falling in love is like learning to drive.

at first, you stop too often,


and look

left and right 

left and right 

left and right

before easing your way into

the intersection.

you make your first turn;

you drive past another car


you learn how to

drive on your side of the road,

learn the


of your lane.

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before you know it,

before it hits you,

you’re picking up speed,

forgetting to turn on your signals.

you start to yield less at night,

but hey,

you haven’t hit anyone yet.

now, you have your permit,


your first car.

freeways are nice to speed on

because you like the feeling

of the wind


across your face.

you feel your heart


when you run through your first red.

you drive on,

for years and years

without a crash.

you never stop to



why should you?

it’s only to the store.

i’ve been there so often.

nothing will happen to me.


you forget about the


little stop sign

after that one turn.




you’re done.

no more DMV waits

for those

gosh darn renewals.

you wake up

in a hospital

with bleary eyes and

a broken body.

next time,

if there is one,

make sure to


before you

crash and burn.

remember to love fast,

but stay safe, kid.


Grief After Tragedy

On Sunday night, a lone gunman killed 58 people and injured 515 more, during the Route 91 Harvest Music Festival. I woke up Monday morning, checked my Snapchat stories, and saw the news of this story on every major website. In English class, we talked about the shooting, as it related to our weekend reading of Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery.

A husband and wife were enjoying the country music festival, when they heard gunshots from up above. The husband got shot in the back while protecting his wife, as they ran out of the concert. His life’s work as a nurse culminates, as he saves one more life: his wife’s.

That story isn’t made up, a fabrication put in this post to add even more tragedy to the United States’ deadliest shooting to date. That is the story of Sonny Melton, a West Tennessean. His wife, Doctor Heather Melton, has spoken out about her husband’s final moments in a heartbreaking testimony.

“He saved my life,” she told WSMV, a CNN affiliate. “I want everyone to know what a kindhearted, loving man he was, but at this point, I can barely breathe.”

This breathlessness can be felt in every victim’s family as they find out about the massacre from articles, workplace conversations, or a lack of a call back. Just like how one finds out about their dad’s car crash from the police knocking at their door at 3 am. Just like I found out about my mother’s death when I woke up on Labor Day six years ago from my uncle, who had to brave a face of me, even though he just found out his sister died.

Whenever a massacre happens, I feel that initial stab in the heart for the 58 families who won’t get to celebrate another birthday, will never get another phone call, or will never see their loved one again. I feel for the 58 funerals filled with tearful eulogies and scratchy black dresses.

I feel for the daughter who has to finish her math homework with dry eyes, as she’s told to “move on with her life.” I feel for the wife who has to go to work, while she budgets for how her husband can have an open casket with a bullet hole through his left eye. I feel for the weeks of articles pinning this shooting on ISIS or a bad father, when all the families want is to bury their loved ones in peace.

Whenever we talk about death, we ignore grief and sadness. As a society, we focus on moving on and waiting for the next tragedy. I hope that those in Las Vegas take the time to mourn and that this time it sparks conversation about gun control or mental health. I hope that no more people have to die to learn how to fix our mistakes, but until then, I hope whoever reads this knows that it is okay to feel bad, to mourn.

Defeated Again

Once I again I walked off of another teams field not feeling the great feeling of victory

This past weekend the team traveled up to Los Olivos, CA to compete against the Dunn Earwigs on their parents weekend, just as we did last year.

We went into the game with high hopes, and a new play series that we had worked on all week.

We arrived at the school, and right of the bat the day was not going as planned.

Somehow the ball bag was left back at school, some 2 hours away.

We did not have our own game balls, or our own kicking tee.

We put that aside and made do, and went into our pre game routine of bananas, pretzels, and stretching.

Our Defensive Coordinator John Wickenhaeuser had dome some research that bananas and pretzels before a game does the body good if that comment seemed a little odd.

During our warm ups that same nauseous feeling returned, and I was once again off my game.

I even tried to take medicine to make this feeling go away, but it is clear that it is nerves, and I just need to be hit a few times so that I don’t think about it as much.

When the game started Dunn quickly scored their first touchdown, and we weren’t too worried, that happens in the game of football.

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Fight through Pain-It hurts to write this one, guys!

I mean that completely literally, by the way. Last night, we traveled to Maricopa to play a football game. We knew from the beginning that this one was going to be a battle.

This is probably the understatement of the century.

We worked hard and just couldn’t make anything happen on either side of the ball. We started strong, and finished strong. But somewhere in the middle, we lost ourselves a little bit.

We didn’t lose our drive and our determination. We were confused and in pain. A lot of what happened last night was very controversial, especially to the spectators, who had a pretty good view of the carnage that was being left on the field.

I want to thank the spectators that came out to support and cheer us on. I speak for the whole team when I say we could never show how much we appreciate the shouts and yells from the sidelines. Trust me, we hear you.

The reason this post hurts is actually completely physical pain. I’m still a little shaken in the head from taking as many hits as I did. Also, I have a very swollen hand that is making typing very impossible. I am also sitting in a position that keeps the computer close to my body, as I cannot fully extend my left arm.

None of that matters, however.

Pain heals itself.

We will get back to work this week and keep on going.

Enjoy this picture of men running into each other.

For those wondering who that is, yes it’s Brian Dawkins hitting Alge Crumpler :).


Honestly, (ha), I don’t understand some people’s logic/morals anymore.

It’s as if honesty is not even a common thing anymore.

There are lies as simple as “that was my last piece of gum”, and then there are much, much more complicated lies.

I know that sometimes, a little white lie is necessary and harmless. But, where is that line between little lies and big lies?

I believe that people have forgotten that honesty is EASY. I mean, it really is.

And, being honest more often seems to lead to less mishaps in the first place that may seem to require lies later on.

I know everyone who has ever walked this earth has most likely been hurt by a lie that didn’t need to be told.

Honesty is the most important quality in a person, in my opinion. So, as of today, I am making a promise with myself to be honest about anything to anyone.

People need to realize this, and do the same… They really do.