I try not to write too often about current events, but this whole story has captivated so many people over the past few days, including myself, that I feel obligated to write something. This was a story that I tried to avoid at first, but as it became apparent that it wasn't going away, I got wrapped into it. And now here I am, trying to put my thoughts into words.
For those who don't know, earlier this evening Penn State football coach Joe Paterno was let go due to his affiliation with a child abuse scandal concerning some of his former staff members. I certainly don't have the knowledge or information to expand on the case itself, and I don't know that anyone does. And I don't know that I have the eloquence to write about the situation, but I feel somewhat obligated too.
Over the past few days, everyone in the media has made it a point to recognize that the children who were abused, and their families, are the people we should be focused on and feel sympathy for. I totally agree. Having worked with a great number of children in different capacities over a number of years, I cannot think of any reason that any child would deserve to be sexually abused. Actually, deserve is the wrong word. No child should ever be sexually abused, period. I think that anyone would agree with that statement.
To think that any child should ever have to live with that experience is frightening and sickening. And to think that anyone would ever bring that upon a child is incredibly disturbing. I don't understand the logic behind any man or woman who would ever expose a child to that.
That being said, when this story first broke, I was not on the "Fire Paterno" bandwagon. While it is clear that Paterno never took part in any of the abuse directly, it remains unclear (to me) just how he relates to this case, outside of the fact that he was working with some of these alleged criminals. We, as the public, still know very little about what Paterno knew at the time, and what he declined and/or failed to report. Really, the only person who knows is Joe Paterno himself.
By all accounts, Paterno is a high-character, high-moral man, who has made a name for himself by molding boys into men for generations. As a coach, he not only maintained success on the field, but made sure his players graduated and succeeded inside and out of the game of football. And it is a shame to think that his legacy may be tarnished by one incident, or one poor lack of judgment, even if that lack of judgment may have come out of extreme loyalty.
It remains to be seen where this will end up, and I honestly feel for the players, coaches, and community of Penn State. While the children who were abused are obviously the most severe victims of these heinous crimes, some people forget that there are also 18 and 19 year old young men competing on the football field who are having their worlds turned upside down right now because of a few people's poor judgments. There are men, women, and families who have been shaken to the core by allegations of their hero's misdeeds. There is a university, and a whole community, who will never be the same. For, as anyone is Pennsylvania, or who is familiar with college football can tell you, State College becomes the third largest city in Pennsylvania on Saturdays in the fall. And Joe Paterno made that happen.
Paterno may ultimately be the fall guy in this whole scenario, and I hope that is true. I hope that he knew nothing, and is just the big name in this story that the media jumped all over. I hope that the man who has been on the sidelines for Penn State football since my parents were children holds to that reputation as a high-character, high-moral man for generations to come. I hope Penn State football survives and maintains it's high standards, if for no other reason than I am a selfish, stubborn sports fan. And above all else, I hope that whatever, if any, misdeeds he committed didn't lead to any other children being harmed. I hope, but I am not optimistic.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Identity
So I haven't written in a while, but this is something that I've been meaning to write for a while, so please bear with me.
Recently I cut my hair. Like, really cut my hair. I had had long, shaggy hair for about the past decade, and then one night decided to cut it all off. Most of the reaction was positive, and I think that most people like the new look. Although I did have a mother's friend tell me last weekend at a wedding that she was disappointed because she couldn't make fun of me anymore. But the most common reaction I got, besides shock and awe, was "don't you miss it/feel weird/feel not like yourself?".
It's an interesting perspective, and it has taken me quite a while to get used to having short hair. And at first, yea, it felt a little weird. I'm not sure how much my longer hair tied into my identity, but it definitely did, in good ways and bad. For example, I could go out to bars with friends and be the guy with long hair. Which was usually a good thing, because generally people will tell you they love your hair, and not discuss it if they really hate it. Then again, anytime I had to dress up and go somewhere nice, I would stand out as the guy who obviously never dresses up because look at that shaggy mane.
