12.6.13: Smitten

I'm smitten.
Smmiitttennn.
S-m-i-t-t-e-n.
like a kitten...
makes no sense. Just rhymes.
I turn the word over in my mouth,
like chewing pudding.
(You can't do that).

12.5.13: Off

Switch it off.
I said, "Turn it off!"
Blank goes mind-Yoda.
Black. ish.
Do I still care? eh.
Fading.
Emotions fade. It's turning off.
I'm sorry that I don't care.
I used to care.
TOO much.
Sorry.
But not really.
Karma:
treating you the way you treat me.

12.5.13: People

Try to always see the good in people.
That's what momma said.
So I try.
But they always seem to let
me
down.

11.26.13: Favorites

Your favorite color is blue.

Your favorite food is chicken

Your favorite number is five.

Your favorite holiday is Christmas.

Your favorite hockey team is The Islanders.

Your favorite baseball is The Mets.

Your favorite football team is The Giants.

and we all have our favorites,

but my favorite thing

is you. 

11.23.13: Mind Reader

So, I've had a non-stop headache for like weeks now...I've been getting really bad ones lately so I was in my creative writing class and thought, hmmm, I wonder if my headaches mean that I'll be able to read people's minds (doubt it but it might make a good story). So here's my first attempt at writing about super powers:

My head pounds. It’s been going on like this for days now. It hurts so much that my vision goes blurry. I’m losing focus. My balance is failing. Silence. Black.

            My eyes flutter open. What happened? My headache is still here. Why won’t it go away?

            “But Ashley told Jake…” I whip around. I didn’t know other people were here. Why didn’t they wake me up?

            “Hello? Is anyone there?” No one answers me. I’m alone.

            “But if the biological makeup of bitumen…” I thought I was alone.

            “Who’s there,” I repeat. I still receive no answer. What the hell is bitumen? I try to call out for who-ever again. “Who’s Ashley? Who’s Jake? What’s bitumen? Hello?” Silence. Great. I’ve lost my mind. Literally. Still silence. Where are these voices coming from? I press my fingers to my temple and rub in slow, deliberate circles. That doesn’t help. I pinch together the skin between my eyebrows and my nose and I feel the pulsing go through my hand. Pulse, pulse, pulse, beat, beat, beat like my heart.

            My head feels like someone is crushing it between his or her hands. I try to focus on my breathing: in and out, in and out. My focus is beginning to fade; my vision blurs. Silence. Black.

            What’s happening? My eyes begin to focus again. Still alone…or at least I think I am. I need to get out of here. Let me go home. I push myself off of the library couch and grab my backpack. Too much studying…it’s finals week…that’s what’s wrong with me.

            I fling the doors out and walk into the brisk morning. I must’ve spent the night at the library without even realizing it. I keep my eyes concentrated on the sidewalk as people pass me by. They’re all trying to talk to me. I didn’t realize that I knew so many people on campus. But I don’t care what they have to say. And then I realized that they’re all talking to me.

            But I don’t know them. I don’t know him or her or them. Why are they talking to me? Why won’t they stop? Stop talking to me. Please, please stop. I was about to turn to the girl next to me to tell her to shut up when I realized that her lips weren’t moving.

            I couldn’t tell anyone to shut up because no one was actually talking to me. 

11.22.13: Writing, burdens, and focus

I just want to write because its something that I'm good at. I write better than I speak. The Words come easier, but if I make a mistake, all I have to do is erase it. When my pen glides across the page, I feel at peace. It's the only thing in the world that ends up mattering. It's liberating. I'm free. The burdens fall off of my shoulders...
You break my focus. You always break my focus. You're the only one who can break my focus. You should take pride in that.
I catch your eye, but quickly look away, blushing and hiding my eyes back into my notebook. Back to work; back to writing. I have to get the burden's off my chest. Don't break my focus. You're my burden.

I'd like to dedicate this blog post to netflix for always giving me anything to watch.

11.22.13: Shock Value

So, while I was in class the other day, we were doing a poetry workshop. This one girl decided to share a poem that had a word that is considered vulgar in the English language. And even though its spoken in everyday life and somewhat tolerated, to see the word written was a little more than shocking. It sort of disturbed me. So this is my reaction to it...I know it doesn't make a ton of sense but that's kind of the point and in an odd way, I feel like it works here? I'm not sure but I thought I'd share it.

