What moments will you never forget?
I entered high school as a shy guy freshman. I didn't have any outstanding passions besides video games. My clothing style was a good effort but naive, my haircut was awful, and if it were not for my senior sister and her friends i never would have discovered how one should act at school. One constant in my high school career has been my tardiness. I still am unable to arrive on time no matter where i go. It is just wild ambition. I want to do lots of things and activites and squeze them in before moving on to something else. For example I want to wake up as late as possible, eat breakfast, and not speed on the way to school, but this is unobtainable so I am cronicly late. One day I'll sacrfice comfort for convinence but not right now. I changed in high school because I want the most for myself at the level I am willing to sacrifice for. I am senior class president so I hold responsiblity but I choose to act independently and handle things the way i want to. I have become more independent, more rebellious, and more responsible.
My greatest achievement at RS has been the collective relationships i carry with my fellow seniors, alumni, and underclassmen. Without my peers to recognize me there would be no need to accel. I have made many life long connections that I will carry throughout my lifetime longingly. All of fond memories of high school have been because of the people I've been with. I thank them for being there and I wouldn't have had such an amazing experience without them.
Top 10.
1. Passionate in their own life’s
2. Longing but not dependent
3. Slightly spontaneous
4. Healthy but lethargic
5. Cultured
6. Outgoing and lively
7. Enjoys the little things
8. Level headed
9. Confident
10. Driven with aspiration
A minor character in my life would be my barber. I don't know his name but I’ll never forget his face. He cut my hair in the seat farthest to the left all my life. I was disappointed whenever i got someone different, partly because each barber had their own style and i appreciated my barbers style the most. He was warm, friendly, inviting, and gentle. He was a southern man with hospitality to share. That to me is the ideal southern gentlemen. His small role in my life, once every few months, was that he influenced my childhood opinion of what a man should act like and treat people. A minor character to say the least, but an important one none the less.
Time. Time is your worse enemy. Time is your best friend.Learn how to manage it. I've just now learned how to develop time skills. Most of the time i spent in high school career had been procrastinating and avoiding homework. So this year the most important thing i learned was time management skills and prioritzing. If i had mastered time skills a few years ago then i probably be wearing gold memoriabilla to graduation. Time is also an ultimate healer. Everything heals with time, pain, pride, etc. So have time on your side.
Well let it be known i love to argue. i mean i'd argue with a computer, a stop sign, a brick wall, a bad event, an animal whatever. I'm so stubborn and sometimes i have a natural tendency to just keep arguing, even if im not interested, not behind my argument, making up some irrelevant material to prolong the argument, or just to really let out my anger on something so trivial. often i enrage at the little things and mom has the worst little things. normally i dont blow up at anyone but my mom.
so mom and i argue. its more a big long sigh on my part and a lot of unattended listening waiting for it to end or me just going off at her for something minuscule that doesn't deserve yelling. i cant pinpoint a specific argument besides the one i just had minutes ago that reminded me to write this blog. it was about cheating. i feel it was necessary in surviving the class as someone who took the class and she feels it was wrong and shouldn't have ever been considered as an option as an outside observer. it was probably the closest thing to a logical reasonable argument we've ever had. most of what we argue about are about unwinable subjects such as:
Me not talking loud enough.
Her lack of hearing skills.
Me mumbling.
Her being in the room next to me too far away to hear words, only sounds.
Me being locked out of my own home .
Her locking the front door whenever she sees it unlocked.
Arguing the exact words of a sentence to catch her in a loop hole.
Her buying a knock off brand of food, like food lion store brand over tyson (i believe in the real thing or nothing at all when it comes to food. anything less than the real thing is just bad)
Taking a daily vitamin.
The placement of my papers and other discards from sophomore year that she feels does not need to be in her space but a lowly 4 ft away on another table.
Her reminding me to organize the stack of crap she moved to that table without telling me.
Her moving things when i put them there for a mental reminder.
Items have "homes" ex: shoes in closest, cables in cabinet, papers on tables.
Why i cant leave my ipod cables in a unused spot in front of the computer.
Chores, chores, chores. my chores are to vacuum my room and a hallway and to clean the bathroom on that hallway. cleaning the toilet and shower is the only one i take seriously.
Me telling her, "i've got this, this, and this, and it needs to be done by then" and then her reminding me all weekend of what i told her.
Parking my car in the garage so i dont get frost in the morning.
Calling me to check in after 8 hours of not hearing from me. let the record show i've never been raped, mugged, kidnapped, beaten up, involved in gangs, drug dealing, theft or prison. me leaving the house is just that, leaving the house. when i get a call from the house then that defeats the purpose.
