"In the next installment (I promise will come in a much more prompt fashion) I hope to finish up seventh grade and delve into my eighth grade year." - Nick Bendeck, May 15, 2013. What a crock.
It has been damn near two years since I left you chomping on the proverbial bit. I've apologized on here a few times for absences and untimely posting, and then gone right back on those words and stomped on them. There's really no reason for you to still have an interest, and even if you do, you have earned the right to be skeptical.
My only excuses are fear and lethargy. When I had originally jumped into this storytelling adventure, I thought it would be neat to explore my past experiences and share them with, honestly, anyone. But once I got past the easy-going formative years, I remembered how real life started to get, and how I had handled most it; I hid. Just like I hid from talking about it in this format. I got to the beginning portion of sharing my feelings about a girl, and I just straight up stopped out of fear. Fear of what? I do not know.
I want to do my best to keep this mostly light-hearted, but if I'm honest with myself, that's just not how some of these things shook out. Please, don't misinterpret this as a pity party or an "Oh, his life was sooo tough," story, because that is not my intent. I do want you to know that for the majority of my brief existence on this lovely planet, I have always done my best to be a listening ear when someone had a problem or needed to share something that was bothering them. But I have never been one to share my feelings. I keep them to myself; always have. Burdening others with my "problems" just seemed unfair, probably because they seemed insignificant in my mind when I compared them to the things people had shared with me.
So, what am I saying? I'm saying that, this is going to get difficult for me. I am going to have to dig down into some things that I had previously thought "off-limits." But, I believe deep down, that was the intent of this project from the very beginning. Now, I won't promise you that I'll post every week and I'll be right on top of this thing, but I will say that I am going to give this more thought and energy. I started out on this journey to share my life with you, and even though I've had issues with quitting before, I truly do intend to finish.
Let's leave with this, the very first blog that I posted almost two years ago:
"Honesty. That's what this whole thing is about. Life. Friends. Family. All of them require that one simple word, to hold them together. I haven't been completely honest with the people in my life, or myself, for a long time now. I want to use this as a tool to tell my true story. My real life through my mind. I'll try to keep identities secret, for now, out of respect. Some of this stuff might actually be a little brutal. Honestly, I'm not quite sure what all I'm going to include yet, but it's only fair to myself that I get everything off my chest eventually. This blog will not be about spreading dirt about friends or discrediting people. It will strictly be about telling a story and expressing real emotions. I'd love to have some friends for this journey, so if you want to tune in and talk to me, I'm all for that. I live for communication and interaction. This post is mostly just to get some info out there as to my intentions for the blog. In my next post I'll have a little bit more bio on me and then we'll get started. I'm going to end each post with a little life fact just as a present for your attention. If you've read this, thank you. If you read no more than this, thank you just the same." - Nick Bendeck, April 15, 2013
Today's note: "The same boiling water that softens the potato, hardens the egg. Life isn't about the circumstances you are in, but, rather, what you are made of." A new friend of mine shared this quote with me, and it stuck in my head for months. Life truly is just a constant game of how you respond and react to the situations you are put in. What you're made of and how you were raised, those are the factors that grant you passage through life's toughest tests.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Middle School
To tell my full story with the most accuracy, I feel it is pertinent to split each level of my life into multiple blogs. I would have to skip too many events if I was to condense everything into four or five posts. The most integral details are found in the relationships I had with friends and teachers, and the band room, so my posts will mostly focus on those things. My story truly begins in the hallowed halls of John Sevier Middle School.
The summer before my first year at JSMS I was taken to the instrument placement event at the middle school. Each student who wanted to play in the concert band had to test a few instruments to see where their talents would best be utilized. Almost all of the boys wanted to play drums, as it would be the easiest instrument to parlay into a career as a rockstar. I fit right into that stigma. I had taken a few lessons from friends and was sure I would nail the audition. And nail it I did.
Among the notes taken were, "Excellent rhythm and ability to follow tempo changes. Overall: 9.5/10." Needless to say I was ecstatic. It was the first instrument I auditioned on and I had crushed it. But, we were required to try instruments in each family, so I had to waste more time on things I wouldn't be as successful on. The woodwind family auditions will receive no more attention than me telling you they was horrid and embarrassing. The brass family would lead to more of the same, or so I thought.
The late Ron Wilcox, took me into one of the classrooms where he had the instruments and mouthpieces all laid out neatly. We shared some pleasantries, then began the trials. He handed me a trumpet mouthpiece and I scoffed (in my head, mind you). It was way too small for my voluptuous lips. I tried to buzz into it, but was not successful. The french horn and trombone mouthpieces yielded more of the same results. Then I had a break through, sort of.