Vulgarity and obscenity in the spoken word
Vs.
Vulgarity and obscenity in the written word.
We may speak but once we see,
we react.
Used to always emphasize our point,
But more so on the page.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
Swing.
Fuck.
Didn’t expect that, did you?

We treat the written word with the respect

we think it deserves.

Or to get our point across.

Whichever comes first.

Whichever is more effective.
Need vulgarity?
Add.
Need obscenity.
Add.
Ass.
Shock Value.
Boom.
Now they’re just random words…
But what if they actually made sense?

11.10.13: Comfort above all else

Okay, so does anyone remember my “train talks” post about Belinda? And her bad shoes? Well, I’ve had a realization today: I am Belinda. As I was standing in line at Starbucks waiting for my medium hot white chocolate mocha, in my black dress with my makeup done, I was Belinda.

On my feet were none other than my brown Uggs. And you might be questioning, why were my Uggs, which didn’t match my outfit at all, on my feet?

Because I had to drive and I hate heels. Comfort always comes first. I’m assuming, for Belinda, it was some sort of the same thing. And just like Belinda, I got the same weird looks that I gave her.

So, Belinda, I’m sorry that I didn’t realize your value for comfort earlier and I salute you. 

11.6.13: Peacemaker

Okay, So I want to take a minute to explain this poem a little bit. The main theme is peace...and maybe you guys can't tell, but I'm hoping that my overall tone comes across as acceptance. I wrote this poem to accept the fact that my grandfather is no longer with us...Although it still sucks, I think that I'm finally accepting it.
It's called peacemaker because I'm making peace with myself that this is what happened but also, as I reflect on my grandfather's life, I realized that he was always the one who kept the peace.
So, this one's for you, big guy. I love you and miss you everyday.

You were our peacemaker.
You held us together.
You stopped the fights.
And although it's taken me seven months to see...
our peacemaker is what you'll always be.

10.31.13: Silence

They say silence is comfortable. They say that you have to be comfortable with the silence. And they also say that if you are comfortable with that silence that it means that you’re comfortable with that person.

But I don’t believe that’s the case. I believe there’s another type of silence. It’s not quite awkward but it’s not comfortable either. It’s the silence that makes you think. It’s the “what is the other person thinking” kind of silence. And it’s awkward and comfortable and strange all at once.

You’re not really sure what to make of it because neither of you are speaking but you’ve been in this situation before. So you just stare out the window, hoping something interesting might pass you by. 

10.30.13: You're Never Around

You’re never around.

I never see you.

I’m not sure what’s to blame:

Your work or your lack of priority?

One separated to two…

Me without you…

Disconnected.

Hanging by a thread.

I’ll hold on (until I’m dead).

10.22.13: Headache

So I wrote this poem the other day for my poetry class and I honestly didn't expect to get a good grade on it because I actually put no effort into it (shhh...don't tell my teacher)! And then, for some odd reason (and by God's grace), my teacher actually loved it and gave me a good grade. So, I've decided to share this poem with all of you. And also, just for clarification, there is no metaphor or simile or anything behind this poem. I literally just had a headache and since it hurt so badly, that's all that I could think about so that's what I wrote about. But yeah, so here it is:

My head pounds
pounds
pounds.
And my thoughts can't focus.
And maybe it'll stop
but then again, maybe it won't.
and they occur too often now.
but they still won't stop.
and my head pounds
pounds
pounds.

10.20.13: Living Lies

Okay, if i'm being completely honest (which I usually am), I really couldn't tell you where the inspiration for this post came from...I hope that you all like it regardless!

“I’d rather live in the lie then accept the truth,” is what she told me. And that’s what she did. Her world wasn’t real…but it was to her. And she was happy. And I never understood how she did it because she seemed fine for the most part.

“Money is no object,” is what she told me. And that’s exactly what it wasn’t. Whatever she wanted, that’s what she got. And I don’t know how she did it because the money never seemed to run out.

“It’s personality,” is what she told me. And that’s exactly what it was. She had this sway about her. People fell mute when she spoke so they could all hear what she had to say. And I don’t know how she did it…there must’ve been sunbeams shooting out from all around her.

But I knew better because I knew her. Underneath the rays of gold that emanated from her, and her dazzling white smile, and those sparkling eyes, there was pain. But I was the only one who knew. I was the only one that she let see.

