Chapter the first.

I

They always said I was born July 7^th, 2003 at 11 o'clock on a cold, dark night--as nights normally tend to be. I have no reason not to believe them, for it is evident that I was born at some point in time, and the point they give is just as likely to be correct one as any other. They also say that I was born in Wooster General Hospital and given the name Liam Ignacio Ellen. This I know for I can still remember patches of early years, which I will now try to recall for your edification.

My parents are immigrants, my father from Scotland; my mother from Portugal. Hence the strange name. We weren't exactly poor per se, but we certainly didn't have any extra money lying around in excess. My dad was a mechanic at the local car shop and my mom worked part-time as a housekeeper. We didn't have much, but I lived in a happy home, conveniently situated in neighborhood almost entirely populated by elderly couples who both gave me treats and were usually asleep before the sun. What is more, our home was filled with love, and that love brought along with it joy and peace. I still hold images of my parents putting me to bed. They would stand over me—they seemed quite enormous, but in that somehow not intimidating way parents seem to naturally be masters of— my mom with her large, doe-like brown eyes glimmering in the soft evening light, her brunette curls forming am exquisite frame for her kind, motherly face. Then there was Daddy. He would alternate his glances between Mommy and I. He was slim, and had a boyish sort of face; a face filled with love for his little family.

There was the swing outside under the oak tree. Ah, the countless hours we spent swinging underneath it's branches, and how I longed for the day when I would be old enough to lose myself among it's foliage. The summers were filled with lemonade and watermelon, the winters with stories. Ferdinand the Bull and Winnie the Pooh being the most revisited. If the entirety of life was like my early days, there would be no need for heaven...

Speaking of heaven, my family wasn't strictly religious. That is, we didn't go or belong to a particular church. My parents were good people, though, and they believed in God and in turn instilled that belief in me. Something that I did not comprehend or appreciate until recently.

The days happily piled one on top of the other until I was three and a half. By then I could read with affluence and had my multiplication and addition tables down. Pat. Everything came so easily to me—perhaps too easily. There was at least one thing, though, that my little head could not wrap itself around. Why were the kids my age so slow and unintelligent? I would ask and re-ask myself a form of this question whenever I was left without entertainment. I just couldn't get it. The result of all this was that I'd sit in corner, reading, while my peers would rumble around on the playground, fighting, eating bugs and dirt, etc. during the 'mommy meetings' or whatever those things that all the moms went to were called. I was, I'll admit, a prototypical social recluse.

But then Kevin came along and he changed everything. Oh gosh, the stuff that went down when we joined forces still manages to crack me up. I'm really not sure how our moms managed to retain their semblance of sanity. Kev was five and pretty smart for his age. He was small, though, so he fit right in with me. We fought an undeclared war on the rest of the playground crew, and our un-mated mates were no match for his age and my brains. The awful cruelty of children is only outmatched by their wonderful honesty. And my, we were both cruel to our “playmates” and honest about some of the more plump of the moms. The oddity of it all, though, is that our cruelty was more often left unpunished then our brutal honesty. How unjust life is. Even after all this, I still think that the honesty of a child is wonderful. It's much better than the deceit and reservation that confines our supposedly grownup world to it's never-ending boorish state. Anyway, there was one time when “the others,” as we called them, were roughhousing and eating away, when Kev and I found the sprinkler box. And it fortuitously was unlocked. All we had to do was turn the handle from the left to the right—just a few fateful inches to get back at those dirt-eating rapscallions for putting earwigs down our shirts the other day.

Needless to say, we turned it. The result was glorious. Pure chaos. I particularly remember watching with glee as an abnormally dimwitted chap tried to get out of one of the sprinkler's paths. The only problem—for him that is—happened to be that he was revolving in the same direction as the sprinkler. He came out of the ordeal slightly more drenched than the others. Ah, poor little man; we were shameless. Veritable devils. Unfortunately for us, the evidence against Kev and I was quite tangible this time around, in the form of a plethora of screaming, wet three year-old’s, and two little gremlins laughing beside the fateful sprinkler box. We got timeout. Quite a lot of it. But we afterwords agreed that the effect was worth the punishment.

