Sharks' Tale: Freshmen Fighting Forward

The average amount of players who attend practice is about eleven. That's just enough to play but not enough to have a substitute. Once again, the team is looking quite down. We used to have an army. Now, we have just enough. I know the odds are against us. That's the point. We're the underdogs, and the underdogs always come out on top. Our coach says that we have to work with the players we have left--forget about the others who fell out because of their grades, behavior, injuries, etc.. For once, I disagreed with him. 

I had been pondering a recent revelation. One of our starters--let's just call her Pistachio--was suspended from school earlier in the year. The reason of this suspension is not important; however, because of the suspension and the suspension alone, her Chamorro teacher--Mr. Y--gave her a "U" for a behavior grade. If a player gets a "U", he/she cannot play any longer. 

At the beginning of the season, she did not have this "U". She had to miss the first three games and deliver a very touching speech. When she played, the team felt complete. Technically, our starting line was complete. Pistachio, the right winger, was  a great player. 

Once Mr. Y found out about the suspension, he had to give her the "U". I guess it was one of his "rules". Ever since then, I've seen Pistachio cry one too many times. When she cried, I usually cried. Soon after, the whole team started falling apart. That brings us to where we are now. 

I believe that if I get Pistachio back and complete our starting line, I will give our team hope--hope for a championship. Like I said before, I know we can do it. I just need to get the others to believe too. They say they do, but honestly, I can see in their eyes that they don't. Getting Pistachio back would be like killing two birds with one stone. 

I devised a plan. Actually, I devised half a plan. The other freshmen on the team helped me come up with  another quarter of the plan. The last 25% of the plan will be made up as I go and put into action the other 75% of the plan. haha. That was kind of redundant and confusing. 

Anyways, our first playoff game is on Monday. I hope that I can reach Mr. Y by tomorrow, so we'll be complete by next week...

Oh yeah. Today (during the time between finishing stretching and starting the first drill), Red found a grasshopper. She gave it to me. I saw Regina wearing a windbreaker, so I put the grasshopper down through the neck hole. Then, she turned around and looked at Red and me. We were both smiling. Suddenly, (I guess she finally felt the grasshopper) she started screaming really loud. Regina has a pretty loud voice to start with, and I had forgotten how badly she hated bugs. The grasshopper somehow got out, but she kept on screaming and throwing that tantrum. She even started tearing. By that time, Red and I had moved to a safe distance away for fear of loss of life. Regina got mad at me. I apologized, though, and she forgave me. I think. All in all, that was a freaken scary situation. That's the last time I do that....Na, I take that back.

That's it for this chapter in Sharks' Tale. Wish me luck with Pistachio and Mr. Y.

Sharks' Tale: Notre Dame? More Like Notre Lame (:

On Saturday, the Simon Sanchez Lady Sharks met up against the Notre Dame Royals in an IIAAG (or whatever) Girls Soccer League game. We, the Sharks, lost 3-0.

It was an okay game. Truthfully, the Royals weren't what I expected. They weren't gods at the sport like I had thought. We could have beaten them.

Before the game, our coach had reminded us that this was just a practice game--not a championship match. They said that the game would be exactly what we thought it would be. If we thought it would be like any other game, then it would be. If we thought it would be hell, then it would be. Obviously, we chose to go with the latter.

Despite our coach's advice, we freaked out at the beginning. Well, I was really scared before the game started. When I saw Notre Dame play, I wasn't that impressed. We could have won. I just know it, but we decided to let our emotions get the better of us.

Surprisingly, I was the most optimistic. It was like everyone was about to cry or something. I couldn't stand it. It was so...different. I never want to see my team like that again. That's why I am making a vow to crush ND at that championship game. I know we can beat them. We held them off from scoring another goal during the whole second half.

I believe in us.

I will be writing blogs about my team's journey to the 'ship and through the 'ship. Stay tuned for more additions to Sharks' Tale.

Chapter .5?

I promised myself that I would make at least one new addition to my blog during Spring Break. I don't know what to write about. 

OOOHHH MY GOSSSSHHHH! I know what to write about! 

A long while ago, I began writing this story. I do that a lot, but I never actually get to finishing any of them. The idea for this story just hit me like an atomic bomb on an unsuspecting, very-populated city. I'm sorry if it's no Harry Potter or Twilight sort of thing. It's just strictly Jannel. I mean, that's what this blog is for anyways. 