“It’s starting to get to me,” is what she told me. “I’m starting to lose it. And I just want to lie in bed all day.” And I agreed with her…if only to ease her mind. She couldn’t do it all but she wanted to show the world that she could. And the whole world believed the lie…the perfectly, imperfect lie.

How do you do it all? They always questioned. And she just shrugged, like it was nothing. But it was something. And she knew that she couldn’t do it all on her own, but she was determined…determined to be known, determined to be above the rest, determined to be admired (or envied…whichever came first).

She was drowning slowly, oh so slowly. She felt immobile. And I didn’t know how to help her. So I held her tight and I told her I’d be there. She knew I would be.

We parted ways. I told her to stay strong. But before I left, I stole one last look at her and watched the girl who believed her own lie…I called out to her:

“I’d admire you. I’d think you could do it all.” And she smiled her brilliant smile, and it reached her eyes. She mouthed a “thank you” and I nodded at her. And then I watched her walk away, almost wishing that I had a lie of my own. 

10.20.12: Stuck

I'm helpless and I'm stuck.
I'm undeniably, unconditionally, and unfortunately in love with you.
My heart swells with hope and then
my heart deflates
when I realize that
I'm not
the
one.
But oh how badly do I want to be that one.
It's all that I want.
You tell me that I assume too much.
But I think this is right.
Because that sparkle isn't in your eyes anymore;
there is no more light.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSg9RDS1A1Q

10.12.13: A Friend

            Every time that I hear the church bells chime, a shiver goes through my body…and he’s the only thing that I remember.

            Every seat was filled; people were standing; the church had reached its capacity.

            Too many questions had been unanswered but there was one thing that I was sure of: I needed to be there.

            The pain was overwhelming and the tears came easily because why wouldn’t they? They were all for him. 

            I hadn’t seen her in a year now but she looked the same to me. She was wearing white. I didn’t have time to wonder if I looked the same to her. I was wearing black. My steps were quick and deliberate because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle being in that place…and then it struck me how this place of worship could also be this place of misery.

            I was the first one to give her a hug. She didn’t see me until I was three feet in front of her but after she saw me, for the first time, I saw her face brighten just a little bit and I smiled back weakly, if only to make her smile last a little bit longer.

            “What are you doing home? I thought you were supposed to be at college,” she whispered.

            And then with my voice cracking, I responded as evenly as possible, “I just figured that you could use a friend.” She looked at me for a second before throwing her arms around my neck. I pulled her in tight, and then even tighter, afraid that I might lose her, too.

            “Yeah, I did,” she sobbed into my hair. And then I held her. And she held me. And I’m not sure how long we stayed like that. It was a long time before she said something again. I breathed in her hair and we both cried, silently consoling each other.

            “I needed this hug. I’ve missed your hugs. I’ve missed you,” she whispered. I choked out a sob-laugh as we released our embrace.

            “I’ve missed you, too,” I whispered while I wiped my eyes and tried to smile. “I’m so sorry…I wish that I could’ve seen you under better circumstances.” She nodded at me.

            “I’m honestly so shocked that you came home, though. I wasn’t expecting that at all. Thank you so much for always being there. You’re one of those friends where I don’t have to talk to you everyday but I know that I can still count on you for everything. That means so much…. Thank you for coming today. You have no idea how much that meant.” And then, gesturing to her white dress, she added, “Do you like my white dress? I knew he would be so mad if I wore black today. He’d never let me wear black if he were here.” And then she smiled and looked up toward Heaven and my eyes followed hers. I didn’t know how to answer her so I simply nodded and said:

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise you. I knew you’d need a friend.” 

For Colin. 9.17.13.

9.29.13: T.O.D. Time Management

So, today we’re going to talk about irresponsibility because that’s what 98% of college students are.

Granted, I am one…so maybe I don’t have the room to talk but it has recently come to my attention that the lack of responsibility has become greater and greater.

First of all, I’d like to further your knowledge on my background. I am part of six on-campus clubs and organizations, as well as a Division1 athlete, I also work as a student-volunteer in my athletic department and I babysit at least three nights a week.

With that being said, it PEEVES me when I hear someone tell me that they can’t come to work because “they have homework to do.” Let’s all be honest, it’s a Sunday; you don’t have any homework. Nor do you plan on doing any homework. We all know that you’re hung-over. We’re not stupid.

