My roommate and I are hanging out in our room at school, and we just had a thought. (Note: We do not do cocaine and never have. We were merely talking about cocaine) If you are doing cocaine, you have to be really careful not to sneeze. Think about the people who might be with you. If you blow away 6 lines, you're are probably gonna have a few guns in your face. So be careful...

D

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*I had a thought in class. I was too lazy to raise my hand, so I decided to write about it. Imagine me raising my hand right now.*

In one of my classes this week, we were discussing racial socialization in the context of sports. Although I normally space out during class and surf the internet (B actually texted me about the blog during class), I started paying attention when I heard the phrase “affirmative action.” To add some background, my class consists mostly of varsity athletes (obviously, I am an exception) of which many are black. Conversations about race consistently teeter between the black and white students in the class, with any racial sensitive issues stopping just short of outright conflict (I give credit to the teacher for managing to keep us from fighting). Today’s conversation finished with anecdotes about how parents deal with issues of race when raising their kids (A black student commented that white families do not introduce “whiteness” to their kids, while black families regularly address “blackness” with their kids. I responded that while this seems true, white families do not ignore identity. Rather, white families may introduce heritage or religion in place of race). The logical next step was the typical discussion about how cultural attitudes towards race impact the availability of resources and the opportunities of minorities to take advantage of those resources. The resource under consideration was education (it was a college class after all).

Like anything else, education is a resource. Resources can be undervalued, overvalued, or valued jusssssst right. Entrepreneurs make money by taking advantage of resources that are being undervalued. For example, the tech boom in the late 90s was the result of brilliant people taking advantage of the underutilization of internet. Unfortunately, as more people attempt to jump on the pile (and the resource becomes valued appropriately), profitability declines. Education is not immune to these market forces. In the last 200 years, education has gone from an entitlement of the elite (only the very elite had access) to a privilege that all Americans should be entitled to. What used to be extremely undervalued (in the sense that it was completely inaccessible to most people) has become at minimum valued appropriately and possibly far overvalued. As more and more people have access to education, its value decreases. While high school used to be the minimum expected education for most professional jobs, undergraduate education has taken its place. The uniqueness of undergraduate education has moved to graduate education.

The short story is that too many people are going to college. Although this is an extremely simplified characterization, its underlying truth is apparent. There are not enough jobs in this country to support the yearly college graduates. Not everybody is meant to go to college. I don’t mean to say that any specific group should not go to college. What I am saying is that we are pushing people to go to college for whom it is not in their best interest to do so. A flourishing economy requires jobs to be performed that do not require a college education. The types of jobs that illegal immigrants are admonished for taking are the types of jobs that Americans performed before the recent emphasis on receiving a college education. The college push has made graduates overqualified for most manufacturing and basic service sector jobs. Structurally, there are not enough service sector jobs for all of our college graduates. Therefore, the overemphasis on going to college has had 2 primary effects: devaluing undergraduate degrees (the supply of graduates is too large) and pushing basic jobs to cheaper labor (college graduates demand high salaries).

None of what I have written is new or particularly brilliant. However, I believe the overemphasis of education is related to racial attitudes in this country. Similar to how the Earth responds to overpopulation and over consumption of resources by having droughts and natural disasters, perhaps society has responded to the oversaturation of education by fighting back against programs such as affirmative action. Perhaps the natural mechanism for adjusting to changes in the value of resources is working against African Americans. The current education climate will not allow AA’s to easily level the playing field. There are just too many people going to college. Before African Americans can achieve level footing, white people need to stop going to college- Not all of them mind you, just some.

I don’t know why I wrote this.

D

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Alright! This is TK for a change and today I make my blogger debut with...

The Blackout...

Before getting started, I want to point out that this story has nothing to do with getting wasted. This is about an electrical blackout that happened a few months back and ended with one of the most surprising discoveries of my life. That in itself is a statement because not much really surprises me anymore but I guess that’s what happens when you come to expect the worst at all times. Although, there's really nothing all that bad about what I would eventually discover... I'm not going to tell you now... read on!

