March 31, 2011

Utah

Hey guys.

Well, for starters, nobody got hurt, except for one fall I had and landed on my neck. Nothing broken, just a little stiff and sore.

My dad and I drove out last Tuesday night, leaving around 7:30. Long, relatively boring drive. I drove for the first 12 hours, and then my dad did the last 6 or so. We rolled into Salt Lake at about 2 PM mountain time. Basically spent the rest of the day sleeping.

Thursday was our first day of skiing. My grandpa showed up the day before, just a little after we got there. Then my uncle Bruce got in that evening from Seattle.

It was snowing up in the mountains, which made for better skiing, but poor visibility. After getting Bruce set up with his monoski, we took off. I must say, I was very impressed with his abilities. He made it look so easy. Like it took no effort for him. But it obviously did, because he only lasted 2 runs, as did my grandpa. He was also really impressive on the hills. Granted, he wasn't going very fast or doing anything too hard, but just the fact that he was out there, in good form, under control at 82 is pretty damn cool.

Now, for those of you that haven't skied before, 2 runs might not sound like a lot. But when you're in the mountains it is. Around my house 2 runs would last maybe 3 minutes without the chairlift time. But out there each run lasts at least half an hour before you get back to the bottom, so it's pretty intense.

The crappy visibility.



Bruce tearing up the hills.



My Grandpa doing his thing.



My uncle Keith following Bruce. (Keith is telemark skiing, by the way)



The whole group (minus Keith's kids, who were somewhere else on the mountain.)



Me shredding it up.



Unfortunately, there weren't many pictures of my dad, since he was taking them all. But this one is cool.



And finally, my view everyday. (From Keith's house)(Yes, that's me playing guitar)



Anyways, Thursday night my grandpa did a little presentation about where our ancestors came from. It was very well researched and presented. Although a little boring for me, until I started to know some people he was talking about. It was kind of hard to get interested in people from the 1800's that I've never heard of. But it was cool to learn more about my Grandpa's parents and grandparents.

Friday and Saturday were pretty much repeats of Thursday on the hill. Not much visibility. Although Saturday morning it was sunny, but around lunchtime it got cloudy and started snowing again. I think over the three days we skied, they got around 25 inches of snow at the mountain.

Now, I realized I never really talked about my uncle Keith in my last post. He's a very...intense guy. Try to picture the Marlboro Man, on meth (and smoking Winston's, since Keith only smokes Winston's). He's an ex-cocaine addict, a retired race car driver, been a ski bum for his entire life, and works as ski patrol at Snowbird (as well as about 15 other jobs. He runs the water treatment plant for Snowbird/Alta, something with the fire department at the Bird, and a bunch of other things that I don't know). He's always been balls to the wall, go big or go home kind of guy. Not exactly what I wanted to be around while skiing. But he was incredibly gentle the whole week. He stayed with Bruce the entire time, encouraging him, and making sure he didn't get hurt. He never made any of us do something we weren't comfortable with. It was a nice surprise. The whole trip it seemed like I was seeing a different side of him that I'd never seen.

That being said, on Thursday he made my dad and I go on the 'work tram'. Basically, the last tram that goes up the mountain for 'normal' people, is at 3:45. Then, around 4:15, a group of ski patrol go up and start the 'sweep' of the mountain, making sure everyone is off the hill. I'd never done this before, so it was exciting. But since it was the first day, and the first time in a while since my dad and I had skied on a real mountain, we were dead tired and just wanted to go home. But no. We went up, and then started skiing down all the hard stuff that Keith wouldn't go on with Bruce and my Grandpa. The skiing was great, and being the only two people on the mountain in view, probably a total of 15 people on the whole mountain, it was intense. I've never seen it that empty before.

Normally, when they find someone still on the hill, they make sure they're ok, and then send them on their way, so the patrol is always the last one down. But since my uncle is a ski patrol, the rest of the guys left us behind, so we were literally the last people on the mountain for the day. It was awesome! Once we made it down though, I could hardly walk my legs were so sore.

