Tag Archive | baseball

Still Alive *let the world rejoice*

msray2008.com

msray2008.com

It’s always hard to come back after a long absence. This much has been demonstrated by the string of ill-fated train-wrecks released by Psy since Gangnam Style rocked the world. I don’t know if I can keep writing with the gusto I did a year ago, and I’m quite worried that I’ll let you guys down. Heck, I don’t even know if anyone will read this, I have been told that if one stops blogging regularly, one loses a great deal of readership. People of the ultimate achievement of Spiderman (get it? the Web. oh dear, what am I saying), I don’t want to end up like Psy, which is why I intend to make my return to the world of blogging as triumphantly as possible. There’s only one problem: when I try to be triumphant, I usually end up doing something stupid and causing the severe embarrassment of everyone around me, while I stare at the results of my so-called triumph and wonder where the fudge I went wrong. So this time, instead of proudly prancing around before tripping and falling down the stairs (which, um, never happened *gag*), I’m going to triumph by slowly easing back into The Mostly Confused Teenager, hopefully as easily as Rory Williams comes back to life every time he dies.

For the past few months, I have been a nerdy, anti-social recluse. Now this has been caused partly by the great deal of exams I have had to take and partly by the power of procrastination, which lately has been taking the form of Game of Thrones episodes. I had finals in April, the SAT in June and the first part of my baccalaureate strangling me from behind until a few days ago. Over this period of time I became a pale, weak version of an apricot, who’s sad life consisted of getting up having slept an average of 5 hours, struggling through the morning, working at lunch, looking like a zombie in the afternoon and going straight to the library after classes until it closed. I thank the great cookie in the sky that I was too busy to blog, otherwise The Mostly Confused Teenager would have been replete with inspiring statements to be read in overly melodramatic voices such as:
“The wind and rain are howling and lashing inside my soul”
“My one comfort is knowing that the world will still have cookies once I’m gone” or even
“I will only be happy again once the Mets have won the World Series”
Depressing huh? It was a dark time for good old CT, and when I got to the point where I was relying on a completely hopeless team for happiness I realized that I needed to snap out of it.

So, ladies, gentlemen, both, neither and aliens, here I am; on vacation and back to my old if slightly more wrinkled self. And as I age with as much grace and wisdom as Yoda (shh. no comment. let me live out my dream); return to blogging I will.

Live long and prosper \V/
Sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: Happy 4th of July to all you ‘Muricans out there. May you overdrink, overeat and overspend in peace and freedom.

The 5 Stages of Finals

impendingdoomAfter a certain amount of studying, you start to look decrepit, with dull eyes, terribly close to bursting into a fireball before ending up as a sad little pile of ashes. But once that last final is over, the last “TIME!” called by a bored, grumpy teacher, you rise from those ashes.

To those who got the Harry Potter reference to Fawkes, my supreme geekness commends you (yup, we’re back to making up words), although I’m not saying that I look like a half-plucked turkey or… um… whatever. I realize that I’m just digging a hole for myself but once you start it’s awfully hard to stop *sigh of resignation*

Having spent the last month on an TV, movie and blog hiatus; I am fully aware of the apocalyptic consequences that too much work can bring upon a person. In fact, now that I have a New Perspective (Panic! At the Disco reference! My, two references already, what is happening?) I can safely conclude that finals, or indeed any big test or series of tests resemble quite astonishingly the 5 stages of grief. I hereby elaborate.

STAGE #1: DENIAL AND ISOLATION

Finals? What finals? Oh those test things that we have soon? Those are still two weeks away though.. I have loads of time! Anyway they aren’t that important right? I mean who cares! Gosh, I do wish everyone would stop talking about them, it’s getting to be overbearing and stressful. I say implement the ‘zen-attitude’: [takes voice of a stoner] Life man… that’s what’s important… not some numbers on the top of a page that has been marked with the red blood of a teacher thirsty for revenge on innocent students because he/she failed to get their dream job of mixing cocktails in Tahiti. Chill dude, chill. Everything will be fine.

