Ow

To rival Carl: I was flying down the field, with the ball at my feet, ready to shoot on the enemy's goal. Out of nowhere, a defender steals the ball from me. As he does a quick turn-around to pass the ball to his team-mate, I run on the side of him, in an effort to get it back. WHAM! His bulky figure slams me, causing a portion of my left leg, from the bottom of my foot to my knee, to fall towards the left, while the rest of my body, from the knee up, falls to the right. A series of sickening pops erupts loudly from my knee, loud enough for a couple nearby people to hear. Down, down, down I went, till after what seemed like a minute, by body hit the ground, followed by another loud pop as my now dislocated knee popped itself back into place. Then came the pain. Sheer, blinding, gut-wrenching pain emanated from my knee, cause me to roll around in agony, praying that it would stop. Unfortunately, it didn't. Unable to stand up on my own, I was carried off the field by two kind team-mates. I was afraid I had broken a bone, because the pain was immense and I didn't think a leg could dislocate that badly without breaking a bone or two. I was seated on the bench, shaking from the pain, and I started taking long slow breaths and focusing on other things, in an effort to subside the pain that was still attacking my knee. It didn't work. I was calling my parents repeatedly, trying to tell them what had happened to me, but I was getting no answer. I finally gave up, and told the coach I would drive myself to the hospital. He asked if I felt OK enough to drive, and I said yes. He then offered to drive his car behind me all the way there, in case I needed to pull over if the pain got any worse. As I started limping to the car, arms slouched over two friendly sets of shoulders, my parents called back, and I told them what had happened. They didn't want me to drive myself home, so they drove out to Watsonville High School, where my game had been, to pick me up. My dad took my car home, and my mom drove me to the Emergency Room. The X-Ray came out clean. No breaks at all, which I found very hard to believe. The pain was too great for there to be nothing wrong. We then scheduled an MRI, which showed why I was feeling the way I was. I had completely shredded my anterior cruciate ligament, and had an ugly tear in my meniscus. I had also ruptured my posterior joint capsule, and had a small little rip in my lateral collateral ligament. Unfortunately for me, this meant surgey was imminent. I was scheduled for the day after Christmas, which was kind of a bummer, but it was my first surgery ever, so I was feeling scared, nervous, excited, and slightly bad-ass. The surgery went well. The procedure consisted of the surgeon removing a piece of my patellar tendon with a small chunk of tibia on one end and a small chunk of patella on the other, to be used as a new ligament. He then drilled a hole through my tibia and up into my femur, where the makeshift ligament would be placed. After removing the shreds of my destroyed ACL, he put in my new ligament and screwed the chunks of bone into my femur and tibia, to hold the ligament in place. He then scraped out the tear in my meniscus, stitched me up, and sent me home. The week after surgery was the worst, most painful week of my life. It made the actual accident seem like a massage, the post-op pain was so bad. I suffered through that first terrible week, and then I suffered through the second worst week of my life. Finally, I could feel myself starting to recover. The swelling was starting to go down, I was in physical therapy, and I could walk with crutches! For the first two weeks, I was unable to get out of bed without assistance. Anyway, my advice to you is; let the overweight defender have the ball.

When I was a little girl, my mom would always tell me "Mija, cosas en la vida son dicifil, pero no son impossible"

In english that translates to "Daughter, things in life are hard, but they are not impossible"

Thanks to my mom, when the times get tough, I stay strong, knowing that situations in life are difficult, but not impossible to overcome.

Stronger than percieved

Strip me of my dignity

Rid me of my desires

Criticize my creativity

Poor water onto my fires

Suppress my feelings of hope

Break my ability to love

Tangle me in your rope

Push me down from my stance above

Drown me with your hate

Suffocate all my emotions

Hold me down with all your weight

Shove me into the vast oceans

Rip out my beating heart

Stomp on it as you as you please

For me this creates a brand new start

And letting go comes to me with ease

college

Where will I go?

What will I do?

Who will I be?

What about you?

The future seems to be so near

I never thought i'd see the day

My heart begins to swell with fear

To college I will go away

So goodbye friends,

goodbye family,

goodbye to those I have known in the past.

I'm off to start a new adventure,

and I would like to thank all of you for making my senior year such a blast.

