Thank You Maxwell

Today, Dr. Maxwell Martz told me, “You are embarking on the greatest adventure of your life- to improve your self-image, to create more meaning in your life and in the lives of others. This is your responsibility. Accept it now!”

Well, Maxwell didn’t tell me personally -he died in 1975. BUT I read his expectations in the magical book that Captain gave me and the fact that Maxwell used “You” obviously means he was talking about Me.

Side Note- I recently learned that I was a “Red” personality. I’ve known all along the traits of my personality, but it wasn’t until Tuesday night that I realized personalities have designated colors. According to my results, I seek leadership; I’m controlling, bossy, demanding, I’m self-centered and I consist of every bad trait known to human kind.

After hearing my test results I instantly lied, “No way- that is not me.”

The whole world screamed “Yes, yes it is you conniving little bitch.”

My Red personality obviously explains why I truly believe Maxwell was speaking to ME, but it also explains why I need to take Maxwell’s advice and think up a new strategy for life. I opened my journal and titled the page:

I’m Accepting of My Responsibilities… (and Applications For New Friends)

      
1.      Improve self-image: This was a hard topic to approach. I figured I should start with simple everyday changes and go from there.

a.       Start brushing my hair

b.      Stop stealing the microphone before games and shouting obscene comments at the other team when the coaches aren’t in the gym.

c.       Stop saying my favorite color is “Mexican.” It’s surprising how many people find that offensive.

d.      Start writing useful notes during class, stop writing “I Hate Class” during class, or just stop sitting in the front row because the teachers find my doodles super unpleasant.

e.       Stop using the excuse “I’m an athlete” to get away with wearing sweat pants five days a week.

2.      Create more meaning in my life: Should be easy…

a.       Find faith in God. Or in something other than coffee.

b.      Stop calling people that think I’m funny “Idiots.” Start being thankful for their idiocy.

c.       Write about more things that matter, not about things that are ignorantly hilarious or require more than six curse words to describe.

d.      Do more things that make me laugh, such as attending the on campus dining hall to judge Shepherd’s finest students.

e.       Stop dreaming of realistic aspirations- just get shit done.

f.       Seek to be a Blue Personality- they are nice.

3.      Create more meaning in the lives of others: Should be easier…

a.       Keep talking and gracing the world with my opinions, my beliefs and my wonderful voice.

I have accepted my responsibilities, Maxwell, and I will embrace this life.

The whole thing regarding applications for new friends is simply because my current ones are assholes. They are idiots and they just locked me in the bathroom for 2 minutes and 43 seconds –we’re on a bus. Do you know how small that bathroom is? I started sweating repulsively out of utter embarrassment and because I have Polyps which prohibits my breathing and in small rooms I feel claustrophobic. Also because Red just discovered that Fruit Roll-Ups have tattoos on them and she just tattooed “Got to Give” on her tongue.

3 comments:

1.      I didn’t even know Fruit Roll-Ups were capable of such things.

2.      “Got to Give” what? A blow job? Jesus, we wonder why American Teens are having babies… it all makes sense now, the Fruit Roll-Up in their spider man lunchbox is telling them to “give, give, give”

3.      Her Red hair is annoying.

So over these Kids. Ready to start my new life. Cheers to Maxwell!

I Strive For Excellence

I have the little congestion/ cough thing that’s going around this God awful campus. So, I’ve been up since 6:30 this morning hacking up my lungs and wondering what I’ll do on the five hour bus ride to Concord University this afternoon.  

I envision the trip going as follows…

First seven minutes: chomp down five dolla footlong

Next 53 Minutes: Write romantic love poems

Next hour: shake Red until she wakes up. Then tell her I was bored. She’ll probably say something along the lines of “Fuck off” then I’ll spend the remainder of the hour attempting to sleep.

Hour number three: Envision a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies on my lap, but then settle with snacking on a box of Special K chocolate cereal.

Hour four: Ask repeatedly “How much longer” just to see who will curse me out first. I’m assuming it will be that little bitch, Might-As-Well-Be-Virgin-2… cunt.

Hour five: Write an exaggerated blog about how awesome the bus trip was.

So once I finished planning out my day I started reminiscing on yesterday.

