So today at the Lion Invitationals, I didn’t do well. I didn’t make 4′2″. I watched Dorrie make 4′2″ and possibly 4′4″ — this I am guessing, because I left to do triple jump. I tripled jumped not all too well. I can optimistically say that I made the pit two out of three times and did not foul, but my jumps were mediocre: 26′3.5″, foul, 25′6.5″. Um yeah. So I yelled and cheered and stuff for all the events. (Practically.) I hung around with Cathay (Monster) for like basically the rest of the meet.
I bought a t-shirt! I got the last gray mesh lion invitational medium t-shirt. I rock. Yay. It was 12 freaking dollars. $12. Whatever.
Okay so like I ate a lot. Like a lot. But that’s not the point. After the meet was over, I went immediately to tennis at 4 o’clock. My coach was like dude wtf you lied because I thought you weren’t coming and I was like “I didn’t lie, I overestimated.” And Brian was like haha you’re dumb go play.
So I played AMAZING the first hour during clinic (which is dead ball feeding, doing drills, whatever). The second hour was matches. The first half of the second hour was doubles, and I did great. Yay. My partner was this girl named Jessica, who’s crazy good but not so good at doubles. We’re a good team, though, because I ran super crazy well since I didn’t run at all during the track meet (having only done two jumping events and that’s IT).
The last half hour of the two hour junior program, I played this pro (coach) guy named Terry. He is Asian. He graduated from Holmdel. He is the biggest jackass I know. He is really gay all the time and he probably doesn’t like me, either. He’s also not very good at tennis. So obviously I was like, “grrrr not good at tennis Lisa can beat” but then I didn’t. In fact,
I sucked.
I lost the first three games like mad because I was yelling and stomping all over the court, and I completely lost my rhythm because his shots were so slow; I stopped moving into the court and I just stayed at the baseline and watched as I repeatedly missed the same slice shots.
WHY WAS HE FREAKING HITTING SLICE SHOTS?!
So my string broke. I ran to get that handy-dandy extra racket that I always keep in my bag. I glanced up towards the balcony where the parents watch, and I was expecting to see my mom glaring down at me because I was playing so badly.
She was.
I jogged back to my court and I won the next two games. Then I lost four games in a row because I was like, ladeeda I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I lost all feeling in my legs for like five minutes because I was completely retarded.
The half hour of death was over. I went upstairs to exit the racket club. I saw my mom, laughing and smiling, and she told me (smiling) that she had half a mind to leave me to walk home. From Red Bank.
We were on the car, and she literally stopped in the middle of the road and was like, “Get off the car and walk home from here. Or do you want to walk home on the parkway? I’ll have you get run over instead; how about that?” Of course, I didn’t get off the car, and I kept my cool. It’s not healthy to lose control over one’s emotions when one’s parents are lecturing.
We got on the parkway, and she muttered, “How about both of us get into a car crash? Would that make you feel better? Why did you play like crap? Don’t you want to be first singles? Look at Jen Lee, she’s so consistent; don’t you feel urgent? Why don’t you work harder? You worked harder in school and look at your report card; your results are great! Why can’t you do the same thing in tennis? Is it that hard to step in and hit the ball? Do you really want Jen Lee to beat you?”
At this point my mind was blank. I mean, what was I supposed to say? I just nodded as she gave me advice on how to play tennis, and her words didn’t register in my brain. Maybe that’s why I’m so bad; I never listen to post-lectures.
My mom told me that she had concluded that the reason I played so badly and couldn’t balance myself after sprinting to the ball was because I was too heavy. I wasn’t able to control my footing and I was taking up too much energy just getting to the ball because I had so much body mass to move.
She drove me to the high school track and told me to run eight laps. So I was like okay whatever. She wanted me to do high knees and butt kickers and stuff to make my legs skinnier. I did that for like, one 100 for the first four laps and I got tired (because my endurance sucks and I didn’t feel like jogging anymore) so I started walking. I decided that that wasn’t a good idea, so I alternated between striding and jogging and walking for a remaining 5 laps, and I ended up doing 9 instead of 8. I felt that a good thing, because I am a very lazy person.
I got back onto the car — oh, by the way, I saw JonTsang at the track and he was running, too — and my mom seemed to have calmed down considerably. She and my dad had come to the conclusion that I wouldn’t eat dinner today and that I had an obsession with eating anything made from flour. As in carbohydrates. And I do.