Calling her about whether ill be home for dinner, even though just assume i won't be there.
Her moving and dump more crap from a second upstairs table to my dresser in my room downstairs.
Me holding the door open for her in public when i didnt give any indiction that i was about to hold the door, and i pass the door to her only to have her slip through it and be annoyed at me for not holding it.
The fact that someone should fed the goat now and then.
The fact that shes listening and hearing me but not comprehending me.
Her being peepy at 6:58 am when im pissed off tired.
Me driving her or dads car without a written authorization form from McCurry-Deck... my dad is the head of mccurry-deck!
How she drives (i've long given up on this one. i quietly and angrily keep quiet as we brake and gas, brake and gas. breaking into a curve?? come on)
Telling her there's a message on the answering machine when she is facing it, sorting mail or doing something else involving not looking at it.
Asking me a yes or no question from one side of a room to me 10feet away on the other end of the kitchen, me nodding yes while i eat something, her saying after a 4 second pause "huh? i couldn't hear you", me erupting saying " I nodded my head yes. i didnt even say anything", her saying "well i didn't look, i was busy at the sink" and me puzzled, angry, wondering if I'm kin to her saying "you asked me a question that could be answered with one glance and you didn't look to see if i was answering?!?!"
most of the arguments end in me doing several sighes and facepalms
the list goes on and on but really i think it all relates back to being treated as a child. i am her child so its hard to blame her for these things but its not hard overreacting to them. i channel pretty much outside frustrations into any argument. is it unfair to the person im yelling at? yes, yes it is.
Sleep. We all need it. Babies need it. Children need it. I need it. I am sick at the notion that as adults they don't need sleep so they feel i don't need sleep either. Because of my growing development socially they feel that my biological development is on par. They would be wrong. As a "growing boy" i need more calories and more sleep. That is the reciepe for how i grow. So for the governing adults of the school board and every other teacher/parent/adult to have me wake up before my body is finished resting for another day of physical and mental stress, is hogwash insanity that needs to be addressed and corrected.
The worst part is i get "a lot" of sleep. I'm in bed before midnight and awake after 7, not many of my peers have such a "luxurious sleep schedule. But i am one of the loudest outcryers for more sleep. When i wake up in the morning, to say the least, i feel awful, in every scope of the word. There is no hell like waking up early after a night of poor rest. Sleeping is as important as eating healthy and exercising regulary. So why don't we give it more credit?
Since the school system is built for the betterment of children and adolensce would it be more efficient to have the school system work for the students instead of inhibiting them? As a society we take such much crap. Here at Central, where our standards set standards, we have a mediocre lunch nutrion and a dismal operating hours schedule.
My biggest obstacle has been my high school proficency. During my 9th and 10th grade years i coasted through some of the easiest classes RS had to offer, with C's. I was 100% ignorant to the GPA system and college admissions. I naivly said "I'll go to clemson" as if it were cake walk through the front door. Little did i know that certain requirements had to meet to proceed to the next level. So by the time i learned about this I was in the fall of my junior year. I had the SAT and I had one year to pull up a 3.125 weighted GPA before i sent in applications for college. So i worked, i worked harder than i have before. If it weren't for cruel fate and a 84 in precal i would have had all B's and A's on my report card, a first. So by the time applications needed to be put in i had a 3.56 GPA and numerous extracirriculars. With a confident attitude and goals i was able to put up a worthy application to UNCC and State.
So my biggest obstacle was climbing out of a 2 year hole that i dug for myself
Chivalrous and scholarly, stubborn yet permissive, cultured but unpretentious . A crony forever
My life began in the same place it remains, Rutherfordton, or as a bill, my sister received said Rutherfordton, North Carolina. Its quant cozy and comfortable. It is a small town with wide rural areas. It is a combination of the last centuries charm and the progressing new millennium. The buildings on main street are dear to me, especially Ace Hardware. I used to go with my mom and just walk on the crinkity wooden floors and mess with the nic nacs around the store. That was just one of the places we would go in town that makes me like it here. The other being “Hairkutters” on main street Rutherfordton. I have enjoyed getting my haircut as long as I can remember. I told my mother so one time and I think that might had been the last thing I willingly told her for several years.
