College Chaos September 25, 2009
Posted by Dev Riddle in life.add a comment
I have yet to apply to schools, but am already unsure of what this year may hold for me. Many have warned me not to become too involved with activities and school work in high school in fear I would burn myself out. Being my usual self, I have never listened and continuously packed more onto my metaphoric “plate” rather than cutting back on the stress. However, we are now almost a full month into senior year and I am already feeling the effects of “senioritis” and burning out. All the things I care so much for are not getting done, simply because I am usually exhausted. Whether it’s working, lighting, sound, drama club, student leadership, morning announcements, community service, AP classes, honors classes, or interning, I find myself putting things off more than usual and sometimes just not completing them. I will try to bounce back into things once I become used to my usual pattern, but I just hope it works.
This year is also one for the record books in other senses. Myself and other involved seniors are beginning to worry about the fates of the things and activities we care most about. With our whole class being incredibly active and organized, duties that keep these clubs running have fallen to us for almost four years and many of us have gained incredible trust around the school. It has helped the school keep going even in hard times and taught us many valuable lessons that will help us in life to at least some degree. However, it is now when we must all prepare ourselves and others to keep things going once we are gone. We hope and pray that things will work out; the pessimistic sides of us scream negatives in our ears though. Time to train our hardest to make sure that others can truly handle everything we have done. It will definitely be a challenge for us to let go.
The Art of Management September 25, 2009
Posted by Dev Riddle in life.add a comment
Life is full of work. The need for material goods or necessary items that every human suffers requires the ability to obtain money. Recently, I got a new job. This job is the first real job I can honestly say I’ve experienced and until recently I liked all the people I work with. But what boggles my mind is the idea that people do not like to see others enjoying themselves. You would think that the associates being happy would lead to better treatment of customers and their approval, but apparently no one but the “wrong-doing” employees feel this way. After being corrected rudely by a manager last night, I went to get my check today and was rudely corrected for something else. I then witnessed this manager answer a phone call and treat the customer on the other end of the line with complete disrespect. To me, this action was reprehensible than any of my actions over the past few days. I have managed many people in my short time working anywhere, and must say that I find it most effective to be kind and curtious rather than cruel unless it is absolutely necessary. Mind you, this kind of treatment is very rare.
Management is an art, one that not everyone is truly capable of. This is one of the many things I believe I will learn in my time at any job. Although I know I am not always the best manager when put in stressful positions, I do hope that other managers will keep in mind their own actions when scolding others.
Shadows of the Night September 25, 2009
Posted by Dev Riddle in creative writing..add a comment
Silence; it accompanies the saddest and happiest moments in life. This was one of my happiest; one of the moments where everything is so loud, but you cannot hear any of it. Watching everyone scream with joy and jump around, I broke into a grin. The joy was overwhelming, and the victory I felt from winning this championship game could not be described in words. Then there was my mother. She appeared out of the crowd, which seemed to be moving in slow motion, to stand by my side. The hug she gave me felt better than ever and for a second I remembered a time from years ago when everything was normal; everything was perfect.
Soon enough, I was back to being just another senior; wearing my casual jeans and white t-shirt was such a drastic switch from my bright and sophisticated football jersey. During football season my Friday nights had a meaning, and I lived for them. One night a week, I could run onto that field and escape into a world of my own; a world where failure or tragedy was mine to control. Now that time was over for another year, and quite honestly, I almost couldn’t take it.
At home, I found my mother in the living room. To me this meant there was something bothering her; after all, she barely ever sat in the living room since my father had passed. My mood was not something I wished to let go of just yet, so I attempted to sneak past the doorway. However, she stopped me and asked me to sit with her. What she would say next was something I never would have expected.
“Zack, we’re going to move.”
As this simple sentence soaked in, I felt a headache begin to parade through my temples. The home I had known for all my life was suddenly going to be taken out from under me. Neither of us will ever fully understand my inability to cope with the simple fact of moving, especially since I would be leaving for college within a few months anyways, but no matter what I suddenly felt betrayed. I rose and walked out of the room, and once again was surrounded by silence.
Sitting in my room that night, nothing felt right. The thoughts behind my mother’s actions were nothing I wanted to hear; as a matter of fact, I didn’t want to hear anything from her unless it was saying she had changed her mind. Sleeping that night was not anywhere near possible, and the next morning came slowly. Emerging from my room, I felt as if I were the walking dead. Despite my lack of sleep, I continued into the kitchen to stock up on food, and then remained in my room until later that night. Continuous thoughts on a subject are not helpful to me, but this case changed everything. I soon realized that memories of my father consumed the house and that the pain my mother felt daily was indescribable. I was oblivious to this pain because I refused to spend more than five hours in the house at a time unless I was sleeping. My heart tore in half upon this realization; half loyal to my home and the other loyal to my mother. Just then, my cell phone sounded off its musical tone. A needed relief was waiting on the other side of that ring.
“Zack! Party tonight man! My house, like, right now. You better be there!”
The perks of being a senior were parties with my friends. I knew my mother wouldn’t understand that I wanted to go out, but I thought making peace was worth a try anyways. I slowly made my way to her room, where I found her reading quietly. It took me a moment to realize that she wasn’t reading at all, but was looking at my baby pictures. We sat and talked about life; life was something I had begun to forget existed, since mine was more like a daily habit. After a subsequent peace was evident, I mentioned that I was going to a friend’s house for awhile.
Her first instinct was to bombard me with questions, but then she paused and I saw a different look come across her face. This look wasn’t the usual one of worry and attempts at protection, but instead was the unfamiliar one of trust. After so many years of trying to protect me every waking moment, my mother finally trust me to make my own decisions and protect myself. This final achievement broke me on the inside, and I hurried to leave the almost awkward feeling that had arrived in the room. I told my mother I would see her later, and that I loved her.
I arrived at Tommy’s house feeling quite successful. I promised myself that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt my mother after she had just begun to trust me, but that didn’t last too long. The beat of the party took over as soon as I reached the door, and so did my need to let loose. I cut through a group of seniors dancing, past the few popular juniors who were allowed to attend our parties, and discovered my friend Tommy in his usual situation: drinking a beer, surrounded by cheerleaders. As I approached him, he tossed me a beer from the cooler that sat by his feet. I popped it open, and in only two minutes had completely downed it. The feel-good air that accompanied beer was so unfamiliar to me lately; everyone here knows that if you drink while in season, you will no longer have a season. I drank more and more, until I no longer knew who I was, where I was, or remembered my promise to my mother. I danced with everyone and became someone that even I hadn’t known existed.
Being a senior I had gone through years of talks and discussions about how if you were going to drink, not to combine it with driving. I knew that driving while drunk was stupid, and I always rashly judged those who decided to get into a car with a drunk driver. Tonight, I didn’t hear my own criticism. As Tommy and I dropped off cheerleaders, we got further and further from our homes and safety. When it was finally just us in the car, he turned the music up loud and I felt that familiar headache begin its customary parade through my temples once again. I reached to turn it down, and after missing the knob several times, finally succeeded. When I turned my very single-minded attention span back to the road, I noticed a quickly approaching tree. Before I could turn or brake, we had hit it.
I thought only of Tommy, and turned to see if he was okay. On first glance, I knew he was gone. Despite my consistent lectures on wearing his seatbelt, he hadn’t. I choked up and suddenly, felt the pain that was residing in my head and chest start to dissipate. As it flowed out of my body, I remembered my mother. Her protection was what I longed for most; I felt that longing and broke once more on the inside, as the shadows of the night overwhelmed my body and mind. All was dark, and finally I was free.
