Category: friends

HAHahA

frog3Leave a comment

dede

Do you like the outdoors and having fun on the weekend? Well that is just to %$^#& bad. Carl Cooper, Headmaster of Ojai Valley School Upper Campus, recently turned what had been a swell hike with myself and several friends into an irrational annoying ordeal. The story is simple as all tragic tales are.

Saturday, mid afternoon, we hiked technically off” campus by following the riverbed that begins at the Barn. The hike was fun a simple excursion filled with such wonders as cool soothing water and delicious mini waterfalls. Alas upon our return whom was waiting there? Mr. Cooper.

So he appeared quite angry, with me in particular, he had “caught” me returning from a hike before, this “crime” was the second such indiscretion. Mr. Cooper for the second time told me no one was allowed to hike upon that river bottom without express permission from the property owner. Now looking back that is simply not true.

Mr. Cooper’s anger with me (and the people I was with) stemmed from the fact that we did not ask him if we could go on the hike. He had once even said that I could take people on hikes as long as I asked him. The reason of not having permission from said property owners makes no sense to my feeble, young, mind. I ask simply for what I consider a rational explanation.

Unison

indigoshellLeave a comment

You stay up late the night before, preparing a presentation for that class you hate.

Everyone has to present. Everyone was assigned one section of a rather specific topic, and was told that they would be presenting on that specific day.

So the day comes and all your classmates quietly meander in, as if reciting the material to themselves.

Then the teacher comes in and starts the class.

You exchange a glance to the classmate to your left. What about the presentation?

The person to your right catches your eye. Did I read the homework sheet wrong? Were we not supposed to present today?

Eyes wander the room and relieved grins are held. Everyone almost telepathically nods at each other, thinking in unison with each other, you say nothing, I say nothing, we will all say nothing.

And thus, the presentation deadline has been extended.

The Right Stars

indigoshellLeave a comment

Up on a large hill, or a small mountain (wars have been fought), you would expect the view to be utterly amazing.

And it is.

The mornings can surprise you; you may walk into a cloud of mist with the sun shining through powerfully and cloaking the campus in gold. Some days the sky is a magnifying glass to a sun, blinding white, and permanent sunglasses are needed by everyone.

Nighttime is difficult. The campus lightly shines in yellow, star-like lamps that scatter almost randomly across stairs or walkways, and often overpower the stars.

To stargaze on campus means you must search high and low for the best, unlit spots. There are two areas that I have concluded to be the best spots for the right stars.

The first spot is the lower field, or the big field, while we’re playing glow-in-the-dark capture the flag. I have found out that, if I just stop what I’m doing and lay down on my back, the rest of my team will follow. If you lie down on the right spot the campus lights will not hinder your eyesight, and the stars will shine to their full extent.

The second spot, an easier spot to reach, is the newly built staircase. At night when the sun has fully set and things are quiet, perhaps at 9pm or so, there is a particular step on the staircase that you can stand on and the trees around you will block out the campus lights. Then, if you look up, it looks like the stars are framed by the trees.

No I did not sneak out of the dorm at 9pm to watch the stars.

Green Tea Ice Cream

indigoshellLeave a comment

The following is a fictional story.

Our first kiss was on Christmas.

A few days after I had flown to China I went to dinner with some family friends. I had wine with them but I was definitely not drunk.

His phone had no reception, so he called me using his friend’s phone and asked me to go hang out with him.

We had ice cream together. I think we were both nervous about it because it was technically our first date, not to mention the fact that we were both going through jet lag.

Everything was so wintry and Christmassy around us, behind that real fancy mall, with the real whiny lights. That’s all I could remember, even though I had closed my eyes.

Yes, it was freezing on the street but we still had ice cream. Well, he did, but I was too full from dinner.

He had green tea ice cream, which is my favorite.

There weren’t many cabs around, so we stood around waiting for a while. Then, all of a sudden he kissed me.

It was the little one, the little kind of kiss, and I remember he had his eyes closed. He had glasses, so it was difficult to see, but I think he had his eyes closed.

It was just there, the taste of the ice cream on my lips, and I could feel it even though I didn’t see it.

