Hello my name is Shannon and I am NOT an alcoholic

So I was reading my friend Ciaran's livejournal post ( http://radaromalley.livejournal.com/150028.html) and it inspired me to write about a little thing that is going on between my and my brother right now. Ciaran mentioned how he was pissed off that his aunt (whom he dislikes immensely - but based on what he has said about her in other posts I would say he is 100% right) mentioned that everytime she saw him at a recent family party, he had a beer in his hand.

So back to me. My younger brother and I keep in touch mostly through text messages. Lately, it seems that whenever he sends me a text message, I am hanging out with friends having a beer (or twelve.) For the past two weeks he has been on my case about it, saying that he doesn't understand why I seem to be drinking so much lately. I find this absolutely hysterical. But at the same time, I am upset by it.

The main factor in all of this is that our dad is a recovering alcoholic. He has been sober for about 2 years now if not more. So it is something that we all tend to worry about. That is the reason why at the age of 18 I made a conscious decision to stop drinking. I had started drinking when I was 15. It was never a big deal and I certainly never drank enough to get me drunk. But when I found myself at a party with two drinks in my hand, all alone on the front porch of my friends house, crying about the boy who had just dumped me a few hours before (Greg for those of you that are wondering) I decided that drinking was not the way to handle the situation. So I stopped. I did not have another drink until I was 21.

Since that time I have been very conscious of my drinking. I know all the signs of alcoholism. And I look for them. I have never blacked out. I don't need a drink to function. I don't need a drink to have a good time. Drinking has never affected my job. These are all the most common signs and if I saw any of these I would take the appropriate action to get help because I don't want to live the life my dad led as a drunk.

Morgan - believe me when I say there is nothing to worry about. I don't drink all the time. Once a week maybe. And I certainly do not get shit faced. I have a few beers, hang out with friends, watch sports, play pool and just have a good time. Please do not worry about my drinking. If you want to worry about something - worry about why I have not had a true boyfriend since (groan) Greg.

So I will say it again - My name is Shannon and I am NOT an alcoholic.

I am not a girlie girl

After work tonight I went out to my local bar, PT's Gold, with some of my friends. As is typically the case lately, I was the only single person in the group. So it's me, Brooke & Guy, and Mark & Michelle. I hate this situation. The wives get together to talk about houses and grooming, etc. and the husbands branch off to talk about sports and movies and things of that nature. Well I am expected to talk girlie things with the girls. Can we say BORING!! I am sorry, but we obviously have different interests. Don't get me wrong, I love everyone I was with this evening, but I don't want to feel bad because I would rather play pool with the guys and watch the Yankee game than talk about purses. The whole point is that I want to go out and have some fun. Playing pool is fun. Making small talk about irrelevant subjects is not. At least not after a long week. I guess this is part of the reason why my best friends in the world are guys.

Whatever. It's time for this fifth wheel to get some sleep. I have an early day tomorrow.

The Commonly Confused Words Test

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Waiting Hoping

The space behind my back where you should be
It's empty and cold without you there sharing your warmth
One arm slung over my hip; the other a pillow for my head
Encasing me in your love; Making me feel protected
I want that back; I want us
curling together in peaceful sleep
I only have to wait a short while longer
But it feels like the time will never come
A few weeks more, sleeping alone
without the comfort that you give me
I just hope that when I get there
You will still be waiting for me
With open arms, welcoming me back

I knew

I didn't know what to think
When I first saw you across the way
I couldn't figure you out
But my curiosity was pricked
I saw you later that night
You made me laugh
And I knew

We talked some more
You made me smile
When I got cold
You gave me your jacket
Warming my soul
And I knew

We joked
We teased each other
smacking the other playfully
And then the night was over way too soon
And I knew

I needed to call you
I couldn't let it end
I reached out to you
You welcomed me
And I knew

Our fun continued through the evening
And when I was upset, scared and freaking out
You comforted me
You calmed me down
You cared for me
And I knew...