Anyways, we left on Sunday morning, around 11:30 mountain time. We decided we were going to stop in Thermopolis, Wyoming to go swimming in the hot springs and relax in the hot tubs. It was about a 6 hour drive from Keith's house to the hot springs, which we spent listening to music and talking about whatever. I'd thought about telling my dad then, but it didn't feel right, so I figured I'd wait and see once we got back on the road. After soaking in the hot tub and eating dinner, we got back on the road about 8 PM. About 40 miles past Thermopolis, we started driving up the Big Horn mountain pass. It started out fine, but quickly started snowing. Then the road turned to ice, and it made driving rather interesting. I was going about 25 mph the whole way up. Then came down. Trying to drive down a 7% grade on ice for 10 miles isn't fun. But we made it down eventually. We finally made it back to interstate 90 and drove the last little bit left of Wyoming to South Dakota. About this time I was getting tired, and it was about 1 in the morning. So I turned the wheel over to my dad and went to bed. I figured I could tell him in the morning.

About 4 hours later, I wake up to my dad rolling the window down and him saying, 'Hello Officer.' Oh great. I get up and look around. There were two semi trucks that had spun out in the middle of the road, and the cop was directing traffic around them. It had kept snowing since Big Horn, and the roads were pretty slick. I fell back asleep for about 20 minutes, only to wake up from my dad continually hitting the rumble strip on the side of the road that is supposed to wake you up if you fall asleep driving, so you don't go into the ditch. I figured it was a little windy, and he was just being blown around. But he kept hitting it every 10 seconds or so, so I looked outside. At best, you could see about 15 feet in front of the car. I asked him what he was doing, to which he replied, 'I'm using the rumble strip to figure out where I am on the road.' Oh god. Since he couldn't see, he'd touch the strip and then back onto the road, and then 10 seconds later do it again. So I said, 'What the hell are you doing? Pull the fuck over!'

'Oh no, we're about to drive out of it and it'll be fine.' So I pulled out his phone and looked at the radar of the storm. At the speed we were going, and the speed the storm was going, we weren't going to drive out anytime soon. So I told him that, and basically forced him to pull over at the next exit and pull into a gas station. He gave it, and crawled in back to get some sleep while I hung around and tried to check some of the blogs. It was about 6 in the morning by now, and we'd only made it through half of South Dakota. After about an hour I got out of the car and noticed that the snow had cleared up a bit, so I decided to start driving again. A minute or so later my dad woke up and I told him what was going on. He seemed satisfied and went back to bed.

The roads still kind of sucked, but the plows were out and it was getting better. Pretty soon I was back to driving 80mph and trying to recover some time. Around 10 AM we pulled into Sioux Falls, SD for gas. Sioux Falls is just on the eastern border of South Dakota and Minnesota. South Dakota is about 400 miles wide, and should only take about 5 hours or so to get across. But because of all the snow, it took us over 9 hours to do it. We weren't too happy about that, but glad to be out of it and still safe. And it was only about another 200 miles to home!

About half way between where we had stopped and where we got gas, my dad got a phone call from my mom, informing us that her friend with brain cancer, Mary, had died. My mom has been a big part of caring for her, and is also power of attorney for her. It was really sad, and we both wished we were home to be there for my mom. That put a pretty big damper on our moods, and I gave up thoughts of telling my dad. It just wasn't the right time. And since that happened, I'm glad I hadn't told him the night before either. Just too much stuff to try and process at one time. So my awesome plan of using the long drive to tell him failed. But for now, I'm ok with that.

On the Monday night before we left, I was over at Demian's house shooting the shit, and I had mentioned that occasionally Erik gets doubts about whether or not their cross country trip is worth it. Usually right after Erik spends a lot of money on something for the trip, he'll think that. But then he thinks about it, and realizes it is worth it. Well, Demian interpreted that wrong, and thought I meant that Erik didn't want to go. So, apparently, after I left Demian called Erik and confronted him about it. Erik assured him that he still wanted to go, and that everything was fine.

