Out loud

This is my final blog, and therefore I determined myself to write about something I truly care and that would reflect myself in the most deepest way. 

In March, as all of you know already, our school participated in a soccer tournament made for american schools in Central America. The tournament is known as AASCA. This year, the competition was held in Salvador. 

We went as the worst team possible, in which nothing, no matter how hard we tried was accomplished. Players, especially those, on which the team depended on were not playing well, not scoring, not passing, and just screwing everything up. We did not win one game! And from bad we went worse. The coach, Artavia, who is not exactly the quietest coach in the world, was desperate. And so was the team. Not only that, but the team itself fell apart! Drama started playing a huge role. I have always thought that one, above everything, are teammates. That is the beauty of a team. A victory is shared with at least ten more players. But then a failure is also shared. And that really sucks. Well, before I get totally lost from topic, here’s what I am trying to say. We got to AASCA in a bad (REALLY BAD) situation. Teams and players in soccer or actually in any other sport, have ups and downs… Sometimes, for a personal downfall or just for no particular reason. Of course, if you start analyzing and blah blah you will find the true reason behind it, for example, bad eating, or bad rest, or bad attitude, blah, blah… There are many reasons…Okay. I got off topic again. I actually started writing this blog because I was watching the Eurocup championship final from 2004, in which Greece beat Portugal 1-0. We lost the final against AIS 1-0 too (maybe it’s G-d telling us we are like the Portugal National Team?… Just kidding…)

Seriously, there is nothing worse than that. It is like having what you desire the most which is winning and then feeling how it is stolen away from you. Like having the best possible thing in the world, and then get nothing. From hero to zero!

Then, after crying, yelling, blaming, and frustration, we come to the realization that this tournament was the best it could have ever been. We learned a lot, especially gained good experience, and found ourselves  accomplishing our goal, which in the first place, was just to get to the finals. Yes, we lost a final, and there is nothing worse than that. All right, there is worse than that obviously. But lets face it, it sounds good and dramatic. 

I wrote about a final, because that final meant a lot to me. I gave myself completely to the team and I played with injuries, because I wanted to win. I really gave everything inside me and I played good, but sometimes for some reason, it is not our turn to hold the cup. But I will stay here, fighting until it is my turn to raise the cup and change the phrase around to make it “from zero to hero”. 

Going to the stadium has always been an experience I enjoy very much. I went yesterday.       My dad doesn’t like going, I mean he doesn’t care if he goes or not, but if it weren’t for me or my brother, he wouldn’t go at all. Therefore, being a Sunday and everything, I thought he would rather stay home and rest. Plus, my driver, who is usually me and my brother’s second choice, doesn’t work on Sundays. I pretty much thought I’d be watching the game at home, alone, bored, at home… Saprissa was playing against Alajuela, the classic game in Costa Rica. They were playing in Saprissa’s stadium. The purples had that advantage… Anyways, this is how the story goes. On Saturday, after a party, a friend of mine, slept at my house. On Sunday she had to go home for a lunch she had. Before that, a friend of ours, asked us if we were going to see the game. We said we didn’t know, but we might. We didn’t discuss it afterwards. When my friend left for the lunch, I thought I might ask her if we were going or what, but decided that I shouldn’t bother my parents and just watch the game at home. It didn’t turn out that way. Hours later, my friend called me. She asked me if we were going. I turned my head backwards to see what my mom and dad were doing or were planning to do. They were both asleep. I hadn’t had lunch. And the stadium really looked like a million year lights away. I told my friend the situation. Well, my friend has a friend who said he could give us a ride. He is older than us, and I don’t know him well. I called some other people I know that were going and might give us a ride. No, no, no, they all said. Max, our old friend, was our last option. My parents eventually woke up and we had lunch. They gave me permission and soon, my friend was back at my house. They would pick us up there. Before I knew, I was buying “pastelitos” and freezing my feet off with disgusting water that ran throughout the stadium’s floor. It was really empty to be a final. I thought that nobody would want to get wet. I understood why they wouldn’t. I bought one pastelito and two iced teas. We climbed the stairs and sat at our seats. The game soon started. Saprissa pretty much attacked most of the game, but in my opinion it was pretty disappointing. Both teams played bad. Passes were made wrong, goals weren’t scored, intelligent tactics weren’t seen… Even though, I really, really wanted Saprissa to win, in order to relieve all the stress I was holding. “Goooooooooooaaaaaall!” I painted a smile on my face and with all my strength felt the victory. That’s all about. And there is all there is to say. They had scored. 