STAGE #2: ANGER

You know what? F*ck them. They have no right to come in like the monsters that they are and ruin our lives, especially around Christmas! We’re teenagers for crap’s sake, we should be out enjoying life, not studying in a crammed little space for hours on end only to end up with a shit*y grade anyway. And who on this planet wants to spend 4 non-stop hours trying to force yourself through math finals in a room underground with no artificial light and a heat so hot (please ignore the sentence structure, anger doesn’t bring out grammar skills) that you’re in a comatose state and come out looking like you’ve just served your 3rd tour in a war ridden country? You know what we should do? We should boycott finals. You heard me! If no one is there to take them then nothing will happen! They can’t fail us all, the school’s reputation is too important. Who’s with me? COME ON PEOPLE, RISE UP AGAINST THE ENEMY! No? No one? Oh fine. Chickens.

STAGE #3: BARGAINING

I’ve been at this for too long, my eyes are watering and my muscles are about to atrophy from lack of movement. I’ll just take a five minute break OK? Only five minutes… please, I’m on my knees here! *five minutes later* Oh dear apricot, what have I done? I needed those five minutes didn’t I. And now that I’ve wasted them doing completely irrelevant things like hydrating and breathing fresh air, I’m going to fail. Well, time to pray. O Great Cookie, please help me ace this final! You see it’s indispensable for my future and junk like that. If you can’t help me ace it, can you at least make sure that I don’t fail? I’ll give you anything if you do! That sounded so wrong. Let’s say, I’ll give you one of my most prized possessions: my signed David Wright baseball. AAAAH nope sorry can’t do it.

STAGE #4: DEPRESSION

What’s the point, I’m going to fail anyway. From there it’s just a simple chain reaction: once I’ve failed finals, that will inhibit my graduation and I’ll end up flunking out of high school. Goodbye sweet college dreams, goodbye nice house and comfortable salary. Hello winter, hello alcoholism and bridge that is my new home. I might as well just hunker down under my covers and watch the Patriots get beat by the frickin’ Dolphins. So close to #1 seed… The pain, oh the pain…

STAGE #5: ACCEPTANCE

I guess that at a certain point, whatever happens will happen. It is best, when presented with such a series of events, to go about things with an approach close to the philosophy of stoicism. Just purge yourself from all emotions and become a robot for a month. Nothing must affect you, you are a rock. Nope, not even the video of the cute kitten playing hide-and-seek. No, not the guy getting hit in the nuts by a little kid playing baseball. Oh man that is classic. NO, CT. ROBOT.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to The Mostly Confused Teenager.

Live long and prosper \V/
Yours sincerely,
The Mostly Confused Teenager.

It’s Just That Time of Year

Unfortunately I’m not talking about the holiday season (although the pumpkin spice latte is back at Starbucks!! It costs a third of my weekly allowance but it tastes so good. Oh dear I just went fangirly over a drink. I really need a boyfriend). I’m talking about the beginning of October, when the days are getting shorter, the weather getting rainier and the teachers getting crankier. This, associated with football season and the start of the MLB postseason results in students experiencing what I call the kangaroo syndrome. To explain briefly, the kangaroo syndrome chooses it’s victims by degree of addiction to movies and TV shows: once you have been chosen you will experience periods of nothingness (quite literally) before going into full blown hyperactive mode. It’s a familiar feeling, occuring every year since we realized that we actually had to study for tests (boy, what a shock that was huh?).

So today my morning consisted of an hour and a half math test immediately followed by an hour and a half french test. SO MUCH FUN RIGHT? No. My guess is that teachers, having been on a no grading hiatus for two months, are extremely thirsty to inflict pain on their students (penpal xx). So because of this grueling schedule I haven’t had much/hardly any/any time for myself and thus for the Mostly Confused Teenager to stop being confused about 4th degree functions and start being confused about other important things such as why her cookies are disappearing at such an alarming rate.

But do not fear, adoring fans of whom I have none, I am not forgetting about you guys! You people are my sunshine, my life, my soul… Oh dear I went rather too far with that didn’t I? Isn’t “moist” a weird word?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

The Best of Friends

Image

They’re an odd couple, almost human-like, always a step away from killing each other all while harboring deep love and respect. To all the people going “ewww, is she talking about animal husbandry or some such pineapples?”, no, no I am not. I’m talking about a friendship so strong that nothing could break it.  Not even an butcher’s knife, pr even an ax. Well, maybe an ax could… Why am I talking about axes? I flummox myself sometimes. All the time.

