Game Two

The ritual of getting a soccer (from now on referred to as football) match started is lost on me. I’ve not watched enough games. The players walk out, solid, tough, almost a glazed look in their eye as they prepare to play for their entire country.

At the World Cup, each player is paired with a young, I assume, South African child. Why? In honor of the host country? Looks odd, these grown men standing with a child they barely know. Although it will be the greatest experience the children will remember.

(Above, my brother Christopher (left) playing high school 'soccer' in 2002.)

In the packed stands, camera flashes light the darkness seemingly in unison; there are so many taking pictures all the time, when one stops, another a few feet away goes off as if to replace it. None of these people know the other, unified simply by the love of a sport and, lets face it, money (who can afford tickets to the World Cup AND a trip to South Africa?).

It may seem like I only become a soccer fan every four years, like other Americans only like gymnastics at the Olympics. Part of this is due to lack of opportunity – lately, with no TV and no time to look up when matches are, much less where I can find them again online, I do not watch live football matches. But truly – since I was a little girl, seeing that striped green pitch, littered with cute but battered players wearing lucky headbands and shoes, and hearing in the crowd a mix of several incoherent battle chants – my heart soars. Those who can’t play, watch; those who can’t watch, dream. I enjoy having a sport where I can yell at the screen because I know what I’m watching - too much confusion for me in American football.

Soldiering On

Writing for a living makes it difficult for me to write in my spare time. I think that makes me a terrible writer, really I shouldn’t even be calling myself one. But once I get off work, answering emails, phone calls, Googling my research (just to start!), the last thing I want to do is keep writing. So I’ve been neglectful. And of course, now that I’m not writing, this has become a way to keep myself from going crazy.

I’ve been off work for five weeks, away from Molokai and my friends for four. Five weeks! Except one summer in college, when I worked at a Younkers, I have never had five weeks off my kind of work. Where I’m studying, writing, doing something with my mind. And my mind has turned to mush. No stimulation except TV – the worst kind – and sporadic conversations with my mom or brother.

Besides not working, it’s been weird being home. Driving makes me crazy. I wouldn’t call it road rage, more like justifiable road disbelief. There are simply too many people out there. Walmart is the worst, everyone weaving in and out of aisles that are no longer in straight rows, and I don’t know where anything is anymore. I was at a Quizno’s with my mom today for lunch, and I was overwhelmed. So many choices, and then once you make your decision and order, they still double check everything! Your sandwich comes with tomatoes and mushrooms, would you like tomatoes and mushrooms? …Yes! If I didn’t, I either wouldn’t have ordered the sandwich or have told you, no tomatoes or mushrooms! I can’t tell whether its fear of lawsuits (someone orders peanut butter and jelly, but gasp! are allergic to peanuts), or knowing their customer is probably stupid and has to double check their order for them. I did used to work in food service, so it’s probably the latter.

I miss the beach, looking up at the mountains as I walk down the main street, walking in a grocery store and saying hi to people. I miss being in on the action – when I read my paper and I don’t know what’s going on. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get back in the groove right away. I miss my friends, and am so excited if it works out to move in with one of them (cottage = vastly superior to the Juicy Mango).

For now, I must embrace my friends here and my family. That’s what I’m here for, and that’s all I have. I will miss them too, once I leave. I must continue to do something nice for my mom everyday, be patient with my stepmother, and not be so lazy with my friends.