Another and more important result of my interactions with Kev was the idea of having a sibling. He had two, an elder brother and a little sister. I naturally decided after a time that I wanted a little sister ad well. My heart was soon set upon the idea. I wanted a sister with all my heart.

So I asked my mom about it, “Mommy, I want you to get me a little sister like Kev.” Sadly, that was my way of 'asking' as I was somewhat spoiled and thought the world revolved around, well, me. My mom gave one of her knowing little chuckles that I remember so distinctly and replied, “You silly boy, you, I can't just go and get you a little sister like I go and buy your lunch, or pick one up at the drive-through.”

I was perplexed, so I asked, “Why not?”

“Because a little sibling would be a gift. You don't buy gifts, do you Liam?”

I replied in the negative, but I wanted to know who gave little siblings as gifts, so I could become friends with that person and then he'd give me one—or so I thought— I asked her, “Well, who gives them so I can become friends with him...?”

Another chuckle as she ruffled what little hair I had and then, “Come on silly, you're already friends with him.”

“What? No way. Don't tell me its Kevin.”

“Kevin! Spare us, no. God, my dear.”

God again. Although I felt an inexplicable attachment to this three letter word, that's what it was, a three letter word that Mom used to explain the inexplicable, if you can call what she did explaining. That's all it meant to me: an aura of undefined, vague goodness. And that was the thing I had to be friends with in order to get my little sister. I was at a loss as to how to foster that friendship, so I gave the all-knowing, “Ohhh, okay.” and continued, “Well, how can I be sure that we are really good friends and that he will give me my little sister?” I had dealt my mother four Aces and she played them well.

“I think the best way, Liam, for you to be sure that that you're God's close, close friend is by doing what he wants you to do and all you need to do is ask him every night for your little sister until you wake up one morning and she's there.”

“Okay, but what does he want me to do?”

“Oh yes, of course. Long story short, Liam, for now all he wants is for you to obey and listen to me.” And with a wink she added, “No more sprinklers.”

After weighing whether the price was worth the product, I nodded and blurted, “Alright, if its sure to get me a sister.” and started toward the door for the swing.

If only my young head had appreciated fully the weight of my mother's answer, “No, my love. Sorry, but nothing in life is for sure.”


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.....So there it is. Sorry if the format was confusing...blogger is stupid and it disregarded all of my indentations etc...I am far to lazy to do it again when its already there on my word-processor. And after all, I am writing this for no other person than myself, so if any of you read/enjoy it, it'll just be a bonus. 

I know that probably sounded really self-centered, but it really makes any sort of potential pressure nonexistent, so that's my mindset. And, well, I'm a bit self-centered--but aren't we all?

I also have really good news to share about my triathlon stuffs. I heard yesterday that I have been selected to represent Team USA at the Pan-American Championships in June, which awesome because I really wasn't expecting that. And the training is going awesome. And SUMMER IS ALMOST HERE!!!!!Everything is awesome.


Till next week,


Peace. 


  

And so it begins.

Well, sort of. All I am going to give you for now is this lame intro/forward thing. I probably should have edited it, but I haven't yet, so you get the raw, uncut version. Enjoy and stay tuned for Chapter the first next week!

Here it is:

I have often wondered whether I would actually get around to doing this, and it seems I have. I still don't know why, exactly, I am giving an account of my life for all the world to know and to judge, but I guess that's just what people who have led extraordinary lives do, so I have decided to float with the current and here I am formulating a sequence of ordinary letters in order to inform you of an extraordinary sequence of events.

What you will gain, if anything from your delving into my story, I cannot say. That depends entirely on you, the reader. You may merely get a laugh, but I hope you delve more deeply than that because a life, if perceived in the correct manner, is a spring from which actions flow forth; actions—good and bad—that can guide and teach you; actions that can better the understanding you have of your life. Please learn then, if you can, from both my mistakes and my triumphs. At the same time, if all you get get out of reading this story is a laugh, that's something and that something has worth.