I got my cat for my 6th birthday and named her Lucy because at the time I was obsessed with the Narnia books, so please don’t judge me. A tiny little kitten, she hid under the bathtub for 3 days. The innocent little girl that I was was heartbroken that she wouldn’t let me touch her (again, that sounds wrong), so I slipped her bowl of food to her hiding place each day, wishing she’d come out. Of course she eventually did and I was able to pet her, all while keeping my guard up for fear that she would gobble me up like a dinosaur. At the tender age of 6, I didn’t know much about cats, and I wouldn’t hold her until I was 8. Soon enough she discovered that 1) the outside world was really quite exciting and 2) she could eat A LOT of mice, throw them up in the house and still get fed. Heaven right? She’s my best animal friend, nuzzling up to me when she senses I’m feeling down, looking at me like a disapproving grandma when I do something wrong. She’s incredibly (and weirdly) social, so we basically had a dog already. Her peace lasted 3 years.

At that point, he arrived.

Cooperstown Hope, named thus because we hoped he would be a great baseball player/dog. Since it’s a fancy and stuck up name we call him Cooper for short. Or Bum. Whichever. Cooper was a tiny little golden ball of fluff who peed all over the house and got all of our attention: we ooh-ed and aah-ed over his cute puppy dog eyes and laughed at his clumsiness. While the cat had never liked her treats, he ate everything [yes, even whatever you’re imagining]. We loved him from the start and fawned over him like a bunch of girls drooling over a hot guy. Lucy hated him. This treatment was unfair, after all she’d has us all to herself for 3 whole years, and this “thing” came and tore that all away from her in a day. What a scam.

Cooper has always loved to play, so when he was little he would always try to get Lucy to tussle with him; but because she was the queen of the house and despised anything inferior to her (–> him) she rejected his advances scornfully. It’s only now, 6 years later, that she’s started to accept him as an equal. Unfortunately for her Cooper caught onto her scheme early on and now that she wants him, he pointedly ignores her. It’s like watching a reaaally long soap opera. Nonetheless they have their moments when they play together and look exceedingly happy. Other times, like the one in the picture, they just mutually enjoy each others company, lazing around, doing nothing in particular (hey, kind of like me! :))

Deep down they are the best of friends: if something is bothering Cooper, Lucy will go up to him and push his paw around with her nose reassuringly, and should any animal other than him come onto to his kitty, Cooper will make it very clear that she is his and only his.

I love them both with all my heart, and I hope that they always have the same hilariously weird relationship as they do today.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

The Shining Dusk

Isn’t ‘dusk’ an odd word? It makes me think of ‘duck’. First sentence and I’m already going off topic. Crud. The Sun, our lifeline, our light, our heat; in a sense, our God. For me, the best, no wait let me rephrase that, the most flagrant display of that singular power comes when it goes down and the world prepares to go to sleep.

Now I could use the dawn as an example, but I’m not going to because let’s face it, I don’t often see the Sun rise for the simple reason that I like to sleep. On the other hand, since I don’t go to bed at 6 pm (or 10, or 12, or whatever) I do see it set. During vacation I’m sluggish during the day and it’s only around 5 when I feel the bite and crispness return to the air [what a strange turn of phrase don’t you think? It makes me want to eat air. Unfortunately it doesn’t taste like much, I just tried some] that my body jumps into action and I have to accomplish everything I wanted to do during the day in a few short hours.

I then start running around like the mad procrastinator that I am, scaring the cat to death and provoking the dog into chasing after me. Oftentimes I get my family to come out and toss a football or a baseball around just before my time runs out. No don’t worry I’m not planning on dying or anything, but once we’re shrouded in gloom the bugs come out and the general mood drastically lowers. When the world around starts sparkling and the moon, as small as a sugar ball (great, now I’m hungry again) appears in the darkening sky, we know we only have a few more moments left.

