Memoirs of an Average Unaverage Guy: Entry 6- Classic Rock, Fighting as a Kid, People’s Painting of Me

12:10 p.m.

Went out driving this morning like I said I would. I think it was my best run yet, except for when I floored Aunt Kathy’s truck over a curb. Oh well, live and learn. Anyways. I love Classic Rock. I have a playlist on Spotify that’s just filled with The Rolling Stones, AD DC, Kiss, Queen, etc., and I love this playlist. Classic Rock has just always been my go-to, my favorite music. Lately I’ve been listening to a lot of rap, but classic rock always comes back. I grew up with a CD player, not getting my first iPod until I was 12. I had 3 artists that I had CD’s for growing up: Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, and Queen. Queen was always the favorite though. We Will Rock You was the first Queen song I ever heard. They played it in elementary school P.E., when they made use run laps. They would lower the volume whenever the verses started mentioning kicking can, so all I heard was a jumbled mess of children running on the tiled floor and the music volume dropping in and out, but I knew I liked whatever it was that I was hearing. Shortly after that, I discovered the name of the song after asking around. Then, the next time little elementary schoolkid me went to a Walmart, I bought a CD. Queen’s Greatest Hits, 1992 album cover. 

6:40 p.m.

Was cut off early from writing and got sucked into some call of duty. Now me and my mother are at one of the nicest places to eat here. So nice they they give you popcorn and soda for free while you wait to be seated.  That’s pretty cool I guess. I figure it’s probably because this is my last Sunday home and the last opportunity for a nice meal before I head back to college. I can’t wait to go back to college. Life is just so much easier and fulfilling back home. I’m laughing in my head right now because this restaurant that I’m at uses saddles as it’s bar stools, and this middle aged Asian man looked at it for 10 seconds with a confused look on his face while he tried to figure out how to sit in itπŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚. I wonder if emojis will show up in my blog. Personally, I love emojis. They help personify text and show your would-be facial expressions. There’s a kid in here sagging down past his ass. I thought these idiots were all gone. I never understand people that do it; I mean it just looks so dumb and it only hinders you.  I remember in middle school there was a kid that sagged down to his knees. Thought he was hot shit but could barely speak past a first grade level. He liked to talk a lot of smack and start a lot of shit. Back in middle school I got into a lot of fights, and this kid was one of them. I was playing Yu-Gi-Oh with a friend of mine at lunch and I guess he didn’t take to kindly to that, so he came over and swept all of our cards off the table. Wasn’t a long fight since it happened in the cafeteria at lunch time. Teachers were able to break fights up quickly back then. We were all small back then, it wasn’t like how it was in highschool. Much easier for a teacher to pull two 12 year olds off each other than to pull two 17 year olds off each other. 

8:11 p.m. 

Anyways. I fought a lot back then. Lots of bullies. I was always a target as a kid, from elementary to middle school. I never liked to just sit and be picked on though, I liked to fight back. Unless it was a fight I’d clearly lose. Then I liked to sit and be picked onπŸ€”. Middle school was really bad though. Honestly the worst 3 years of my life. Didn’t really have any friends, I got bullied a lot, I fought a lot, I got mixed up with the wrong crowd… Man fuck middle school. Let’s just get rid of it, abolish it. Hell, let’s just get rid of the number 6 7 & 8 in general. Good bye and good riddance. I’m kidding of course. 

I wonder what my writing looks like to other people. I wonder what people that don’t know me think of me. Hell, I wonder what people that do know me think of me. Whenever I read, my mind always paints a mental image in my head of the writer. What I imagine they look like. What I imagine they sound like. What I imagine their tone to be. I wonder what other people paint when the read what I write. Or even when they just see a picture of me. Or see me walking down the street. Shame I can’t read minds. 

Well, dinner’s done and I don’t really want to write anymore. If you’re reading this, I hope you’re having a good day. 

8:46 p.m.