Sunday, August 30, 2009

Summer, can't you last forever?

Life doesn't stop just because you will it to. I've figured this out the hard way. You see, school is starting up for me in less than 24 hours -- inservice, that is -- and now that I've had a full month of vacation I've finally settled into the blissful mode of doing nothing. Ordinarily this would frustrate me being jobless and all, but since I purposely chose this lifestyle for the summer, I told myself I would not complain about getting to sleep in, and stay up late, and decide that dinner time is two in the morning. And now that I've tasted this side of life, I really don't care to forfeit it for the sake of pubescent teens who don't give a crap about reading a good book or forming a grammatically correct sentence.
And ever since I returned from my hometown, life has been going nonstop. If it's not a wedding it's soccer daily doubles, and if it's not soccer it's meetings (which will start tomorrow at the ugly time of 7:30), and if it's not a meeting or two it's spending hours at Les Schwab letting them drain me of money I DON'T HAVE. As I contemplate these things, I am also scheduling some time with friends I will never see after classes start because I'll be so exhausted trying to build lesson plans at the last minute or instructing girls on how to do a chest trap without damaging the goods. Goodbye social life, hello high school. Again.

The sun finally broke through the clouds after hovering so close to my window I can almost touch it. Perhaps this is a sign that things are not as bad as they seem. Or God just wants me to see the sun before the perpetual clouds take over the skies. Either way, I am scheduled for a walk in one hour, and there is no way the weather is going to stop me from getting proper exercise.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

I finally cracked under the pressure

Sometimes I hate that I'm supposed to be the "good daughter". I hate having to be the only one my parents are proud of; the one they peg all their hopes and dreams about having an "accomplished" child. Sure, you'd think that being the child being raved about all the time would make me pretty smug, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. It just means that I have all this astounding pressure to
succeed. Do I want to succeed? Of course. But I think I would be just as content to succeed according to my own conditions rather than the parentals.

It's amazing how much one can get away with when they're so focused on the shortcomings of a sibling. As long as I don't appear as "bad," then I fly clean and clear under the radar. You see, being a "success" has plenty of advantages -- the main one being the complete trust of the parents. I get good grades, I don't have a boyfriend, and I stay relatively on track with my life goals, so all that equals a daughter that is offered the forgiveness card anytime I appear slightly irresponsible. I'm spoiled, what can I say? Believe me, I've rebelled for the sole sake of seeing if they'd respond to me like they do to the prodigal daughter, but rebellion only gets recognition if it is known. It does no good being three-hundred miles away and living my life if there's no one here to frown at me with dissatisfaction. I'm not saying that I'm a disastrous failure of a daughter, only that I like pushing the boundaries my parents would rather I stay in. Yes, I'm not a child anymore, but I know
exactly what they disapprove of, and sometimes it's exhilarating sticking a toe or two over that line.

I think this is only preparing me for a life of irresponsibility and pushing the envelope -- all for the sake of the thrill. I am officially in need of psychiatric help. My name is Lissa and I am a mini rebel, a thrill seeker. I can never marry. Who knows if it isn't simply for the satisfaction of shocking my parents, and not for love?
I need to be admitted somewhere. Anyone know the number for the nearest psych ward?

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

10 Reasons Why Soccer Players Are The Way To Go:

Now these are in complete random order because, let's face it, you can't put one above the other.

10. Fantastic bodies. I mean, seriously, have you seen these lean, mean, six-pack machines?

9. Perfect proportions. Okay, so I'm elaborating on #10, but let's get down to business. Looking at athletes in general, basketball players are too tall and gangly, track runners have NO meat on them, football players are WAY too bulky -- either with muscle or fat, who really knows? And then there's baseball players...oddly tall but with fatty beer-bellies. Don't even get me started on golfers -- they are just too flabby. Solution: Soccer players. Perfect bodies: not too tall, not too bulky, and definitely not fat. :)

8. Great reflexes. And for kicks and giggles, I'll thrown flexibility in here too. Bicycle kicks; need I say more?

7. Amazing speed. Yes siree, they were born to run (alright, track stars are born to run, but soccer players do it gracefully).

6. I have never seen an ugly one. (Okay, there was one from some 3rd world country I don't even remember -- but only one.)

5. Endurance. They keep going, and going and going......

4. Not to knock any other professional sport, but they aren't known for their drinking habits. Good, save the liver.

3. They don't need time-outs. For a sport that outlasts basketball, and plays on a field larger than football, soccer players can go all day without a break.

2. They still have a brain left in their head. Yup, they are calculating, intuitive, and anticipate other players like nobody's business. Watch a really good professional game and notice how they move in accordance to their own teammates and the other team. It's flawless how beautifully they form triangles seemingly out of nowhere. They anticipate the opposing team in a way that looks almost like a dance. It's like sex on a field.

1. They claim freakin David Beckham. 'Nuff said.

Monday, August 3, 2009

And the truth shall set you free

I just got back from watching "Ugly Truth" in the theater and let me tell you, it's an eye-opener. Not something that should be watched right after "He's Just Not That Into You" -- I mean, let's face it, we women don't need that big of a dose of depression because we are somehow unworthy of love by a fabulous man and are inadvertently driving 'the one' away with our own intense personalities. And we especially don't need to be told that all man are essentially dogs. We get enough of that in the real world, so let us just escape into fairytale land and see what men of our dreams would look like if they were real. Seriously. Sure, we've all heard the line, "men are simple, stop trying to analyze us!" but do they really expect us to just stop trying to read them? That's like asking a guy to stop staring at a woman's.....more eye-catching attributes. Men do it. They don't even care if we notice. We get offended. But then we analyze what they do and say in an effort to understand this somehow baffling male gender. And they get frustrated. And irritated. No, the more appropriate word is: pissed. It's a vicious cycle. They stare, we analyze. Let's just all accept these facts and move on.
Anyway, what's the point of playing off men as insensitive, horny, bastards? Yes I said the "I" word. Are they really like that? As much as a rash of movies suddenly want us to get it through our skull that men really are simple and care more about the physical than anything else a woman has to offer, I still can't swallow that story. Now does this make me deranged? Am I just holding on to a false hope that someday I will find my prince charming to sweep me off my feet in the way that all old-fashioned love stories portray? Is this kind of love even realistic? Or am I right? Do men want to love a woman the way women want to be loved? I'm not a complete idiot that believes that the physical is only lust. No siree, God made us with a certain amount of sex appeal for a reason. So when is the line crossed where the physical is finally put on the back burner? When does personality, character, virtue actually get recognized?
Here's a clue to men: women DO want to be seen as beautiful and sexy, but that's not ALL we want to be known for. Why do you think women are so insecure? It's because any moment we're waiting for the time when we are no longer seen as physically attractive, and don't feel as though we will be sought after for anything more. And that is the moment of abandonment. The suspense is killing us. So we put everything into making our outer shell into something extravagant. We nearly kill ourselves putting together the perfect body, spend hours in front of a mirror perfecting our face--makeup, moisturizer, perfectly arched brows--and let's not forget the hair--is it cut right? curled right? do I need bangs? should I get rid of the bangs? straight or crimped? You have NO idea. And then there's clothes that need to be carefully picked out. See, we want to look appealing without going overboard (not only for the occasion, but to not out-dress you). We want sexy, not slutty. Where is the line drawn? This gets more confusing when men prefer different....styles.
You see the dilemma? Yes, this probably backs up your opinion that women are crazy. But understand that is due partially to you. Men: the bane of our existence in more ways than one.