Right now, I am supposed to be on a cruise with my family, sailing up the Atlantic Ocean. I am supposed to be "relaxing," a word that hasn't quite reached my limited vocabulary, or for that matter, any of my family members'. I am supposed to be chilling out by the pool, not thinking about anything, just soaking up the sun and enjoying life.
Instead, due to a misplacement of birth certificates, I am writing an article for Bleacher Report.
Not that I have anything against Bleacher Report. In fact, writing for Bleacher Report has taken up a lot of my summer, with no regrets, but tons of smiles. My time writing for b/r has been brief, but the wild atmosphere of this web site can be seen outside of my computer screen, heard outside my computer's speakers, and felt way beyond the keys of this Windows Vista piece of crap that Sony calls a computer.
While I have these feelings for b/r, I feel like writing this article is the last thing I want to be doing right now. I want to be chilling by the pool, going down a four-story water slide and enjoying some of the few relaxing moments my family has together.
But enough about my emotions. You didn't give this article a read to hear about my family vacation gone bust.
You gave it a read because of the title, which is true literally and figuratively.
Right now for Bleacher Report, I am one slide show into an eight-part series about pitchers that deserved Cy Young Awards pre-1956. After all, there were 80 years of National League baseball before 1956, and those pitchers never get any recognition, so I had the idea to commemorate the pitchers of an era long forgotten.
If you are horrifically bored of this piece already, you can find the first part of that series right here.
So literally, b/r is my summer vacation.
But there is another aspect to it.
Here I am, an ambitious 15-year-old sports fanatic who, for one week out of 52, is trying to take his mind off of the one thing he can actually focus on (a small case of ADD makes it tough to focus on anything else), but all else fails, and I find myself writing on b/r.
This got me thinking.
Bleacher Report is more than a web site to occupy my time. It is, in a sense, an addiction. Ever since I found it over a month ago, it has been at the forefront of everything I do. Forfeiting time to hang out with my friends, spend time with my family, even sleep, just to write articles for b/r.
I stayed up until 2:30 on Wednesday night writing the Cy Young Award sideshow.
I didn't do it because I had a deadline to meet. I didn't do it to impress anyone. I did it because I have an addiction to b/r. This web site is so amazing, allowing anyone to succeed, that I feel like I need to contribute as much as I can, for my development as a sports writer and so people can have something good to read.
So I will come out and say it: I have an addiction. I am addicted to Bleacher Report.
I'm not joining AA and I'm not going to check into rehab.
In fact, I'm not changing anything, because this is an addiction that I want to keep.
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