At around noon yesterday, Might-As-Well-Be-Virgin-2 and I realized we had a quiz in Facilities Management at 12:25. Another classmate was in the computer lab with us and chimed in “It’s open note and book.” So we smiled in relief and opened our notebooks to study.

“Fuck”

(FYI, if you haven’t noticed, I have a slight cursing problem. “Bad words” were never an issue in my household- we used the F word as often as “I love you.” Dad likes to tell people I learned the alphabet, Fuck A, Fuck B, Fuck C… and so on.)

Unless Chapter’s 1,2 and 3 were on poetry or pictures of ice cream, we were SOL.

Game time.

20 minutes. Due to lack of friends, we called up our only other companion in class. She happens to be the biggest slacker known to College. She rarely attends class; I seriously think her day consists of tanning, running, and bullshitting. She dropped off her notes and said, “I don’t remember what days I missed, but I have enough.” Surprise, Surprise. God love her.

We now had 12 minutes, so we asked some lady counting money if we could use the teacher’s lounge copy machine. After attempting to say "No", we quickly told her we would just go find a coach for help.

We ran downstairs and found one of our assistants. “Please coach we have ten minutes we need these copied.”

Coach looked at us like we were ruining his morning with our lack of responsibility and complaints.

“Forget it, what’s the password, we’re breaking in.”

Surprisingly, without hesitation, he spouted out a few numbers and as we sprinted back up the stairs he shouted, “I didn’t tell you that!”

Yes you did.

Might-As-Well-Be-Virgin-2 and I walked in to that lounge like we owned that bitch. I put page number one in the machine and started hitting all kinds of buttons. Might-As-Well-Be-Virgin-2 reaches over and slams on the Start button. Success at last… NOT. Page after page after page starts spitting out into the lounge.

I start cursing repeatedly in a steady whisper, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Might-As-Well-Be-Virgin-2 is laughing so hard she starts crying. I attempt to push her out the door and put my hand over her mouth while mumbling “Shut up, Shut up!” her continued obnoxious laugh resulted in me imagining an escape plan. I figured I’d sprint for the back door, down the stairs and right into class where I’d happily fail the quiz, leaving my partner in crime to take the heat… SUCKER.

As I was lifting my leg for take-off, Might-As-Well-Be-Virgin-2 starts slamming on buttons, eventually stopping the machine.

We grab the 83 copies of chapter 1 and decide we’ll at least get 1/3 of the quiz correct.

We sneakily turn the corner out of the teacher’s lounge, with red faces, ready to jolt down the hall.

“COACH!” It was our other assistant coach walking to her office.

“What are you guys doing?”

Cool, calm and innocently, we explained, “we’re about to go to class. But heyyyyyy

Please help us. Please, we have a quiz in four minutes and we need these pages photo copied.”

Out of utter shock and confusion she approached the machine and said “You idiots were about to make 917 copies?”

“That wasn’t us Coach.”

After acing my quiz, the rest of  yesterday was a blur. Although, I did see Black Swan last night and literally had night mares about psycho anorexic dancers all night.

So ready for today.

Keep Going

Red’s old lover is now a high school teacher and he has a quote on his classroom bulletin board that reads, “Something wonderful is about to happen.”

Brilliant.

I am exhausted. I have a Charley Horse that is no longer funny to me because it’s causing simple tasks such as sitting and walking up stairs to be time consuming and painful. I have a broken foot and I no longer remember how pleasing it was to walk –just walk without discomfort. My team and I are at a loss to why we are on a five game losing streak and it hurts.

You know when you feel like you’re giving everything- every ounce of energy and effort and all of your heart, but nothing shows for it? –that’s how I felt. Tonight after the game I felt like I had nothing.

As I was limping into the blistering cold, one of our senior Captains handed me a book she had won along with some athletic award.

She laughed, “You’ll get more use out of it than I will. It’s inspiring quotes and stuff.”

I love quotes and short stories and poems… Captain knew I would be truly thankful for this stupid little five dollar book of bull shit for the sensitive. See, I wasn’t planning on blogging tonight, BUT I came across this quote and I think it’s worth sharing:

 “Don’t give up. Keep going. There is always a chance that you will stumble onto something terrific.”

Terrific or not, it’s worth it. Worth the thrill, the competition, the friends, the little moments, simple things... It’s worth the fight.

“Something wonderful is about to happen.”

