Monday, January 31, 2011
With a Little Help from My Friends
A bit of a departure from the weary, dreary posts of late, possibly because I'm not home right now. I'm in Carbondale at some friends' apartment. I'm sick, and stuff at home was sucking really bad, so I jumped at the chance when they invited me down here. Of course, that meant that Dad had to drive me down here right when the freezing rain was starting to freeze, but I needed to get out of Dodge. Sounds like we're having the storm of the century back home, but right now I'm cooling my jets in the Dale. Hooray. Hope everybody stays safe and I'll be back soon!
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Another Insanely Captivating Story Where I Try To Make Something Out of Nothing
Hello world! In case you didn't see the timestamp, I'm writing this at 1:45 in the morning on a Sunday. I have church in the morning. Dad told us we're going to the 9:45 service. I hope I wake up on time. I really haven't been making it to church as much as I should be. It's one of those things that's sort of been getting lost in the shuffle. Either I'm working during church; or I work the night before church, and then I sleep in when I'm supposed to be in church; or I didn't work but I sleep in without meaning to because of some reason or another. I believe in God though. I have a personal relationship with Jesus, we talk every night before I go to sleep. It's a bit complicated though, and I don't really want to go into religion.
I was sick again today. My diet for the past few days has consisted of 4 things: soup, bread, water, and Sprite (there was a Sierra Mist sprinkled in there too). It hasn't been fun. Today I was supposed to go to a Strategic Gaming Day for the History Club at SWIC. I'm not really all that into strategic gaming, but it was a fundraiser for the club, and since I am the club's secretary, I probably should have been there if I was able to go. I also had a group of friends who wanted me to come play hockey at some point during the day. Turns out I wasn't able to do either. My stomach was still bugging me, and last night I could only sleep in 90 minute intervals before my stomach woke me up. Not a happy camper this morning. So I notified both parties I couldn't make it. Slept off and on, and finally woke up for good at about 11. Then it was pretty much one of those "let's lay around the house not really doing much of anything" days. Saw about 3 episodes of Law and Order. And it wasn't one of the good Law and Order's either, it was Criminal Intent, which I don't think is too bad unless you compare it to the original or SVU. I was extremely bored because my friends were either playing hockey, at the History Club event, at work, or not in the area.
Then at about 5, I got a call from work, asking if I could come in tonight. I figured that wouldn't be a problem. It'd give me something to do, maybe I can have lunch with my work friends, so I said yes, despite the fact that I'm feeling bad. Then I had to worry about getting to work, because there wasn't a car at my house for me to drive (should've thought about that when I said yes). I have numbers for 6 of my co-workers. I knew three of them were working, one had worked earlier and probably wouldn't want to come back, and the fifth sometimes works overnights on Saturdays, so I figured he probably would be sleeping. I called the sixth one, because he wasn't working and he lives about 5 minutes down the road. He was in the middle of playing Guitar Hero when I got hold of him, and he said he could be at my house in about 10-15 minutes, which was fine since I needed to get dressed and all. 15 minutes rolls around, and he's not here, but my dad comes home to drop off his truck, should I need it at some point tonight. So I call my friend, and he doesn't pick up, so I text him and say thanks anyway, but I have a ride. He texts back, saying he was on his way because they called him in as well. But I got the text after I had started towards work, so que sera sera.
Got to work at about 5:35 and it was a madhouse. Saw that the person I was covering for was scheduled for a 6:30 lunch, which coincidentally was the same lunch time for my three friends who were already at work. Yay. But because I'm a good little worker bee, I asked my manager if I should take my lunch at that time, because I've never taken lunch within an hour of getting to work. She told me to hold off until about 7:30 or 8. I was bummed that I asked that question, but it probably was for the better, because there was some drama at the 6:30 lunch table. Still, I was starving by the time 8 rolled around, and I wasn't sure if I could hold much down. Plus, the only pair of clean pants I had are a waist size too big, so I keep thinking they're going to fall down on me. So I clocked out and went to go get a belt, and my friend was there and I asked her about which belt I should get because I have little fashion sense whatsoever, and then we talked a bit. Then I went to go buy some soup, because I did want to eat something. My throat was killing me too, so the soup was good for me.