What's Your Star Wars Horoscope

Star Wars Horoscope for Aquarius

You can be cruel and torment people who disagree with you. Deep down, there is a peace-loving, friendly side to you. You have a knack for inflicting pain on people and use your intellect during battle. Star wars character you are most like: Darth Vader

What is Your Star Wars Horoscope?

Yes I am a dork!!! I got this from a friend's blog and thought why not. But Darth Vader? That just isn't right!

A little Monday night paranoia

I have no idea what is going on with me lately. I am crying at the drop of a hat for no reason at all. And it makes no sense at all.

Just a little backstory for you, I have suffered from episodic depression since I was in high school. Basically it is something that I have learned to live with for the past eleven years. It was especially bad during high school and college, being partly responsible for my cutting, almost failing out of college when I couldn't get out of bed, and various episodes of mild paranoia/panic attacks. But (with the exception of the panic attacks) since I have been living in Las Vegas all of my symptoms have lessened. Until now. I just don't get it. I thought that all my "bad periods" as I call them, had links to drama in my life. But there really isn't any drama right now.

Here is the other thing though. In December of 2001 I went to the gyno, where they discovered that I had polyps. This was some cause for concern, since left untreated polyps can be a precursor of cancer. After they biopsied the sample that was taken in the office, they diagnosed me with endometrial hyperplasia with atypia. This basically means that I have an imbalance of estrogen & progesterone (too much estrogen, not enough progesterone), which causes my uterine walls to thicken. The "atypia" refers specifically to abnormal cells in that lining. So anyway, when they found the atypia the decided course of action was a dilation & curettage (D&C). A D&C is when the doctor forces (ouch) your cervvix to dilate by gradually inserting ever increasing instruments that stretch it open, then they scrape the excess lining out of the uterus using what I refer to as the really big spoon. (D&C's are commonly used during abortions, which is where you may have heard the term before - not that I am implying that you have had an abortion - just that you haven't been living under a rock and therefore may have heard the term.)

So, on Friday December 21, 2001 I took the day off of work to have a D&C. (Why did I do it so close to Christmas? Well, my boss at the time was a complete bitch and she didn't want to give me anytime off, so since I had off Monday and Tuesday anyway due to the holiday I just took advantage of it.) The day before I called the doctor in a panic since I got my period. To my surprise my doctor told me that it was actually better that I did. This is due to the fact that when you have your period your cervix dilates a little and therefore mine wouldn't have to endure too much forcing.

Surgery went fine and once I got home and had something to eat I was in fine form. The only bad part was that they wouldn't let me leave until I used the bathroom. In a bedpan. In the recovery room. With people all around. And only a flimsy curtain blocking me from view. That was NOT gonna happen. After a while they moved me into the outpatient recovery area, where they at least let me use a real bathroom. (For those of you who have not tried - peeing in a bedpan is nearly impossible - there is something to be said for having your feet on the floor.) And then once I proved that I could pee I was released.

There was a point to this backstory which relates to the original story. And that is that when I went in to get my results I asked my doctor if the unbalanced hormones could have factored into my depression and mood swings. He said that they are completely unrelated. I don't know. I really wonder if it is possible, but then again I barely passed biology so what do I know? All I do know is that I need to get this stuff under control. And this blog helps.

It's official

Please disregard most of my posts for the past week as they are all a direct result of my faithful friend PMS.

Clarification

I have been meaning to blog this for quite some time now but other things have taken priority lately.

**EDITED**

Don't read this (or "Blogging is Therapuetic")

If you know me well (or are a faithful blog reader) you know that I am a former cutter. (I prefer the term cutter to self mutilator.) Well, much like a alcoholic, it is a one day at a tiome thing. I am very proud to say that I have not cut in 8 years and 9 months, or approximately 3192 days. Well during that time I have probably thought about cutting 10000 times. Some days are worse than others. Those are usually the days when I get so close to cut that I actually scratch my arms raw. And no, I don't count that as cutting because 1. I never get anywhere near breaking the skin and 2. I don't get the release, the rush, or the satisfaction that I get when I see my blood.