A little after leaving Sioux Falls, Erik calls me asking where we are. I told him, and he said cool. Then he said that he was going to trade his car for a Jeep Cherokee that night, and he was going to leave the title for his car on the counter so my dad could sign it. Ok. I asked what was going on, and he said he and Demian decided not to tow the camper with the El Camino, for fear of getting stuck without 4x4. Not only that, but the Friday before, Erik put his notice into work that he was quitting in May. So because of one little thing that I said, and was misheard, Erik quit his job, got a proper vehicle to tow, and they had set a leaving date of June 1st. And they've been buying tickets for festivals on the west coast that they want to go to, and now will have to if they don't want to lose that money. So they're actually, finally going! Bout damn time.

I guess that's about it. I've been spending the past couple days recovering and trying to get my sleep schedule back to normal, after spending so much time in the car. All in all it was a great trip, and I'm glad I went. I wish I could've told my dad, but it just wasn't meant to be, yet.

Sorry for the longness of the post, but a lot happened!

Hope you guys are well!

143

_Kevin

March 21, 2011

Drunk Sincerity

Hey guys.

So, I'm sure I've told you guys about my 'sober cab' business I have with my brother and his friends. Well, St. Patrick's Day being last Thursday, I was put to work. Same old, same old. Phone call at 4:30 AM, an address, and rough time frame. Then the usual 'Thank you so much!' 'You rock!' blah blah blah.

Like I've said, I'm more than willing to pick them up, no matter the time. It's something too serious for them to fuck up. And if I have to sacrifice myself a little, that's worth it, right?

Anyways, last night was my buddy Tom's birthday party. I had to work until 12, but the party was still going strong by the time I got there. It was a good time, lots of people I haven't seen in a while. The old, 'How ya doin? How ya been?' But I've been noticing a trend the last couple times I've gone to the parties with my brother, or picked them up: drunk sincerity.

Whilst inebriated, people will say almost anything. Usually, at least towards me, it's nice things. But sometimes I have to wonder what they really mean, or how they really feel. The first thing when I walked up last night, there was a group outside smoking cigarettes and they all yelled when I got there, 'KEVIN!' I had someone call me the shit, Tom was incredibly grateful I showed up (him I believe) and someone called me 'pimpin'.

(FYI, for those of you that don't know, when something or someone is THE shit, it's a good thing. If something or someone is shit, it's bad. THE shit-good, shit-bad. Don't ask me, I don't make this shit up.)

Now, I know the main core of Erik's friends like me, regardless of the sober cab, so it's not that. It's just the fact that every time I see these people, I'm made out to be the greatest person in the world. When they introduce me to someone new, it's usually, 'This is Swampy's brother Kevin, the coolest mother fucker around' or something like that. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying any of this is true, or that I am the shit, it's just how they introduce me.

I guess what I'm trying to figure out is whether or not they like me for who I am, because I'm Erik's brother and they don't have a choice, or because I've kept them all out of jail. It's an interesting feeling when I'm with them. I'm also not sure that once Erik leaves on his trip, if I'll still be 'one of the guys'. Most times, unless it's a big party like last night, I won't see or talk to most of them unless Erik is with them. So once he leaves, am I just going to be forgotten? I'm not sure if I'm they're friend, or their friend's brother. You know? It's weird. I guess I'll just have to see what happens.

Moving on. This Tuesday my dad and I are driving to Salt Lake City, Utah to go skiing with my grandpa and two uncles. It's my grandpa's 82nd birthday, and he wanted to go skiing. How awesome is that?! He lives here, but is flying out. My uncle Bruce lives in Seattle and is flying there too. My uncle Keith lives in SLC, so we're all staying with him. It should be a good time. My dad and I haven't skied since our one outing back in December (I think. Whenever I made that telemarking post), but as my dad says, he only has to keep up with an 82 year old and a quadriplegic. I suppose I should explain that.

Back in 2001 my uncle Bruce was in a skiing accident and broke his neck. The doctors told him straight up that even with physical therapy, he'd never walk again. Well, after years of intense therapy and all sorts of other stuff, he can walk again. Usually with a cane or walker, but he can also walk on his own. It's an amazing accomplishment. He can't ski normal anymore, but he has some weird chair thing that he sits in that is on skis.

