And 7 months later...

Wow, 7 months. I haven't posted here in 7 months. That seems so strange to me. I was so excited about this. About having a space to place my thoughts and to let feelings and stories and emotions flow out of me as naturally as it did. Honestly, I completely forgot about this until my good friend Kyle had asked me if I was still blogging. Life got in the way. Work, school, dating, and trying to get my shit together really got in the way of things like this.

Since the last time I was here I have moved home, started going to a community college, got a job at a coffee shop not far from my house, and started dating. I was really content. Until recently. I realized that I had gotten boring! Me! Meagan Amanda Heier was boring! How the hell did this happen?! I used to be the girl that people turned to during a sad time because I always had a story to tell after a drunken rampage with my best friend Bailey.

Oh how I miss Bailey. We were such a rock for each other when I was living in Seattle. Friends, no, soul sisters like that come around so rarely that holding on to those people is the most important thing a person could do to keep their sanity. Anyway, back to the point.

I was exciting! I lived for adventure and said "Fuck the man!" every Friday night. And Saturday night. And maybe on the occasional Tuesday afternoon. Then I moved home and started working on myself. I fucked off for a little bit and then I got this job at the coffee shop. Got promoted after 2 months and worked a bunch. I started to be so busy that I was no longer satisfied with relaxing. I had to go go go. I totally got a thrill out of it too. Yes! I was being a productive member of society!

Don't get me wrong, I love how my life is going. I think I am heading down a really awesome path. But last night I made a realization. I never do any thing fun. I work, study, sleep, and drink coffee. That's about it.

So, I need to rediscover my sense of adventure. I miss being exciting. It's time to let loose and be a little less serious.

Soccer almost killed me

I played soccer for two years when I was in elementary school. My first year was in Kindergarten, and my second was in 2nd grade.

I remember absolutely despising soccer. Both times. I originally joined because my best friend Ali Boehler played, and my parents totally encouraged me being an athlete. And of course I thought that I was going to be God's gift to soccer. And I totally was not. At all. And here are the three reasons why:

1. Ali and I were not on the same team. I was so upset when I found out that I didn't get to play my first sport ever with my best friend. I mean come on! She was my best friend! I needed to be on her team. But, I wasn't and I never got my wish. I'm actually not sure why. It probably had something to do with the fact that Ali was a really thin girl that looked like she had an athletic future, and I was a chubby child that really probably had no future as an athlete (This actually didn't end up being true. I was pretty gifted at riding horses, an okay volleyball player, and a kind of talented, kind of cocky shot-put and discus thrower). We probably had try outs or something and she was probably waaaay better than me.

2. I hated running. I still hate running. With my whole soul. I have always found it very inconvenient. It's like walking (which is great; I love walking) but faster and you are out of breath after. It's not fun. And around this time, my sisters were both diagnosed with asthma. So obviously I thought I had asthma too. I remember there was one game that I was so out of breath that I made them take me out of the game and I made my parents give me my sister's inhaler. I was convinced that I was going to die. That was it. That's how my life was going to end. I was going to die on the side of a soccer field at the ripe young age of seven with my parents trying to save my life with an inhaler that I did not need. But really I was just out of shape and chubby and unable to run for long periods of time because I was out of shape and chubby.

3. It was boring. I thought soccer was so boring. They didn't let me play the position that I wanted to play (which was the coveted goalie position) and the position that I did play (maybe wing or something? Is that a position in soccer? I wouldn't know. I don't follow the sport), my coach told me that I had to stay on our end of the field the whole time and I had to keep the other team away from the goal. But that was so boring. The ball was always on the other team's side of the field and I was so bored of just standing there with nothing to do. So of course I had to entertain myself in some way. Sometimes I took up dancing on the field (please note that I am about as good of a dancer as a squirrel with an acorn stuck up it's butt). I would prance around because I didn't like just standing. It was more exciting to shake my groove thang. Other times, I would just sit down on the field. My coach did not like this one at all. He would yell at me to get up, but he just didn't get it! I was so bored and standing for too long hurt my body, at least that was how I felt. And plus, why would the field be full of three-leaf clovers if we couldn't look for ones with 4 leaves? That just seemed preposterous to me. I wanted a four-leaf clover so badly because I had never found one, and at seven years old, that was my life goal. I would search at recess, at the park, in the middle of soccer games; anywhere there were patches of clovers, you would find me on my hands and knees searching for that clover with 4 leaves on it. I needed that clover, but I never found one.

You might be wondering why I decided to play soccer for two years instead of just one. I hated soccer from the beginning. That's why I didn't play when I was in first grade. But when I was in second grade, all my friends were playing and I felt left out. But when I started playing again that year, I regretted it completely. That was the worst decision I made for my recreational life in elementary school.

Oh, and they also eventually let me play goalie. Once.