The eight grade’s field trip this year was a total success! It all started when we were given all the information, prices, and safety requirements. We paid, turned in our slips, and little by little were getting closer to the funniest field trip in the entire middle school! The day before our departure, we had an assembly (only eighth graders) where Barbie explained to us important aspects about the trip. She told us what we could take, do, not do… Safety, we were told, was the most important thing about the trip. Since they were doing so much emphasis on safety, I figured this trip would be somehow dangerous. My prediction was about to be proven right. Finally, finally, it was the day we were leaving. We had to be at school really early. When we got here everyone was very sleepy and even though the usual students were making noise, some of us were able to sleep leaning on our friend’s shoulder. The bus ride, in my opinion was a bit long, but we still were having fun. The bus I was in had some technical problems, so we got moved. Actually, we, the students, didn’t even realize what the problem was. We did as we were told. And we were told to go to the other bus. Then, after a couple of hours since we had left CDS we arrived at Turubari Park. There, we had breakfast, and then split up into two groups. The Superman Zipline riders climbed the very tall stairs. Once up, we had to wait for about forty minutes. I had called first, but the usual students had already made a separate line. I wasn’t going to fight, though. I ended up going third, which really was pretty exciting. Honestly, I wasn’t scared. I don’t know why. For me, it was more like sight-seeing than excitement. But.. WOW! It was great. When you were lying down on your tummy watching the whole forest from a view you are not familiar with, it feels awesome. I thought about telling my family that they HAVE to do this someday (with me of course). I screamed not because of fear, but because of the sense you get of freedom. Then, we had lunch (still at the park). After some more hours on the bus, we got to the hotel, where even more fun was about to start! To make the story shorter; we ate, went to the beach, bathed in the pool, had a fashion contest, lots of free time, shopping at the beach, soccer at the beach! and community service (which I thought was great). Manuel Antonio was a great experience. I strengthen my relationships with my friends and teachers. It was awesome! 

Ms. Obanon, as well as all the eigth graders haven been tallying up the days that remain for the moving up ceremony. And then we go to high school. We get transcripts. We get to be the big guys. Wow. It seems like yesterday that I entered CDS in fifth grade. It seems like yesterday that I was in Ms. Montero’s Spanish class. Then we went to sixth grade: MEP. It seems like yesterday that I went to my tutor for MEP. Seventh grade: geography fair. It is also like an hour ago that I was rushing from my soccer practice to the fair. It seems like an hour ago that while I ran I practiced over and over again in my head the ten-minute-super-difficult presentation. And then, suddenly, we became the middle school seniors! I had the opportunity to be head of the student council. Leading the student government, we negotiated new desks, and got them. But now, in the blink of a second, we are finally getting a glance at high school. It is a new world, full of new people, new subjects, new tests, new grades, new reputations, new ideas… We are crossing to the other side! High school seemed like a million years ago. Then, it became less than years: months; weeks; days… We are about twenty days away from the moving up ceremony (according to Ms. Obannon’s board). And that is when you start to think… High school is not a game. Life starts to get more serious. High school pretty much determines your college. Your college determines your job. And therefore, your whole life is laid out in front of you.. Grades are just not numbers printed on a paper. They become new opportunities. They greater they are, the more opportunities you will get. Your life starts to get more meaning. Your actions start to have a reason behind: community service, student council, environment, sports… They start to sculpture your future, your life, yourself. Life starts to get more serious. 