Like this:



Anyways. We're driving straight through, for around 18 hours. I've been thinking about the drive, and wondering if it might be a good time to tell him I'm gay. We'll have plenty of time, but the downside is that if for some reason he doesn't take it well, we're stuck in a car together. Even if I do it on the way home, it's still a long drive. Any thoughts? I'm not even sure if I should. I just want to tell my parents. I feel like I'm lying by not telling them. But I also don't want anything to change. I'm 95% sure both my parents will be fine with it, based on the amount of gay people they deal with in their lives and don't seem to have a problem with it. Even two of their better friends are in a long term relationship. But you never know. Any thoughts? Ideas? Advice?

Well I'm getting tired. Didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night after the party. That's the problem with coming home after 6 AM. I probably won't have internet access out in Utah, so from this Tuesday til next Tuesday I might be hard to get a hold of.

I hope you guys are doing well!

143

_Kevin

March 8, 2011

'Here We Go'

Hola.

Thanks everyone for the birthdays wishes. They really mean a lot to me.

Didn't do a whole lot for my birthday, just went to dinner with the family. Then on Friday went to my grandparent's house for dinner. Low-key, boring stuff. Not exactly what most people do on their 21st, but whatever.

This past weekend Demian and Erik were going to go to some mini festival on Saturday. They were going to take the Camino and tow the camper, kind of trying a dry run to see if everything works before the odyssey begins. Well Erik forgot, and couldn't get it off work. Demian had some friends from work going too, so he still wanted to go. But without Erik going, he didn't feel comfortable taking the El Camino, in case something went wrong. Erik being the mechanic would have been able to fix it if he was there.

So then I got a phone call. Demian wanted to trade his Acura for my truck, so he could still take the camper. I didn't have a problem with it, as long as he was careful. So he loaded everything up and took off bright and early Saturday morning. I went to work, and had a relatively boring night, and went to bed. Sunday I woke up and hung around the house for a while, waiting for my mom to get home. She had gone skiing for the weekend with some girl friends up at Indian Head in Michigan (not fair!) She came home tired, and after hearing about it I went up to the BP.

Erik was going to work on Aaron's car that day, yet he hadn't been home since I'd been up, so I went to tell Aaron what I knew. After a while up there I headed home. Since Demian had my truck, I didn't have my house key, so I knocked. Erik was home, and he let me in. Right before he opened the door, I heard him say, 'Here we go!' I thought it was a little odd, but didn't think much.

He let me in, and kinda just looked at me with this stupid grin on his face that he uses when he has something to say I don't want to here. Before he says anything I just roll my eyes and ask, 'what?' I was expecting it to be a problem with Aaron's car. We walk up the stairs into the kitchen and my parents are there. And Demian.

My truck wasn't in the driveway, so as soon as I saw him, I just said, 'Fuck!' And everyone started laughing. Then the truth comes out. The transmission went out on my truck, about 5 miles after D left the festival. So Erik had gone down there (about 1.5 hours south) to pick up Demian, which is why he wasn't home working on Aaron's car.

They left the camper in a gas station parking lot, and had the truck towed up to Erik's shop so he'd be able to work on it. I wasn't happy. I didn't blame Demian at all. We knew it was going to break at some point (all Dodge trannys suck. Our family has had three Dodge trucks, and this is the third tranny to go.) but I thought I'd get at least another 10-20 thousand miles before that. He was really worried, and was hoping I wouldn't be pissed. So I had to explain to him very clearly that I was mad at the situation, not him. He finally understood, and relaxed. He still felt really bad, and offered to help pay for it. He also said I could keep his car until the truck got fixed, which I thought was really nice since he delivers sandwiches for a living.

So now we're out $1500 for a rebuilt transmission. Not the best timing, but I guess it was bound to happen.

On a happier note, for my birthday my parents and I are going to split the cost on some drum microphones! I'll finally be able to properly record drums. Which is also nice since the band is getting ready to record our full length album, but still by ourselves. I was trying to figure out a way to record the drums better than the demo, and this seemed like the only way. We're all too broke to spend 5+ thousand on studio time.

