For the past two days, I've been digging into the archives to provide content, since I don't have the time or energy to provide any new content for you this week. My bad. Tomorrow is Record Club Friday, so that'll get us back on track. In the meantime, here is a truly random assortment of junk that I found on my computer and on the internet, mostly from high school, which makes it truly cringe-worthy. I can barely get through some of this stuff, which means I can't imagine why you would put yourself through it. But anyways, here we are.
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I wanted to include something from my high school diary here, but there honestly isn't that many entries that would be appropriate for this blog. It's really bad, you guys! Lots of petty bullshit about crushes on girls, lots of talking shit on best friends, lots of unfortunate homophobic language, lots of copy-and-pasted AIM conversations. Like this... why would I save something like this?
Chini111: yo is there any where i can fuck at ur house
Chini111: oh sorry its chris
SgtPepper12188: uh….. wow haha …. uh i dunno, why who you got in mind
Chini111: this girl meg
Chini111: i dont wanna fuck anywhere that anyone would knowq
Chini111: know*
Chini111: n u have 2 promise not to tell anyone
SgtPepper12188: i wont tell anyone …. yea im not really sure where you could….
Chini111: k
Chini111: wut is that room in ur downstairs room where the couch n everything is its like a door than a room wut in there
SgtPepper12188: my aunt’s room, with a bathroom too, so im not really sure thatd be the best spot haha
Chini111: lol
Chini111: i dunno now i thought that it was like a empty room or something
Chini111: i dont think there is anywhere that no one will see
SgtPepper12188: yea i cant think of anything
Chini111: lol
Chini111: fuck
Chini111 is away at 9:39:39 PM.
I mean, it's kinda funny in retrospect, but also, it's some random dude sincerely asking me whether he is able to come to my house during a party and have sex with someone in some discrete corner of the property. Kinda weird.
There's more AIM convos where that came from, like:
H2OCHIC429: hey
SgtPepper12188: hey whats up?
H2OCHIC429: nothing i just called u
H2OCHIC429: i need some male opinions
H2OCHIC429: !
H2OCHIC429: what’s up with u ?
SgtPepper12188: yea sure…. nothing’s up with me… what did you want to talk about
H2OCHIC429: ok
H2OCHIC429: well u see
H2OCHIC429: …
H2OCHIC429: the kid i like..
H2OCHIC429: him nd i were talking today
H2OCHIC429: nd he rnadomly asked me
H2OCHIC429: how far i’ve been
H2OCHIC429: nd…so i was embarrassed and tried not to answer
H2OCHIC429: he said sry that was random..nd i didn’t have to answer
H2OCHIC429: he was jw
SgtPepper12188: wow… uh… well that could mean a couple things
H2OCHIC429: like…
H2OCHIC429: well let me tell u what happened after that
SgtPepper12188: okay
H2OCHIC429: so then i was like i don’t have anything bad to say
H2OCHIC429: nd he was like what do u mean by that…
H2OCHIC429: nd i said umm well
H2OCHIC429: trying to avoid it
H2OCHIC429: nd i said i have nothing to tell
H2OCHIC429: nd he said o gotcha sry ur prude?
H2OCHIC429: nd i was like um well..nd he was like no?…
H2OCHIC429: nd then i tried to change the subject nd i asked how far he has been (2nd if ur wondering)
H2OCHIC429: nd then he was like so…….ur prude?
H2OCHIC429: nd i said unfortunately yea..
H2OCHIC429: nd then i said not all of us can be as hot as eric (it’s a joke we have this kid is really ugly…i told him bout how i want eric to pose for a calendar)
SgtPepper12188: haha
H2OCHIC429: soo anyways
H2OCHIC429: ha said haha nd i said don’t go tellin everyone that
H2OCHIC429: nd he said i won’t
H2OCHIC429: then i said i’m kind of embarassed by it
H2OCHIC429: nd he said y..
This goes on for a while. I wonder how much more painful my high school diary will get as the years go on.
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Senior Week Chronicles: When me and my high school friends went down the shore for a week of debauchery, I woke up every morning with a beer and a paper and pen, writing down what had happened the day before. Each "dairy entry" was then left on the coffee table at the house for everyone to laugh at. We had a fucking week, y'all. I can't reprint most of it, it's just too incriminating, but let's see if there is anything I can possibly salvage. A lot of this is bad and paints me in a terrible (but deserved) light. I've done a lot of reckoning with my past, including how I acted this week and beyond, but it's important, I think, for you to know that this is all true, I really was this shitty, and feel free to judge accordingly. Plenty of initialing and redacting to go around. I only included three days, we'll let the beginning and the end of the week go unarchived.
Day 3
My Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch was ruined. First, we didn’t have any bowls, so I put it in a cup. Second, I couldn’t find a spoon, and by the time Bri lent me her spoon, my cereal was soggy. Third, people kept insisting I do "beereal"; I degrade myself in many ways, but never would I commit the moral sin of pouring beer on my Cap’n. Overall, I gotta say, it was a bad breakfast, but I loved it still because the day could only get better—and did.
People went to the beach, and I met up with them around noon, schmoozing my way past the beach tag lady so I didn’t have to pay the fee. There was tons of guys and chicks at our beach area, all from La Salle and Gwynedd. And of course, the beer was there. I wasn’t trying to get drunk but it was nice maintaining the buzz. After a while I took off my shirt, much to the disgust of our company. I heard “take off your sweater” one too many times; at least Ed B. was original by pointing out my “shoulder pads.” It was funny though—if you haven’t noticed by now, I like getting attention, even if that means showing my fuzzy chest and stomach to the fine people of Ocean City.