We didn't end up leaving the store until after 11, which really upset my friend that helped me pick out a belt. She's got a new boyfriend, and they were supposed to hang out after she got off, and she wasn't too happy about the delay. Then she and her bff left, and I ended up giving a ride to my friend who I'm discussing getting an apartment with, and then we just sat in his driveway talking for about half an hour. Silly stuff, really, nothing earthshaking enough that I should put online. And then I got home, and my sister and I spent the next hour switching between Fresh Prince of Bel Air and How I Met Your Mother. My day was full of interesting things to write about.
I probably should at some point stop referring to people as "my friend" or "he" & "she," but I mean, for right now I probably shouldn't post people's names online without their permission. I mean, Facebook is one thing, but at least there there are some safeguards against the entire world learning about them. Once I get people's permission I might going into a little more detail about them, but for right now you'll have to deal with silhouettes. Hope you're okay with that. Heck, it doesn't matter if you're okay with that, because I'm the one writing here. Anyway, my bed beckons, so thank you for your time, you've been a wonderful audience, good night and God bless.
I was sick again today. My diet for the past few days has consisted of 4 things: soup, bread, water, and Sprite (there was a Sierra Mist sprinkled in there too). It hasn't been fun. Today I was supposed to go to a Strategic Gaming Day for the History Club at SWIC. I'm not really all that into strategic gaming, but it was a fundraiser for the club, and since I am the club's secretary, I probably should have been there if I was able to go. I also had a group of friends who wanted me to come play hockey at some point during the day. Turns out I wasn't able to do either. My stomach was still bugging me, and last night I could only sleep in 90 minute intervals before my stomach woke me up. Not a happy camper this morning. So I notified both parties I couldn't make it. Slept off and on, and finally woke up for good at about 11. Then it was pretty much one of those "let's lay around the house not really doing much of anything" days. Saw about 3 episodes of Law and Order. And it wasn't one of the good Law and Order's either, it was Criminal Intent, which I don't think is too bad unless you compare it to the original or SVU. I was extremely bored because my friends were either playing hockey, at the History Club event, at work, or not in the area.
Then at about 5, I got a call from work, asking if I could come in tonight. I figured that wouldn't be a problem. It'd give me something to do, maybe I can have lunch with my work friends, so I said yes, despite the fact that I'm feeling bad. Then I had to worry about getting to work, because there wasn't a car at my house for me to drive (should've thought about that when I said yes). I have numbers for 6 of my co-workers. I knew three of them were working, one had worked earlier and probably wouldn't want to come back, and the fifth sometimes works overnights on Saturdays, so I figured he probably would be sleeping. I called the sixth one, because he wasn't working and he lives about 5 minutes down the road. He was in the middle of playing Guitar Hero when I got hold of him, and he said he could be at my house in about 10-15 minutes, which was fine since I needed to get dressed and all. 15 minutes rolls around, and he's not here, but my dad comes home to drop off his truck, should I need it at some point tonight. So I call my friend, and he doesn't pick up, so I text him and say thanks anyway, but I have a ride. He texts back, saying he was on his way because they called him in as well. But I got the text after I had started towards work, so que sera sera.
Got to work at about 5:35 and it was a madhouse. Saw that the person I was covering for was scheduled for a 6:30 lunch, which coincidentally was the same lunch time for my three friends who were already at work. Yay. But because I'm a good little worker bee, I asked my manager if I should take my lunch at that time, because I've never taken lunch within an hour of getting to work. She told me to hold off until about 7:30 or 8. I was bummed that I asked that question, but it probably was for the better, because there was some drama at the 6:30 lunch table. Still, I was starving by the time 8 rolled around, and I wasn't sure if I could hold much down. Plus, the only pair of clean pants I had are a waist size too big, so I keep thinking they're going to fall down on me. So I clocked out and went to go get a belt, and my friend was there and I asked her about which belt I should get because I have little fashion sense whatsoever, and then we talked a bit. Then I went to go buy some soup, because I did want to eat something. My throat was killing me too, so the soup was good for me.
