113 – 8 = 105, 5’5” BMI 17.5
this is such a shallow goal, but I can’t stand looking at myself in the mirror…I wish I could give my food to the 14,000 kids who die each day from hunger. I don’t need it.
...must be of my friends, family, and I
doing crazy things that we’ll want to remember
I did it, but I didn’t do it. I didn’t go back physically, but I talked to my parents about it and finally—finally
I feel better about this then I have in a long, long time.
I didn’t ever think the coaches would pick me as one of the team captains, but they did – and last night, while we were out of town at an XC meet, all of the freshman girls told me how much they loved all of the captains this year. It was good to hear and overhear. I feel more like a leader, too – I’m getting better at speaking up, taking charge, thinking up innovations, and doing whatever it takes to get the job done.
I hope this is a permanent transformation!
Not money, that’s for sure. Not status or designer bags. I wish I could pinpoint what I should channel my efforts into. Family? Friends? Academics? Sports? God? I can’t find the meaning in hardly anything anymore—I can’t see anything at all that seperates me from anyone else, or why it matters anyway.
...but it’s not, it’s really not. I want to do my best (right now, that’s looking like maybe top ten?), but I want to take a few steps back and focus on things like family and friends and the team as a whole. I’ll write notes to every runner (all 120 of them!) at some point during the season; I’ll be at the ready to cheer everyone on. In the end, I don’t want people to remember me as Runner Number Five. I want them to think “caring, thoughtful, enthusiastic, helpful”—and I think I’ll feel successful then.
...and then there’s always college, right?
Yesterday we snuck over to the park at 10 at night and climbed the fence to get onto the baseball field. We spread blankets and laid out and watched the sky as it filled with stars – and then satellites – and then meteors, a silver shower shooting across the sky. We picked out constellations and then made up our own.
It was quiet and dark and infinite; for a while, anything seemed possible.
“Listen,” she said, the glassy night breaking in her palms – everything quiet, quiet. “I don’t want you to give up yet. You can’t give up on everything yet.”
He looked up, shadows from the blinds tracing the tilted L of his jaw – eyes hopeless, hopeless. In five thousand breaths the sun would rise, and she would be five thousand footsteps farther away. The flicker of a smile tugged at his lips.
“No. Not yet,” he said, twining his fingers in hers. They waited.
I should have given him that quilt I made (mom, I wouldn’t have cared if it got dirty from chemo), so he wouldn’t fall asleep in the armchair with an old raincoat for a blanket. I should have told him how much he meant to me. I should have visited him more often. I should have written down all of those stories I loved. I should have faced reality a lot sooner than I did. And I should have let ‘him’ kiss me. I should have taken more chances.
I need to let these go – I need to learn from them!
I will spend less time on the computer and more time with the people I love. I will tackle reality. I will listen to impulse more often…I will let go of regret.
Throughout my “scholarly career” (even from elementary school) my parents assured me that money was no option – as long as I worked hard and got the grades, they could cover any and all college expenses.
It turns out that they didn’t bank on shelling out $47,000 a year for school. I have the grades/SAT scores/extracurriculars to possibly get into a number of good schools (consider: Notre Dame, Bucknell, Dickinson, Denison, Lehigh, Swathmore) – but because of their high tuition costs and low number of non-need based scholarships available, I might have to go to a “less prestigious” school (Allegheny, Penn State, etc) because of the money I can get through scholarships and the lower tuition costs (though $37,000 for Allegheny is still pretty expensive!).
I don’t want to have worked hard for nothing – I want to get into the best school that I possibly can. It’s disappointing that most of the problem isn’t ability…it’s the price tag.
...but definitely something that I hate. I can drive in the dark with friends in the car, but it gets worse when I’m alone. Tonight I had to drive home from a graduation party and I discovered that turning up the radio helps…a little!
Did you ever see that movie? – the one with the girl in the car and she’s driving at night and a creeper suddenly appears in the backseat with a knife? Yes…that’s the scenario that runs through my mind whenever I have to drive home by myself at night.
Hopefully, with practice and time, this goal will complete itself!
Right now I think I’m one of five candidates for the three captain positions on the girls’ XC team. I think I could lead – I’m okay at it when I’m involved in something that I really believe in. I don’t really care if I’m a captain or not (though it would be fantastic, because I have some awesome ideas for the team) but I AM a senior, and all of the seniors are supposed to take up some leadership.
So, for the goal – build self-confidence. Build presence and charisma. I don’t feel like a senior yet (I don’t think the underclassmen even realize that I’m a senior), and that might be part of the problem.
Everything up until this point has been a three-line “get it done”...