Today has been particularly rough. I don't know if I am just PMSing or what but my emotions are all over the map. The muscles in my arm ache from the stress of trying to keep them still. The weather is really warm lately and the last thing I want to do is stay covered up so that no one can see the results. (Which ironically is something that I never even thought of doing before I stopped cutting. I wore those scars proudly.)

I can't explain why I feel the need, because it is a need, not a mere want. It feels as if you are standing in the middle of the desert, dehydrated, dying for a sip of water. And a bottle is sitting right in front of you, within your reach. All you have to do is pick up the ice cold water, unscrew the cap, and drink to your hearts content. The only problem is that you know it is poison and one drop, much less a sip, will kill you. So do you quench your thirst and die a painful death, or do you die of thirst? Its a lose lose situation. Thats what cutting is for me.

I am so thirsty right now (see metaphor above and try to keep up) and all I want to do is take a sip of that poisoned water, but I know that I can't. It can do nothing but hurt me, but for gods sake, even temporary relief would be wonderful.

The good news is that talking about this in a rational manner, such as I have just done in my ever wonderful blog, releases some of that tension and the urge fades. Its partly a waiting game, if you keep calm and occupy your hands (by typing for instance) you can get past the hump, past the point where your arms are twitching with anxiety and pent up energy.

Just got to keep breathing and resisit the urge...

No comments allowed

DISCLAIMER: Since most of you will have something to say regarding this particular post, I am not allowing comments. Because quite frankly, I am having a bad day, I need to vent, and I don't want to hear it.

I am NOT attractive. I know it. You know it. We all know it. That being said, I don't know why I get these crazy ideas that good looking (or even decent looking) men might be interested in my in the slightest. I am fooling myself. No one wants what I have to offer. I just need to accept it. Move on. Hell I haven't had a relationship in 9 (that's right - NINE) years. And at this point I don't think that I will have one anytime soon.

Even better - I am a 27 year old VIRGIN. And don't give me that crap about how proud I should be and how much better off I am. That is bullshit. The simple truth is that no one wants to have sex with me. I woldn't even want to have sex with me. So I certainly can't blame the rest of the world.

Lets just take a look at the flings (because that seems to be the best that I can do) that I have had since moving to Vegas five years ago. Brent - we were both trashed after the Green Day concert. Jon - we were both sloshed after Vik's wedding, not too mention the fact that had my drunk ass not called him at 3 am after he left the after-party I never would have seen him much less hooked up with him. (Don't hate me Vik - he seems like a great guy - he would have to be in order to be friends with you.) Then of course there was Rich. We spent the night at the bar and then hooked up in my car, and shock and surpise - he NEVER called me again. So what have we learned? Shannon needs to get guys drunk before they will even look at her and the random drunken hook-up is the best that I can do.

And the worst part is that I keep trying. Why? Every time I do I get disappointed and hurt. Why do I put myself through this? I must be a glutton for punishment. Oh thats right... I am.

Short One

I must be a very lucky person to be blessed with the friends that I have. There is one girl (one of the 3 people in the entire universe who actually read this blog) that has been my friend for the past 15 years. And I am blessed to have her in my life. From the moment I transferred into her school, she made me feel welcome. She was the only one who really did.

This wonderful person helped me during some of the toughest times of my life to date. She was there when my parents split up, she gave me her shoulder when I needed to cry, she lent me her uniform when my family had no money and we needed to make one (see previous posts for full details) and above all she was genuine. Always has been and always will. For all of these things and more I am grateful. I mean this girl, who stands a little over 5 feet tall, is in my corner no matter what happens. Just take a look at the comment she posted on my last entry (Assholes, Leatherpants, and the World's Largest Birthday Cake.) I read that and laughed out loud, picturing her standing in the middle of a bar, irate, ready to rip someones throat out just to protect and defend me. I must have been a saint in my last life, because I don't know what things I could have done in this life to deserve a friend like her.

