Posts tagged ‘Dad’

March 3, 2011

Don’t Play With Guns.

Photo Via: Lemuel Leogene Reyes

Some of my readers know my father on a first name basis, so they know his personality. For those of you who have not read other posts about my father, you probably should take up the opportunity and do so. He calls it as he sees it, and tells you like it is. He is not afraid to speak his mind, even if it does hurt people along the way. He is one to tell stories in grave detail, and will always be the first to give you advice. His advice will be unlike any you have ever received; trust me on that.

Growing up the only topic my dad and I talked about was sports (And boys from time to time. Mostly that conversation started with, “Who is he? I thought we agreed with you can not date until you are married” and then ended with, “Well, always remember, be the dumper, not the dumpy.“). We both live, breath, eat, sleep sports. It was not until I was older that our topic of discussion widened to other subjects, such as college and life.

I remembered this conversation that I had with my father a few weeks ago, and decided to share it with you.

We were discussing a university shooting in Ohio. I read about it online, and was explaining the situation to my parents. It was a fraternity party that quickly turned bad. A fight had erupted and resulted with one of the boys shot another with a gun, ultimately killing the victim. My mother gives the typical motherly reply, “Oh how awful. What would make them do such a thing. That boy’s poor family.” My father, on the other hand, is like a light switch with his anger (Now that statement might make my father out to be one that has a problem with anger management, which is not the case. Some things really just set him off; for instance, one of his biggest yelling fest that I have witnessed was when he came home to dirty dishes in the sink. He hates that more than anything I believe. The things that really get his blood boiling are little silly things). His response was:

Why did he have to have a gun? Does no one know how to fight anymore? Only pussys carry guns, the ones that can not back it up. They just need to suck it up, get their ass kicked, then go home. That’s what used to happen when I was younger. If you ran your mouth you better be able to back it up, because if not it would be a long walk home. No one carried guns, unless you are going hunting. Only pussys that are scared to get their asses kicked carry guns.

Oh the wise words from my father. I get speeches such as these on a daily basis, even if they have no reverence to me. Instances such as this fuels me into writing a book of all of the things my dad says. Maybe some day I will, but for now, I will share my lessons learned from my father on here.

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January 17, 2011

Two Days Spent In A Car

This past weekend was one I am so glad (hoping) that I will not have to repeat it ever again, but I will relive it once more as I recap right at this moment.

The fish tank that was in my old dorm. They are the same fish from Finding Nemo. We named them Neems and Doris.

As I have a recently stated in a previous blog I am in college. In the fall of 2010 I enrolled in a college out in St. Louis. The drive from my hometown to the busy city is a good six hour haul – and that is on a good day. When I was first looking for a college I kept telling myself as well as everyone else “I want to get out of this town.” Most of the schools that I visited were out of state, and I know what you are thinking “God damn the tuition for out of state is ridiculous.” You see I am an athlete and I planned on playing soccer in college. I was not going to play anywhere outrageous such as USC or Ohio State, I shot for more of the Division II and NAIA rang. For those of you who are unaware, most D2 and NAIA schools offer a flat tuition rate, meaning zero out of state fee. You gotta love that, right?! Together my family and I went on over twenty college visits and met with just as many coaches.¬†We trekked all over the mid-west in search for a school. My choice was up in the air, until the day we made our venture to my St. Louis’s school campus. Almost instantly I fell in love with the school; there was not one flaw that I could pick out from it.A picture of my old dorm in St. Louis.

Move-in day finally rolled around and I thought that I was where I needed to be, boy was I more than wrong. Within the first month of school I knew it was not where I belonged. Nothing was gelling, and I wanted nothing more than to transfer. I put off facing the fact that I indeed wanted to transfer because I refused to be grouped with the kids that go off to college to only return home within the first month because they would not handle the big bad world. So I road that transferring fence for weeks, until I finally accepted transferring completely. Here’s the catch, I wanted to transfer after the fall and be enrolled in a school by spring 2011.

I will save the long details of everything in-between. I sat down with my parents and decided to go with a school closer to home, but not too close. I still wanted to be my independent self, just as I have always been. This time around the college was a three hour drive..score! That cut my previous time in half. My plans of playing soccer at the college level still remained. I am planning on playing soccer for the college in the oncoming fall, which I am more than trilled.

Now on to my weekend. Finally.

School starts on friday and I just completed all of my paper work in order to transfer, (Let me tell you, transferring is a bitch all in itself). Like I just stated, classes start on friday, and I have yet to move out of my old dorm – in St. Louis. It was go time! My dad, and my younger brother hoped in the car and drove to St. Louis to clean out of what was left in my dorm. We left at the crack of ass and arrived at my old campus and loaded up the car of my remaining dorm essentials in record time. We then piled back into the now tightly packed car to drive down to Kentucky. My new college is located in blue grass state, and our mastermind plan was to drop off my dorm supplies at my aunts house. She lived within miles of my new school, so she would do us the wonderful favor of hanging onto my things until move in day. Well this drive to Kentucky from Missouri is a five hour journey itself.

The car ride was getting to us, we were slowly, but surely, becoming more and more brain dead. Our first sign was from the question my brother asked:

“This town coming up, is it a city or country?” -My Brother.
“It’s a country, right next to Afghanistan.” -My father.
“Really?” -My Brother.
“No dipshit! Are you going to be this stupid your whole life?” -My father.

As you can tell, we needed out of that car. Finally a decade passed and we arrived at my aunt’s humble abode. We then unloaded what we just packed away hours before. Once that chore was done with it was time for some well needed sleep, or so I thought. Instead I stayed up talking to my aunt until two in the morning while my brother and dad were passed out in the other room. Around 1AM my brother came stampeding out of the room like he just saw a ghost. He then belted out “He is crazy, he thinks I am Mom!” Apparently my dad rolled over and put his arm around my brother, which completely freaked my brother out. I belted out with laughter, shit like that would only happen to him. The best part about it, my father had no recollection of it the following morning. Oh, the things we do in our sleep.

The following morning we drove three hours back home. Thank God! Home sweet home. I had never been happier to pull into my own driveway.

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