Laker Hockey Players Victorious in Maccabiah Games

By: Jordan Johnston
7/30/2013 11:30AM

Recently two members of the Lake Superior State hockey team headed to Israel to compete in the 19th Maccabiah (English: Maccabi) games. The Maccabiah games are all Jewish sporting competitions that are held every four years. Often referred to as “The Jewish Olympics,” the Maccabiah games are based off the story of Maccabi whose story has become synonymous with courage, success, and victory. Major emphasis is placed on the importance of the State of Israel in the lives of Jewish people from across the world. Uniting close to ten thousand Jewish people from all across the globe, the Maccabiah games are a significant event in the lives of many Jewish people. Seniors, Zach Sternberg and Dan Radke, were chosen to represent Canada on their men’s open hockey team. After sweeping preliminary competition including a 15-0 win over Team Israel, Team Canada took the gold medal defeating Team USA 7-1. According to the Maccabiah Canada website, Dan Radke tallied 6 total points during competition with 2 goals and 4 assists. Zach Sternberg also totaled 6 points with 6 assists. Radke and Sternberg return to Canada on July 31st and will continue preparing for the 2013-2014 Laker Hockey season. There is no doubt that their experience in the Maccabiah games will help prepare them for the upcoming season in the all new WCHA. For more information on Maccabi Canada visit: www.maccabihockey.com. For more information on the 19th Maccabiah games and complete game recaps visit: www.maccabiah.com.

Let Us

We can speak without saying anything. Listen to me. Look into my eyes and listen. Do you hear that? I’m screaming out the truth so you can finally understand what you need to know. Even in the dark our eyes search and find. Hands clasped in the darkness. I can feel your pulse race. I can feel your smile dance across your face. Would this truth kill the light if spoken out loud? Would you be surprised to find that in these moments entangled in each other I’ve found freedom? You pulled and pulled while I pushed and pushed and now here we are wrapped in heady silence that threatens to kill me. If I whispered would I steal your breath away? Would you grasp for oxygen with your hands that are tangled up in mine? Would the truth coat your lungs like thick black smoke and leave you coughing to expel it? Or, would it be the breath you need to finally dive deep into this partnership of hearts? Would we sink into ecstatic bliss they write about in the songs that make me think of you? Oh my dear silly little boy oh that you knew you were. You speak yet say nothing, what of that? Your eyes discourse and I will answer. I slip into Shakespeare so easily when you are around. Let us not be star crossed lovers that rip apart the hearts of young girls while they read our tale. Let this not be a story that I read on rain soaked nights and memorize the words. Let this be the song that pulls the lyrics from my lips before I even know the chords. The melody that lulls me to sleep on countless nights no longer alone in my bed or in my heart. Oh just listen to the truth that seeps from my eyes like tears on the night I thought you were abandoning me. I’m screaming to you. I’m pleading with you. Let me stand close to you and hint at truths with my vocabulary I’ve saved just for you. Do you know? Oh god I think you know. Tell me you know so that I can finally say it out loud. No more beseeching with my eyes. No more key strokes with words I’ll never let you see. Let me say it. Let you read it. Let us feel it. Let me, let you, let us. 

An Abyss of Unspoken Truths

The ghost ship slips slowly through the river. If not for its lights it would not exist on this cold northern night. The river ripples softly reacting to the intrusion. Everything remains silent. The stars sparkle in pity for the girl on the banks. They see it all. They know it all. Here she is with words unspoken on her lips and a year of regret to reflect upon. If not for the sound of the breath that shakes she would not exist on this sad northern shore. The moon looks down upon the scene and wonders if the girl that basks in his glow will ever learn to glow for herself. It knows her greatest secret. The truth locked in her heart refusing to part from her lips. The moon knows her greatest fear. Another denial to the life she longs to live. He’s watched her push and pull the silly boy who might be crazy enough to save her. She silently counts the minutes off her life as she takes another drag from the things she was supposed to give up. She’s a paradox of life. Refusing to hold what will save her and failing to reject the things that kill her. She denies herself no punishment for the crimes of which she continuously charges herself with. Much like the moon and stars that look upon her, she would be nothing if she did not shine. Shine upon her people that look at her in wonder. How can she, much like a star, shine so bright yet stay so far away? How can she, much like the moon, push and pull the tides of others while never showing her entire being? The aves of the river avoid her bench. They smell the toxins that seep from her pores. She will ruin them just as she has ruined herself. She takes the beautiful and the bold and breaks their wings so that they may not fly above her wall and enter her garden of forget me nots. She saw a chance for salvation from herself and with her fear and aggression she pushed it far away. Silly boy, had forgotten that he must bring a shield into this battle. The ghost ship slips slowly around the bend. If not for the sound of the water falling into the rocks one would not know it had ever been. The stars dim in frustration for the girl that had prayed for their guidance. No star, no compass can guide the one who’s truly lost. On the banks of this sad northern shore she whispers bated apologies the hero does not want to hear. The moon looks down and sighs for the girl who compared her love to him. Her greatest secret sinks into the river. An abyss of unspoken truths that she can never tell. 

Gains made in the "year of loss." A look back on 2012.

I’d be lying if I said 2012 treated me well. The tail end of 2011 was a slow tragedy leading into the sadness that surrounded 2012. I remember arriving at my parents house only to turn around and return to the Soo because a friend of mine was dealing with personal tragedy. I sat across from him at my kitchen table and we talked about death and sadness lingered in the air. Meanwhile around that time we put Gramps in hospice care. Mortality is a terrifying side effect of life. I suppose it was no surprise, if I’m being honest Gramps had been dying a slow death for years, but the impending doom of death hung in the air twisting and flashing amongst the twinkling Christmas lights we’d hung in his room. I knew when I kissed him on the forehead the night before I left for Ohio that I would probably never see him again, and I didn’t. Shortly after the beginning of the new year he closed his eyes for the final time and finally he was free of pain. It was both heartbreaking and relieving in one fell swoop. I dearly loved—love my Grandfather, but for as long as I can remember he’d been sad.  There was a sadness in his heart that came from losing my Grandmother to cancer when she was so young, and to then later in life lose his old friend, soulmate, and wife to another form of cancer. So when he finally slipped away I felt selfishly sad and comforted in knowing that perhaps he was reunited with the women that he so dearly missed. It was a rough way to begin a new year, but my heart was healing and I was moving on. Then, tragedy struck again, this time unexpectedly. My only surviving Grandmother was a force of nature. My father’s mom was a woman that greatly shaped me into the person that I am today. She was a lover of life, a zealot when it came to laughter, and a true angel walking on earth. She was 89 years old with more spunk and life in her than most kids my age. But, in one fell swoop life caught up with her, just short of 9 decades of life she suffered a stroke. She held on for a week and then the last of my grandparents silently left this earth. She was much older than my Grandfather on my mom’s side of the family, but her death was the surprising one of the two. I sat on the stool and listened as my mom took the call from my dad as he whispered the news I had hoped wouldn’t come. I left minutes later to drive back to my home in the Soo and in that hour long drive I mourned the loss of two grandparents. I was overcome with a new felt sadness for Grandma Marnie, my mom’s mother. The woman I never met. I cried for Grandma Connie, my mom’s stepmom and a woman I barely remember. I choked back sobs over the loss of Pa, my dad’s father and a man I was robbed of at a such a young age. There was a sudden realization that I had reached the point in my life where I no longer had grandparents. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I thought of my parents, now parentless and I was filled with unbridled terror over the thought that I too would someday have to live without my parents. I cursed and I screamed and I cried as I drove north on I-75. This was the start of my year and already I had had enough. I wished the year away.

As Spring broke we said our final goodbyes to Gram in a funeral service filled with both tears and laughter. I was glad for the laughter, because I knew Gram would have wanted it that way. Summer slowly crept in and a clash of family schedules postponed Gramps’ memorial. I spent all Summer slowly but surely healing. I knew I owed it to my Grandparents to pick my heart up off the floor, dust it off, and move on. In the early Fall we gathered on a boat to send Gramps’ off for one last sail on the water. As we sprinkled his ashes into the lake that holds so much meaning to my mother’s family I choked back tears and read the poem that always meant so much to him. It was the final chapter in the year of loss for me.