We didn't end up leaving the store until after 11, which really upset my friend that helped me pick out a belt. She's got a new boyfriend, and they were supposed to hang out after she got off, and she wasn't too happy about the delay. Then she and her bff left, and I ended up giving a ride to my friend who I'm discussing getting an apartment with, and then we just sat in his driveway talking for about half an hour. Silly stuff, really, nothing earthshaking enough that I should put online. And then I got home, and my sister and I spent the next hour switching between Fresh Prince of Bel Air and How I Met Your Mother. My day was full of interesting things to write about.
I probably should at some point stop referring to people as "my friend" or "he" & "she," but I mean, for right now I probably shouldn't post people's names online without their permission. I mean, Facebook is one thing, but at least there there are some safeguards against the entire world learning about them. Once I get people's permission I might going into a little more detail about them, but for right now you'll have to deal with silhouettes. Hope you're okay with that. Heck, it doesn't matter if you're okay with that, because I'm the one writing here. Anyway, my bed beckons, so thank you for your time, you've been a wonderful audience, good night and God bless.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Sick Sick Sick Sick Sick
Did the title give you any hint as to what's going on right now? Oh my god, I can't hold anything down right now. I don't get it either, I was fine yesterday at school, and then I got home and things went downhill fast. First the congestion hit, followed by a massive headache and then the wonderful stomach issues. I'll spare the graphic details for the wonderful people who may or may not be reading this, but suffice it to say it wasn't pretty at all. As it is, my head's pounding right now. I definitely can't make it to my history club meeting, and I'm seriously considering calling off work, which I don't want to do because my hours are getting cut enough as is :( Of course, since I'm bored and I don't really feel like doing much of anything, and I can't sleep because of my infrequent interruptions, I decided to get online and type to my heart's content.
So tell me, wonderful web people who probably aren't reading this, what should I make this blog about? The thoughts and observations of a community college student who desperately wants to leave home but isn't sure if he can do it because he's lacking in funds and isn't sure if he could survive on his own? I asked a friend from work about an apartment. He's a good guy who also is wanting to leave home, but he wants to know that there'd be enough money to cover an apartment. He's talking to a couple others about maybe getting a place, hopefully we can work something out soon. I hope we can work something out. I mean, look, it's not that I don't love my parents and all; in fact, it's quite the opposite. They've taken care of me for 21+ years, and I'm really thankful for that. It's just... they get kinda smothering, you know? Always asking "Where are you going?" "Who are you with?" "What time did you get home last night?" and other questions like that. And it's just gotten worse since I had my accident. I think that scared all of us. Really, we're a pretty tight-knit clan, even though we may not show it sometimes; we circle the wagons after any family crisis, like when the house got nailed by the tornado a couple summers ago, or my aforementioned car accident. I know they're just trying to be good parents, and that they care about me, but I'm 21 years old. I need a chance to spread my wings and I'm really starting to feel cramped here at home.