After a cool dip in the ocean, I got the munchies, so me and C. split a pie (pizza pie) at Mack and Manco’s, where we met a few other fine La Salle gentlemen, laughed at M.’s hooking up with [REDACTED] the previous night, and made fun of the Prep kids next to us, one of whom was [REDACTED], and I was quite tempted to say something quite rude indeed, but I refrained. So I walked home and showered.
The next four hours were relaxing: we chilled in the house and sipped the suds and watched Phil of the Future because that chick is smoking. After dinner, I met up with M.C. at Mount Girl Group A’s house. Unfortunately, they were still not receptive to my presence, and I was soon kicked out for the second time this week. This time, they said the neighbors were gonna "call the cops"; me and M.C. talked to their neighbors personally, and all they planned on doing was continuing to smoke their cigarettes. They couldn’t even hear us. If they weren’t like 50 years old I would’ve chilled with them, because God knows they were a lot cooler than H. and K. They were dicks to us the whole time, and I’m not sure I’ll be dealing those chicks for quite some time.
The group of us—me, M.C., S., F., J.D., C.—walked around for a real party, but found nothing, so we settled for K. S.’s apartment. As I and everyone else were pretty inebriated by this point, we just clowned around for a while. J., F., and posse showed up, and I ended hooking up with [REDACTED] again. Thankfully, she didn’t “maul” me this time. And what happened next would probably be one of those things I’d feel bad about if it wasn’t Senior Week.
My friend C.I., who’s in a house with [REDACTED], called me up, saying they were right near us, and her bud [REDACTED] was “looking for some ass.” I should clarify at this point the reasons why any girl would even fathom hooking up with Joe K***: 1) my cologne smells nice, 2) the girl is drunk off her ass, 3) I’m just really, really lucky. I’m not sure how much my cologne had to do with it, but all I know is that someone calls me to ask if her cute drunk friend can make out with me, if that’s not luck, I don’t know what is. So one minute I see C. walking down the street with two friends, the next minute [REDACTED]’s tongue is down my throat, but I can’t complain, I mean, what guy would?
And I can imagine how dirty the whole scene looked to a third person; two teens laying in an elevator, the chick with her top off, and the guy with hickeys the size of Utah. But let me make a point yet again: it’s Senior Week, and I enjoyed myself, and that’s what matters. There was one snag though, and that was that it was obvious to Caroline what was going on because... well, me and [REDACTED] hooked up at [REDACTED]’s condo building. Errr, bad call perhaps.
I was mildly berated by [REDACTED] through a series of texts, all culminating in one that claimed, “You are making me smoke, thanks,” But I’ve driven girls to do worse things, so it was with nothing but a light heart that I hung out at our house the rest of the night, drank some more, talked to Wawa with F., and met a cute girl from Wiss who I might meet up with later...
Day 4
I’m finding it harder and harder to remember the things that have happened this week. I guess the copious amount of alcohol is to blame. I’m not saying I don’t remember anything, it’s just that everything seems hazy, like it’s been one big dream, A wet dream, even. Although my body is breaking down and I feel like I’m going to puke, I gotta say, this has been one of the best weeks of my life. Surrounded by friends, and parental figures out of the way, life is so simple, so easy, so fun. I also like how we don’t have to clean up; something about a myriad of empty beer cans littered all over the floor at 6 AM makes me feel at peace.
Speaking of beer... Yeah, we’ve all been drinking a lot. Yesterday was supposed to be my recovery day, I ended up starting the beer at like three, and steadily kept it up until the wee hours of the morn’. But I’m getting ahead of myself. What I liked about this day was that people were allowed to visit our house, finally. A kicking cast of characters passed through our doors for the better part of the day. C.N. and G. showed up for a game of Kings, P. crashed again, B.’s bro got fucked up, B.C. made some jungle juice, [REDACTED]—ahem, K.M.—couldn’t find a parking spot, and R.C. and company came in and refused beer... fucking La Salle kids. Not only are they not drinking, but also people are leaving fucking UNFINISHED beers. The same thing happened at J.L.’s the one time. But then again, I’m sure Prep kid do the same, so it’s whatever. FTP.
They were at the Ocho when we arrived last night, but they didn’t start shit so I’ll let it go. I dunno, I wasn’t digging that house. Some chick tried getting me to pay five bucks for a fucking Natty Light. I promptly left, went back to our house, got my ass whipped in beer pong—YET AGAIN—and hooked up with A.C. [REDACTED].
Err... yeah, awkward maybe. Let’s continue. So I walked A. to the end of the block, and on the way back I saw M.B. Even I appreciate how absurd it must have looked to see me walk A. down the steps, then two minutes later be leading M. up the steps. I’m surprised M. didn’t see any of my housemates’ stares. On a sidenote, I got a text from M., saying that we should keep it on the “dl” because she’s “kinda with someone.” Um... so anyway.