As Fall dragged on I was filled with a feeling of new beginnings. Fall has always been special to me, I was born in the Fall, and something about the crisp air, the leaves whispering in the winds, and the beautiful sunsets have always moved me. I’ve always believed that with loss comes gain and I was on the brink of gaining new members of my family. For me family has always been about love, not blood. Family to me is a strong sense of connection to another human being, an undying love and appreciation for someone that finds themselves deeply enclosed in the crevices of your heart. I found my new family members in a place that has always been a beacon of hope and happiness in my life. I met two of my dearest friends—sisters in that place. The motto I’ve always had in regards to our friendship is “all I had to do was turn around.” They’d been standing behind me as I stood in front of the glass for months and suddenly I turned around and our friendship was born. That same magic happened again this year. I turned around and looked around and found a whole new group of people. A friendship forged through a shared passion for hockey, slightly warped senses of humor, and a need for family whilst away from the ones we already called family. Those people have been the saving grace for the year of 2012. Suddenly a year that had made me feel so alone suddenly made me feel supported. Though I do not know these individuals as well as I would personally like to, our times together have made me smile and laugh during a year I was sure would only be filled with tears.

As I sit on the brink of a brand new year I can’t help but be hopeful. Though with these new friends came a specific person that made me shed tears for a form of heartbreak I’m all too familiar with, I wouldn’t never wish them away. They have given me what I so desperately needed, a feeling of family. Though these people and this bond can never replace the Grandparents I’ve lost this year, they can help heal the sadness that came from that loss. I can only cling to them and the memories we create as I finish up the last moments in the town I’ve loved and lived in for over half a decade. I can tuck them safely in the crevices of my heart and keep them with me even when I finally leave this place. I shudder to think what this year would have been had I not met them. For a girl that avoids using words like fate and destiny I can’t help but think that I was meant to still be here and a searching for family because it was in the year of loss that I gained so very much. 

The Story of a Lighthouse and a Ship

I remember the first moment I saw him. Something deep inside me screamed. A loud earth-shattering scream that vibrated through my entire body. His smile. Oh, his smile. It was like a lighthouse guiding, drawing me in after years of floating out at sea. That first night, everyone could see it in my eyes. A new light, slowly seeping into my hazel eyes, my heart was awake. That first night we spent in my sacred temple. I forgot to say my prayers because I was, in that moment all consumed. He stood so near and I could feel his warmth. I could hear the bells in the distance or perhaps it was a ringing from the blood rushing to my face. Then he made me laugh. He made me throw my head back and laugh the way my Grandmother taught me how. It echoed off the ceiling and he smiled. I made him laugh. A deep laugh working its way from his toes to the ceiling. It circled through the air and encompassed me. It lit up the part of my heart I had promised to let remain dark. His eyes, the way they danced to the sound of our jokes, lost in a melody no one but us two could appreciate. That first moment, first night, I was so sure it was the start of many…and it was.

I remember the first night he let me entangle myself in him. We sat close, too close for friends. We shared whispers and secrets. I snuck a glance, and he was looking back. Our eyes locked and we stared at each other. Something so comfortable about the discomfort of looking into each other’s windows of the soul. I smiled and he whispered “What?” and I knew there was no reason for that question—he knew. Our bare arms touched and sparks ignited in the dimly lit room and I shook from both fear and excitement. Who was I in that moment, but a young girl on the verge of something she thought wasn’t possible? I asked the stars for more moments like that and they gave me what I needed.

I remember the way it felt to fold into him. He shifted and twisted so that I could lie beneath his sun. My fingers stretched to get lost within his hair and he tilted his head and I believed. I danced with my friends on back porches making more wishes on the stars of Northern Michigan and they smiled. Something was starting, and like a wildfire spreading through my veins I burned with hope. I was sure, I’d never been so sure. The girl that swore destiny was a lie that people told themselves started whispering words such as fate and the stars twinkled.

I remember the first sick twisted shred of doubt as it crept into my mind. I remember crying in front of the people I loved and them telling me hope was not lost. The same twinkle that danced within my eyes was there within his. I confided in my brothers that my heart was falling and they held me and told me that I deserved this feeling. My captain took my hand and told me I was beautiful and meant to be loved. I believed. I set timeframes and created opportunities to bring him to me. I reached out and touched the flame and came out unscathed. I was sure. They were sure. It was only a matter of time—or so I thought.

I remember the night he shattered the last beating corner of my heart. I stood within my temple and he softly whispered venom in my ear and I nodded my head like an obedient child. There is no such thing as fate. This silly girl should have known. My Irish blood craved escape within a bottle and I drank. I forced laughter to my face while my friends saw the broken bits of glass in my eyes. I sat on tables and sang silly songs and he watched. He tuned in to watch the show that he was directing and my past whispered lines for me to say. I escaped to a cold porch and looked up to find no stars. He asked me questions and I gave him truths he wasn’t ready to hear. We murmured false apologies that neither of us meant and I bled out in front of him.

I remember lying in bed replaying moments and analyzing footage. Something deep inside me screamed again, this time the scream was blood curdling pain. I refused to run aground in front of his lighthouse, I refused to let the shore rip my ship apart. He refused to push me away so I answered his muted calls. I catered and pined and clung to the hope, my friends, brothers, and captain had given me. I clung to the hope that swelled when his golden browns reflected in my hazels. The longer that I looked the more the stars laughed.

I remember giving. Letting little pieces of the broken glass fall into his hands thinking the heat from his body would meld them into something solid again. Like lightning striking sands on the shores of Lake Superior I thought he could meld my tiny pieces into a beautiful sculpted mess. But though the thunder rolled the lightning never struck. In a last ditch effort for salvation I rained upon him and he pulled on his raincoat and turned away.

I remember giving in and giving up. I swept the broken glass into my pocket and slowly turned away. Salt water poured from my eyes and I let it fall to the ground. I pulled anchor and slowly turned back out into the dark December seas. I set a course for anywhere but here and I looked for the stars. The stars that promised and then laughed had disappeared. A cold winter of the soul had settled in and the clouds covered the sky. The compass that had spun in his direction was now cracked and broken and tossed into the waves. I turned one last time to see if his lighthouse was still shining and though I could see its outline in the distance its light had burned out. I sailed into the dark without him ever knowing the life changing goods I had come to deliver. They stayed wrapped up in tattered boxes within the hull of my ship waiting for a lighthouse keeper with courage to shine for me.

Penny's Grey.

Listen Along
Her name is Jordan. She’s been alive on this earth for over two decades. She’ll never win a beauty contest, her weight makes sure of that. She’ll never blend into a crowd, her hair makes sure of that. Those are the first two things you notice about her, her hair and her weight. But, then she starts talking. There’s a 90% chance that within the first moments of meeting her she will make you laugh. She’s got a sharp Irish tongue, she exudes false confidence, and she laughs when anyone is watching. She’s passionate, or dear lord is she passionate. There is not much grey in her life, it’s love or hate, right or wrong, good or bad and she relishes in the extreme. When she commits to belief it takes over her soul. She is forever trying to keep it positive when it comes to other people. She wants them to feel loved. She wants them to feel like she would do anything to support them, because she would. She wants to be a P.R. maven and help the people of the world fall in love with the people she already loves. In the decades she’s been alive she’s perfected the art of loving other people. With no holding back, with no shame, she loves. She wraps her loves in perfect blue paper and stores them deep inside the softness of her soul, forever careful to not let those people venture into the harden, bitter depths she hides from the world. Oh she’s jaded. Little parts of her soul have been blackened by her loving ways. She never learned to love herself. She thinks she’s ugly because others have told her so. She thinks she’s a lost cause because others have let her wander. She knows she’s heartbroken because she can’t feel it beating.  There is dead tissue left and it festers. It hides behind her eyes and she smiles.

Her name is Morgan and she is forever 21. No, no, not like the store. No, forever 21 in that she doesn’t age. She’s a young adult with a chip on her shoulder and a beer in her hand. She’s the protector. She comes around when Jordan can’t be seen. When the darkness creeps into Jordan’s eyes, Morgan hides Jordan away in a room with a book and a Hanson CD. Morgan doesn’t play games. She too does not believe in grey. It’s now or never with Morgan and if the answer is never she won’t bat an eyelash, she will simply walk away. Morgan drinks too much and she talks too much. Morgan will tell you things Jordan wouldn’t dare utter. She’ll give truth out like it’s candy on Halloween and she’ll laugh when your teeth rot.  At any given moment she will spew all of Jordan’s secrets and let them leak into your ocean like an oil tanker run aground. She’ll start off quietly passive aggressive and then shift into full blown aggression. She doesn’t like when Jordan gets hurt, because then she has to make an appearance and it’s not the kind of appearance she likes to make. She likes command performances on the stages of bars and townhouses making people laugh, complaining about the music, and blowing people’s minds with her unbridled drunken dysfunction. She likes to be a good time, she doesn’t like to be the center of a bad time. But, she will be, she’ll make your night the worst you’ve ever had if she has to. She’s the fury and the storm and she talks.