I was home for the night, bored as hell, watching something on TV that’s not even worth mentioning when suddenly the house went completely dark. I muttered my usual line of obscenities whenever this happens and grabbed my cell phone, using it as flashlight as I tried not to trip and kill myself on the cat while my dad searched the house for flashlights and candles. I looked out the front window, noticing that the power had gone out in what seemed like my entire neighborhood. I checked the back windows next and saw that I was wrong because everyone that lives behind me still had power, lucky bastards!

Usually these kinds of things only last for a minute or two before the power comes back on but that didn’t happen this time. For nearly two hours I sat with my guitar in my lap as a candle flickered across from me. By the time the first hour was up I began to think that something had gone seriously wrong like the zombie apocalypse had started or Cthulhu had risen once again. Again, thinking of the worst possible shit so no one else has to. Believe me, Godzilla won’t even fuck with Cthulhu! Hardcore digression! It was during this time that my mom came home from work and my parents disappeared upstairs for a long time as they usually do. Thinking nothing of it, I continued to play guitar by candlelight.

Eventually, they returned and here’s how you know when you’re really REALLY bored. When you actually decide to go have a chat with your parents for absolutely no reason! We talked about nothing but that didn’t bother anyone because what the hell else were we going to do? It's like living in a cave! All of a sudden, the three of us hear the sound of running water coming from upstairs. I turned to my dad and said, “Sounds like it’s coming from one of the upstairs bathrooms.” My dad, however, seemed more confused than he normally does as he stared at the ceiling above. “Hang on, it’s coming from one of the bathrooms,” he exclaimed as I was already making my way up the stairs. I know, didn’t I say that? He noticed where I was going and quickly started to follow me up the steps, kinda like he was chasing me or something.

I make it to the top and notice right off the bat that the sound isn’t coming from my bathroom. “It’s coming from your bathroom,” I said to my dad as I walked down the hall towards their room with a flashlight guiding my way. Again, my dad tried to intercept me but his attempt was foiled as I quickly rounded the corner into their bedroom. What the hell was he so nervous about? I made my way through their bedroom, still ahead of my dad, as I reached the bathroom door which was closed. “Wait,” my dad said with desperation as I reached out and gently pushed the door open only to be greeted by a wall of smoke and an all too familiar smell!

The flashlight beam cut through the cloud of smoke as I walked into the bathroom, the smell was undeniable! Definitely not tobacco or cigarette smoke but a certain green gift from the gods! Holy crap, my parents still smoke pot! Caught completely off guard by this unexpected discovery I found it hard to say anything at all as my dad walked into the bathroom. I looked up and noticed that their shower head was dripping with water, the sound which had aroused our suspicions in the first place. Maybe it was some kind of sign? I looked back and forth at my dad and the shower head before saying, “It’s the shower head,” as I did a quick 180 and got the hell out of there. All contact was avoided for the rest of the night until the power finally came back on.

No mention of that night was made until a few days later. I was eating dinner with my parents when the silence at the table became less than comfortable. A smirk came across my face as I laid my fork down and looked up at the both of them. “Remember the other night when the power went out? Well, I think a fuse might have been blown because I thought I smelled smoke upstairs,” I said as I eagerly awaited their response. It was better than I could’ve imagined! They looked up at each other from across the table and a long pause ensued. Needless to say, the subject was quickly changed! I had taken the uncomfortable silence and made it even more uncomfortable! My work here is done!

That was fun... time for a milkshake!

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1) No Politics
2) No Religion
3) No spitting..... (directly instated due to T)
4) No vomiting..... (I've mentioned this before, A has a problem. lol)
5) No Guns... (But machetes are alright.)
6) No crying.... (No one has actually cried in the garage yet. We'd like to keep it that way.)
7) No Bro Ice-ing.....(Except for A)
8) No judging the Dezert Championship sober.