The ink color is blue now because I got drunk before I finished the entry, then I had my pen behind my ear and it must’ve fallen out during my various escapades. In fact, I kind of don’t clearly remember this week anymore. Let me see... after M., I think me and K.M. went to M.C.’s. Brought a few brews. Hung with the bros. M.D. got kicked out, which was pretty unfair. Erm... I think we went to a Wiss party, with that chick L. I mentioned earlier. Standard activities. B.C. came in at one point and sprayed whipped cream on us, but that backfired, as it only got a little kinky from there. End Day.
Day 5
So for the third day in a row, today was considered a day of recovery, and for the third day in a row I started boozing early. But I did hold off till 2 today. In the meantime, I went out to eat twice, the first at a quaint breakfast inn, an occasion that ended in me running home for a beer poop, and the second at the Varsity Inn with everyone, where I got a Reuben. I don’t understand, though, why my sandwich was open-faced. What is the point? What, am I gonna eat the sandwich with a fucking fork? This is Senior Week, goddamn it. I wanna pick it up with my hands.
Team 19046 tried to uphold their pong winning streak, since me and J.C. kicked ass back at the Biophysics party. I swear to god, J.C. carries this team. But we lost, narrowly. Oh well. After that, it was all downhill. For the next 14 hours I steadily got inebriated. First on the agenda was a walk over to what steadily has turned into my 2nd Senior Week house. It was nice because everyone was trashed and we had a big jam session, myself on bongos. Too bad S. was still being a hardass about the noise, it ruined the good vibes. But some chicks were dancing erotically to the music, so that made up for it... well, that is, until J.D. got butt-ass naked and joined in the dancing. I would expect no less.
I left around dinnertime. It was an interesting walk alone in the rain. Have you ever seen Stand By Me? And Gordy sees that deer on the tracks, and for him it was this surreal experience. Well, I was alone on a deserted Ocean City block, and a fox ran by, staring at me as it ran. I think it was just as integral a life experience as Gordy had, but as I look back on it, that’s probably bullshit because I was drunk off my ass. So I got home and showered.
Next stop was a party in Sea Isle. It was pirate themed, so naturally no one dressed in anything pirate themed. We were there for a really long time, but for some reason I feel like I didn’t do much at all. Just mingled I suppose. Everyone was out of it, I guess. Good company. Nothing specially when it comes to parties though.
We got home around midnight, planning on taking a ride over to the Merion house. Too bad [REDACTED] was being a drunk douchebag. Harsh words, perhaps, but then again I eventually did see her at like 3 AM, and she didn’t say one word to me all night. Whatever. Went to M.C.’s, again. Drank some more. {REDACTED] picked me up with her pal C. Me and [REDACTED] went to the roof deck. I’m not gonna lie, I’m growing a little weary of writing about my female escapades, and plus it makes me look like an asshole sometimes. Yea, I have been a douche this week when it comes to the ladies, but I swear I’m not like that back at home. I’m afraid that people will assume otherwise by reading this, so I’ll say that me and [REDACTED] played checkers, talked about 18th century European politics, and got into an in-depth argument about the role of women in classic literature.
Then [REDACTED] was silent some more, and all her pals made fun of [REDACTED]. I wish she didn’t have to live with those uncool chicks. And I caught a cab home, it was enjoyable. The guy confirmed that some foxes do run wild in Ocean City, so at least I wasn’t hallucinating earlier this afternoon. It was 4 AM when I got home, and I was finally sober. Kind of.
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An Ode
February 25, 2008
Not very often am I really into the shit we read in English class. I mean, the professor I have now is probably the best English teacher I’ve ever had, and he tries so damn hard to make things interesting, and hell, it works sometimes, but the bottom line is that most of the things we read in Honors Lit 112 aren’t that good. Boring, even. Today was different though.
Today we read a poem called “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” written by John Keats. It’s about the things he observes on this vase with paintings on it, and his reaction. Sounds boring, right? I thought so too—at first. Then I read this passage:
“Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed,
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs forever new;
More happy love! More happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoyed,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.”
So it’s describing a scene on the urn, in which perhaps two young lovers are so close to kissing, but they aren’t yet, and they never will be, since they are but paintings on an urn. It’s always going to be Spring, the piper is always going to be playing his joyous songs, and love will always be there. They will be forever young.
That could never happen here, in this real life world. In real life, the boy and girl would have kissed, and perhaps it would have been great at the time, but what happens afterwards? What happens when the moment is over, and joyous spring turns into frigid winter, and the boy loses interest in the girl and breaks it off and she cries and they grow old and bitter?
The question, I suppose, that Keats raises is the following: What is better, the longing for love, or the finding love and have it rot away? I think back to my ex-girlfriend, and my feelings of her before we started going out. Oh, how I pined for her! A solid two months I—as the kids these days say—“liked” her. And it was great. It was a great time to be alive. Then we became a “thing,” and things went downhill from there. And we got along sometimes, but other times we fought and were upset at each other until finally it fell apart.
Suppose we had never taken that next step. Suppose I just kept being interested in her, but nothing happened. Would that have been bad? I’m not sure how Keats would respond for sure, but honestly I don’t think he would have thought that was bad. “Happy love... TO BE enjoyed... all breathing human passion far above.” The love that could be there is far above the passion you have for that brief moment of finding that love; that’s what I get from Keats’s poem.
