Only As Colorful As You Make It.

STORY #1 


On Tuesday I got a concussion.

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STORY #2

Last Tuesday my intramural soccer team, named Jessica Alba, was up against our nemesis, the latino team called The Expendables.  We lost to them earlier this semester and they had taunted us about it ever since.  For the past couple weeks, whenever we would bump into them at school or on Tuesday nights, they would trash talk about how they were going to kick our butts for a second time.

So then Tuesday rolled around.  The big game day.  Our captain "Ponytail Jon" had been prepping us for this game for weeks.  He had been trash talking the latinos, thinking out strategies, spamming us with text messages, and even writing out motivational speeches to give in our huddle.  Okay maybe not the speeches, but his eye was on the prize and it motivated the rest of us young "Jessica Albians".  He was extra careful to make sure we would have enough subs and that we all knew the time of our game.  When 8 PM rolled around last Tuesday, we were ready for war.

We were off to an excellent start, scoring two goals in no time.  The Expendables were only off to a slow start we soon found out, as they quickly caught up.  The score bounced around from being tied, to us winning, to us losing, to tied more quickly than I can even remember.  It was INTENSE.  I don't remember being in a more important game in my entire life and having so much at stake.  Jessica Alba's pride and dignity was on the line, and we were the proud defenders of such.  

With a little less than five minutes left in the first half, the ball was kicked super high, just grazing the rafters of the gym roof.  I ran to position myself under it and as it fell closer to my jump range, I launched myself into the air to head it far away from the enemy.  Unfortunately, my team mate Carlos Rojas came running across the gym with the same goal in mind.

(Before I go on, something must be said of Carlos.  With a height of approximately 5'6" and the intensity of a mad bull, Carlos is the most dangerous player in the entire intramural soccer league. He averages 3 penalties a game and holds the current record for the most blue cards on our team.  No one has spent as much time in the penalty box as Carlos Rojas.  And no one is as frightening to play against as Carlos Rojas.)

Time stood still as two determined bodies flew through the air towards the small and helpless soccer ball.  Luckily for that soccer ball, no head touched it.  Unluckily for my head, Carlos' head touched it.  More like tortured it.  Or trampled it.  A deafening silence entered the gym as everyone stared in disbelief as Carlos "The Killer" Rojas' forehead punched Kristen Gibb's temple.  We both spiralled away from the impact, landing in sprawled spread eagle positions nearly ten feet away from where head butting contact was made.

Something like this.  But the ball did NOT hit me in the face!

Things instantly went black.  I don't remember what else.  I heard voices.  I felt the presence of a crowd drawing around me.  I became aware that my body was laying on the floor.  I was instantly embarrassed of the scene I must be creating and sat up really quick.  Too quick.  My head hurt.  No, my head was throbbing with the most unbearable pain I had ever experienced in my whole entire life.  I opened my eyes for the first time in what must have been two minutes.  I saw the faces of both teams, the referees, angels, and a leprechaun.  Stars surrounded me.  I was finally dragged to the sidelines and the game resumed.  

I've played soccer with my fair share of injuries.  I thought for sure I'd be ready for the second half when an Intramural Supervisor approached me and sincerely asked me not to.  But since I don't take orders from anyone, I decided to play goalie.  Our team only had two girl players and since we had to have two girls playing at all times, it was either going to be us playing short a player, or us playing with me in net.  The second half began.

I'm no amateur in net, but it has definitely been years since I've done it.  And I'd never tried it before when my head was ringing like a bell.  I did get scored on.  But I did save some.  As the timer ticked down from 20 minutes, the intensity of the game began to climb.  We slowly began to pull ahead.  Probably cause we had an awesome goalie.  Suddenly, the game was over.  Jessica Alba had won.  Our team hollered for joy.  There were tears.  There were high fives.  I even managed a hug from "Ponytail Jon".

After that, I went home to bed.  Because my head really, REALLY started to hurt.  And then I died in my sleep.  Just kidding, but I should have.  Because the next day, my mom yelled at me until I went to a sketchy walk-in clinic, to a doctor who liked to touch his nose.  This guy took one look at me and then told me I had a concussion.  He even proved it when I couldn't touch the tip of my nose with my index finger when my eyes were closed.  That was weird.  I felt like an idiot.

So the next few days, I took it real easy.  I wrote a paper.  I ate some cereal.  I had a nap and drooled all over myself.  Just all the things required for a speedy recovery.  My head still hurts to touch, but at least my face and neck aren't constantly numb anymore.  It was really a close call.  I'm pretty much lucky to be alive.  

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"Life is either a great adventure or nothing"

I see this quote every time I creep a very talented girls blog.  It wasn't until this week that I realized that life is only as colorful as you make it.  Either you let everyday, every experience, and every moment pass through in dull monotony, summarized in a single, boring statement, or you bring it to life, allowing yourself to be excited, fascinated, and inspired.

I want to live my life like a little kid.  Although many things are no longer new and exciting, I want to embrace each moment, choosing to make the dull become colorful.  I want life to be a great adventure.