Chapter .5

(P.S.- I don't know the title of the story yet.)

And it was love at first sight.

As he held the dying maiden in his trembling arms, his heart beat with a passion so fierce it could have frightened a lion. His mind paid no attention to the people surrounding him, only to the beautiful creature staring into his tearing eyes. 

What would his sergeant do if he saw one of his troops endangering their whole operation by showing himself to the natives? He didn't care. The only thing that mattered was right in front of him, and it was about to cease living. He felt like collapsing onto the dry, dusty ground. Fatigue had claimed his body due to the past few days of trekking across the desert. However, he could not--no, he would not--let the lady touch the ground, soiling her perfect clothing. No, that wasn't it. He just had an undeniable desire to hold her. He needed to shield her frail body from the cruel world that did this to her. How could they harm something so precious? How could they do this to an angel?

As she lay in the soldier's trembling arms, her heart beat ever so calmly with a happiness so great it could have cured a hospital full of terminally depressed patients. Her mind paid no attention to the blood seeping out of the wound in her chest or to the excruciating pain that came whenever she inhaled, only to the beautiful creature staring into her tearing eyes. 

While her last seconds slowly passed, her life did not flash before her eyes. She did not think about her mansion a continent away or about her wealthy freinds who had conducted a world-wide search for her. She merely giggled in her mind and chastised herself for taking this long to complete her mission. What would her mother do if she saw this non-royal, middle-class, adequately normal man grasping her daughter, with an ever-so-strong and loving hold, on her deathbed? The answer to this question only made her laugh. Well, it's better late than never she thought. She smiled and noticed the puzzled look on the man's face. This made her smile even more. 

Her time was nearly up, and they both new it. The soldier took a knee, still firmly, but gently, holding his love. He leaned in toward her, ever so cautiously. The look on her face told him that he had nothing to fear. So, he drew his face just a breath away from hers and softly brushed a strand of hair away from one of her eyes. She gathered all the strength left in her, lifted her head and pressed her lips against his. It was their first and last kiss. With a sigh of relief, she calmly said, "I found you."

Her glorious voice left him at a loss for words. Seeing this, the woman simply smiled (may I add, for the last time). Though full of sorrow, the man smiled back. Then, she grabbed a hold of this familiar stranger's hand and sank into her deep sleep.

All the soldier could do was stare at his limp angel. He barely resisted the temptation to scream at the top of his lungs or yell out to the heavens above, just to see if she would reply. His minute with her seemed like a lifetime full of joy, sadness, and bewilderment--a lifetime that he could never get back. A series of tears fell down his cheek. The noise around him seemed to be muted. The woman was...gone. 

After a few minutes of silence, he could no longer stand the pain. The soldier thought that he had experienced sorrow before, but he had never felt something so horrid, so breathtakingly sad as this. He finally cried. He cried so hard it hurt. He cried and cried and cried, but he realized that crying would not bring her back.

He began to walk back to the camp, still holding his love in his trembling arms. Little did he know, she had slipped an envelope into his front pocket. So concentrated on his personal paradise/hell, he failed to notice this. 

This is only like a draft of chapter .5, but I'm still working on it. I'll keep editing this addition of my blog until I feel that it's right. Check in later for chapter 1. Thanks for reading.

P.S.-If you're wondering why I called it chapter .5, I'll be glad to explain. Prologues are just too typical. I couldn't call this chapter 1 because this is obviously not where the story begins. So, I chose to use a decimal number. Plus, it's like half the size of a real chapter.

P.P.S.-Any suggestions to better my writing would be highly appreciated. 

Some Goals of Mine

I read this book called The Power of Less by the very intelligent Leo Babauta (writer of zenhabits.com), which said that publishing your goals motivates you to actually get them done. I'm going to try that idea out now with some goals I plan on accomplishing by the end of the year. It also said that I should only choose one major goal at a time, but I'm a really ambitious kid. I believe in myself.  

1. I want to learn how to control my anger and keep my composure while under stress.

2. I want to abolish my bad-word-speaking mouth.

3. I want to tap board (touch the frame of a basketball board) by the end of soccer season. 

4. I want to be a better citizen. I'll do this by getting in 4 hours of community service each month.

110%: Is it really possible?