I thought about all this a lot in English class, mainly because I’m starting to have feelings for another girl. God, I hope I don’t regret writing about this on the internet, but so few people read this xanga anymore that I’m throwing caution to the wind. Yes, I have feelings for a girl that I know, and I often find myself preoccupied thinking about her. But it will never come to be. It would never work. It is so fucking STUPID of me to have feelings for her, due to the fact that she will never like me back and that we will never be together. And originally this made me a little upset.
But then I read Keats today, and by fucking god it cheered me up so much. It gave me hope, this Ode. I took a step back and said, “Self, would it really be the best thing in the world if you got together? Doesn’t Keats make the point that this position you are in right now, the passion TO BE is better than actual passion? Should you really be that upset? Be glad!” And I was. And I am. Thinking about this girl makes me happy. Getting together with this girl, and having the same shit happen that happens in every fucking relationship I am in, that would make me unhappy. To have my feelings for her be returned would be really nice for a second, and then it would rot away until neither of us are happy at all.
So here I sit, the piper playing his joyous song, the leaves on the trees in an infinite Spring, for ever warm, forever young, more happy, happy love to be enjoyed. And I am content.
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Oh man, here's something interesting. I just found a copy of the speech I gave when I was a leader on Kairos. Most of this is going to be mortifying (I'll redact as needed here, plus change all names to something random), but bear in mind that I read this in a room in front of my peers and teachers. It's weird to think that not only did I read this in that public situation, out loud, but also that I would try to pass it off as "important" or whatever, and meanwhile other kids are giving speeches about abusive parents and actual serious stuff. Meanwhile, here's privileged Joe K***, boo hoo he drank a lot and was an asshole to women, what a shame. I dunno, maybe I'm a little cynical because obviously I have the same problems and it's been fourteen years and I'm still the same shitty person and I feel depressed about that. Anyways, now you can judge for yourself:
Love in Action
Joe K***
Spring 2006
Love. It’s a simple word, and yet, not many people can adequately describe it. You and I may think that to love someone is to care for them deeply, so much so that you would sacrifice your own wellbeing for them. The dictionary defines it as “a strong affection for another.” John Lennon once said that love means needing to be loved... whatever that means.
That’s the best thing about love though—we don’t need to define it. We all know that it exists, and if you love someone, you will naturally want to show your love. You have to put your love into action. Look around the room, look at your Kairos family. These kids sitting beside you have shown you immeasurable love, perhaps more so then you’ve ever felt in your life. Two nights ago you guys read a great number of letters that showed just how many people really do love you. Now think of all the folks back home. Can you remember all the times someone has shown their love for you? I bet there’s been many instances. When you love someone, you need to show it, just like your brothers have shown you on this retreat, and just like you will when you get home. You need to put your LOVE INTO ACTION. That’s what Kairos is all about—learning how to go about putting your love into action.
So many people in my life have shown me their love. Through the good times and the bad, my friends and family were always there for me.
I guess I should start my story with my birth. I was born to [REDACTED] on [REDACTED]. From the moment I was first held in my mother’s arms, she and my dad began to put their love for me into action. My mom wanted a good future for me, so she started to go to night class to become a nurse. It would take her many years to finally get her degree, but she knew in the end it would be well worth it. My dad picked up the slack right away. He started working a few jobs on the side, delivering newspapers at the crack of dawn every day of the year. No doubt it sucked for him, but like my mom, he wanted the best for me, and eventually my two sisters as well. I didn’t realize how lucky I was.
When I entered the grade school, I quickly stood out for academics. I guess school shit just came easy for me. I remember when I won a big classroom spelling bee one day, the teacher was so proud. It made me feel good. My parents were proud as well with my good marks all through grade school. I had a best friend that I had met in first grade. Billy lived four houses up the street from me, and throughout the early years of grade school we hung out all the time, doing what normal kids do, riding bikes and playing soccer.
Around sixth grade, everything started to change. Kids that I thought were my friends started to notice my good grades, and made fun of me for it. It was like all of a sudden someone decreed that anyone that did well in school was a f*g. I was the “smart kid,” and that pissed me off. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be the one that everyone hung out with on weekends. Instead, I found myself slowly being left out of the group of kids I had always hung out with since kindergarten.
Maybe I was being paranoid, but it really did seem like people went out of their way not to invite me to hang out. I’ll never forget one day I was bored, thinking of something to do and sitting on my porch. Then I saw Billy skate by on his skateboard. I waved, and he ignored me. Flat out ignored me and kept on skating down the street. It was devastating. I could take all the other kids leaving me out, but when my best friend did the same thing, it was the final straw.
I just felt like I was losing touch with the people I had grown up with, even though we still went to the same school. My dad tried to help, he was always getting on my case about staying in the house and not doing anything, but I had nowhere to go. I had no real friends.
That is, until I noticed the other kids in my class who were in the same position as me. They didn’t fit in with the “cool crowd” either. One night, for some reason, all of us came together to watch the Eagles game, and lifelong bonds were formed. Carl, Luke, Sophia, Charlotte, all these kids became my best friends. They stuck around after I graduated grade school, as opposed to all the other kids, Billy included, who quickly faded from my memory. My true grade school friends accepted me regardless of my grades in school. I love those kids, still do, because they put their love into action for me, like only true friends could.
The only problem was that none of these kids were going to my high school. I would have to start this whole process over again, meeting new people. I had stupid dreams that I would be the most popular kid in school. Obviously, this didn’t happen. It was tough as hell not knowing anyone at first, I guess it is for everyone. But me personally, I kind of get shy around people I don’t know, especially when there’s a whole school full of people I don’t know.