I was born in Rutherfordton hospital on the 18th day of November in 1991. I like the date of my birthday, it’s a good number. I am the second child by 3 years. I don’t recall any memories up until preschool, although I’ve been told that as a baby I slept a lot, ate a lot, and was pretty calm. My first memory was learning to write my name with Mrs. Debbie Johnson. It was the preschool at my church, Spindale Methodist. My buddy Cameron Long was in there, that’s where I meet him and we’ve been compodres ever since, even when he moved away. There at the pre school Mrs. Debbie had me write in capital letter on a think piece of paper with thick spaced lines and dotted lines in the center to help keep a 4 year old within the lines. I cannot remember but I assume I wrote Brian, maybe even Deck. The memory is scratchy; I remember writing my name and sitting at the desk but not much else Sometime after that I remember graduating pre school and getting a diploma in front of the alter. My tale then moves on to Rutherfordton Elementary were I developed parts of my personality that I pride myself on today.
I entered Mrs. Jones’s house to a room, a gi-normous room with cockatoos flying and squawking about, dress rooms for pretend dress up, computers (old software), a sink where the midday snacks would be, a large sitting area, and an even bigger play area. This was my kinder garden class. It was one of the best classes I’ve ever taken. I was read The Chronicles of Narnia during naptime, I made up stories that Mrs. Maze (assistant teacher) would write down. I was an excellent storyteller back in the day. I would play with the guinea pigs and I wanted a rabbit for a few years after that. we would be video taped and to this day I still pop in that video and see myself and plenty of my old and current friends in miniature form. One time Alex Thompson built a building out of wooden blocks. It reminded me of a castle. However, it was completely symmetrical up until the top. It had three spires with the middle one being the tallest. Alex had one triangle facing outward per spire but when he went to put the middle spire triangle on he placed it facing to the right, so the symmetry of the entire piece was compromised and I felt destroyed. So I moved it. I turned that block in a 90o angle and made it face north and south, not west or east. This annoyed Alex but this was my first critique of an artwork so I wasn’t very educated in the process. Alex moved it back then I moved it back and I don’t remember how it was resolved but Alex won and he was allowed to keep his structures integrity even though it was clearly wrong to me. Alex and I have been best of friends ever since.
First grade was neat. The desks were lined up in a square. Here I made friends with J.T. McClain, one of my best friends in 1st grade, along with a couple others I still enjoy talking to today. I took a Disney cruise to the Bahamas. That was one of my favorite vacations. The purpose of 1st grade was simple or at least I remember it being, reading. Learn to read books. One time I walked up to Mrs. Vaughan and asked her if I could read the book about the crocodile at the zoo. I believe her answer was a gentle no that we’ll be reading later. I’ve never wanted to read since. This was also the first introduction to Accelerated Reading; the only way to describe this is a mix of competition and requirement. You MUST have X amount of AR points so you must read X amount of books to get the magic number. It was a game of numbers, I always scraped by but at least I did it. I wasn’t a large fan of AR but I also wasn’t a large fan of reading either so those circumstances led to less desire to read.
Mrs. Sally Wells was a nice younger woman. She had a Nanny Fran Fine hairdo and maybe it was just my illusion but I don’t think she liked me. The assistant teacher was my bus driver, Mrs. Dotson. I wrote the bus every year until Freshman year at Central except for off and on 1st grade. I liked the bus. I don’t know why it gets so much hate. You see people you’d rather not see sure but it can be a nice time to chill. I had a 45-minute bus ride or something like that. I would turn over on my back, once the seat was cleared, and criss cross my legs perpendicular to the window and I would sleep, almost every day. Sometimes I’d be asleep as the bus was breaking next to my driveway and someone would have to say “he’s on, he’s just asleep”. I like Mrs. Dotson, she was genuinely kind but could get mean if you didn't follow bus rules. To my knowledge she’s still driving buses. But 2nd grade really had no purpose as I remember. I do remember that Dragonball Z and Yu-Gi-Oh was all the rage on the blacktop, I also remember that I had miserable allergies and used too many tissues and Mrs. Wells didn’t like that. one time I got up to ask Mrs. wells what my middle name was, because truly I didn’t know, and she looked at me blankly while Mrs. Dotson told me what she thought it might be. I learned to spell Kenneth in 2nd grade. I recall an event that occurred that will not be soon forgotten. On the playground we played like school children, but I played the hardest. One day a boy named James and I were having a berry fight where we would pick up fallen small red berries and throw them at each other. I was being repelled back towards the retaining fence when I ran out of ammo. I looked and saw an entire bush tree stocked with berries ready to be thrown at James. So I scaled the fence. Sure, it reached the skyline and then some but I need more berries. After the haul up the peak I picked my berries and proceded to dismount the fence, I then found a problem with that. I peered at my right arm and observed that there was a metal fence in my arm where there should be a metal fence. I lifted my arm climbed down told James I was done with the game and carried on to linger over to Mrs. Dotson who was at the bottom center of the playground with Mrs. wells. I felt no pain that part was clear. I didn’t feel the entry I didn’t feel the exit. I didn’t feel any “ouch” or “oh’s” I just walked over to my teachers showed them my arm and waited for them to do something about it. It was an opening in my arm. I recall my analogy of it looks like runny eggs with ketchup on them. So fathers were called, get out of school notes were written, and trips to the hospital ensued. I had to have stitches, therefore they had to numb the area. That hurt, no that REALLY hurt, to the point of tears. That was the only pain I felt, him numbing it so I’d feel no pain, ironic. He laced me up but he missed a numb area and basically poked me with a needle, it was pleasant and was uncomfortable to tell him that that spot is not numb and that that hurts. When I got back to school I got two little plastic toys from both my teachers and welcome back smiles.