Her name is Penny. She has no age, just an old soul. She’s quiet, poetic, and kind. She’s shy in the worst times and can only ever express herself through art. She loves music, she lives inside a melody, and she’s sure every song she hears was written just for her. She’s the kind of girl you could fall in love with.  She’ll hold you as tightly as possible while you fall apart and she’ll cry tears over your pain. If you need her she will entangle herself with you and you won’t know if the tears on your cheek are hers or your own. Penny will write you songs. She will immortalize you with the swift movement of a pen or the click of fingers on a keyboard. She won’t be the one to make you laugh. Jordan and Morgan have monopolized that venture, laughter is their defense. Penny has no defense. Penny is the heart on the sleeve left for the elements of life to erode away. But, she never fades, she just quietly creeps back inside until the storm has passed. Then she’ll process it. Penny will take Jordan’s heartbreak and Morgan’s drunken mistakes and she will make something of them. She will be the one to find the moral at the end of the story and say the things the other girls don’t want to hear. She is honest, she cannot, will not lie. She will tell the others that she loves him and the others have no choice but to listen and to love. She will create the playlist of sad songs and make Jordan and Morgan feel something they don’t want to feel. Like Morgan, she never likes to see Jordan hurt, but she won’t pretend it didn’t happen.  She lives in the grey the other two claim don’t exist. She knows nothing is clear cut so she thinks and she feels. She will over analyze a situation until every moment has been gone over and then she will talk about it some more. She is the hurt and the pain and she feels.

They are three girls. Three completely messed up sides to the same person. They go through life taking turns so that not every side is seen at once. Jordan’s broken soul hidden by love and laughter take center stage. Morgan makes appearances and her fury leads to conversations most people don’t want to have. Penny tries to never show  her face, she lies hidden in prose and teardrops. But, all three of them fell for him. It was a general consensus  that this boy was different, he laughed at Jordan’s jokes and looked into her eyes even as the darkness crept. He sat next to Morgan while she gave her performance, he listened to her fury, and he didn’t run away. But Penny, she liked him best. He stirred within her that quiet, peaceful warmth, that had long been forgotten. He had side stepped the other two and he looked Penny in the eyes, he saw her, he’s the only one that’s ever actually seen her. But he hurt them. He told Jordan the words she couldn’t handle hearing again. He forced Morgan to step out and drink and laugh and then he forced her to truth and she gave it to him. But, Penny, he hurt her the worst. He denied her the chance she’s been waiting on since the moment she looked at him. She was going to be the best she’d ever been for him, she was going to forget the hurt and feel and write and sing and dance and love. Now, here they are again, all three huddled around the computer while Jordan pretends like it’s no surprise, Morgan smokes her millionth cigarette, and Penny types and she cries. Tomorrow they will all go back out into the world as one to smile, to talk, and to feel, lost in Penny’s grey. 

I Have No Title

She sat in a dark room, with music playing, an empty pack of cigarettes had fallen at her feet. Her fingers brushed across the keyboard so swiftly the text struggled to keep up. She was poised for the anger, she knew it had to come. It always follows the sadness. She screamed for the anger and she shook with the need to feel the fury. She’d learned this lesson before, if you can get to the anger the hurt stops. Yes, she’d learned this lesson before. She was a self-taught genius in the world of hurt. She once joked that she’d write a book. It’s cute how they really thought she was joking. No, she could write a book, she should write a book. Something with a catchy title like “He’s just not that into fat girls” or “They’ll always just want to be your ‘friend.’” It would fly off the shelves and women would laugh and relate and she’d be understood. Isn’t that what she was chasing? The ultimate understanding? She went over it again and again with everyone. She calculated her moves, she leaned her head, she looked him in the eyes. She hates looking into eyes, but she did. They all encouraged her. Oh how she loved when they smiled and said “he likes you.” Those little whispers about how adorable she is, they had no idea she could giggle. She had forgotten she could giggle. She gets lost in memories of the nights standing at the bottom of the stairs and her brother telling her she deserves this boy who makes her feel this way. Her old friend telling her she was beautiful and worth it and he’d be crazy to say no. They all kept whispering “go for it!” So she did. She moved closer and she lowered her voice and he leaned in to listen. That memory, god she can almost feel it’s warmth. So she cries. She’s sad today. It’s been a horrible week. It began with a verbal assault that included every possible hurtful thing in the world. She was violated, she’d lost trust, in a matter of seconds she had been hurt by a shower of verbal bullets and she barely pulled through. She thought she could prove the shooter wrong. She thought that she could survive it if she showed him the things he had said were lies. If she could be wanted he’d be proved wrong. But, he was right. A week later he was right and she was left with that knowledge. Perhaps that’s why she keeps avoiding eye contact with everyone. She’s the liar. She made them believe that she could have it this time. She tricked her friends into seeing the best sides of her and now they are left with this broken side of her. The side they've never seen. She’s so sorry. Every time she crys she just feels so sorry. She’s sorry to herself because no matter how much she hates herself today no one should have to feel this way. She’s sorry to her friends who don’t deserve to have to watch her cry. They shouldn't have to comfort her. She’s so sorry for him. She didn't mean to spill her heart out and make him feel guilty. That’s not fair and he doesn't deserve that. Most girls just move on right? She should move on, he said no. But, no always hurts. Especially because she only actually asks once every couple of years. She knows hurt, so she doesn't let it happen, but she fell this time. This time she opened up to people and she took direction, this time she thought she might actually have the shot. She ran the play over and over again in her head, she stops at the point, takes one last breath and shoots. But, she didn't even get the puck, she tapped the ice to let the world know she was ready to take her shot, and he denied her the shot. That shot could have won the game. It could have changed the entire season. So she’s sad because she missed her shot and that asshole was right about her. She’s sorry, sorry for herself because she’s starting to see a major pattern. She’s sorry to her friends, because she’s taking this way too hard and even she’s annoyed. And, she’s sorry to him, maybe she will be his friend, because he’s wonderful, and better to be friends with wonder than not know it all. She sits in her dark room and she types. She cries a little bit more because someone once told her “crying is not a sign of weakness, since birth it has always been a sign that you are alive.” She’s alive, she’s sad, but she’s alive. She’s not angry. He’s not angry that she cares too much how can she be angry that he doesn’t care. It’s a story she’s lived before and she’ll probably live it all over again. Because that shooter was right and until she can tell him he was wrong nothing will ever change.

Ends With You

 As with all blogs like this I have included an audio file for you to listen to because it makes it easier to follow and understand....also as always I love your comments and feedback! Laker Love!


Ends With You:

