Guys, as someone who had to tear herself away from her thirtieth viewing of Gaga’s Monster Ball HBO special in order to write this, I need to ask: Is it normal to not really be that big of a Lady Gaga fan (I know that she’s now made an appearance in two of my most recent postings, but I swear that I’m not even that big of a fan, I just wanna see what out-of-this-world thing she’s gonna do next) but to kind of be obsessed with her dancers? Because I think they are sick. I don’t even dance — rather, I can’t dance, but mylanta they are just all sorts of fierce. I have a very deep appreciation for people who dedicate and sacrifice hell of much for the sake of their craft.
In any case, if you’ll notice, I’m back to my regular playing/writing height of 5’3 (*foghorn*) now that I’m off the soapbox. I don’t usually like to go in on controversial issues (*snicker snicker*), but it’s something that I feel deeply about and wanted to get out there. But f’real, sorry for getting all preachy with y’all. Sometimes I get emotional and get carried away. This happens on occasion, but I try not to let it get the best of me too often. (/understatement)
[Side note: Yo, Google Chrome. How the EFF am I supposed to function as a normal, non-hysterical human being when your commercials consistently get me some type of way? I’m just lucky that there’s someone else out there that understands what this emotional turbulence (read: instability?) is like. *sigh* *so many cries*]
So… Regies, huh? Wow.
As a fangirl, I’m majorly bummed that two of my original fangirl teams, UCLA and Wisconsin, will not be at Nationals this year. I always enjoy watching both of those teams compete, and there were a number of players I was hoping to get to see again. In fact, there are a number of teams from Nations ’10 that won’t be at the ’11 edition. We’ll be getting some fresh looks in Boulder this year, and it’s kind of exciting. It says a lot about the growing parity of the women’s field, and it’s just always really great to see new talent/teams, or talent/teams you wouldn’t have heard of/seen otherwise. Fortunately for me, the defending National Champion and the third in my trio of fangirl teams, Oregon, will be in Boulder! I was just telling my mom the other day that I loved watching them play in Madison last summer (she was such a sport and nodded along like she had any idea what I was talking about), and I can’t wait to see those bright jerseys flying around again. It’s hard not to really like this team, with their obvious love for the game and each other on full display all the time. Maybe it really was the frantic blur of bright color that I saw on the field when I was watching their games last summer, but I just really, really, really like the way they play. So quick, so fluid, so active; it’s like there’s really never a dull moment. You know how the Rams were the “Greatest Show on Turf”? I wish someone would come up with a sweet nickname like that for Fugue.
(Side note: I see that Virginia will be at Naysh — is that tall guy who wore the zoot suit to Centex 2K10 still their coach? Cause if so, DOPE. I hope he has more fly threads that he’ll be breaking out for the occasion.)
On that note…
Things I Really Miss
- My bandannas. Since I’ve stopped playing frisbee “full time”, I’ve been letting my hair grow out and it’s waaaaaay too much volume for my bandannas to handle, so the Bruins cap has been getting a lot of action lately. (On an earth-shattering side note: My obsession with the “B” logo may be coming to an end, as both my Red Sox and UCLA caps are falling victim to the dreaded stinky sweat ring and general deterioration. I recently bought a White Sox cap for $6, and it’s just waiting in the wings…) I contemplated wearing my orange bandanna for the marathon for about a second, but I didn’t want to burn my part. Listen, I know that sounds “weak”, but a burnt part (or “The Line of Fire”, as Karen Baumann would call it — side note: why are we friends?/why slash how are people friends with us?) is annoying as ever and I’m not trying to play that.
