Unproclaimed Words Of A Teenage BoyMature

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Half awake , eyes squinting to the bright light, cold , tired, another morning to another day, waking slowly as my usual self does, as to a bear coming out of hibernation. I’m not a morning person, lots of people aren’t; at least that’s the way I see it, but im just a teen no reason to listen to me. I wasn’t hung over today, it was a school day, if I took the risk of showing up to classes with a hang over , their wouldn’t be a point of being there head ache and all; but I guess you gotta drink some time right? I mean its always fun isn’t it? Like the time you had so much to drink you got all depressed over a girl and tried to kill yourself, or how about the time when you decided to use cocaine and overdose on it and your friends helping you out in all, leave you in a wheel barrel call 911 and walk away. I mean that’s gotta be fun right? It’s not fun, but we do it all anyway; to be popular, to impress our friends, we do it just to do something that weekend, have something to talk about when we get back to school. Were just a bunch of kids growing up, we got our parents on our case all the time. It’s funny though cause they almost always act like they never drank or partied when they were our age but we all know they did. It’s for them to hide that fact when you hear them bring it up with relatives at family reunions or when there close friends are over and reminiscing about the past. Who are they to judge us? Sure, sure they care and they use that as there number one defense, "I care about you, you shouldn’t drink so much." It’s like some huge guilt trip from our parents, for instance when they say there disappointed for the first time ever and it hits you , but why? Were just doing what they did, life at this age is meant to be fun; isn’t it?

 

~

 