These rules are subject to change at anytime, and we reserve the right to add more if necessary.

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Hello all! B here,

Last night D, TK, and I were all discussing a certain event that tends to happen in the group... Which is J's tendency to get hit in the balls. The topic came up when we were dicussing the time we went to Atlantic City, and C hit J during one of their fighting sessions (which is just them messing around, until someone interjects, or one of them ends up hurt). So we voted that J should have a redemption shot. What does this have to do with the future generation? Well we have devised a plan, an evil plan...

Someday, when J and C have their own kids, D came up with the idea that we are going to pull aside the oldest son of C, and assign him a mission. His top secret mission is while he is growing up, he has to continue the tradition of hitting J's oldest son where it counts. Meanwhile, we are going to pull aside J's oldest son, and apply him to the same secret mission. Neither of these boys can know that they have been assigned the same mission.

We have also devised rules for their mission. I suggested that they needed to have a cut off point for this assignment. So we will tell little C and little J that they can end this feud when they are thirty, because that's about the time that you have to grow up and be an adult. Then we have to make sure they continue the tradition, so when C and J's oldest son's have their own kids, they must assign their two oldest sons to the same task.

Our ultimate goal? One day when the world ends, there will be a little C and a little J still hitting each other in the balls... It's horrible, we know, but you've got to admit that it's a little funny.

Peace & cigarettes,
B

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Hello all! B here,

So we have made some changes to the page. Tiny changes, but changes. A few of the boys have signed on as contributors, so hopefully more posts get done... However, we're all kind of fucking lazy. So we shall see how that goes. The one funny thing about sharing the blog now, is that these few boys can see all the notes that I leave for myself. I tend to put things on the back-burner, so I need to write notes about the stories I need to write. It's self-motivation. Don't you judge me. Also, we've... and by we've, I mean me... have added a new sidebar to the blog. Once a month I will post a random flashback photo for your entertainment. Because we tend to do a lot of ridiculous shit, and someone needs to laugh at it. Anyway, the title to this blog is what I need to write about.

Since starting the twitter/blog last fall, I've grown accustom to using initials, and not actual names. Whenever I regale stories to friends and family... and even while texting... I end up calling the boys by their initials and not their actual names. At first, I noticed nothing, maybe I was subconsciously doing it out of convenience. I didn't realize that I had started this habit. That is, until months later, when I caught myself. I can't remember the exact situation, all I know is, I was trying to get C's attention, and instead of saying is name, I referred to him as the letter C..... And he responded. Did not see that one coming. At first no one picked up on it, until a few nights later when I started referring to T as only the letter T. I know, this is really freaking confusing. I don't think it's healthy that I am replacing my friend's names with letters. My subconscious is out of control or something, but I have become self-aware.

I'm gonna get myself into a 12 step program. Cure myself of this habit, one day at a time... If only I could use this determination to cut back on smoking, or not procrastinate writing my midterm essay that is due at midnight.... Maybe I should go work on that. Before I do, Happy late St. Patty's Day....

We had a great time. As for the people who were present... In this picture, we have me "B", T (who just cut off all of his beautiful pirate hair), and J....Yeah.... Then we have....

...A, who was trying to block my face out in the picture, but just ended up looking like this.... It ok, it's how he usually looks. Arms flailing. He likes to express himself with hand gestures... That's what made him such a great tap dancer. Flailing arms, that's the tap dancing secret. We also had....

 A special guest appearance from DM. Who proceeded to down 8 drinks/shots in an hour. A round of applause please... And now, because I seriously need to go work on that paper, we have a group shot...

We have C in the bright green shirt. A in the back, falling over because he attempted jumping on top of me and T, by the way he failed.Then there's J, who has no idea what's going on, and finally R and TK. Who were the only people who were prepared for this picture. So now you kind of know us... We do indeed walk around with black blocks in front of our faces. 