The best part about this wonderful person is that no matter how far away we may be, however long it may have been since we last spoke, we are still close. Time and space won't change that.

Thanks Vik!!!

Assholes, Leatherpants, and the World's Largest Birthday Cake

What a long strange weekend it has been! For those of you that don't know, I currently live in Las Vegas. Vegas is celebrating its 100th birthday today. One of my clients is the Las Vegas Centennial, and since there were a lot of events this week to celebrate the birthday I spent a lot of time at work this week trying to finalize all the different newspaper ads. In order to wind down from this crazy week, a few friends and I went to the Roadrunner bar down the street from my apartment. Lately it seems that the people who go to these bars are snotty and obnoxious (my friends and myself excluded). Well we had a few beers and were talking, just chilling out. So at about 12:30 we all decide that it is time to leave. Since the bar is packed, we are walking in single file through the "lounge area" with me pulling up the rear. There was this drunk asshole sitting in the lounge, and when he saw us walking by, he screamed out (or slurred loudly) "Yes, Yes, Yes, No" while pointing to each of us in turn. WTF? Why do people feel the need to make such mean and hurtful comments? Granted I know that I am not a knock out by any means (and all three of my friends are really good looking - bitches!), but I am certainly not a dog, quite frankly I think that I am cute in a non-traditional way. Anyway, having a few beers in me didn't help matters, as soon as I got in my car I started bawling and cried the entire way home. (No worries now - I am over it yet still slightly dumbfounded at the rudeness that people display with no qualms.)

Anyway, knowing that I need to be at one of the Centennial events on Sunday morning by 3 am, I was trying to relax on Saturday night, and I tried (unsuccessfully) to get to sleep by 10. That didn't happen so I resigned myself to not sleeping until the Sunday events were over. Well as I am flipping through the channels, desparate for some entertainment to while away the time, I get a phone call. At this point it is 1 am. All of my close friends know that I need to be to work by 3 and therefore know better than to call me. So all I could think is who the hell is calling me? Turns out it is this guy that I know that I call Leatherpants. (This is all based on the story he told a group of people when we first met him about jumping into the pool at the Hard Rock in his leather pants with Vince Neill(?)). Anyway, Leatherpants is known for going to extremes, be it drinking, gambling, partying, or spending money. Well it seems that he went out to a nightclub on Friday night with a group of 8 or 9 people, reserved a VIP table and picked up the check. (The tab was about $1600!!!!) He thinks he got home at about lunchtime at which time he ate some tacos (can we say vomit!!) and then promptly passed out. Well when he woke up hours later, he felt like complete and utter crap. The worst hangover of his life and he didn't know what to do about it. He was freaking out a little because he was getting the chills and then having hot flashes and heart palpitations. (Leatherpants had a bad heart scare about a year ago after which he quit drinking and smoking for a while). Anyway at this point he is trying to decide whether he is just having a panic attack, or if he should go to his parents house, stay home and deal with it, or go to the ER. I had to talk him out of going to his parents house (they would kick his mid-30 year old ass) since it was about half an hour away and he really wasn't in the shape to drive. I was on the phone with him for almost two hours. When we finally got off the phone he had driven himself to the ER where he puked a few times in the parking lot. Since he started to feel a little bit better he slept in his car for a while. (No he never went in to the hospital.)

After I got off the phone with him I headed downtown to the Birthday Cake event. Talk about absolute craziness. Watching volunteers work from Midnight until 2 pm to build the World's Largest Birthday Cake (pending Guiness approval) was insane. By the time I finished up at 6 am the lack of sleep was catching up to me, so I headed home to nap for an hour before meeting my friend for breakfast. (On my way home, I swung by the hospital to make sure that Leatherpants was still alive - he had already left the parking lot).