Not only was I at a new school, but my family moved to a new house as well. This limited my options, being in a new environment.
Outside of school was about the same thing. I still had friends like Sophia and Charlotte from grade school, and we hung out sometimes, but living at a new house, this proved difficult. I also started to hang out with my cousin Harry a lot, who is the same age as me. We would later become best friends, but not yet. By end of freshman year, that was about it. I had no one except a few kids and my family. And it sucked. But I guess looking back on it all, I should have been grateful. I mean, the few friends that I did have outside of school were amazing. They really put their love into action by keeping me from being lonely.
Sophomore year rolled around, and things were pretty much the same. I kept to myself a lot in school, occasionally I would try to make a friend, but mostly I was still the stereotypical quiet kid that doesn’t say anything. Let me tell you something right now: being shy sucks. It really does. I mean, it’s not like a shy person doesn’t want to speak, I definitely wanted to open up and make some friends. I just couldn’t. I guess I was scared of what people would think of me. I was scared that kids would reject me, think I’m a loser.
My grade school years, it seems, made me very insecure. Being treated like dirt by some people made me feel like shit, and it really fucked me up in the head. That’s why I was shy, because assholes told me I was a loser, told me that because I got good grades that I was a f*g, told me that because I acted a certain way that I wasn’t cool. And for a few years they pounded that into my brain, until I actually started to believe it was true. And now, I’m around kids I don’t know, and I’m afraid that they are going to say the same thing about me. So I kept my mouth shut and did nothing. And I made barely any friends, and I resented La Salle for putting me in this position in the first place.
Needless to say, I was not having much fun in my early high school years. That is, until one night, I was walking around by myself, and saw a kid I recognized as one of my friend’s cousin. His name was joe, and he had a brown bag in his hand. I asked him what was in the bag, and he told me he had some vodka in there, so I told him to fill up the rest of my iced tea bottle with it, and I gave him five bucks. I called up Sophia and Charlotte, and I drank, really drank, for the first time in my life.
I remember on the first day of freshman year, when my dad drove me up the steep La Salle driveway, he gave me the “talk.” I’m sure all of you know what which one I’m talking about. He told me that in high school, I’m gonna get exposed to a lot of alcohol and drug use, and that I should stay strong and not give in. At the time, I laughed him off, because in my grade school, that kind of shit just didn’t happen. A kid took one puff of a cigarette one time after grade school and everyone was pissed at him for months. So I told my dad, “no, I will not drink or smoke or anything like that.” And I followed his advice for a year and a half.
The first time I drank, it was really a liberating experience, I won’t lie. I could lose my ambition, I could forget who I was for at least a little bit. I was no longer the shy kid I was during school. During that cold November night, I felt like I was free from every worry that had burdened me for my whole life. And best of all, it was FUN, I laughed the entire night.
Up until this point, every hardship I had endured in my life was rarely through any fault of my own. It wasn’t my fault that my friends in grade school ditched me. It wasn’t my fault I was so shy that I didn’t make any friends in freshman year. But now I was drinking, something that would cause a lot of pain down the line. And it was my choice to do this.
I started to hang out with some new kids around the neighborhood. They were drinking, so I decided to join them sometimes. I’m not saying this was an everyday thing yet, mainly it was like every other weekend, a big group and I would stuff our pockets with cans and bottles, and just walk around, getting drunk.
I decided to lay down one ground rule for myself if I was going to start drinking regularly. Friends are more important than beer. And I thought I was following that rule. But what I didn’t notice is that my friend Sophia, probably my best friend, was hanging out less and less. She didn’t want to walk around in the night and drink, and I did, so I chose to drink instead of hanging out with her. I didn’t see it at the time, but I was being a jackass. I loved her, but I wasn’t putting my love into action. She was one of the only people from grade school that actually treated me like a friend, and here I was treating her like shit. But like I said, I was blind to the situation, so I continued to drink. And the situation started to escalate.
The summer after sophomore year, some guy offered to sell me and my cousins a bunch of forties, and we accepted. We drank on the tracks, and towards the end of the night, there was a lot left over, so I hid the rest in my garage, under a blanket. My mom, as fate would have it, needed something to cover the floor while she painted a few days later and she remember there was an old blanket in the garage. I got a text message from my sister that day, saying that my parents had found the forties and they were really mad. Shit, this time I was caught for sure. But, I became a coward. Instead of accepting my punishment as a man, I lied and lied. I said I was holding the forties for a friend, that I didn’t drink. This was the first time I told my parents a significant lie like this, and I could tell that they were hurt I was lying right to their face. But I lied anyway. That was only the beginning of the pain I gave them that day though. My mom, being a responsible parent, told my cousins parents that they were involved, and my cousins got in trouble. I yelled at my mom, cursed at her. I told her she was a terrible mom, that she had betrayed her son, I just went on and on. And at the end of the night, my mom was crying. She did nothing but love me my whole life, and here I am making her cry her eyes out. I felt bad, but I didn’t care. I loved her and all, but I was certainly not putting my love into action. I was doing the exact opposite. I was letting my hatred control my actions.
