We leave tomorrow for nationals. Twenty-nine more hours until the bus pulls out to take us to Raleigh. I can't concentrate on anything this week. My stomach is in knots. I feel so confident but am trying not to look past our opponents. I feel like I have this one chance this weekend to do something amazing. The Angels could have the perfect season. We could go undefeated. This one is for all the marbles.
I never thought I would feel this level of competition pressure after college. Penn State Rugby is such an alternate world, a place where you are expected to be perfect because you are year after year after year. Not that we get there lightly. I can't imagine what would happen to me now if I entered into a Penn State workout again. (Although after taking my little sister to an Angels practice and seeing her unable to move for three days afterward, perhaps I am underestimating the torture Brian puts us through) At any rate, as one of the All Blues once told me, when you come from a program with a tradition of dominance, you step on the field with an automatic ten mental points against the other team (unless, of course, that team is Stanford or Air Force).
The Angels don't yet have that tradition. We are building it on our own. It's been so amazing for me to be on this journey with this team. When we beat Detroit I knew we would go to Nationals. I knew it. I just can't express how enormously important it is for people, especially women, to have opportunities such as this throughout life. If I can prepare for a national championship competition, what can't I do?
Until Sunday at 2:30 PM, my mind will be unable to focus on anything except visualizing good tackles and throwing the ball in straight. This is it! I can't believe how much I'm vibrating with anticipation! Agh! We're gonna win!
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Wooohoooo Democracy!
I just voted for the first time in an actual voting center. All the other times up till now have been absentee ballots because I either was actually at college (or living in England) or camped out in NJ where my democratic vote didn't matter as much as it did in PA.
I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I got there because I normally ignore all the flyers I get in the mail explaining the voting procedure. I felt prepared for the men in suits sucking down cigarettes outside yelling in chorus for me to vote straight democrat and straight republican. I was ready for the metal detectors at the door. It's an elementary school, after all. But I was shocked when ten thousand volunteers swarmed around me to help me get to the right place. Where were the lines? I brought a book along expecting the voting place to be similar to the post office at the very least.
I like to think that by arriving at 915 I just missed the crowds because everyone is at work. I want to hope so. I live in a pretty densely populated area. I know there are people here who are 18 or older. Seeing the empty gym really made me want to volunteer in some sort of get out and vote program next year. I have a few hours to help with that, even if I have to miss rugby.
I feel like I should pin my voting receipt to my jacket today like a corsage. "This person helped defeat republicans" it would tell the world. They would all be extremely jealous and rush to the gymnasium. I think I feel depressed that more people weren't in there.
I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I got there because I normally ignore all the flyers I get in the mail explaining the voting procedure. I felt prepared for the men in suits sucking down cigarettes outside yelling in chorus for me to vote straight democrat and straight republican. I was ready for the metal detectors at the door. It's an elementary school, after all. But I was shocked when ten thousand volunteers swarmed around me to help me get to the right place. Where were the lines? I brought a book along expecting the voting place to be similar to the post office at the very least.
I like to think that by arriving at 915 I just missed the crowds because everyone is at work. I want to hope so. I live in a pretty densely populated area. I know there are people here who are 18 or older. Seeing the empty gym really made me want to volunteer in some sort of get out and vote program next year. I have a few hours to help with that, even if I have to miss rugby.
I feel like I should pin my voting receipt to my jacket today like a corsage. "This person helped defeat republicans" it would tell the world. They would all be extremely jealous and rush to the gymnasium. I think I feel depressed that more people weren't in there.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
The Strange Costumes We Wear
Today I was tutoring the football guys, who are writing an essay about empowerment/disempowerment as shown in the movie HOTEL RWANDA. During silent moments, when I would sit back and let them ruminate or peck out an idea, I stared at them incredulously and thought about how very strange it was for us to be in that room, playing the roles we are.
On the streets, these guys are the definition of machismo, "cool pose." They wear unlaced Timbs with sweatpants, have upper and lower grills and their necks, fingers, and earlobes drip with diamonds and shiny chains. When they come to the writing center, they slip out their gold grills and place them over their ears, as one might tuck a mouthguard or pair of glasses for safe keeping. They literally tuck in their jewelry (most likely so it doesn't clink off the keyboards when they lean forward to type, but I still find it interesting) and sit before me tender and emotionally naked as they ask for help with their school work. I look at the molded teeth behind their ears and think how tough the world perceives them to be. I wonder which is the act: the vulnerable boys with whom I discuss racism and power trips or the explosive angry men who fit in with their fake gold teeth.
I type these thoughts from the comfort of my apartment, where I have strewn off my "teacher clothes" and slapped my hair in a ponytail. I'm wearing my very favorite blue slippers and mesh shorts with a rugby hoodie. I look so similar to my students right now I almost feel behind my ear for my false teeth.