3rd grade was my harry potter, pizza parties, and overall party grade. I had, the man himself, Mr. Ezell (now a principal or vice principal at Spindale). He made everything fun. it was a 3rd grade/ 4th grade mixed class and it was a blast. We had 11 pizza parties throughout the year. we won our parties by beating the other 3rd grade teachers and then by gloating about it. Mr. Ezell gave me a timeless quote: “Oh! It’s hot in here there must a fridge in the atmosphere” along with “ my pants too low, my belt too tight, my booty shaking from left to right”. He read to us Bridge to Terabithia. There was one class favorite that I remember the most, Zach Powers in the flesh. We could give Mr. Ezell massages after lunch but Zach would hog Ezell's shoulders. I didn’t like Zach back then. I also met my to be best friend Adam Beasley who displayed exceptional skills at being smart. On field day we did the we are the titans cheer like in the movie but “we are the Ezells, the mighty mighty Freemans (assistant teachers name) everywhere we go, people want to know, who we are, so we tell them… repeat” it was all fun and making learning fun, which Mr. Ezell was able to do. I still remember the scent of his hair gel that could be smelled from a yard away.
4th grades when we moved upstairs, I felt like I got a promotion. I had Mrs. Garren, a very sweet 50ish year old lady who I really liked. two outstanding things happened in 4th grade. 9/11 hit and I remember Mrs. Garrens panic because one of her daughters was suppose to be in New York so I was send to the office to relay messages. I didn’t really understand because no one would say what happened. When I got home I saw mom watching the news. It was a smoking building and a plane crashing into it. she had a deep silence about her that told me something was wrong and she was upset. After watching the news for a few hours I asked why they did it. I don’t remember what mom sad but I know I condemned the actions as “dumb and stupid”. Besides 9/11 I meet Kortney Hamby in 4th grade. I thought she was pretty, that was the first girl I found to be really pretty. I was a timid young lad, still can be, so I didn’t talk much but we were friends so I was pleased. Onward to Math Class
Without doubt 5th grade was the best year of elementary school. My favorite teacher was the woman I hug every time I see here. She was an avid UNC fan and I gave her hell for it. she was as sassy and smart alike as I was and she could dish it out and take it too. We would have across the room playful exchanges the same way I still do with my teachers today. To this day my name has been Mister Deck and I’d have it no other way. This lady is Mrs. Ginger Meador, my favorite teacher of elementary school. She taught excel math. I was garbage at it, too impatient and careless. I sat next to Caroline Pocock sometimes. I remember one time she got a 99.7% on her report card. I took that class with Adam who at this point was my rival more than my best friend, mostly on the REC soccer field but it carried into the classroom. We dueled with pens one time. Also I remember class changes. This free time in the halls is where I meet my best friend and brother Ryan Rosier. He was a goofball and remains the same to this day. I also had class with my best friend Patrick Bearden. Pat and I had been the best of friends since he moved here from Louisiana. I would go over to Patrick’s house and we play video games and eat Butterfinger ice cream bars. One time at his house we were on the trampoline and I did a twist and landed with my neck meets my spine. It instantly shot pain through me and I felt crippled. I thought I was going to be handicap, fortunately I just need a good nights rest. Another time, and this is one of my favorite memories spanning across all memories, I went over for Patrick’s older brother will’s birthday party. It was Will, Me, Pat, another of Wills friends and Curtis Morgan. We played Conker’s Bad Fur Day for the N64. we played multiplayer until the sun came up. It’s a game about a little foul mouthed squirrel and you violently attacked other furry creatures with chainsaws, Gatling guns, machetes, duel pistols, billy clubs, among other items. That night we were playing and curtis was so hilarious all night long. Making jokes left and right and building up a storm of laughter. Conkers bad fur day is now my favorite game of all time. Another time at Patrick’s it snowed and I got snowed in. so we went sledding and played in the snow and played man hunt. Time spent at Patrick’s house was timeless and irreplaceable. A large part of 5th grade was the dodgeball court of P.E. I was a champion. I was good. I could get you out if I wanted you gone. Mrs. Thorn was the P.E. teacher and she could play with the best of ‘em. One game we played in P.E. involved nothing but running as fast as you can randomly in the gym while avoid hitting anyone else, it was ecstasy. I made the decision to go to Thomas Jefferson Classical Academy because I couldn’t tolerate the idiots who I knew where going to go be at RS Middle. So I made a promise to go to TJ and then go to Central.
