack goes into track repairs, upgrades for the stands, etc. It's all volunteer, I can't remember anyone getting paid to do anything at the track. The families become very close. So, naturally, your friends tend to be the ones from the same club as you.
Club races were the most common races, where you just raced against people in your own club. These days were shorter, and a few, elite, families would go out to dinner after. You strengthened your bonds here because when it came to the regional races, you didn't want to be alone.
My family only ran the regional series a few times. The regional series, like the 100-lapper series, didn't offer the most competition. That's not the say winning one of those championships wasn't prestigious, it just wasn't that fun. The days were long, and it seemed to be more club v. club than car v. car. It was the theory that if the other people in your club were successful, you were always racing against the best in the state and therefore were also good, even if you didn't do as well that particular time. It's like if a basketball team has only one good player, but they highlight him so much, the rest of the team just has to get the ball to him and they score a ton. It's okay! Just so long as your team wins! Your stats don't matter! Except, no one reallllly thinks that, right?
Car v. car was reserved for the Monza series. I thought of it as the all CA series, since we raced on every pavement quarter midget track in CA once in the series. Just five races, but it offered the most competition in the state, and often drew a few from Oregon and Arizona (my biggest competition in Lt. 160 came from a guy my age from Oregon). This is where the prestige was. This is where the biggest car counts were. This is where you went if you wanted to be the best in the state. And my brother and I managed to get our paws on a few of these.
When you get older, you start remembering who crashed into you, people who made mean comments about you behind your back. So you get them back on the track. You start branching out and becoming friends with people from other tracks - a personal example is a group of boys I called the Pomona Boys. So you work with them to better yourself, sometimes against your own club. And what happens at the Grand Nationals, the week long races during the summer, when you make friends with people across the country? What happens to your loyalties there?
What mattered was if you could win, and if you were a girl? If you could look good doing it.
6.22.2010
Quarter Midgets: The Beginning
(Note: I love you guys so I'm going to try and find as many of my own photos as I can to help explain. Even if it means taking pictures of pictures because we don't have a functioning scanner. They're limited right now, b/c my mom is being a butt and isn't letting me search for old photos, but we'll make do. And if you're curious for more, you can check back later when I do get photos.)
I ice skated before I raced. Let's just get that out in the open right there. I started ice skating when I was 3. I started racing when I was 9.
My brother is two years younger than I am. When he was a couple months past 3, my parents took us to the county fair. They had those silly two-seater go-karts you could drive around the little track they set up in an unused parking lot. My brother rode with my dad, I with my mom. He fell in love with it and would not stop talking about racing. He wanted to race. Right at that moment. After a little bit of research, my dad figured out you could start racing these things called quarter midgets at 4 and a half. Well, start training to race them. You couldn't race anything besides a novice class until you turned 5 or, for those of us who joined after we were 5, until you had run 3 races in a novice class. We had my brother signed up for training when he was 4 and not long after his half birthday, he was being trained to race quarter midgets.
My family didn't go to our first national event until the summer my brother was 7 years old. I had a regional ice skating competition in the middle of the week long race. I didn't place, for the third competition in a row. I wasn't getting anywhere in ice skating, forced to make a decision to make it a hobby or truly pursue skating as a career. I quit and was in training for racing that fall.
My first quarter midget race was the Winter Nationals in Las Vegas. It's not actually a national event, as it mainly draws a specific group from CA, with a few friends from the surrounding states, but we call it such just the same. There's no actual track. The race is held in a parking lot, a track outlined by hay bales. It's moved casinos over the years, and it's not actually held in Vegas, but in Primm, about 30 minutes West, just inside of Nevada on I-15.
(This photo was taken 7 months later, but everything looks the same.) Anyway, that was my first race. There was only one other person in the Senior Novice class (you had to be 9 to race and senior class, he was 10). I qualified fast time (I was very good at qualifying) but was second in the heat and main. It's okay. I didn't know how to pass. They teach you that in training, but it's much different when the person doesn't actually want to be passed, you know? Just like with anything in sports. You can practice a move against your teammates, but it's always that much harder against someone who doesn't actually want the move to work.