Also, it won’t make or break you to take two hours out of your day to come to work…maybe if this were finals week…But it’s not.

You signed up and gave a commitment and now you have other people, people like me, who you expect to cover your crap. Good looks, kids. Good looks.

Words can’t express my disappointment in these people. Learn to time-manage. 

9.19.13: Colin

I'm a god damn mess.
It's not your fault.
But now you're just a statistic,
striped of your joyful uniqueness.
And I wish you were still here.
Because we all miss you so much.
and it hurts...but you knew hurt, didn't you?
and I wish you had told me.
and I wish I had known.
But now you're my angel.
and how lucky am I that I
have you to look over me?

9.18.13: Longing

And how selfish of me to think that

I can make you bend to me…

Except all I need right now is you.

But you have your own agenda, as you should.

But all I need right now is you.

And my heart aches and it longs for you.

But I can’t ask that of you.

And the words are on the tip of my tongue,

Ready to ask you to stay…

But I bite down hard,

Letting you go your own way. 

9.18.13: Ghosts

I pinched together the skin between
my eyebrows and my nose
to stop the pounding.
And then I could feel his hand touch
my shoulder and he whispered to me,
"Why? Why are you doing that?"
As if he were actually there.

9.10.13: Trouble

And I'm in trouble now
because you've got my heart
and I see no end in sight.
And that scares me now
because I can't afford to lose you
and I might.
And I'm too invested now
because I love too big
and all my efforts go to you.
And I love you now
because you're everything that I've ever wanted
and I'm scared that I'm not enough to keep you here.
And I'm in trouble now
because you've got my heart
and I see no end in sight.

9.6.13: Punishment Sprints

Okay, so once again, this semester, I'll be taking a writing course and luckily for all of you, it actually might be relevant to this blog! It's a creative writing poetry course so basically every time I have an assignment, you'll all get to see what I'll be submitting for a grade...so please; let's hope that I do well.
Here is my first poem of the semester, titled: Punishment Sprints.
For a brief overview of what my poem is about, my coach has made my team run for the entire practice for the past three days. We haven't picked up our lacrosse sticks all week. Hopefully, you can all see the imagery that I'm trying to illustrate here:

Hot sun. Burnt shoulders.
Sweat dripping everywhere.
Short, shallow breaths, gasping for air.
On the endline, we all line up, waiting for the next whistle.
Crouched low like a panther, ready to fire our muscles.
Blinking as if in slow motion;
its over before it began.
Exhaustion is slowly setting in.
I glance up at the clock: two hours have passed.
On the endline, we all line up, waiting for the next whistle.

8.28.13: TOD

            First of all, I should absolutely be in bed right now. But I’m not. So here’s my TOD:

What do you do when you feel like you’re losing control of everything around you…and everything you once loved seems to be leaving you? And everything that was once easy is now difficult…then what do you do?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nN6VR92V70M

8.26.13: So That's Why Chivalry is Dead...

            So, for most of us, we spent last night watching the VMA’s…which also means that we spent the majority of the VMA’s watching Miley Cyrus “twerk” and embarrass herself all over the stage…and then for the rest of the night, we were left wondering why that performance was even allowed to be aired on television.

            What does the poor girl think she’s doing? Where are her parents?! Bring back Hannah Montana. Liam, we’re all sorry for your loss (of what Miley used to be). It’s very clear now that she’s no longer with us.

            If you missed it, here it is:

*Disclaimer: I couldn’t get through the entire thing…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufKvLtTbbSA

Miley Cyrus, in her glory days of Hannah Montana, was, in my opinion, the epitome of adorable. Little girls looked up to her. Hell, I looked up to her and I was 17. I would make sure I caught every episode (I have no shame). The Miley that we all know, and now hate, is just a shell of that cute, little girl we all used to know and love.

            Girls wonder why all the boys think that they can treat us poorly…well, here’s your answer. I’m not saying Miley Cyrus is the reason…there’s too many people in the world and despite the fact that her followers are mindless, she doesn’t actually control them (unless she does…but us regular, normal people will never know the truth).

            The way Miley displayed herself last night at the VMA’s was not only embarrassing for herself, but to be completely honest, I was embarrassed to be a girl. I was raised to carry myself with elegance and poise (and no, I’m not a southern Belle; I’m from the East Coast) and Miley did not exude one lady-like quality last night. To be honest, she hasn’t regarded being lady-like for years now.