Now I will explain some things about how I am writing this chronicle. First, it will have three parts. Second, my life has been made upon thoughts that appeared random in the present, but actually turned out not to be. That's just how I work. The problem, for you that is, is that's also how I write; kind of in all directions. If I am writing and the subject on which I am articulating pops a thought into my head, well, I'll jot it down, perhaps even if its mid-sentence. I think that would be overly confusing for most normal people, so for the  sake of your emboldening I will put those not-so-random, random thoughts in bold. Like this. I'm not really sure if that whole emboldening thing worked. In fact it didn't, but it amused me, so it doesn't matter. Shut up please. It was funny...And so on and so forth. Its like having parentheses but not. That's not too hard for you ordinaries, is it? While we're on the subject of ordinaries, I tertiarily want to have a word or two about words. I like words, especially big ones. I think of myself as quite loquacious. Scratch that. I am the epitome of loquaciousness. That being said, I am going to employ restraint and use colloquial expressions so that my story is comprehensible to the masses, both because I think most everyone can benefit from reading it and because I loath those who pompously use impressive words just to look intelligent. Then again, it is most amusing when those pompatic individuals misuse their 'impressive' vocabulary. Is it not true to say that everything finite has a flip side? Plus, it is much more fun to make up one's own words. In fact, I have done so twice in this paragraph alone.

Enough with the explanations. Let us move on. To tell you the truth, I don't get the whole autobiography thing because it is imperfect; it is without an end. Perfection is, as far as I'm concerned, the only state worth working for, so I am going against my normal code in writing this story. Or rather, part of a story. I have problem. How shall I end it if it does not end at the end? Am I to say, “I shall live happily ever after.” in a reassuring manner? That's the way the majority of stories end anyway. The only problem with that is, well, I don't know if I will indeed live happily ever after or not. Anything can happen. Hope, then, is the only viable option: hope that I find a way to end-but-not-end my story without awkwardness; hope that I do live happily ever after. Will you hope with me?

-L.E.

Aug. 9^th, 2054

Happy Easter!!!!!!!

Unfortunately for me, its not feeling happy right now.
I feel incredibly sick. My stomach is in shock.
It feels like a bloated pregnant cow,
Please, just take me to the block,
I wanna die,
So I can fly,
Into the sky,
Watch;
 See me try.

...And blah blah blah.


...Am I not a poetic genius?

I crack myself up sometimes; but usually not.

--Oh, I forgot to tell you why my tums is aching. Well, I found out that after not eating since Thurs., eating a SlimJim, candy, a doughnut, part of another doughnut, part of an apple fritter, an apple, some ham, some strawberries, and two bagels, with an occasional deluge of milk thrown in, is not the way to get your stomach reacquainted with the concept of food.

I'm gonna blow guys.

And I don't recommend being in the same county when I do. Its very probably going to be quite messy.

Anyway, I'm gonna go catch some sleep before my sister comes to pick me up for a party. Hopefully that will better my condition. Somewhat.

In other news, my story is coming along and it will be debuting on Wednesday, so stay tuned. Also, today I was crawled upon by an artificially albinofied black widow. On my foot. It was scary. True story.

Till next time,

HAPPY EASTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(again)
 
-Thomas

Is it really Wednesday?

I was trying to decide whether or not I'd post today, as its only been two days or something since I last was one here, but then my play practice got cancelled and that conveniently decided things for me. So here I am. Yayyyyyyyyy...I guess. Anyway, as you have hopefully by now deduced, this is not a "real" post. At all.

In fact, all I'm here to say is that I really don't have a post for you.

But I have been thinking. Quite a lot. And my thoughts will, if everything turns out, turn into a great many sequential posts. I've had this sort of idea for quite sometime and...

Okay, I might as well get to the point for the dimmer of you. I'm going to tell you a story. If you want to know whether it will be excellent or not, sorry, I really don't know. Also, please get this straight. I'm not writing a book. I'm telling a story, that may seem like a book, because I want to and I think it will be fun. The only reason that I'm sharing it with you is because...well, I guess there two reasons...one, I don't want to just quit this blog, and two, I want to finish at least a third of it.

So.

I will be back next week with the forward. With luck....please wish me it.

But to remind you: it is a simple story, nothing big; just fun. If you end up liking it, good; if you don't, then you can move on and hold your peace.

Don't expect much.

-Thomas

Announcements!!!

Life is going well, but that's not really what I'm posting about. Before I get to what I'm really posting about, though, I'll give you a little update. The weekend was crazy. And fun. There was a dance. It was amazing.

