nimrod chronicles [part 3]

i had my first drink of alcohol when i was 14. it was cognac, which now as a well-versed drinker, is a sickening thought. why i kept going after that i'll never know. i was curious. and like most humans, i found myself drawn to things forbidden. eventually drunkenness entered on new years eve of my sophomore year right before i turned 16. i can't remember what i had, but i do know we had to sneak it, which made it that much more thrilling. what's funny is new years day i had a basketball tournament at San Antonio Christian, but it didn't stop me. this wouldn't be the only time these two priorities would clash. i was invincible. or so i thought.

after that first taste of intoxication, i thought i'd found my calling in life. i started stealing liquor from my grandparents' house in plano and would bring it back to austin anytime we'd go visit. eventually all their bottles of liquor were watered down, thanks to my attempt at covering it up, and no good to me. so then i had an older, well-connected friend at school start hooking me up. either everclear or captain morgan was my poison of choice. everclear is 190 proof. you don't drink everclear unless you intend to get fucked up. i had a secure stash spot in the back of my closet [that is, until my mom found it that one time]. to say that alcohol changed me/affected who i was is an understatement.

without thinking twice, i parted ways with the "good" kids and joined forces with the "bad". every single thing that came out of my mouth was foul. even the kind of music i listened to changed. i gave my teachers attitude. i gave my parents attitude. i was friends with the kids who ran the show. hell, i ran the show. the chip on my shoulder was larger than life itself. right after i turned 16, there was a span of time where i would fix myself a drink [mountain dew and everclear] in the morning to down while i drove to school. i'd swim through the morning with a solid buzz. then i'd be grumpy around lunch time when it had worn off. after lunch i had mrs. watkins' 5th period english class that year. i would always fall asleep, and she would then make me stand for the duration of the class. if not hers, then i'd find another afternoon period i could sleep through. i'd drink a gatorade to rehydrate, then head off to play basketball for several hours. i kept attending wednesday night church because i'd go to spider house with friends afterwards so we could smoke cigarettes to cap off the day. i kept a bottle of febreeze in my car at all times to cover up any lingering smells. which came in handy at the end of sophomore year when spliff made its entrance.

i'll never forget the first time i got stoned. we'd been at a mixed party [good and bad kids] on a friday night, and, as per usual, me and my friends broke away. we went up to mount bonnell, where a blunt was properly assembled, then puff puff passed around the circle of life. it was like nothing i'd ever felt before. i was floating, wondering if anyone else could see me. i kept looking up at the stars, turning my head quickly from left to right. the picture would drag, and i was fascinated. when we walked to our cars, we walked by some cops who were eyeing us. so we held our breath, and each guy matched up with a girl so that we looked like couples that had been up there for the romantic view. close call. such a thrill. the next morning i had to leave my friend's house early to get to a softball tournament. i drove 15 minutes in the wrong direction before i realized that school was the other way. which leads me to another issue.

driving after drinking and/or smoking occurred quite often. it really was a miracle that 1) i never got pulled over and 2) i made it out of high school alive. it seems dramatic to say so, but it's scary when i really think about all the times i drove drunk or stoned. one night we'd been drinking at one guy's house, and we heard there was weed at this kid's house who was several years younger. so me and my two girl partners in crime went over there to smoke some of his weed, to which he of course obliged. his weed had these little red hairs in it. we thought it strange, but smoked it anyway. later when i was driving home with one of the girls, i kept seeing every light as red - traffic lights, street lights, head lights, etc. so i had trouble telling when a light was green. but as usual, we magically made it home. and woke up the next morning to go sing in church choir. there were many mornings i was still messed up and wreaking of alcohol whilst standing tall in the choir loft in my choir robe at the big baptist church at 8:30am. basically anytime during the weekend especially, unless it was before a basketball game, you could be sure i was on something. anything. i really enjoyed showing up to church functions stoned. i prized rebellion.

scrambled brains was the only thing on the agenda. and we were always successful. it was of utmost importance, more important than honesty, integrity, or being a good friend. i remember one time at a football game my junior year one of my friends, a "good" kid, confronted me teary-eyed about how i'd changed. i blew it off. it didn't matter to me. she didn't matter to me as much as my wonderful world of intoxication, which is a sad realization. and i even broke up with a guy i'd been dating because he didn't like me drinking. again, my priorities were simple at the time.