Goodnight. 

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So before I started the myjerseyboys twitter, I started writing down the boys quotes in my notebook app on my iPhone. The only problem with that is sometimes the quotes are too long for twitter. Then there are the times I can't function, so I just write abbreviations in hopes that I can remember them later... The only problem is that I usually can't.

Well, here they are... The quotes and abbreviations for your enjoyment and confusion...

T: Kill exes and removes ovaries

TK: I hope Best Buy has Motorhead tomorrow. B: What will you do if the don't? TK: I just might have to burn the place down. B: Cause that's a logical response.

TK: J and I both agreed that that's when we got the lump in our throats, and it slowly went back down. It will prolly manifest into a tumor someday. B: All because you wouldn't cry during Toy Story 3

J and C: Darth Vader cocaine addiction.

B: Dude drove past two cops, almost took a bat out with my car, and thought a tree next to a sign was a monster. Every single on of these things was a reminder that I should not be driving.

TK: I want a deer to come running up. That would be awesome, just jump out and chase it... Man, it's a good thing I didn't drive.... Later.... B: Well there's your deer, and they are fighting so that's a double win.

R and J: Periwinkle and elf's

T and B: knifes and cigarettes

DM to A: is your name B

D: This is meticulous, B. C: This is a sickness. D: You have to stop and write down everything we say? This is great for us, sucks for you.

T turns us into Captain America or Frankenstein.

B: Mine is the pack with a lucky in it. C: I don't call it a lucky? B: What do you call it? C: An after sex cigarette. B: Well that doesn't happen for me too often... Sooo... It's a lucky.

B: I need to make more female friends. Cause otherwise when I get older I'm not going to have any potential bridesmaids. TK: You can ask T. He'd dress up like a girl for free drinks.

TK smoking room with lava lamps, Christmas lights, Nintendo 64, and Sega Genesis.

B: You guys have to come see me on Black Friday. If you don't come, you better have a shit ton of alcohol, and figure out a designated driver for me. Cause I'm gonna get shitfaced.

J: I learned "Party in the USA" on guitar. Now it's time to learn the lyrics and make it metal. B: Wait... Like Miley Cyrus "Party in the USA" J: Yes. I heard it on the radio. The opening guitar is so catchy... I kind of hate myself now.

B: Bond is a whore. He's already been with 3 different girls. TK: Yeah and we haven't even seen Denise Richards yet. B: How does he not have an STD? Bond has AIDS. That's how he dies.

J: My old roommate was convinced that I looked like Aladdin. B: Oh my god! You totally do! You know what would be really funny? Have you C dress like the genie! J: And have R be Abu! B: Make him wear a leash! Gotta make sure he doesn't run away. C: I would be down for that. TK could be the carpet. Who would be Jafar? J: T, and CS could be the king. With his beard?

J: A Star Wars slot! That's how they get you. B: Dude, you just won on that other slot machine. Are you sure you want to test your luck? J: I'm okay with losing five dollars... (Few minutes later) Holy shit! I just won! Give it here C3po, you bitch! B: You have got to be kidding me...

B: The hookah bars in Denver play club music. J: You're trying to smoke. That's way too intense. B: Yeah, then there are girls dancing on tables and shit. J: That sounds like a Chinese opium room.

Group discussion: In our future house were are going to have a deck and a safety net underneath it. So we can throw douche bags off the balcony. Also... We want two chandeliers and a fountain. Because that's how you know that you made it.

C: Right. I'm an idiot. B: Awesome, I finally have you saying that in writing. C: I'm just an idiot who is always right. B: You just had to ruin it. C: I just had to make things right.

B: I can always tell when it's gonna rain. My hair always puffs up and gets frizzy. I'll be like, "Why's my hair so angry!" Then two minutes later someone comes by and says, "It's raining!"