My Spleen

I sprinted up the field, the little white Lacrosse ball swinging in my net. At the 30 yard line I raised my stick, and, without slowing down, brought my stick down hard, sending the ball toward the goal. Thud. His shoulder hit me in the stomach and he bounced backward, stumbling. My momentum was barely altered. I turned to sprint back to the goal side and I found myself gasping for air. I struggled off the field, discarded my helmet and stick on the ground, and dropped to the turf. My struggle for air was quickly replaced with an intense nausea. I leaned over the blue trash can and threw up again and again. Maybe that Power Gel at half time was a bad idea. Sharp pains erupted all along my lower ribs and inside my abdomen. I stumbled over to the bench and tried to drink some water. The pain in my abdomen intensified but was instantly overruled by my vision, which was now suddenly blotchy and bright. I could barely make out the players on the field or the coaches looking down at me. They told me to put my hands over my head as I tried to relay my symptoms. My vision kept getting worse. “I can’t see,” I said over and over again with a hint of panic in my voice. Thousands of bright lights flashed and changed colors in front of me like an angry sea of light. Suddenly I went limp. My arms fell to my side and the lights in front of me blinked off and then back on again as I grappled with consciousness. I managed to get the words out to call an ambulance. The commotion around me seemed far away; muffled, as though it were coming from behind a locked door down the hall. My eyelids desperately tried to stay open. Something was pressed against my mouth. Oxygen. The paramedics were trying to tell me to take slow deep breaths. I realized that I was hyperventilating. My breath raced in and out of my throat at a frantic pace but never reached my lungs. Panic tried to take over but I would not let it. “calm down. Breath.” I said to myself. It took every bit of will power to slow my breathing. They put me on my back and loaded me into the ambulance. My vision slowly began to come back. Then came the shakes. I was freezing, colder than I had ever felt. I shook violently. My whole body convulsed, threatening to break the straps pinning me to the stretcher. My teeth clashed together and a sharp pain ran through my tongue. I turned my head to the side and threw up. I remember missing the bowl. I had nothing left to throw up but it didn’t stop. My stomach muscles spasmed and I cried out in pain. The next thing I remember was violently shaking under a pile of heated blankets and a hot air cover in the Emergency Room at Dominican. After what seemed like hours, my convulsing slowed and my vision became fairly normal. But the pain was unbearable. My abdomen felt as though my organs were ripped and scrambled and it felt as though someone had stabbed knives through my shoulders. The nausea was awful. I groaned out loud and shifted and writhed on my bed. Apparently three doses of morphine was not enough. I looked down at myself and saw that I had IV’s in both of my arms, electrical cords attached all over my chest and stomach, a heart rate and blood oxygen level meter taped to my finger, multiple pieces of gauze taped to my arms where they had drawn blood, and a blood bank wristband on my right wrist. I have no recollection of the transfer from the ambulance to the ER and I only remember them putting in one IV. Countless Doctors and nurses came in and out of the room, bombarding my mom with questions and diagnostics. Grace, tears brimming in her eyes and worry plastered on her face, came to my side and held my hand. For just a moment the pain lifted and I felt ok. Wonderful in fact. I knew that I was going to recover, I had to recover. They did an ultra sound and then a CAT scan. Within a few minutes of the CAT scan I was wheeled out to the helipad and lifted into the CalStar Helicopter. I couldn’t see from my position, so the 12 minute flight to Stanford was unexciting. I spent the next few hours in the Trauma ward. Nothing could help the pain in my shoulders and the pain in my stomach. I lay in misery as the days melded together. I spent a day and a half in the ICU and another 5 days in the recovery ward. I slept 20 hours a day and ate nearly nothing because of the pain. When they sent me home I was 15 pounds lighter then when I arrived. One thought continues to crop up in my mind: "All that and I didn't even score a goal."

Journal 4/7

I love writing in my journal. It seems like I can fill up two whole pages with my life story. i have no idea how I will ever write ten pages a week. The whole class keeps whining about it but I guess I am too so I can't really say anything.

Snowball

My parents used to read this poem when I was little, and since we have been doing some poetry, I thought I might look at it again. When I read the poem, it reminded me of a lot of fun childhood memories.

Snowball

by Shel Silverstein

I made myself a snow ball as perfect as could be.

I thought I'd keep it as a pet and let it sleep with me.

I made it some pajamas and a pillow for it's head.

Then, last night it ran away.

But first -- it wet the bed.

Just Kids

Send me a letter or a postcard,
It should'nt be too hard.
Let me know what has changed,
Let me know who you are.
We were both kids when you decided to leave,
But now that we're older, lets get over our beef.
I miss the good times we had,
Like when we would piss off your dad.
But now that we are seperated,
I'm no longer mad.
We were going to be each others best man,
But now old memories is all that I have.