Plus, it gets kinda irritating when they question why I've got beer in the fridge. I should tell you my parents aren't drinkers. Dad's diabetic and he didn't really drink all that much in the first place, while Mom... well, I can only remember seeing my mother consume alcohol once or twice (not counting the communion wine that we get whenever we go to Lutheran churches), and it was just one glass of wine or whatever was in the glass. Guess she just doesn't like the taste. So alcohol hasn't been a big part of our family, thank God. Whenever I to to parties, which isn't often, I get a crash course in what it can do to people, and it can really mess some people up. It can really change some people. Sure it helps loosen people up, drops their awareness and what not, but... well, I'm just not a huge fan of alcohol. I'm the stuckup one who didn't drink before he turned 21. I bought a six-pack of Bud Light just after midnight on my birthday, but I waited a couple days to drink it. It's ok, but I'm not too huge a fan. I'm a bit of a lightweight too. One night I ventured outside my comfort zone a bit and drank TWO beers (I had to finish off that six pack, the beer had been in my fridge for about 2 months, and I thought why the hell not?). I didn't get insanely drunk, but I did have a fun conversation with a friend of mine where I got a bit loopy and out of character. She was like "Well, aren't you just the little talker?" It was pretty embarrassing. Then about a week later, I got another six pack and put it in the fridge, and that's where the trouble started. My parents now think I'm an alcoholic, which I'm about the furthest thing from. That six pack's been in the fridge for about a month, and I think I've had only 2, maybe 3 of the beers. I'm just not a huge fan. I've got a bottle of champaigne and a bottle of sangria up in my room too, and I haven't opened either. Call me a wet blanket or whatever, but... yeah.
Forgive me for that random alcohol tangent. I was asking what this blog should be about, wasn't I? I don't really know, you tell me. I would be content with just writing about life and what not, because believe me, I do some things that make my life far from average. Ask my friends, they'll tell you. Maybe that's what I'll talk about in post 3, my friends. I have to be careful though, because we are on the internet, and anybody can read this. So I'll try to keep it PG.
Now I'm coughing up a storm. What the hell is wrong with me? I want to go to work tonight, I need the money, what with me wanting to get a car and an apartment. Then there's the matter of where I'll be after SWIC. That's another thing my parents are grating on me about: "Where are you going to school next year?" "Why aren't you applying for scholarships?" "You need to get that application taken care of!" "You have family asking about where you're going to go!" "You need to make a decision soon!" Oh my God, why can't you see that I'm trying here? I have things that I'm committed to besides where I'm going to have to be in six months, and I realize that it's a very important decision to make, but I feel that by trying to help me you're unintentionally trying to wring the life out of me. I can't deal with all this stress! Then, when I try to ease the tensions, they yell some more, and I just go into shutdown mode, and it doesn't help matters.
What also isn't helping matters is that I just had a big fight with some of my friends who live here, and I haven't had anybody to vent to. It was my fault we weren't talking. I did something really stupid, and then I tried to fix things and those things ended up making things worse, and then we didn't talk for a week, and then we worked it out but then I read some things wrong which got me even more upset and set things back again. We're talking now, but I know I messed things up bad and... I don't want to be a burden.
Listen to me, wallowing in my own pool of self-pity. You didn't come here to read that, did you? I'm sorry. I'll try not to be a downer on this blog. It's a new thing, you know, writing to nobody in particular, hoping that somebody comes along, clicks the link, and starts reading. Believe me, I'm usually not a depressing, down-on-his-luck person. I hope I can share that in this blog. This is actually kind of fun. Though, right now my stomach is telling me to do something else, so I'm gonna hit publish and take care of some things that I don't see fit for posting on the Internet. Bye.
So tell me, wonderful web people who probably aren't reading this, what should I make this blog about? The thoughts and observations of a community college student who desperately wants to leave home but isn't sure if he can do it because he's lacking in funds and isn't sure if he could survive on his own? I asked a friend from work about an apartment. He's a good guy who also is wanting to leave home, but he wants to know that there'd be enough money to cover an apartment. He's talking to a couple others about maybe getting a place, hopefully we can work something out soon. I hope we can work something out. I mean, look, it's not that I don't love my parents and all; in fact, it's quite the opposite. They've taken care of me for 21+ years, and I'm really thankful for that. It's just... they get kinda smothering, you know? Always asking "Where are you going?" "Who are you with?" "What time did you get home last night?" and other questions like that. And it's just gotten worse since I had my accident. I think that scared all of us. Really, we're a pretty tight-knit clan, even though we may not show it sometimes; we circle the wagons after any family crisis, like when the house got nailed by the tornado a couple summers ago, or my aforementioned car accident. I know they're just trying to be good parents, and that they care about me, but I'm 21 years old. I need a chance to spread my wings and I'm really starting to feel cramped here at home.