After breakfast I had to decide between sleeping before my next shift or just running all my errands first. Needless to say, I went to sleep and woke up with just enough time to shower before heading back to the event. It was insane. Word of caution for everyone - free events will bring out all the crazies - especially in Vegas. This cake that was built was available for anyone who wanted a free slice or even a large portion to take home (there was certainly enough cake for that.) People were walking out of there with piles of cake in boxes. Not slices! It looked like people just grabbed fistfuls of cake. It was a kind of gross. But I must say the place smelled great...

Secrets

Blood on my hands
Dripping on the floor
Clean it up quick
Before you get caught
It’s not a secret
Anymore
Too many people know
Can it be hidden if
You do it again?

The Game

How can he respect her
When she doesn’t respect herself
She throws so much at him
Hoping to endear herself
Realizing too late
That the very same behavior
Pushes him away
Instead of pulling him close
The seductress can only tempt
Whereas the innocent can win the game
But the seductress doesn’t play fair.

The End

So many emotions had to collide
A few minor explosions
More major outbursts
Tears pain
A tumult of assorted feelings
Banging against each other
Like boiling water
But here we are
I blame myself
And I detest the part you played
I loathe myself
Because I am the reason you are gone
Crazy, psychotic actions pushed you out the door
Pissed at you for how things were handled
Cowardly, cruel measures that pierced through me
All these left scars
All these caused pain
For us both
Where did that leave us?
At the end
Took this long to figure out
That’s where we are
The end.

Stuck

So I can't get this guy out of my head. Most of you will think that I am nuts since I haven't seen this guy in about seven months and I certainly haven't had a full fledged conversation with him since then either. So why can't I get him out of my head?

Let me count the ways. First of all he is extremely attractive. He has beautiful eyes, a very nice body, his personality... What can I say about his personality other then he is funny, witty, sarcastic, hysterical, everything that I could ever ask for from anyone. And second, during the limited time we spent together, we just clicked very well and laughed most of the time.

I was able to spend some time alone with him. (Keep in mind that we were both very drunk). Well, I ended up having a panic attack. The alcohol definitely did not help. I was scared. Even though I initiated the entire thing, I was a little freaked out. I was in over my head ... and I lost it. Things moved really fast and I couldn't deal. So I was practically in tears, shaking and hyperventilating.

You would think that most guys would run screaming. Not this one. He did everything he could to calm me down. Brought things back to a place where I was comfortable. And I was grateful. And to top it off, after I had calmed down a little, he lightened the mood by cracking a joke (which is normally my specialty!).

Needless to say, I can't get this guy out of my head...

Choices but no options

Why do I always develop, for lack of a better term, a "crush" on guys who are unavailable or unobtainable? I set myself up for disaster.

**EDITED**

Then there is the guy that lives on the other side of the country. I met him at a wedding. We hit it off, or at least I thought we did. We hung out for a little bit after the wedding. Spent a lot of time laughing and talking in a group setting. The spent some time together alone. But we really haven't spoken since then. That is if you don't count the time that I started a text message conversation when I was drunk. That conversation did last for a day or two though. Can you flirt in text messages? If you can, then I think that was what we were doing. I haven't really stopped thinking about him since I met him at the end of last year. So what is the problem here? 2776 miles to be exact. We live on different coasts. Not to mention the fact that we have only hung out once. The only good thing about this one is that when I get back east this summer there is a chance that I may get to see him.

Wish me luck...

Home

Insomnia

I don't sleep very well. I haven't since I was 16. It's been 11 years now and I have gotten used to it. At this point I have hit bottom so to speak. I feel like I could fall asleep at me desk. I am a zombie right now. I can not focus and I can not think. I am worthless and this is the worst time for it. I have so much going on at work right now that I can not afford to be anything but on my game.