Thankfully, positive things were going on in my life as well. I started to shed my shyness without the help of alcohol. I actually started to make some good friends towards the end of sophomore year, and that summer, I got my first girlfriend. Then, in the beginning of junior year, I finally found my niche at La Salle. I don’t know how it happened, but I started hanging out in the chorus room, and in there I met the most amazing group of guys. Even though I couldn’t sing for the life of me, and I wasn’t even part of the chorus program, they accepted me as one of their own. If that isn’t a true example of love in action, I don’t know what is. And they are still the reason I love La Salle so much these days.
Things were changing outside of school too. Yes, I was still drinking, but now it was becoming a regular thing. And what’s more, lying to my parents had become the norm. Every weekend, I would tell my parents I was doing something like minigolfing or going to the movies, and instead we would go into the woods and drink. I would come home trashed, tell my parents I had a good time minigolfing, and go upstairs to pass out. Occasionally they might smell beer on my breath, but I just kept denying everything. Even after my mom looked at me and told me it hurts her when I lie to her, I still lied. It was terrible hole I had dug for myself, but even if I wanted to get out of the hole, I couldn’t. I was trapped in a series of lies.
I was starting to lose the support of my friend Sophia. She just couldn’t take my constant drunkenness anymore. Maybe I was pressuring her to drink, perhaps she just didn’t want to be around beer all the time like I was. I don’t even remember what started our argument at first, which goes to show how frivolous it was, but nevertheless we had a big fight, and both of us were at ends. Then one night I was totally trashed and I saw her at a Wendy’s. I asked for her forgiveness, and at that point I blacked out for a few minutes. I’m not sure if she accepted my apologies, if she did, then for some reason I thought that she didn’t, and I got all depressed. I walked out the Wendy’s and down the street, ran more like it. She got in her car and tried to give me a ride home, but I wouldn’t do it. I ran away and cried and cried on some random street that wasn’t familiar. It was terrible. I felt like the whole world was crashing down around me. So much for having a good time while drinking, right? Somehow I got home, I don’t even know.
And yet still, the next morning, we were still in a fight. I had fucked things up yet again, because I was drunk. If I had not drank for one stinking night, maybe I could’ve avoided the months-long fight that I had with Sophia. She just wanted to help me out, she acknowledged I had a problem, but I just shoved it in her face and cut her off from my life. Yet again, I failed to put love into action, like a true friend should have.
So, left without a best friend, I continued down the path of junior year. I continued to drink. In fact, it seemed like drinking was the only thing that got me through the week. Monday morning, I would be thinking, damn I can’t wait until Friday when I can get trashed. And I kept lying to my parents every night I drank.
When spring arrived, I tried out for the play. All my chorus room friends were doing it, so I figured I’d try it out, what did I have to lose? As it turns out, doing the play was one of the best decisions I ever made in my life. Since I had practice almost every day, I didn’t have time to drink. I was sober for months, and I was having a great time! It was a really eye-opening experience. I proved to myself that I could stay sober and still have fun, and that fact by itself made me happier than I’d been in a long time. Even though Sophia and I still weren’t speaking, I made tons of new friends through the play experience, and it hadn’t been that hard to open up to them. I felt as though I was really maturing.
One of my friends, Penny, came to see my opening night. Penny was a great girl, one of the best friends a person could ask for. She was always there for you. Even though she didn’t drink, she hung out with me and my drinking friends, helped us out when we were drunk, etc. A true pal. And when she came to see me opening night, instead of flowers she gave me a gallon of my favorite drink ever, Wawa iced tea. That meant the world to me. I was eternally grateful for such a gesture of friendship. And in return, I accepted her invitation to her prom. Little did I know I would fuck up big time.
The dance went well. I had a great time, and Penny did too. The after party was at her house, so we all went back there. I guess it was around two o'clock, and another girl starts getting close to me. And I did the unthinkable. I kissed the other girl. Right in front of everyone. In front of our friends. In front of Penny's parents. In front of Penny. I can’t fucking imagine the humiliation she must have felt. This was her fucking prom, and here I am, her prom date, making out with some other girl. If someone did that during my prom, I’d probably yell and scream and be really pissed. Penny was just really hurt. In the morning, I realized I had made a mistake, but being the insensitive jackass coward that I was, I did nothing to try and fix it. I tried to blow off the whole situation by saying “we were just friends, I can kiss whoever I want.” But the fact still remains that I humiliated Penny, and I did not repent. It was terrible.
For all those keeping track, that’s two of my best friends that I managed to lose in a matter of months. Naturally, I felt like shit about myself, and I started to drink again. Every weekend. Just like always. At this point I guess maybe I was doing more than trying to have a good time, I was trying to suppress the pain I felt. And I was still lying to my parents. Everything came crumbling down one night though. I went to a party, had a few too many drinks, and was going to sleep over my friend's house. I was practically passed out on the bathroom floor, when my parents call. I was supposed to call when I got to my friend's house, but I didn’t, and they got worried. They were even more worried when I could barely say anything comprehensible over the phone. They came to pick me up at 2 AM that night. All I remember is my mom running across the lawn to help me stand, and yelling “how dare you!” I blacked out after that. I can’t fucking imagine how they must’ve felt, having to carry their firstborn son to the car like a little baby, to look into my eyes and realize that I had been lying to them all this time, and here was their proof. It must’ve killed them.