I’m even jealous of myself of that kiss. He’s so tall that he had to bend down to kiss me, and his jacket was open, so it’s like I was literally surrounded by him. It was freezing on the street, and he was warm.

But his friend was there too, but he probably didn’t pay attention to us. And we didn’t feel he was there.

It was 9:30 at night. To me, it felt like my first kiss. I felt the green tea ice cream.

I was nervous and didn’t know how to react, so I just closed my eyes. I think I was thinking, “ahh, we finally kissed.” And all I knew was that he was there, bringing me warmth in this freezing winter.

And our kiss, ok, it was on the 29th.

Nicknames

Daphne PsaledakisLeave a comment

Pretty much everybody has a slew of embarrassing nicknames. If you don’t, your family is way too nice. Over the years, thanks to my wonderful dad and brothers, I have accumulated quite the collection of nicknames. All but one are pretty embarrassing, which made my brothers way too happy.

When we were younger, my brothers would insert my name into the song “Yankee Doodle.” And if that wasn’t bad enough, I also became Daffy Duck. When they first started with those nicknames, it would make me even angrier at them than I usually was. Since then, I have come to accept the fact that I just make them do it more by creating a fuss about it. So I’ve learned to embrace it — or at least pretend that I have.

The worst is when your family slips and tells your friends some of your nicknames, or worse, your evil teacher who then coins even more embarrassing nicknames. Thanks, Dad.

Those aren’t my only two nicknames, and I will admit that I probably have more than the average person. But I am definitely not the only one with a family who takes joy in embarrassing me, and I’m not the only one with a nickname. I would think everyone knows what I’m talking about.

The Simple Habits

indigoshellLeave a comment

Throughout life you pick up simple habits. Sometimes they last forever, sometimes they last only for a duration of time when the situation has passed.

The way she pushes her bangs away from her face, though they’ve grown all the way out and tied up into a neat, workplace bun.

The way he hits the switch on the wall, though his younger sister is no longer afraid of the dark.

Habits can form for no reason whatsoever, yet they can be all the reason you change.

The way he sneaks out of the house at night, though he no longer lives with his parents.

The way she shuts her door all the way, though she knows nobody is home.

They aren’t really habits though, in a sense, it’s a part of their life now.

The way she clutches at her bag in the Paris subway, though there’s nobody around to rob her.

The way he checks for his lighter, wallet, then keys, in that order, though he has quit smoking three months ago.

When you loose a habit, that chapter of your life has ended.

The way he no longer reaches for his crutch when standing up.

The way she no longer holds her hairband in her teeth when tying a high pony.

Then a new habit begins, without you even realizing it.

The way she keeps her hand over her pocket to feel for her phone vibrating.

The way he keeps his head low, watching the ground with great care.

War

indigoshellLeave a comment

The air was cold. The wind, a warning. As we unloaded the bus nervous jawing could be heard among the new recruits. “We are so gonna die.” Veterans could only hide their agreement with a snark grin. “You’ll be fine, it’ll only hurt for a little bit.”

The soldiers unconsciously split into herds, discussing amongst themselves their past experiences or worries. Our troop leader, donned in a large gray hoodie, talks to the general, who is gathering our gear.

Guns, masks, and bullet holders are lined up against a stall. “E’ery one grab a gun, grab a helmet, and grab a holder.” A young child, no doubt the offspring of the general, hurries about getting the gear for our new recruits.

“Make sure the safety is on, right here! Make sure you keep your barrel plug on! And when you’re on the field, do NOT take off your mask!”

Introductions pass by quickly as nervous energy rises. Recruits want to take their first breaths of the battlefield, veterans want to sink into familiarity.

“Split yourself up into two teams! Here.” I am handed a pink ribbon. Guess I’m joining their team. “Here, let me help you with that,” he continues, reaching back for the ribbon. “I can do it myself,” I almost scoff, turning away and carefully looping the bright ribbon onto my left arm.

To my dismay our leader was on the blank side, as well as many of the rookies. Bins of bright orange bullets are dropped onto our table and everyone rushes to fit as many as they can into their bullet holders, tied around the waist, and into their guns.

