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Battle scars; an Essay by Kevin

posted 2/27/2010 8:55:26 PM |
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  KayJay19

(I know it'll be impossible for you all to relate to this, but I honestly couldn't give less of a shit.)


My body can tell many tales, this is but one of them.


These streets are just like a children's playground to me and others like myself. Days often go by where we find ouselvs lost in the innards of the smokey city, searching for golden oppotunities to have our faces shown, our voices heard. Many of use could be classified as bums, losers, pathetic wastes and other harmfull things along those lines. We try as we might to disregard these ravages of hate and bile, only to find ouselfs to be just like them. We hate, we express. Are the two really all that different? It depends, my friend.

I am a soldier of the pavement. My board and strength is my rifle and my fear and doubt is my enemy. This is a war that will never be won until either side is destroyed. And still I stand. Still I stand as a crusader, a mercenary on a personal quest to fine not only myself but the true face of the world around me.

Now, this may all seem somewhat confusing, how am I connected to all of this? All of these fancy words and literary devices, what's the purpose? Please, just bare with me and you will be enlightened.

Every session, is a battle. One that is not just physically, but also mentally gruling and exhausting. You see oppotunity in all of your surroundings, and plan your battle methods upon that. Obsticals, ramps, rails, drops, inclines, all must be taken into account when preparing your stratagy. Just like any soldier, you must also have a plan for worst case scenario. What if I fail? What if it all goes wrong? You have to force all of these mental distracions to leave and never return. Shut your eyes, listen to the city, feel what you wish to accomplish and make it a reality.

I, however, am not as lucky as most others found in this sittuation. I am full of distractions, inconfidence and self hatred. When I try to shut my eyes, I hear no city, I feel no sense of serentity. I hear my own concious doubting my abilitiess. I hear my father's ignorance and my mothers irritating materialistic values. Yet despit all this, I take the dive and begin my run.

Swerving to and fro, compleating trick after trick, using them as my resources of war. Manual guns. Kickflip artillery. Grind snipers. Shuv-it infantry. Heelflip air strikes. All necessary, all to my advantage on the battlefied. I can feel my forces growing in strength, and my enemy cower in fear. My confidence amplifyes and gives me focus. When suddenly, all focus is lost and gone. I've been shot.

Unsuccessfully shuffling my feet in order to regain composure, I trip over myself and await the inevitable imapct to the hot pavement below. While taking this decent, you only feel one thing; failure.

My chest slams to thr ground, causing a quake of insignificant magnitude. I can feel it; My skin slice, cut and drip blood. My bones impact and ach. All of this put together, creats one wound. Sometimes on your limbs or even your torso. Either way, the bullet sinks into you and causes you to scream and grit your teeth at the pure agony of defeat. All I can do is lie there and think "What went wrong?".

Later on, you I see my mistakes and give myself a mental thrashing for commiting such an error. Yet despit all of the anguish, all of the trauma and begining niggling doubt, I continue to fight this war. They think I am psychotic for making such a decision, but they do not understand. Why I fight this war in the first place. Why I'll fight and fight and fight, until I am victorious, or I die. And I am not dead yet.

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I always wondered...
Battle scars; an Essay by Kevin
Kevin and the MILF
Why Valentines Day is Stupid and Pointless.
Kevin's Nerdy Hour
100 Things That Make Me Happy
The Art of Speaking to a "Lady"
Well shit, welcome back stress!
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Comments:

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sugarnspice005

Feb 27 @ 9:53PM  
You are right, it is not something I can relate to. But, I will predict you will be victorious.
PinkToeNails

Feb 27 @ 10:00PM  
You will be in my thoughts Kevin
Wordsofwit

Feb 27 @ 10:22PM  
If you are attending a university, why is this street thing out of First 48 a reality for you?
KayJay19

Feb 27 @ 10:52PM  
If you are attending a university, why is this street thing out of First 48 a reality for you?
Well my friend, I don't know what First 48 exactly is, but I can tell you that I can't really call this a true reality for me. But rather a comparison of the daily actions of your average skateboarder. People offten think of us aa punks that will never amount to anything, but I am an exception. Every session is a battle. Not only with the street but with your own inner sense of self confidence in your abilities and strength. Weather I attend a university or sit at home smoking and drinking, a skater is a skater and we love what we do.
Wordsofwit

Feb 27 @ 11:23PM  
I obviously misconstrued what you were talking about...First 48
KayJay19

Feb 28 @ 12:09AM  
....Very well then. hahah
KitKat25

Feb 28 @ 2:45AM  
I thought you were describing skateboarding because of these paragraphs.

Swerving to and fro, compleating trick after trick, using them as my resources of war. Manual guns. Kickflip artillery. Grind snipers. Shuv-it infantry. Heelflip air strikes. All necessary, all to my advantage on the battlefied. I can feel my forces growing in strength, and my enemy cower in fear. My confidence amplifyes and gives me focus. When suddenly, all focus is lost and gone. I've been shot.

Unsuccessfully shuffling my feet in order to regain composure, I trip over myself and await the inevitable imapct to the hot pavement below. While taking this decent, you only feel one thing; failure.

My son was and still is into skateboarding. And you're right...a lot of people will and do write you off. It's not fair but it's the reality.

I like your writing a lot and I hope you continue to post in Pervia. Leaving you a greenie.
3zcumpany

Feb 28 @ 2:07PM  
Skateboarding is not a crime and should be looked at as a sport!

But as with all sports they have a proper place to be played. Skaters bring all the bad attention to themselves, they don't seem to realize that, as they do that "bad ass rail-slide" the truck of their board just scrapped off all the paint on the handrail.

In other words don't be a skater just cause that's the group you fit into. Push yourself to be the best skater you can. Find the local skate park and club. Compete in the sport that you feel so strongly for. Make a difference, for instance tony hawk and most of the jackass crew came to missoula designed and installed an amazing public skate park. There are hardly ever any complaints about skaters in town now. And the sport has increased to involve younger kids and older adults(as a "long board" makes for excellent "green" in-town transportation). So go out and change the way people look at your sport. I know people here are a lot more accepting of skating than in the past.
1bunny629

Feb 28 @ 8:25PM  
It all sounds like growing up to me. Whether your a skate boarder or one who expresses themselves in a more passive way. But,
(I know it'll be impossible for you all to relate to this, but I honestly couldn't give less of a shit.)
this comment shows you still have some work to do. No, you don't have to give a shit about what others think or how they relate, but you will learn that using such statements make you appear angry and frustrated and that is not how you want to represent yourself. Be spirited, work to be the best, but kick the chip on your shoulder.

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Battle scars; an Essay by Kevin