TK: So there's this guy named Mr. Rogers, and apparently he charged this car like night of the living dead shit. B: Wait... Mr. Rogers is dead... So he was a Zombie Mr. Rogers. That makes sense that he was running like that.

J: Secret societies

TK: Riding a gorilla sleigh

B: We should start a petition. TK: Yeah! I would love to start a petition to get a soundtrack and have everyone talk about how awesome the music in Machete is.

B: Ewoks as guard dogs.

A: So when I was on my cruise, I was bored so I watched a movie... I watched Twilight.... And let me tell you, Edward is a freakin douche bag. And Jacob? He's just creepy. A really creepy 16 year old.... Wait... B, aren't you wearing the same bracelet as Bella? B: What?... NO! This is just weird.

TK: Oh man, you're rocking the Bella look? B: Apparently. When I went down to Smithville for Halloween, to hang out with my family, one of my sister's friends asked me if I was dressed up as Bella... I didn't dress up.

(While at a restaurant) T: Hey, it's his birthday! Waitress: Oh really?! Well, Happy Birthday! I;ll go get everyone to come sing to you! D: It's not my birthday! Really! Waitress: Ha! Sure it's not. D: No really, my birthday is in March! Waitress: Well, Merry Christmas then! B: *whispers* He's Jewish. Waitress: Well Merry Christmas anyways! J: Why does she keep saying Merry Christmas? (End of the story: She brought D a piece of cake that he didn't ask for, and charged him for it. B on the other had, ordered pie and didn't get charged for it. B offered to trade bills with D, which they did.)

T: I've done many things in the name of science. I once killed a bag of kittens so we could study them. B: OH MY GOD! How could you kill a bag of kittens?! T: I drowned them. B: T!!!! T: What? I couldn't poison them! That would defeat the purpose. B: *looks around the car* I can't tell if he's kidding or not.

T: Get out of here Mario with your apples! J: That's a fireball. T: How can that be a fireball? It looks like an apple!... J: Ah! Just get out of here! I want to throw apples!

A: Do you want to play Supersmash? B: Nah, I'd last five seconds... I used to last longer cause I would run away, but then somebody *A exaggeratedly points at J* decided that that wasn't happening anymore.

B: Yes! I'm in second. J: You still lost. B: Yes, but I'm still in second. J: No. You lost. B: Well, at least I didn't get 4th, that's an epic fail! A: Thanks a lot B.

J: Jinx. C: Damn it. J: You can't talk. B: Until you buy him a coke. C: *gestures to the deck and lack of soda machines... Points to Guinness* B: Nope, has to be a coke. J: Man I can't even remember how to undo a jinx. C: *holds up three fingers* J: Three things? C: *Points to himself* J: I have to say your name? Three times in a row? C: *nods* J: I don't think I can do that. It sounds too much like scolding.

B: Why does your Dad hate me? I didn't force you to help me move?! C: I donno! I thought he was over it. B: Man I'm just gonna fucking jet outta here. Your Dad will be like, what the hell was that blur? It looked like brown bushy hair? Man, I think we have ghosts.

B: There's a lady with my car and a dream catcher! That's not ok! C: Why? B: Cause I can be the only one with my car and a dream catcher! That's it!... We have to go back and kill her! C: Okay, after the Frisbee game. It's the last one of the year. B: Ugh, fine.

C: You like Cherry Garcia? You know who is the only other person I know who likes that? My dad. B: Win! He can't hate a person who loves Cherry Garcia!

J: What are you doing back there?! B: I dropped my keys! J: Why? B: Because I'm a girl. J: So what? B: Well they hurt, and they poke you. J: Why do they poke you? B: I donno, they just do. J: Why? B: Damn it, J! Don't ask me why again! ... J:... Why?

