Thankful

University of Illinois Menace / By

Sorry I’ve been MIA, friends. A combination of life getting crazy, me pretending that I’m also on fall break (despite, you know, the jobless situation), and a three-day Thanksgiving feast-induced coma has kept me away from writing. The truth is that I’ve actually had a lot of thoughts ideas for posts and have started a few drafts, I just haven’t gotten around to polishin’ and writing them or anything. Also Skyd beat me to the punch with team previews and now I feel like a chump, oh well.

In any case.
It’s been a pretty crazy year and even though some days it feels like there are more down days than there are up days, I’ve got a lot to be thankful for:

  • My family.
  • My mom, who taught me what it means to be a strong woman, and without whom I wouldn’t know the meaning of sacrifice or unconditional love.
  • My sister, who both inspires me and annoys the living daylights out of me, like any little sister should 🙂
  • My dad, who argues with me, pisses me off, embarrasses me, and supports me more than anyone else in the world.
  • Capers and Scout, the best (stuffed animal) otters a 22 year old adult could ask for.
  • Illinois Menace, past and present. My ultimate family.
  • Maggie “Margaret” Dunleavy, Kate “Fozzy Oso” Fasbender, and Kim “Kimmy D” LeCleir. So I recently received my November issue of IlliniHQ in the mail, which features the four seniors of the Illini men’s basketball team. Kind of reminds me of us. When that class of 2007 came in, it was seven strong, and four years later, it’s down to four. I don’t remember how big our class was, but it was pretty sizeable. By the end of it, it was down to us four (although Kim left us early due to her December graduation, le sigh, so technically three I guess but eh). We saw it all and watched the program change from year to year. It feels really, really weird that we’re done playing together. It’s been a crazy few years, that’s for sure. Thanks for going through that journey with me.
  • Shanghai HuWa, and how playing overseas made me appreciate the game again. I’ll never forget working for my spot on that team, and playing to prove that I belonged there.
  • Spicy Tuna, for helping me rediscover that competitive fire and giving me the chance to cleat up with Foster again.
  • Angela, Rachel, Thor, and Vicki, for giving me the space to figure out what I needed to love playing again, and for constantly challenging me to be better.
  • All the coaches I’ve ever had in life, from basketball to cross country to ultimate, for putting up with my shit, teaching me, guiding me, and making sure I had my head and my heart in the right place.
  • The people who are still my friends, ten years later. They know who they are, which is kind of lame and cliche to say, but it’s true. They’re the best.
  • Team Stanford ’08: Anthony, Beardy, Dave, Denise, Doc, Erin, JoJo, Jolanta, Krystal, Lorna, Milan, Sam, Steph.
  • Team Stanford ’09: Beardy, Becky, Brittany, Doc, Emily, Milan, Sameer, Steve.
  • Beardy, Doc, and Milan, and how we got to spend an extra summer together. I wouldn’t have made it through ’09 without those guys, and I couldn’t have asked for better people to go through hell with. Whether they know it or not, they’re like brothers to me, and I’ll love them forever.
  • My adorable Potter girls, who taught me how to laugh, and my creepy Adams Family creatures, who taught me how to cry.
  • Team Girlfriend, and how they reinvigorated me.
  • Sarah “Best Friend” Rosenwinkel, for constantly challenging me, making me laugh/cry, and making a “Best Friends To Do List” with me, which involves spending a lot of time laughing/crying/arguing/”discussing” at UGL, identifying types of bitches, “creeping”, eating, going on bike rides, exploring for meth and other lethal and illegal drugs (read: spotting “meth barns” and other places that meth addicts might live/hang out), “acquiring” things from Bielfeldt, certain three-time National Champions, and legitimate giants.
  • Mrs. Rojewski, the first teacher I had who truly inspired me; Ms. Arcieri, the teacher who made me want to write; and Ms. Graf, the teacher who made me want to be good at it.
  • Mr. English, who had to read all my ill-fated attempts at writing when I was in high school (in actuality, everything was super dark and morbid and upon reviewing now, was just horrible at best); Ms. Murphy, who always believed I had what it took to follow my dreams and gave me the space to do so; and Mrs. Hogan, who supported me through everything, listened to me cry about every high school thing that ever happened in my life, and made me feel like I had someone on my team.
  • Prof. Leff, whose office became my third home senior year (first = Red Roof Inn #15, second = UGL), and whose endless support and wisdom helped me conquer that dreaded senior thesis; Prof. Diehl, who was always getting on my ass and constantly challenging me to be better because he knew I had it in me; and Prof. Henehan, who was someone that I always secretly wanted to impress, and who surprised the hell out of me when she still remembered me when she saw me present my senior thesis.
  • Prof. Pintar, Prof. Fireman, Prof. Miler, and Prof. Dooley, who showed me that it’s possible to learn and laugh.
  • Prof. Althaus, for believing that I had swine flu and giving me an extra weekend to NOT study for my supposedly harder make-up exam (which I still got a 98 on, boom); Prof. Yang, for thinking I was “the best” (setting the standard for fucking EXCELLENCE in AAS 120); and Prof. Swenson, for not getting mad that I re-typed a filthy, drunken, expletive-laden story that I was overhearing in the hallway of Snyder at the bottom of my PHIL 105 paper, which I didn’t remember sending until I woke up the next morning. Oops.