This is all coming from a pretty real place. I liked being able to stand out, and although I genuinely did like having long hair, it didn't hurt that it set me apart. Conversely, it was frustrating sometimes to try and go out, or even to job interviews, and not be taken seriously just because my hair was a little bit shaggier than others. That being said, I still feel great, and even mostly like myself with short hair.
I only say mostly only because my hair was almost my "signature" for a long time. Whether people were giving me a hard time or scratching my head, I feel like generally people enjoyed the hair, or couldn't have cared less about it. It was a calling card, so to speak, and now that is gone, but I don't think in a bad way.
Yea, I was the guy with the hair for a long time, and it was great. I certainly wouldn't trade any of it for the world. But now I have short hair, and sure enough, I'm pretty much the same guy. Plus, I still have my shaggy beard, so I'm not too clean cut yet.
Recently I cut my hair. Like, really cut my hair. I had had long, shaggy hair for about the past decade, and then one night decided to cut it all off. Most of the reaction was positive, and I think that most people like the new look. Although I did have a mother's friend tell me last weekend at a wedding that she was disappointed because she couldn't make fun of me anymore. But the most common reaction I got, besides shock and awe, was "don't you miss it/feel weird/feel not like yourself?".
It's an interesting perspective, and it has taken me quite a while to get used to having short hair. And at first, yea, it felt a little weird. I'm not sure how much my longer hair tied into my identity, but it definitely did, in good ways and bad. For example, I could go out to bars with friends and be the guy with long hair. Which was usually a good thing, because generally people will tell you they love your hair, and not discuss it if they really hate it. Then again, anytime I had to dress up and go somewhere nice, I would stand out as the guy who obviously never dresses up because look at that shaggy mane.
This is all coming from a pretty real place. I liked being able to stand out, and although I genuinely did like having long hair, it didn't hurt that it set me apart. Conversely, it was frustrating sometimes to try and go out, or even to job interviews, and not be taken seriously just because my hair was a little bit shaggier than others. That being said, I still feel great, and even mostly like myself with short hair.
I only say mostly only because my hair was almost my "signature" for a long time. Whether people were giving me a hard time or scratching my head, I feel like generally people enjoyed the hair, or couldn't have cared less about it. It was a calling card, so to speak, and now that is gone, but I don't think in a bad way.
Yea, I was the guy with the hair for a long time, and it was great. I certainly wouldn't trade any of it for the world. But now I have short hair, and sure enough, I'm pretty much the same guy. Plus, I still have my shaggy beard, so I'm not too clean cut yet.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Sports
I've been watching a lot of the Little League World Series recently (the house I currently live in doesn't have cable, so the majority of the sports I watch are on ESPN3 through our XBox 360). As I watched, it made me think about my own youth sports experience and how many random memories I have...
I remember making a stretch play at first base on a ground ball back to the pitcher on the first baseball team I ever played on.
I remember making my scoring my first two points on the first basketball team I played on, and having my dad tell me afterward that I shouldn't throw my hands up in the air after I score.
I remember wanting to play center my first year of organized football, because that's what my dad played.
I remember swatting the bejesus out of a friend's shot in a basketball game, getting called for a foul, and then literally laughing on the court with my friend.
I remember hitting a single and scoring a run in a championship game in baseball (it was probably my second or third hit all year).
I remember losing a semifinal game in basketball my second year, in which we nearly came back and lost by 2. I remember going to bed, then going to my parents crying because I was afraid I would never win a championship in anything. I think I was 8 or 9 at the time.
I remember winning a championship in basketball the next year, and my coach calling me the "Shaquille O'Neal" of the league as he handed me my trophy.
I remember getting licked while practicing on side kicks by one of the hardest hitting kids on my team. Then laughing about it with the coaches and the kid.
I remember making a snap tag on a throw up the line the last year I played baseball. I also remember another mother commending me for being so positive and encouraging.
I remember a basketball practice in 5th grade where we were all so out of control that we eventually had a dog pile at half court, and feeling bad because the coach couldn't stop us.
I remember leaving a middle school dance early so I could go to bed, then losing to one of my best friend's team in basketball the next day.