So I was like, okay. Then she went back to the topic of my tennis. At this point I exploded. I’m the kind of person who, when she gets mad, blames everything on herself. I said, “I suck at tennis. I’m a freaking hypocrite. [When she commented on how, when Rose was heavy, I thought that it couldn't be such a hard thing to lose weight] I complain about what other people do and then I do the exact same thing. It’s the same thing in school. [At this, I thought that what I was doing right now in school was exactly the same thing that Salina does] I…can’t motivate myself. I have no clue how.”
What really bugs me about this is how every fucking thing I do has to be related to my weight. I wish I could just lose twenty pounds and then this constant nagging about my weight would disappear. I think I’m taking this so hard on myself is because when Rose was around, she would be the one to get yelled at, because my mom favors me the most among the Yan sisters and so I wouldn’t be chastised for, well, basically anything. So now I’m hit hard with the harsh criticism and the constant yelling (that, ironically enough, occurs every Saturday right around 6 o’clock, right after my junior program). It might also be because my personality is one of being nonchalant while the event is taking place, nonchalant during my mom’s lectures, and then explosion afterwards because I have delayed reactions like that and I find it unnecessary to argue with angry people.
Um yeah. I’m really heavy. I am freaking 145 pounds as of right now.
WHY THE FUCK AM I SO HEAVY?!
WHY THE HELL CAN’T I STOP EATING JUST FOR LIKE THREE DAYS?! If I did that, my problems would be solved and I would be down to 120 and I’d feel great.
But no. I can’t do that. I have to be more than a normal human and I have to eat more than what I require each day and I have to gain weight and I have to be a girl and I have to be a high jumper and a triple jumper and a tennis played and I have to be the best in everything and I have to beat Jen Lee and I have to win against people that I don’t like and I have to get over my slight sister complex and I have to…stop putting matters aside.
I have to stop doing what I’m doing right now. I have to stop facebook. I have to stop forums. I have to stop xanga. I have to stop all that makes me ADD and I have to play more, more, more, more, more tennis. I have to lose 20lbs. And after I have done all that I have to, I’ll make my mom happy, because I love my mom and I want her to be happy, that way I can be happy. I really do.
It’s just that…my personality is one that likes to walk away and wants to be followed. Take for example Horace today. Okay, his mile time was bad. So I slightly admonished him for not keeping up with the pack, for dropping behind, whatever whatever, while Greg was like “you did better than the other heats” or some bullshit like that. I watched him nod and stare off into space a little. He took his box o’spikes from me (that I took from him for all of half a minute while he was spacing out) and walked toward the Holmdel guys’ track area. I took this time to cheer on Lauren, who was running the girls’ mile. She did pretty well, but she dropped off a bit in the last lap.
In any case, when the race was finished, I jogged over to where Horace was, as I saw that he was leaning on the rail and staring off into space. Again. I felt a little bad, because I had chewed him out a bit with my disapproval (or, my emotions that mirrored his) and I felt that he might need a little bit of comfort. We stood there talking for a while, and when he told me that he might switch to sprinting next season, I didn’t say anything. After all, it’s his choice and whatever. You know, I’m a nice person at heart (in my opinion). I just basically stood there, leaning on the rail with him, and I tried to tell him that he didn’t do TOO badly and I tried to find a couple of excuses for his not doing too well. I don’t know if I succeeded or not, because I’m a lame excuse finder and I’m always finding excuses for myself.
So I handled Horace’s situation the same way that I would want people to handle my situations: yell at me a bit, leave me alone, then come back to me later with condolences. I like to be mature, but I also want to be babied. I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s like an oxymoron.
Uh so anyways I’m not eating dinner. My stomach hurts because I did that striding crap and everything (which I regret now), and my parents recommend that I at least eat some tomatoes or a pear or something so my stomach acids don’t kill me.
Sarah got Pokemon Diamond. I was really happy when I found this out during the meet, but during my pessimistic and bitchy yelling and screaming I realized that Sarah was probably getting it for herself. I asked her. She said it was for both her and me. I asked her what she named the character. She named it Sarah. I then asked her what the guy’s name was. She named him Alex (her best friend, our neighbor). I asked her what starter she used. She used the fire monkey or some shit.