6/24/07
Canonized, the dove
cries—thrust into
bones and ashes, ashes
and bones—and the saints
scan the inkstains with
sighs
because in the
monastery, light skips
the vowels and curls into
the consonants, resonant
in the velvet hymns, the
beaded prayers—stained glass
turns words to rainbows,
the priest on his knees with
palms raised, a shadow
in the pews, quiet desperation
fading
from the top of the spire,
from the pulse of the earth
and God cradles the dove
in the Book of Adam, head bent
over the slow exhale of time
…and when God prays,
Who answers?
Who answers?
(...it’s more than three lines!)
...and we could sit in a coffeeshop downtown, legs twined under the table, discussing classic authors and what the world will be like ten years from now; we could sit curled on the sofa, one blanket for two, watching an old movie on TV; we could go to an amusement park and make wishes on the pennies we throw into fountains; we could dance all night in dark light and heat and then, breathless, sit down to daybreak in the park, lying in the grooves of slides side-by-side or even on the swings; we could name a dream for each star, some simple wishes for the future; we could be passionate – but still calm – a passion painted with tranquility, the sideways whisper of a kiss, a neon night dissolved in the soft sunlight of midmorning.
Who wants to try it?
Madrid at night, the lights of the city spilled out like jewels and seen from 35000 feet in the air – the cool heat of Barcelona, stone and cement and fountains with jets of water into the daylight.
We flirted with the three Italian men who served us gelati – we did cartwheels on the beach at night, the Mediterannean rolling behind us – we bought each other roses from street vendors and merengue-d in the lit-by-night plaza to the praise music strummed and sung by the faithful, sporatic and spontaneous and wonderfully melodic. We danced in Spain and we ran in the cool morning, through the parks and pajaros, down narrow alleys.
The best experiences were the least planned. The eighth-century palaces and mosques were fantastic, but I had the most fun when we got back to the hotel and stayed up until two a.m. sitting on the balconies, delving into the deep and mysterious stuff of life – when we laughed at the smallest things and accumulated about five hundred jokes – when the food was just OK and we spiced up the evening by writing a love letter in Spanish to the waiter on a napkin – when we couldn’t breathe for laughing – when we tried churros and chocolate for the first time, and it was the best dessert ever – when we fended off the “pervadors” on the metro and when one of them taught us two words for “excited” – when I spoke to a stranger for two hours in Spanish and we managed to have a conversation – when we looked from the windows of the bullet train and saw fields of sunflowers spilling over the horizon – when Spain, alive and breathing, rose to meet us by dawn.
It was the most fantastic adventure.
Okay, rules for this one: my diary doesn’t count. Neither do entries on here – or on the Xanga – or anywhere but in my notebook. Each piece must be at least three lines long (no max limit).
By this time next year, I will have chronicled an entire year in writing.
1) I pulled off a 4.2 GPA, somehow (don’t ask me!)
2) I went running at 8:30, in the rain, just so my conscience wouldn’t kill me (I’m back on a schedule!). *I can’t wait to return for my senior year of XC.
3) I stopped listening to sad songs (“what sarah said” by death cab for cutie) and started pumping upbeat 90s rock from my stereo (“you get what you give” by the new radicals)
I still feel sick sometimes. Today I had to hold onto the car when I got out to keep from falling down because my vision went black. On the bright side, the insomnia’s gone. My writing is getting happier. The thing is, horrible stuff is still happening—my attitude’s just decided to take a U-turn. Weird, right?
On my sweet sixteenth last year, I set myself a goal: to go on at least one date by the time I turned seventeen.
I am counting this goal as half-done. In total, I have gotten six offers from three guys – I have gone on three “dates” – but with only one of the guys, and I did not kiss anyone.
Therefore! – new goal. I will go on at least one date by 6/13/08. Conditions: There must be a kiss by the end of the night (and doesn’t that sound fairytale-ish?). I must really want to go on a date with the individual (there must be some romantic feeling) – and I must enjoy the date itself.
...so, can I manage it?
We’ll see!
We danced the merengue in Spanish class today – and I had more fun than I’ve had in three months. It was fantastic. I love dancing – I’d do it all day if I could – oh, wow.
I need to learn more steps, get a partner, and then hit the dance floor ASAP!
I swear, this summer will be the best yet. I’m still working two jobs – still volunteering as always – and, of course, I’ll still be running every morning. In the evenings I’ll still show up at someone’s house to watch movies and sit on the roof and climb trees and even walk down the street singing broadway songs at midnight with them.
But this summer, I don’t want to go to funerals.
I want to dance until the sun shivers back up into the sky and I want to stand close to someone, just to hold them—to feel them, real and tangible, beneath my fingertips. I want to make sure that I’m real—that I won’t fade away all at once, or even bit by bit. And this summer, we’ll still take walks through the woods behind my house—we’ll still go swimming at 2 AM with the moonlight pooling on the water.
But this summer, I swear I’ll feel alive.