Shaking, shaking, shaking, the bed springs clerking up and down from the pressure and movement. " Get up!; Get up! , I called you half an hour ago and your still laying here, your gonna miss the bus if you keep that up." This my mom, telling me everything I already knew im just a know it all teen to everyone yea know, except this was the second time this morning she had woken me up so maybe im not as smart as I look. Aggggh..... disgruntled pleasure standing to my feet with a long wailful yawn, now scavenging around my room grabbing what I could see of my dirty laundry; yesterdays clothes of course, just tossing them into the laundry basket on my way to the bathroom. Flick the light switch on my way into the bathroom; Vro...Vro vrooo ......nnnhnhhnh , this the noises of the fan that turns on with the light, always I wonder when that dame thing is going to fall out of the ceiling and hit me square in the head. My mom always and I mean always wants me to go fast in the bathroom, always telling me to have a shower but, I like slow so I have a bath. It takes a while, but that’s perfect, it gives me time to brush my teeth and flex muscles in the mirror that I don’t have. Lots of kids chose to work out in Physical education, I on the other hand would rather do a lap of the field , great cardio not great for my flexing muscles though. It always seemed like such a chore yea know, up , down, up , down, up, down, always so boring then I got friends saying " how aren’t you able to work out, look at your brothers;" Phh , the funny thing with that is that they make it sound like weight lifting is in my blood or something but truth has it that my brothers were just as skinny until taking steroids and owning there own gym, so in a way there no better than me, but im no better than them for not trying. You see to succeed in the object before me I haven’t really failed until I really try to lift weights. I don’t need muscle though , well not the overrated type, theirs no need for it unless of course I wanted to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger which I don’t. Out of the bath now, running to my room, clothes all over in different stacks; black shirt, white socks, Wearhouse One low cut jeans, their not tight emo ones though, but what if they were? Would people think I go home and cut myself cause of what I wear how Sinicle is our conscience, this is the kind of world where fashion is image of ones standards. Oh yes I can’t forget my blue Denver Hayes boxers, that grey hoody I always wear on those cool nights that I chose to run down to the bridge passing a silent village that’s filled with wonder I run up to the small bridge and I stop and I glance down over to the river bed and I see constant memories of fishing with my friends then turning around as if to find my beat in my breath; looking down placing those black Vans sneakers on my feet my left shoe with black laces and my right with white laces, a look of security to the one wearing them nothing to do with colour of skin or a spectacle of attention there just shoes with a boy in them. Running much faster now I steam up from the back of the building A.K.A. my house, to the front of the building my parents café "Malakwa Café." Yes, yes I know your confused thinking oh my god where does he live ? Well its this little town or village if you will about thirty minutes away from a bigger town called Salmon Arm , there known fro there jewels and golds basketball teams wearing the school colors of yellow and blue often ranked top 10 in the province of British Columbia; now as I was saying my parents Rhona Martin and Brian Croft not married , im a bastard child, have a café and built in and attached on is our house, with a slap together open minded set up look to it , yet very warm and bright with the recently re painted living room walls with the off set white look to it. The café on the other hand has a look of an old dark dinner , yet you wouldn’t know this feeling with the windows providing much light making it a more open environment to enjoy your meals and of course your coffee, I yet only realized the greater look of the café the rustic cedar walls with the room filled with my mothers teapots, her collection starting so small now so grande amazing how that happens isn’t it? From one to hundreds in a spread of a few years, a few birthdays and Christmases. Now out I come backpack on my left shoulder lunch made in my hand, the look of beginning of the day , the one you see in movies the have a good day at school moment so little yet in films as a characters first day of school, so what’s the brilliance of it all. I can still remember my first day , it was a big deal, my grandma Isabel walked me across the road and we waited, I still have that photo around somewhere; now however I don’t walk across the road due to re enforced rules of the school district and now the driver waves us on rather then us as passengers just stepping aboard feeling our own security rather that a drivers decision to put us on at their accord. Ready now I strap that very dependable black and blue backpack on my shoulder again, its lasted a while now, 4 years I guess with two Europe trips, now those were fun, that was the first time I was ever really truly drunk and those were some great memories to be had. All ready and set a yellow bus seen and told about but I knew it was a bus, my bus to ride on , I know now its time to go. Waiting out in the c old only a moment, then she pulls up; lights flashing stop sign popping out the side then finally her signal to come aboard. "Good morning" says Kathy in her usual format, this the words of our bus driver, the one that drives oh so slow yet always looks out for us while doing so I mean, if she didn’t take the time to drive slow and pay attention to the road I could be saying this from a grave, except I don’t want to be buried I want to be burned and turned to ashes, this way ill be spread all over the world and ill enjoy it god ill enjoy it even if I am dead cause we died on the school bus but really we didn’t , we have a good bus driver a veteran bus driver in the sense of experience not age or level. Scrambling now to find a seat, I finally found a seat, its near the mid-section of the bus, seat 11 I think it was, sitting here now I make myself comfortable ; knees raised digging into the seat, its always better if there’s a fat kid sitting in front of you that way their weight holds your knees in place and there’s much more comfort over a skinny lite weight because with the skinny kid your knees are always falling and it’s a pain in the ass when that happens. Opening my backpack now I reach in and pull out my tangled knotted headphones and my I-pod, placing one in each ear staring the music on a lower volume set then off to high volume so I don’t have to listen to everyone’s stories and problems on the bus its just so annoying, peoples problems that is. The slow yet safe drive now begins , straight up to the STOP sign , about 100metres away then taking a left then a right onto the Trans Canada Highway 1, now straight on out passing a mill and houses then the last campground on that stretch the KOA campground; I worked there you know. That was my first job, I cleaned the pool there every morning over the summer, it only took two hours but it was worth it for some reason it was enjoyable I don’t know why though. The owner then was my friends parents Hosts if you will at least that’s what the KOA corporation rather preferred they call themselves. I however knew them simply as Maurice and Donna Lepage, very nice people no longer owners there now though Maurice sold the campground to his brother, I golfed with his brother well his other brother Wilfred, the one that took it over was Donald I think, I dunno I don’t go around there anymore, probably better off anyway. Bump bump! Always so annoying those pot holes, well there’s lots of them I hate; It’s a mine field of potholes going from Malakwa to Sicamous, now Sicamous that’s a small town its not considered a village this time, mainly because it has a much higher population than Malakwa. Sicamous is actually known for something, well so is Malakwa but weed is illegal so that doesn’t count, it used to have it’s mill though, its big mill that is; it employed a lot of people In both Malakwa and Sicamous until they shut it and laid a lot of workers off that is. Now then The Houseboat Capital of Canada, that’s what Sicamous is labeled as or that’s what there proud of, I don’t see why I mean WOW!! A big trailer with pontoons on the water; that’s a real achievement eh gawd now im really rolling my eyes, why couldn’t they just keep money out of town pride, now then "town pride" only one thing in Sicamous that’s better than the beach and that’s our hockey; Already having two players in the NHL with action and more draft picks waiting for game time. The there’s the Sicamous Eagles Junior "B" hockey club, a once great power house hockey club now an embarrassment to league standings, picking players short of raw talent giving up home boys for players from Kelowna who have half the talent and half the heart, picking a team that can’t play the game well playing for the name on the back not the name on the front of the jersey, its sad really that the young kids all around come here and have them to look up to. Management must not know that we want a winning team they must not know that we want a group of hometown boys gracing our ice, its an embarrassment to the town when they bring in others to try and put up a winning team that appears to suck ass, that’s no disrespect to the players before them because they were champions unlike our dysfunctional team to date. When will the tide turn when will ignorance not blind power when will the little guy try out for the team and make it , when will a home town born and bred hero put on an eagle uniform and score the game winning goal just to prove a point , skill exceeds but heart is what gives you greatness something our players lack. There is that fact that they come from far and wide and they come to our school, the overlooked eagles player the look of a jock chewing everyday rarely in class and we have girls here that love them; the pucks but of course wasting every second of every min trying to get in bed with them, the prettiest of girls throwing themselves away for nothing but a lie, you see each of the guys just has a girl waiting back home ;oh the trickery ,the life of a puck. These are my opinions on our hockey club, I just remember a time when I was much younger and that same team that same logo was feared by other teams in the league, what happened to pride in all this. After all its more than just a sport its supposed to be a players way of life, and it shows that there way of life is dead when their not winning.

