Fever Pitch

S is for Spring. Spring is for baseball.

In the movie Fever Pitch, Drew Barrymore’s character dates a guy who is a diehard Red Sox fan. She goes to all of the games with him despite his crazy “fan girl” obsession because she loves him. His dedication to the team and through them, his grandfather’s memory, is something she is willing to put up with for the sake of their relationship.

My boyfriend AJ, who plays baseball for UC Riverside, had a game at SDSU, so my two friends, Steph and Tommy, and I made the difficult trek there to watch them play. Driving to the field we got lost and when we got there, Steph and I ran around the parking area trying to find the parking permits. When we finally arrived at the game, we were an hour late and almost four innings in. We still got to sit through two and a half hours for the last seven innings and cheered our boys on to victory. Although I’m sure he was ecstatic we were there, the end was the moment I’d been waiting all day for, getting to see my player for the few minutes before he left for school. Three hours of driving, stressing, cheering and anticipating in exchange for five minutes, but five perfect minutes with the boy I see every few weeks during the season. So worth it.

Present Tense, Not Future Tense.

After dinner on my 17^th birthday, my boyfriend, Jordan, and I sat on the couch watching some sappy chick flick. While fiddling with a rubber band, I made a genius move; I snapped him with the band and it was war. He tried blocking it, I snapped him. He tried holding my hands back, I snapped him again. For my final maneuver, I held the band up to my face and aimed it for the long shot toward his chest. I had my target in position; everything was set for the perfect hit. In my excitement I pulled back the rubber band, so quickly that I pulled it out of my front fingers resulting in it snapping me in the eye, instead of Jordan in the chest. He laughed, I cried in defeat.   

I've always been known as a forward thinker. I plan everything in advance to the tee- outfits, outings, meals, goals- my life runs on the idea of “okay, now I’m doing this, what am I going to do three steps from now?”  I see what is ahead, and not what is in front of my face.  I am so focused on the path ahead that I don’t notice the wall that I run into while entering the library. Live life in the here and now, the future will happen, eventually. 

Baby heads, texting, and water balloons.

Research papers should not be started at 8pm. As I was frivolously reading about the various types of infant hereditary and congenital diseases I started freaking about the 4% of children who end up with these conditions. That’s such a small number and yet, the odds of my hypothetical future child having one or more of the names on a list freaked me out and I was frantically texting Jordan (the sane person in my life) about how I was never having children because of this tiny little statistic. I was over reacting, and sort of stalling.

Texting delays research, which delays writing, which delays sleep.  I’m a pro at multi tasking.

Rationality goes out the window at 1am. I was also texting my friend AJ from camp. Camp is the highlight of my summer. I’m a sports leader. In sports we play a lot of water games, because what 8-11 year old doesn’t like getting soaked with hoses and pegged with water balloons. A baby with hydrocephalus has an enlarged skull. Their head fills with fluid, especially around the soft spot of the skull. The skin stretches out and becomes transparent, like a water balloon. What is this, filling up a baby head with fluid until it pops, disease? No more peanut butter cups before bed.

A souvenir from across the sea...

Last year, Haiti experienced a 7.0 magnitude earthquake. Due to the mostly impoverished state of their country and the economy, Haiti was not prepared for this great disaster. The quake destroyed homes, cities, and pretty much the country as a whole. The Haitian people, blindsided by the event, struggled to find refuge and relief from the terror they were faced with. An earthquake that rocked the lives of almost ten million people still haunts their lives a year later.

A few weeks ago, Japan experienced an 8.9 magnitude earthquake. This natural disaster destroyed homes, cities and utilities as well as caused a tsunami that performed further damage to the country. Although Japan has faced earthquakes before, none have been this extreme or have caused detrimental waves. Since then, the country went without vital utilities such as water and electricity for days, they have experienced death, and a nuclear crisis that is still in effect. The Japanese people are experiencing something that will haunt them for days, months and years to come.