I remember throwing a ball from deep right field all the way to the plate to save a kid from getting a home run in the last inning. We lost anyways.
I remember finding out that I would get to play tight end in 8th grade, and being pretty pumped.
I remember when my 7th grade basketball team scored 75 points in a 32 minute game, and contributing 16.
I remember making a sliding one handed grab in one of our first football games, and the ref calling it incomplete (it wasn't).
I remember getting fouled at the end of a close game in 8th grade when we were down by one. I remember looking at the crowd, then at the bench in a panic. Then I remember looking at my friend underneath the basket pointing at me and laughing. I made both free throws and we won. He later told me he was just glad it wasn't him.
I remember getting my first and only interception on a screen pass that I read. I remember running towards the end zone with no one in front of me, then getting caught by the fastest player on the other team after about 15 yards (maybe).
I remember getting a clean line to the quarterback late in a close game. I remember hitting him, and then apparently I got up and danced. I got yelled at, but I literally don't remember dancing, just hitting him and getting yelled at.
I could go on and on, through all my phenomenal memories of high school basketball, to pick up football and sandlot baseball. And as you may know, I love sports. I was the kid who would wake up and watch Sportscenter twice through. I love the Baltimore Ravens and the Orioles, Georgetown and Temple basketball, and just watching the games in general. Hopefully, some day, my life and career will incorporate sports in some way. But I hope I never lose all those memories, and I'm glad those kids at the Little League World Series helped remind me.
I remember making a stretch play at first base on a ground ball back to the pitcher on the first baseball team I ever played on.
I remember making my scoring my first two points on the first basketball team I played on, and having my dad tell me afterward that I shouldn't throw my hands up in the air after I score.
I remember wanting to play center my first year of organized football, because that's what my dad played.
I remember swatting the bejesus out of a friend's shot in a basketball game, getting called for a foul, and then literally laughing on the court with my friend.
I remember hitting a single and scoring a run in a championship game in baseball (it was probably my second or third hit all year).
I remember losing a semifinal game in basketball my second year, in which we nearly came back and lost by 2. I remember going to bed, then going to my parents crying because I was afraid I would never win a championship in anything. I think I was 8 or 9 at the time.
I remember winning a championship in basketball the next year, and my coach calling me the "Shaquille O'Neal" of the league as he handed me my trophy.
I remember getting licked while practicing on side kicks by one of the hardest hitting kids on my team. Then laughing about it with the coaches and the kid.
I remember making a snap tag on a throw up the line the last year I played baseball. I also remember another mother commending me for being so positive and encouraging.
I remember a basketball practice in 5th grade where we were all so out of control that we eventually had a dog pile at half court, and feeling bad because the coach couldn't stop us.
I remember leaving a middle school dance early so I could go to bed, then losing to one of my best friend's team in basketball the next day.
I remember throwing a ball from deep right field all the way to the plate to save a kid from getting a home run in the last inning. We lost anyways.
I remember finding out that I would get to play tight end in 8th grade, and being pretty pumped.
I remember when my 7th grade basketball team scored 75 points in a 32 minute game, and contributing 16.
I remember making a sliding one handed grab in one of our first football games, and the ref calling it incomplete (it wasn't).
I remember getting fouled at the end of a close game in 8th grade when we were down by one. I remember looking at the crowd, then at the bench in a panic. Then I remember looking at my friend underneath the basket pointing at me and laughing. I made both free throws and we won. He later told me he was just glad it wasn't him.
I remember getting my first and only interception on a screen pass that I read. I remember running towards the end zone with no one in front of me, then getting caught by the fastest player on the other team after about 15 yards (maybe).
I remember getting a clean line to the quarterback late in a close game. I remember hitting him, and then apparently I got up and danced. I got yelled at, but I literally don't remember dancing, just hitting him and getting yelled at.
