Dreams for a new millenium

I think I got tagged at roughly the same time by Alison and Laura, so I guess they each get a full point. You thought I was going to say a half-point but I'm feeling awfully generous.

I'm not tagging anyone else though because I don't know seven people who haven't done this and I'm morally against imposing my will on other people, unless it is dinner time and two of my co-workers can't decide where they want to eat. On to the rules!

* Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.

* Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.

* Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.

* Let each person know that they've been tagged by leaving a comment on his or her blog.

1. As a child, I moved around a lot. It was to the same three states though (NJ, FL, TX) and I lived in several places on more than one occasion. And, no, my family was not in the military! Thanks for asking!

2. My favorite food in the world is an authentic, hot, soft pretzel with spicy brown mustard, preferably from a dirty guy selling them out of a metal shopping cart in Philadelphia. A little specific, sure, but it makes a difference.

3. I have owned two pets in my lifetime: a pair of goldfish when I was four or five. One of them died and my mom and I flushed it down the toilet. The next day, I flushed the live one down the toilet and that was effectively the end of pet ownership for a young Jon-Michael. I have not been in charge of a pet since, but I would very much like to be. In fact, I have the general idea of exactly what I'd like: two medium-sized female dogs and they have to be sisters, a black male cat with somewhat of an attitude, a female ferret with a name that sounds like she could have been a member of the Beatles (or at least lived in Ireland) and some fish thrown in for good measure. The fish are important, because I need a shot at redemption.



4. My biggest pet peeve in life is hearing the same story or stories over and over again. My mom is the most colossal perpetrator of this heinous crime. I'd rather my mom just recite shit she heard off the news every day than hear about how she bought some piece of second-hand furniture for the fifth time. I try not to be a jerk but if I told you I already heard that story before and I don't seem interested, don't keep going.

I sincerely love my mother, but another thing she does that drives me loopy is this: She calls me on the phone and I say something like, "Hey, I am busy or I really can't talk to you right now." Her response to this 90 percent of the time is to keep talking like she never heard me say I have to go. The other 10 percent, she just asks," Oh, really?" and THEN keeps talking. Hilarious, quirky, tenacious...folks, that's my mom!

5. One of my favorite things to do is go on a website called gametz.com

It is a pretty simple message board-type site where people trade games and other items. It combines three of my favorite aspects of life: video games, bartering and bullshitting with other people. There is a guy on there named Masterchief06 who is a pretty big tool but I can't help but be in the chatroom and say ridiculous things to him like, "Can I trade you a dollar for your dignity?" and before he can answer, say, "Oh wait, you lost that a long time ago."

I may be petty and childish at times but I thought that was what the internet is for?

6. I have two humongous fears. They are dying alone and turning out like my father. The dying alone is self-explanatory in my mind and something I doubt any logical human being wants. The thing with my dad is a little more complicated.

I know my mom wasn't a saint and it takes two people to make a relationship work, but here are two trump cards she has over anything my dad can use as an excuse for why I went 15 years without seeing him.
A.) My mom raised me pretty much alone with some peripheral help from my grandfather (R.I.P.)
B.) My mom has always been honest with me about everything. I've seen the best and worst of her and I don't think there is a single thing my dad could really tell me about her that would surprise me outside of, "Your mom pulled Carrot Top out of a burning house in 1983."
So when he tries to explain his side, I might shake my head and act like I understand. However, I really don't. My brother Kenneth is my half-brother and I couldn't ever imagine going 15 years without seeing him for any reason, so think about how I'd feel about my own children! Therefore, outside of a genuinely heart-felt apology or admittance that he was wrong, I don't want to hear excuses. There's a small part of me that wants to forgive and forget, but an even bigger part that just wants to ask him once and for all, "At what point did you think this was a good plan at all?"

My mom doesn't realize it but she's pushed me to accomplish things in my life. They may not seem significant and I might not always show my infinite gratefulness. I should tell her this Christmas in the card I'll give her. I hate to always feel like I'm complaining about my mom. The one wish I had is that she knew how to take the proverbial foot off the gas when it comes to pushing me. Because I don't push back, I tend to fly off the edge.

7. Man these things are getting longer and longer, aren't they? The last one should be a pretty good one, right? Something that I have thought about or dreamt about over the years and not talked about to anyone...I can almost feel people leaning forward in anticipation, with baited breath, to watch this revelation unfold. It's not that big of a deal, really.

When I was in 7th grade, we moved to Cypress, TX, which was basically a suburb of Houston. We lived in a quiet subdivision and there were lots of other kids around and it was awesome. My best friend lived like four or five doors down and his name was Kevin Carlson. We were around the same height (sadly, i was like 5'2 or 5'3 when i was 13 and wouldn't grow much more) but couldn't have looked more unlike. He had shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes and sounded like he was from Texas. Me, well, you know. Anyhow, it's not anything gay, but over the years, I've had dreams of meeting up with him when we were both older. The weird thing, though, is we both clearly recognize each other but neither of us will approach the other or do anything else to admit we know each other! It doesn't make any sense!

Anyhow, that was it as far as that dream goes. But what I remember about Kevin is we both loved basketball more than pretty much anything. He had a hoop in his driveway and I'm pretty sure we wore the net out from shooting on it all the time. When I was growing up, basketball was the common denominator by which I made friends. Like I'm not over-exaggerating at all.

I met my best friend Jose in an art class in 8th grade and we were kind of enemies. He challenged me to a game of basketball, we played, he beat me (we'd have many epic games over the years) and we were almost inseperable after that. I was the best man at his wedding for crying out loud. The funny thing was that basketball was a common bond I shared with most of my friends growing up but the way I first got good at shooting a basketball was because I was kind of a lonely kid sometimes with all the moving we did. It's not always easy to immediately make friends and when I moved to Houston on my ninth birthday, I spent the first however many months sneaking into the YMCA and shooting baskets for hours by myself. Sometimes I would play games with other people but I remember just shooting over and over again. It's seriously like riding a bike. I can pick up a basketball right now and it would feel natural in my hands. It might take me a little to warm up and regain my shot, but it has always felt like it was there.

I'm not great at basketball by any means but I can usually hold my own. The most common response I get is, "He's a lot better than I thought he'd be." Not that that is a ringing endorsement. I'm a short, awkward, unathletic-looking person. I know this. In fact, there aren't too many situations where I feel natural and at ease. But when I have a basketball in my hands, a good basketball (a leather Spalding), my senses all leap a little, I am redeemed and I hear a symphony in my head.

To end this blog, I am making a resolution right now. I am putting my good basketball on the back floorboard of my truck and going to find my pump and needle and put that in my truck too. I want to be a step away from always starting a pickup game, any time, any place.