By the time the above photo was taken, I had graduated novice and moved into Sr. Honda. That's when the real fun began.
My brother is two years younger than I am. When he was a couple months past 3, my parents took us to the county fair. They had those silly two-seater go-karts you could drive around the little track they set up in an unused parking lot. My brother rode with my dad, I with my mom. He fell in love with it and would not stop talking about racing. He wanted to race. Right at that moment. After a little bit of research, my dad figured out you could start racing these things called quarter midgets at 4 and a half. Well, start training to race them. You couldn't race anything besides a novice class until you turned 5 or, for those of us who joined after we were 5, until you had run 3 races in a novice class. We had my brother signed up for training when he was 4 and not long after his half birthday, he was being trained to race quarter midgets.
My family didn't go to our first national event until the summer my brother was 7 years old. I had a regional ice skating competition in the middle of the week long race. I didn't place, for the third competition in a row. I wasn't getting anywhere in ice skating, forced to make a decision to make it a hobby or truly pursue skating as a career. I quit and was in training for racing that fall.
By the time the above photo was taken, I had graduated novice and moved into Sr. Honda. That's when the real fun began.
Quarter Midgets: Extra Credit
Oh hi. I won this Hvy. B race and did a donut in the infield after because this was my last Monza race and I won. It's 4am where I am right this moment. I've been in shock at finding this video for the past 30 minutes, maybe more. I just searched quarter midget and Madera because that was my favorite track and I did well at it. This was the very first video to pop up.
OMGWTFBBQ. Good night. No more crazy things tonight, okay?
Quarter Midgets
I had a loverly post on here about revisiting my past that centered around my racing days and my friends and what I learned.
Then I got sidetracked looking up the insane crashes some of these kids have had.
Quarter midgets are...well. This.
Hi. I've done that. It's fun. It's scary. I raced mainly on pavement on tracks about 1/20th of a mile. Yeah. That small. And the slow classes hit about 30 mph whereas the quicker ones, well, we were about 55. Outside of a top fuel dragster, I bet these are the most Gs you will ever feel in racing. You can start at 5 years old. You stop at 16. Most stop the year they turn 13. They're called quarter midgets because they're roughly one quarter the size of a full midget. Those look like this.
Can you tell the size difference? Good. Now then. To make sure you know the size of a midget race car...my brother who is 6ft 2in, about 180lbs has a very difficult time fitting into a midget. His knees hit the steering wheel and, even after adjusting the seat to be as low as possible, his helmet will curve over the top.
Anyway, I guess I just wanted to explain to you how intense it was to be a girl in this sport. But when I found those videos, it linked me to another I'd love for you guys to watch.
I know it's a promotion for a movie, but I've been through these moments. I watched my brother chew on his glove before a race. I know what it's like to look into someone's eyes and see this completely different person who is just totally focused on the upcoming race. My parents have lectured me and my brother about working together. My dad would hang on to those chain link fences and circle around with us. My mom dropped the video camera when she was filming my brother's first flip. I could have made this documentary.
And I can explain what it was like, growing up a girl in this world. And that is what we're going to focus on the rest of this week.
Then I got sidetracked looking up the insane crashes some of these kids have had.
Quarter midgets are...well. This.
Hi. I've done that. It's fun. It's scary. I raced mainly on pavement on tracks about 1/20th of a mile. Yeah. That small. And the slow classes hit about 30 mph whereas the quicker ones, well, we were about 55. Outside of a top fuel dragster, I bet these are the most Gs you will ever feel in racing. You can start at 5 years old. You stop at 16. Most stop the year they turn 13. They're called quarter midgets because they're roughly one quarter the size of a full midget. Those look like this.
Anyway, I guess I just wanted to explain to you how intense it was to be a girl in this sport. But when I found those videos, it linked me to another I'd love for you guys to watch.
