today, our woodbridge basketball jv coach resigned.
no, he didn't give up on us. (we went undefeated this year, for god's sake.) but it was a circumstantial situation, and it was a choice between coaching us (which makes less than half of minimum wage. that's just completely wrong. he deserves WAY more) or his job.
i lost the experience of playing high school basketball for a year because i tore my acl.
and now it feels like a much, much greater loss because i also lost the potential i had to become so much better under coach hattrup. aka the best coach on the planet. (and if you're looking for credentials, he's won like national coach of the year before, back when he coached varsity at brea. national as in, in the ENTIRE COUNTRY. the guy's a genius.)
i feel like such a dumbass.
if you've followed my blog since like fall of 2008, you've probably stumbled across an entry that went something along the lines of, "hattrup is the bane of my existence."
god. i was such an idiot.
seriously, it feels like there's a whole new meaning to "you don't know what you have till it's gone."
granted, hattrup could be a total jerk sometimes. but honestly, it was only because he cared so much about us. he actually gave a damn whether or not we'd improve over the year. and he put in so much effort. basketball is...or was, i guess, his heart and soul.
not to mention, he was like the heart and soul of, specifically, woodbridge basketball.
we're going to miss you, coach.
ps. i know this probably seems rather dramatic. but honestly, you had to be there. everyone on the team cried. and i don't think anyone who hasn't ever played for coach hattrup is really fully capable of understanding how great of a loss this is.
Mar 29, 2009
letting go.
so this weekend i started cleaning my room and deleting some of the old files on my computer (which is a dinosaur. i've had it since like 5th grade. seriously, i still have my 5th grade state report on indiana & my alphabet book on neopets.) and i realized that i am, depending on how you look at things, either a) a pack rat, b) extremely sentimental, or c) a slob. or maybe choice d: all of the above.
anyways, i dont know whether this is just my neighborhood, but every month or so a truck comes to pick up clothing for donation in these huge pink plastic bags that they leave in your door handles. after going through all my old clothes, which consisted of clothing that i literally bought in 6th grade (during my limited too phase), i ended up filling up like 3 of the bags. although, to be fair, some of the stuff was my sister's. i found a lot of tournament t-shirts that have accumulated over the years, plus a few tennis camp shirts, strangely enough. i donated most of these. and i have all 5 of my irvine junior games t-shirts from grades 4-8! yellow, red, teal, purple, navy. couldnt give those up, aha. i dunno why, it just feels like they're a part of me.
anyways. i'm getting off track. the point is, i'm really bad at saying goodbye. even to inanimate objects and trivial things, like old teddy bears with stuffing hanging out. how am i ever going to go away to college? haha i'll probably end up bringing 10 suitcases filled to the brim with junk. woe is the poor girl who has to room with me. but i suppose i have 3 years left to perfect the skill of letting go. at least with things. saying goodbye to people is much harder. and really, long-distance relationships just don't work. not even necessarily romantic relationships, but friendships as well. you know what they say: out of sight, out of mind. my best friend goes to irvine high, which is probably less than 5 miles away from woodbridge, (not to mention we live less than 30 seconds away from each other by car, 5 min walking) and yet i feel us drifting. how am i ever going maintain friendships after high school?
maybe it's easier just to not get attached.
anyways, i dont know whether this is just my neighborhood, but every month or so a truck comes to pick up clothing for donation in these huge pink plastic bags that they leave in your door handles. after going through all my old clothes, which consisted of clothing that i literally bought in 6th grade (during my limited too phase), i ended up filling up like 3 of the bags. although, to be fair, some of the stuff was my sister's. i found a lot of tournament t-shirts that have accumulated over the years, plus a few tennis camp shirts, strangely enough. i donated most of these. and i have all 5 of my irvine junior games t-shirts from grades 4-8! yellow, red, teal, purple, navy. couldnt give those up, aha. i dunno why, it just feels like they're a part of me.
anyways. i'm getting off track. the point is, i'm really bad at saying goodbye. even to inanimate objects and trivial things, like old teddy bears with stuffing hanging out. how am i ever going to go away to college? haha i'll probably end up bringing 10 suitcases filled to the brim with junk. woe is the poor girl who has to room with me. but i suppose i have 3 years left to perfect the skill of letting go. at least with things. saying goodbye to people is much harder. and really, long-distance relationships just don't work. not even necessarily romantic relationships, but friendships as well. you know what they say: out of sight, out of mind. my best friend goes to irvine high, which is probably less than 5 miles away from woodbridge, (not to mention we live less than 30 seconds away from each other by car, 5 min walking) and yet i feel us drifting. how am i ever going maintain friendships after high school?
maybe it's easier just to not get attached.
Mar 17, 2009
the unbearable lightness of being.
"We all need somebody to look at us. We can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under.
The first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public…
The second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. They are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners…
Then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. Their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. One day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark.
And finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. They are the dreamers.”
The first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public…
The second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. They are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners…
Then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. Their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. One day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark.
And finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. They are the dreamers.”
Mar 16, 2009
I HATE PDA.
seriously, get a room or something.
stop rubbing it into the faces of us perpetually-single people.
stop rubbing it into the faces of us perpetually-single people.
sup.
shopping for tiffany's gift basket!
ilytiff. sweetsixteeen<3
my best friend.
i miss the days where we just laughed about nothing.
Mar 8, 2009
anuptaphobia.
i think i'm going to grow up to be one of those old ladies that live on the floor above you that you feel sorry for because they're
1) old 2) single 3) childless.
how sad.
found this somewhere on the internet.
1) old 2) single 3) childless.
how sad.
found this somewhere on the internet.
Mar 7, 2009
i really want a nice camera
so i can do/use/make bokeh.
Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. - Le Petit Prince
Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. - Le Petit Prince
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