I find it so interesting to think about the different people we become through the different facets of our lives. I wonder how they intersect. I wonder, if we all could see one another in our true comfort zones and then out of them if we would then realize people aren't all that different from one another. I wonder if the football guys would respect me more if they knew that I, too, prefer bumming around in sweats to talking about English papers on a Sunday afternoon.
On the streets, these guys are the definition of machismo, "cool pose." They wear unlaced Timbs with sweatpants, have upper and lower grills and their necks, fingers, and earlobes drip with diamonds and shiny chains. When they come to the writing center, they slip out their gold grills and place them over their ears, as one might tuck a mouthguard or pair of glasses for safe keeping. They literally tuck in their jewelry (most likely so it doesn't clink off the keyboards when they lean forward to type, but I still find it interesting) and sit before me tender and emotionally naked as they ask for help with their school work. I look at the molded teeth behind their ears and think how tough the world perceives them to be. I wonder which is the act: the vulnerable boys with whom I discuss racism and power trips or the explosive angry men who fit in with their fake gold teeth.
I type these thoughts from the comfort of my apartment, where I have strewn off my "teacher clothes" and slapped my hair in a ponytail. I'm wearing my very favorite blue slippers and mesh shorts with a rugby hoodie. I look so similar to my students right now I almost feel behind my ear for my false teeth.
I find it so interesting to think about the different people we become through the different facets of our lives. I wonder how they intersect. I wonder, if we all could see one another in our true comfort zones and then out of them if we would then realize people aren't all that different from one another. I wonder if the football guys would respect me more if they knew that I, too, prefer bumming around in sweats to talking about English papers on a Sunday afternoon.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Victory is Mine!!!
Corey left yesterday for SanFrancisco. I am missing a super fun family vacation for a Bat Mitzvah, but had to sacrifice since I went to Canada for so long. I feel ok about it because I THREW HIS DUMPSTER SHOES IN THE TRASH!!!! As soon as I got up yesterday, I took the white shoes and just hurled them in the garbage. It felt so amazing. I have secured victory over the dumpster by returning to it what was lost.
I even planned the whole thing out with his mom so she will take him to the Nike store this morning and buy him shoes from a store. New shoes, that haven't been rejected by Goodwill or worn by an old man to go jogging. I can barely contain my joy that Corey's feet will not only not smell like swamp anymore but will also look good and be less likely to grow fungus.
I even planned the whole thing out with his mom so she will take him to the Nike store this morning and buy him shoes from a store. New shoes, that haven't been rejected by Goodwill or worn by an old man to go jogging. I can barely contain my joy that Corey's feet will not only not smell like swamp anymore but will also look good and be less likely to grow fungus.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Bringing the Classroom to my Blog
We're reading about Female Masculinity in my women's studies class. I really applaud much of the readings we are doing because they give voice and power to many women who do not fit traditional female roles and gender stereotypes. My big problem comes in when the scholars we read all seem to code certain behaviors as "masculine" or "feminine" and do not extract them from male or female. My books all seem to say that the characteristics I and my teammates express are masculine, manly. I hate that.
Why can't strength and confidence, drive, competitiveness, strategy, toughness be HUMAN traits? Why must they be mascunline, to imply that a woman who exhibits them is less of a real woman and more of a masculine one? It makes me upset. Shari Dworkin succinctly sums up my thoughts when she says the following on page 72 of BUILT TO WIN. (The chapter is called "A New Look at Female Athletes and Masculinity"):
"Not real. Not a real woman. Real women aren't that strong. Don't train that hard. Don't study that hard. Don't know strategy or competition so well. Are more obsequious, don't have so much to say, don't climb for or hunger for the top so profoundly. Real women don't sound so confident in job interviews or at conferences. Real women wear tutus and dance. Play with Barbie. Don't threaten anyone. If that's the definition of 'women,' then we are both real men, I suppose."
Why can't strength and confidence, drive, competitiveness, strategy, toughness be HUMAN traits? Why must they be mascunline, to imply that a woman who exhibits them is less of a real woman and more of a masculine one? It makes me upset. Shari Dworkin succinctly sums up my thoughts when she says the following on page 72 of BUILT TO WIN. (The chapter is called "A New Look at Female Athletes and Masculinity"):
"Not real. Not a real woman. Real women aren't that strong. Don't train that hard. Don't study that hard. Don't know strategy or competition so well. Are more obsequious, don't have so much to say, don't climb for or hunger for the top so profoundly. Real women don't sound so confident in job interviews or at conferences. Real women wear tutus and dance. Play with Barbie. Don't threaten anyone. If that's the definition of 'women,' then we are both real men, I suppose."
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