So we play until the Sun disappears over the horizon, taking the light and the warmth with it. In a matter of minutes a flashlight is needed to get back to the house safely without trampling one of Daddy’s precious plants (for which we would be, quite literally, never forgiven). A chill permeates the air and Lucy, who usually hangs around while we play, being a weirdly social cat, blends into her surroundings and becomes nothing more than a speck of darkness. On second thought she may just have chameleon-like powers.

When I was little I learned that when there was a beautiful sunset with lots of mingling colors that cast a glorious light over our house; Santa’s elves were hard at work. Here in the countryside we are often awarded these brilliant light shows, so I considered myself to be a lucky little girl, and would always wish all of the elves well. HA! So naïve was I… now that I’m older and wiser, I can clearly see that the elves work insanely long hours and that Santa Claus is (most probably) breaking the law by making them work so late. Not so sweet and innocent now, eh Santa?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: please forgive me if this post doesn’t reflect my usual cheerful self today, you should know that I’m writing for the perspective of a heartbroken Mets fan who spent a good deal of her night alternating in between uncontrollable sobs and bursts of anger at the whole Matt Harvey situation. *says a whole lot of bad words*

An Ode to Mom

Dear Mom,

How do you put up with me? Now I know I can imagine your answer, it would be something like “love is blind”, which I would find both sweet and insulting at the same time.  You have a way with words that I envy terribly, and I hope someday I can be half as good a writer as you are. You can use your power to make someone happy or make them roll around on the floor sobbing. Not that, like, I would ever roll around on the floor crying my sorry eyes out. I’m more the type of person who drowns their sorrows in cookies. You know that.

You supply unconditional love and support to our family, and even when you’re mad because I’m constantly checking the score of the game instead of doing my homework I know that you’re only yelling because you want what’s best for me, and the Mets are definitely not that. Then again, you married Daddy; so you should have foreseen what you were getting yourself into. And although I yell back that the Mets are more important to me than homework, until they make the playoffs, they’re not. You’re right, you’re always right.

Every night when I’m in bed you come in and say the magic words, the words that one day I will repeat to my children, the words that are engraved in my mind and that I will never ever forget: “goodnight my sweet girl, may the gilgas dance and chomp in your dreams. I love you. See ya later alligator [I answer “in a while crocodile”],  in a while crocodile [I reiterate by saying “see ya later alligator”]. I love you”. Since we’ve been saying those words every night since I was a little girl you might think that the words are trivial and superficial to me now, but no. To me, those few sentences are the most important in the world. What’ll I do when I go off to college? Tape a note to the wall with those words? Nah, that doesn’t work. I guess I’ll just be the girl who calls her parents every day before she goes to lunch. Whaaaat, lunch? Yeah, the time difference sucks.

Yesterday was your birthday. Well, by the time this gets posted it will have been two days ago. You asked for a floor cleaning machine. A floor cleaning machine? Really? Who asks for that for their birthday? It was pointed out to me that it really is perpetrating the stereotype that all women want to do is clean (THAT’S NOT TRUE BY THE WAY). Well, amongst much laughter, we gave it to you. My dad said that it was the saddest birthday present he’d ever given. But then again, I guess that just another of your weird quirks. We’ve agreed to name the machine Mega Maid, like in Spaceballs. Yes, you have contaminated us with your weirdness.

I love that even though you work as a freelance editor for semiconductor companies you know nothing about technology. Your iPhone is a mystery to you, and you will never understand why Siri doesn’t function in a crowded, noisy place. And yes Mom, you do look like a crazy person, talking to your phone all by yourself. Since you’ve discovered emojis every text message you send is accompagnied by a thousand hearts of different colors, which is both terribly embarrassing and adorably lovable at the same time. I love that your ears have never been subjected to Justin Bieber and that you don’t know who Ryan Gosling is. I hate that you’re a Red Sox fan. Sorry.

I don’t know what I’d do without you. What if, all that time ago, you hadn’t made it past the operation table? What if we’d cried tears of sadness and despair instead of tears of joy? I can’t even bear to think about it. Today I worry about your worsening attention deficit, your memory loss, your eyesight. I worry because you’re my mom. I don’t ever want anything bad to happen to you.