6th grade opens up in a new setting, Thomas Jefferson Classical Academy. Homeroom stands out most vivid in my mind because this was my class for the rest of middle school. 6-8th we went to every class together. At TJ I made live long solid friends. We were small but tightly knit group of friends and we still hang out today. Here I meet another one of my very good friends. One day in art class I got up from my table, searched for some scissors, returned to my seat only to find that Will was occupying it and did not intend to move. So I tried to make him move and rattled his chair but his tenacity remained and it was only a matter of time before Mrs. Masterman turned her head. “AHHHH! BRIAN!”. The quote is still engrained in my head and when I meet up with old friends I’m often greeted with an “ahhh brian!”. Will was a little trouble maker that made it look twice as bad as it looked. I was a victim to his shenanigans and I got the blame for it. TJ was new for me. I didn’t mind the uniforms but I minded tucking in my shirt, I remained stubborn through the year despite a many threats from teachers but I felt my ground and let my shirt breathe. For a field trip one day Mr. Maimone (the headmaster) took the entire school to see Lord of the Rings 3 in theaters. We fit the whole school in that one room at forest city theaters. Kortney Hamby was also in my class. I wrote the bus morning and morning out. The bus taught me respect, entitlement, and principle. The older kids sat in the back period. You do not challenge an older high scholar for a bus seat. This is idea of entitlement was reinforced freshman year. Instead of field days we had Olympic day where we’d be a team from a country. We were Brazil, wooh wooh, and we had lots of fun making tie dye shirts.
7th grade was over before it began. Not many memories in 7th except that Kortney and I dated for a 6ish months and I was relentlessly ridiculed. Not because there were any problems but because I had a girl and that was amusing and public entertainment to people, and by people I mean Will and all my other friends on the bus and in the classroom. As a part of the curriculum we had a writing class. We had nothing but writing every Tuesday and Thursday. I don’t remember how I survived that class. I don’t consider myself a creative writer and that’s mainly what we worked on. Our teacher was Mrs. Scruggs and one look at him would remind you of Severus Snape from the harry potter movies. 7th grade happened very suddenly but I know I grew less timid and was in full bloom of awesomeness for 8th grade
8th grade was located in a new building, the Annex. I felt it was a perk of being in 8th grade. So at this point I am a leader of our group of friends. I’ve never known as the “white boy” for some time now and we’re all ready to have fun again. I had my second favorite teacher in 8th grade. He was my US history teacher and his and my styles do not mingle well at all. But we gained each other respect, admiration, and sense of humor and we were unspoken friends before you knew it. His name was Mr. Smith. He was a young man, 27 or so, but he was sophisticated, wore a suit to class everyday, and stressed things that is unnecessary for an 8th grader to know. He’s extremely intelligent and a gifted debater. His sense of humor peaked through during his lectures and I would harp on them, forcing him to give a smile but continue telling us why the British did so and so. He had us do a presentation of events. I did the battle of bunker hill and the battle of Gettysburg on PowerPoint. Except my PowerPoint was the talk of the class. I would spent all my time drawing stick figures, and then paste them to the PP and add animation. Basically I made a stick figure animation presentation that was education but also creative and fun. mixed with tracks like “Another Bites the Dust” I could really make a battle scene come alive. Mr. Smith never said “this is crap, my two year old cousin could do this” (unlike Mr. Long freshman year). He judged it with an open mind and graded appropriately, I got a good grade. Mr. smith said that I could be a Politian because I easily make friends and other reasons. That’s why I entered politics at central, just kidding. 8th grade was the best year of middle school and, to that point, of my school career. I graduated and went to Central but I never left my gryphon pride. I want to go back, visit the school, and see all my old teachers that had such an impact on me. I left the school but the school never left me.