christmas break of my junior year, on december 30th, 1999, everything came to a screeching halt. long story short, i was at a friend's house with a small group of people. i snuck in some jack daniels, and ended up drinking most of it [straight from the bottle] on my own. i was so out of control that i woke up her parents, who then called my parents to come get me. i remember trying to apologize to my mom as they dragged me into the house, my big brothers watching. the next morning i woke up on my parents' bedroom floor and thought i was having a crazy nightmare. but i woke up to face my reality. i was busted. my parents made me sit down at the kitchen table to talk about it [with dad's big bible in tow] during which both of them cried. the worst part was they made me tell my basketball coach. so me and a friend went over to his house that day. we had a no tolerance policy, which our athletic director at the time stuck to like glue. they had no choice. so on january 3rd, my 17th birthday, after a meeting with coach roemer and coach mabe, i was officially kicked off the girls varsity basketball team. happy birthday to me. i chose to go before the team that day to apologize and give some sort of admonition for the district season they had to play without me, the team captain. it was a day i'll not soon forget. my whole world was turned upside down.

when we went back to school after christmas break, most people already knew what had happened. the private school i went to was pretty small, so anyone's business was everyone's business. at home, my precious pathfinder was taken away, and i was grounded for well over two months. at school, the bad kids wanted to sneak me out, and the good kids wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole. it was a miserable time for me. i hated every hour of every day. i felt as though i was under a microscope - parents, teachers, and coaches were watching my every move. i will never in this life forget the first home game i went to after being kicked off the team. i had my parents drop me off at the gym door [remember, no pathfinder] so that i could walk in alone. i walked into the gym, everyone in the entry way staring. naturally. someone was singing the national anthem, and this game they had decided to put the flag right in front of the door to the gym. so when i walked in, everyone was looking right at the door. it was perfectly horrifying, as was every single home game i had to watch from the stands.

i ended up responding in the way these people [brainwashing baptist adults] would want me to. no one told me i was ok no matter what, so i went on a jesus kick. but that lasted a whole 3 months, and i was back at it. only this time around i watched myself, covered my bases. i survived the rest of high school without much trouble, but this experience was scarring, to say the least. thankfully, they let me back on the basketball team senior year. starting in the off season, i frequently donned a hyde park basketball t-shirt with the number 35 on the back with the title "full season fenlaw". to this day, this nickname follows me in some circles. and i still sometimes sleep in the t-shirt as a little reminder. every time i'm in my parents' house in austin i feel like a 17 year old kid who's still in trouble. just the other night in austin i ran into the guy who taught me how to make a bong out of a water bottle. and you can be sure that every year at new years i remember it all like it was yesterday.

nimrod? i think so.

nimrod chronicles [part 2]

my priorities at the time were, as memory serves, in this order: basketball, intoxication, friends, school. really the first two were a conflicting tie, which i'll explain in due time. i feel as though i'm being self-indulgent. oh well.

jay, reid, and i all wore number 35 at hyde park. what can i say? we're a basketball family. we always joke that when all three of the fenlaw children were born, we were handed a basketball, slapped on the ass, and shipped directly to the doors of hyde park. my parents loved basketball, my brothers and i started playing before we could add, and for as long as i can remember, we had season tickets to UT basketball games.

summer before freshman year i would wake up at 5:30am to go the gym with my dad so that i could be in shape to make varsity basketball. when i was little i spent summers going to basketball camps. when i was in high school i started working at those camps. and actually, my coach for the last two years of high school was a guy i had worked with at said camps. i still to this day have never been as consistent and naturally motivated to do anything as i was with basketball in high school.

every time it rained, i'd be in the back yard shooting baskets pistol pete style. i'd stay after practice to shoot free throws, or i'd try to convince a teammate to stick around and play one on one. i'd carb load the night before a game and make sure i got 8 hours of sleep. i would abstain from drinking carbonation 24 hours before a game. one year i started taking ice baths every wednesday night to flush out my leg muscles mid-week. i had shin splints constantly, but figured out a routine of sports cream, tape jobs, and lots of ibuprofen that helped me get by. nothing could stand in my way. i never experienced a severe injury, but i'll never forget twisting my ankle pretty bad one time when we were playing our rival st. mike's at their house. i came out of the game, went to the end of the bench and had my trainer tape me up tight with mole skin. i was back in within 3 minutes of play time.

