Right now. I am at the single lowest point I’ve ever been the past 4 years. I have a lawyer to keep me out of jail for reckless and imprudent driving. I just quit my job, which I was on the verge of getting fired from anyway. I don’t have a job. I am failing a class, and have a D in another. I have thoroughly and fully failed this semrster. I owe $4000 dollars over the next 2 months. My car is ruined. The vinyl stripe was ripped off in the car wash, which still hasn’t filed the paperwork to pay for it. I have 980$ stolen from my debit card 2 weeks ago, and as of now, I still may have to wait a month to get it back. My failing grade is a 49%… I may not be able to fix it. I am falling apart. My girlfriend? She’s gone from being a warm reassurance in my life to a cold indiffirent stone. Everything between us feels forced and fake. Never have I ever been this low, sad, and depressed. I am truly on the verge of giving up hope. I haven’t applied for any colleges. I want to take a semester off, but I fear I’ll never go back. You know what’s interesting? Over the past 4 months emotions got the best of me. I invested all my time, and effort into emotion. For the past 4 years I have invested all my time, and effort to emotion. And now, it has left me miserable and hopeless. I’m writing this in samsung memos. I’m sitting in my car listening to xxxtenacion in the Chuck E. Cheese parkinglot. I am supposed to work in 40 minutes. I have tears in my eyes. I truly have become what I feared. What society fears. What I tried to block out. What I convinced myself I wasn’t. What I told myself I wasn’t. I have to appeal to get credits in first hour becauae of my abscences. I have become a failure to my family, to me, to my peers. I need a new chapter. Far away from this parkinglot. Far away from this city, from this state. Somewhere to start fresh… I’ve put up my optimistic facade for too long.
So this is going to be a semi-rant about my dad. Look, I love my dad, he’s a great guy. Don’t get me wrong, he has been one of the most inspirational, and influential people in my life. He constantly pushes me past my boundaries, and encourages me to expand my life. Despite all this, he dose the dumbest stuff sometimes. To understand where I’m going with this, I’ll need to give you all a teeny bit of background on my dad first. Like many people his age, he’s developing some medical issues. High blood sugar, high blood pressure, type two diabetes. My dad isn’t the healthiest in the pack, but he’s still better than a lot of people. He’s really trying his best to get his weight down, and I have to respect him for that. He’s lost thirty pounds over the past year. Works out nearly everyday. Definitely made a lot of progress. Now you may be wondering:
“Blake, that’s not a teeny bit. You just gave me a brief outline of your dad’s medical history. What the hell does this have to do with him getting a blog?”
Well audience, fear not! I’m getting to that. Do I have have an audience at this point? Eh. Probably not. Whatever.
Anyway, in addition to this, my dad has been out of town on business a lot recently. Specifically in some not too kind parts of Detroit and Chicago. So basically, here’s what happens. I’m sitting there in 6th hour AP United States History. Trying to learn, take notes and study. Unfortunately for me I sit right below the clock, so checking the time without inducing self-paralysis is relatively difficult. So, I did what any senior with stage three senioritis would do in high-school. I whipped out my phone to see that reassuring 1:46 time stamp greeting me. Although, I noticed something else too.
14 Missed Text messages. All from Jeffery Davis.
At first my reaction is along the lines of “Oh shit”. It’s not like my Dad to send a boat load of texts. Did he find the condom in my trash from this weekend? Did he get shot or mugged out in Detroit? Is he doing Heroin in Detroit? Did he have some sort of medical emergency? Was he in the hospital? Did he need me to call Mom?
This frenzy of worst possible scenarios run through my head initially. I frantically unlock my phone and open them. They read something along the lines of:
“Almost at gate.”
“Nice city skyline.”
“Wow, check out this car service I got. I’m in the back of this new BMW 7 – series and they have these really cool puddle lights that shine when you open the door. I wish my car had these.”
“I feel like they’re copying Audi and Mercedes or something”
“No seriously, check this out”
“Ok, so did you know the guitar rift in my Sharona at the 2:40 mark is really really good? I mean really good”
“I’m serious Blake”
“Google this, it’s super good. Like the best of all time”
“What kind of music do you listen to anyway? I hardly ask you about stuff like that.”
“Blake have you heard it yet?”
“Why aren’t you responding? Is it the puddle lamp thing? I’m sorry.”
