thatnight.net

“yesterday i woke up early and babysat, drove to the mall, grabbed some jones soda, and then babysat again till 11. i definatly need to find a job. stupid college students took them all. hey that’ll be me next year! yay! i decided im staying close to home, and i would like to get an apartment, rather than dorm. but we’ll see.”

I wrote that on one of my older websites on June 14th, 2003. I would happily link it, but isn’t it the general routine for my generation to block out and delete proof of our early internet presence? Because we’re so much more intelligent now, and when I turn 27, I’ll be all, what? 22? What did I do then, go to college? How juvenile.

At the time, I would have just turned 17. And besides that one brilliant remark (”i decided im staying close to home,” which I should have done, but didn’t, though really, who “decides” things when they’re 17?) there’s not much I would ever worry about salvaging. I was living so fast and hard that I didn’t have time to capitalize my i’s.

Anyway, I’m in the middle of writing something sort of extensive, a large portion of which took place in 2003. I found that the best way for me to remember the little things I may have forgotten about — car rides, dances, lacrosse games — is to download the Top 50 Billboard chart (full list available in iTunes) for that year and cycle the playlist.

So I’m sitting here in my rat-free hotel room (who knew they’d have one in Philadelphia?), elated with landing this job, burnt from a sweltering, sunny day on the field, playing 50 Cent and The Ataris and Fabolous and Blink-182. As always, the songs easily send me back to the time I wrote things like “i was wearing my ‘lost’ shirt and thinking of how lost i am right now” and “i just watched all the surfer girls episodes” and “SATs suck,” and I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of a difference of five years.

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I’ve been across the country but I’ve never been across the state, and as I write this, I’m on my way to Philadelphia for work-related things, and I’m pretty excited about it despite all of its inferiorities.

I’m just kidding, Philly. I can’t say anything bad about the birthplace of Will Smith and…cream cheese.

I left the puppy with Derrick, which wasn’t difficult at the time, but now that I’m sitting here thinking about it, it’s kind of getting to me. He knows I’m coming back, right? Will he forget about me tomorrow and move on? Little punk is probably chilling out by the pool already, unaware of my absence, all I don’t remember there being a girl in my life. Was she hot?

I swear, I could live in the most glorious, well-kept house and I would still find excitement in leaving. What makes hotel rooms so fantastic?

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I swear, for the past week, I’ve awakened every morning to beautiful, sun-filled blue skies. I’ve stretched and smiled and said, “so pretty!” And it never fails, by the time I get myself together and set foot outside, the sky is overcast and it’s at least 25 degrees colder than I feel it ought to be.

I went to watch the first lacrosse game of the season yesterday, and by the time the final whistle blew, I noticed that my manic sideline pacing had not only caused mud to crawl up to my knees, by also that the denim was frozen solid from the wind, resulting in a back-to-the car wobble resembling an uncomfortable non-cowgirl in chaps.

I’ve also been doing a lot of driving to various city outskirts lately, and it never ceases to amaze me how far away you can be from downtown while still catching small glimpses of the skyline. I always get at least a little excited when I’m over 20 miles from the city and can see four spikes sticking out of the hilly horizon in front of me.

It’s kind of like that thrill you got when you were a kid and your parents were driving you down that main street in Homestead to Kennywood and in the distance you saw the hazy loops of the Steel Phantom, and that’s pretty much still the case for me now except that the Steel Phantom was turned into the Phantom’s Revenge and instead of loops there’s just that one big hill which is still daunting but slightly less threatening.

Bello has been joining me on a lot of my road trips, and has finally become brave enough to do the dog thing of sticking his head out the window as I drive. I’ve taken to pulling his hair up, as it’s growing at an alarming rate, and the weather’s still too cool for a shavin’.

What? Stop rolling your eyes. It’s blue. Jesus.

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I brought the Nikon D50 with me to St. Vincent’s College this weekend where my girls had their end-of-the-season lacrosse tournament. Last year, it was very laid back. We played maybe four games, with an hour or two between each one to rest, eat, and walk around the college, which is private and very beautiful.

I didn’t get one picture.

Turned out that my team thought it would be a better idea to be badass as hell and destroy the other teams in attendance. We had 7 games total, practically back to back, and they surprised everyone by winning it all and coming out the best team in Western Pennsylvania.

Coaches fought and opposing team members cried. We walked by tents of players and coaches, looking at us in surprise, awe, and frustration. It was fantastic. At one point, a group of players provoked a rumble, and I had to calmly remind them that they were 14 years old.

It turns out that my girls were underestimated, even by me.