Weapons loaded, masks on, we are led to our first battlefield by another general. “Your objective here is to take the flag, set in the middle here, and bring it to the base of the opposite team.” Everyone nods in agreement. “Blanks, you’ll stay here. Ribbons, take a walk.”

Self-designated captain of our small group of seven quickly knits together a loose plan. “You two take the right side, you two on the left, two of you stay here and guard the base, and I’ll charge for the flag.”

The whistle blows, and I dive for the nearest hay bale. Shots are fired, and I already feel glass-like shells of bullets spraying my neck. Hay flies everywhere, and I’m already breathing heavy.

Without firing a shot, I weave between hay bales, watching the enemy and my comrades alike. Once I looked up – our leader was facing away from me! I shoot once, twice, thrice, curse these horrible guns and their horrible aiming, then I hit him on the head. He spins around, trying to catch a glimpse of his attacker. I turn, concealing myself behind the hay again. He raises his gun and walks out.

Up ahead I can see a good friend of mine, someone who roughhouses with me but is actually soft as a puppy, charging two young rookies desperately hiding behind their hay base. He stands square, pointing his gun. Although I can’t see his mouth, I can imagine him yelling “surrender! Surrender!”

I look away and leap for the next bale of hay – and almost collide with person. I see a flash of pink and assume he’s a ribbon, but upon closer inspection I realized he was actually a blank. He raised his gun at me and I feel a flash of fear rise within, causing me to draw my own gun up. We stare each other down for a moment before simultaneously lowering our guns. “Shoot each other already!” The general’s voice comes at us from somewhere above. We don’t, and simply ignore each other for whatever reason.

Bodies of three, four pile along the edges of the field. Though before I know it, the match is over. “Yeah!” Captain shouts, “we kicked a**!”

I finally got shot in the second round while stalking behind large electrical wiring wheels. The bullet hit me directly on the inner side of my right knee, a sensitive spot for a person with knee problems like me. I raise my gun and breath deeply to ease the pain as I quickly limp out. Gotta watch your left side, I remind myself, watch your left side.

Somewhere in round three I got shot three times in a row. I had ducked, but was not close enough to the poorly constructed building to hide my body. I was hit on my left elbow first, followed by the left side of my chest, followed by my left hip.

The pain didn’t come until I walked out of the battlefield. Breathing shallow, I put my hands on my knees to wait the pain out. “Don’t worry,” our captain says, patting my back with paint-stained hands, “it’s ok.”

The worst battle by far was the last. Ammo had run low, and our three rookiest rookies had decided to flee. The teams were now six to five, with odds in neither of our favors.

Our shields were large, colourful, and dripping with paint. They were inflatable and grew out of the ground, rounded at the edges, making it poor cover.

At the whistle I ducked and weaved, rounded orange bullets whizzing around me at alarming speeds. There’s our leader again, in his conspicuous gray hoodie! I kneel down and take a dozen shots, all of which go in a comical arc around his body. These freaking guns, I swear.

Pink team won again. Celebratory shots were fired, leftover ammo used up, and tired and injured troops saunter out of the battlefield. They talk amongst themselves as if the war never happened. How can they?
On my thigh is a perfect imprint of the accursed paintball, a full moon of purple bruising growing thick around it.

This is the pain of paintball.

Dots

Daphne PsaledakisLeave a comment

I’m not really one to get addicted to games like Candy Crush, or Hay Day. I’ll play a phone game every once in a while when I’m bored, or not doing anything. But lately I’ve been playing this game called Dots every chance I get.

Dots is a game which gives you a square filled with different colored dots. The object of the game is to connect as many dots to their like color as you can in 60 seconds. It’s incredible difficult. And incredibly addicting.

It lists the high scores of the week, and some people are in the 800’s. I’m still stuck in the 300’s. My friends and I compete against each other, reveling when we have the highest score, and desperately trying to catch up when someone steals first place. I haven’t been first place in a while, but it’s still fun.

I’m glad I’m addicted to Dots and not Candy Crush though. At least with Dots I can kinda claim it’s a mind-stimulating game. Candy Crush just seems pointless. I mean all you’re doing is moving around candy.

So for all of you looking for a new game to be addicted to, or at least try out, I recommend Dots. It’s pretty fun.