  • All the teachers, TAs, and professors I’ve ever had. I don’t know that I ever really appreciated everything they did for me and all that they taught me in the moment (y’know, when I was bitching about having to write papers and studying and whatnot), but looking back on it, they’ve had a huge influence on my life.
  • Cary Frye, who took a chance on me and continually proves to me that there is such a thing as true altruism in our world today. If I get anywhere with this whole photography thing, it’ll be because of his generosity and his guidance, and even if I don’t, I’ll still never forget how kind, open, and selfless he has been in helping me discover what I’m passionate about. I can only hope that one day I can do for some young kid what he’s done for me.
  • Everyone else who’s helped me out in terms of lending me equipment, answering my millions of ridiculous questions, suggesting things to me, and looking at/critiquing my photos.
  • The Legion (Without Limits, now?) and everyone out there who cares about women’s ultimate.
  • Bosley Park and the front lawn of Snyder (before they paved paradise and put up a parking lot, literally), where my love was born and cultivated.
  • The Armory, Irwin, the Complex Fields, Memorial Stadium (read: vomit), and CRCE/IMPE/the ARC, where my love was fortified.
  • 2007 College Championship Quarters: UCLA vs. Wisconsin.
  • Regionals ’08 backdoor final vs. Michigan State, Sectionals ’09 final vs. Northwestern, Nationals ’09 vs. UNC-Wilmington.
  • The entirety of Trouble in Vegas ’08, Texas Throwdown ’08 vs. Wisconsin, Hong Kong Pan Asian Tournament ’08 semis vs. Sunken Pleasure, the entirety of Sunday of Pres Day ’09, Regionals ’09 final vs. Michigan, Regionals ’09 backdoor final vs. Ohio State, Nationals ’09 vs. Wash U.
  • 12-15, and 15-4 a year later.
  • CCC ’10 vs. Georgia-X on Saturday and Georgia-Y on Sunday, CCC 2010 (all of it, really), the debacle that was traveling to San Diego for Pres Day, Monday of Pres Day ’10 vs. Sonoma, Chicago Invite ’10 vs. Illinois State, Centex ’10 vs. Wash U.
  • Sectionals ’10, and what it taught me about appreciation and never taking anything as a given.
  • The Statue of Liberty.
  • Calling “Foster Banana”, and not recognizing the hilarity of it (Bananas Foster, y’know) until well after the point was over. That’s not exactly how the point was scored, but scoring the first (and only?) point of that game against Northwestern to end my college career was pretty sweet.
  • Having the last game of my college ultimate career, against Northwestern at Regionals, be the most hilarious and fun game on the day. I’ve never laughed so hard on the field, honestly.
  • 26.2 miles in the heat that taught me how to fight, and 26.2 miles in the cold that taught me how to quietly and slowly persevere. What will the next 26.2 teach me?
  • “Mediocre”, and how eight letters and one simple word could push me through any pain I felt.
  • My body, because despite all its bitching and moaning (read: aches and pains), it avoided The Kiss of Death.
  • D-Line.
  • All my weight gain, and how it apparently made me a better player? Since every time I’ve won “Most Improved Player” has been after I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight?
  • 58 E. Armory Ave. #15, Complex Fields, the Armory, Irwin, ARC/CRCE/IMPE, the Undergrad Library, Grainger, the Ag Library, the Union on Saturday mornings, the Pine Lounge, the President’s Lounge, the computer lab in the basement of the English Building, Memorial Stadium, Huff Hall, Illinois Track and Soccer Stadium, The Assembly Hall, the meth silo on St. Mary’s, Computer Applications Building (gross), Firehaus, Murphy’s, the McKinley Foundation, Lincoln Hall (and the northwest stairs that used to lead to the PS department … yikes), Greg Hall, Bielfeldt, the Six Pack dining halls, ISR Room 1026, and the entire Illinois campus, actually.
  • Adams Tower, Sterling Quad, Potter Lounge, Potter 1 and Potter 3, Adams 2, the real Tank (Beefeaters), the ghetto Tank (jail cell in Schiff), Arrillaga, Roble, Lake Lagunita, Lakeside Dining Commons, Robinson Roof, and the entire Stanford campus, actually.
  • My city, and how it’ll be my town ’til I lie down.
  • Basketball, my first love, and college basketball season, for all the anguish, joy, anticipation, excitement, and true happiness it brings me. As much as I love ultimate, there’s something about floor burns, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the lub-dub lub-dub of the ball, the sound of a ball going cleanly through the net, and the feeling of the grooves of the ball on my fingers that gets me in the best way, always.
  • The UConn Huskies, for always setting the bar high, and who will always and forever be my role models.
  • The Fighting Illini, for filling my life with pride and orange-ness, and occasionally unnecessary anguish and even anger. Ohhhhh, you guys.
  • Allison (the namesake, not the inspiration), for taking me wherever I need to go, being a trouper and trouping on despite “injuries”, and not being mad at me for backing her into a tree.
  • The golf cart (read: the love of my life), and all the adventures it took me on, whether it was a birthday joy ride, a drunk shuttle, Boo Patroling, or just sitting on it at night after the kids were in bed, chatting or writing.
  • This big idea in my head, and my hope that one day it’ll come to fruition. It’s a personal quest more than anything, even if no one ends up enjoying what comes of it.
  • The knowledge that true love exists.
  • The knowledge that the next big laugh is just waiting in my gut and my lungs…
  • T-Bag and Chan, who told me to start this blog back in ’08.
  • Everyone who’s read this and passed it on (and has put up with my non-ultimate writing, and the shit I pass off as posts).
  • All the encouraging e-mails, comments, texts, and whatnot that I’ve gotten over the years. It means a lot, and I’ve saved ’em all for rainy days. Thanks, ya’ll.
  • A million other things, both material and otherwise, that are too numerous to list.