...There's the update. It funnels nicely with the 'announcement' I'm making. You see, I've been thinking about this blog a lot lately; more particularly the lameness of this blog. Most of what I talk about is about stuff I do. And my audience either was with me and therefore has no reason to hear me talk about it, or was not with me and either has no interest or feels excluded.

Take the dance. I could have gone on and on about how awesome it was and gone in-depth into the amazing moments and the mortifying ones. But I can't do justice to it for those of you who weren't there and why the heck would you want to hear me talking about it if you were there? So I'm not going to talk about it. Pretty much all I've done is blather on about my little, insignificant life and although its nice to know that so many read it anyway, I feel like I'm wasting your time.

All this, coupled with the fact that I really need to up my concentration on certain aspects of my 'real' life; namely, school and training, I think I'm going to cut back on this thing. A lot.

So here's the idea for going forward: I will be posting once a week, either on Wednesday night or Thursday morning, (please don't kill me if I don't get one up occasionally) and the posts will be more creative and hopefully much more worthwhile. Every once in a time, if something really big happens in my life, like winning the World Championships or getting married, I'll let you know. Promise.

Thanks so much and TTFN,

-Thomas  

Kind of potentially bad news. :(

I have some bad news that I've put off talking about for a couple of weeks, but both because I should probably tell you and because I can't think of anything else to write about at the present moment, I think I'm finally going to break the news.

It has to do with my triathlon stuff. You see, the international governing board of triathlon, (ITU) has radically changed the classification and selection criteria for para-triathletes in order to make everything more competitive. And I'm all for that because last year at World's there were people who didn't belong. Its just unfortunate that it all had to happen the year following the disaster last season was for me because my results are just on the cusp of being good enough to get selected, so if I had had a healthy season I would be a lock to get in.

As a result of this things are kind of up in the air right now. For everyone. People don't even know what category they are going to be in. Anyway. In order to get into World's this year, you need to have a certain amount of international points, which you get by competing in international races. The international races, though, have a 60 athlete limit. That's an average of 6 athletes per class, per gender. I know, crazy, right? In order to get into the international races, your national governing body participates in this "draft" with the other national governing bodies, each taking turns selecting their top athletes for the start list. They have to do this because no one has points right. Its just a mess right now and as I was only the second fastest U.S. athlete last year, I probably won't make the start list for the international races and so will have no way to qualify for World's. Its not an impossibility, but I wouldn't bet on it.

Anyway. All this is kind of a bummer. I'm training harder and smarter than I ever, though, and the plan is to do some local races and then blow the field away at Nationals (which are in Sept., after World's for some reason) and be like, Hah! Joke's on you! You should have picked me, but you didn't. Too late now. Heheehehe.

The thing is that although its a bummer, just as very few things in this world are perfect, so too, very few things are bad to the core. I was going to miss weddings due to my races and its also my last summer before college, so it'll be really nice having it more relaxed. And I'll be able to spend way more time with my friends, who are the best, so how can I complain?

Well, that's it. I have to go read my philosophy now.

TTFN.

-Thomas

Well look who's back...again.

I am slowly coming to grips with the fact that Holy Week is next week. Like, what happened to lent? Wasn't Ash Wednesday just the other day? Man, time flies! I must admit that I'll be somewhat sad when lent draws to its end. I mean, sure, all that fasting and giving stuff up can be inconvenient, even painful at times, but that sense of making spiritual progress; that precedence we give our spiritual lives; that spiritual awareness; that examination and definition of our hearts is what I am going to miss. I suppose all that is supposed to continue, but I'm not holy enough and each year I get distracted. So yeah.

Easter makes up for the loss of lent, though. In in of itself, Easter is by far my favorite holiday. There's just something so magical about it. I get all goose-bumpy just thinking about the Vigil. And its almost here guys, its almost here! Just being able to say that-word-that-you're-not-supposed-to-say-during-lent is awesome. When I think about what my favorite holiday is, really can't decide between Christmas and Easter. With Christmas there's a longer break from school, and tons of presents, but Easter is just so—so Easter-ish....its so cheery and bright and wonderful, and we get to light a dead tree on fire at church in the middle of the night, so that's a bonus. Ugh. I can't make up my mind. I guess I just like them both amazingly well.