 

 

~

 

 

We pass so many campgrounds on this ride to school, if only we could pause in standstill with tents and campfires all being one; this statement of one is unjust in this world and our school, why do we chose hate over dislike? Is it cause it’s a shorter word, easier to say; judgement in this futile age will override the makers of the look. I had to try and sound smart haha, that’s my way of saying that our opinion on others will rise to deformed growth and will show within our school body. Before it was always jocks and geeks but now its grown to the proportion of emos, greasy kids, smokers, jocks , geeks, tough guys, fatties, pucks, eagles, preps; its all just a lie , if we took off whatever it is that hides who we really are, we could see a better brighter world. Now entering Sicamous, population 3,000 , Houseboat Capital of Canada, I wonder if they can really be the Houseboat Capital of Canada, probably not, but it gets the tourists which equals money within the community. Thump,thump,thump! Gotta love those potholes, I hope spring roles around soon, so they, the community can fix them. Slowing down now to 60km/h turning left, now right , passing the Tru-Value hardware store and pulling off to the right to reach the destination of Eagle River Secondary, our highschool. Pulling the headphones out of my ears now waiting for the call to get up. Phzz, phzz! "Safe to get up" all the static making it hard to hear Kathy but we all knew it was coming, were used to it , twelve years used to it, comforting in a way that these things never change but still just another rule to follow; another order to be pushed around to, what if we all stood up, took a stand, changed the rules? Would they allow for such involvement in the way the school system works? But then their rule on direct defiance comes into play, always over nothing, why do we as students fear those words or the person saying them, slowly coming out of our teachers mouth "Direct Defiance, got to the office," after all it is what were supposed to do, what were capable of , all were trying to do is better ourselves in an environment fit for teacher rule. We ask the questions they answer them that’s how it works, that’s how it always worked but now its turning to a dictatorship in the classes almost always looked down upon or seen differently just over the wrong answer or wrong frame of word. And then you wonder why your seen as an outcast , always judged , always shunned; this the life of a teen at one point or another in his or her life. Its funny now cause In English class were just told how to feel about a poem, there’s no our own feeling involved, it’s the teachers answer or nothing and what is te point, the writer of the poetry does not write for a teachers one answer yet for many answers that’s the joy of imagination we all see different things not always the same , we are all different yet all the same. Walking past I see a chocolate bar wrapper, I don’t pick it up, I don’t have such emotion over the well being of our schools grass. Last week in the bus line "keep off the grass; keep off the grass," every three minutes that’s what Mr.Beeftink would say, and what is the purpose of this? To keep it looking well and proper? Why is it such a big deal to him though? I mean yes he’s worked here for over twenty years, but what satisfaction if any does he get from that? I won’t ask, im sure the answer will be so long and well developed that ill fall asleep standing up, and Im sure everything he says will be ever so precise and right as usual in his classes, that’s how he is as a teacher, I always considered him to be the wisest of teachers, good for advice and knowledge, its hard to believe this 2008 year could be his last as a teacher, sad really, he likes it so much and its always a pleasure for students to be in his classes, I am sure he can do something else though, with less stress but deep down its not right you know that feeling , that itch after all im sure the school is probably as comforting as his own home after all the hours he’s put in to teaching. I think I’ll pick up that piece of garbage after all, save myself the guilt of hurting the environment even though I didn’t drop it in the first place. Walking straight now, along the warn out concrete path, it is winter time after all so the weather does have an effect on concrete, there’s no ice on it today just a puddle not clear though almost mud yet still not thick enough to stick. Now reaching the second door of three entrances a pause then a gawk then I walk in, always wiping my feet off on the green brown carpets, now stepping to the hall you can hear other students forcing the wet squishing sound from their shoes all the way down the hall, leaving a big puddle for the custodians to clean Im sure. Now why would you want to do that, I mean they’re nice guys always treating us as students well, saying hello when they see us and they’re always cleaning up after us; and sure its they’re job but we should also not be pigs and clean up after ourselves. I look left glance down the hall, this is the hallway for grade 12's, I should probably be in that part of the hallway but someone else got my locker. So I go right then left then right again, I now stand in front of locker 296, placed down the grade 8 hallway; the stinky grade 8 hallway I mean really is it that hard to use some deodorant or some bodywash so you smell at least half decent to the others in the school, but now im just being judgmental. Turn around, graduation photos on the wall, my graduation photo on the wall; this is grade 13 for me the allegations of me being a failure are very true. I never apply myself yea know, I always seem to have things under control but I don’t, I an normal after all. Its just the whole disappointment stage its still falling into place, I still haven’t felt the feelings of failure but when I do, its going to hit me hard. Not because I let my parents down, just because I let myself down, I never reached for any goals and now last year is all a bad memory filled with guilt and fear. I see more than just memories in that grad photo, I see friends some I hardly knew at the time, but they cared; you know the ones that would always ask what you were doing on the weekend and if you went then they would get you involved in their plans. These are the people I miss, all off working or going to college somewhere, its seems that the only time ill see them again is in the mall one day when were all a couple years older and will ask how things are as if we were much older ; but didn’t we just graduate ill tell myself as if I graduated with them. You see I don’t exactly like adopting change in my life, many people don’t. That’s probably why I came back trying to keep my feeling of youth in tacked , its not easy growing up yea know all the drama and depression all the stages of change even lead some people to suicide . Oh no 8:23am; I hope there’s still at least one blueberry bagel left in the cafeteria , straight then to the right through our gym doors take a right downstairs and Bingo!! Food!"Well Good morning Mr. Tanner , did you watch One Tree Hill last night?" "yea I did , it was ok Nathan better get rid of that babysitter though , yea I ll get the blueberry one and cream cheese please." This all coming from Adams mom Shannon, she’s a nice lady always giving us good healthy grub down in the cafeteria, this also being forced on by the uprising rate of obesity in our country, its sickening knowing that people are helpless to move only because they cant make the time to exercise and eat right; just poor costly habits I guess. Adam is well my friend, ex teammate in basketball and he helps me write songs, he graduated last year with my past. "Your bagels ready", "Thanks, ill cya later." Back up the stairs and too the bleachers in the gym, sitting now somewhat awake and chilled by the cool gym look. Over the past two years I have used up my life sitting or playing in this gym. The room that I value most in the school; so bare but great, we don’t need all the banners like most schools to enjoy what we have. There are no cuts in our school teams, everyone getting a chance to play, no matter their condition or skill level, this shows character in our school teams, we might not have a bunch of skilled players but we have fun and we have good memories. Click, Bam! Door slams shut, now 8:35am, no ones here might as well try and write a song again. Over this past year I’ve found myself with good rhyming and wording scheme when it came to songs. So I’ve been writing all these lyrics as a way to escape my real emotions on the world and my life, Its not some diligent excuse of counselor feeling crap, its art, its my form of wording how I feel about everyone and everything, read this for example its one of the better ones.

