Probably not a good sign to go to one of my "just in case" ideas in the first WEEK of my blog. But I will, tonight, be posting a column I published in my high school newspaper.
The Kidd thing is still coming, and will, in my opinion, be my first real entry. That will be followed by my NCAA tournament preview.
If you want the real reason I won't be writing about Kidd tonight, some friends I have not seen in a while called me, and I will be getting drunk with them. Please do not tell my parents or the city of Minneapolis. I'm sorry if it feels like I'm choosing them over you, but, well, I am.
So instead, you get my last offering as a high school columnist. This piece, which I titled ran under the headline, "Everything I know," is simply a list of things I knew about myself before I graduated. It is one of the only, if not the only column I still like from back then. So another reason I feel like this is an appropriate - if lazy - entry is because I think it tells you a bit more about me.
If you were a friend of mine in high school, you may have already read it. In that case, you may proceed to whatever you actually wanted to do on the internet. Or you could read it for nostalgia. Maybe you were unaware that I wrote a column.
To those of you who have not known me that long, enjoy. I think most of the column is self-explanatory, and any part of it that isn't should probably also be left alone.
So, without further ado. . .
Everything I know
This is me.
I am 17 years old. 6’1”, 180 pounds. Reddish blonde hair.
Irish. Scottish. English. In that order.
Born in Washington D.C. Moved here when I was six.
I live in the basement of my house with my parents, who are 5 decades older than I am. My dad was born in 1939.
They are well-educated. Business suits. Law degrees. Few weeks ago I heard them talking about Marbury v. Madison over dinner. They worry about me and will not stop telling me what leftovers are in the fridge.
They seem like nice people.
I am the youngest of four. Three big sisters. They give me advice. Get me out of jams.
They lead interesting lives and have my best interests in mind.
I wear clothes that I bought at the mall with my fathers’ credit card. I have his name.
I score well on reading and verbal portions of standardized tests.
The two things that make me happiest are the newspaper I edit and my gorgeous red-haired huskie Suzy.
I lift weights 5 or 6 days a week. It is the only commitment I have ever made, probably because it leads to visible results. Unlike chemistry.
I own CDs by Weezer, Jay-Z, and Miles Davis.
I often felt unchallenged by high school at Century. I did not apply myself.
I schmoozed my teachers. I made them laugh. I made them want to give me good grades.
I lied. I cheated. I skipped assignments I did not like.
I got into the college I wanted.
I am bored and boring.
Since moving to North Dakota, I have met exactly four black kids. I was friends with two of them.
I rarely initiate anything. I react.
I identify with characters in literature and movies who have gifts but lack motivation. (See: Holden Caulfield, Will Hunting.)
I have had exactly two interesting things happen in my entire life. One of them I cannot talk about here, and the other I don’t want to. Both things felt like they happened to me and I played no part in them.
I won an award and I got arrested.
I am good at observing people, talking to them, and capturing them in print. Journalism comes naturally to me.
I’ve spent hours this year looking at myself in mirrors and I can’t figure out much of anything.
I’m not looking out of vanity. Like most people I’ve met, I do not like my face.
I’m just curious. I can’t walk past a mirror in my house without stopping for a quick staredown and wondering.
What’s inside that massive, perfectly round head?
What’s behind those little-boy blue eyes?
As of yet I cannot answer these questions. But my journalist’s eye usually lets me know within a minute whether someone is interesting. If the answers to these questions were not interesting, I would have stopped looking months ago.
I have a strange feeling that something is going to happen to or around me sometime soon that will change everything I know.
I am potential energy. I am in constant and furious motion but without movement. I am unfocused light.
I am a body spinning hopelessly under control.
I am Mike Mullen.
I don’t know what that means.