And now for the top 10 recommended things Not to do.

1. Chug an Arnold Palmer and down two large burritos before sprinting/working out.
2. Bomb hills in the middle of the night with your friends, on a single bike. Scratch that, don't bomb hills at night at all.
3. Accidentally go into public restrooms designated for the opposite sex, as it is somewhat embarrassing.
4. Put your mp3/ipod through the wash.
5. Try to fix your camera by putting liquid lubricant in the lenses.
6. Put your pants in the wash with a highlighter in one of the pockets.
7. Wave at someone you don't know very well while holding a full cup of water in your waving hand.
8. Say, “See ya babe” to one of your friend's parents when getting out of the car after getting a ride from said parent, unless you love walking.
9. Insult people who have the ability to beat the living daylight out of you because they eventually will.
10. Go to McDonald's right before choir practice, unless you enjoy having a bubble zone.

...And I may or may not have done everything on this list. I'm one those hands on people who really learn from direct experience. Translation: I'm an idiotic maniac who doesn't learn unless its the hard way.

And you and quote me on that.

I wonder if you can actually read this font.

TTFN

-Thomas

I guess that's what happens when your lil' bro makes breakfast.

I love the saying, The road to hell is paved with good intentions. This morning I experienced an extremely tangible situation that proves its correctness, not that anything really needs to be proved as it is so obviously correct, but you know, whatever. Now, back to the story. My brother got up and decided to be a perfect angel and make breakfast for everyone. The result was oatmeal. Freaking oatmeal. I mean, if that's not hell on earth, I don't what is. And it was rolled oats, not steel-cut. It's lent, so I forced them down, but I'm not going to lie: it was painful. I really don't see why people eat it. You'd think that it would be simple, but apparently its not. Like, I don't know what's so hard about grasping the concept that oatmeal is, a) horse food and b) not people food. Actually, this has given me an amazing idea. I could pay my brother to smuggle every last oat out of the house and feed the feed (the appropriate name, fyi; it doesn't deserve the title of 'meal') to his horses. Well, its an idea. We'll see.

Three exciting things have happened to me since we talked last. The first has to do with eating. Guys, I had Brussels sprouts for the first time ever! Believe it or not, I had never had them before Sunday. I think that was due both to the fact that my parents don't like them and that they kind of have this, shall we say, unfavorable reputation. They had always been this unimaginable evil; I knew they existed, but I had never experienced them, they were to me a mysterious, undefined aura of darkness and malevolence. And then I tasted them. And, as far as greens go, they weren't all that bad. I even liked them. Somewhat. Anyway. It was kind of cool because Brussels sprouts are more central than some of the characters in the play that I'm acting in, so I was curious as to what they actually taste like. 

Okay, the second event is actually kind of embarrassing. I really don't like moths. Especially moths that are inside. They just are--unnerving. And you can't just kill them because they get really big. Two nights ago my 23 year old sister came up to my room, about an hour after we (my brothers and I) went to bed. I was just about asleep, you know that semi-conscious sate, and she comes barging in raising hell about this moth "that's as big as a bat" etc. Because I was only partially awake, (at least that's my excuse) the picture of the moth grew to that of a super-terrestrially sized moth, and I genuinely did not want to meet it in one on one combat  because, with something of that size it would most probably have been to the death. I gallantly told my sister to lock the moth-bat in the bathroom and then I'd take care of it in the morning. She wouldn't stand for it. Thankfully, my little brother (the horses one) is the "tough guy macho man" of the family and he got up and took care of it. If he hadn't overcome his laziness, my guilt would have overcome my fear, so its a good thing he got up because I really didn't want to face that moth. 

And I saved the best for last. This morning a received a $15,000 sponsorship from rightbacksports.com. I guess now I don't have to get a summer job. Isn't life awesome?....If you're me hehehehe.

Well, *careless, sophisticated yawn* I need to toddle off to the bank and deposit some green stuff.

TTFN

-Thomas, who just told a terrible lie and who is probably going to have to get a summer job. :( But he did just get invited to another HP training camp next month, so that's cool....but admittedly not quite as cool as $15,000

I just made myself want to go camping.