I know it's a promotion for a movie, but I've been through these moments. I watched my brother chew on his glove before a race. I know what it's like to look into someone's eyes and see this completely different person who is just totally focused on the upcoming race. My parents have lectured me and my brother about working together. My dad would hang on to those chain link fences and circle around with us. My mom dropped the video camera when she was filming my brother's first flip. I could have made this documentary.
And I can explain what it was like, growing up a girl in this world. And that is what we're going to focus on the rest of this week.
6.17.2010
Feed Me!
I am the epitome of pathetic single living right here. Seriously, I doubt I would have even gotten dressed today had I not had training at the Humane Society and even then I just threw on jeans instead of sweatpants. Go me.
But what really, and I mean REALLY, sealed the deal for me was when I went to the grocery store. We have no food in this house. Now, my family is gone racing tonight and I couldn't go b/c I had that training. No one, not even my dogs, are here. It's me and the rabbit. And I'm not eating him. So my mom left me some money and told me to get myself some food.
I picked up a couple of Lean Cuisines and a pint of mango sorbet. And some gummy bears, but they were only a dollar and I swear Kroger (Gerbes for you Missouri folk) has the best freaking gummy bears on this planet.
Okay. Just consider that last sentence. I feel the need to qualify my purchase of dollar gummy bears.
So yeah. Basically I sit around and eat and play video games and occasionally get off my butt and go somewhere. My summer's going well, how about you? >.>
(It actually is going well. I've been having a lot of fun. I'm just making fun of myself. Carry on.)
But what really, and I mean REALLY, sealed the deal for me was when I went to the grocery store. We have no food in this house. Now, my family is gone racing tonight and I couldn't go b/c I had that training. No one, not even my dogs, are here. It's me and the rabbit. And I'm not eating him. So my mom left me some money and told me to get myself some food.
I picked up a couple of Lean Cuisines and a pint of mango sorbet. And some gummy bears, but they were only a dollar and I swear Kroger (Gerbes for you Missouri folk) has the best freaking gummy bears on this planet.
Okay. Just consider that last sentence. I feel the need to qualify my purchase of dollar gummy bears.
So yeah. Basically I sit around and eat and play video games and occasionally get off my butt and go somewhere. My summer's going well, how about you? >.>
(It actually is going well. I've been having a lot of fun. I'm just making fun of myself. Carry on.)
6.16.2010
No thanks, I'm just looking
I've been out and about a lot the past few days, interacting with a lot of people. And I've been noticing a lot of people looking at me. Maybe it's been my outfits - either totally cute or totally chill. We're talking tank tops with boobage and skinnier jeans or guy style shirt with shorts.
And here's the thing, it's not been just the casual "Oh, I'm just looking around" it's been dead on eye contact. It's starting to freak me out. But in a good way too. I'm still a girl, after all.
It started with Blader. He was roller blading. I was walking my woofs (I call the family dogs my woofs). He passed by twice. Smiled at me both times. I saw him a bit later. He was sitting on a bench, catching his breath. He looked up and smiled at me again. Now, when someone is that friendly I smile back and assume I know them. But I was given three chances to look at Blader and I am certain I do not know him. We perhaps went to high school together, but I don't think he was my year and I know we did not share any classes.
I recently went to lunch with two friends from high school (I'm reconnecting, isn't that nice? I'll write a post about it as more develops). We met at a local mall, had a long lunch and caught up, gossiped a lot, then walked around. Twice my friends pointed out that a guy was looking at me. I joked back that since there are three cute girls and we're being rather loud, he could be looking at any of us, but they were certain it was me. I don't have proof, and prefer to think that they were just trying to make me feel good about myself.
I went to Ball State the other day to meet with an advisor. I arrived and parked near a residence hall. A group of guys were walking back from a class. A tall brown haired guy looked at me. Maybe it was because I looked lost. I tilt my head and smile a bit. He grins.
Tomorrow I go to the humane society for my group training. We'll see if the staring continues.
And here's the thing, it's not been just the casual "Oh, I'm just looking around" it's been dead on eye contact. It's starting to freak me out. But in a good way too. I'm still a girl, after all.