            Girls, I am begging you, please, please, PLEASE, respect yourself and I promise that the boys will respect you, too. 

8.13.13: M.A.P.

My best friend and I are starting our own business. Here's the Facebook link if you're interested. Please go like our page! Thank you <3

https://www.facebook.com/marisaashleyproposals

8.12.13: TOD

"I like what I know and I know what I like" makes for a very narrow-minded view of life.

8.12.13: Just Keep Smiling

            The car’s engine roared underneath us but I hardly heard it. He slipped his free hand into mine and squeezed it tight. I breathed in, closed my eyes, smiled, and breathed out. Everything was right in the world.

            “You look beautiful,” he whispered. I felt my cheeks flush. I leaned forward in my seat to look up at the sky. The stars seemed brighter tonight.

            “Where are we going?” I asked. He wouldn’t tell me. It was a surprise.

            “You’ll see.” He pulled my hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss. I didn’t ask again.

A half an hour later, we were pulling up to an adorable little house with a white picket fence.

“Where are we?” I questioned. He hesitated so long that I wasn’t sure that he’d heard me.

“My grandmother’s.” The shock on my face was clearly apparent. I thanked God that it was almost 9 o’clock at night; there was no way that he’d be able to see it.

I wasn’t expecting this.

It was overwhelming.

I was comfortable. Let me clarify: I’m awkward. I get nervous around families. I did not get nervous once. They made me feel like I belonged. Did I belong? He seemed so content.

He showed me a new side of himself today. And although it was a side that he deemed completely regular, it was something completely new for me. And I was amazed by it. And I wish I could thank him for allowing me into that part of his life…considering that I hadn’t shown or had the chance to reciprocate the action.

I looked over at him, speaking to his uncle, and was struck by an overwhelming swell in my chest that made me want to cry tears of joy. I intently watched him and was amazed by his poise and the way that he carried himself. He seemed mature and when he looked over at me and smiled, my heart sped up.

I needed to get out of there.

The feeling in my chest expanded and then a new emotion started to appear. I was proud. I was proud that he had picked me. I was proud that I was sitting there, with his entire family, as if it had happened a million times before. And I was proud of our relationship and all that we worked on.

If I could’ve, I would’ve started crying right there. Emotions flooded my body from all sides. On the inside, I was bursting with love and the feeling of being loved. On the outside, I smiled as if none of this had ever just gone through my head. 

8.4.13: TOD

Things are always much better in my head. Having a creative mind...a gift or a curse? You decide.

8.2.13: 31 Heroes

Hey, Guys! Okay, so for those of you who read my blog on the reg (THANK YOU SO MUCH FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART IF YOU DO), you already know that I’m a D1 lacrosse player. For those of you who don’t read my blog on the reg, welcome to my blog! But anyway, like I mentioned, I play D1 lacrosse.

Contrary to popular belief, sometimes I hate working out. So, I’ve found a solution. CrossFit. It is very safe to say that I’m obsessed. Anyway, I know it’s a little bit short notice but tomorrow I will be taking part in an event that was designed to honor the 30 men and 1 dog that lost their lives on August 6, 2011.

The idea behind it is that they had to suffer for weeks and months on end and we only have to suffer for 31 minutes. It’s kind of a crossfitter’s tribute to the 31 fallen.

I’ve included the website below so you guys can get a little bit better of an understanding of what I’ll be doing tomorrow morning at 7:45am. My explanation wouldn’t do it justice.

Like I said, I know that it’s short notice but if you guys can find it in your hearts to donate; my gym, the families of these 31 heroes, and I would greatly appreciate it.

If I can even type after the workout tomorrow, I’ll report back.

Thank you so much to each and every one of you! Wish me luck!

http://www.31heroes.com/

https://www.facebook.com/31Heroes

8.2.13: T.O.D.

Ohmahgerd. It.is.August (aka I go back to college soon...24 days to be exact)...But let's not talk about that just yet. I finally just got the keys to my new apartment so I'm obviously having a mental stress-down (breakdowns, in this current situation, does not apply because I haven't reverted to tears yet...just a lot of freaking out and me misplacing basically everything. Oh, and shopping. Because how else are you supposed to deal with stress? Shopping is a cure-all. Also, make-up. Because sometimes you just need to say, "hey, I'm pretty and all of this other stuff sucks but so what? Today, I'm just pretty." And trust me, sometimes getting myself together in the morning is a task in itself. La di da. Whatever. Okay. I should probably close these parentheses now). 

