First of all, I’d like to sincerely thank all of those of you who liked or commented on my previous post. Maybe I always appear chirpy and positive, but I am actually extremely insecure about my own writing. Many days I believe that I cannot write one word of sense. Many days I believe that I will never become a writer. So, thank you for the positive feedback. You’re helping to keep my dream alive. This means incredibly much to me, so here’s a picture of a cat to say thank you. A cat wearing a top hat. And it is indeed sitting on a mat.
It took me hours, because I’m so useless at Photoshop. Let me work in GIMP and I’ll have it done in a jiffy, but, oh my, Photoshop is hard to learn.
I have absolutely no athletic talent. I am completely useless at anything physical. The only kind of sport that I was vaguely good at school was the long distances running, and even that was not because I was good at it. I was just too stubborn to give in when I was tired and everybody else was super bad at it. Do not even ask me to run a block these days. That is what you get for working in the library all day.
Anyway, this is what happened the first time that I had athletics trials in school, when I had just started school.
We had to run the hundred metres and sit down beyond the finish line when we got there. I proved to be so slow that my whole group were already seated when I was still approaching the finishing line. That I had to run in the under 7 years group (the youngest possible) and I was only 6 and 2 months at that stage probably did not help, now that I think of it, because some of the other people were already 7, or almost 7.
And I had to go through this every year, because the school held trials every year, probably hoping that some late-blooming talent would reveal itself. After all, you’re only worth something to the school if you can bring in prizes. If not, just go keep yourself busy somewhere. I had to try everything: javelin – I nearly poked someone’s eye out; high-jump – I landed on the beam, ouch; long-jump – I got my shorts full of sand from skidding on my bum, but that was all; shot put – I nearly broke a toe. In the end, I concluded that I had the athletic ability of a tree.
Actually, most trees would have done better at soccer than I did. (That’s football to all you weird people.) In my final year of high school, they constantly made us play soccer for Physical Exercise.
(Most) trees do not fall over if they get hit by a soccer ball. Elana, however, proved that she does fall over when hit with a soccer ball. This is no great effort for me, as I have the ability to fall over my own feet while standing still.
This was not my only fail at soccer, however. If I ever got the ball and managed to dribble it, I quite often forgot which one was my team’s goal. But seeing that our goals were often represented by two schoolbags and a tin can, I consider it understandable that I got confused. I also sometimes forgot which people were in my team and then I passed the ball to the wrong people. Oh dear, sorry.
I also quite often ran up to the ball, meaning to kick it and then completely missing it, running right past it and kicking empty air. Clearly, I have no aim.
But the best fail-moment of all… Oh, that embarrassing day…
I’ll let the pictures speak for me:
Yes, I tried kicking the ball, actually aiming straight this time, and ended tripping over it. Ouch. It was my class’s entertainment for the day. The girl who could trip over a soccer ball. It’s like the new version of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.
Now it is rather funny, but it really wasn’t funny when it happened. Ah well, that’s what school is for, isn’t it? Making embarrassing memories that you can laugh about in a few years’ time.
And… that’s my story for today.
Tomorrow I’m finally going to go see The Hunger Games. I know, I’m the last person in the world on the bandwagon. Anyway, when I checked before release to see when it was coming out, I saw that it was rated 16 for violence. And I was thinking that simply meant that my 15-year-old-face and I were going to have trouble at the ticket office again. As usual. They always give me trouble. Why would I ask for an adult ticket if I was a teenager? So that I could pay more? Not likely. One of these days, if they doubt my age again, I should just toss my driver’s license on the counter and say “Read my birthdate. Read it!” Um… what I meant to say was that I see the rating has now been dropped to only 13V. Hopefully, they won’t give me trouble now, but then again, I’d believe anything.