Status: Active
Culture Shock
Comfortably Predictable
Meet Blue Rock. Population 94,175.
Three public high schools, each four times the size of Stanville's, serve the city and it's residents.
As far as sports successes go, one of their high schools made sectionals last year for boy's team track, but to say most everyone in the town attends their sports events...is lying. Blue Rock was far from Sports-Obsessed Stanville.
In more ways than one.
* * *
My head ached as we bumped over a rough selection of the highway. Three hundred and seventy miles into the trip was far too many.
My mother, after her and my dad's divorce, decided to take me and her job to Blue Rock, Nevada. Her opinion, devoid of any doubt, was sure that the move would increase her happiness and attitude – according to her, it gave her the chance to “start over.” A chance for me as well - “meeting new people, creating new hobbies, and experiencing opportunities.”
I liked Stanville. It was a type of boring that was comfortably predictable. The dependence I had on Ms. Suzy's restaurant to always be open after school on Tuesdays, my Spanish teacher to always have a picture of a shirtless Spanish model on her walls, and – of course – the girls volleyball team to always succeed was a sort of dependence an individual gets used to over time. The extra time not spend keeping up with new development and gossip left time to think.
Don't get me wrong, the love I had for Stanville didn't surpass the love and respect I had for my mother, so I packed up my lowly bedroom's contents, said goodbye to a handful of friends, and followed her for four hundred miles.
I had no idea what to expect of Blue Rock.
As we drove down the smoothly-paved asphalt leading to our cul-de-sac, in which our house was located, I was still unsure of what to think.
Little did I know that the inability to think would be persistent as the new, loud lifestyle of Blue Rock surprised me, would never quite slow down enough to allow me to figure out who I was until I didn't expect it.
Three public high schools, each four times the size of Stanville's, serve the city and it's residents.
As far as sports successes go, one of their high schools made sectionals last year for boy's team track, but to say most everyone in the town attends their sports events...is lying. Blue Rock was far from Sports-Obsessed Stanville.
In more ways than one.
* * *
My head ached as we bumped over a rough selection of the highway. Three hundred and seventy miles into the trip was far too many.
My mother, after her and my dad's divorce, decided to take me and her job to Blue Rock, Nevada. Her opinion, devoid of any doubt, was sure that the move would increase her happiness and attitude – according to her, it gave her the chance to “start over.” A chance for me as well - “meeting new people, creating new hobbies, and experiencing opportunities.”
I liked Stanville. It was a type of boring that was comfortably predictable. The dependence I had on Ms. Suzy's restaurant to always be open after school on Tuesdays, my Spanish teacher to always have a picture of a shirtless Spanish model on her walls, and – of course – the girls volleyball team to always succeed was a sort of dependence an individual gets used to over time. The extra time not spend keeping up with new development and gossip left time to think.
Don't get me wrong, the love I had for Stanville didn't surpass the love and respect I had for my mother, so I packed up my lowly bedroom's contents, said goodbye to a handful of friends, and followed her for four hundred miles.
I had no idea what to expect of Blue Rock.
As we drove down the smoothly-paved asphalt leading to our cul-de-sac, in which our house was located, I was still unsure of what to think.
Little did I know that the inability to think would be persistent as the new, loud lifestyle of Blue Rock surprised me, would never quite slow down enough to allow me to figure out who I was until I didn't expect it.
♠ ♠ ♠
© silent_chance stories; 2013.All Rights Reserved.
No part of this story, its characters, or its plot line is allowed to be used in other written productions.