Writing Assignment Poem

This writing assignment is far too long
Which is why I am here to declare this as wrong
I am given 20 minutes to write in class
But for some reason it never seems to last
I write for a little before i get writer's block
I'm tired of this, I just want to talk
However, I can't because i fear
That i will get harassed by my peers
So as you can see
I think 10 pages a week
Is far too much work for me.

Crooked

My life is all rescheduled appointments and laundromats, man.

Talkin' day late payments, paying with change and riding my beat down roadbike home when it's
freezing foggy and windy outside,
and i'm always hungry.


I'm all about clocking out at 4:30 and having nowhere to go

no life to live
where I am the sun is setting twenty four seven,
always sitting lukewarm and tired on the horizon,
ready to just
drop in the ocean.

The beads on my bracelet fall off methodically and I wonder what does it mean.




I am the over analysis of a missed call

a misplaced sigh an unpecked kiss
an ungiven gift
a dying batch of flowers
a misshapen cloud an unsent letter

an unspoken I love you.



The beads on my bracelet keep falling off and I'm still wondering

What's it all mean.


......


My coffee usually sits cold on a plastic table
when it's dark outside

i'm tired and i don't want to ride that bike home again....

the beads have all fallen off
and my
string bracelet is wearing thin like my sanity i wonder

WHAt's iT aLl MEaN.





I'm the slumbering deadbeat
sometimes I think I'll let someone else
break through the stratosphere and i'll just
live in a box behind alberstson's.


My
pen
runs low on ink most days and my
my voice usually falls silent when i need it,,,,

some times my hands are so cold I can't feel my own heart beating.





My string bracelet fell off yesterday when I was taking off my jacket.

It lay on the ground staring up at me, staring "I fucking hate you."
Now there's a tanline band on my wrist where the bracelet used to be,
a shadow of something important,
a distant,
foggy memory
fading into industrial fileds over the horizon.


My girlfriend left me last week and I can't help but wonder,

What's it all mean?

A rose

A rose is like a secret
Crimson red outside lures you to peak in
to discover whats inside.
You must pluck each soft silky petal off.
Each petal is like a word.
Once all the petals are gone,
you find all that is inside is a center.
The secret has been heard.
A rose is like a secret.
Don't destroy the beauty.
Some things are better left unheard.

Who I am (my college essay)

As the whistle blew, my heart stopped, and tears slowly began to crawl down my face. A feeling of disbelief overwhelmed me. We had just lost the championship game and what could be the last competitive football game of my life. All the hard work, commitment, sacrifice, devotion, determination, and focus throughout the season did not result in success. For four years, I had worked physically and mentally to achieve success in this final championship game, and my team and I failed. Although we ended up co-champions of our league, that tie was not good enough for me.
After a week or two of moping around, my body slowly recovering from the physical toll of the season, I found myself unfocused for the first time. My football and sports career seemed over; my eighteenth birthday was a few months away; my childhood was fading into the past, and the pressure to figure out what I wanted to do with my life was constant. So I began to reevaluate my goals and question who I am as a young man. And what I concluded is that I actually did not lose as much as I thought I had as I walked of the football field that day. I thought that all my hard work and commitment were for nothing, but I was wrong.
I have proved to myself that I have a strong work ethic to achieve goals. I have learned that I am capable of unwavering commitment to what I put my mind to. I now know that failure is a part of success, and when I fail, I am motivated to overcome that failure. I know how it feels to not win and be pushed to the ground, but I also know to always get back up and keep going. I have realized the game is never over because I am now entering the game of life, which, from what I hear, takes some hard work and commitment. I am ready for that challenge.

It rolls through the air and lands on the top of the rim,

it bounces three times and slowly falls in.

The final buzzer sounds and the scoreboard reads: Thrity-two to Eighty.

What a score!

Too bad it was the other team's Eighty.

Oh well shake it off there is always the next game after this one.

Sitting, waiting, wishing for that day to finally come

Only two more months to go, which still seems far to some

The days will pass by fast, though the hours will pass by slow

The time will feel never ending because we all just want to go

During these last few months at home, we must cherish all we have

It will be out first time on our own, and oh, I am glad

So many new adventures are going to come our way

Some may be good, others bad; however, we're all willing to play

The years coming up will be the best years of our lives

High school was just the beginning, and we've all survived

Sitting, waiting, wishing for that day to come

Only two more months till freedom, which still seems far to some

I believe that everyone was born into the life that they were for a reason. God has a plan for everybody. Some people are given the lives they are so that they can teach others something. That is how the world is supposed to be. And in a parallel universe, the outcome may be different. Somewhere in the universes, everyone is given the life that they deserve, filled with health and happiness. But in this universe, people are given all different types of life. Some are remarkably inspiring, and others frustrate the masses. The fact is, we were put into this universe for a reason, and whatever knowledge we retain from this lifetime and bring to the next will be there for a reason. So the lessons that we learn today, will stick with us for generations.

journal 3/29/10

well well well it seems that i have reached yet another procrastination dilemma. I sit at the rectangular table in the library and am surrounded by several others that are also procrastinating. In fact the library should have a huge welcome sign above it's doors "procrastinators welcome". procrastination may be a horrible habit, but it sure gets work done.