Plus, it gets kinda irritating when they question why I've got beer in the fridge. I should tell you my parents aren't drinkers. Dad's diabetic and he didn't really drink all that much in the first place, while Mom... well, I can only remember seeing my mother consume alcohol once or twice (not counting the communion wine that we get whenever we go to Lutheran churches), and it was just one glass of wine or whatever was in the glass. Guess she just doesn't like the taste. So alcohol hasn't been a big part of our family, thank God. Whenever I to to parties, which isn't often, I get a crash course in what it can do to people, and it can really mess some people up. It can really change some people. Sure it helps loosen people up, drops their awareness and what not, but... well, I'm just not a huge fan of alcohol. I'm the stuckup one who didn't drink before he turned 21. I bought a six-pack of Bud Light just after midnight on my birthday, but I waited a couple days to drink it. It's ok, but I'm not too huge a fan. I'm a bit of a lightweight too. One night I ventured outside my comfort zone a bit and drank TWO beers (I had to finish off that six pack, the beer had been in my fridge for about 2 months, and I thought why the hell not?). I didn't get insanely drunk, but I did have a fun conversation with a friend of mine where I got a bit loopy and out of character. She was like "Well, aren't you just the little talker?" It was pretty embarrassing. Then about a week later, I got another six pack and put it in the fridge, and that's where the trouble started. My parents now think I'm an alcoholic, which I'm about the furthest thing from. That six pack's been in the fridge for about a month, and I think I've had only 2, maybe 3 of the beers. I'm just not a huge fan. I've got a bottle of champaigne and a bottle of sangria up in my room too, and I haven't opened either. Call me a wet blanket or whatever, but... yeah.
Forgive me for that random alcohol tangent. I was asking what this blog should be about, wasn't I? I don't really know, you tell me. I would be content with just writing about life and what not, because believe me, I do some things that make my life far from average. Ask my friends, they'll tell you. Maybe that's what I'll talk about in post 3, my friends. I have to be careful though, because we are on the internet, and anybody can read this. So I'll try to keep it PG.
Now I'm coughing up a storm. What the hell is wrong with me? I want to go to work tonight, I need the money, what with me wanting to get a car and an apartment. Then there's the matter of where I'll be after SWIC. That's another thing my parents are grating on me about: "Where are you going to school next year?" "Why aren't you applying for scholarships?" "You need to get that application taken care of!" "You have family asking about where you're going to go!" "You need to make a decision soon!" Oh my God, why can't you see that I'm trying here? I have things that I'm committed to besides where I'm going to have to be in six months, and I realize that it's a very important decision to make, but I feel that by trying to help me you're unintentionally trying to wring the life out of me. I can't deal with all this stress! Then, when I try to ease the tensions, they yell some more, and I just go into shutdown mode, and it doesn't help matters.
What also isn't helping matters is that I just had a big fight with some of my friends who live here, and I haven't had anybody to vent to. It was my fault we weren't talking. I did something really stupid, and then I tried to fix things and those things ended up making things worse, and then we didn't talk for a week, and then we worked it out but then I read some things wrong which got me even more upset and set things back again. We're talking now, but I know I messed things up bad and... I don't want to be a burden.
Listen to me, wallowing in my own pool of self-pity. You didn't come here to read that, did you? I'm sorry. I'll try not to be a downer on this blog. It's a new thing, you know, writing to nobody in particular, hoping that somebody comes along, clicks the link, and starts reading. Believe me, I'm usually not a depressing, down-on-his-luck person. I hope I can share that in this blog. This is actually kind of fun. Though, right now my stomach is telling me to do something else, so I'm gonna hit publish and take care of some things that I don't see fit for posting on the Internet. Bye.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The Always Earthshattering First Post
Hmm... haven't done one of these in years. Not since I stopped frequenting Xanga, at least, so about 5 years ago then. Xanga was my first experience to social networking though, so it had its perks. Did that for most of my sophomore year in high school. Then it was on to Myspace, which I frequented for a year, and finally my senior year of high school I started my Facebook page, and I haven't really moved on from there. But like I said, Xanga was my introduction to how powerful (and dangerous, if you're not careful) blogging and networking can be.