I could go on and on, through all my phenomenal memories of high school basketball, to pick up football and sandlot baseball. And as you may know, I love sports. I was the kid who would wake up and watch Sportscenter twice through. I love the Baltimore Ravens and the Orioles, Georgetown and Temple basketball, and just watching the games in general. Hopefully, some day, my life and career will incorporate sports in some way. But I hope I never lose all those memories, and I'm glad those kids at the Little League World Series helped remind me.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Expectations and Motivation
This one might be a long one, just a heads up. So I just got a new job last week busing tables at a restaurant. Now I have no problem busing tables, because I needed a job and have no qualms about cleaning up after people. But it did make me start thinking about some things.
If I could go back in time four years, or eight, or ten, and ask my younger self what I thought about my future, I'm not sure what I would've said. I'm very much a go-with-the-flow type guy, and don't worry too much about what the future holds. I probably would've assumed that I would be teaching, or working for some business, making plenty of money and being a stable adult. If I had known that I would be living in South Philly, not making much money, and generally living, as my friend refers to it, "in a fantasy world", I would've never believed it.
I also wonder what people who I used to know might think of me now. High school classmates and teachers, college friends and professors. Would they believe that I still had long, shaggy hair and a thick beard? Or that I sit on my stoop for a few hours a day chatting with neighbors and smoking hand rolled cigarettes? I doubt any of them envisioned that as my future. But what does it all mean exactly?
I don't view myself as a failure in any way, shape, or form. Would I like to be making more money? Of course, but so would most people. Would I like to get a job that I loved doing? Absolutely, but I know that is a luxury for most of the world. And am I happy with my life? Certainly, at least most of the time. Which leads me to the "motivation" part.
I am incredibly envious of people who seem to have it figured out. My little sister is currently in San Diego, working for a non-profit that she feels passionately about. And while I couldn't be happier for her, I'm also jealous that she has found something she loves doing. There are things in this world that I believe in, and things in this world that I really enjoy doing. But I don't know that I've found something that I have that kind of passion for yet. I'm not sure if it's because I'm still growing up, or because I haven't tried hard enough, or if that thing just hasn't come along in my life yet. But I think it would be really cool to have that thing to push me.
As I said, I am very happy with the life I lead. I realize what a great life I've lead, and couldn't ask for much more. I just can't help but wonder, if life has taken me down this path that I never expected already, what's next?
If I could go back in time four years, or eight, or ten, and ask my younger self what I thought about my future, I'm not sure what I would've said. I'm very much a go-with-the-flow type guy, and don't worry too much about what the future holds. I probably would've assumed that I would be teaching, or working for some business, making plenty of money and being a stable adult. If I had known that I would be living in South Philly, not making much money, and generally living, as my friend refers to it, "in a fantasy world", I would've never believed it.
I also wonder what people who I used to know might think of me now. High school classmates and teachers, college friends and professors. Would they believe that I still had long, shaggy hair and a thick beard? Or that I sit on my stoop for a few hours a day chatting with neighbors and smoking hand rolled cigarettes? I doubt any of them envisioned that as my future. But what does it all mean exactly?
I don't view myself as a failure in any way, shape, or form. Would I like to be making more money? Of course, but so would most people. Would I like to get a job that I loved doing? Absolutely, but I know that is a luxury for most of the world. And am I happy with my life? Certainly, at least most of the time. Which leads me to the "motivation" part.
I am incredibly envious of people who seem to have it figured out. My little sister is currently in San Diego, working for a non-profit that she feels passionately about. And while I couldn't be happier for her, I'm also jealous that she has found something she loves doing. There are things in this world that I believe in, and things in this world that I really enjoy doing. But I don't know that I've found something that I have that kind of passion for yet. I'm not sure if it's because I'm still growing up, or because I haven't tried hard enough, or if that thing just hasn't come along in my life yet. But I think it would be really cool to have that thing to push me.
As I said, I am very happy with the life I lead. I realize what a great life I've lead, and couldn't ask for much more. I just can't help but wonder, if life has taken me down this path that I never expected already, what's next?
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Where I Live
It's been a while since I've written anything, mostly because I've been pretty busy, but also just because I haven't made time for it. Now that I'm semi-unemployed, I should be writing more, so here goes nothing.