To tell him. To give a speech not for credit or glory, but for your heart. To hope that the smile he puts on your face doesn’t fade as you finish your conclusion. To take a chance that you just might be worthy of the love that pours from your soul so easily when you are amongst souls like his. Love, a strong word, a hurried word, infatuation more fitting, but not the word you’d use in your presentation. Desire, desire for the warmth radiating off him to cover you like your favorite blanket from your childhood. A split second, yes or no, victory or failure with no grey area. Mixed singles and confusion a thing of the past and then you’d know. But, no-- fear. Unbridled, all-consuming fear, a memory, a night in a car and being told that you were unworthy of love. A night spent crying on the steps, comforted by friends, knowing they’ll never understand, they try to say the right things, but it’s not their words you need. A quick glance behind you, eye contact, all else forgotten. Hello, I’ve been waiting for you. A sudden belief in fate, did the Creator finally send him after all this time? Were you meant to take six years because in that final year his soul would entangle in your. Did you just say that outloud? No, no, you typed in on a screen. That’s safe, maybe he won’t know it’s all about him. He already knows…he knows…he hasn’t ran…should you reach out. NO! NO! Don’t reach out, the burn, it’s still there from the last time. The scar, do they see it? No? You feel it. STOP! STOP! Don’t let this chance go, tell him, love him, no regrets. No, not love yet, adore him, you adore so well…admire him…BELIEVE in him. He’s not the team, he’s not a player, but he’s one that could be so much more than they ever were. What a passion without someone to share it with? Let them tell him, NO PLEASE DON’T SAY ANYTHING! He can’t know until you’re ready. You’re ready, You’re not ready. You’ll never be ready. Make an excuse, text him, wait for the response, blush when you see his name. Blush when you see his face, blush when he says your name. Blush, you’re always blushing, everyone can see it! DAMNIT! More face paint, all day, every day, don’t let him see you. He thinks you’re crazy and loud and crazy. So crazy. He doesn’t know you’re quiet, poetic, broken, lost, hopeful, so hopeful, he gives you hope. Oh shit, it’s that feeling again, hope, a desire, anticipation. Don’t anticipate, you always get let down. Could he catch you? Is he strong enough. Yes, no, yes, maybe, fuck. Beer, another cigarette, another talk with your friends. They see it, but do they see what they want to see? Do they have the same hope for you. Hope is blind, you scratched it’s eyes out the night the boy told you you were too fat to be loved. Aha! There it is! That boy is still haunting you. You swore you let him go. Can you let him go? Could reciprocated love make you finally forget? They swear you are worthy. Are you? Do you want to be? Love’s not safe and you need quiet and safe at the end of the night. Safe, he makes you feel safe already, if you jump into the water will he throw you a line? Pull you in? Or watch you sink, sink like an anchor. NO! YOU REFUSE TO SINK! Look at you, you could have given up on so many things so many times but you never do. You’re a believer and a lover. BELIEVE in yourself. LOVE yourself. BELIEVE he could LOVE you. To tell him. To give a final speech with a proper introduction, body, and conclusion. A short simple speech that begins with “I” followed by “want to love” and ending with “you.” It always ends with you.

Laker Love Is My Solution

You see, I have this theory. I truly believe that every once in a while life gives you a chance to reinvent yourself. For some women it’s a new hair cut, dress, or lipstick. For me the reinvention involves a moment of internal epiphany – a split second when I decide my life is going to be different.

 I remember the first time I felt the pull of this opportunity; I was a freshmen in high school. I felt some odd build up of excitement and pessimism. I was listening to jaded music that brought out some bitter side of me that was a direct result of the sideshow my life had been leading up to that. I felt like I had to make a statement. I would be the girl to laugh first, the girl to make you laugh first because I’d been a constant victim of drive by “humor” that left the masses in laughing fits and me simply wanting crumble. I’d stand out in a crowd for who I was. It would not be my physical appearance, my build, my hair, that would first draw them in. It would be the words and laughter seeping from my pores. That’s what they would see, that would be what they remembered. I used my Irish gift of gab as weapon against the world and I learned make them adore the very best sides of me. I hid the insecure little girl who wrote crappy poetry at night and listened to Janis Joplin songs with her cat. I took my jaded view of the world and turned it into comedy and like the best comics I kept them coming back to sold out shows in the halls and classrooms of my high school. I found an equally messed up group of kids to call my crew and we numbed the pain of small town Midwest kids the best way we knew how. Bon fires, back roads, drunken nights in farmers fields, and telling ourselves we were invincible.

Though we may have been invincible, our time together wasn’t. You add one girl with a small ambition to make it out of this country one day and work at a job she doesn’t hate and mix it with a group of kids that have no dreams past their latest bottle of whiskey and an end is inevitable. I finished my high school career and the moment my diploma was in my hand I took one mental step out of that town. Then, once that final summer was over I took my first physical step. I crossed the bridge and once again a chance of reinvention was presented to me. I could go somewhere else in the world where nobody knew me. They didn’t remember me by nasty play ground jokes that never really went away, they didn’t remember me as the girl of “that group” they had no memories of me but the ones I could create. I made new friends that once again I thought would last forever, but freshmen year friends that last forever are a rare and loyal breed. The reality is that only one truly lasted past that first marker year, the one who knew me best. The girl who stayed up late with me while I poured my heart and soul out about my entire life. She was with me when the lights went down on the stand up routine that I call life and she never once made me feel like I was the jaded, messed up person I always felt, feel, like I am.

She’s the perfect example of the people I have met on my journey through my college career. The great thing about ivory towers is that you get to pick and choose the people you allow to enter your gates. You don’t have to deal with people simply because you’re stuck in the same small town school they are. Granted in this place not dealing with people often times means turning a blind eye, this is a small school with towers placed very closely together. So ,you weed through the bad people and hope that the plants you gather are flowers. You press them in books and you promise yourself forever because you feel like forever is the greatest possibility in the world. I’ve spent so much time in my Ivory Tower in the Upper Peninsula, I’ve stumbled and fallen and learned to take my time because the journey has been everything and the destination feels like too much.

Which brings me to now, that latest and greatest chance for reinvention. No longer do I need dwell on the fears of making a complete fool of myself and being forced to pass by towers with people inside laughing, always laughing – at me. This time next year I will be a memory. A student in the photos from the games, the only moments I ever felt it was OK to put my heart and soul into something because being denied victory, no matter how much you love the team is never as painful as being denied as a human being. I will be a lingering force of laughter and love in the hearts I have touched in the years I have studied here. I will be immortal in the only way possible for humans, in the hearts of the people who remember me. In my final reinvention of the soul in my academic career I have promised myself to stop muting the lights, grabbing the mike, and making them laugh all the time. For once in my life I want to be something more than the girl who can create laughter in a split second with a snarky choice of words and a well placed self put down. I want to be remembered as the girl who truly loves. The girl with a soul red with passion much like the hair that frames her face. The memory of the friend, fan, and fellow student who made you feel appreciated, loved, and respected. The people that I have locked deeply within my heart are the most lovable, admirable, and respectable beings I have ever had the honor of knowing. That is what gives me hope, for if I can be surrounded by people that I can love, admire, and respect it must then mean there is something inside me worthy of the great human trinity. A three part mix of the greatest things another human being can give you.

So, maybe then, this isn’t a reinvention, it’s a new release of the same show I’ve always done, with more behind the scenes footage on what drives the comic. A raw un cut bonus selection riddled with human flaws of a lack of self esteem and a need to be loved, admired, and respected. A truth I will attest to until my dying day, the humor is a shield, but the look in my eyes when I stand before you and speak will always be the truth. The slight increase of fluids in my eyes, the quiver  of my lip, the redness of my cheeks, and the catch in my voice will reveal what I’m really trying to say. My message that you move me to feel and to be, because you are human beings that matter to me. You are the stars in the winter sky that twinkle with promise even on the coldest of nights. The stars I wish upon when I make my promise to make this final year the best year I have ever had in my life. The whisper that I will “be myself and either be loved or left behind.” Because I’m starting to learn that no matter what I look like, what I say, or what I do, there is going to be a group of people dead set on hurting me. However, more importantly no matter what I look like, what I say, or what I do, there is always going to a group of people dead set on loving me. Laker Loving me, because with Laker Love, the more you give, the more you get. 

Lest we forget.

The tumult and the shouting dies—

The Captains and the Kings depart—

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

(Passage from “Recessional” by Rudyard Kipling)

There are moments in time that are slipping away from us. 

Moments in history that each generation becomes more and more disconnected with. My generation will someday face the time when moments and events of great purpose will be all but lost in history. I can assure you September 11^th will become a day remembered by only the few still alive to remember the day and others that learned about it through textbooks or personal family histories. There is no doubt in my mind that the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq will become chapters in books and the soldiers will become numbers an entire generation of veterans lost to time, their stories and sacrifices lost and only remembered on days when the History channel runs a special. Time does a horrid thing to world changing events and wars that transpire. It slowly pushes them farther back in the collective mind of the world. They become questions on tests we take in high school with answers we never fully commit to memory. They become movies and television shows that we somehow disconnect ourselves from while sitting in our safe plush seats. It breaks my heart to think that the events that my generation has lived through will soon be as forgotten as the stories of my parents and moreover the stories of my grandparents. 

