I am Traveling conducting the 40th & 41st AN Certs in Massachusetts this weekend. Don't have time to write, so here is the new training video from Max Out Friday. Plus, I re-posted one of my favorite and close to home blogs below called Ritalin. I will be back in the Orchestra with coffee and skeletons monday morning writing whatever the song and caffeine has for me. Tell then.......Keep slamming Bars my friends.
I should have ripped the test up right there and then. Ha! You son of a bitch you can't catch me! I should have threw all the tiny pieces of medal shackles in the air like chalk before lifting. I should have rubbed the black coal from my face and painted him a picture of reality with my shaky bare fucken hands. They would have probably done me a favor and put me on even more Ritalin than I was already on. That would have been great, considering the fact I would have just kept selling those little pink pills of joy all over the black market for more party money. Thanks Doc for supporting the whole football team with kegs, pizza and gas money. Yea, I am crazy buddy, but then again you are the one telling me "what I am going to be when I grow up" from this A B C D or E test. I didn't see BAMF Athlete on any of the test results, why not Mr? He then laughs with his brown elbow patch coat and probably a Subaru outside in the parking lot with his name on the curb. He thinks he is original and self made, but in my eyes, by him telling me what I will be when I grow up, and his best answer for me is more drugs, just means he himself has been told what to do his whole life, and he is 100 percent unoriginal and full of bullshit. His coat is not brown but white, white a fluffy. Bad ass mother fucken Athlete is what that means Doc. Can I be that when I grow up? Or do I have to pick from these 20 options, because honestly Doc, I really don't want to be a post office worker like you are telling me to be, with your eyes still gazed upon your notebook. I don't think he has even looked at me once. He then responded by telling me that sometimes in life we don't always have control, and we are what we are son. Followed by upping my dosage of Ritalin and extending my stay in the resource rooms, (aka) Room 2. I then took his clip board and shoved it in his mouth followed by wrapping duck tape all over his body, so he could never bring down another kid again. A kick to his chest rolled him and his rolly chair into a closet that I bolted shut, then proceeded to screamed "Shankle" at the top of my lungs! Odd moment for I didn't even know this man named Shankle back then in high school, also known as the lion Killer.
The Attitude Nation was pumping through my blood before I even knew what it was. You knew when this happened, even if you didn't, you felt a shift in the air this long while ago. The shift was a giant boat called the Titanic that I drove around the world visiting every room 2 class there was, rescuing kids from their low ceilings and no window rooms, full of Safeway applications and community college forms. I burned those jail cells down with my ship. I watched the room 2 burn to the ground as the kids broke free from their enclosed life, and set foot on a boat of freedom and opportunity. Now their anger can be controlled in the right way, meaning their way. A wanderlust boat that could end up anywhere. I was captain freedom, captain hook a kid in the back and bring 'em a board. I was robin hood that told the kids they could be anything they want, not just a Pro Football player. And even if you fall short of becoming the football player they always wanted to become, it doesn't mean you have to give up on athletics! GET INTO ANOTHER SPORT! Don't surrender to football. Football and the other big sports kill more dreams than they give out, understand this and move on. You can be a Pro Weightlifter, why not? You can invent the next Facebook, or open your own gym! You can be a coach, personal trainer, or yes, you can be a postal worker if you want! It's a great job!
We are different, we are unique, self Made, self achievers. Some self taught, and some taught by others of the same unique flavor. Black fur that is constantly attacked by white paint thrown from others. Freedom is always envied by others, sometimes even our closest friends. Go getters we are, go getters who attack our goals while helping others in the mean time. We are no captain, we are no champagne toasters. We don't have cigar time after dinner with the gentlemen while talking politics. We are the coal shoveling, fire burning, bottom of the boat black faced working, sweat dripping, strong armed, banned from society, out casted sheep who didn't listen to our fucken guidance councelors. Rebels of some sort, who wash their hands with blood, not soap. Eat with their hands not forks. Who get a high off strength in the gym and even more importantly... out.
This never happened though. My face was not black from the coal I shoveled into the Titanic with my fellow weightlifters. I did not save my fellow room 2ians. I did not cast a ship of freedom and duck tape my counselor's mouth shut. All these things I wanted to do, and thought about while my therapists were showing me black shadows on card stalk paper, while being asked what came to mind. I listened to all my counselors, therapists, tutors, and teachers. I took the Pills that gave me little emotion, and seemed to numb my feelings so I could read at a faster rate. Even though my senior year I was only reading at a 7th grade level, and I still couldn't pass pre-algebra. This came with tears and embarrassment. That's why seeing my blog near 200,000 hits makes me check my alarm clock to see when it will go off. All my subjects were in one classroom, one teacher, and only a few classmates. My odds of becoming who I am today were against me big time. I said red and people laughed while black always hit. Black, black, black, black. Pills, pills, pills, pills. Talk, talk, talk, talk.
It was the day some of my teachers laughed when I said I wanted to play ball at a four year out of state, when I threw my desk and walked out of the classroom in tears and frustration. Fuck you Football, you left me all alone, but guess what you son of a bitch, a family called Weightlifting picked me up on the side of the road, and took me in as one of their own. Fuck you Room 2, I rose high above your low bar, and never surrendered to your 20 options and your "poor me I need help" pink little liberal pills. Fuck you weird looking black shadows on card stalk, that only mean one thing, and thats a waste of tax payer money. Fuck you math, for we have never got along, even though I still admire your genius. Fuck you reading, I am in love with your brother writing, not you. Fuck you Oregon, you can keep the suckers who stayed in your trap, I escaped and have never looked back. Fuck you Ritalin, I will no longer be your zombie. And Fuck you councilor, for we are two different species, and you are NOT apart of the Nation we call Attitude. Now I really do have a ship called the Titanic and it's this blog. A place I can reach out to people and tell my story. I have thought and talked this new idea over for the last few months, and I have come to the conclusion that I am going to go around and speak words of motivation to the kids of room 2 at middle schools and high schools all over. Don't worry, it will be a little more PG than this blog post. I am not necessarily knocking the public school system, I am more reaching out to kids like me who I have seen surrender to the tests, pills, and hometown life after school. The kids who need a little wanderlust in their life, a boat of freedom. Kids in my opinion who sometimes need to buy a bus ticket and get the hell out of dodge, and find themselves, and what they want to do on their own. Have the kids scrape their knee, get burned by life and even hit rock bottom, stop catching their every fall!!!
I stopped taking Ritalin after high school, and it's the best thing I ever did.
Boat of Freedom 2016