This is a Good Day

Despite having to get up early from three hours of sleep, despite my throat being so full of plegm because of the 50,000 cubic centimeters of second-hand smoke I've had to inhale this week, despite Nate telling me now that I have to sing tomorrow...today is what we call a Very Good Day.

It's funny, what power one e-mail contains.

I thought summer was suppose to be stress-free...

Today, my dad and I went to the Bellin Health Sports Center to sign me up for summer soccer training. Dad and I have this deal: I try out for soccer, he pays for training. We met my trainer, and he showed us the building, which is amazing. Then, in the middle of the tour, after explaining the muscles I'll need to work on to improve my keeping skills, he said, "Squat." I know I stared at him blankly for longer than I should have, but did as told, because he scares me. "No, you're doing that wrong. You have to use these muscles as keeper, not those. Now do a lunge." So, timidly, because I figured I'd do that wrong too, I did a lunge. "Okay, that's a side lunge. This is a lateral lunge." He continued to show me everything I was doing wrong until, basically, I realized I've been taught nothing right. Not to mention, my trainer reminds me of Mr. Murphy. The whole time, from initial handshake to signing the medical release forms, he did not once crack a smile. When he made jokes, I did not know whether I was allowed to laugh. And he warned me that sessions start on time, as if I was planning on arriving late to something my dad's paying for.
I know trainers are supposed to be tough. That's their job. And this is really important to me. But this is a completely different world than I'm used to. Two years ago, collegiate sports was never anything I considered doing, because I never saw myself as a serious athlete. I was the girl that told her dad that the one-act play was her sport. Now I'm in training. I'm going from "all-nonsense because it's acting" to "no-nonsense because it'll kill you if you actually suck." I'm going from "ask Ashley, she'll know" to "you know nothing, you're at the same level as 14 year-olds." And I'm really worried about my asthma getting in the way. I try not to think about it, but last time I did that, I almost had another bad attack. I can run to the beach from my house, and back, up all the hills, without wheezing now, but can I make it through a game?
8-week session, 2 days a week. My initial assesment is on Monday. I've got to be able to do this.

Haha...Two-faced people make me laugh...

It amazing, the amount of people that didn't like you that suddenly turn around when they find out you're the casting director for the next one-act...

The End of an Era

Yesterday was my last official day of highschool.

It took me three hours to clean out my four lockers (regular, band, soccer, art).

Wow.

It's done.

I don't know whether I should do cartwheels, or become really, really nervous.

Nervous cartwheels, perhaps?

Hmm.

Well, to think positively, now I no longer have to suffer under Tarazona or Persinger's rule, won't have to ask to go get food or go to the bathroom, receive truancy warnings for not wanting to waste my time in AA, or feel obligated to be a leader in...everything.

To think rather negatively, however, as I am prone to do, I no longer have a structured schedule, which means I actually have to plan things and prioritize, both of which I am not very good at doing, I'm leaving a place in which I actually felt masterful in the arts, a place where people actually looked for me for guidance and asked me my opinions so they could make good decisions.

Well, at least Mr. Leahy and my parents think I'm ready.