Now I know how intriguing the first post of anything always is. It's like that essay the teacher always made you do in elementary school when you got off summer vacation. You know the one, it always had the breathtaking title "What I Did Over Summer Vacation" or "My Trip to Grandma's House" or, and I remember this vividly because I had to read my paper after the kid who wrote this gem of an essay, "The Summer of Nothingness." Pretty much the kid wrote about how he sat on his fat ass all summer long because his parents took away his N64 (I'm dating myself a bit here), and he had no urge to just go outside and run around. He then ended his speech to the class with, "And now I'm here in school, and I really don't give a shit." The other kids were all laughing at how the kid used a bad word, and the teacher literally dragged him all the way to the principal's office. Now how was the the ten-year-old me supposed to follow an act like that?
I went a bit off topic there, and you'll find that I do that a lot, should I continue writing this blog. But my point was, first posts tend to be boring because the author has no direction where to go, no idea what his audience (should he have one) is looking for. So I suppose I should just get the obligatory "getting to know you" bits out of the way. So, Internet, here I am.
My name is Gene Marquez, and I am a student at Southwestern Illinois College in Belleville, Illinois, which not surprisingly is located in southwestern Illinois. Bet that's a shocking bit of news, that there's a school in Southwestern Illinois called Southwestern Illinois, but you know, some places don't have that. Take New Jersey. There isn't a school called the University of New Jersey. It's called Rutgers. Maybe you've heard of it. But I digress.
I'm 21 years old, and I still live at home. Two parents, one brother, one sister. My dad's Filipino, and Mom... my mother's side of the family has English, Irish, Scotch, German, Dutch, and probably something else from Northern Europe. It's a bit of a mix. My siblings and I are staggered enough in age that we celebrate "milestone" birthdays within a calendar year of each other. When I turned 18, my brother turned 13, and my sister turned 10. Right now, I'm 21, my brother is 16, and my sister is 13. Go figure. Don't think my folks planned it out that way, but that's how it worked out. Just a cute little tidbit I thought I'd share.
What else can I say... my dad's a retired major in the US Air Force. You know what that means... we moved a lot. I was born in California at a base that no longer exists; my parents are both native Californians, so I got to see my family a lot for the first few years of my life. When I was 3, we moved to Montana. Big difference between Cali and Montana. Cold, not a lot of people, cold... but I wasn't complaining. Heck, I lived there between the ages of 3 and 6, I didn't know any better. The city we lived in had about 60,000 people, and was Montana's third largest city. Let's see, what can I say about my experience in Montana... my brother was born there, and I got to see a lot of baseball. At the time, the Dodgers had their rookie league team there, and we went to see a lot of games. That might foreshadow a bit of who I am, a kid gains his love of baseball by watching it in the warm, sunny, thriving metropolis known as Great Falls, Montana. Should've known then I was scarring myself for life.
We moved from Montana to Illinois, just outside of St. Louis, just before my 7th birthday. There, we got to see probably better quality baseball with the St. Louis Cardinals; we got there just in time for the arrival of Mark McGwire, the home run race of '98, and his subsequent fall from grace. But I didn't care, I was hooked. It was also in this first stay in Illinois that I began to foster an interest in music; some of my mom's family is musically inclined, and her parents gave my parents the family piano. Mom could dabble in a few tunes, but not really too much; she can read notes, but I'm not sure how much else she knows. We had a songbook on the piano though, and one day I just kinda sat down on the bench and started to teach myself; I couldn't read notes worth a lick, but for some unknown reason the sheet music had numbers, starting at 1 and going up, and I just sort of started to figure out the music. I had no idea what I was doing, and I wouldn't call myself a prodigy at all, but my parents finally figured out that I should probably start taking piano lessons. So I started those in fourth grade. A year later I tried playing trumpet in the school band, but I didn't really like it that much. The band instructor and me didn't get on too well.
