Twenty-two girls stand on the court. We stand alike in our navy-blue and white jerseys, knee-high socks, and hair pulled back taut. We stand apart in our height, hair color, and personalities. The harsh flourescent lighting shines down and casts light on our zits, our bras, our scrapes and bruises, and our pride.
Some of us are here because of love for the game. For some, it's for the popularity and celebrity that goes with it. Others just bored. They want something to do.
We're all bored, at the moment. We scratch our thighs, roll our shoulders, and primp our hair. We want something to do, something to play. Hit one to us.
They say we're a team, but we're not. There's a heiarchy of two teams, and a hieiarchy inside these. I'm first class nobility, due to my height and arm. Not the queen, no, but I'll be darned if there isn't some royal blood in me. It doesn't matter. We're a team.
And there's really no other way to put it without making this all into a glorified Gatorade commercial. We have trained for this, we have practiced for this, and now we are here.
We are twenty two girls standing on a court.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 6:30 PM
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
"My senses have been tingled".
Fresh squeezed by melly at 3:30 PM
Tuesday, February 04, 2003
Because I absolutely cannot bring myself to watch soaps on TV, I decided last night to settle for Dr. Phil instead.
Except that I woke up at 10, and Dr. Phil starts at 9, so I had to watch Caroline Rhea.
But Caroline Rhea is so incredibly ditzy that I had to ditch that too, so Price is Right was in order.
But damn, Bob Barker is so darn OLD. Plus I really don't care if the Army officer wins the new sofa set.
Daytime television is very overrated.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 4:48 PM
Monday, February 03, 2003
The doctor said:
I translate this as:
You have strep throat, but I won't give you medicine because I'm a mean and senile old man. Go home, eat some soup, watch some soaps/wash with soap (couldn't quite make that one out) and no school.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 1:23 PM
I woke up this morning to the sound of my alarm clock, bleeping at me as always. I immediatly started coughing up my lungs, my eyes tearing, my head swimming, my body shaking, my ears throbbing.
So I went back to bed.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 9:36 AM
Sunday, February 02, 2003
I woke up this morning with a scratch in my throat that I couldn't itch. Cream of Wheat was in order. I made a mess in the kitchen, spilling milk on the stove burner and then burning the paper towel as I tried to clean it up.
I opened the morning newspaper. Advertisements fell out trying to sell me "Sweet Home Alabama" on DVD for the low, low price of $14.99. Noooo thank you, but have a nice day! The name "Reese Witherspoon" makes me think of peanut-butter and chocolate candy in an orange wrapper, not a blonde Meg Ryan ripoff. I wonder if anyone has told Reese Witherspoon this. It would really be a blow to my self-esteem if someone told me my name was stupid and I was a clone of a ditzy actress. I'd think twice about my stance on the human-cloning debate.
I went to see "The Recruit" last night with some friends. I laughed at the parts that weren't supposed to be funny, but honestly- What the heck were the producers thinking when they added a car chase between a VW Bug and a Ford pickup?
If everything is a test, what are the results used for? When will the tests stop, and we can live for what we've been preparing for? Why do we need to be tested in the first place?
On second thought, perhaps a mind-numbing film like "Sweet Home Alabama" would be good for a day like today.
Fresh squeezed by melly at 11:00 AM