Hello there again. We haven't met for an extended period of time, have we? Since before weekend, if my memory serves me well. To, be honest, though, I have a legitimate excuse. I went camping in the Sierras over the weekend with a bunch of friends and so did not have internet access. The camping went tolerably well, discounting the sleepless nights, the 80 year old's that were getting drunk and blaring their awful music till 4 in the morning, the bears, the opossums, the squirrels, the bugs, the dirt, the food, and the corpse my friend found in her tent. It was a fake corpse, though, and yet for some imponderable reason she didn't take it very well. Upon further reflection, it probably wasn't the best of ideas to pull that prank, especially because we were telling ghost stories around fire that night. You should have heard her scream; it would have chilled your very bones.

She was actually pretty cool about it, all things considered. All she did was line our sleeping bags with honey and marshmallow fluff the next day. And yes, I was the first one to go to sleep that night, and yes, the honey-marshmallow combination was not the most pleasant to sink into at the end of what had been a quite tiring day. But we deserved it. Emphasis on the we. At least I emphasized the we. To the extent that I played it cool until my three buddies came to get into their warm, cozy, sleeping bags for a nice night's sleep. It seemed an eternity before they were finally in the tent and starting to crawl into their sleeping bags. I must confess that I saw with a certain amount of glee that they took neither their socks nor their jackets off before they unknowingly engulfed themselves in unwanted gooey-ness. The predictable result of their slothetic hygiene was that they didn't realize anything abnormal for about 30-45 seconds. It was a longer time, or at least it seemed so, than I would have thought, and the awful idea that maybe I was the only one she did it to, crept into my mind and filled it with despair--was all this lying here in grossness for nothing, I asked myself. But then, right as I was on the brink of 'fessing up and despairing, they started reacting and saying things that are probably best left unrepeated. Then I let on that she hadn't dressed my bag and they were infuriated because the prank had kind of originated in my head. It glorious. Then we had to take our clothes and sleeping bags and put them in trash bags, to be dealt with upon our return. (pressure washing did the trick, in case you were wondering) And we had to do without for the rest of the weekend. Without our bags, that is. Thankfully, even my buddies had spare at least one spare change of clothes.

To honestly be honest, actually, I didn't go camping. I did have a jam-packed weekend, though. I finished all the reading for one the classes I'm doing this year and now all I have to do is a paper. So be jealous. But seriously. I was home for a total of 4 and a half hours during the period between 8:30 in the morning and 10:30 at night over this past weekend. It was crazy. It involved volleyball, cruise night, adoration, a movie night, the beach, going to my brother's tetatrathon, (which he dominated, btw) seeing the new Captain America movie, going to an after party at which there was a chocolate fountain,  going to my friend's house for the entire day, and then going to someone's house for dinner. For desert there was strawberry shortcake and creme brulee. Again, be jealous....it reminded me of the days when my brother and I would play with my mom's brulee torch and invariably get into trouble for it....flames are so fascinating

Anyway. I gtg, so ttfn.

-Thomas

THE WORST FEELING IN MY LIFE. EVER.

Hello again. I have just returned from doing the most immature thing I've done since that time with the place and the thing, 19 months ago. Let's start at the beginning...

I went to play volleyball with my friends, and it was super fun. Not to pat myself on the back or anything, but we are actually getting pretty good. When the dust cleared, my friend and I were left to disassemble everything by ourselves. And my friend had a gnarly bee sting, so he was a lot of help. (jk man) Then I lugged the beastly set 1 mile and a half to this corner market that makes these huge burritos. My friend is super holy, so he gave up meat for lent. Consequentially, I didn't want to be wolfing down a meat-laden burrito in front of him. They had a vegetarian option, so I thought I'd give it a try and promptly ordered it. My friend saw what I was doing and told me that the veggie option was gross and to order a meat one. So I asked the kind lady at the counter id she could switch my order to a carnitas burrito. I got a "Yes" and waited for my order. 

A few minutes later, the long awaited brown paper bag appeared on the pick-up counter. I got up and took the bag, it had "2x$3.99" written on. The kind lady at the counter doesn't have the best of English, she thought I had said, and carnitas. To further complicate things, I was on the phone. That, plus the fact that they had already made it and I'm non-confrontational, made me just let it go and buy them both. 