I have been fortunate enough to live in South Philly for two years now, and have loved pretty much every minute of it. I live in a large house with 5 other wonderful roommates, although two of them are rarely around. Some of those roommates have come and gone, or are on their way out, or are new, but in general, everyone who has lived here while I have has been awesome.
I'm also lucky enough to live on a superb block. I know my neighbors, and they know me, and we all get along swimmingly. I can generally sit on my stoop and find someone to have a conversation with anytime of day or night, and it's pretty fantastic. I've made plenty of friends, and had some crazy experiences that I wouldn't trade for anything.
I think now that we have been here for two years, we are pretty well entrenched in the community. Me especially. Part of the reason is that I'm on the stoop anywhere from 2-8 hours a day, partially because I'm smoking or drinking with my neighbors, and in part because I just enjoy it. Our stoop can be an escape, in a people-watching, chilling sense, not a middle-of-the-woods sense. And that's what it has been for me these past few years.
I can go out on my stoop, smoke a cigarette, and just think. About whatever problems I may have, about family and friends, about life in general. Sometimes my neighbors help me take my mind of things by coming over, drinking a beer or two, and discussing anything from sports to neighbors to race relations and beyond. And it's fantastic.
I know that at some point, probably sooner rather than later, this great ride is going to come to an end. As I said, roommates have already come and gone, and most are closer to leaving now. I myself may be closer to leaving than I even know, who knows? But I do know that I will cherish this time in my life, and the friends I have made, and wish that it never had to end (at risk of sounding cliche).
The moral of this story, I think, is that there are certain parts about growing up that suck. As I get older, and come to grips with that, and prepare for another part of my life, I find myself becoming more and more reminiscent, missing people and times and places, and worrying about difficult goodbyes.
I hope this doesn't come off as too sad, because that was not my intention. I am super thankful for the experiences I've had and the people I've met here in South Philly. I've been just about as lucky as anyone could ask for. I know that I have nothing but good times ahead, and look forward to them. I'm just in a reflective mood, and I know that when I leave, whenever that is, I'm going to miss the hell out of Wharton School for the Gifted.
I have been fortunate enough to live in South Philly for two years now, and have loved pretty much every minute of it. I live in a large house with 5 other wonderful roommates, although two of them are rarely around. Some of those roommates have come and gone, or are on their way out, or are new, but in general, everyone who has lived here while I have has been awesome.
I'm also lucky enough to live on a superb block. I know my neighbors, and they know me, and we all get along swimmingly. I can generally sit on my stoop and find someone to have a conversation with anytime of day or night, and it's pretty fantastic. I've made plenty of friends, and had some crazy experiences that I wouldn't trade for anything.
I think now that we have been here for two years, we are pretty well entrenched in the community. Me especially. Part of the reason is that I'm on the stoop anywhere from 2-8 hours a day, partially because I'm smoking or drinking with my neighbors, and in part because I just enjoy it. Our stoop can be an escape, in a people-watching, chilling sense, not a middle-of-the-woods sense. And that's what it has been for me these past few years.
I can go out on my stoop, smoke a cigarette, and just think. About whatever problems I may have, about family and friends, about life in general. Sometimes my neighbors help me take my mind of things by coming over, drinking a beer or two, and discussing anything from sports to neighbors to race relations and beyond. And it's fantastic.
I know that at some point, probably sooner rather than later, this great ride is going to come to an end. As I said, roommates have already come and gone, and most are closer to leaving now. I myself may be closer to leaving than I even know, who knows? But I do know that I will cherish this time in my life, and the friends I have made, and wish that it never had to end (at risk of sounding cliche).
The moral of this story, I think, is that there are certain parts about growing up that suck. As I get older, and come to grips with that, and prepare for another part of my life, I find myself becoming more and more reminiscent, missing people and times and places, and worrying about difficult goodbyes.
I hope this doesn't come off as too sad, because that was not my intention. I am super thankful for the experiences I've had and the people I've met here in South Philly. I've been just about as lucky as anyone could ask for. I know that I have nothing but good times ahead, and look forward to them. I'm just in a reflective mood, and I know that when I leave, whenever that is, I'm going to miss the hell out of Wharton School for the Gifted.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Intro
So I have been contemplating starting a blog for a while, and now I'm doing it. I figured the best way to start would be to write about myself, and although I know pretty much everyone who reads this will know me, I'm going to do it anyways.