It started with Blader. He was roller blading. I was walking my woofs (I call the family dogs my woofs). He passed by twice. Smiled at me both times. I saw him a bit later. He was sitting on a bench, catching his breath. He looked up and smiled at me again. Now, when someone is that friendly I smile back and assume I know them. But I was given three chances to look at Blader and I am certain I do not know him. We perhaps went to high school together, but I don't think he was my year and I know we did not share any classes.
I recently went to lunch with two friends from high school (I'm reconnecting, isn't that nice? I'll write a post about it as more develops). We met at a local mall, had a long lunch and caught up, gossiped a lot, then walked around. Twice my friends pointed out that a guy was looking at me. I joked back that since there are three cute girls and we're being rather loud, he could be looking at any of us, but they were certain it was me. I don't have proof, and prefer to think that they were just trying to make me feel good about myself.
I went to Ball State the other day to meet with an advisor. I arrived and parked near a residence hall. A group of guys were walking back from a class. A tall brown haired guy looked at me. Maybe it was because I looked lost. I tilt my head and smile a bit. He grins.
Tomorrow I go to the humane society for my group training. We'll see if the staring continues.
6.11.2010
Killers = a preview of my life?
I don't usually do movie reviews. I actually don't consider this a review. But sometimes the premises of movies are just too darn close to what's happening in your life, you have to talk about it. And, keep in mind, this is all "tongue in cheek," if you will. If you plan on watching this movie, please don't read further than this paragraph. It's a decent movie, it's not exactly as it seems if you've seen the TV commercials, it's predicable and there are poorly scripted moments. I didn't go in expecting more. Now please stop reading if you wish to avoid spoilers (though it's really only the first fifteen minutes).
Hi. I'm A. I was recently dumped by my geek boyfriend who is less attractive than me because he cheated on me and didn't want to deal with that guilt. It's also my one deal breaker. And K and I tested quite a few I thought would be, so I can say that with a bit of certainty.
The girl in the movie is Jen (played by the oh so pretty blonde Katherine Heigl). She was recently dumped by her less attractive (yeah, not difficult for her) geek boyfriend because she caught him cheating on her. It's a little subtle. I didn't catch it until my mom and her best friend pointed it out after the movie. But apparently it's there. The cheating, I mean. The rest is blatantly obvious.
Jen goes on a vacation with her parents in France and happens upon hot spy (played by Ashton Kutcher). (No picture needed. Just embrace the hotness.) Of course, he can't tell her he's a spy, they fall in love, he gets out of the business, they get married, yadda yadda yadda....enter the storyline you imagined from the previews. It gets a little like Hot Fuzz at times.
So basically my point here is that I should die my hair blonde and go on a trip to France with my parents to find this sexy little guy (double points if you know who this is). But I forgot. If we're going by his show, I'd have to be the spy. Darn. At least I can move well in heels? Because, well, you know, his girl is always in heels...? Oh nevermind, I'm just making jokes no one will understand.
Just know this. I'm happy today. I haven't been happy the past two days. And with a little luck, this will continue through the weekend and into next week.
Jen goes on a vacation with her parents in France and happens upon hot spy (played by Ashton Kutcher). (No picture needed. Just embrace the hotness.) Of course, he can't tell her he's a spy, they fall in love, he gets out of the business, they get married, yadda yadda yadda....enter the storyline you imagined from the previews. It gets a little like Hot Fuzz at times.
Just know this. I'm happy today. I haven't been happy the past two days. And with a little luck, this will continue through the weekend and into next week.
Home Body
You know the thing I probably miss the most about apartment living? I had a TV in my room. I also really miss the food I ate, but that's another post. When I had a TV in my room, I didn't have to worry about bothering other people when I wanted to watch my food shows or the Disney Channel or the latest sappy movie on Oxygen or Bravo or whatever. I could play Fallout 3 or Twilight Princess for HOURS on end, ignoring my homework and no one would bother me.