                Many people have no idea what today is in History. You

may be sitting at your computer right now asking yourself what June 6^th has to do with anything. If you are still in close contact with your grandparents (i.e. living with them, in contact via cellphone) you could take a second and ask them. They’d probably know. It might even spark a conversation with them about your Grandfather or maybe Great Grandfather. A story about the years he served his country and the world during the Second World War.  Maybe, just maybe that Grandfather may have been a part of one of the most pivotal moments of WWII. If he was American, Canadian, or English he may have risked his life on this day in history battling the elements as well as the enemy for the right to survive a small period of 24 hours that occurred during a war that lasted six years.  Possibly he fell from the sky as member of the Airborne troops, or maybe he struggled to fight the wind and the waves as he swam onto the shore with countless other men.  Your old Grandfather was lucky, he wasn’t one of the approximate 10,000 war casualties (killed, wounded, or MIA) of this day of which the total killed is estimated at 2,500. Now, stop for a second and think about those numbers. In a world where the number “trillion” is thrown around so freely we’ve become numb to numbers. Those numbers may have passed over you without a second of emotion. You forgot that the numbers 10,000 and 2,500 represent soldiers, men, each one human being added together to get numbers in the thousands. Those aren’t just facts and figures, they are lives on paper and those numbers only represent Allied forces. Let us not forget the members of Hitler’s army, some of which were Russian, French, or Polish prisoners turned into soldiers by the commands of what history has deemed a lunatic but the current times had hailed a savior of a country. The numbers of those casualties are greatly debated but range from around 4,000 to 9,000. 

                  In the early moments of this day in history the war was

completely changed and by result the history of the world was changed. Had the members of the airborne troops not fell from the sky and the other members of allied invasion not fought the sea to land on sand being showered with death from above the entire history of the world could be different. June 6^th was the day it had to happen. Countless elements had to fall into place on one single day for the event to happen. A late rising full moon to light the way for the airborne troops as they silently moved across countryside’s of France, calm weather, and shortly after dawn a low tide for the troops to enter the way through. June 6^th did not meet all these requirements, stormy seas left men aboard ships so sick they could not function and shotty moonlight that left men straining to see in front of them. However, despite the less than perfect conditions Eisenhower knew it had to happen. “I don’t like it, but there it is….I don’t see how we could do anything else.” Thus, this day in June 68 years ago became the day the Allied forces faced a “great and noble undertaking.” On the beaches Sword, Juno, and Gold Allied troops from England and Canada arrived whilst on the beaches of Omaha and Utah Allied troops from the US landed. They had arrived on the beaches of Normandy, they had invaded the land occupied by Axis troops, they had entered the war. 

               Two years short of seven decades ago the war changed 

and less a year later the war ended. Today is many things, but first and foremost today is the 68^th anniversary of D-Day. A day that many have forgotten and few members of my generation know anything about. Only recently did my true understanding and appreciate for this day in history bloom and I’ve made a commitment to remind members of my generation and those to come about the importance of this day. D-Day is not a chapter in history books, a television special, or fine print on a calendar. D-Day is a day to be remembered in our hearts and souls, a day to remember the soldiers that came and went before our time, and that fought when the world needed them most. The “Free men of the world (that marched) together to Victory!” For there is nothing we can do for them now but remember and honor. Lest we forget.

Links:

Further reading online:

The U.S. Army Remembers D-Day

National D-Day Memorial 

For a better understanding, appreciation, and "life changing read":

The Longest Day

A personal look at D-Day featuring US Army vets

Letters from the Front

Handle

(This started off as word vomit and turned into a bit of a poetry moment. If you want to listen along as I read it out loud click the play button on the player below. IT STARTS LOUD so don't get blown away. Also, I apologize for the sound quality, the mic on my computer isn't the greatest.)





You’re like a sickness. The winter cold that I just can’t shake. A lot like a tickle in the back of my throat that keeps me awake at night coughing. Tossing and turning praying for rest, but too miserable to grasp the peaceful serenity of sleep. Or, maybe that burning itch in my eyes that comes from staring at something too long. That odd pain that I can’t quite explain as I try to blink away the tears that welled up in my eyes. Suspended in a moment while my eyes desperately try to focus on something as my head spins from imbalance. You’re the sound of my alarm clock in the morning.  A brazen reminder that I am alive to live another day, but that for the time being I’ve lost the peace that comes from being unaware. You’re an endless goodbye. The scratchy throat, red in the face, how am I going to make it through this emotion type of goodbye. The kind that leaves me restless for days. You’re like a night of binge drinking. Just like that girl wrote that poem said. You’re an endless memory of good times and rash decisions followed by the conversation in front of my bathroom mirror. Why did I do this to myself? Why did I tell myself I could handle just one more? You’re the cigarette in my hand that everybody says will someday destroy me. I inhale you anyways to curb the nagging need, but I fear I’ll never be able to put you down. You’re the rush of fear and adrenaline the moment before my face hits the ground. An unsettling preparation for the worst possible outcome that leaves me drained even if I don’t bruise. But, I always bruise. Dark purple and blue. Blue, just like your eyes, but not blue like the color of my soul. Not the blue that means happiness, dedication, belief, and love to me. But blue like lips in the dead of winter after they’ve kissed away warmth of life. You’re every little pain in life that I’ve learned to survive. You’re the moments that remind me that I’m really alive. You’re nothing I can’t handle.


I could be your final moments of the game. That feeling that rushes through your veins and tells you it’s do or die. That last shot suspended in motion while the world stops turning and your heart keeps beating. I could be a summer day. That force of nature that calls you out into the world and makes you realize the grass isn’t greener on the other side it’s a beautiful verdant field right underneath your feet. I could be the waves that lap against the boat. A comforting feeling of connection to something greater, but a challenge to withstand on a rough day. I could be your favorite movie. The one you know inside and out but never pass up the chance to see again. A story line that never grows old and that you compare everything else like it too. Or even better, I could be your favorite band. That one band that means more than all of the rest. The one that has the songs that always seem to fit your life and the album you turn to as a sense of identity. I could be your memory. The one that always makes you smile and fills your heart with the warm sensation of a genuine life experience. The one you remember on the days where life takes too much from you. I could be your home. The place where you lay your head. The safe haven you return to when life hands you the pains you remind me of. A cure for you winter cough. The soothing sensation that comes from resting tired eyes. Waking up to the sound of nothing with sunshine on your face. That lasting Hello that never leads to a goodbye. A tall glass of ice water sliding through your body after the alcohol has left you dry. That feeling in your lungs when all you breathe is fresh air. The feeling of victory when you catch something right before it hits the ground. The one to ice your bruises when life knocks you down. I could be a reminder that you are alive. I’m the one you can’t handle. 

I can be pessimistic too.

Every once in a while I stumble across some quote on the internet that goes a little something like this:

Was your first thought is to agree with this? Maybe that person you feel emotionally invested in popped in your head and your heart. Did you feel butterflies or terror? Because, I’ve learned there is a fine line between the two. A very, very long time ago I took that chance. I sat in my car and I poured my heart out to the person that I loved. Long before I was a comm. major I still had the talents to present a good argument. I listed the reasons why I loved him and then I listed the reasons why he should love me. Then, finally I took all the excuses he could give me for why we should not be together and refuted them. But, there was one argument from him I never totally expected. I never really thought that the boy I had loved so much and had given everything to would turn me down simply because I’m what the world likes to call a fat girl. Little did I know that the emotions that I felt in the moments driving away from him would last for so long. There are still days when those emotions leak into my blood stream and like liquor in your system from a night of binge drinking, bring bile to the back of my throat and regret into my mind. So many boys have entered my life since that moment in the driveway. A few of them have stolen my heart and ran away with it but I’ve never once told another one how I felt. I’ve spent countless nights wondering how my life would be if I could just walk up to the person I feel so strongly about and say something like “I really dig you and I think we could be great together, you wanna maybe give it a shot and see what happens?” But, I won’t ever do it again. You see the trick to being a girl that wears her heart on her sleeve is to keep it slightly tucked in under the cuff. That way everyone can see it but nobody has easy access to it. There is no doubt in my mind that my fear of being shattered again has led me to miss out on life in more than one occasion but fear is the world’s most powerful motivator, or “demotivator” rather. It’s not really love that rules the world and don’t you dare let Hallmark tell you otherwise. There is safety in keeping your heart to yourself but joy in sharing it with someone else, but don’t ever let yourself blindly walk into a conversation where your heart is involved. Hindsight is 20-20 and my hindsight has taught me that the minute my heart becomes emotionally invested in someone else I can do one of two things, I can open my heart up and tell them and suffer the consequence, or I can keep quiet and live off of song lyrics, tea, and hopeless daydreaming. Because, here’s the real secret, people will let you down, but your daydreams, they never will. 