In 2001 we moved from Illinois to Oklahoma. By this time, I was old enough to know that I liked Illinois, and I didn't want to leave. And when I got to Oklahoma, I wanted to go back to Illinois. Compared to where we had been, Oklahoma was another world entirely. That, combined with the fact that the attacks on 9/11 happened about a month after we moved, and that my grandmother suffered a stroke in early 2002 and died a few months later, made me less than a happy camper. I mean, I never became a teenage rebel or anything (in fact, I was one of those squeaky clean teens), but it took me a while to get adjusted to Oklahoma. But I kept up with my two passions, music and baseball. I took up trumpet again, playing in the school band for the 3 years we were in Oklahoma (I quit after that though, when I realized I was a terrible marcher), I continued piano lessons, and I played baseball in summer leagues. Not that I was any good, but I just liked it.
In 2004 my Dad retired and he decided to take the family back to Illinois. I was happy to be back. Good to be with my friends and all, you know. Plus, I would be moving at the start of high school, when everybody at the school would be adjusting to high school, so "new kid syndrome" wouldn't be as bad a problem. Let's see, in high school, I was in Spanish Club, Scholar Bowl (I captained the team my senior year, and we went to state!), National Honor Society, yada yada yada. This is really dry, isn't it?
I graduated from O'Fallon Township High School in 2008. I didn't know what I wanted to do, or where I wanted to go to school. I applied at over ten schools, and I got into most of them. Really wanted to go to Syracuse up in New York, but money at the time wasn't gonna work out, so I chose Saint Louis University, just across the Mississippi from home. Got there, didn't like it, got out, and I ended up at SWIC, where I have been for the past two and a half years. Probably still gonna be there next year, because I have no idea what I want to do. Oh, and I work at Target. So it goes.
So, you might wonder why I'm doing this blog? Because I'm bored, and because my friend has to do this for class, and in my boredom I decided to make one too. Isn't that fun? Anyway, hopefully future posts are a lot more fun than this one. Because I have thoughts too you know.
Now I know how intriguing the first post of anything always is. It's like that essay the teacher always made you do in elementary school when you got off summer vacation. You know the one, it always had the breathtaking title "What I Did Over Summer Vacation" or "My Trip to Grandma's House" or, and I remember this vividly because I had to read my paper after the kid who wrote this gem of an essay, "The Summer of Nothingness." Pretty much the kid wrote about how he sat on his fat ass all summer long because his parents took away his N64 (I'm dating myself a bit here), and he had no urge to just go outside and run around. He then ended his speech to the class with, "And now I'm here in school, and I really don't give a shit." The other kids were all laughing at how the kid used a bad word, and the teacher literally dragged him all the way to the principal's office. Now how was the the ten-year-old me supposed to follow an act like that?
I went a bit off topic there, and you'll find that I do that a lot, should I continue writing this blog. But my point was, first posts tend to be boring because the author has no direction where to go, no idea what his audience (should he have one) is looking for. So I suppose I should just get the obligatory "getting to know you" bits out of the way. So, Internet, here I am.
My name is Gene Marquez, and I am a student at Southwestern Illinois College in Belleville, Illinois, which not surprisingly is located in southwestern Illinois. Bet that's a shocking bit of news, that there's a school in Southwestern Illinois called Southwestern Illinois, but you know, some places don't have that. Take New Jersey. There isn't a school called the University of New Jersey. It's called Rutgers. Maybe you've heard of it. But I digress.
I'm 21 years old, and I still live at home. Two parents, one brother, one sister. My dad's Filipino, and Mom... my mother's side of the family has English, Irish, Scotch, German, Dutch, and probably something else from Northern Europe. It's a bit of a mix. My siblings and I are staggered enough in age that we celebrate "milestone" birthdays within a calendar year of each other. When I turned 18, my brother turned 13, and my sister turned 10. Right now, I'm 21, my brother is 16, and my sister is 13. Go figure. Don't think my folks planned it out that way, but that's how it worked out. Just a cute little tidbit I thought I'd share.