IT WOULDNT LET ME WRITE A TITLE OR TAKE CLAPS LOCK OFF, SO EVERYONE HAS TO DEAL. IM DEEPLY SORRY, AND I APPOLOGISE FOR THIS INCONVIENCE, AND ALL MY MISS SPELLED WORDS. TITLE: SUPER DUPER FUN TIME BIRDS CHERPING LOWDLY FLOWERS BURSTING WITH COLOR TREE'S POLLEN TICKLES THE NOSE CRICKETS AND FROGS TAKE THE PLACE OF RAINFALL IN THE NIGHT EVERYTHING POINTS TOWARDS SPRING TIME

An Immortal Flower

Grab a flower firmly, but hold it gently
Don't let it out of yor grip, keep it lightly
Always in your sight, let it know its yours,
Don't keep it too tight, don't use too much force,

From first glance, its colors held me,
Standing tall, it stood out with all its beauty,
Ill never find another that's just the same,
For its powerful aroma is imprinted in my brain,
I want to bring it everywhere I go,
show it off and tell everyone how much I love it so,
Forever ill keep it in my back pocket,
And around my heart will be a locket,
Of a love that will never be forgotten

Confusion

The answer will not be found until I find it within my own mind

But the question will continue extending its mystifying metaphor

Until I truly understand what I stand for

Fear Free

The fear of a free mind is hearing that spirit can die

But a free soul isn't fearful of not being in control

Because anything free can never really be emptied

--Herbal Nomad, Cole F

Less and Fewer

Less and Fewer

Less is used for mass nouns

Fewer is used for count nouns

Hmmmm...sounds like chemistry. So let's cook up this grammatical bomb a little more.

Fewer hairs: Less hair

Fewer is used when you can count the items. I can count the hairs on my chin, so I have fewer hairs, but actually I have more, more little bristles poking through on my chin. That's what happens after age 48, and it sucks, and it makes me feel like a bearded hag, which I guess I am, and I refuse to get it waxed because I just don't waste my time on such things. Now the hair on my head is different: the hair on my head, which is like a mane, is not countable. It's a mass of hair, not individual, countable bristles, like those stupid ones on my chin, so as I get older, I have less hair on my head because I have fewer countable individual hairs on my head. And, sadly, I have more hairs on my chin. Which I shave. So what. Get over it.

Less Aging: Fewer Lines

OK...now you are really confused...bad example. But let's stay with my appearance and the topic of my aging which obsesses me. I have more lines on my face. And are they countable? Yes, but it would take all day of obsessing in front of the mirror, and I am not that f@$ked-up about my appearance to count them, and what does that have to do with less and fewer anyway? Well, if I could stand in front of the mirror and bend time like Brad Pitt in that Button movie I would have fewer lines on my face with each passing moment. But that didn't work out so well for Brad.

Less humanity: Fewer people

Aging is all about less and fewer: more pounds of fat on your body, but that means less muscle. You can't count muscle, so you have less muscle mass, but I suppose that would mean you have fewer muscle fibers. Or do they shrink or what? You have less muscle tone. You can't count tone, so you have less tone. But you have fewer people admiring your legs as you walk down the street in shorts on a sunny afternoon when school is finally out and you can have a little fun for a change. I think it is this damn job that is making me old. I have less time to do the kind of fun things that keep me young. Like riding my white Arabian horse, galloping down the beach with his tail in the air, his nostrils flared...there is no one in sight and the world feels clean...Yes, less time for that sort of thing. Less time, fewer minutes, fewer hours, fewer days. But less time.

Less time: Fewer Days

And that's the essence, I suppose, to getting older...fewer minutes, fewer days. And the ones you have seem faster. The days, minutes, hours, rush by in a blur: two trains passing each other. Something is flashing by in the other direction, and it feels like my life, but I am going so fast, there is no way I can catch that other train, my past, my childhood, my children born and grown...it's racing away.

Less is more

So I guess there really is no less or fewer...now that i think about it, it's not chemistry, it's physics. Time is just melting down around me. Less fewer, mass count. Once I didn't know how to count, didn't know about less or fewer, and I had more.