The best of 2011

Every year as we creep closer to the Holidays I focus my lens of thought beyond Christmas and onto the start of the new year. While everyone else in the world is busy having dreams of a wonderful Christmas, I’m reflecting on the year that is about to conclude. I like to compare and contrast my life and take a second remember where I was a year ago and where I want to be a year from now. It’s funny how New Years is such a clear time marker in my life. There are other important days of the year that I could stop to think about then and now, but it’s always New Years. There are never deep philosophical thoughts surrounding any other day in the year, it’s just this time of the year that does it to me. It’s a combination of the leftover thought processes of Thanksgiving and what I am “thankful for” and the sentimentality that is Christmas time. So in honor of this time of the year and my focused lens on New Years I present you with the best changes in my life that occurred in 2011.


1. My apartment. I know, not a very “deep” way to start the list, but let me explain. This time last year I was living in the worst apartment possible. It was tiny, dirty, and in a sketchy area. I hated being at home. I hated trying to study with the sounds of red neck drug addict neighbors seeping through the walls. I hated waking up in that place. I hated it. Thank goodness, this summer I was presented with the opportunity to move into a better place. It’s close to campus, it’s close to downtown, and it’s perfect for me. The previous tenants were my very good friend Rachele and her husband Matt so the transition into the apartment was smooth and painless (thanks to help from a certain minion and mini minion). From the day I moved in, until right now, this apartment has become one of my favorite places to be in the world. It’s small and simple and perfect for me. It’s the first apartment I always wanted. I feel happy here and the entrance being surrounded by Cedar trees makes me feel secure. I have no idea how long my life will be in this apartment, but I’m loving the seconds I spend here. The change of apartments was definitely one of the best things that occurred this year and helped shape events that followed the move.

2. When this year started I felt really lonely. I was about to lose a lot of classmates when graduation was said and done last year. However, a lot of those “classmates” meant more to me than I can ever explain. They were the last of the people that I had met my first year here, my last connection to that experience of being a freshmen at college for the first time. So, with those people gone from my day to day life I wasn’t sure how this year was going to go. I wasn’t sure that I would ever feel as connected to this place as I did before all those people left. I knew I had some amazing friends to come back to (I’ll get to that later), but I just couldn’t imagine my life as a Laker without those people. But, one of the biggest elements of college is that cycle of meeting people, sharing experiences, and then saying goodbye. That’s how you filter out the real friends, if you still have a connection with them after the inevitable goodbye. Some of the people I said “goodbye” to are still in my life. We still talk and catch up and I still store a little piece of them in the middle of my heart. But distance is the most evil thing in the world when you love and miss someone and it’s the distance that makes you lonely. But, I’m not lonely. I met new people. I made new connections. Some connections stronger than I had with the people I lost. This year my classes presented me with new faces, new personalities, and new possibilities for connections. Usually I avoid using names in these things, but Brian, you are one of those people my classes allowed me to meet and I thank the universe for that. Your personality is the perfect compliment to mine and all the laughter we’ve shared has made this semester bearable in times I thought I’d sink. You’re like a brother to me and you know how important “brothers” are to me. That same class also presented me with another person that was a safety net for me. Dillon, my little Babyface. Sometimes you pissed me off so much I wanted to punch you and other time just making eye contact with you helped me function. There were those moments where things got too heavy for me and I was on the brink of madness, but that’s when you’d catch my eye and bring me back down to Earth. You have the innate ability to ground me to Earth when I’m two steps away from blasting off. Thanks for keeping me here on my home planet. You have a beautiful heart. And, finally, to the two girls I knew before this year, but never knew meant so much to me until now. In alphabetical order, Allie and Billie. Allie, you’ve also been a life saver, and a pillar to lean on in moments of weakness. I feel like I know you better now than I ever have and I am so happy about that. Not only are you funny, smart, and gorgeous, you’re a beautiful soul. Billie, oh Billie, I’ve had so many classes with you, and worked in so many com groups with you, but the other day walking out of class I was struck with this heavy sadness knowing my class time with you has ended after this semester. You’ve been such a bright spot in all my classes, you’re so adorably funny, amazingly smart, and just so freaking beautiful. It’s been a pleasure being a com major with you.

3. The minions. Yeah, you guys, I know you’re reading this. You’ve been one of the best changes in my life, not just this year. It was sometime in late 2010 that I finally turned around and we haven’t looked back since. You guys have been two of the best friends I have ever made. We’ve shared so many experiences together and the ones we didn’t actually experience with each other we’ve shared so openly it feels as if we were there when it happened. I love you guys so much that love doesn’t even seem like a strong enough word to use here. Sometimes you drive me crazy, sometimes I want to run you over with my car, and sometimes you make me so happy my face hurts from smiling. Our friendship is real. It’s not perfect and there are some things we will never agree on. But what we can agree on is that we love laker hockey and we laker love each other.

4. If I look back to early 2011 there is one change that stands out amongst the blur that was my life between Christmas break and the end of Spring semester was. Ok, maybe it wasn’t a change per say, but it was an experience and a connection that means the world to me. I’m talking about my connection with Chewy and his family. I got to watch Chewy play for my lakers for four years but then I had to say goodbye. I had to be here and be a fan without him on the ice and that scared the hell out of me. Then, you top the loss of him from the ice with the loss of his family from the stands and I felt lost. I was blessed in 2011 to form and solidify such an amazing connection to #23 and his family. I didn’t just look forward to seeing Chewy on the ice, I looked forward to seeing his Mom and girlfriend in the lobby. Chewy’s Mom is the best connection I’ve ever made through this hockey team. She was always so kind and so full of love and her spirit was something I cherished having in my life. Graduation took these people from my “weekend to weekend” life but they didn’t leave. I still hear from my old Captain every once in a while and it means the world to me and though I don’t talk to Sue much, I hope she knows I think of her every weekend and she’s always at the games, because I carry her and her family with me in my heart.

5. Finally, the best change in 2011. The boys. Not, not my nephews, the other ones. My Laker boys. This team is on fire this year. This has been the best year at the Taffy I have ever had. The end of last year’s season in early 2011 was a blast, first round playoff victory over the Buckeyes is my favorite hockey memory ever, and I once met Sean Avery at a hockey game. Of course, it all ended second round against Notre Dame and then I had to say goodbye to 7 guys I’ve loved watching for 4 years. But we all moved on and in October this season started, and all of a sudden things started falling into place. The boys started playing the hockey I knew they could play, they were being the players I believed they could be, and the freshmen class came in with the right drive and talent. We’ve beat teams no one (but me) ever thought we would and we’ve shown the CCHA what Laker Hockey is all about. There have at times been moments of weakness, a rough defeat, but the boys have always bounced back. I am so very proud of this team and everything they are doing. I am so very happy to be a fan of this team and be able to experience what this year has been for my boys and my school. If they continue to play the way they have been this season, continue to be the team I always believed they could, then there is nothing stopping them from heading to Detroit and taking home the last CCHA championship ever.



I’m sure there are a million more amazing things that have happened to me this year. I know I’ve experienced countless changes because that’s what life is for a 20 something girl, a series of changes leading into a sense of permanence. However, these changes, these people, they’re the ones that stood out. The safety of my apartment, the new friends that have changed my life for the better, and the experience that was Rick Schofield and his family. I’m sure all the changes that occurred in 2011 that I’ve loved so much will continue shift and mold in 2012. So here’s to the past and the moments that last and here’s to the future and the experiences I endure. I Laker Love you all. 

My (10) Greatest Bands/Artists

I, like many American’s suffer from an addiction, an addiction to Vh1’s (100) greatest… shows. This past weekend I got sucked into the 100 greatest artists. While watching the show I did what any normal viewer would do. When I wasn’t screaming at the screen in outrage of the ranking I was yelling out “Oh my GOD I LOVE THEM!” So during the hour long drive between my parents house and my apartment in the Soo, I compiled a list of my top 10. However, I realized that one can’t just state a list. No, the best part of these shows is when people talk about how amazing the artists are and play little clips from their popular songs. So, here for you is my list, my reasoning, and my favorite song by that artist. I would be thrilled to see your list. Send it my way and we’ll talk.

Drum roll please!

Honorable Mention: 11-20
11. Bob Marley
12. Pink Floyd
13. Dr. Dre
14. Stevie Nicks
15. Ozzy Osbourne
16. Aretha Franklin
17. Joni Mitchell
18. The Doors (Jim Morrison)
19. Queen
20. The Beach Boys

Bigger drum roll please!


Countdown Style 10-1.