 

~Driving To Dead~

Beautiful girl come ride with me
my car is slow just like the moments we have
will get these feelings when we touch
all of this is not enough

first date drama , but where to begin
kiss me now and in an hour or so again
hold back on tears old memories just make you cry
smile once and then just die in my arms

Just hurry now and don’t be shy
were gonna be late, It’s the last chance to dine
It’s the last chance to dine

don’t know what to do
my feelings they were meant to be with you
And now were on our own
trapped inside this world
who are we now

last looks , and you accident prone
kiss me now and in an hour or so again
hold back on tears old memories just make you cry
smile once and then just die in my arms
Just hurry now and don’t be shy


were gonna be late, It’s the last chance to dine
It’s the last chance to dine.

It’s death it’s love its that feeling that you know who forever is with and for that one moment you’re the most alive. I write all these songs and then I get this feeling that what if they’re good enough to be good songs, and I pace and I pray that they are, If I could live a musicians life I would, but if I couldn’t Id make dam sure that people knew who wrote those songs. "Hey, Unky Tanny", I didn’t catch who said it but it was friendly; a friendly hello. Now what if I didn’t know the person yet they still say it oh so cuttle and why do they do this? For attention or just the importance of saying hello, sure its friendly but what made hello so popular to the unknowns. I am an uncle that is the first context of the name I was just called; I’ve been an uncle since I was two, I have 15 nieces and nephews to date. Annoying, fun, all still learning important values in life; this the way it should be, the learning stage if you will, finding responsibility, whether its mowing the lawn or helping dad fix the bobcat or maybe its taking care of your siblings while mom and dad are away. All new aspects in a pre teen era, In a persons life. Although emotions are higher and greed is well known with jealousy and at her age you wouldn’t think that a little girl could call 911, well my niece did and I was babysitting and she called 911 because I wouldn’t say "I love you" as an uncle. Where do all these immature reactions come from? I blame television, a teacher or politician would say, when really all it was, was her brother and sister. All speculation over so little truth. Beeeep! Time to start A block.

 

The End

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