i ate up every second of every practice drill, line sprint, scrimmage, warm up routine, game, roadtrip - anything that had to do with basketball and the team. i loved road trips. because we were a private school, our district included schools in san antonio, san marcos, corpus, and waco. needless to say, we did lots of team bonding in 15 passenger vans. i was a team captain both junior and senior year. i was one of those vocal players - always talking up a storm on the court, either talking shit or trying to communicate with my teammates. every time i shot free throws, i had our cheerleaders do the same cheer [angel, angel on the rim, please let sarah put it in. put it in, put it in, put it in. whoo!]. i was in charge of our warm up music, but, thanks to donna mabe, my hp-approved options were fairly limited. we had our own real warm up music in the locker room, though, which consisted primarly of juvenile's back that ass up. it was all about the details. one year i even convinced our coach that we needed to get team shoes [which were hideous, in case you were wondering].

i wanted to play every second of every game. i wanted the team to win, and i wanted to be the best. i wasn't the best, but i suppose i put enough points on the board to get away with being cocky. one time we were playing incarnate word in corpus christy, and i was guarding this girl who called me a bitch. i went after her and was about to take a swing right when lindsey leaverton grabbed the back of my jersey and pulled me away. i used to love to stand back on the 3 point line when a girl from the other team was shooting a free throw so i could talk shit. i would try to make friends with the refs and would sneak in elbow jabs when i could. god, i hated players like me.

i'm nearly 26, and i still long for the glory days. i miss basketball. it made me feel so alive. my life revolved around it...almost.

nimrod chronicles [part 1]

lately i haven't felt like myself. i'm not sure why, but i've discovered a perfect way to distract myself. it was purely unintentional, but on monday i decided to have a 90s music day - the stuff i loved in high school. this consisted of weezer, granian, rockwell church, vertical horizon [mostly pre-major label days], nirvana, pat mcgee band, cowboy mouth, everclear, brian mcknight, green day, barenaked ladies, and 2pac. lots of 2pac. music often serves as a time machine, so i was mentally transported back to the late 90s. those were [mostly] good days. but things were different then. i've been reflecting quite a bit about my 16 [ish] year old self. i'm not sure what i think about her. decide for yourself. this one's going to be multi-part...

i'm not even sure where to start. to paint a broad picture:

i attended hyde park baptist high school - a small [graduating class of 61], brainwashing private school that was in the same building as the church i grew up in. i spent all of my time there. all. as most kids at the time, i frequented abercrombie and fitch, to my parents chagrin [but this was the least of their worries]. i was preppy with the occasional hint of grunge, i'd say. gap and old navy, lots of khaki and tucked in shirts and sweaters. then there was flannel, of course. my favorite shoes were my brown doc marten boots. everyone fucking had them. i got mine in 7th grade, so they were nice and worn in by high school. prime. my hair was short, above my shoulders. straight [yet fairly poofy especially in austin humidity] and curled under. i was particular about the way i looked, but i'm pretty sure i looked like everyone else [minus my hair/skin combo].

i was a straight A student only thanks to a good short term memory [not good for college though]. i played basketball, softball, and ran cross country for one season. i sang in school choir which involved being in the spring musical, and i always had the smallest/shittiest/strangest parts in the fall play [mrs. clausing, spanish girl with green hair, mrs. squirrel]. i was involved in the youth group at church, including sunday school, souled out on wednesday nights, disciple now, camp travis and even church choir. this involved a somewhat legendary choir trip each summer and singing in the choir loft on sunday mornings. so every sunday morning at 8:30am i was in a choir robe in the choir loft [i'll pause while you picture it]. it probably goes without saying, but church wasn't exactly a choice at this point. i guess i didn't mind it too much, though. i got to be with friends.

when i turned 16, i got a maroon 1990 nissan pathfinder. i immediately bought a CD changer with my own money and hung a pair of fuzzy, leopard print dice around my rearview mirror [this was a sarcastic piece of decor, just to clarify]. the first CD i listened to in pedro, as i called him, was pearl jam live. i was finally free...