10. Pink
Now, wait. I know what you’re thinking. Pink? Really? My answer is YES. Here’s the deal. The people that question me don’t know Pink. They don’t know she’s got one hell of a back story. A tale of survival despite hardship, she’s truly inspiring on that front. Then, there’s the career. Every single album she has dropped has been different. She started off R&B, went off into the “Pop-Punk,” world, veered off into Rock, and along the way has peppered it with beautiful singer/song writer gems. She’s been around for over a decade and is a world wide sensation. But, beyond allllll that stuff. There is her voice. When you hear Pink you know it’s Pink. That roughly polished sound that few singers can ever get away with. Her voice can pump you up or bring you down. Her music can get your ready for a party or help you recover from a break up. I love Pink because of everything she is, does, and stands for. (And she’s super hot too!)



The Song: Sober. Oh, my. Just so much love for this song. I think it’s safe to say most girls will have had a moment over this song. God knows I have. That what Pink does, she hits that emotion button and you get forced to ride through the wave of emotions until the song is over.

9.Eminem
Word. No, seriously. Eminem is the word, a truth in his own right. A white boy from Michigan that changed the face of rap music, he threw rap music onto the top 40 charts, spoke his mind the whole way, and came out of it all sober. Woah, just woah! Now, I used to have some serious issues with Em and some of his lyrical expressions. But here’s the deal. It’s the right to free speech and his whole act with Elton John kinda took the movement out of the whole Eminem is anti gay thing. He woke up a generation. My generation and exposed us to truth and reality and the nature of the human beast. He’s become a positive role model in the end through his path to sobriety and is a home state hero in a lot of ways. He changed up the whole music scene and I’ve got mad respect for anyone with the balls to change an industry and to stay real the whole way through.


This Eminem song needs no justification. Everybody loves it and if they don’t they clearly aren’t getting the proper blood supply to their brain.


8. Hanson
I know. Totally random, from Pink, to Eminem, to Hanson. That’s just how I do. So anybody that’s ever met me knows I have a deep seeded love for Hanson. It all starts back in 97’ … yeah that’s right 90 freaking 7. It started with a song called “Mmbop,” but it goes on so much further than that. There’s been 5 albums. That’s the major release albums, not counting the live albums, the Christmas album, and the overseas releases. There three brothers who caught a break riding the wave of pop music in the 90’s with a catchy hook and famous hair. But, when “Mmbop” died down what was left? The fans, that’s what was left, and three brothers who love making music. So the Hanson train kept on rolling. Their music and their fans grew up with them and their records tell a story of music. Their music tells the story of my life. Anyone that judges the validity of Hanson’s music has never scratched the surface and looked into what they’ve been doing musically. They’ve grown. They took off for Africa and made a whole album about political and social issues. They started an international campaign called “The Walk,” and continue to put on sold out shows globally. Hanson is one of the few 90’s pop bands to have survived the decade, continue selling records, and maintain fans. You can laugh all you want but they have a legitimate stake in the world of music, open your ears and explore.



“Been There Before.” It’s like Hanson’s answer to “Give me the beat boys…” It’s one of those songs about music that actually works. It came out on their “The Walk,” album and filled my heart and soul with the roots of my musical experience. Hanson’s always “been there” for me and I feel sorry for the people that haven’t been on a musical ride with Hanson.

7. Neil Young
First of all, a big shout out and thank you goes to Canada for supplying the world with this talent. Neil Young is one of those muscians that seems to have been around forever. You see, he surfaces in 66 with Buffalo Springfield, goes on to become the Young in Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, and then somewhere in that same time period he launches a solo career. Only a talent like Neil Young could bounce around the music industry like that and not fall flat on his face. No, that’s something Neil’s never done in his multi decade spanning career, he’s never failed to impress music lovers. His music has that politically driven edge that came out of the 1960’s coupled with his sheer poetic genius every song is a piece of art. He was relevant in the 60’s and 70’s and is still relevant today. He’s timeless.


Picking a Neil Young song, yeah like that was an easy task. So, I went with my all time favorite. The song I have bawled my eyes out to more times than I can count. It’s a bitter sweet sentiment from child to father. It was my Dad’s song to my Grandfather and it’s always been my song to my Dad.

6. John Fogerty
Now, for all you kids out there scratching your head wondering just who the hell John Fogerty is... I say FOR SHAME! But, for the sake of education, for those of you who don’t know John Fogerty is the voice by which you identify the music of Creedence Clearwater Revival (CCR). He’s also top selling solo recording artist as well. But, most know him best for his years in CCR, you know, the years before they sucked. His voice made that band. I mean sure, the lyrics, the melody, the freaking music was amazing, but it was all centered around that voice. That identifiable voice. Oh, and he pretty much wrote entire albums worth of music. You know those songs like: Proud Mary, Down on the Corner, Run Through the Jungle, and Have You Ever Seen the Rain. Yeah, that’s all John Fogerty. Those are timeless songs. Songs with a message that span the test of time. Kids my age and younger still get down to CCR and I firmly believe that’s all because of the genius that is John Fogerty.


Listen to the lyrics. This song came out in 69 and the words are still relevant in this country today. Music like this doesn’t just happen.

5. Jimi Hendrix
Do I even need to justify this one? Every once in a while a musician comes around that just changes everything. (The messed up thing is a lot of the musicians decided to show up in the 60’s and disappear before the 80’s) Hendrix was one of those musicians. When music fans talk about Hendrix they don’t talk about his lyrics, or his looks, or whatever, no, we talk about the guitar. Because that’s what Hendrix was, guitar. Dirty, sexy, raunchy, fluid, breath taking, fucking guitar. He did things with that instrument that no one had ever seen done before. He could make a guitar sing in a way no voice ever could (even though his voice is like candy to the ears). That’s the thing about Hendrix, if you really know his music it’s this weird fusion of rock, blues, jazz, soul, and the vibe of the 60’s. He wasn’t just guitar. He was everything. As far as I’m concerned he was the start of the panty dropper music, because if a chick isn’t dropping her panties when she hears some Hendrix, she’s just not worth it.


Have a little respect. Turn your volume up. Here’s my favorite Hendrix’s song…have you taken off your panties yet?


4. Janis Joplin
I was 15 when I discovered Janis Joplin. I don’t think I knew what soul was before I heard her sing. Oh Janis, Janis, Janis. First of all, talk about a woman with a life time of pain. It’s like she was born with the blues and heartache just followed her around. Janis knows pain and Janis will sing you through your pain. She’ll take that deep breath and start singing and the music will come from the depths of her soul out into the microphone and then it will creep into your ears and wrap it’s self around your organs. She is a part of that group of artist that gave the world so much in a small time. That group of artists that had it’s fill of the world long before the world had it’s fill of them. Oh Janis, Janis, Janis. Sing for me Janis. Sing for me.


Yeah, that’s live. As in for freaking real. That’s all I have to say about that.



3.Bob Dylan
I know that at this point you’re thinking. Wow, you have almost no love for music that began after 1975…and that’s pretty much true. Anyways, Bob Dylan, right. I never know whether to call him a musician or a poet…or both. He’s all those things and so much more. In many way’s he’s the anti star, the one who never wanted to be a legend. The asshole who pretty much broke Joni Mitchell’s heart. He’s Dylan. One of those artist that loses his first name because he’s become so legendary. He’s got his hits, the songs everybody knows, and then he has his hidden treasures. The ones that didn’t make it onto the radio, the songs only the fans know, and they’re all brilliant. You see, Dylan’s another one of those “voices.” I often wonder if he had emerged at anytime other than the 60’s if he would have been given the time of day. Maybe, in a quiet folk following, not the musical/poetic genius that he is recognized as today. He’s got a way with words and instrumental talent that just melds together and makes magic. If he’s not in the top 5 of any greatest artists list then the people making it have no clue what the hell they are talking about.

This is my favorite Dylan song. I’ve loved it since I was a kid, mostly because there is a line that mentions the girl having red hair. I’ve got an unlimited list of songs I love for Dylan, just like I do for every artist on this list. But, this one’s my fave.


2. John Lennon
I went back and forth on this one. Do I say “The Beatles,” or do I say John Lennon. Here’s the truth. If I messed up on this list it was not putting both Lennon and the Beatles in the top 10 list. Because they both deserve to be in the top 10 but this is my personal list and my love for John Lennon over shadows my love for The Beatles.  The Beatles were/are everything. But John Lennon was something more than everything, he was something. He had a message, a vision, and a voice. He gave the world music. Music it had never seen before. He gave the world his thoughts, thoughts no one else had the courage to say out loud when they most needed to be said. As an artist on my list Lennon made top 2 because of everything he was. He wasn’t just a musician. He was a force of nature. Someone I feel genuinely robbed of ever experiencing. I can’t imagine music today without The Beatles, and I can’t imagine The Beatles without John.