B: So I went on The Dark Knight: The Ride, and it sucked. It was another Skull Mountain all over again. The only good part was the movie at the beginning with Harvey Dent. TK: Was it Two-face? Or Harvey Dent. B: Harvey Dent, then the news feed was interrupted by the Joker. J: The Heath Ledger Joker? B: Well, it's his voice but you don't see him. He draws a smiley face on the screen. J: So the joker is coming for you and you have to escape by roller coaster? B: Well, it was supposed to be a subway, but- J: Quick the Joker is coming! The only way to escape is by roller coaster! It's the fastest way!

B: A, I need to talk to you about something serious. A: Okay.... What's up? B: There are munchkins under my bed, and they're really angry at the evil monkey in my closet, because he's making too much noise cause he's angry at the pink hippo for being a bitch to my friend, who's being a bitch for not letting me do anything fun. A: Are you on something?! B: Yeah, I had to go to the ER, they put me on some shit. Don't worry about that! Worry about the angry munchkins under my bed!

Alright.... That is all for now. My iPhone is already happier that it doesn't have so much shit on it.

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Greatest tap dance on a set of plastic storage lids ever....

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Kroller Chronicles Part IV: Kroller OD’s on Mayo Part II

Everything I have written so far about Kroller has been based on firsthand information. I was directly involved with or close to all the events, so I can vouch for their authenticity. However, the final and worst detail of the story was relayed to us by a 3^rd party. I am not going to name the person (or even refer to the pseudonym I’ve given him), but I will say that the source was formerly betrayed by Kroller (although I would have kept my mouth shut, I don’t fully blame him for blabbing). Regardless, I did not want to write this story (out of the anguish it causes me), but B demanded* that I push through.

*Demanded = Reminded me that this was the funniest part of the story.

I don’t really know when this happened, only that it must have occurred near the end of high school (chronologically it comes after the concert fiascos). According to the source, Kroller would examine Mayo’s garbage to see when the best time was to ask her out again. If that wasn’t clear or sketchy enough, Kroller was checking her period cycles so that he could time his overtures appropriately. I don’t know how Kroller attempted his search (the details are pretty hazy- if B or anybody else remembers, please help me here), but I imagine it was dirty… and pathetic.

Kroller is an infamous figure in our group. Although we used to be friends with him, none of us contact him anymore. I feel bad for Kroller sometimes. He did some stupid things, and has been humiliated appropriately. In high school, he was a hardcore Democrat, openly renouncing President Bush. Since we’ve gone off to college, he has become a fervent conservative.Although this transition is not enough to justify criticizing Kroller, it is simply an example of his behavior (perhaps it’s just that we don’t talk about politics). On the other hand, he has earned a lot of our animosity. I used to work closely with him on our show, but he did enough to burn bridges with all of us. 

Sorry Kroller.

-D

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Kroller Chronicles Part III: Kroller OD’s on Mayo


J, C,G, and I became less friendly with Kroller later in high school. Tensions on the show manifested into personal differences that resulted in none of us talking to him since we graduated. Kroller became the target of our mockery. We thought he had become a pathetic joke: taking our TV show wayyyyyyy too seriously, making a fool of himself in general*, and the Mayo story. The Mayo story is why B asked me to write this. The Mayo story is one our favorites stories. At the same time, it is also sad, pathetic, and perverted.

*He wrote a screenplay, possibly the worst ever written. It was about a spy who chases a rogue agent through Manhattan to the airport. The plot involves boring dialogue and awkward exchanges. We enjoyed acting out the script during lunch (we added new dialogue and commentary to the original work).

Mayo is a girl who lived next door to Kroller. She was tall and blond but not particularly attractive. Mayo was a nice enough girl, but she probably was not worth all the effort that Kroller put in. His crush on her is the root of many of Kroller biggest blunders. In our second year working on BP, Kroller tried to give Mayo a role on our show by replacing G (news update anchor) with Mayo. This is one example of many of Kroller selling out one of our friends for his own benefit (the benefit turns out to be very small in this case). Mayo was terrible. She could not read off the prompter clearly. She flipped her hair repeatedly during recordings so that we could not see her face or hear what she was saying. The crew was not particularly happy about having to put up with her just because Kroller wanted her on the show.