You can't do that here. There's too many other people. You can't fall asleep warm in your bed with the TV glowing from across the room. You can bring a blanket downstairs and sleep on the comfy couches if you really want, but it's not the same as your bed. You can't spend the day in your room without people bothering you every hour. They're going here, they're going there, feed the dogs, take the dogs out, make sure to pick up this for me. I liked being responsible for myself. Here I feel like I'm being babysat. Or maybe I'm doing the babysitting. I run the errands. That's what I do.
On the other hand, I like being in a familiar place, especially now. It's strange though that I also take so much comfort from going new places, experiencing new things. Especially now. J once called me a walking contradiction, and I've come to see that it really applies to me. Part of me wants to curl up in my bed for days and cope with this. But another part of me says to hell with it all, let's go somewhere. Let's get out of here. Let's go do something new and exciting (apparently I like to use plurals when telling myself to do things). I have this need to take myself out of the known, to make me uncomfortable in order to cope with things.
Does this make sense to you guys? Do you classify yourself as a home body, but then when something, anything, goes wrong, feel the need to get away from anything, everything, familiar? I felt this way when K died. I knew I'd be able to handle going to her funeral, but I just wanted to get away, leave, stay in Utah and ski for the rest of the school year. That was my immediate reaction. Have any of you reacted like me before?
You can't do that here. There's too many other people. You can't fall asleep warm in your bed with the TV glowing from across the room. You can bring a blanket downstairs and sleep on the comfy couches if you really want, but it's not the same as your bed. You can't spend the day in your room without people bothering you every hour. They're going here, they're going there, feed the dogs, take the dogs out, make sure to pick up this for me. I liked being responsible for myself. Here I feel like I'm being babysat. Or maybe I'm doing the babysitting. I run the errands. That's what I do.
On the other hand, I like being in a familiar place, especially now. It's strange though that I also take so much comfort from going new places, experiencing new things. Especially now. J once called me a walking contradiction, and I've come to see that it really applies to me. Part of me wants to curl up in my bed for days and cope with this. But another part of me says to hell with it all, let's go somewhere. Let's get out of here. Let's go do something new and exciting (apparently I like to use plurals when telling myself to do things). I have this need to take myself out of the known, to make me uncomfortable in order to cope with things.
Does this make sense to you guys? Do you classify yourself as a home body, but then when something, anything, goes wrong, feel the need to get away from anything, everything, familiar? I felt this way when K died. I knew I'd be able to handle going to her funeral, but I just wanted to get away, leave, stay in Utah and ski for the rest of the school year. That was my immediate reaction. Have any of you reacted like me before?
6.08.2010
And Moving On... (part 2)
I had a very lengthy two part post explaining what went down over the weekend, and then I realized I didn't want to reveal that much. Well that, and everything I had to say can be summed up in slightly less than a decent paragraph.
K first told me that I should forget about him via text. I bothered him about it until he told me he didn't love me anymore. I dealt with that, but texted him the next day because I still felt something wasn't right about the break up. It then was revealed that K cheated on me, twice, with intentions to do it again. And I don't mean drunken make-outs. This boy knew what he was doing. Sunday night to almost 6am Monday morning we talked online. It was, and will be, our last conversation.
I am okay. I am hurt, but I know nothing that happened was my fault. I do not wish K ill overall, though I have moments where I come close to hatred. I've considered escaping, getting away. But there's nothing to face. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't have any guilt, I don't have any regrets.
Hey, I told you guys this year was going to shape me. I'm starting volunteering at the Humane Society soon. I've emailed the person in charge of the whitewater and backpacking trip to see if they have availability in July. I've basically decided on Ball State...I think I have to decide to attend before they'll let me know how delayed my graduation will be. If a ton of my credits don't transfer, I'll go back to Mizzou. That is what this hinges on. I am not spending more than 5 years in college, unless I get some sort of graduate degree. Which I am not planning on.