If being an egomaniac means I believe in what I do and in my art or music, then in that respect you can call me that... I believe in what I do, and I'll say it.
-John Lennon



1.Paul Simon
There is a part of me that feels really, really, bad for the kid reading this that has no idea who Paul Simon is. For every kid like me who grew up on his music is a kid that lives the cold, deprived life, that is a lacking in Paul Simon. With Paul Simon it all began as a duo. He and his pal Art Garfunkel started off playing as “Tom and Jerry,” but eventually decided to keep it real and go as “Simon and Garfunkel” instead. But, no matter what the name, the driving musical force of this group was Paul Simon. The genius in Paul Simon can’t be pigeon holed like it can with some bands/artists. No, the genius of Paul Simon isn’t just lyrical, melodically, or visual. No, Paul Simon is all of those things all wrapped up in one sweet little package. He’s one of those emerging talents from the 60’s (are you beginning to see the trend?!) that provides us with music that is packaged perfectly with music and lyrics. His early work gives us works of art like “The Boxer,” or “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” songs not only rich in lyrics but in melody. Music that is so complete. His solo work is groundbreaking, legendary, stuff that only Paul Simon would ever be able to do. I keep saying genius over and over again because that is the only word I can come up with to even begin to describe Paul Simon. His career took off in 1965 and he just recently released an album in 2011. That’s a 46 year long career, with a tour ongoing. Artist like him aren’t just musicians. They’re prophets of the church of music. Amen brother, Amen.



Early Simon. Back when he was half of a duo. (The Better half)


Paul Simon solo…and doesn’t he just have the world’s sweetest speaking voice?

Behind the Glass: Laker Hockey

My position at the glass hasn’t changed much in four years. I’ve moved forward and closer but I’ve never once backed away. I’ve seen them all come and go; the players, the fans, the hopes, and the dreams.

 Every single second is an experience that can never be taken back. The memories I have standing behind the glass are some of the best ones I have made here at Lake State. All of the laughter and the excitement has seeped into my life and made it better. Many of my fellow students standing there supporting this team have become pillars in my life. People I feel like are there to cheer me on in my game of life. My Lake State family.

The players have become inspiration. The few chosen ones that I’ve been lucky enough to know beyond the number are the type of people that make your life richer. Richer because you’ve been able to meet people like them and their beautiful families. The boys that are a gift to the sport of hockey not just because of their talent but because of their dedication. Some of them destined to become household names, others just blessed with the Lake State Legacy they leave behind. But, each of them so talented, strong, and easy to believe in.

Every year I’ve had to say a goodbye. You get four years at best with most people, others even less, depending on your connection in the timeline of college. There’s the kid in the stands you can’t imagine being there without. There’s the player on the ice that you’ve watched every game and you can’t imagine the team without. There’s always that senior night that you cry over the lost opportunity of creating more memories. The night that’s full of bitter sweet tears overflowing with memories of victory, defeat, and every second in between. We all ride along for one last skate around the rink, one last step down from the stands, and one last song to say it all.

However, for some of us, it’s never over. We wait not so patiently for the start of the new season. We check rosters and learn new names. Sometimes we take a minute to miss the names missing, the ones moved on, but then we move on. We go to the games and we cheer for these new freshmen and are thrilled when they prove their skill and their worth of that oh so strong anchor. We create new memories like, “Do you remember the night Jean got that hat trick?!” and  “How packed was that place when we played MSU?!”

Every beginning to a new season is a chance. A chance for this team that we all love so much to go out on the ice and play the game we know they are capable of playing. It doesn’t matter the history of the team or the player, it’s a fresh start. We can revel in that moment that a player steps up and plays like pro. We can rejoice in the victory and create a new moment for Laker Hockey. I can turn around and see new faces behind the glass and just hope they stick around. We can glance at the score board and hold our breath together until the bell is rung.

My position at the glass hasn’t change in four years. However, this year, this new start feels different. The victories have been stronger, sweeter, and more frequent than I’ve ever seen. The players seem focused and the fans seemed inspired. However, I am so disappointed that things hadn’t gone this way last year. I loved that group of 7 players and would have loved to see them be a part of a season like this. But, as I said, they move on and so does the program. I’m not sure how this season will end but, I’m excited about every second. Hockey is truly a game of up and down, nothing is ever certain until the very end. But, I’ve stood there behind the glass and seen what this team can do. I’ve heard how loud the fans can be. I truly believe that this season will be one to remember…but then again, in my world they’ve all been season’s to remember.

Laker Love.

Communication and Locus of Control

I’ve never doubted the power of words. I was the fat girl growing up. I learned all too quickly the way other peoples words could affect me. I can just as easily be brought up with a compliment as I can be brought down by a fat joke. I run a fine line with communication. I love it, I study it, I live my life centered around it. But, because of that I put so much stock in communication with others that it can take over my life. I’m tainted. Every interaction I have with other people is over analyzed in my brain. Every second I spend with another person engaged in a conversation I am focused on what they are saying to me, what they are doing with their body as they say these things, what I think they are trying to say, and how I am going to respond to all of this when it’s my turn to talk. It makes for great conversation and great interactions but, it can be exhausting. The mental weight that every conversation I have creates this sense of anxiety that feels like the weight of the world. This gets even worse when the communication goes beyond the friendly level. When feelings, emotions, hopes, dreams, and lust all get into the conversation it gets even more complicated for me. You see, I have what shrinks like to call “an external locus of control.” Basically it means that everything that happens outside of myself directly effects the way I see myself. If I am in a room where people hate me then I see myself as a person worth of their hate. So that starts to spin out of control in those tricky conversations where the fate of my heart and self worth are all tied up in how this boy speaks to me and treats me. Its not often I feel very good about myself. It’s a direct product of being the fat girl, the ginger, the loud one, the weird one. I’ve developed this locus of control outside of myself that has over the years began to pick away at my skin like a tag in the collar of your shirt. I give off this air of confidence. I’ve developed a damn good mask over the years that I have been able to hide behind. My false air of control and confidence allows people to be more open around me but it also allows them to walk all over me the minute my confidence falters. I’ve been so frustrated with my interactions lately because it’s become so clear that I put my locus of control in the hands of the wrong people. I feel like I’m being used. I know I am being used. It’s a tricky feeling for a girl like me who depends so much on the acceptance and approval of other people to deal with the feeling of being used. On one hand I am happy to be used, happy to bend over backwards, because that makes me feel accepted. But on the other hand, I hate it, I hate being the girl that some boy can walk all over and play games with. I’ve developed a budding friendship with a boy because I was finally able to tell it to him straight and strike a balance between helping and being used. But once that situation settled down and I started to feel better about it, I walked into an identical situation. The only difference this time is that it’s a different boy and this boy I have a lot of complicated feeling about. It’s hard to not let the guy you like take advantage of your good nature. It’s impossible to say no to someone that you want to make happy, someone you want to spend time with. But what’s even more impossible is living with the feelings of guilt and anger that I have every time I walk away from him. I feel guilty because I am letting myself get played and angry at him for even treating me this way. But, if you look at my relationship history, it’s all the same, jerk guy taking control of me and using me, and then breaking my heart under the premise of my looks. So I wonder where to go from here? It’s hard to teach a old dog new tricks. Twenty three might not look that old to most, but I’m an old soul, and I’m tired of trying to change myself. I learned along time ago that my life was going to suck if I put all my sense of self worth in the way others see me. I also learned how hard it is to change something like that. You can change your hair color, lose weight, change your style, but you can’t change your basic mental state. So what I am to do? I don’t think there is an answer. You can’t tell me to stop letting him walk all over me because I can’t. You can’t tell me he’s not worth it and there is someone better out there because right now he is the be all end all to me and I know my life and my prospects and there isn’t much going on outside of him. I guess the only logical solution comes back to communication. I should tell him how I feel about him and about the situations he puts me in. But communication is hard and that “talk” is one that I’ve had more than once in my life and been burned, badly, every single time. But there is no solution that can be found without communication. So now it’s back to the textbooks, class notes, and personal experience because somewhere in my knowledge of this field is a way to approach the situation. Now, if only I could come up with the guts to even go there.