They're still going to cost around $1000, but I'm going to get an Amazon credit card to put it on. I didn't really want to, but my mom says I need to start building my credit, and this is a good place to start. Plus we won't have to dump a grand right away. And if I pay it off in 6 months, no interest! I hate credit cards. I don't even have a check card. If I want to spend money, I have to drag myself to an ATM and get cash. It's the only way I can make sure I know how much money I have, and what I'm spending. Now I've got a flippin credit card. At least it can only be used at Amazon. Otherwise I'd be in big trouble.

I feel boring again....

There is something that has kind of scared me a little recently. When my grandfather passed, I inherited some guns from him. I got his first .22 rifle from when he was a little kid, that also turned out to be the very first gun I ever shot. I thought that was pretty cool, and it's really beautiful. I like guns, but not hunting. I'd rather spend a day at the range than sitting in the woods being quiet and not shooting much. But other than my brother's shotgun for hunting, we didn't own any guns.

I also received a 1977 Colt Python .357 revolver that has never been fired. Turns out my great grandpa bought it for my grandpa (for some reason we have no idea) and then he never shot it. It was still in the box it came in from the store, and had the tags still on it. Really beautiful.

But what scares me, is that now the occasional time I do think about suicide, it has a picture now. Before, I never really had a clear idea. Sometimes if I were driving, I'd notice a place that I could drive into and crash, but nothing really vivid. Now I see the nickel plated revolver in my mind when I get those thoughts. It's not very often, but it still surprises and scares me. The guns are locked up, and I don't have a key, and the ammo is in a different place than the guns, but still.

I don't know. I'm sure it's nothing.

Well that's about it. I'm tired.

Hope you guys are well!

143

_Kevin

February 23, 2011

So Happy Fucking Birthday, You're Not Special

Hey guys.

So. Um. Yeah...

I guess the first thing I want to say, is I hate snow! I used to love it as a kid, hoping I would get a snow day (technically, according to the school system, I never did), going sledding, building snow forts, snow ball fights with friends, and then coming inside to thaw with a warm cup of hot chocolate. But not anymore. For those of you that don't know, Minnesota just got hit with another 14+ inches of snow on Sunday. So for the last 3 days I've been shoveling. First at the BP. They called me in (it was my day off) to help with the shoveling. But with that much snow, you can't keep up. It's physically impossible. Then shoveling at home. And I helped my friend Paul shovel some of the houses he shovels. At least I made some money, but I HURT! I went to the chiro today and it was the best thing I have done all year.

Anyways, now that I got that off my chest, there is an event tomorrow (technically today since it's about 3 AM), that I'd like to talk about.

I'm not usually one to toot my own horn (ha, no pun), but tomorrow is my birthday. I'll be turning 21, but for the most part I don't care about that. What I do care about, is I'll also be turning 6.

Now I'm sure that you're confused by that. How could I be 21, and also be 6? Well there's a simple answer for that. Six years ago tomorrow, was when I got sober. I haven't talked much about it on here, but I've been sober since my 15th birthday.

Back when I was still in college, I had to write a paper on anything, but in a certain style known as Grammar B (google it). So I decided to write about myself getting sober. It's an interesting read, and I just reread it for the first time since I wrote it back in 09. I'd like to post it here to help give you guys a little insight into my world.

Junkie Man
February 23, 2005. The day that changed my life forever. It was the day I decided to get sober. I wasn't really sure how I had gotten to the point in my life I was at, but I wasn't happy with it. Was it my parents' fault? Was it society's fault? Was it my friends' fault? NO. Plain and simple, it was mine. I had made the decisions that led me to where I was. I had to accept that.
I was 15 years old, and fortunately could see where I was going if I kept doing what I was doing. I suppose with my family history, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Why not now? There is a long line of alcoholism in my family: My dad, his brother Keith, his brother Bruce, his step sister Kris, and a couple other people I don't know, so basically it was in my blood and I was fucked from day one, which isn't sooo bad because on the flip side, I knew how to get better if and when I wanted to.
OK. Enough of that. I woke up on my 15th birthday still fucked up from the night before. I had spent the night at my friend Wyatt's house, and was pretty sore from sleeping on his couch. I limped to the garage and smoked a cigarette. While I was sitting there smoking, I got to thinking. I was reflecting on my life up to that point, and didn't like what I saw. I had always been a good kid, but started doing drugs and drinking because it's what everyone else was doing. Once I started, I found that I was able to have a lot more fun hanging out with people. Pretty soon I was using every day and it really started to affect my life. I stopped going to school. I stopped hanging out with my friends I had known since kindergarten. And I only hung out with people who did drugs and drank. I wasn't doing anything with my life. It wasn't even that fun anymore.
So as I sat in Wyatt's garage I decided to make a change. I knew my dad had gotten sober, but wasn't really ready to talk to him about it yet. I then remembered that my friend Robin had gotten sober. Later that night I called Robin to talk to him about getting myself some help.