Our junior year, Kroller tried to ask Mayo to our junior prom. This is the first time of many that Mayo shut Kroller down. Mayo told Kroller that she already had a date and could not go with Kroller. Meanwhile, Mayo was sending messages to all of her friends begging them to find her a date. Eventually, Kroller discovered Mayo’s deception; however, his enthusiasm could not be denied and chose to try again in the summer.

A few months later, he invited her to a Bon Jovi concert for his birthday. He was planning to use the time together to ask her out. Unfortunately, he made the mistake of asking her on the train ride TO the concert rather than on the trade ride home FROM the concert. Mayo rejected Kroller, so he was forced to deal with the awkwardness of being rejected for the entire night. You would think Kroller would have learned his lesson, but he tried a similar tactic with Mayo at a Billy Joel concert. He learned enough to ask her on the ride home. Once again, Mayo said no. I have always wondered why Mayo agreed to go to the second concert with Kroller. Maybe she really wanted to be friends with him and was hoping that he would just drop it. Maybe she felt bad for him and was humoring him. Maybe she just really wanted free tickets to concerts. Regardless, Kroller was now 0-3. Fortunately for us, Kroller demanded a fourth strike before striking out.

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(A note from B: I am going to go ahead and warn you, that this isn’t exactly a happy story. It’s not going to be like any of our previous blogs, where we joke about the people we know, or the situations we find ourselves in. This blog is a little different. So if you don’t want to read this story, I completely understand. I will say this though; I think it has a happy ending.)

This story isn’t exactly an easy one for me to tell. Even as I’m writing this, I’m debating upon whether or not I should, but I feel like it's one that I need to tell. At least for my own sanity, even though I'm afraid of what everyone else will think. But with my birthday being last Sunday, this story has been weighing on my mind heavily. Part of me thinks that maybe if I write about it, it won’t be so hard anymore, and I can say some of the things that I’m not really good at saying out loud. This story is about why I moved to Jersey (the first time), and eventually how I met the boys.

When I was seventeen, I was living in Salt Lake City with my mom, her husband, and my half-sister. Things between my mom and I were… tense to say the least. I spent most of my time working or involved with extra-curricular activities, because I didn’t want to go home. My mom had a problem, and that problem affected every aspect of my life. Except for a few close friends, and my boyfriend at the time, no one knew what was going on with my home life. I was, and have always been, a good kid. I never got into any trouble, I took mostly AP classes, and I worked hard in everything I did. The reason why I say this is so that when you hear this next part, you’ll try not to think of me as some punk ass kid. That I was some trouble maker or something. I was just a good kid in a bad situation.

A few days before my eighteenth birthday, I ran away from home. Things between me and my mom had become too much for me to handle. I won’t go into all the details, that doesn’t really matter anymore. The point is, I finally stood up for myself.

I spent the weekend at my best friend’s house. Her mom baked me chocolate chip cookies, and we hung out with her dad watching Band of Brothers and playing Call of Duty. My friend’s mom sat me down Sunday morning for pancakes, and to talk about my situation. At the end of it, she convinced me to try to talk to my Mom. To this day, I still hear her voice saying to me, “Thirty years from now she’ll still be your mother.”

I won’t go into all the details of what happened when my friend and I went back to my house. All you need to know is that it didn’t end well, and my friend called the cops trying to protect me. Two officers of the Draper police met us back at my friend’s house, we told them what happened, and they said, because I was still a minor and my mother had sole custody of me, I had to go back. There was a lot of dispute about this, not only from me, but my friend and her family, but we were unsuccessful with changing the officer’s mind.