Why do coaches always tell their players to give 110%? If I'm as smart as some people think I am, then wouldn't that mean death? I'm pretty sure coaches don't want to literally kill their players, so they shouldn't keep repeating that cliche. I mean, a hundred percent is all you got. Anymore and you would kill yourself. 

You're probably thinking that 110% is possible. What's this girl talking about? Everybody can push themselves beyond their limits. Duh. If you try your hardest and do something that you weren't able to do before, you're simply giving a hundred percent. You can improve, so each time you give your hundred percent, you get more out of it. Maybe you weren't giving a hundred percent before. Once you do give a hundred percent of heart and effort, you'll be lead to think that you were giving 110%. I hope I didn't confuse you. 

Coaches tell their players to give 110% to motivate them to do better. The thing I want to know is this: why 110%? Why do coaches use that particular number? If you really want to stress that your players should give it their all, then why not use 1,000,000%? Or maybe even an infinite percent. 

Things like this just give me something to think about while I'm doing a test or something.

Caution: Don't give 110% in trying to understand this. You may put yourself into a mental lapse or a coma.

Something Better Than Ice Cream and Truffles

How To Be a Bad Best Friend

I've been somewhat of a careless friend. Heck, I'm not going to sugar coat it. I've been a really bad friend. Once I realized that, the first thing that popped into my mind was blogging it down. Writing things down helps me to think more clearly about them. To add a little twist to my subject, I'm going to make a manual on how to be a bad friend. It's a 'What Not to Do' sort of thing. Hopefully, I'll get that I have to do the opposite of what I'm typing. 

1. First, you have to be a good best friend. You have to be so good of a friend that nobody expects that you'll turn bad later on. You can't be a bad friend if you were never a good one. If you were never a good friend and you are a bad friend, then you might as well just call yourself a stranger. I'm not sure if that made sense.

2. Once you manage to become a great best friend, you have to get jealous. You have to get insecure about your friendship, and think that you're going to lose your friend to someone she/he just started talking to. Do everything to win back your friend even though you haven't lost her/him yet. Get clingy. The outcome of this should be your best friend thinking that you don't want her/him to have their own life. This will really make them want to get rid of you. 

3. After you screwed up big time getting jealous, you have to get mad. You have to get mad about you and your best friend drifting apart. Argue with her/him about the silliest things. Don't give way even if your friend is right. Be stubborn. 

4. The fighting has been done and your best friend wants to talk. This part is very important. You absolutely, positively have to NOT LISTEN TO HER/HIM. Listening is for losers. You're still the stubborn person you were a day ago. Stick with your side. Don't think about how she/he feels. You're the one who has been hurt. Am I right or what?

5. After your best friend stops trying to talk to you, do what the cool people do. Ignore them. Act like you're better off without them even though you really miss your best friend. Hang out with other people. When your friend asks you a question in class, pretend that you didn't hear her/him and walk away. This should make them think that you completely forgot about them. 

6. This is the final step in the process--the deal maker. Once this is done, your best friend will be your ex-best friend. Think back. Think way back, to the time when everything was cool between you and your friend. Did you make a big promise to her/him? The answer should be yes. Most best friends have at least one promise between them. Well, once you chose the biggest promise you can remember, BREAK IT. Break it and broadcast it to the world. If your friend asks about why you did it, come up with some dumb excuse that could have been avoided if you were a good friend.  

Congratulations!

You have just mastered being a bad friend and lost your best friend in the process. Whoopee! 

P.S.- I exaggerated a bit on the steps. I don't want you thinking that I'm some crazy person, or do I? 

Eating an Ice Cream Sandwich

Writer's block sucks. Hopefully, eating this ice cream sandwich will help my creative flow.

Wait for it...

Keep waiting...

Not there yet...(I'm quite mad because I cannot undo the underlining of my words.)

Just a trifle longer... (mmmm, that reminds me of truffles :)

There are two main types of truffle in this world.

There's the ugly looking fungus one that is--for some weird reason--considered a delicacy in many countries. Can you believe that this can cost up to $670 a pound? I sure can't.

   Ewww.

Then there is the delicious chocolate truffle. It usually contains a delectable, creamy chocolate filling. This is usually surrounded by a nice, delicious, and shiny coat of chocolate or cocoa powder. It's amazing how two things that share the same name can be so different.

My mouth is watering. 

This blog will continue until I can think of something better to write about than truffles and ice cream.