Its a vicous cycle. I am busy at work, so I work until 7 or 7:30. I get home by 8 and I am usually starving. By the time I eat dinner its close to 9. Then I cant fall asleep. So I am up doing nothing of any importance until aftr 1. So I drag myself out of bed at 630 or 7 and go to work, where I bust my ass all day to make up for not being focused and end up staying at the office until 730 or 8. Sick huh?

But why is it so busy? Well, I was promoted in January. In the agency that I work for each team is comprised of two account people. Well, when I moved into the other account role, they didn't replace me. So I am doing two people's jobs on 4 clients. So that is why I am so busy. I keep asking when they are going to replace the other account position, but at this point they have no immediate plans to do so. They are probably going to wait until I have a nervous breakdown. But then they will be screwed. They'll have to hire two people.

Twister

I wish you were a
tree that I could
bend to my will
But only a tornado
will move you
All my attempts
have failed
miserably
How I hope to
sway your opinion
force you to
reevaluate me
and you
But it has to be
your idea
your desire
I can not force my
wants and needs
and make them yours

Chances and Responsibility

So for some reason (most likely boredom) I watched part of the Doctor Phil/Pat O'Brien special this evening and it got me to thinking. Pat kept saying over and over that it wasn't him, that it was his disease. Don't get me wrong, I understand and truly believe that alcoholism is a disease. I know how serious it is and how it can mess you up (for those of you that dont know, my dad is a recovering alcoholic who has been sober for almost 2 years now).

However... I hate it when people don't take responsibility for their own actions. Drugged, drunk, or just plain dumb, if you did it, own up to it and be accountable for it. How hard is that? In today's society, it seems almost impossible.

Take my very own dad for example. His actions while drinking have had profound and long lasting effects on me. Has he ever made amends for this? No. And he will be the first to lecture on being responsible. And that bothers me.

What bothers me more, is the fact that people get so many chances to screw up lately. Yes, everyone makes mistakes, and yes you should be learning from those mistakes. That isn't my problem. I have an issue with those people who make the same mistake over and over and are always given another chance.

Again, lets take my dad for example. My dad would go on a binge and dissappear for days, or come home and start getting violent, or dissappear for a while and then come back and get violent. And what was the outcome of all this? My dad would get down on his knees and cry & beg my mom to take him back. She always did. Not only is she teaching him that as long as he apologozes all the issues will be swept under the rug. And she also taught us that this is the way it should be.

Well, I am at the point in my life where I have gone to the complete opposite extreme. You only get one chance with me. You fuck it up, you are gone. Life is too short for that shit.

The moral of this story - don't mess up. Shannon is a Pass/Fail course and you need to be damn close to perfect to pass.

Oh the Irony

Florida girl has abortion blocked
By Jeremy Cooke BBC News, New York

Some say forcing a 13-year-old to give birth is illegal and cruelA pregnant 13-year-old girl in Florida has been told she cannot have an abortion because she lacks the maturity to make such a decision.
A state court granted an injunction which prevents the girl from terminating her pregnancy.
She is three months pregnant and had planned to have an abortion on Tuesday of this week.
The American Civil Liberties Union says it will launch an urgent appeal against the ruling.

'Too young to choose"
Florida's department of children and families intervened and took the matter to court, arguing the teenager, who is under the care of the state, is too young and immature to make an informed medical decision. Judge Ronald Alvarez in Palm Beach accepted that argument and has granted a temporary injunction and psychological evaluation, which effectively blocks her from terminating the pregnancy.
It is a case which, once again, plays into the heated and divisive debate about abortion in America.
The judge's ruling comes in spite of Florida state law which specifically does not require a minor to seek parental consent before an abortion.
The American Civil Liberties Union 's executive director in Florida, Howard Simon, said forcing a 13-year-old to carry on an unwanted pregnancy to term, against her wishes, is not only illegal and unconstitutional, it is cruel.

Cruel Intentions and Joe

I met Joe my junior year. We got along very well from the start and we became good friends. Since neither one of us drank (at least at the time), we would hang out while everyone else was out partying. We started a ritual where every Sunday night we would watch a movie together.