Look. Dad. You’re great. You need friends though. Or at least a place you can organize all this crap. I didn’t respond because my phone is on silent and I’m in class. Get a blog. That’s my wrap.
Well I haven’t posted here in a while. Today I’m going to be talking about one of the cooler things that happened to me over the course of spring break. Over at the Gateway track in Illinois, they host an event known as Midnight madness. This basically consists of two main events, that any car that passes tech inspection can enter:
- Drag Racing
Needless to say, I went with a couple of my friends and attended the Drag racing event. I actually raced my car in it too. My goal was to get a quarter-mile under 13 seconds. On my first pass, my reaction time totaled a whole second from when the light went green to when my car started moving. I just remember being so scared on my first pass. Thankfully I had a friend of mine in the passenger seat to show me tips and give me some pointers. I was racing a cammed fox-body mustang on drag slicks. I was sure he’d smoke me. The guy in there looked like he had done this a million times and I was just another defeated opponent. Initially I was beat off the line. I started to catch up around the 1/8th mile. I was shifting early into the next gear out of fear of blowing my motor or hitting the limiter. Around the 1/8 mile mark I passed him up, coming across the line in the span of only 13.1 seconds. Not bad for my first ever run. Even my friend was surprised.
The next run I went up against a Volkswagen TDI hatchback. I had him off the line and everything. By this time my reaction time was only .5 a second, however, I become over-confident and bounced off the limiter in 3rd gear. That long gear shift took my an extra .1 seconds or so, costing me a 13.2 quarter time. Around this time I told my friend to get out of the car, seeing if him weighing me down had any effect on my times.
The next run I had the best run of that entire night. I put down a 12.821 at 113mph. I was racing a RAM 1500 pickup truck. He did well, he had a 5.7 Hemi under the hood. However, he ran a 15 second quarter-mile proving to be no match.
The next run after this was my most embarrassing of the night. Upon moving up to the line, I was past the pre-stage lights. I reversed, attempting to re-align myself with the secondary pre-stage light. Unbeknownst to me at the time the track officials had already initiated the countdown. By the time the second pre-stage light lit up, a full 2 seconds had passed since the staging light went green. I rapidly attempted to put my car into gear, and by this time, the silverado I was racing was far ahead of me. However, after getting my car into gear, I still put down a 13.2 second quarter and even beat the silverado by the 1,000 foot mark.
The next run was my first loss of the entire night. I was racing a E55 AMG, with a supercharger and Hoosier drag radials. Try as I might, his launch was simply too good, and too fast compared to mine. I ran a respectable 12.9 and he easily put down a 12.7. Upon the race ending, I drove over to him and asked:
“What’s all done to it?”
“Don’t feel bad, I just had her tuned by euro-charged performance, and put fat drag radials on her.”
That made me feel a bit better upon my first loss of the night. Then again, I lost to a car that MSRP-ed at 120 grand when new, as opposed to my measly 30 grand.
My next run was especially unique. I had seen a Chrysler 300 SRT8 at the tech inspection lane on my first pass. I figured that if he had a 6.4 liter SRT8, we’d both be running similar times, thus making for a close, interesting, and fun race. I called him out. I opened up my helmet visor, pointing at him asking
“You want to race?”
He replied with a swift:
After configuring our spots in line, we raced each other. He had me off the line up until about the 1/8th mile, and then I began to pull ahead. I put down a 12.860 on my pass, and he, a 13.5. Apparently, the SRT8 had no power in the top end of the quarter-mile. Upon recieving our time stamps, I inquired him on the size of his engine. Evidently, he was only racing a 6.1 Hemi, instead of the 6.4 liter monster that was in the new SRT8s. Regardless, he put a great fight, and it was a close race.
My final race that night was a great one. For the other guy. It was pretty wild to. Just before the starting line, another 5.0 S197 mustang pulls up next to me. It’s the last pass of the night at gateway before the drag plex is closed down. Finally, someone with a comporable car to me. Then at the last minute, the passanger door opens. A 12 year old kid hops out, and with glee prances over to the now open driver side door. Oh Great. He’s letting his kid drive. Piece of cake. Little did I know, this wasn’t just any kid, or any 5.0 S197. The car itself was on Mickey Thompson Drag Radial tires, and was modified with a 100 shot of nitirous. I didn’t stand a chance. The kid beat me off the line, and stayed ahead until the end of the race. He put down a 12.6, and I, a measly 12.9. As he got out, his dad and mom both hugged and congratulated him. Interesting. I guess you don’t see that everynight. I drove home, happy, yet determined to do better.