Well, now that I’ve taken up enough of your time with my rambling, here is my thought of the day:

The key to life is happiness but the key to happiness is love. 

7.24.13: TOD: Rush Hour

            So…this week…

I’m coaching at a lacrosse (obviously…because what else do I do with my life) camp. Since I live locally, my lucky butt gets to get itself up super early to teach super adorable Kindergarteners how to play the fastest game on two feet (P.S.—I didn’t make that up; It really is called the fastest game on two feet. I dunno where that came from).

            Anyway, some of you may be familiar with such a thing called rush hour? Well, I am not. But, after three days, I think I may have got this rush hour traffic thing kind of down:

1.     Get up and leave earlier than you have to. NO.MATTER.WHAT. Tired? SO WHAT. Suck it up and go get yourself a latte from Starbucks.

2.     Eat breakfast before you leave. Driving on an empty stomach is terrible. Driving on an empty stomach while you aren’t moving even though you’re supposed to be moving due to rush hour traffic is like terrible being on steroids. You.will.want.to.bang.your.head.against.your.steering.wheel.

3.     Rush hour is inevitable. You will hit traffic (unless you leave ungodly early…at like 5am…then I think you’re safe…but that also depends on your commute. For your sake, reader person, I hope that you don’t have a long commute).

4.     The road is filled with idiots. I wish I were kidding about this one but just like the world, the roads have their fair share of idiots. Assholes, too (but I was trying not to curse so I was going to leave that one out…. But I really just couldn’t because it’s too true. Oops. Oh, well.). Don’t be one of those said-idiots. I beg of you (no, seriously. I will literally get down on my knees and beg right now.). Don’t text, for the love of God use your blinkers, and make sure you have a banging playlist to rock out to.

5.     The middle lane is your best friend. The fast lane just plain sucks. If you're in the slow lane, and someone is coming onto the highway, PLEASE LET THEM IN. Think about how you would feel if you were trying to get onto the highway and some jerk wouldn't let you merge. Then you'd be forced into the trees. Don't be that guy who forces other drivers into the trees. 

6.     Patience is a virtue.

7.22.13: Stay (Multiple POV)

So I just got the Florida Georgia Line Cd and there was one song on there called "Stay" that I fell in love with. Naturally, it inspired a blog post.

Lindsey:           

Tears were steaming down my face. I tried to focus on his face but my vision was too blurred. I couldn’t do this…not to him. But I had to. I shook my head.

            “Linds…?” Of course he was trying to make sure that I was okay. Of course. And of course the last thing I was right now was okay. I shook my head at him again. No. Just no. “I love you,” he whispered.

            My sobs came harder. I couldn’t do this right now.

            “I love you, too,” I managed to choke out.

            “But…” he pushed.

            “But…I deserve better,” I whispered. The shock on his face was apparent and I felt like I was being suffocated. “I can’t, Dylan. I just can’t.”

Dylan:

            What was Lindsey saying to me right now? Was she breaking up with me? No. That couldn’t be happening.

But it was.

            “I deserve better,” she whispered. It felt like I’d be slapped. Her words were laced with truth. And the worst part about it was that I didn’t realize it until now. How stupid could I have been?  

            “What?” Was all I could manage to get out.

            “I can’t keep putting all of this effort in when you don’t do anything for me. I can’t keep waiting for you. Because the longer I wait, the more I break inside. And I just can’t do that to myself.” Her sobs were almost uncontrollable at this point. I didn’t know what to do. She went to go turn away from me. I reached for her hand. I couldn’t let her go. I just couldn’t. She stopped for a moment to turn to look back down at our hands. I felt a sliver of hope course through my body. But within moments, she slid her hand out of mine.

            And with that, she was walking away from me and there was nothing that I could do about it.            

            I was breaking into a million tiny pieces.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qsdq6SobWEA 

7.20.13: Reality Check

I felt like I’d been slapped. I actually put my hand to my face to make sure that it didn’t really happen. It stung like it had.

            His words rang in my ears and shock was clearly plastered on my face. He’d never spoken to me like that before. The worst part, though, was that it wasn’t mean; it was the truth.