Joe was appalled that I had never seen Star Wars, so over the course of a month we watched the entire trilogy. He laughed his ass off as I screamed with fright at the end of the Blair Witch Project. He practically blew a wad when I brought him Star Wars Episode 1 The Phantom Menace when it was released on video. And that is basically how it went, we watched a lot of movies together and introduced each other to new things.

Joe was, and probably still is, a man's man. The typical sports loving lecher. But he has a way of surprising people. One Sunday night I brought Cruel Intentions, which I think is a good movie. As a typical romantic girl, I love the story line of this movie. Based on Les Liasons Dangereuses by de Laclos, this is the only movie version that I have seen that looks at Valmont as someone who truly struggles with love and emotion. Although, it is not necessarily true to the novel, I like the interesting point of view taken. But I digress...

So Joe and I are watching the movie and having a good time. We get to the end of the movie, Ronald is fighting with Valmont in Central Park. Annette tries to break it up and gets pushed into oncoming traffic. Valmont jumps up and pushes her out of the way sacrificing himself. As soon as Valmont gets hit by the taxi, Joe sits straight up in bed and screams "NOOOOO!!!!!". I was taken completely by surprise. Joe was so upset that Valmont would get killed off that for the rest of the movie he just kept saying "no" over and over again.

I really enjoyed seeing that part of Joe. He really opened up and showed me a side of him that I don't think many people see, his vulnerability. He was really worried that no matter how much he made amends for the mistakes in his life, that he wouldn't have true love. I hope he has found what he was looking for.

I'm getting too old for this shit

My entire body aches from playing softball today. A doubleheader every Sunday is becoming too much for me. The fact that I get home and can't move is ridiculus. It's only May 1st and already it is getting too hot to play. (For those of you that are not familiar with the weather in Vegas - it is in the low 80s and climbing steadily. Before the season ends we will probably hit 110.) It doesn't help that we play in the middle of the day with the sun glaring down at us.

If you care, we lost both games. (What a shock... *sarcasm*)

Softball and nerves

So since I started working at R&R 3 years ago, I have been playing on their coed softball team. I used to enjoy it. Not anymore. The team dynamic has shifted so that its all about winning. Don't get me wrong, I am a competitive person, however, I want to have fun while I am winning. I don't want to be miserable while losing, which is exactly what our team is doing right now.

As I said, I have been on the team for three years. The first season I played, we did really well. We had a great turn out for all of our games, even the ones on 8 am Sunday mornings. We had FUN. And how did the season end? We took second place in the championship.

The second season was not as good. It ended pretty early when a teammate was rushed to the hospital after getting hit in the face by a throw to second.

Now this season is about halfway through, and just like last year, the large group of people who signed up to play, don't show, and those that do have to pick up the slack. Even though I hate playing now, I still show up every weekend, ready to play. Even though I fucked up my ankle two weeks ago and have been limping ever since, I still play.

What has happened to this society that no one gets the basic idea of being a team player?

All I know is that on game day, my nerves get so bad, I am sick to my stomach. Every Sunday. Without fail. Gross huh? People wonder why I don't go out on Saturday nights when I have a game on Sunday. Can you imaging how bad it would be to have a hangover too? No thanks.

So to sum up, I have a bum ankle, I get physically ill before every game, I hate playing lately, and yet I still go to each and every game. And yet, there are girls who really want to play, but "the fields are so far away on the other side of town". Whatever!!

Poetry

So I tend to write poetry - usually when my mood is in an extreme. So keep your eyes out for poetry to come. Here is your first taste...

Rush

Let it envelop you.
It will swallow you whole.
Inhale its calming effects.
Let it work its magic on you.
Breathe deep.
Forget your problems.
Fly high as an eagle.
Feel the rush in your veins.
Let it pulse through you.
Then, fall flat on your face when it ends.
And do it all over again.