I love you.

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

Summer Delights

I love summer. It’s my second favorite season, just after winter (why? because in winter it’s harder to sweat profusely when talking to someone you reeeeally like). And there are certain things that make summer freakin’ awesome in this humble teenager’s opinion. So here goes; what makes summer so special to me.

#1 : Vacation

I think most teenagers will agree with me on this one. Summer vacation is the time to kick back, catch up on some sleep, lose sleep because of Star Wars marathons, and relax. No homework or teachers that smell like coffee and cigarettes: awesomeness!  The only down side is that it’s awfully rough not seeing your friends for two months. For some it may be a hard bridge to cross in the relationship area, but because I am single (AND HAPPY) I have no sympathy for those people. Sorry.

#2 : Warmth and Sun

I live in Normandy during the summer months, and to those of you who don’t know the area, let me clear it up for you:

Guess where I live on the map?

Guess where I am on the map?

But in the summertime, we mostly/sometimes/only kind of sort of get sunny days! And warmth means showing some skin (Don’t fret Mom, I’m not a slut. Far from it. Not that I’m a prude. Oh shut up Confused Teen you’re just ridiculing yourself) and getting a tan. Of course I have to put obscene amounts of sun screen on because I burn to a brighter red than Rudolph the Reindeer’s nose. And you know, the tan disappears as soon as autumn arrives, but in the moment that you’re lying outside, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth, it’s all worth it.

#3 : Drinks

Once again Mom, don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not talking about alcohol here. There’s something about summer beverages that make them different from any other old drinks. Iced tea, lemonade and smoothies during the day make my taste buds go YAAAAAY (that’s figurative –> I’d freak out if my taste buds could talk.) and after dinner a sprig of mint from the garden and dollop of honey made from our bees dunked in some boiling water make an intoxicating (in a good way, again Mom, no alcohol) cup of mint tea.

#4 : Ice Cream

Actually forget it, I eat ice cream no matter what time of the year it is.

#5 : Nostril Flaring

Because of the smells. The freshly cut grass being turned into half a tonne hay bales that I have tried rather unsuccessfully to roll around, the scented candles that we put out to ward the bugs away, the salt when we come back from the beach, barbecuing steaks and then roasting marshmallows… Isn’t that an odd word, barbecuing? If you say barbecue in French it means bearded butt. Just thought that I should put that out there.

#6: Baseball Every Single Day

Awesome right? Of course being in France I don’t have the opportunity to watch many of the games, much less go to them, but I love waking up each morning wondering if the Mets won or lost the night before (our record speaks for itself) and eagerly checking the score.  And every afternoon we all grab our gloves and go play catch out on a part of the lawn that is called “the football field” and where no trees will ever be planted, for fear of assaulting them with a baseball bat. Not that that should happen. Intentionally.

#7 : Starry Nights

I have a strange fascination with the stars up above. Being claustrophobic means that I can’t be an astronaut, but I’d sure like to go up there some day. When the night is clear, I wrap myself in a blanket and tiptoe out to the hammock, where I can lie for hours, staring up at the sparkling arm of the Milky Way sweeping across the sky. I find the different constellations, the planets and spy the satellites and shooting stars. I can only describe it as magical.

#8 : Enjoying Yourself by Doing Nothing

Ah, to wake up in the late morning/early afternoon… and knowing that apart from a few necessary chores, you have nothing planned out for the day. Summer is my time for reading sappy romance novels and wishing that I wasn’t alone. It’s my time to watch videos of hot guys made by awesome friends. And it’s also my time to discover new tv series, such as Awkward. Awkward was recommended to me by the only two friends who I told about my blog, and I’ve become addicted. In a week I’ve watched all the episodes. Should I have taken my time? Yes. Do I regret that I’m done? Yes. If I went back, would I do again? Without a doubt.

#9 : My Birthday 🙂

People of the Internet, I shall turn 16 on September 5th. And yes, that’s still summer.

So good citizens of the planet known as Apricot Land, that’s about it. What about you guys? What do you love about summer?

Live long and prosper \V/

Yours sincerely,

The Mostly Confused Teenager.

PS: my mom does not know that I have a blog.