Oh, I've mentioned the phone haven't I? Its actually rather important. You see, I was trying to convince her to let me skip out on swim team and hang out at my friend's house. Alas! It was not to be. She told me that I had to go. The problem was that I had somewhat foolishly depended on her letting me skip. That why I got the burrito. Or rather, burritos. Now I was stuck, 5 min. before my workout was supposed to start with two ginormous burritos and an Arnold Palmer. My friend and I dropped the volleyball net at his house, picked up a sweater for him, and headed down to the pool. 

I was still faced with a dilemma: what to do with all the food? On the way down, we came up with a "brilliant" idea. I was to challenge myself by eating both burritos, chugging the Arnold Palmer, and then immediately doing a 100 freestyle sprint off the block, with my friend kindly providing the precautionary trashcan at the wall. Surprisingly, my coach gave the ok, and I got started. I was full by the time I was halfway done with the veggie one. And I still had the carnitas left, But I stayed in the moment and persevered, taking it one chomp at a time. I cannot describe the pain. The very thought of food makes me sick. And the pressure. I felt as if the whole world was watching and depended on me. I finished the food, and the 100 remained. There I was on the block, facing destiny. I came, I saw, I conquered, and held it all in as a bonus. But then I has the rest of my workout to do and...Gosh! It was awful. We were, naturally, starting a really hard interval set that included sprints. Just my luck. But I deserved it. I'm such an idiot. I've learned my lesson though. I guarantee that I will never eat two huge burritos and chug an Arnold Palmer before working out. What that they always say...You live and you learn. I definitely learned.

Looking back, I am in a state of total disbelief and disgust. I can't believe I thought something that gross and stupid was a good idea....They say hindsight is 20-20. They speak the truth. And now you know why I titled this, the ramblings of a teenaged athlete, not, the ramblings of an athlete. 

Anyway. I hope that kind lady at the counter uses that extra money to enroll in English 1 at the community college. 

-Thomas, who doesn't want to have to grow up and need of the directions to Neverland.

Just a little something to make you smile.

Sorry. I'm not really in the mood for writing a post right now. Translation: I'm feeling lazy and would rather be wasting my life on YouTube or something. Anyway. I found this and its so cool that I needed to share it with you. If only there were more people like this in the world. Here is the link by clicking here 

Enjoy!

TTFN.

-Thomas

A foolish April fool's.

Or rather, an unfruitful one.

I feel like such a dope! I didn't pull any exciting prank off yesterday. In my estimation, my best chance was to pull one off at youth group, so I waited for that time with keen anticipation, but then I wasn't able to go because I was at a friend's house who was grounded. This all wasn't optimal, but I made the most of it, and seeing as he is my closest friend, we made a good time of it anyway. We seriously have the funniest relationship. One moment we'll be cracking jokes with one another and having the craziest of times, and the next we will be seriously discussing not only our problems and mysteries, but the problems and mysteries of humanity, the universe, and infinity. We have this amazing connection that lets us serve each other in the dual capacity of a personal jester and that of a psychiatrist....I have such good friends...I feel almost spoiled. Anyway. Tangent much? Back to April fool's. I did get pull a small one off on my civics classmates. You see, we had this quiz on the Civil War in which none of us got an "A" and with which now of us were pleased with. Well, after the class, I went with our teacher to get a book that he recommended to study for my research paper. While talking with him, I realized that the pants I was wearing were exactly the color that the Union soldiers wore, so when I came back into the classroom I told my friends that I had convinced our teacher to give an automatic "A" for wearing my Union soldier pants. And I got a couple of them for a few seconds. If you knew our teacher it would have seemed plausible, so as fantastical as it sounds. But still. It wasn't anywhere near what I wanted to pull off. Oh well, next year. :)

Right now, my preoccupation is the act of trying to get preoccupied, for I am feeling somewhat restless. I think I'm off to read some Lord Peter...anything to keep me from thinking. Anyway, just thought I'd pop in so that you'd know that some idiot hadn't got it into his head that he should kidnap me for April fool's, or something of that nature. :)

   TTFN.

-Thomas