It has been a while since I don’t talk about soccer. I actually miss it.Recently, in fact las week, I went to San Francisco to try out for a “futbol sala” team. Futbol Sala is a variation of 11 players-soccer. Five players play for each team, in a much smaller court. A teammate from Arenal gave me the coach’s telephone number. She had played with that team before. When she played they went to “Juegos Nacionales” a huge sport tournament all around Costa Rica. She quit the team, because they practiced too far away from where she lived. I had been thinking a lot about joining another team, especially since we only practice (with Arenal) on Wednesdays. Even though I train other days, I wanted to play more so that it would help me improve. My mom called Alonso, the coach. She explained my situation (I played with Arenal, and I wanted to get better). He told her that I should go on Tuesday to try it out. I did. And I loved it! When the girls started to show up (I showed up earlier) I saw that they were bigger than me. The first one to come, was fat and huge. I felt anxious. But then, the coach called us and he introduced me to the team. They were all very nice. The practice started. First, we ran, to warm up, for about fifteen minutes. Then, we did some technical plays and exercises. The last hour we played five against five. Before playing, the coach, who seemed happy with my skills, taught me the moves and the game itself. I actually started typing a summary of what he explained, so you can understand better… but I decided not to. It is complex and difficult to tell. It would be a lot easier if I could show it to you.  The team is the Primera Division San Jose team. San Jose and San Francisco is now the same “futbol-sala” team. When the tournament Juegos Nacionales starts, the younger players (under 18 years old) split up and play for the tournament, not anymore for the Primera Division tournament. The coach signed me in for the Primera Division tournament and for Juegos too.I feel very happy that I belong to that team now. I think it will help me with regular soccer a lot. I hope I do well.    

ife is full of purposes, of goals, of wishes, of dreams. But we all want one single thing. Happiness. At least, that is what I believe. Happiness is the whole idea and philosophy of life. We base our actions, thoughts and decisions to achieve what we want. Now, the question is, are we actually doing that? Are we accomplishing daily what we want the most, that will bring us happiness?… Some people think they don’t know what makes them happy. That is just lame. We all do. We might not live in our perfect definition of happiness, but we-deep inside-have imagined many, many times the clear image that we came up with of the lives we wish we had. In another case, we have fought so hard, or maybe we were satisfied with what we had, that happiness was right in front of us. We were living in it. As for the ones that don’t have the slightest idea of what happiness is for them, there are different reasons of why it is like that. My first explanation is the following: We are scared of that thing that makes us happy, so we ignore it until eventually it stops existing. We might be afraid because it is controversial to society, to culture, or to our family beliefs. We might also be afraid because we are scared of doing that; of talking to the boy/girl we want, of studying what we ambition the most, of working at the most important company of the country. We are all so scared. And really, scared of what? Well, we are scared that the boy/girl might not like us back, even when that is ONLY an option; we are afraid that we will not find a job after we study the one career we want; we fear that there are better workers than us, and they will not hire us. We are made up of fear. Success, therefore, based on the definition that success is the accomplishment of our goals, or what we want, is being able to get rid of that fear that unable us to do what we want, and be successful. When you succeed, you achieve that happiness that we have for so long wished for. Life and happiness, I have always believed, are not a destination, but a journey. 