Robin: Hello?
Me: Hey Robin, it's Kevin.
Robin: Oh hey man, what's up?
Me: Well I think I want to get sober.
Robin: Really? That would be great.
Me: Yeah I think it's finally time to make a change in my life.
Robin: Do you feel like you have a problem with drugs or alcohol?
Me: Yeah.
Robin: OK. Why don't we get together tomorrow for coffee and talk some more?
Me: Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks.
Robin: No problem. Later.

" 'Carol Anne' the beast is calling
'Carol Anne, Carol Anne' she can hear souls sing
'Carol Anne' the beast it needs you
Here it comes, here it comes
Reaching out somewhere from inside your TV"
-The Shining by The Misfits.

So I met with Robin, and we talked for a while and he said that if I wanted to, we could go to an AA meeting that night. I figured I had nothing to lose, so I agreed to go. It was the greatest decision I have ever made in my life. Robin picked me up and we drove to the meeting. Once there, he started introducing me to a bunch of people and was a bit overwhelmed. But they were all nice to me and was glad I was there. The meeting started, and I just sat and listened to what was going on around me. When it came time to split into small groups, Robin suggested I go to the first step meeting instead of the normal meeting (which I think was on the 4th step that night). Why is it called The Shining if it's about Poltergeist?
I went upstairs and sat down in the first step group. Most of the people there were around my age, maybe a little older, and most were in treatment. Somebody stood up front and told a little about what AA is and what the first step was. We then broke into more small groups and got a chance to talk about why we were there. Most kids were there because their parents had forced them into treatment. They weren't too happy. When it got to my turn, I said I was tired of using all the time and not having a life. It was all about the drugs and alcohol. They were pretty surprised that I was there by choice and only 15 years old, that day.
After the first step, I went outside for a smoke and Robin was already done with his group and was outside smoking with some friends. I walked over to them, and he introduced me. He asked if I wanted to go out to dinner with the group and I said sure. We went to eat and spent a couple hours just having good, clean, sober fun. It was a new experience for me, and it was really fun. It had been soooo long since I had gone out to dinner with friends sober, that I felt rather awkward at first, but the group helped me relax as the night went on.
Robin took me home later and asked if I wanted him to come pick me up next week. I thought about everything that had happened that night and said yeah that would be cool. He picked me up for the next two years until I got my license and could drive myself. I have been going to that meeting ever since that night, and after getting a sponsor (Robin), working the 12 steps, and trying to carry the message to the still suffering alcoholic, I haven't had to pick up a drink for 4 and a half years. I owe my life to the program, and to Robin for putting up with all the bull shit I put him through when I was too stubborn to listen to him. I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay him for what he did, but I'm going to try my best.
End.

It's a very quick glimpse, and incomplete to say the least. But it was the first time I had ever tried writing out that part of my life, and it was the best I could do. I don't mind talking about my life, but I find it hard to write it all out like that. Hence why my story (Listed M.I.A.) fell apart. Too much was based in reality for me to keep going. So if you're confused about what I'm talking about, please feel free to ask me. I'll do my best to answer.

For years sobriety was the biggest thing in my life. Pretty much everything I did revolved around the fact that I was sober. It was almost like, Hi I'm Kevin, and I'm sober. That was it. I got tired of that, and have since moved away a bit from it. I'm still sober, but I don't really go to AA meetings anymore. When I need it, I'll go, but I don't go every week or more like I used to. I got what I needed from there, and I know where it is if I need it again.