Okay. Fat chance for sharing.
My dad told me that I could get Pokemon Diamond too, if I wanted, and I said, “What’s the use? If there’s one Pokemon Diamond in a house, why need two?” and he responded with a “You could get your own DS, too.” This is wishful thinking.
After my angry shower (in which I washed my hair with FURY), I slumped on the bed and texted Horace about my bitchfest and I fell asleep. I woke up to the sound of my mom saying, “She is not getting Pokemon Diamond. There is no point. No DS, either.”
Yeah um I’m spoiled. When I don’t get something I whine like hell. I’m lazy and spoiled and I’m a brat. I go home everyday and I read manga. I check my online blogs and whatever crap like ten bajillion times and I go to sleep at 11 every night because I have so much ADD. I need to learn how to get rid of this, but the thing is, I can’t, because I love having friends and I really can’t not live in the present.
I live in the present.
I don’t think about the future.
I regret the matter after it’s done.
I suck at life.
Like the clinic was great. WHY DID MY MATCH SUCK? AUGH. I don’t know. I’m just angry and frustrated that this happens practically EVERY SATURDAY and the solution to this so-called “problem” is that I LOSE WEIGHT. Which never happens, because three days later, my mom is like “Oh let’s eat something good because I feel guilty that you’re suffering” and I JUST GAIN ALL THE WEIGHT BACK. WHY DO I HAVE SUCH A LOVING AND CARING MOM WHO CARES FOR MY WELL-BEING? HM?
Ummm yeah. No joke, though. I really need to lose weight. I mean, sure, I look fine, but I am really seriously too heavy and I need to cut down if I want to be good at tennis and if I want to be pretty and if I want to be good at running and high jumping and triple jumping and if I want to become first singles and if I want to beat Jen Lee etcetera etcetera etcetera.
I don’t understand. Where does all this competition come from? I mean, sure, I hate losing, but why do I always have to be compared to someone else? Why can’t I just work at my own pace? I hate life. I hate life, because I understand that people are always comparing and comparing and comparing and that’s why SCHOOL was invented and that’s why GOVERNMENT was invented and that’s why CEOs were invented and that’s why JOBS were invented and that’s why the HUMAN SOCIETY AS IT IS was invented.
I hate comparisons. Why can’t something just be looked at as it is? BECAUSE IT IS IT. EXACTLY IT. I hate all this pressure that’s always on me. I hate knowing how there’s always someone better than me, always, and I hate knowing how if and when I’m the best, there’s going to be people to challenge me. I hate knowing how the more I practice a petty exercise in high jump, the worse I become at the actual jumping and the actual meets. I hate watching how Dorrie jumps higher and higher each time when I’m actually supposed to be GOOD at high jumping and I suck. That’s life. I hate it.
I know hate is a strong word blablablah. Okay, fine; I strongly strongly STRONGLY dislike how lately I’ve been really bitchy about everything. I mean, seriously. I’ve been finding faults in what everyone does except what Greg and Horace do. I’ve been getting annoyed at certain people in McDonald who, when they are at the front of the class to present something (say, a poster) to the class, they look at the poster half of the time and when they lift up their heads, they look straight at McDonald who’s sitting in a corner to avoid this happening. That just really pisses me off. I mean, there are other people in the world besides you and the teacher. It’s not just your grade; it’s for the benefit of other people. Or are you guys just too selfish to figure that out? Is your habit of getting good grades and getting good grades only so strong that you can’t tear your sight away from the teacher when you’re doing a CLASSROOM presentation?
I also don’t like it when there are people in volleyball who are pretty good at the sport but when the ball comes right at them in a perfect arc, they side-step the ball and watch it fall to the ground. Don’t you want to have fun in gym? I asked one of these people in person after the matter, and she replied that she “didn’t want to”.
Bull shit. At least try for other people. I’m talking about Erin. She’s nice. She’s just really selfish. She’s been stealing Bri away from me and all they talk about is baseball managing. I don’t fucking care. Talk about something I can talk about as well.
See I say all this crap about “try for other people, guys! It’s not just you in the world! But when they exclude me, I get mad and angry.
Umm I can’t really find a conclusion for this rant. I’m going to go eat a tomato or something. See you guys around when I lose weight.
I’m really not hungry anymore.
–Lisa