What else can I say... my dad's a retired major in the US Air Force. You know what that means... we moved a lot. I was born in California at a base that no longer exists; my parents are both native Californians, so I got to see my family a lot for the first few years of my life. When I was 3, we moved to Montana. Big difference between Cali and Montana. Cold, not a lot of people, cold... but I wasn't complaining. Heck, I lived there between the ages of 3 and 6, I didn't know any better. The city we lived in had about 60,000 people, and was Montana's third largest city. Let's see, what can I say about my experience in Montana... my brother was born there, and I got to see a lot of baseball. At the time, the Dodgers had their rookie league team there, and we went to see a lot of games. That might foreshadow a bit of who I am, a kid gains his love of baseball by watching it in the warm, sunny, thriving metropolis known as Great Falls, Montana. Should've known then I was scarring myself for life.
We moved from Montana to Illinois, just outside of St. Louis, just before my 7th birthday. There, we got to see probably better quality baseball with the St. Louis Cardinals; we got there just in time for the arrival of Mark McGwire, the home run race of '98, and his subsequent fall from grace. But I didn't care, I was hooked. It was also in this first stay in Illinois that I began to foster an interest in music; some of my mom's family is musically inclined, and her parents gave my parents the family piano. Mom could dabble in a few tunes, but not really too much; she can read notes, but I'm not sure how much else she knows. We had a songbook on the piano though, and one day I just kinda sat down on the bench and started to teach myself; I couldn't read notes worth a lick, but for some unknown reason the sheet music had numbers, starting at 1 and going up, and I just sort of started to figure out the music. I had no idea what I was doing, and I wouldn't call myself a prodigy at all, but my parents finally figured out that I should probably start taking piano lessons. So I started those in fourth grade. A year later I tried playing trumpet in the school band, but I didn't really like it that much. The band instructor and me didn't get on too well.
In 2001 we moved from Illinois to Oklahoma. By this time, I was old enough to know that I liked Illinois, and I didn't want to leave. And when I got to Oklahoma, I wanted to go back to Illinois. Compared to where we had been, Oklahoma was another world entirely. That, combined with the fact that the attacks on 9/11 happened about a month after we moved, and that my grandmother suffered a stroke in early 2002 and died a few months later, made me less than a happy camper. I mean, I never became a teenage rebel or anything (in fact, I was one of those squeaky clean teens), but it took me a while to get adjusted to Oklahoma. But I kept up with my two passions, music and baseball. I took up trumpet again, playing in the school band for the 3 years we were in Oklahoma (I quit after that though, when I realized I was a terrible marcher), I continued piano lessons, and I played baseball in summer leagues. Not that I was any good, but I just liked it.
In 2004 my Dad retired and he decided to take the family back to Illinois. I was happy to be back. Good to be with my friends and all, you know. Plus, I would be moving at the start of high school, when everybody at the school would be adjusting to high school, so "new kid syndrome" wouldn't be as bad a problem. Let's see, in high school, I was in Spanish Club, Scholar Bowl (I captained the team my senior year, and we went to state!), National Honor Society, yada yada yada. This is really dry, isn't it?
I graduated from O'Fallon Township High School in 2008. I didn't know what I wanted to do, or where I wanted to go to school. I applied at over ten schools, and I got into most of them. Really wanted to go to Syracuse up in New York, but money at the time wasn't gonna work out, so I chose Saint Louis University, just across the Mississippi from home. Got there, didn't like it, got out, and I ended up at SWIC, where I have been for the past two and a half years. Probably still gonna be there next year, because I have no idea what I want to do. Oh, and I work at Target. So it goes.
So, you might wonder why I'm doing this blog? Because I'm bored, and because my friend has to do this for class, and in my boredom I decided to make one too. Isn't that fun? Anyway, hopefully future posts are a lot more fun than this one. Because I have thoughts too you know.
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