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Yesterday morning, I got a call from the head coach of the team my girls would be playing later that afternoon. She notified me that several of her players had been injured, or sick, and asked if I would allow her to use a couple of her middle school boys to replace them on the field. I agreed, of course. I hate to cancel games.

If you’re familiar with the sport of lacrosse, you know that girls are traditionally required to wear skirts/kilts along with their jerseys. Every player must be dressed identically, and even in this case, no exceptions were made.

If it wasn’t for the extreme height difference, the 6th-grade boys would have been much more difficult to spot among their female counterparts. I will openly admit that during many points in that game, I giggled a lot like the middle school girls.

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Is anyone else participating in 24 hours of Flickr?

From the group:

“What happens around the world in one day? In a word – life. Here on Flickr, our members are sharing the world that they see: snapping daily moments, recording history, telling stories, capturing beauty.”

After the submission period is over, they’re compiling their favorites into a book.

Luckily, my girls had an early game on May 5th. They continued their undefeated streak, and were understandably thrilled. I decided to submit a shot from the game, since it provides the best view into my daily life. I also changed my masthead to coordinate.

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…and the sun finally came out.

The lacrosse season has begun again, my favorite time of year, and I’m hoping that my coaching ability has somewhat improved since 2006.

I was such a wreck at our first game last season. We were set to play the first-ranked team in our division, undefeated after four games. The opposing team’s coach, at least ten years older than me, stood dignified down the field, poised, casually checking her clipboard and offering advice to her players via telepathy.

She probably seemed even more majestic when compared to me, an unsteady amateur, screaming my voice hoarse, covered in mud after dropping to my knees and rolling around with anxiety, maniacally pulling out chunks of my own hair. We ended in a tie.

I actually doubt I’ll be any different this year.

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Tonight kicked off the beginning of my “spring job” (is it even winter yet?) – head coach of a girls’ lacrosse team – for the second season. We held a meeting for the parents of my upcoming players, and as usual, they came prepared with many, many questions regarding the safety of their daughters and, more importantly, the amount of money it would cost to play.

Last year’s meetings had a general attendance of about 8-10 parents, which made sense for a team of 18 girls. How many were there when I walked into the classroom tonight? At least 50. Every chair was taken. I must’ve done something right.

All sarcasm aside, I’m thrilled. But we’ll see what happens when I meet with the team. Handling 30+ junior high girls might be somewhat overwhelming compared to 18.

Day 9. Sleeping baby.

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My team’s banquet was last night, marking the last time I’ll see the girls until next winter. In summary, the night was composed of dinner, awards, and goodbyes. The events could probably be more adequately described using the presents I received.

Before I began my speech, one of the parents presented a speech about me, during which I was presented with two bouquets of the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. I was already crying by that point. With this, the parents gave me some cards and some very generous gift certificates. I’ve been told throughout the season that I was an awesome coach by my girls. It was a completely different feeling being described as a role model by their parents.

Next, I distributed my presents to the girls (little collages containing pictures from throughout the season and other little nifty scrapbook-esque trinkets). They then gave me a giant picture frame with our team photo in the middle, surrounded by messages from all of the girls. Definitely cooler than gift cards. Two of the girls also made me a collage featuring taped-on snapshots from throughout the season.

Also, I got two t-shirts with our school name and mascot. Perhaps one of the best presents of all, though, is a sweatshirt that I will cherish more than any piece of clothing that I have ever or will ever receive. It allows me to brag without saying a word.

I really hated seeing my girls cry. I really loved how the parents pressured me to come back next year.

I mentioned how at this year’s tournament, I doused the girls in silly string. They got me good at the end of the banquet. So good, that the manager almost began hyperventilating when he walked the in banquet room and saw his lights, windows, tables, and carpets completely flooded with bright green and pink sticky string. And there I was, in the middle of it all, entangled in a gooey rainbow web while the room flooded with the giggles of 15 girls and flashes from the cameras of 30 parents.

It was amazing.

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My girls had their last game of the season yesterday – a twelve-hour tournament against all of the schools in their division.

The campus that held the event was incredible. Dan and I walked through it briefly during a break between games. All colleges should have gardens. And really old buildings. Even the fields on which we played were incredible. The land stretched out and down. It was as if the fields were raised in honor of the games that were being played on it. And the entire thing was surrounded by hills and mountains.

I was so thankful that the rain had stopped that day so I wouldn’t have to endure the bus ride home soaking wet. That was until after my girls tied their final game, after playing well all day, and had the wonderful idea to empty the ice cold contents of a gatorade cooler onto my head. And back. And shoes. It was their revenge against a silly string attack I arranged earlier in the day. It was miserable, and completely flattering.

I was asked to come back next season. I agreed.

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