Hello beloved and tolerated readers. How have you been? I have been well. I started classes two weeks ago and it is, as always, a blasty-blast. I may fill you in on all that business at a later date, but generally when I claim the
MB is going to do something in the future, that doesn't happen.
But today is an exception, today I tame the reigns of this runaway stallion of sad to follow a semi-linear semi-coherent semi-interesting story. An epic if you will, like the Illiad or Forrest Gump.
Here, on this venerable sheet of e-paper, I will document my Ninth Grade, Freshman Year at Trinity, memories. (very special ones).
As those of you who read this blog regularly (or as I call you, the multitudes) will recall. Earlier in the year after my overly long musical extravaganza; a young lady by the name of Meagan challenged me to write more about my experiences at Trinity, to satisfy some journey of self discovery that my magnificent works have clearly inspired. I decided to do this because I don't have anything else to do and because I am a gentleman. Like a young Ms. Fyock, she has given me an assignment.
Here is my essay prompt, much like the SAT, I will attempt to fulfill it to the best of my ability.
Meagan wrote, "Dude, reading your blog just now made me realize that I can't remember anything about Trinity. Who did I sit with at the lunch table? Who did I hang out with on a regular basis? Were we friends? If so, how did I not know about this long time obsession with that girl? I'm not kidding. I have some pretty vivid memories of being a cheerleader, and I remember driving out to Susie's house occasionally on Friday nights to watch Degrassi, but that's it. It's kind've making me sad. You should write more about people I know and times I know. Maybe things will start to come back to me."
The last two lines are the most important because they mention me, and not in a disparaging way with the word, "obsession." (I prefer healthy interest).
Since Meagan left my life (except in that entirely peripheral e-lationship sense) after or during my Sophomore year, she will be bored if I decide to continue this through all of high school. (Not really, I am supremely interesting).
Also, in the interest of interest I will attempt to mention regular readers of my e-thoughts and e-dreams and the impact they had on my young life.
Take yourself back to the Fall of '05 in Lubbock, Texas. I am 14 years old and full of myself. I have a record player, a vinyl copy of Yellow Brick Road (aspirations for more albums by straight men), and every Led Zeppelin shirt that Hot Topic can supply. Throw in some braces, long, unkempt, helmet-esque hair, and otherworldly pale skin, and you have 14 year old Kyle.
I've covered this before, but I wanted to go to Frenship (aka Doucheland) but my parents wanted me to have a more nurturing environment where I would have no chance of getting top 10% and thus I landed in Trinity.
Prior to class, I had to go and get a tour and take some tests with Mrs. Hill. The tour was underwhelming (the school is in an old Kmart) and Mrs. Wolcott was unimpressed by my Alegbra skills, but Ms. Fyock enjoyed my essay on a current event. (I think it was abortion). So i made it into Pre-Ap English.
The first day arrived. And I, dressed in an Old Navy polo and some ill-fitting khakis (the homeschool tuxedo) sat down in Bible.
I was perplexed, because everyone seemed much older than me, and I feared I was in the wrong class. (I didn't know at the time that Bible was desegregated). But Mr. Haladay (who is a wonderful person) called my name during the roll and my fears were assuaged. As he read the names off of the sheet I listened for anyone I might know from my previous years in Lubbock.
He called David, (it was David Gartz), and I searched expectantly, trying to find David Hutchens, and I remember thinking, "He's let himself go." Turns out it was not David Hutchens and I was too young to appreciate Mr. Haladay's insight.
Onward to math.
Math was packed with people that I would one day love and/or hate and/or make me miserable for a large portion of my life.
I sat at the very back behind a short character with elfish features. He introduced himself as Shye and we chatted for a bit.
David walked in, and this is not an understatement, the first semester of ninth grade, David was an ass.
I think he fancied himself some sort of Jack Black character (school of rock had just come out) and put on this obnoxiously energetic facade (which was later described as his "joy" and he apparently lost it).
Similarities Between 15 year old David and Jack Black
Fat
Differences Between 15 year old David and Jack Black
Funniness
Likeability
Now, I had never seen David in "his domain" of TCHS, where he grew up and knew everybody and "hung out" with seniors. So it was odd. I mostly remembered him as a lispy kid who watched the History Channel that I bombed around the neighborhood with.
So with him ignoring me, my only link to this strange, ritualistic world (Pledge to the Christian Flag anyone?) I was quite lost.
That was also my first class with, Donnie, Zach, Nathan, etc., people who I would eventually be friends with, but dismissed out of hand because I was down with Classic Rock and they were down with Newsboys.
This is also my first class with Claire. Her angelic 14 year old features drew me in instantly. Green eyes, brown hair, an Invader Zim backpack. We were perfect for each other, if only she would realize it. (this sentiment carried on for a long time).
After second period, we had the traditional "First Fruits Chapel," where I was greeted with a hearty handshake by a gentleman who introduced himself as, "Nick Jones." I sat beside him and Shye in my first ever Trinity chapel. Hosted by none other than Ernie Garcia (a man i never really appreciated as a speaker, he always came across as condescending).
Lunch was a lesson in awkwardsauce. I didn't know any of the guys and they came across as standoffish, so for the first week of school, I ate at the girls table. Looking back, it may be the lamest thing i've ever done, and i'm not terribly impressive.
Then drama with another force in my life, the irrepressible Debbie Boyle.
Mrs. Boyle should not have existed, she was like a cartoon character. Take every television stereotype about drama teachers and craft them into a majestic MiMi from La Boheme type character and you about have her. Boisterous and shameless, her antics ranged from sitting on a student, to re-enacting "The Catch" with only herself as both Flutie and the receiver. She was wildly entertaining.