- My metabolism. I used to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and it never, ever affected my weight or fitness level. For crying out loud, there is an entire Facebook album of me EATING. You’ve heard of ugly-crying? Well I ugly-eat. (I also ugly-cry, but you already knew that.) Don’t try to look for that album, unless you want visions of me with my jaws unhinged haunting your dreams. But that’s me, though. I don’t really “eat” or “dine”. I straight up FEED. I DEVOUR. It’s been hard for me to watch what I’m eating all the cot dang time because I’m not as active as I used to be. I’m still hungry about 24 hours out of the day, but I don’t do enough physical activity to justify constant eating. My inner big girl is weeping. I miss the late night trips to County Market to get some sort of wildly unhealthy snack and then photographing the ensuing feedings with my roommate. *le sigh*
- Regularly scheduled ultimate. Even though I’m unemployed, being a “real person” interferes with my ultimate playing schedule. I’m not always available when a pickup game pops up somewhere, and it’s not always worth my time or money to travel far away for the rare game that occurs when I am available. On top of that, living in a neighborhood lacking in ultimate players (read: I don’t live in one of Chicago’s trendy neighborhoods, overflowing with people with too much money and crawling with insufferable hipsters.) means I can’t even leisurely toss around a disc with someone when leisure time arises. That’s probably one of the biggest things I miss about living on a college campus. No longer do I live a mere 5-15 minutes away from anyone that would be interested in throwing a disc with me at almost all times of the day. No longer do I have practice 3-5 days a week, allowing for a scheduled ultimate fix. Also, this spring weather is jai blowing me, my dudes. Having practically every weekend of spring league canceled due to the weather is unsavory. Going weeks without touching a disc is not fun and I’m not okay with it. I miss when ultimate was something in my schedule, not like now, when it’s kind of a major treat that I get to play.
- Riding in cars with friends. Either because I don’t go places anymore or because I have no friends (or a sad combination of both, mad cries/*foghorn*), I don’t get to do this very often nowadays. There is a well-worn path between my house, the gym, and my aunt’s house, probably the only two places I go to with any regularity, sigh. I miss turning to the person next to me and getting hype about a song on the radio, or singing out loud with everyone in the car, or playing some sort of car game, or pointing out every meth barn/house/shanty/etc. on the road. I’m sorry, but what is the point of hearing “Always Be My Baby” on the radio if there is no one around to “doo doo doop, dum” (Thanks, Melissa Beck) with? I also miss pulling off to some random, janky, questionable-looking restaurant because it’s the only dining establishment open at that hour on that stretch of highway you’re traveling. God, ultimate road trips were always the best, you know? Sometimes we were wildly unprepared for them, but they were still mad fun and adventurous.
- My inside-out forehand. Has anyone seen it? No, but 4srsly.
- California and all my friends that live there. I haven’t been back in over a year now, and it hurts. I’m feeling homesick for a time, a place, and my people, even though I know I can’t go back to any of that. 🙁
Things I’ve Learned
- If I’m standing twenty yards out of the endzone with a cutter beating his man to the left back cone of the endzone, I’ll throw an ill-advised hammer if John Falck is on the sideline calling for it (even if he is on the other team) (also even if it’s a close game) (also even if we’ve been playing a marathon point and both teams have failed to score at least seven times each in the same point) (also even if we’ve patiently worked the disc upfield) (also even if the stall count is only at 3 and I have an open dump). In case you’re wondering, the actual hammer I threw looked about eight times uglier than you’re picturing, and I threw it NOWHERE near my guy. But the sideline loved it, so that’s all that matters. John Falck shouted that it was “exciting”. It’s scissors league, baby. I gotta give the people what they paid for.
- The bad almost never outshines the good. I was cleaning my desk recently and came across a picture taken of me during a very difficult time of my life. Thinking back on that time and even some of the people in that picture pisses me off. It reminds me of those dark, unhappy times. But then I look at my face and how wide that douchey smile is. Even if during that time I was unhappy, in that moment I was elated.
- I am not capable of productivity unless I’m wearing a cutoff shirt or a basketball jersey and basketball shorts. I think I just like to give my bi’s and tri’s their full range of motion, yknowhumsayin’? Also, pit stains are just unsightly, dig?
- My independent streak is something fierce. I’d rather roll alone than have fake friends roll with me when the times are good, nowhere to be found when I might need them. I know what I’m unwilling to compromise, I know what I believe in, I know what I want, and I know what I have to do to get it. Anything or anybody that tries to throw me off any of these things that I know and hold dearly, well, y’all can do you and I’ll do me, and we’ll go merrily on our separate ways.