            I didn’t know how to respond…so I didn’t. I walked away. I don’t know if he watched me go or if he turned his back on me, too, but either way, he didn’t come after me.

            That was okay, though. I didn’t want him to. 

Although this may not seem like it, this post is actually dedicated to one of my best friends. Sometimes (okay, most of the time), I need a reality check. He's not afraid to put me in my place and tell me when I'm being ridiculous.

Thank you, Jonathan...for keeping me in line, for always being there for me, for supporting my ice cream addiction, and mutually sharing my love for Taylor Swift. 

7.20.12: Memories

            I made him write for me.

            “I’ve never felt this way before,” he scribbled across my page in a messy script. My heart skipped and hope swelled inside of it like a balloon only to be quickly quieted by my head. No. That wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t want this…but it was being handed to me on a silver platter and that was difficult to ignore. His eyes searched mine and I felt my face flush. I looked away from him to the floor. He placed the pen on the table in front of me and shrugged his shoulders as if that was the best that he could do.

            He turned to leave and I let him. I watched him go and I thanked god for not letting him stay a moment longer.

            My mind flashed back to days earlier when he’d told me that he loved me. He knew that I didn’t feel the same. But he’d told me anyway.

            “And I don’t care if you think that it’s too soon but it’s how I feel. And you don’t have to say it back. But I want you to know.” And from that moment on, he always let me know. It made my stomach churn and I tortured him for a full month before I said it back. He never complained.

            It was sort of new to me: being wanted. He adored me. I hadn’t the slightest idea how I'd won his affections and I was in too dumbfounded a state to ask regardless.

            His love made me dumb. I let the balloon inside my heart grow and grow. He talked so animatedly about us, our future, that I was easily sucked in.

            Stupid.           

            I shook my head, clearing these memories and looked back down at the sheet of paper on my desk. One word, written in my own script, stood alone on the sea of white page: James. 

7.20.13: Nightmares

I tossed and turned until I was finally jolted from my sleep…or lack there of.

            The beds were hard and a sheet of paper would’ve been more comfortable than the sheets that were supposed to be designed to keep me warm at night. I shivered in response to that.

            My head swam, trying to make sense of what was reality and what was my dream. They’d been coming so vividly recently that they were difficult to ignore.

            I shook my head and wiped a few escaped tears away from my eyes. The sun shone in onto the grey-colored room walls making them seem slightly less…gray.

            My heart ached. How many days had it been? I counted on my hand. Too many. 

7.19.13: The Selection

            So, I’ve been in Spain for the past two weeks aka no blog posts. But, luckily, while I was there, I started reading a book called “The Selection,” by Kiera Cass. I cannot put it down. I’m not even a quarter through it and I love it.

            This book is a modern day fairy tale fused with the hunger games minus the gore and maybe with a little bit of Nicholas Sparks.

            Since I’m not too far into the book yet, I’ve decided to write down what I think will happen within the upcoming chapter(s). All characters, personalities, scenarios, places, etc. are strictly the wonderfully talented Kiera Cass’. If you’d like to find out what really happens…? Read her book. I highly recommend it.

            We were lined up, our poofy dresses bumping into one another. Orders were being barked at us; mainly things along the lines of, “as the TV monitor passes, smile like you’re in love with Prince Maxon.” I rolled my eyes at Sylvia, who was always teaching us our etiquette. How could I pretend that I was in love with Maxon? I haven’t even met his majesty yet. The viewing was the first time that we were meeting Maxon, he was meeting us, and the world was seeing the selection. Getting to knowing him alone would be exhausting considering I didn’t want to get to know him. Love him? Yeah, doubt it. That was basically like saying, “you and Aspen are going to live happily ever after and be perfectly content living in a lower caste.” That was never going to happen now. Especially since I was a three thanks to the selection and he was still a six. Plus he’d broken up with me before I even got my butt hauled all the way up here. The thought of Aspen sent a pang throughout my chest. I still loved him.

            But I didn’t have time to think about that right now. The man behind the camera, I’d already forgotten his name, was pointing at his mouth, indicating for us to smile. I looked to my left and then to my right where the rest of the 34 girls were adjusting smiles on their faces. I noticed Celeste, looking especially devious this morning. What had I gotten myself into?