This class also contained David "Grimace" Hutchens, as well as John Claborn, Jade, and others whom I would befriend in time.
But the shining beacon of the class was, once again, Ms. Claire. I sat with her and Carlie long enough into the semester to tell that it made them uncomfortable.
I was undeniably a ladies man.
My class was Baseball with Coach Bob Highley. Imagine the coach from Saving Silverman, except that he proselytized all of the time, and you have Coach Highley.
Prior to this year I had never so much as touched a dumbbell, so I was embarrassingly weak in the weight room. My baseball ineptitude never did change much.
I remained essentially a social pariah for the first 6 weeks of school. The only shining beacon was when a girl whom I found cute (jenna) remarked on my shoes, the pride of my wardrobe.
They were yearish old All-Stars that were ratty and ripped and decorated with the names of bands i love, written in faded blue bic ink that had accumulated over a year's worth of math classes.
Jenna came over and started reading all the bands on my shoes. Whenever she said, "I like pink floyd!" or "Led Zeppelin is awesome!" my little adolescent heart went all a-flutter.
For the 2 weeks prior to my first High School Retreat, i mostly tagged around Shye and Jenna.
My first ever High School Retreat rolled around and it was bore city. A lot of exceptionally unexciting chapel and overly structured activities. (every hsr after was much better).
The first half of the week i continued my strategy of hanging out with shye and jenna, but eventually, i think she realized that i had a crush on her and ditched me. So it was just Shye and I for the last bit of the week.
We climbed rocks and played football and all of the typical campy stuff, and i got to know my classmates a bit better. We all bonded over mocking david for hanging out at the senior table whilst wearing 4+ shirts to contain his Moobs.
The only thing that really came of that trip that became a part of the culture of our class was the descriptions for stretching before going on the ropes course. Up to the day we graduated, choruses of "Pot-Bellied Pig" and "Humpback Whale," could still elicit chuckles.
Throughout the duration of the trip, Jenna had often commented on how much she hated Trinity and wanted to transfer. I had always assumed these were useless laments, like the ones that i frequently voiced. But unlike me, Jenna had some sort of willpower and never came back to Trinity after the retreat. And that ends the story of my first attempt at high school romance.
Throughout this first part of the semester there had been two tools sitting in front of me in study hall. They were both tall, looked like the lifted heavily, and always shot me threatening looks, followed by snickers. One had light, short hair and the other's was wavy brown. Their names were Jade and Adam, and over the course of the year, they would become my best friends.
I don't know how Jade and I first became friends, but I know what event solidified our burgeoning relationship.
Jade had aspirations of becoming an amateur filmmaker. His attempts to hone his craft usually manifested themselves as him filming Adam doing something remarkably stupid and dangerous while he made strange noises into the microphone. He eventually started bringing his camera to school and filming innocuous pranks, like throwing food at sophomores.
One morning, he decided to up his game. For the past week, the freshman class had taken to kidney slapping each other in the hallways, and Jeff Reimer's reaction was always particularly comical, and Jade got it into his head to film said reaction and profit off of it somehow.
The stage was set. I would take the camera and hide in the super unnecessary backpack pile while Jade lured jeff out into the hall and slapped him. This was some Penn and Teller quality stuff.
The moment came, and with it... comedy gold.
The plan went off without a hitch, the slap, the scream, the laughter. Then the situation escalated; like an angry warthog, Jeff charged Jade and Jade (being much swifter) escaped and ran past my hidden backpack location. Jeff pursued, hit a backpack, and busted soundly on his belly.
This seemed at first to be a bit of immature fun, but the next day I was ushered into the office of Ernie G., our assistant principle.
Apparently the incident had infuriated Jeff's parents and Ernie thought, incorrectly, that since I was filming the ordeal, I was the ringleader. The meeting ended with him telling me that I should choose my friends wisely, and by choose my friends wisely, he meant not be friends with jade. In my rebellious young mind this firmly entrenched me in Jade's camp.
Soon, I was at Jade's house every weekend. His family was remarkably friendly and remarkably fit. A result of being Jade's new friend was that I spent a lot of time with his old friend, Adam.
In the beginning, Adam and I did not get along. He thought I was goofy looking and weird (both true) and I thought he was douchey and stupid (half true).
We finally bonded over Jade's turncoat actions.
The three of us had the idea to create a works bomb in order to rid Jade's backyard of wasps. After several dangerous chemicals and a loud "Kaboom!" We were in trouble.
Jade was already on his parents bad list and told Adam and I to take the heat for this hair-brained adventure. The three of us sat on Jade's tiny and awkwardly placed loveseat (its only purpose appeared to be for maximum chastation) while his mother ranted and raved at us indiscriminately. His dad then trundled in.
Matt is not a very intimidating man, clearly much more comfortable making teenagers laugh rather than squirm, but at the time Jade looked like he feared for his life.
Matt trundled in, scowling and bellowing. "Who's idea was this?!"
Immediately, Jade squeaked, "It was Ad-y-am."
Matt turned to Adam and I, our faces set in that bashful but amused way that all teenage boys grow to master, and proceeded to question, loudly and repeatedly, if we were, in fact, eaten up with dumbass.
After the fifth or six bewildered chorus, the situation resolved itself.
Adam started laughing, then I started laughing, then Matt started laughing, then Sandi, and finally, when he was sure the coast was clear, Jade.
This familial cheer bonded Adam and I, and we've remained friends since.
