what is that feeling?

Everyone knows about it. Some people around me suffer from it at unprecedented times, the same that I do. I am sure that everyone in their life has felt it in some way or another. It's called rejection. The sickly feeling that you get in your stomach when something you really have set your mind set on, suddenly and almost without a warning, turns you down. It's as if you receive a smack in the face from nowhere. I am not sure there are many worse feelings in the college world. Did "Shoeless" Joe Jackson have this same feeling when he was banned from baseball? Intriguing question. Rejection is among us, all the time, everyday. It may vary in different rejection levels, but the feeling, the disappointment is there all the same. Maybe it's there because there is a better plan for each of us. There is a better version, a better way, a better person than the thing, the way, the person we just were rejected from. Although this may not always be true, quite often, it is. It's just extremely hard to see it at the moment of pure rejection. As for me, I am suffering from it at this moment, hence why this blog is being written. Rejection hasn't come to me like this in quite awhile and honestly, it hurts. Best cure for this: laughing. Smiling, laughing, having fun and being preoccupied are the best medicines for this type of feeling. I hope that this weekend is filled with a lot of this. I need this type of medicine right now and I know that I have my perscriptions filled out for this weekend at least.

late-night vernors

Recently, I have thought a lot about the past. Events that even seem so small and ancient that I'm not even sure how they entered my mind. Just last night I was sitting on our porch steps and drinking pop. My mind raced back to the nights when I was unable to sleep or was sick at my papa's house in Grosse Ile. My father used to take me out to the pool with a glass of vernors and we would sit there silently with our feet dangling into the pool. The leaves in the trees around us shifted softly in the summer breeze while I eagerly sipped the cold vernors. We used to even go out there just to watch the thunderstorms reflect across Lake Erie. I am quite sure that several times I faked being sick or tossed and turned on purpose just to get to that pool with a glass of vernors. In some way, I think my dad knew this too, but he never said a thing. Gosh, I'm not even sure how many times we repeated this midnight ritual, but I am sure that I will always remember the feelings I had sitting by the pool with a glass of vernors on those late summer nights.

linky to myspace blog

here is a link to all my old journals just in case someone out there is missing them

http://blog.myspace.com/abouton

one of the reasons I have this in here is because I have posts on the vows, my 40 days without "something" and the trips to St. Louis and NYC - just in case someone wants to revist them for some odd reason...

this week last year...

This week last year was one of the worst I have experienced in my life. This week last year, my dear counselor, but more importantly friend, Mike Simila, took his own life on his beloved property in the Keewenaw Penisula. I remember the day as if it was yesterday. I remember where I sat, who was there, how we found out and the emotions running through and out of my body that night. I was frusterated; frusterated that I couldn't have done one small thing to save him from ending his life. What hurt and still hurts even more is watching my family, most importantly my father, lost for days, even weeks with hurt and anger of the events that took place. How could someone so helpful, so positive, so honest take his own life when he influenced so many people during his years in this world. I still find myself at the most random times wondering what the hell happened. I sit here at my computer and stare frequently at the picture that has become my favorite in the last year. It is of Mike, my Dad and I fishing on the shores of Lake Superior. How could the friendly, laid-back personality of my high school counselor change so fast?!? I do not remember the last thing I said to Mike. I only can cherish the last visit, and all others like them, that I made with him. My dad, him and I talking at his house in Harbor Springs, watching the Tigers game last summer and discussing the future. I miss his visits to our house, the Sunday's watching Lions games, visits to his office during gym class and his smile when laughing about what girl I was currently chasing. I will never see Regatta week/weekend in the same light again. Mike helped me get through those tough years in High School and I can never thank him for that, although I can believe that he knew in the back of his mind. What I can do for Mike now is use what he gave me and live stronger and better than I would have had I not known him. Thank you Mike, rest in peace my friend.