You know what I find difficult do? Shopping. For anything for that matter. Do I want this one or this one? Do these jeans look good on me? This car or this one? Why? Why is shopping, specifically for non-functionality items so difficult for me?
I think I might know why. Non-functionality items; Clothes, Cars, Backpacks, Phones, Cases, Ect. are intended to some extent to be an extension to the users personality.
“Do you like this shirt Blake?”
Is typically followed up with a swift:
“I don’t know.”
Why? Because I don’t. I don’t know who I am. What I am? Where I am going? What I’m doing? I feel apathetic. People ask me what my interests are and such I reply with nothing. I don’t like anything.
I have nothing to look forward to.
I have nothing that I want to do.
I have nothing I want to be.
I feel like this is something that all highschoolers struggle with, but I feel for me that It’s been more prevalent. More crippling so to speak. Eh, I’m just rambling. I’ve just never know who I am. Not only that, but I’m so many different things around different people. I feel like I’m just very lost. I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I already double posted. Ugh. I’m a mess.
I’m stopping the Hello again thing. It feels so forced, dumb and stupid. I don’t want tot continue to lie. It’s fucking stupid. I’m fucking upset.
I made a decision last night, which I might regret. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make in recent memory. I told Kristina I couldn’t keep doing this. I didn’t end our relationship or anything. I really couldn’t do that. I couldn’t afford that. It would be too emotionally taxing to me. I planned to see her once and hookup or whatever the hell I thought. I didn’t plan for me to actually like her. A lot. goddamnit. I don’t even know why I’m typing this. Especially on a class blog. I guess it does occupy my mind though.
Is that not fair? To just say whatever’s on my mind?
Whatever. I told her that I can’t keep sneaking her around to see her. I can’t keep lying to people to see here. I can’t keep doing these stupid elaborate schemes just to see her for like one fucking hour. I can’t keep doing this. It’s dysfunctional. When I wanted a girlfriend, I wanted a girl who I could just see without all this complicated shit. I didn’t know I was getting into this when I replied to what she asked. Fuck. I told her that there’s two options: We keep doing this, and get caught eventually, and the longer we do this the worse the repercussions will be or two: She just tells her parents. I get it. I understand it. Her mom’s a control freak. she tracks her phone. She doesn’t want her hanging out with guys. Her past is shaky. She’s lied. She’s been caught. Her mom doesn’t like me. I GET IT. I just want her to tell her mom. That’s all. If she could afford me that much decency.
“Oh Blake it’ll make it harder.”
Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. You aren’t even transparent enough for me to know what I’m asking you to do dammit. I don’t even want to do other stuff with you or anything. Just hang out. Like why lie? Most of the stuff we’ve done hasn’t even been risqué or anything. It’s ridiculous.
So that’s that. I told her point-blank if she doesn’t tell her mom, I’ll have to leave her before we both get hurt. I mean… I already am. Dammit.
I’m sorry I’m cussing so much. It’s unlike me. I’m not myself right now though. I need to just relax and take some me time. I’m fine really. Like I don’t do any self-destructive stuff. That’s unlike me.
Today I’d like to pose a question to my readers: What do employers/authoritarian figures value more? Transparency, or perfection?
I’m asking this because of all those vaguely worded personality testes that job seeking now days entails. They usually include questions with no true answers, and deal with balancing the amount of transparency, or accountability someone may have when owning up to potential job related mistakes, with the idea of perfection, or not creating mistakes in the first place. Yes, I realize that perfection is impossible, we all do. However, do employers realize this? When we write our resumes, we obviously tend to advertise our strengths over weaknesses. It’s a no brainer. We like to advertise ourselves.Show ourselves off. All of our achievements, ect, ect. Obviously. This is what gets jobs. However, at the same time, do you we want to be more transparent with our mistakes, and our learning experiences from them? Let’s say I was to put something like that on a resume. Would that prevent me from getting the job. I’m willing to bet that it would. However, would it make more qualified? Let’s say I’ve made this mistake already, and the next guy, who didn’t have the experience, hasn’t yet made this mistake. Would the fact I’ve done this and learned from it make me more preferable than the other guy? Just something to think about. I need to write in here more. I know these are some useless like ramblings and what not, but perhaps someone may find them interesting.