Twelve Years Later...

Where am I going to be in twelve years? Who am I going to be?

What life will I be living?

These questions were frequent visitors to the confines of my ever-busy mind. Then, I had THE VISION.

After years and years of incessant debating...

Rich or satisfactorily paid?

Alone or with family?

White picket fence or parking meter?

Cat lady or animal-denouncer?

...everything fell together in a few minutes of smooth contemplation.

I know what I want. And here it is:

The big city wakes up.

The honking of cars, the flapping of pigeon wings, the incredible blast of a stereo alarm--those big city sounds begin.

A woman of six-and-twenty years of age rises from bed. It's me.

"Good morning Jasper," I say as I pat my loyal Golden Retriever. He replies with a perky bark, jumps onto my bed, and gives me an affectionate wake-up lick.

"Ready boy?" I walk over to the stereo, lower the volume to a pleasurable setting, and commence with the rest of my morning routine.

Breakfast. "Frosted Flakes are moooooore than good. They're grrrrrreat!" I chant as the favored cereal is prepared. Milk in a separate cup. Just how I like it. Jasper sees my meal and heads to his eating spot.

We finish breakfast. I head to the bathroom. Mirror, good ol' sport, let me give you the time of day.

Blast it. Still got that overbite. Chose to skip out on the ever-popular brace-phase; however, a whitening took place.

I smile with my pearly whites. I love my smile--not out of conceitedness, but contentment. Then, I jump in the shower. I never was one to prolong the bathing experience, so I'm out in a jiffy.

I take a look at that good ol' sport, again, with my treasured smile. Then I break out the toothbrush. Brush, brush, brush...

I get the hair in the identifying ponytail that is Jannel. That didn't change.

Luckily, some things did. No more contacts or glasses. Thank god--no more goggles. That surgery was worth every penny.

I throw on some garb, kick up my Nikes, and walk onto the balcony. Jasper follows, as is custom.

Leaning on the rail, "It's a new day Jasper, ol' pal ol' buddy. Wonderful isn't it?" I speak these words in a hushed tone. The wonder is overwhelming. It's all too perfect. I inhale a big whiff of the big city air--pigeon crap, exhaust, body odor from down below. I suppress a cough and laugh, amused at the fact that I love it. I absolutely love it all. A few more minutes and then it's back inside. I gather all my things. Not much really. Just my money. I never did get a wallet. My license. Though I don't have a car to use it with. My phone. And all my other little bits of whatevers.

I look around my studio condo. Everythings in order. My extensive shelves of books are all safe and strong. My stereo is off. My sofas are...being sofas. My computer is sleeping. My table is clear. My kitchen is tidy. Everything seems to be in order. So simple. So relaxing. So much space.

Bark!

Oh yes, I mustn't forget my good-bye lick. Jasper trots up to me and does exactly that. I return the love--with a pat of course. "See ya later boy." And I leave.

"Hello Tamar." I see my best friend, who resides right across from me. She smiles that loud smile I know and love. We head to the elevator.

"Top o' the mornin to ya Ms. Banks and Ms. Celis," says George, the amiable front-desk-man. "Have a great day at work."

"You too George. Oh yeah! if Jeff stops by, tell him I'm...ummm...dead or something. Make something up. You know the deal." I say with an apprehensive smile. Another one of those corny admirers. Males are still unappealing. "Please and thanks."

"You got it ma'am." He says as he jots a reminder down on his notepad. Tamar hails a cab. We board it; it's a Tuesday, so we let our bikes rest.

[We head to our mutual workplace. A hospital most likely. We both have jobs in the medical field. Or (in Tamar's VISION) we head to our separate workplaces, which happen to be rivaling hospitals.]

Hours are up. Time to head back home.

After laughing hysterically after a nerdy joke was passed, I say, "So, besides that, anything interesting occur?"

"Yeah. This cute guy had an appointment with me. Turns out he needs heart surgery. So [assuming Tamar is a heart surgeon] once I save his life, I might just ask him out to dinner. He's too sweet Jannel. And--get this--he has a British accent!"

"Nice find Tamar. Wait, did you check his marital status? You know what happened last time..." And the conversation continues until we pull up to some Chinese place. "Man. I'm a-hungerin' for some real food. You can only eat so many TV dinners."

"I feel you Jannel. Lucky Ling Chao's has such a convenient location." The Chinese restaurant is right across our condo. We get off the taxi, pay the driver, and walk inside. We're periodic regulars at Chao's. We go through the memorized menu in our heads and immediately order. We're really hungry.

After we finish our meal, we walk home.

"Hey George," we both exclaim as we pass through the building's squeaky-clean glass doors.

"Hey ladies. How was your day?"

"Splendid," answers Tamar.

"Yup," I agree.

"Ms. Banks, I informed Jeff of your unexpected departure into the better place. He expressed his deepest sympathy to Ms. Tamar and left this gift basket he was supposed to give to the living you."

"Thanks George. You can keep it."

"No, thank you ma'am. I love all the gifts your admirers present. Keep it up and I'll have a basement full of delectable wines." Tamar and I laugh and bid farewell till the next day. We head up to our domiciles and part.