The next morning I awoke, and had a nice long talk with my parents. I still was not entirely truthful with them. This time though, they said something that made me want to tell the truth. They said that even though I may lie to them all the time, they are still going to love me and do anything for me. The night before had served as a perfect example. They could’ve left me there on the bathroom floor puking my guts out, but they didn’t. They picked me up and took me home and tucked me into bed. They put their love into action, even though I still was refusing to do the same for them. Why couldn’t I just tell them the truth? Why was I hiding? They were my parents, aren’t you supposed to be able to tell your parents everything?
All this shit happened within a matter of months, all the drama with broken relationships in my life, all shit that I was to blame for. That’s why I was surprised as hell when Mr. Clark and Mr. Devlin asked me to go on Kairos as a Junior. I may have acted nice in school, perhaps even demonstrated leadership qualities, who knows, but all I knew was that outside of school I kept fucking up, and it felt strange being asked to be a leader in senior year. I didn’t think I deserved it.
My life was a wreck when I got on the bus for Kairos 37-50. I had no idea what to expect. I had heard that Kairos helps kids out, and I was praying for a miracle. And plus, I had no idea I was going to be going on Kairos this early in my high school career, so I was still a little shocked by that, unprepared as well. All I knew is that I wanted to fix everything in my life, and Kairos was hopefully the ticket to do that. And goddamn, was it.
Letter night was the night I will never forget from my Kairos experience, perhaps one the best nights of my entire life. I got so many letter from so many different people, people that I knew and loved, like my parents, and people I barely even knew. And all of them were saying how great a person I was, and how much they loved me. It was freaking incredible and really overwhelming. I got one letter in particular, from a friend, who said something that will forever stick out in my mind. She said that I, Joe K***, make people feel loved. Me, the kid with the drinking problem, the kid who fucked up his friendships with his best friends. I make people feel loved. My whole life came into question at that point.
I thought about Penny, and how she had come to opening night of my play, and how did I repay her? I embarrassed her in front of everyone. I thought about Sophia, and how she had saved me from my grade school hell, and how did I repay her? I crumbled our friendship by getting drunk. I thought about my parents, and how they sacrificed everything they had for me, just so that I could live a good life, and how did I repay them? By getting drunk and getting into trouble. I had been a disgrace at home, and here at Diamond Ridge, someone was telling me I make people feel loved. I think at that moment I realized what I had to do when I got home. I had to live up to that claim. Hell, if she had felt loved by me, maybe other people wanted to feel loved. Imagine how many people I had let down over the years. Goddamn it, I told myself I was going to change after that moment. I was going to make people feel loved.
And then the dam broke, and I cried and cried and cried. Vince and Mr. Clark came over and comforted me and gave me a hug and said it was going to be okay. I could feel the love in the room at that point, and that only gave me further incentive to go back home, and put my love in action.
This was my mission the next day, to learn how to go about spreading my love for family and friends. And in the final group interviews, I got some amazing suggestions. And best of all, they gave me the support I needed to follow through with my intentions. I felt like me and Mike and the rest of the boys and Ms. Kelly were truly a family, and I felt ready to go back home and transfer the love that we had grown to my other friends and family.
It’s been five months now since my Kairos. And I found out something as soon as I got home, that when you’re away from Diamond Ridge and back in the real world, making repentance with love ones is neither easy nor instantaneous. I had a really long discussion with Sophia, as open as the discussions I had on Kairos, and we’re best friends again. I wrote a letter to Penny, just like my group had advised me to do, and it worked wonders. Me and her are still working at our relationship, but it’s getting there, it really is. I can’t lie, I still struggle with drinking nowadays, but there’s a big difference. Now it is out in the open with my parents that I drink, and they can sometimes persuade me to do the right thing. I hope to God someday I can listen to them all the time, as opposed to just sometimes. But I’m still working on it, I’m working on trusting them enough to tell them the truth all the time, just as I’m sure they are working on trusting me with making good choices. Why am I doing this? Because I love them, and they love me. I’m just trying to put that love into action.
If you think that Kairos is an instant solution to all your problems, you’re wrong. As I soon found out after I left Diamond Ridge, Kairos does not end when you leave. It is a continuous process, something that you have to work on every single day for the rest of your life. But I’ve been there, and I can tell you it’s definitely worth it. Once you live Kairos in the real world, everything falls into place. I have discovered that when I put love into action, in turn my love multiplied a hundred-fold, making life a wonderful thing.
So I challenge everyone in this room to do the same. Think about all the people you love, and ask yourself, have I shown my love for them lately? Think about what you heard in your letters, what you wrote about in your notebooks, what you talked about in your group interviews. Never forget what you experienced on Kairos 37-51. Go home, give your parents a big hug, tell them you love them, write it in a letter, do whatever it takes to put all that love stored up in your heart into action. You will not regret it. I know I sure as hell haven’t.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
101 Things You Might Be Interested to Know About the Life of Joe K***
Written January 23, 2008
(here in 2020, I have asterisked those which are no longer true)