-The name of this blog is a combination of two of my nicknames, "Waters" and "The Big Cat". It is not meant to be poetic. How did I get those nicknames? I don't really know. I also go by RaRa, Rah-rah Lah-hah, R-Dawg, or just Rorie.
-I was born in Baltimore, and grew up in Severna Park, Maryland. For now I live in South Philadelphia, and I love it.
-I have an awesome family and a really great group of friends from both my hometown and here in Philadelphia. I am also terrible at keeping in touch, and they don't hold it against me, which makes them even more awesome.
-I am a terrible morning person. Or more generally, a terrible waking up person. As in, I never want to wake up, and not in a depressing, can't get out of bed kind of way.
-I like sports, a lot. I will probably write about sports on this blog sometimes. However I don't have cable, so my opinions are based on whatever I can see/read whenever I can.
-I am open about lots of things, but not everything. I am easy-going and open-minded, and generally like just about everybody, so if I don't like you, there must be something really wrong with you (just kidding).
-It's hard for me to be mean, even jokingly (see above fact).
-I very rarely reread what I write, so I don't edit what I write. Don't hold it against me.
-I procrastinate, and am consistently late. I like to consider myself always "fashionably late".
-I like drinking beer, sometimes too much for my own good.
-I'd like to think I'm a pretty smart guy and a pretty decent writer. You may disagree. That's okay. I'm aware that I am neither the smartest nor the best writer ever. It's okay. I'm over it.
-I have a beard, and I love it. But not in an obsessive, "I'll never shave it" kind of way. Once upon a time, I had some pretty terrible mustaches. Photo evidence does exist. I'm not ashamed.
-I will try to post here somewhat frequently, especially early on. I may also stop posting after two weeks, in which case I'm sure you will be terribly disappointed. I'm sorry. I go with the flow, so I write when I feel like it.
That's about all I've got for now. Hope that wasn't too long (I'm still learning this whole blogging thing)...
-The name of this blog is a combination of two of my nicknames, "Waters" and "The Big Cat". It is not meant to be poetic. How did I get those nicknames? I don't really know. I also go by RaRa, Rah-rah Lah-hah, R-Dawg, or just Rorie.
-I was born in Baltimore, and grew up in Severna Park, Maryland. For now I live in South Philadelphia, and I love it.
-I have an awesome family and a really great group of friends from both my hometown and here in Philadelphia. I am also terrible at keeping in touch, and they don't hold it against me, which makes them even more awesome.
-I am a terrible morning person. Or more generally, a terrible waking up person. As in, I never want to wake up, and not in a depressing, can't get out of bed kind of way.
-I like sports, a lot. I will probably write about sports on this blog sometimes. However I don't have cable, so my opinions are based on whatever I can see/read whenever I can.
-I am open about lots of things, but not everything. I am easy-going and open-minded, and generally like just about everybody, so if I don't like you, there must be something really wrong with you (just kidding).
-It's hard for me to be mean, even jokingly (see above fact).
-I very rarely reread what I write, so I don't edit what I write. Don't hold it against me.
-I procrastinate, and am consistently late. I like to consider myself always "fashionably late".
-I like drinking beer, sometimes too much for my own good.
-I'd like to think I'm a pretty smart guy and a pretty decent writer. You may disagree. That's okay. I'm aware that I am neither the smartest nor the best writer ever. It's okay. I'm over it.
-I have a beard, and I love it. But not in an obsessive, "I'll never shave it" kind of way. Once upon a time, I had some pretty terrible mustaches. Photo evidence does exist. I'm not ashamed.
-I will try to post here somewhat frequently, especially early on. I may also stop posting after two weeks, in which case I'm sure you will be terribly disappointed. I'm sorry. I go with the flow, so I write when I feel like it.
That's about all I've got for now. Hope that wasn't too long (I'm still learning this whole blogging thing)...
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