In Mr.Wilcox's infinite knowledge, he skipped the fourth mouthpiece and grabbed the largest one in the room. He told me to flap my lips and pretend I was blowing out a candle at the same time. It was a very awkward exercise, but when I placed the metal monster to my lips, it produced a sound. I wasn't familiar with the sound, but Mr.Wilcox assured me that I had done well. Among his notes was the comment, "Something special. Overall: 7/10." I asked him what the last one was, and he told me it was a tuba mouthpiece. After a firm hand shake, he escorted me out. That was it. I had done it. Bring on the ladies. I was going to be the next percussionist in the JSMS Concert Band. Or so I thought.
When I had finished with the auditions and the paperwork, I was sent to have a conference with the man in charge, Richard Brown. He had been the director of the band for quite some time and was the final authority on who was placed on what instrument. I handed him my sheet with a beaming smile on my face, and sat back with anticipation. He looked over it carefully, then placed it on his desk under his interlocked fingers.
"Well, you had a couple great auditions here. What would you like to do?"
"I'd like to play the drums," I said.
"That seems to be pretty popular. We already have 10 new percussionists. Is there anything else you'd like to play?" He was stonewalling me. I couldn't believe it.
I blanked. "I don't know, sir."
"It looks like you did pretty well with the tuba. We only have four tuba players. How about that?"
I was weak. "Sure."
"Excellent. Go check one out and I'll look forward to working with you this year." His smile and enthusiasm were oddly infectious.
I left the school in a whirlwind of confusion, with a giant black tuba case rolling behind me. I had never even seen the instrument before that day, but I would be attempting to master it over the next year. Even though I was frustrated and angry then, little did I know, the decision Mr.Brown had made that day would shape the course of the rest of my life.
Today's note: Try to do things for other people just because they're nice to do, not because you want them to owe you a favor. It will always feel better and, in the end, reap better rewards. Karma.
The summer before my first year at JSMS I was taken to the instrument placement event at the middle school. Each student who wanted to play in the concert band had to test a few instruments to see where their talents would best be utilized. Almost all of the boys wanted to play drums, as it would be the easiest instrument to parlay into a career as a rockstar. I fit right into that stigma. I had taken a few lessons from friends and was sure I would nail the audition. And nail it I did.
Among the notes taken were, "Excellent rhythm and ability to follow tempo changes. Overall: 9.5/10." Needless to say I was ecstatic. It was the first instrument I auditioned on and I had crushed it. But, we were required to try instruments in each family, so I had to waste more time on things I wouldn't be as successful on. The woodwind family auditions will receive no more attention than me telling you they was horrid and embarrassing. The brass family would lead to more of the same, or so I thought.
The late Ron Wilcox, took me into one of the classrooms where he had the instruments and mouthpieces all laid out neatly. We shared some pleasantries, then began the trials. He handed me a trumpet mouthpiece and I scoffed (in my head, mind you). It was way too small for my voluptuous lips. I tried to buzz into it, but was not successful. The french horn and trombone mouthpieces yielded more of the same results. Then I had a break through, sort of.
In Mr.Wilcox's infinite knowledge, he skipped the fourth mouthpiece and grabbed the largest one in the room. He told me to flap my lips and pretend I was blowing out a candle at the same time. It was a very awkward exercise, but when I placed the metal monster to my lips, it produced a sound. I wasn't familiar with the sound, but Mr.Wilcox assured me that I had done well. Among his notes was the comment, "Something special. Overall: 7/10." I asked him what the last one was, and he told me it was a tuba mouthpiece. After a firm hand shake, he escorted me out. That was it. I had done it. Bring on the ladies. I was going to be the next percussionist in the JSMS Concert Band. Or so I thought.
When I had finished with the auditions and the paperwork, I was sent to have a conference with the man in charge, Richard Brown. He had been the director of the band for quite some time and was the final authority on who was placed on what instrument. I handed him my sheet with a beaming smile on my face, and sat back with anticipation. He looked over it carefully, then placed it on his desk under his interlocked fingers.
"Well, you had a couple great auditions here. What would you like to do?"
"I'd like to play the drums," I said.
"That seems to be pretty popular. We already have 10 new percussionists. Is there anything else you'd like to play?" He was stonewalling me. I couldn't believe it.
I blanked. "I don't know, sir."
"It looks like you did pretty well with the tuba. We only have four tuba players. How about that?"
I was weak. "Sure."
"Excellent. Go check one out and I'll look forward to working with you this year." His smile and enthusiasm were oddly infectious.
I left the school in a whirlwind of confusion, with a giant black tuba case rolling behind me. I had never even seen the instrument before that day, but I would be attempting to master it over the next year. Even though I was frustrated and angry then, little did I know, the decision Mr.Brown had made that day would shape the course of the rest of my life.
Today's note: Try to do things for other people just because they're nice to do, not because you want them to owe you a favor. It will always feel better and, in the end, reap better rewards. Karma.
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