They took me back to my mother’s house. One of the police officers was not so kind to me. He didn’t believe what we said happened, and told me I was, and I quote, “Just another spoiled rich kid, trying to escape responsibility.” Luckily, the other officer handling the case did take it seriously. He convinced my mom to call my dad, and let me go to Jersey to stay with him for a few days until things settled down.

Fast forward through the next 33 hours… By eleven o’clock p.m. on Monday, February 26th, I was through customs, and buying food so I could use the pay phone to call my friend. I told her I was alright, and that I was on the last flight to New Jersey. My plan was to go to my Dad’s for three days, then come home, find an apartment, and finish out my senior year. My friend wished me happy birthday, two minutes to midnight, and I got on the plane.

Usually when I tell this story, someone will ask me if I knew I wasn’t going to go back. I didn’t. My flight landed at six in the morning of my birthday, and my Dad made sure we were speeding down the parkway before he told me that that was a one way ticket. I wouldn’t be going back to Utah. At first, I went ballistic. I didn’t get to say goodbye to any of my friends, let alone my boyfriend. All my clothes, my car, my most precious possessions were back in Utah. I had left everything. That day was easily the worst day of my entire life. I’m crying just thinking about it, and I am NOT a cry-er. And don’t worry; it’s not like broken sobs and blubbering. No none of that nonsense. Just a few involuntary tears that I’ll wipe away and make fun of myself for later.

I had the choice of moving down to south Jersey with my Dad, or living with my Grandparents and Aunt in Holmdel. I, obviously, chose Holmdel. Not because I didn’t want to live with my Dad, I love my Dad. He’s amazing. But my dad, like me, isn’t in to the whole crying thing and being upset deal. I knew I needed someone who I could lean on and talk to, that’s why I chose to live with my Grand mom and Aunt. Plus, I basically spent all my time in Holmdel when I would visit. So it felt natural for me to be there. My family let me wait a few weeks before enrolling me at school. This was a good thing because I was kind of a mess. Besides dealing with what happened with my mom, I also broke up with my boyfriend. Who had his own problems at the time, with his parents getting divorced. He attempted suicide a week after we broke up, and for a long time I blamed myself.

This brings me to my first few months at Holmdel High School. I don’t remember very much of it to be honest. For the most part, it’s like those first weeks at school didn’t even happen. I was on auto-pilot just going through the motions. But when I think really hard about my first few months, the pieces I do remember are all ones where I was with the boys. Playing Frisbee after school, fighting with light sabers during lunch, going to some school hosted film festival, or hanging out in CS’s basement playing video games.

In fact, it was when I was with all the boys that I actually remember “waking up”. I use quotations because that’s what I call the moment that I was actually aware of what was going on around me. It was like I snapped out of whatever place I was in, and woke up to this whole new life I had built without even trying. It was the night of CS’s Cinco de Mayo party. I was laughing, surrounded by all these new friends, watching A tap dance on top of plastic storage lids (because we forced him to, but let's face it. We all know that A secretly likes to show off his tap dancing skills). It was at that moment that I realized how lucky I was. I had been given a second chance to live a normal life, where I could be happy all the time, have friends that cared about me, and finally be able to go home without being afraid of what would be waiting for me. I would go home to a family that loves me and supports me… and calls me out on my bullshit when needed.

To be honest, I owe everything to the boys. Because of them, I’ve been able to do and see so many amazing things. In all honesty, I kind of hero-worship them. In my mind, they’re the ones that saved me, even though they didn't know I needed saving. When I moved away eight months or so later, when ever I came back for a visit, it was like I never left. They taught me how to be truly happy and content with life. Most of them don’t know the story of how I came to live here the first time. Hell, up until a few months ago, not even my Grandparents and Aunt knew what really happened. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell them, but it’s never really come up. Besides, whenever we hang out we spend most of our time laughing, telling stories, or coming up with ridiculous shit, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, it’s because of what we do that I moved back in the first place. I’d rather be hanging out with my jersey boys, than be anywhere else.

And that, is my happy ending.

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