I open the door to a playful Jasper. He gets upright and again gives me that affectionate lick of his. "I missed you too buddy."

It's study time. I browse through my great collection of literature and select a rather large volume on quantum mechanics. I sit on my favored sofa and read until I feel heavy-eyed.

Brush, brush, brush, brush...Untie ponytail. Quick shower. Throw on some sleep garb. "Jasper." I call. He prepares his usual spot on my bed. Once he's done, I shut off the light and close my eyes.

The shutting off of cars, the landing of pigeons, the soft respiration of my loyal Golden Retriever--those big city sounds lead me away into Sleepland.

The big city sleeps.

But that's only one uneventful weekday.

How not to break up

Remember that post "Something Better Than Ice Cream and Truffles"? I hope you do, because just like that how to be a bad best friend thing, this post is going to be a what-not-to-do sort of thing.

Today, we'll talk about the proper way to break up if you want to crush someone's feelings and ruin your current relationship--and any other future ones--with them. I would like you to think that this is all hypothetical because, frankly, it's really embarrassing.

1. Location, location, location. It's all about where and when you break up with your partner. A phone break-up early in the morning or a myspace message when the receiver isn't online to respond are both great examples (they let your partner know that you don't give a dang about him/her enough to do it in person). If a break-up occurs in the morning, the heart-broken one will have the whole rest-of-the-day to contemplate it. If they have something important to do, like a swim-meet or play for instance, then that would be a big additive to the overall effect of the parting.

If you would like to show your partner that you have some guts, then by all means, end it in person. There are tons of ways to make this even worse than a myspace message or a phone call. I'll give you a good example:

A girl's boyfriend seems to have joined their school's cross-country team (which she is on as well) to get the chance to see her over the summer. The team has morning practices from 5:30-7:30 at their school. The girl can't stand to be in the relationship any longer, so she chooses the time after the main exercise and cool down (which takes place in the school's parking lot) to bring it to an end.

This situation is a great exemplification of my point. She chose the very-early morning (where everybody is a bit grumpy and restless), and to top it off, she selected a great location. Who wants to be broken up with in a parking lot? No one! That's the beauty of it. Plus, the presence of their cross-country teammates will make it hard for the breakee to express his feelings (i.e. cry, shout in anger, etc.).

2. Okay, you chose your location, now you got to have the conversation. I'll let the example give you some pointers:

The girl finishes her run and walks over to her boyfriend. She calls him away from a conversation he was having with one of his friends and takes him to a free parking space between two not-so-tall cars. "Celery (pretend name of boy), you remind me of Edward Cullen (perfect vampire boyfriend from Twilight)."

Hey, this girl is pretty good. She begins with a metaphor that nobody would connect with breaking up.

"You're smart, kind of look like him in a Japanese-ish way, and judging by your 5k times, you're pretty fast too..."

Great! She complements him. This assures him that the conversation is not even remotely related to breaking up.

"But the thing is, Celery, I'm more of a Team Jacob kind of girl." Celery looks confused. Carrot (pretend name of girl) continues, "If you don't get it, I'm breaking up with you." Celery continues to look confused. "I'm. Breaking. Up. With. You."

This girl's good enough to be a teacher of the subject! She ABRUPTLY suppresses all his hope in two sentences, and STRESSES the fact that she was breaking up with him--no mercy at all!

"I never really liked liked you. I thought you were cute and nice and all, but everybody just assumed that I, you know, liked you. I felt pressured into saying yes by my friends and stuff. So yeah. Please don't feel bad. I mean, I really really like you as a friend. I think that's why I'm doing this. I like you better as a friend, so I hope we do continue to be friends. "

"Ok...," says Celery, who still has a confused look on his face.

"Yup, well...that's it." Carrot runs into the gym to get a drink of water because she forgot to do so after her run.

Carrot zooms through the conversation and leaves little space for Celery to put the pieces together--to get a better understanding. (She also must have diminished Celery's self-confidence when she said that she never really liked liked him.) As for the ending, way to go Carrot! As suddenly as it starts, it ends. She runs, giving Celery the idea that she has better things to do than answer his questions.

3. What if he does ask questions? What then? Here comes the example to answer those questions:

Practice is over, and Carrot is walking to the locker room. Celery comes through the gym door and says, "Wait Carrot! Can you explain why again?" Carrot sighs/exhales deeply.

The incorporation of a sigh implies that Carrot wants Celery to leave her alone already.

"Celery, it's not you; it's me."

Nice phrase. It's the oldest one in the book.

"I mean, you'd be a perfect boyfriend for any other girl, just not this one. I'm guess I'm kind of weird. Well, I guess that's it again." Carrot walks briskly into the locker room leaving Celery alone in the dust.

Carrot says the words quickly once again and acts as if it's not a big deal. She also leaves Celery with no comfort words at all.

4. You completed the break-up. Now, you have to follow through. Have no communication whatsoever with your ex-partner even though you said that you really wanted to be friends. Soon, it will seem to you like you never went out with him/her; however, your ex-whatever will be scarred for quite a long time.

There you have it. Another great what-not-to-do manual by this one kid.