If you have messages regarding K, feel free to email or otherwise contact me, but don't leave it in the comments. Anything else you wanna comment on, feel free. But let's not get public with the inevitable hate-fest, yeah?
K first told me that I should forget about him via text. I bothered him about it until he told me he didn't love me anymore. I dealt with that, but texted him the next day because I still felt something wasn't right about the break up. It then was revealed that K cheated on me, twice, with intentions to do it again. And I don't mean drunken make-outs. This boy knew what he was doing. Sunday night to almost 6am Monday morning we talked online. It was, and will be, our last conversation.
I am okay. I am hurt, but I know nothing that happened was my fault. I do not wish K ill overall, though I have moments where I come close to hatred. I've considered escaping, getting away. But there's nothing to face. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't have any guilt, I don't have any regrets.
Hey, I told you guys this year was going to shape me. I'm starting volunteering at the Humane Society soon. I've emailed the person in charge of the whitewater and backpacking trip to see if they have availability in July. I've basically decided on Ball State...I think I have to decide to attend before they'll let me know how delayed my graduation will be. If a ton of my credits don't transfer, I'll go back to Mizzou. That is what this hinges on. I am not spending more than 5 years in college, unless I get some sort of graduate degree. Which I am not planning on.
If you have messages regarding K, feel free to email or otherwise contact me, but don't leave it in the comments. Anything else you wanna comment on, feel free. But let's not get public with the inevitable hate-fest, yeah?
6.01.2010
Facebook First Impressions
This is why I hate Facebook. I see all these pictures of people I don't know and I make assumptions.
Like a racing family friend's son's girlfriend. I don't know her. Never will. I see the son maybe a couple times a year when/if he comes out to race. But his mom posted pictures of the girlfriend's senior prom (the son is graduated) on Facebook and I looked through them and I formed opinions of her. Very negative opinions. I refrained from clicking on her page because I fear it will only make things worse. And it would. I'd have a whole new set of opinions on this girl I will never meet. I already view this girl as snobby, average intelligence, needing a nose job, probably slutty, and annoying. And here's the thing, I can prove most those wrong right now. She's not snobby or else the mom wouldn't rave about her to my mom. She doesn't need a nose job at all. She's not wearing anything to make me think she would be promiscuous and she has been dating this boy for over a year. She's probably not an airhead b/c the boy went through his phase of those (each one lasted about 2 weeks). I can't say anything to her intelligence, though if I went to her Facebook page I'm sure I could find her college (or lack thereof) and have new opinions of her! Even if the two get married and my family is invited (as I suspect will someday happen, the families are insanely close), I probably won't attend and will never meet this girl. So why is it that I can have opinions of her just from seeing the standard photos taken before prom?
It's why I like meeting people in person much better. My brother graduated yesterday and after graduation we had a barbecue at our house. Steak, not pork - for some reason people out here think pork when you say bbq. Out West we do things up all fancy like, I guess. I digress. It was small, family and racing based. My mom's best friend showed up. My aunt and uncle were visiting. Our crew chief brought his two year old son (his wife showed up after her nursing shift). Then there's B. B is loud, loves to eat and is always telling funny stories. He stayed at our house for 3 weeks back when I was in high school. He was in the middle of choosing a school out here, racing, and looking for a house. Our family became close. B brought his friend in the same program, G to the bbq. First impression wasn't good. But I let it be pushed aside when I realized how similar he and I were. He spent the first 20 minutes at my house outside talking on his phone. Major choices aside (he's motorsports and electrical engineering, plus CS minor), he reminded me of myself. At first he was shy, let B do all the talking, but slowly broke out of his shell as we hit on topics he could relate to. The EE comment came after my brother saying he was on the robotics team for the high school. His CS minor prompted a small discussion about Mac v. Windows which led to Steam/Valve which led to should I un-partition my laptop. When he heard my brother's text alert (Navi's "hey! listen!"), he played his FFVII battle ringtone. I played my Portal ringtone. He was able to hold his own about the Gulf Coast against my aunt, who is so opinionated she drives ME crazy.