I was just getting acclimated to the college lifestyle -being away from my family, growing to love a new family (team) and I struggled, like many, with being a bit homesick, not measuring up to my potential, being self-critical and so on… This is the very first poem I wrote in College… Enjoy J

Questioning

The Alarm clock cracks dreams wide open, singing in rhythm far from art.

6 AM’s come too early, it has me questioning my heart.

I’m always searching for the reason why I stumbled down this path,

And I often ask god this question, but he never answers back.

I bounce a basketball at the command of my hand.

I walk to class, I study hard, and my schedule is set and planned.

But sometimes my thoughts have me playing like a fan,

Frozen on the court, spectating the stands.

I read a letter King wrote from some Birmingham Jail,

He said “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

I know his words were meant for a different endeavor,

But I could relate to his statement on my own kind of level.

Just this past week I started thinking maybe life’s not set in stone,

Maybe God didn’t have a plan for me, maybe he knew I’d make my own.

King has me believing I shouldn’t doubt my routine,

Cause if I start doubting routine, next will be my team.

What’s to question anyway? I have that picture perfect story line,

A mom and a dad and a room that’s all mine.

And dad always told me, there’s no one stronger than we,

So I try to maintain expectation, still there’s weakness in my knees.

I search the past for strength: I’m dreaming back into the forties.

I’m with a group of thirty brown eyed broads, a forced Jewish sorority.

At the command of some man, we carry rusty rods and bricks,

I can smell the sweat and hunger seeping through our blood and skin.

Beep, beep, beep, I’m up before the sun again,

But I’m not hustling like my family did for some Nazi loving man.

I rise in a twin bed at a college, as the fall breeze twirls.

And it hits me that this is it; this is what I’m living for.

Too many times I’ve felt the burden of who I’m supposed to be,

But there’s no weight on my shoulders, they already lifted that for me.

I’m just here to be what the past could only dream,

Why’d it take me so long to see what they could see?

Charley Horse

I can’t walk.

It may seem a bit exaggerated, but with twenty minutes left in practice, a 6’6 Monster kneed me in the thigh and … yes, I had to report to the training room with a serious physical injury known as the “Charley Horse.”

My immediate reaction was to hobble off the court in an obnoxious whining/laughing noise.

PE Teacher: Dude, You're acting like Red when she's drunk..

I ignored her truthful comment and rolled around the sideline, screaming, and covering my face. My coach comes over and says, “Are you happy you got all the attention?”

“Yes” was my response.

I then shut up and proceeded to stand.

The PE Teacher cheered me on with her always encouraging words, “OK Now Do It How U Do It Gone And Walk It Out”

At this point I’m envisioning myself gradually going from a slow walk to a jog and eventually returning with a miraculous run back onto the court.

Me: Alright, here I go…

I began walking with a slight limp. The severe pain was relentless, so I fought back by increasing the pace of my walk… still the limp remained.
PE Teacher: I Said Do It How U Do Gone And Walk It Out...

Me: I’m really trying dude.

I attempt a jog and stop. I attempt again and stop. All the while, I’m cringing my face like I just ate an olive or one of Red’s dinners.

PE Teacher: OK Do It How U Do It Gone And Walk It Out.

Me: Dude I get it… I think it’s gonna be okay.

I proceeded to walk back and forth on the cold unforgiving wooden floor.
PE Teacher: I Say Do It How U Do It Gone And Walk It Out!

I burst into a sprint… fail.

Me: It’s a really fucking bad Charley Horse dude lay off!

After trying to convince my team that this Charley Horse was very severe and not a typical muscle spasm, they left me in the training room with snide comments such as “Pussy” and “How’s the little baby doing?”

Wow, they are really mean girls.

I decided to do a little research on my own. It’s now been over five hours since I got bulldozed over and I can hardly walk. I scream every time I straighten or lift my leg to assure any listeners of the severity of the pain. I also want my roommates to feel bad for me. I mean it kind of worked... I got Chinese food and home baked cookies out of it.

Back to the research.

I looked all over Google, read up on Wikipedia, checked out YouTube videos on “NBA’s best Charley Horses,” ate a bowl of mini-wheat cereal to ponder on my findings, and finally settled on some pretty serious shit.

WebMD: “Muscle spasms will get better with rest and time. The outlook is excellent for most people.”

I just prayed to the Jewish God that I am "Most people"