Summary of Freshman Year

January Jingles

Tomorrow

Tomorrow's coming
soon

Is five years a long time?

As a matter of fact, one could say that it was actually a decade; starting with the Tiny Tots swimming lessons.

Next I was signed up for actual lessons on technique, and eventually I joined a swim club where I trained for competition.

It was a blessing and a curse; swimming became something that I was actually good at. In fact, some months I was first in the entire region for my age and sex group, as well as my sister was for hers. Such glamorous amounts of winnings was a blessing. The other side of the coin was that awards were no longer so awarding.

I remember being ten years old, at an awards ceremony at which I had just gotten a literal bucket full of ribbons and medals. My sister and I then see this older girl getting a few lousy 6th place ribbons, with a gleaming facial expression. How could such a stark girl be joyful for such a low position? She wasn't particularly fast, but rather slow. So slow people tended to pass her several times over the course of practice.

And with such low expectations, she was happy with that orange sixth place ribbon. And with such overwhelming achievements, I didn't know where to put the mounds of ribbons I had no time to smile at individually.

Many ended in the trash. A waste of space was all they were.

The older I got the harder it was to be great. People get stronger at 13 and 14 years of age. But by then awards were still insignificant and worthless. It was fun being at the top, but being at the top for so long made me forget how it felt to get there.

So my sister in her Freshman year started swimming for our school swim team (go Barons! (we need to change that mascot)) and was still at the top; a key leg in the 4 by 100 relay. I followed suit when the boy's season began a month after the girl's.

The boy's swim coach was not too great, at least, in my mother's eyes. His e-mails were quite demanding with a touch of snobby attitude. The family daily schedule was hectic, to put it lightly. Whilst my sister was going to practice, I was coming come. Team parties clashed with club events, business meetings fell on top of swim meets. The stress was building up like snow.

And nothing was different this year. I was still the slowest on Varsity, the coach was still an ass, and the timings of events were still extremely inconvenient. The thing that really ticked off my mother - and my father, too – was the coach expecting us to be a "varsity swimmer first." Like we were to build our schedule around swimming.

The constant stress and hatred for the coach did not really help our mother-son relationship, as she was always in a bad mood. Which I get, but I wasn't the one sending overly nagging emails.

My mother and I have never really been living harmoniously. Ever since we first saw each other 13 years ago I was a nuisance. I didn't want to leave my foster parents, you see, and I began vomiting all over. All throughout my childhood have I been a nuisance. My parents received incessant callings and emails from the school about my behavior, while my file began to overfill to bursting.

Therefore it is quite clear how one could tie any family stress with me. I was the epitome of it; the master, the inventor of domestic anxiety. I tend to be rather clumsy and imprudent, which allows for many, many, many mistakes.

Over the last few months we've been on calm terms. Of course, there is the occasional outbreak, but things seem to be fine. It's not good, but at least the house isn't burning.