Most likely it would be a wiser decision to take this time and dedicate to polynomials and Spanish sentences. Oh well… Somehow, it seems more important to get out all those thoughts dancing in my head and transform them into words. I really need to say this. It is not like an outburst, but more of a get-it-all-out-talk. The kind of talks you would have with a close friend. But you know what, part of the beauty of blogging is that you know that the person sitting in front of THIS computer is actually interested in what you wrote. They want to know what you feel, what you think… –Thank you for listening. So, here it goes the post that will probably cost me a low grade and a negative slope in my edline. A few moments ago, my brother, whom I have close relationship with, was able to cut my skin open, push himself forward, slash all my organs, and finally, finally, reach my heart. How can he know me so well? All of you who are reading these, most likely completely ignore this whole other part of me. Maybe it is because you haven’t known me that long. Or just because I didn’t want you to know me that deeply-well… My grandmother died on May 1st five years ago. I am completely and absolutely devastated. You should probably understand that my grandmother was not my grandmother only; she was my best, best, best friend, my support, my—my everything. And she went away. Forever. I stayed here, unable to figure out what the heck I was going to do with my life. Without her. She was gone…forever. So, (I think) as a way to survive and prevent a serious depression, I blocked myself to reality. I chose to stop feeling. It worked. I miss her. But I don’t feel. It has been five years now, and I have not still sorrowed. The amount of LOVE I felt for her would have made anybody (emotionally normal) into a serious, serious, serious depression. Then, one day, they would wake up and feel how everything is good again; that they will be fine… They accepted the reality that their loved one is gone. I will never do that. I just can’t. How could I open my feelings wide opened and let myself drown in all those decaying feelings that are still waiting to be “feeled”? My mother just does not understand me. “Cry! Marian, cry! She was the person you most loved and what did you do!? Cry for two weeks and then CLOSE up!?” My mom would say something like that, if not, precisely that. I know she is right. I know doing that feeling will probably improve my life 1,234,890 times. But, hey, it is not that I hate myself, and don’t want to be better, it is just that I can’t. I can’t. Have I tried, though? Hmm.. Then… do I want to feel? Do I want to feel the horrible reality I was left with when she died? No, I don’t. As a result to that screwed up psychological disorder, my life is pretty unreal. It took me about ten years to realize that I wanted to play soccer. I went through years and years of useless activities to then understand that it was okay to love something as much as that sport. It was great to feel passionate about it. Reflected also in other parts of my life, I guess I was also afraid to feel that passion for something. Remember I had decided not to feel. And when that intense feeling I got towards soccer filled me, I was afraid to feel it. It was not until all those years of “useless activity” that, with help and unconditional support from my family, I went for it. I let myself open to a—-feeling. Wow! What was that! Love, passion, ambition…? Are those feelings? They were… Now, five years after that closing of doors to reality, I had a conversation with my brother (13 years old), that totally gave me a topic for blogging :-p . I already knew what he had told me: that I was “cold”, and that not showing feelings towards life is just unacceptable, that I had to change, and move on. That, however, is not the point of this blog. I don’t even know the point of this particular post. I truly think it does not matter. What matters is the value of this site: the value of being able to say all these truths about me, which I could hardly talk in face-to-face life. It is about knowing that somebody will read them. That is what gives you the confidence that life is actually nice and good…..It makes you—– want to feel.

I have always wondered about the way humans behave. A specific question always comes to my mind: when humans born, are they evil? We all know that babies don’t like to share their toys, they fight over their barbies, and they don’t think care about other kids.  I come up with opposing arguments. One side says they do: the natural behavior of babies is selfish. Selfishness is bad. It is a form of evil. By being selfish, we can link their behavior to being bad. But (yes, there are many “but’s”), is the thought that babies are selfish a stereotype, or are they in the majority bad/selfish? Now, of course, the other side disagrees. This side is convinced that babies in their original behavior are good, but as they grow up, the world, which in my opinion has a considerable amount of evil and bad in its culture, influences and builds them up in a way that makes them selfish. As you might have noticed, in both sides the final result is that babies become selfish (I won’t get into the point of view that babies are not selfish). With that settled, here is the one-million-dollar question: do we become bad as we enter this bad world, or are we bad since we were born? A decisive point that we must take into consideration is the following: if we were born good and there is no bad in the world to make us evil, how come that NOW there is bad? I thought that maybe something bad happened to someone good and that experience dragged him/her to the evil side. That person then started to influence others until badness became known and spread. Even though all this thoughts sound stupid, they are a pretty possible theory, and in fact, they might be theoretically right (not practically). They are simple, but life is pretty simple (theoretically). Mothers usually have a hard time comprehending the possible idea that babies are born bad (they can become good, of course). In their miraculous life and bonds with their sons and daughters, mothers don’t get along with that idea. My mom is strongly against it. My father, in the other hand, thinks all babies are naturally selfish. He thinks as well that babies can grow up to be good, but naturally they are not. My mom thought of him as being extremely negative. Anyways, I think that question is interesting and unanswerable. I guess the million dollars won’t be given to anybody. 