*Important*

NOT APART OF THE MANUAL

If you really don't like your partner (as in everything he/she does irritates the hell out of you or something to that effect), then you must break up as soon as possible. Leading him/her on will not help your cause. Try to end it as nicely as possible by doing the exact opposite of the above manual.

Sharks' Tale: The Semi Finals

On Wednesday, the Sharks met up with the Eagles at an IIAAG Girls Soccer semifinal match.

I must say--that was one of the scariest and happiest games of my soccer career.

Two of our starters could not make it to the game because their Confirmation was scheduled for that day. Especially with our already-low numbers, that was a blow to our confidence.

We started the game at a "low point", with a "sad attitude" as Coach Canos put it. Obviously, that meant that we played at a low level.

Harvest scored first this time. Heather Thompson knocked one in from a breakaway. It severely damaged our confidence. For me, it increased my anger and desire to score.

We got Harvest back when I received a cross from Asha. I pushed the ball past the goalie and crossed it to Virlynn. She was all alone near the opposite side of the goal. In the nanoseconds watching my cross, I hoped with all my heart that she would touch it in.

She did. We all started screaming, and the crowd went wild. The goal had given us hope. At that moment, I knew we were going to win. We had just needed a little push.

Sadly, Harvest scored again. Our team wasn't looking too good after that. We were falling apart. It was a good thing that it was halftime.

The coaches and captains had their talks. It was all about our attitudes. We were afraid. We were afraid that we wouldn't be playing that 6:30 game on Saturday. (The third place game is at 4:30, and Coach Lunod hates 4:30 games.) Our coaches and captains calmed our fears. We had nothing to be afraid of. We had beaten Harvest before. We knew we were the better team. Everyone knew. We just had to play our game.

We did exactly that.

After a mishap in Harvest's box, I vollied a shot into the top right corner. We got our momentum going. Later, I headed in a beautiful cross from Regina. We kept our momentum going. If you're keepin track, the Sharks were up 3-2 at this point.

After I made that last goal, Coach Canos put me back at defense. We needed speed to match the opposing team's stryker.

The rest of the game was a breeze. The ball rarely came on our half.

Well, that's that game. Now, we are headed to our Championship (notice how I said OUR Championship :). We're ready for ND. I stand by what I said in the first chapter of this tale: I believe in my team. We'll take it all the way.


P.S.-Justine was having a bad day with the referee. He was missing all the fouls that Heather (opposing team's stryker) was making on her. When the ref. finally made a good call, she did somethings stupid. She raised up her hands (like the way someone does when they ask someone else to fight) and said, "Thank you!". The referee had blown his whistle when Justine said, "thank". He only heard her say "you" and had inferred that she said, "F*ck you". Well, that was obviously yellow-card material. She was out for the rest of the game. That was sad, but when you look back at the situation, it's crack-ass funny :D.

Sharks' Tale: One Down, Two to go

Amazing--that is the word that most people might use to describe how the Sharks played tonight. 

Our coach always stressed that it was the playoffs that were the real deal. "A new season begins with the quarter-finals (our first playoff game)," he says.

We learned from the mistakes we made in our regular-season/practice games. Today, we began a new. The Sharks are in a frenzy, and nothing can stop us now. 

We drew blood first when I placed a side shot into the goal. Everything else just came along once we got our momentum going. Red scored from a breakaway. Laura scored a tough shot in the box. Asha received a nice cross from Red and touched it in. 

Our coach felt comfortable with the score, so he switched up the line. The strykers played fullbacks (I was sweeper), and the fullbacks played up top. It was a simply splendid game. 

At last, I was awarded a game ball. (The coaches give one out after each game.) "Finally!" I said. "I love it so much I could make out with it." Coach Lunod just looked at me like I was crazy. I was obviously exaggerating, but I did lick Piglet--my ball--to claim it as my own. 

Coach Canos implanted into our heads that we are now in a one-game season. We only get one chance to win a game. If we fail, then our season is over. That's a lot of pressure on us.

Obviously, this is just the beginning. But like I said before, I have the utmost confidence in the Sharks. We're going all the way to the 'ship. 

Next game, I believe we face the Harvest Christian Academy Eagles. They're a good team, but we'll see who's best on Wednesday. The Sharks just have to come in fearless and finish strong. 

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.

Apathetic

I have acquired this particular feeling. It may mean that I'm going through my mid-life crisis at an early age. The thing is, I feel quite bored...with everything.

It all started after my first off-island soccer trip. I left the airport and felt like something just killed me. Though, I'm not saying that I'm emo or whatever.

My coach said that everybody feels different after their first trip. I don't think that that's the case right now. Let me try to explain how I'm feeling.

One second I'm laughing at a joke. The next second, I feel this emptiness in the pit of my stomach. I feel like I'm on an elevator, completely alone. Then, I get to thinking about my purpose in life and what I have to look forward too. Usually, the thing that keeps me excited and going is soccer. Now, I feel apathetic towards that and all other things. I need excitement. I need something to motivate me-to get me through the day. It's all so boring. I feel like-no, I don't feel. Geeeeezzzz! This stinks. I can't really feel anger, but I can type it.