            The doors to the Great Room swung open and in walked Maxon followed by the King and Queen. Maxon looked as stiff and rigid as he had when they first announced the selection. Could he be nervous? No. He was the prince, of course not. I pushed the thought out of my head.

            As Maxon began moving toward us, the TV monitors focused on him. I was grateful. The muscles in my face were starting to ache. My smile dulled a little out of pure exhaustion (I don’t know if I’ve ever smiled so long before).

            Maxon moved down the line, analyzing and judging each and every one of us. It was disgusting. I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

            When he got to me, though, he paused and did a double take. It must’ve been my red hair. He reached out to me, offering his hand. Because I could not deny any request of the prince (a rule of the selection), I placed my hand in his. He bent down and gently placed his lips to the back of my hand. 34 heads, along with every TV monitor in the room, whipped in my direction. I tried to conceal the blush playing at my cheeks and the shock that covered my face. I could just see mom gaping at the TV. and May would surely be squealing happy things about how Maxon and I were going to fall in love. Dad would be smiling behind his newspaper. And Aspen…? What would he do…?

            Before it had even started, it was over and Maxon's lips were leaving my hand. I blinked my eyes a couple of times, unsure if it were real or not. I didn’t collect my thoughts until Maxon had already proceeded to move down the line. He showed a couple of other girls favor with a caress of their face or a nod…but not one was kissed like I had been. 

            For the first time since aspen had let me go, I felt something inside of me and it welled up like a balloon in my heart: hope. That split second made me feel special again and maybe, just maybe, I could win this thing. 

7.13.13: TOD

How, when one has (or seemingly has) everything, can they yearn for more? And even more concerning, why is the nature of humans to continually want?

6.30.13: T.O.D

My boyfriend came to visit me this weekend and it really made me realize how lucky I am to have him in my life. For all of you girls out there (guys, too), please make sure that you're with someone who thinks they're as lucky to have you as you are to have them. Make sure they treat you like you're their world. Be sure that they respect, support, and understand your opinions, thoughts, and feelings. Communicate, compromise, and always work together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X5_CvRH1F7U

(Louis, if you're reading this, I apologize for being sappy...and allowing all of the internet to see this freely. As you would say, ANYWHO, I love you. Thank you again for making the long drive).

6.30.13: T.O.D.

So, this summer I coached an elite lacrosse team (it was actually my old club team). This was my letter to the girls before our tournament this weekend. We went 4-0. They're 6th graders. 

Hi Team,

As you already know, I’ll be going to Spain from July 4-16 and will therefore have to miss our last tournament together. Unfortunately, I booked my trip before I knew that I would be coaching so it’s impossible for me to change the dates (If I could, I most definitely would).

With that being said, I just wanted to take some time to say Thank You. Thank you for accepting me as your coach and taking in all of the information that I’ve taught (or that I’ve tried) to teach you; Thank you for always putting your best foot (or cleat) forward and always giving me 100%; And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making my first coaching experience something that I’ll never forget.

This group of girls has definitely had an impact on my life. Even though it was my job to teach you, you’ve all taught me a couple of things, too. You’ve taught me that I’m not always smarter than a 6^th grader; and that Meg can beat me in a sprint; but you’ve also taught me that the love of the game still exists and the strive to succeed is your most trusted ally.

Whether we were winning four games in a row and making it to the quarterfinals at Lax By The Sea or making up a dance during the last half hour of practice for our Maryland tournament that we never actually finished or performed, you girls always knew how to put a smile on my face. Every Tuesday and Thursday, my favorite part of the day was when I was in my car, heading to practice.

Each and every one of you is so special and so talented.  I can’t even begin to tell you all how proud I am of all of you but if you want an idea, just know that I brag about this team like it’s my job to basically everyone (no shame).

So I’ll leave you with this: Don’t ever let anyone dull your sparkle. Keep striving, keep excelling, and keep believing…because I believe in each and every one of you.

If I could pick any other team, I wouldn’t.

Look out for each other.

My last practice with you is July 2. Klondike bars for all.

If anyone ever needs any advice, lacrosse or otherwise; has any questions; or just needs to reach me, my email and cell are at the end of this email.

Let's make Lax by the Cure a tournament to remember and let's show all of Jersey who the real team is (Steps doesn't have anything on us). I'll see everyone tomorrow at 5 for practice and get ready for Friday. Let's kick some butt. 

Coach Marisa