At last the day has come to end this annual tradition. I can’t help but feel relieved by the thought of no longer reminding myself constantly to write. This match has been one of the most overwhelming in a long time, and the writing I used to love no longer seems as riveting. Next year maybe I will have a better grip on the reality that is high school, and the SOLSC can once again become my favorite past times. This is Julia signing over and out.
No matter how many times it happens my heart breaks every time. As my mood sinks I realize just what has happened. I am upset because something that I offered to do is taking away from going out for dinner. There is no reason for my feelings, and I will now attempt to raise my spirits and continue the day.
As I turned around, an overwhelming feeling of disappointment shot through me. The one shot that could have ended the game then and there was beyond my reach, and I knew it should have been an easy one. While I thought of all the things I could have done differently, one sound came from directly in front of me. My teammates and coaches were standing there cheering me on. It created a new energy that fueled me on to victory. Next, it would be my turn to do the same.
Every complicated recipe I have tried has been a success. Wether it took hours or had 20 steps made no difference. Yet, through all this, I can not make quality rice. Each time I try, something different ends up wrong. It’s too hard, overcooked, dry, soggy, or just plain gross. Today I decided to give it one last try; I promised myself if it did not go well I would give into the curse of anti-rice and not try anymore. To my entire family’s surprise, the rice turned out perfect. I have defeated the demon holding me back from numerous recipes, and it feels good.
Every person around me was either covered from head to toe or shivering like Chihuahuas. Our first cold outdoor tennis day was not exactly a success. After pretending we weren’t cold in just a skirt at t-shirt, we all ran to grab the nearest coat and sweatpants. Our only hope was that the bundles of warmth were our own. Fingers turned purple; ears turned red; the sky remained gray. Yet as we pushed through the cold that spread all the way to our brains, competition relied on instinct, and we truly saw who wanted it the most.
I waited all week for today to come. A day of baking is the only therapy this girl needs. All the stresses of both past and future fade away, and the food becomes the most important thing. Time passes quickly as meals come together for the week ahead. I finish stir fries, casseroles, and breads until I finally reach my favorite part: dessert. Today’s agenda featured peanut butter cookies for the tennis team. Now, the only thing left to do is find my next free day to do it all again.
Mom and I started the day with only one plan; have fun away from stress. Unfortunately “stress” is interchangeable with “Dad and my brother”. After sleeping until noon, we finally left the house– headed for an Irish performance and the craft show in town. The performance was thoroughly enjoyed, but our expectations were far too high for the craft show to live up to. Discouraged, we made a big decision of what to do with our day
“Well, we can head home and get some work done,” my mom suggested,” but I am really not feeling it today.”
“How about Chinese?” I supplied, grasping for any more time to ourselves out of the house.
“Sounds like a plan!” She agreed, and we were off.
After stuffing ourselves to the point of exhaustion, we still didn’t want the day to end. A trip to the dollar store seemed like the perfect time-filler to drag out the stress free day. We closed our day with a quick walk through Meijer, and of course, some Culvers.
As we drove home I reflected on the simple but amazing qualities today had to offer. There is no time better spent than time with my mom.
For weeks before this day I have had an idea of how it would go. I would watch the movie without actually seeing much due to the incredible amount of gore. For a reason I can not figure out, it went nothing like that. I fully enjoyed every second. Maybe my newfound tolerance stemmed from age, maturity, or experiences. Any way it came about, the experience was truly marvelous.
There are certain aspects of life that seem much more daunting than others. Today, my future became a main aspect of my thoughts. People all want different things for my life. Some hope that I will become a star athlete, others, a star student. Everyone expects 100% focus, but it is becoming very hard. The decisions I make affect my entire future. I hope I make the right ones.
My brain surges as I move through the work I needed to complete. Every fiber of my being urged me to move in any direction possible. The world around me continued at a constant pace, yet I was on overdrive. In an attempt to pump myself up for the tennis practice 2 hours in advance, I made the mistake of pep-talking myself full of energy. Usually, this technique gets me just excited enough to be a willing participant, but today it had monstrous effects. My toes tapped, head swam, and heart beat. I was powerless to stop it. But did I really want to?