1. My favorite album ever is Neutral Milk Hotel’s In the Aeroplane Over the Sea*
2. My confirmation name is James... does that even count as part of my name anymore?*
3. Tums are integral to my survival.*
4. I have about eight best guy friends. I wish I saw them more often.
5. Santa Claus is forbidden to get me clothes.*
6. I had no idea the meaning of the title of that movie The Santa Clause until recently.
7. I went to La Salle College High School, and will forever be proud of it.*
8. My principal at said school looked like Wario.
9. My favorite Disney song is “I Wanna Be like You” from The Jungle Book.*
10. The only pens I can use are Bic Round Stic Ballpoint.
11. I almost got arrested at the Phillies game for sneaking in beer.
12. I almost got arrested too many times to count.
13. I actually got arrested once. December 23, 2006. Don’t ask.
14. Good times, drinking at Burholme. I miss that place.
15. My dorm room is Basils 343.*
16. Senior Week was one of the best weeks of my life. I was attacked by a sand bear.
17. My favorite movie is Dazed and Confused.
18. I used to drink a lot of Lion’s Head. I’m now a Keystone Light kinda guy.*
19. My fake ID works pretty good. On it, my name is Robert Schmidt.*
20. Back in the day I used to write shitty poetry and be proud of it.
21. An embarrassing moment: My grandpop beating me at Wii.*
22. A more embarrassing moment: Catching my dad watching the "Lip Gloss" video on MTV*
23. Mr. Norman is my hero.
24. I play the drums, but I’m not that good. I try though.*
25. Don’t expect me to go to school after these four years of college.*
26. I have no idea what I want to do in life.*
27. Correction: I know what I’d like to do, but it’s confusing, with the pressure from parents.
28. I don’t really read any books for school.*
29. I have a list of 50 things I want to do before I die. I’m done one so far.*
30. My favorite La Salle University employee is Patty who makes my grilled cheese.
31. When I drop my phone, it doesn’t work for about five minutes.*
32. I always dream about my job at Lafayette Redeemer. Nightmares, really.
33. I classify my music tastes as “pitchfork”*
34. I have a bladder problem when I’m drunk.
35. P.S. I drink a lot.
36. Too much really.
37. Currently, I have a girlfriend. Everyone is still shocked.*
38. I’m not much of a concert goer. People at concerts piss me off too much.
39. I once lost a bet at Jim’s Steaks. If he would’ve waited seven more seconds!!!
40. Subways = time for me to throw up. Really.*
41. Radio, in my opinion, isn’t all that great anymore.
42. I don’t know shit about politics.
43. If I had to choose, I’d choose Democrat.
44. My dad is a mailman. My dad is THE MAN.
45. I didn’t eat McDonald’s for three years. I gave in eventually.
46. I’m trying to build a deck of cards entirely from cards I find on the street. I have two.*
47. I invented a set of rules for Kings (drinking game) that kicks ass.*
48. I can’t handle shots.
49. I’ve never broken a bone.
50. I am an Eagle Scout.
51. Catcher in the Rye might be my favorite book. Maybe.*
52. Or maybe To Kill a Mockingbird.*
53. I naired, waxed, and shaved my chest on different occasions.
54. My parents went away for a week last summer. It was glorious.
55. Ever hook up with four girls at once? I have.
56. [REDACTED]
57. I’m a virgin.*
58. People say I do a mean “Unforgivable” impression. That’s getting old.*
59. I used to have another xanga. Too many parents knew about it.
60. I drink at family parties.
61. I got written up the first night at college. The first night!!
62. I have 2571 songs on my iPod.*
63. Rarely do I own any kind of music but full albums.
64. I’ve only been in two relationships in my life.*
65. My lucky number—so I thought in second grade—was 8.*
66. I was a beast at Spelling Bees in first grade.
67. Mrs. Robinson was a terrible teacher. Fuck fifth grade. Fuck her.
68. Grade School: Presentation BVM
69. I’ve never performed 69. Note to self...*
70. I had three oatmeal pies today.*
71. There’s a picture collage above my desk.*
72. Bruce Springsteen is more enjoyable in the summer.
73. I show people my pubic hair a lot.*
74. Slugs scare the fuck out of me.
75. I love doing theater. Not good at it though.*
76. I hate going to class. HATE it. It’s pointless. Fuck my life.
77. Burholme was the name of my band. We still jam from time to time.*
78. I love going camping. We’re going this spring break.*
79. I’ve never smoked weed, much to the chagrin of my weed-smoking friends.
80. I use big words incorrectly sometimes.
81. I really try to be a good person. I do! I usually fail though.
82. I’m always the bad guy, no matter what I do.
83. I’m pessimistic when it comes to myself (see above)
84. Thank god for the weekend.*
85. I wish more people read my xanga.*
86. I’ve been to 21 high school dances. Sad, isn’t it?
87. I stay up to late most of the time, doing stupid things like this.*
88. I’m kinda thin. Well, okay, I have a beer belly, but overall I’m thin.
89. Tall, too. 6’5″ almost. Most people feel the need to tell me I’m tall. I know. I know!
90. I get really happy sometimes when I am listening to music. Euphoric, really.
91. Kairos 37-51 was fucking amazing. Can’t explain it.*
92. Fuck waking up early.
93. I have dark hair, and it’s usually pretty long.*
94. In grade school I received the “Bulldog Spirit Award.”
95. My least favorite subject is History. I don’t care what a person I don’t know did.*
96. My favorite snacks are Zebra Cakes.*
97. Fuck the Prep!! I hate the Prep with a burning passion.
98. I don’t exercise. At all. Consequently, I’m weak.*
99. I consider myself funny in certain circumstances.
100. I can be really, really, really shy sometimes.
101. My name is Joe K***. Everyone calls me “Joe K***.” No one calls me “Joe.”
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