            The Tournament U-17 of female soccer in Costa Rica brings together about nine teams, with players from fifteen and seventeen years old. It is a very exciting and hard competition. It starts this Saturday. Arenal Coronado, my team, will face San Jose, a very strong team, as we start the tournament.

            Going back in time a little, Lady Sport used to be my team. With Lady Sport, we won the U-15 Tournament. Arenal Coronado decided to “buy” the U-17 and U-15 categories of Lady Sport. In Lady Sport we had only one category: U-15. So, for this new division of age groups, new players had to be tried. My coach and the team manager also have another team (the one I started with), Saprissa. The real Saprissa team does not exist anymore. The one my coach still has is just a “school” (escuelita) where everyone can go. From there, most of the new players were gathered. Some were really good.            

            Now that new players entered the team there is the fear of losing your place in the starting team. In the last tournament, I was a lot more confident since we had played together more. Now, the coach is trying out players and putting everyone into a test. If you are not good enough, you get benched. I know I can do it (play good), and I obviously know I want to…that gives me a whole lot more of security. I hope that this tournament is as successful as the previous one. I want to win again, though I realize this time will be a lot more difficult. That is because in U-17 most of the players have played with “Segunda Division”, a higher soccer league. Also, our team has very young players. However I trust in our ability and technical advantage.

            For this tournament I have many goals. First of all, I want to start making a big difference in the game and make myself a very important player. Also, I want to become one of the top five players of the team. I want to develop more physical strength and get a lot of experience. My main goal is to be confident with myself and trust that I can: that I can make good passes, score goals, make good plays… I also want to feel satisfied at the end of my games, to know that I played my best. And by doing so, I played really good. 

You can have this, or have that. You can have more, or nothing at all. Where does fairness come into the game? No one chose to be born in their family. And thinking about life, and all that stuff, are’nt we, the snobs, just extremely…. lucky? Let’s see, right now I am sitting in a desk, on a chair, staring at a screen. I can hear my brother’s instant messaging sounds. A little behind, I recognize my baby brother and my mom talking and watching a kids show, in a room, with a bed, a television, and a couch. Then, thinking even more, I figure that in about half an hour I will turn off the computer, charge my cell phone, put my pajamas on, and go to bed, in my room. Then, I would lay there for maybe three minutes until I fall into a resting, real nice sleep. For a whole night. With no disturbances. May be I’ll pray before sleeping. But not today. Tonight, I sit in front of my computer, wondering, thinking, asking… I was playing with my brother (2 years old) when that strange, horrible, awkward feeling filled me. It was not the first time. It had happened before. Here is what I hate: you and I go to Costa Rica’s most expensive school, while millions of people die of hunger in the world. We go to restaurants, to the gym, to tutoring, to dancing classes, to a party, to hotels, to China, to Europe, to—whatever. While millions of people can’t afford a decent dinner! Yeah, I hate the high class. I hate to see how we can live our lives, indifferent of the world outside the castles we live in. There is another world. An ugly one! Where people have to kill themselves to survive, where children steal to eat, where you ride buses for five hours so you can go to a crappy school, where your father hits your mother and your brother is on drugs… And you still appreciate the fact that you have a family! Isn’t life so ironic? Or am I the only one that sees it? I hate the high class. I hate to see how we chat with our cell phones and talk to our friends through MSN or Facebook. I hate the fact that we eat everyday what we want, because we like what we are eating, not because it is edible. I hate the rich. I remember a while ago, when I shared this thoughts of mine with my mother. She told me, “Well, you can only say thank you to G-d and to everything.” From that day on I always appreciated what I had, I stopped (really stopped) and enjoyed and appreciated the moment, the food, the luxuries, anything. But I kept hating our high class. I’ll always do. And you know what the worst thing is? That I don’t even think the low class and the poor hate the rich as much as I, who belong to a high class, do.