All my friends know I'm sober, and are cool with it. A lot of them don't believe me at first that I got sober at 15. 'How could you go through high school sober?' Easily. I just had to use the tools I learned to survive. Or they are surprised I don't partake once in a blue moon. But whatever. They get the benefit of a sober driver. Something my brother and his friends have taken advantage of many times. I can't think of how many DWI's and lives I've saved because of getting out of bed at 3-6 AM to pick someone up. Or being there partying just as hard as them, with only caffeine to keep me going, until after 10 AM before finally getting home. I think it's a small price to pay to keep people safe.

So, tomorrow when I turn 21 am I going to go get drunk? Just like 99% of the world does when they turn 21? Fuck no. When have I ever done what everyone else does? I've always gone against the grain to some extent, so why would this be any different? I'm going to go out to dinner with my parents and brother, and have a good burger. I'll probably buy a beer, because I can, but I'll give it to my mom or brother. The only thing I'm actually excited about turning 21 is that I'll be able to go to any concert I want. No more asking if it's 21+ and being let down. I can't count how many cool shows I've wanted to see that I couldn't go to. But no more! Otherwise, it's just another year.

Umm....I think I'm done for now. Sorry for the more lengthy post than normal, but I wanted to get this out there. It's not something I usually like to brag about, because I'm just as sober as the person with 24 hours, but at the same time, it's nice to acknowledge it so I do realize where I've come from, and what I've done.

Last year, when I turned 5, I had just gotten a new (old) Bad Religion album(is it weird how often I mention Bad Religion?). The album was released in 1988, but I had finally gotten it. I'd heard some of the songs, but not all. I was driving home from my meeting, and had the album on shuffle. A song came on, entitled 'When?' and the first line struck me harder than anything before. It fit everything so perfect.

'I've seen a lot of things in five years, I struggle just to hold back the tears'

It then goes on into a more political theme, but those first words seemed to describe what I was thinking at the time. I had been reflecting on my life, and there was so much emotion involved. The timing of the universe was perfect for one small moment in my life.

So that's my story in a very, very small nutshell. Like I said, if you have questions or want to know something, just ask. I'm basically an open book.

And now I'll leave you for now.

I hope every single one of you is well, and my thoughts go out to those of us who have recently left our community.

143

_Kevin


The song mentioned halfway through my essay (as a crot) for a point of reference.



'When?' by Bad Religion



'Junkie Man' by Rancid, from which I got the name for the paper.



And finally, the title of this post.

February 14, 2011

Larry

Hey guys.

Today, January 13th, marks the one year anniversary of the passing of our friend Larry. I'm not sure if all of you were around when it happened, but Larry was just starting to join the blogging world. And he did it in a really cool way. He would post something from the same day, when he was around 13. Then he would do a post from his current life. It was a nifty idea, but one that never got to come to fruition.

I won't go into his life story, but he decided to end his life early. I was just starting to get to know him, and he was tragically taken away from all of us. Since then, I have gotten to know him a little better through his amazing cousin, Paul. I'm sure some or most of you know who Paul is. I've also come to know Paul, and I'm happy to call him a friend. It's very sad that it was under horrible circumstances, but I'm glad I got to know Paul.

So please keep Larry, Paul, and their families in your thoughts as they approach this milestone in their lives. I've quoted it a fair amount of times, yet feel it's still fitting:

'So where is the justice when no one is at fault, and a human life is tragically wasted? How fragile is the flame that burns within us all to light each passing day?'
-Bad Religion

I posted this before, but I want to post it again. It's a song that I wrote the night I heard of Larry's death.

As A Friend


Suicide isn't painless
And suicide isn't nameless
No matter what you feel
We must come together to begin to heal.

You left this world all too soon
Now there's nothing that we can do
And though we knew each other for a short time
I'll always consider you a friend of mine.

You had a hard life, it's true
But now we're all left thinking of you
I wish it didn't have to end this way
There's not much else to say.

We will always love you
And we will always miss you
Until that day we see each other again
I'll think of you always, as a friend.


Paul created a video for Larry, and said I could post it up here. The dead shall live on forever, if only in our hearts.

Godspeed Larry.