- I’m at my best when I’m playing with someone who’s a lot better than me. It’s not about relying on them to do the heavy lifting, it’s about the little shot of adrenaline it gives me to be playing with a great player. It makes me want to do my part and to do it well. It makes me calm in situations where I’m ordinarily very nervous and unreliable. It forces me to step up and show out. You know, I just generally wile out less. It’s like picking up a random to be your running partner during a race — you’re not stopping because they’re not stopping, you pick up speed because they pick up speed. You push each other to be better and you help each other keep pace.
- Imma keep it cool and imma do me. It is what it is and that’s how it’s gonna be, until I get there, until I get there… And yeah I got flaws, I know I’m not perfect, but all the ups and downs will soon be worth it when I get there, when I get there…
Things I’ve Accepted
- Not everyone looks cool in a snapback. I am one of those people. *foghorn* ;___; *deep sigh*
- I have a terrible sense of humor. Sometimes I’m into “smart” humor or “dry” humor, or at. Sometimes I enjoy satire and parodies and all that. But then sometimes I just wanna laugh at Family Guy, y’know? I wanted to play a practical joke on my dad the other day, and the FIRST thing I thought of was peeing in the top part of his toilet. I told my mom about this plan and she could not figure out why it was so hilarious. Maybe because you’re not an eleven year old boy, mom. Also maybe because you’re smarter than me. *foghorn*
- I’m gonna become one of those people who has to wear knee braces on both my knees whenever I play sports/run. *facepalm*
- My body may never be as resilient as it was in college. Back in college, I could run a marathon and a week later I’d play almost every point of a two-day tournament (No Wisco ’09). I was fine too, with the exception of some unforch cramps on Sunday. But now, if I walk up more than three flights of stairs I have to spend the next four days in an ice bath. I’m serious, it’s getting ridiculous. Just over a week removed from the marathon and I’m still not feeling great. Did I turn my ankle at some point during the run? Because my left ankle is really, really hurting me. I don’t even know. (Of course I also thought I might have soiled myself — negative, phew — so that goes to show you how perceptive I am of what’s happening with my body.) My hamstrings are shot, and both my knees are just generally pissy these days. What happened to my spry, durable, young body? It ran off with my IO flick, I bet. Sl00tz.
- Those who cast aspersions are the same ones who can’t face their own faults. I feel really self-righteous in pointing that out, but it is what it is, you know?
- No matter how angry I get, no amount of angry demonstration will get my turn back. I’m still not very good at letting go of mistakes, but one big, loud, fierce roar and I’m back in the game.
- My thought process will always be two steps behind my execution. You know how you pick up the disc and think to yourself, “I’m going to look to the dump on my break side, first”? I repeat that over and over to myself as I walk up to the disc. And then I pick it up and throw it to the dump that the cup is forcing to. AKA I throw into a trap. Right after I release the disc, as it’s sailing over to the dump, I think to myself, “Oops. I wasn’t supposed to throw it there.” And then I wish so hard I had the disc on a string and I could just reel it back in. You know that feeling? Ugh.
- There is no human being in the entire world who sweats as much as I do. No, I don’t think there should be a contest or anything, but I’m just saying that if there *was* a contest, I’d win. And I’d win by a lot.
- Everybody’s time in the sun ends some time. I’m accepting that mine is over.
Things That Are Important to Me
- Knowing that my heart can still kick into super bass mode. Slightly embarrassing, but mostly reassuring. (:
- Laughing out loud. I’ve been told that I have a really embarrassing laugh. I quote, “There are no adults in the world who laugh the way that you do.” I mean, whatever. There’s just no comparable feeling, you feel me? I love laughing out loud and throwing self-consciousness to the wind. I love when something’s got me rolling and I’m just making a general scene and people are looking over and smiling or laughing too (I don’t care if you’re laughing at me, actually). It’s impossible to hate your life or be depressed when you can laugh out loud, right?
- I think I’ve included this in both my previous volumes, but: The family I was born into and the family I’ve been lucky to find. My small circle means everything to me, and I’d do anything for them.
- Continually finding and facing challenges. I never want to get caught being complacent. I’m probably butchering the quote, but it’s like that line from “Green Street Hooligans”: Once you’ve taken a few hits and realize you’re not made of glass, you don’t feel alive unless you’re pushing yourself as far as you can go, all the time.