But had I just been given G's Facebook page? I totally would have brushed him off. He's friends with B which makes me a little hesitant - B is so overwhelming, someone with my personality gets freaked out sometimes. And G's page makes him look like a douche (I'm not friends with him, stop looking right now people, I'm allowed to stalk him to prove this experiment) who is just going to college because his parents made him. He likes country music, an immediate dislike in my book, and does an incredible job of hiding his nerdiness which makes him come off as a frat boy/jock.
So what do you guys think? Do you friend people you don't really know? Maybe you met at a party and talked for just five minutes and friended them (or were friended) after. Or maybe they're your boyfriend's cousin's boyfriend (true story). Do you form new opinions of them after looking at their Facebook page that you just can't drop, even if you can reasonably justify the opinions as false?
Like a racing family friend's son's girlfriend. I don't know her. Never will. I see the son maybe a couple times a year when/if he comes out to race. But his mom posted pictures of the girlfriend's senior prom (the son is graduated) on Facebook and I looked through them and I formed opinions of her. Very negative opinions. I refrained from clicking on her page because I fear it will only make things worse. And it would. I'd have a whole new set of opinions on this girl I will never meet. I already view this girl as snobby, average intelligence, needing a nose job, probably slutty, and annoying. And here's the thing, I can prove most those wrong right now. She's not snobby or else the mom wouldn't rave about her to my mom. She doesn't need a nose job at all. She's not wearing anything to make me think she would be promiscuous and she has been dating this boy for over a year. She's probably not an airhead b/c the boy went through his phase of those (each one lasted about 2 weeks). I can't say anything to her intelligence, though if I went to her Facebook page I'm sure I could find her college (or lack thereof) and have new opinions of her! Even if the two get married and my family is invited (as I suspect will someday happen, the families are insanely close), I probably won't attend and will never meet this girl. So why is it that I can have opinions of her just from seeing the standard photos taken before prom?
It's why I like meeting people in person much better. My brother graduated yesterday and after graduation we had a barbecue at our house. Steak, not pork - for some reason people out here think pork when you say bbq. Out West we do things up all fancy like, I guess. I digress. It was small, family and racing based. My mom's best friend showed up. My aunt and uncle were visiting. Our crew chief brought his two year old son (his wife showed up after her nursing shift). Then there's B. B is loud, loves to eat and is always telling funny stories. He stayed at our house for 3 weeks back when I was in high school. He was in the middle of choosing a school out here, racing, and looking for a house. Our family became close. B brought his friend in the same program, G to the bbq. First impression wasn't good. But I let it be pushed aside when I realized how similar he and I were. He spent the first 20 minutes at my house outside talking on his phone. Major choices aside (he's motorsports and electrical engineering, plus CS minor), he reminded me of myself. At first he was shy, let B do all the talking, but slowly broke out of his shell as we hit on topics he could relate to. The EE comment came after my brother saying he was on the robotics team for the high school. His CS minor prompted a small discussion about Mac v. Windows which led to Steam/Valve which led to should I un-partition my laptop. When he heard my brother's text alert (Navi's "hey! listen!"), he played his FFVII battle ringtone. I played my Portal ringtone. He was able to hold his own about the Gulf Coast against my aunt, who is so opinionated she drives ME crazy.
But had I just been given G's Facebook page? I totally would have brushed him off. He's friends with B which makes me a little hesitant - B is so overwhelming, someone with my personality gets freaked out sometimes. And G's page makes him look like a douche (I'm not friends with him, stop looking right now people, I'm allowed to stalk him to prove this experiment) who is just going to college because his parents made him. He likes country music, an immediate dislike in my book, and does an incredible job of hiding his nerdiness which makes him come off as a frat boy/jock.
So what do you guys think? Do you friend people you don't really know? Maybe you met at a party and talked for just five minutes and friended them (or were friended) after. Or maybe they're your boyfriend's cousin's boyfriend (true story). Do you form new opinions of them after looking at their Facebook page that you just can't drop, even if you can reasonably justify the opinions as false?
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