143

_Kevin

February 7, 2011

Green Bay

Hey guys.

Well it was the Super Bowl today. I'm not a huge football fan, so I usually just watch for the commercials. And there were some pretty good ones this year.

But this year was special. My grandparents (on my mom's side) are HUGE Packers fans. They're both born and raised in Green Bay, and my grandma was one of the first Packers cheerleaders. And my great, great uncle (I think it's great great) was hall of fame inductee Tony Canadeo.

With my grandfather having just passed, we were all hoping for a Packers' win, thinking he could help 'influence' things. Well, as I'm sure you've heard, they won. And it was the greatest thing ever. Not because they won, although that's cool, but because for the first time since he died, I saw my grandma happy. She was jumping around screaming with everyone. I was smiling hugely, and mainly because of that, not the game. She kept thanking Jim for it too. She said they won it for him. I just thought it was really cool. It was nice to see her happy, even if just for a little while.

Another thing I think is pretty cool, is that my great uncle is on the Packer's Board Of Directors. So, since the Packers won today, he gets a Super Bowl ring too. I thought that was bad ass.

On Friday I saw my mom for the first time in a while, at least for more than 5 seconds, since she's been with my grandma so much. We went suit shopping for the funeral, and I ended up with an all black suit and black shirt. I know, kinda depressing, but I must say I look damn good in it. I'll steal one of my dad's ties for some color. As I was standing looking in a three-way mirror, my mom came up behind me and started crying. She kept saying how proud my grandpa would be, and how nice I looked. She could hear him saying, "Lookin good, KJ!" (KJ being my nickname he always called me). I wasn't really sure how well she was coping, but that let me know not as well as I thought. After about 10 seconds she pulled herself together though, and we kept going. I'm not sure what'll happen on Tuesday.

I can't remember if I mentioned it before, but my mom asked if I wanted to do a reading from the bible at the funeral. After thinking about it, I decided not to. Mainly because I don't like talking in front of people, and the emotions I'll be feeling. So Erik and my cousin Ryan are going to do it.

Then she asked tonight if I would be one of the people that brings the 'gifts' to the front of the church. Gifts being the wine and wafers for the communion. I don't have to speak, so I said yes. My cousin James and I will be doing it. All I do is go to the back of the sanctuary, grab a cup or tray, and walk it to the front. I've only been to a couple Catholic services with my grandparents, so I'm not too sure what to expect.

I found out the other day that they had my grandfather cremated, so there won't be a casket. My mom asked if I was ok with that, and I said yes. I don't have a problem with cremation. But last night I actually started to think about it. A picture of his body being burned came into my head and I started crying. I couldn't bring myself to think about it, so I pushed it out of my head. I'd never really thought about the process, just the end result. I'm still ok with it, it's just hard to think that his body isn't here anymore.

I guess that's about it. I probably won't post again until after the funeral, but you never know.

I hope you guys are well.

143

_Kevin

February 5, 2011

A Tout Le Monde




Don't remember where I was
I realized life was a game
The more seriously I took things
The harder the rules became
I had no idea what it'd cost
My life passed before my eyes
When I found out how little I accomplished
All my plans denied

So as you read this know my friends
I'd love to stay with you all
Please smile when you think of me
My body's gone that's all

À tout le monde [To all the world]
À tout mes amis [To all my friends]
Je vous aime [I love you]
Je dois partir [I have to leave]
These are the last words
I'll ever speak
And they'll set me free

If my heart was still alive
I know it would surely break
And my memories left with you
There's nothing more to say
Moving on is a simple thing
What it leaves behind is hard
You know the sleeping feel no more pain
And the living are scarred

À tout le monde [To all the world]
À tout mes amis [To all my friends]
Je vous aime [I love you]
Je dois partir [I have to leave]
These are the last words
I'll ever speak
And they'll set me free

So as you read this know my friends
I'd love to stay with you all
Please smile, smile when you think about me
My body's gone that's all


À tout le monde [To all the world]
À tout mes amis [To all my friends]
Je vous aime [I love you]
Je dois partir [I have to leave]
These are the last words
I'll ever speak
And they'll set me free