Almost every day, Southern California experiences an earthquake. An earthquake so small a magnitude no one notices. The last major quake that affected San Diego was Easter of last year, 7.2 magnitudes. No homes were lost, no buildings collapsed, no countries in ruins.

We who live in here see the destruction across the sea on tv and read about it on the internet. We sit in our cozy houses on the beach or in the mountains, sipping our starbucks and think hey, that sucks, perhaps we should do something about it? So what do we do, we throw parties and perform benefit concerts to raise money for (insert charity here). We text “(insert country here) relief” to (insert numbers here) to donate a measly $10 to help out (insert other charity here) because it’s trendy.  I help out now, helping is cool. The government gives thousands and millions of dollars for “relief” aka “make ‘them’ more like ‘us.’” Because we don’t have life altering, world shattering earthquakes that destroy countries in a matter of seconds, we have every day life. 

Beating the Odds...

I grew up with two best friends. A few weeks ago one of those friends got married to his girlfriend of a little over a year. In June, the other is getting married to her boyfriend of almost four years. Four people, at or under the age of twenty with no college degree and without a steady, well paying job, married and off to start their lives as “responsible adults” in society.  The best day of their lives and all I could think about was statistics in this situation. “60 percent of marriages for couples between the ages of 20 and 25 end in divorce” (National Center for Health Statistics), that’s an unsettling thought. To think that my two friends, happy in the here and now, have a 40 percent chance of being “together forever.” In a few years they may or may not have children, but will these kids be the saving factors in their marriage or will they become a statistic also? Will they be able to advance in life without the degrees the business world tells us we must have to get a decent job and not slip below the standard? Would they really have a better chance if they had waited?

All of these statistics and weddings only got me deeper into reflection- what about my life, relationship, education, future? Do I want to be another number, or do I want to continue on with my education and basically “marry my degree?” Studies show that women who marry older and are more career focused are less likely to be happily married, are more likely to cheat on their husbands, and also less likely to have children or be happy with having children. I don’t want my future to be sad and alone- I want a family eventually- but I also want to be successful with a doctorate in one hand and my own practice in the other.

So many thoughts swimming in my head. I know I can’t control others and I can’t control statistics, but I can control myself. I know what I want and how to execute it, all I can do is live, wait and see, and hope I’m not another number.

How to Survive as a Gummy

“OH NO IT’S THE MONSTER!!” cries the generic orange smiley face as it unsuccessfully tries to escape the jaws of the hungry beast. Next it goes after the blue and pink smilies. They try to run. The pink smiley trips over a pile of apple flavored nuggets and falls subject to the beast’s stomach. The blue smiley looks back sympathetically, but in this situation, it’s every smiley for itself. A purple smiley with a bite taken out of it pulls the blue smiley down behind a cookie. “What are you doing?! The monster will see you!” It whispers, but the whispers are too loud. The hungry beast swoops down with one easy swipe and eats both smiles and then the cookie. Is there no one who can save this delicious town? Is there not a hero who can rescue this edible population…?

Of course not. They’re fruit snacks; they’re made to be eaten. Whoever said not to play with your food was obviously wrong and has never had the joy of eating these healthy gummy things.

Awkward Turtle...

 The low hum of chatter and the clanking of plates and cups and bowls filled the air like white noise.  In front of me, on the other side of Amy, a woman in athletic clothing ate with a student at a date table; chewing with her mouth open so that her French fry mush was visible. To the right of me, a sophomore attempted at flirting with the somewhat attractive guy across from her; giggling at whatever he said, shyly looking away but at the same time overly acting like she was intently paying attention to him. To my left, people hurried in and out of the dish return; attempting to avoid the smell. It was definitely a normal day in the caf. Or so we thought.

In the midst of all the usual, the unusual happened. From the dish return we heared, “OH FUCK!” and then a fit of male laughter. The entire caf went silent with the exception of a few nervous laughs. Everyone just stared, at him and at each other, trying to figure out how to respond. The big, tough guy who thought it would be funny to yell an explicative, basically created a cafeteria wide awkward moment.