SHun

Aspiration

I had some of the traditional and realistic expectations of what I wanted to be when I grew up. My uncle was a police officer. That seems cool. He could've been my way in. My grandfather took me to the firing range as a kid. I was a pretty good shot. My I always said I'd be a great lawyer. I constantly argued with people about anything. I still do. And to this day I have to have the last word. Being a fireman was respectable career. We passed the station every time we went to Nana and Papa's. It's tough to say tell if it was fire or the big red trucks that aroused my interests. Probably both.
There were also some more grandiose fascinations that were far less realistic of course. Unrealistic or not, the presuming trauma dictated the ensuing years. The damage had already begun. There was nothing I could've done. There's nothing I can do it now. Being born and raised in a blue collar suburb of Boston, and into a family of self-proclaimed avid hometown fans. Also, and possibly justified, exceptional high school and neighborhood legends (Dad included). I love sports. Kind of.
More than the sports themselves though, I love my city. Definitely. What Bostonian wouldn't want to play for the Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, or Bruins? I mean forget however, I'm talking Fenway pie, Boston Gardens (not a typo, the original), Foxboro Stadium, and yeah maybe even July. Granted, doctors expected me to reach about 6 feet tall by my growth share in progress. Who would've guessed they'd be about 6 inches short (the better half too if we are being honest). I'm the one that came up short actually. And I've always been wicked insecure about that. That got along real swell with the rape and shit. They were good friends. They both fucked me. Get it! That's funny right? Anyway. This was before the days of the Wes Welker's, Dustin Pedroia's, and Jacoby Elsberry. Who gave hope to the underdogs who possessed hearts of liens. As far as my hockey career, skating was something I could never pick up. Although I played floor and street hockey, convincing the NHL to change its venue didn't seem like a viable option. See even when I'm unrealistic, I can still be realistic.
Then it was a professional racecar driver. Or motorcycle racer. I loved anything with wheels. Except skateboards. I fucking hate skateboards. And rollerblades. Well you know what I'm saying. From my first Power Wheels three wheeler where I would stand on the back of the seat and do pop wheelies. To sitting up on the top of my grandparents' driveway and flying down the slope path into the street, jumping the manhole and power sliding 180 degrees. Evil Knievel had nothing on me. To the smell of gas and burning rubber when I went to the racetrack. The speed, or of the engines, the smoke, the competition. It was all so hypnotic. Unfortunately, all this did was fuel my reckless and extremely stupid daily behaviors. I will say, I was pretty damn good though. I am pretty damn good though. If I only had the chance. The opportunity. If I never mixed the thing I love and the thing I love to hate. And to think, I've spent the last 8 of 10 years license-less.
Finally, on the grandiose scale was professional ninja. Or more realistically, a fighter. Although a ninja is impractical, it looked cool. I started studying martial arts at age 4 and competed for many years and my youth. Rocky Marciano and Sugar Ray Leonard at legends of my hometown. Mike Tyson was a real champion at the sport of boxing and MMA was nonexistent. I love the movie "The Fighter". I love Mark Wahlberg. I could've been the pride of Brockton. As I look back at my motivation for being a professional fighter, I want to believe it was not the blood or the infliction of pain that appealed to me. Although I have an explosive temper and definitely the potential to be combat of, my conscious aggression was usually not unwarranted. Likewise, for the times of showing restraint, it was for the safety of others because only I know how sick and twisted my visions are. Control. Beneath the chaos... lurks an eerie order (AW).
The most disturbing aspiration I had as a child is unfortunately the only one that became a reality. Even though I did not put any thought or validity, nor have an honest concept of to the words true definition at the time; it is a chillingly prophetic revelation, an imprint in my memory I can recall vividly, for the most part. As a matter of fact, it wasn't something I made the correlation to until recently when I sat back with a clear mind in an attempt to put some perspective on my life, again.
It occurred when I was six-ish. Everyone else was upstairs sleeping and I was sneaking shots from various bottles from behind Nana and Papa's bar. I had a pretty good buzz, and I liked it. I liked it a lot. This was not something I did often back then, but it didn't happen just one time either. Whether it was the liquor talking where the misconception of the word, it really doesn't matter. I told myself, "When I grow up, I want to be an alcoholic." Fuck me.
As I got older, some of my career aspirations changed. My grandfather was in the military. That seemed a bit more realistic, as a rational alternative to a ninja. Then there was the idea of being a boss. It didn't matter at what. I just pictured me having a secretary, or an assistant, whatever. Answering questions, making critical decisions, sitting in a boardroom at the head of the table. Profession, Boss: Company, Unknown. A mob boss or a drug lord soon follow. Money, power, respect. Is the key to life.
Aside from my career goals, my social ambitions were fairly standard. I always wanted to have a group of friends. A wife who was gorgeous and madly in love with me. Either two or three kids. Not all boys are not all girls, but a little of each. Baby's first words and steps, parent teacher conferences, coaching their sports teams, dance recitals, driving lessons, prom, grandkids. The American dream. The unusual part of this is that I wanted it all before I was 20. My parents had me at that age so that was what I thought was normal. Never mind the fact they were divorced a couple years later and my mother struggled working and going to school full-time to support us being a single parent. And my father was living 3000 miles away for the majority of my life, but not putting any blame on him as being a bad parent because he never has been I have a great father. But all that was normal to me. Because this was normal. How hard would it be to do it better? Nothing I couldn't handle. Which is funny because when I was 18, I didn't think I would turn 21. And when I turned 21, I didn't think I would turn 25. When I turned 25, I sure as fuck wasn't going to see 30 even if I had to do it myself. And I've been close many times to doing that. Half the time now I still am. And even through all this, I still wanted everything I mentioned right before that. The ensuing years would drive me to change my expectations more drastically than I could ever imagine. And in the years to come, I wouldn't be able to take care of myself. Half the time, I still can't.