 

Death by Bucking Horse

indigoshellLeave a comment

There was this one horse. His name was Houdini, and he was solid, pure black. I had always wanted to ride Houdini but I was always told that my skill levels weren’t high enough, or that he was too “green.” When I got to riding Layla and a pony called Dixie my mind wandered away from Houdini.

When sophomore year came around, I had first seen Houdini during my freshman year, I saw much less of Houdini, but occasionally I would still see him around. I wasn’t sure where he went at all, but I slightly remember someone telling me that he was either out in pasture or being trained by someone else.

This year, my junior year, he’s back, and I continued to ask to ride him. For two months I got continuous no’s but with promises of “wait until we ride him for a week,” or, “once you’re able to keep your back straight.” I kinda gave up hope by the second month, really.

Winter sports started, and the current horse I was riding was needed by another rider. I remember walking into the barn and then being jumped upon by an instructor. “I have exciting news for you!” she said. For some reason I had literally no idea what she would have said. “We’re gonna put you on Houdini!”

Internally I was jumping up and down like a little girl who had finally gotten a pony for her birthday, but on the outside I just took a couple breaths and said “wwwwwoooooooowwww oh thank gods yes finally…”

Houdini was still extremely green and didn’t seem to understand how large he was. He would swing his head around and try to cuddle (I think) me but would end up knocking me into a wall or the gate. I learned how to move quickly and duck away within the first few days.

We believe that Houdini is part Friesian – Royal Friesian Horse, that is. They look like cousins of Gypsy Horses, and they’re a stunning breed. The way they walk, trot, and gallop is extremely upright and almost stiff, like every step they take is deliberate. In my mind I called them the “soldier horse” because they were so methodical with their steps.

Houdini could hardly walk in a straight line. Seriously, I’d try to keep him on the rail and he’d end up either running into it or turning away from it. He actually ran me into a jump pole once, but he’s learning, I think.

A skill that all riders must know is how to lunge a horse. The gist of it is basically to chase a horse around a little round pen while giving them instructions such as “trot” or “canter.” Houdini would trot and canter for a few circles, buck in my direction a few times, then stop completely and simply stare at me.

What I didn’t understand was what he didn’t understand. He followed my instructions perfectly, to walk, to trot, to canter, yet he would always stop a few minutes in and stand square in front of me, unmoving. Even when I tapped him with our bright, neon-orange whip he would stare at me like “what are you doing I did not sign up for this.”

Oh, and he bucks. Like, a lot. If I keep the reins a little too long at the trot he lowers his head and starts bucking. Or that’s the official term, what Houdini does is more like pronking. Usually done by antelopes, pronking is when they leap up into the air with an arched back and stiff legs.

Yeah, that’s what Houdini does. In an hour he pronks about 4 times and I have yet to fall off. There was one pronk, this one was more like a rodeo buck, where I crash-landed on the saddle and hit my knee on something hard. That was two days ago and I still have a massive yellow bruise.


(Mien gott look at that mane)

I call Houdini my Butternut Squash.

Squash because he likes to squash me against the walls of the stall.

Butter because his coat gleams like melted butter.

And nut because he’s the nuttiest horse I may ever ride.

My Princess

indigoshellLeave a comment

The first horse I rode in OVS was Urbino. He was an old horse, mainly brown, and very tall. I constantly struggled to put his bit on, as he would always lift his head up above the reach of my arms. I’m 5’2 now. I was probably 5’1 or 5’0 two years ago, so I asked to switch horses that would either work with me better or was a tad shorter.

I switched horses maybe one or two more times before settling for Layla. I believe she was at least part Gypsy, tall, sturdy, and one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. Her coat and mane was black and white while her tail was pure black. She was a massive horse, and had not been ridden a lot, so she was quite stubborn and didn’t quite like having the bit put in.

To my great dismay she would also lift her head up above arms reach, and for a while I got my taller friends to help me bit her. Being that short and weak was unbelievably frustrating.

Layla was a complete Princess, for she knew how tall and beautiful she was. The way she walked, the way she swayed when she lifted her feet up, made it seem like she was dancing down a catwalk.

Slowly she began to respect me, and after a while she seemed to understand that I was short and that I needed a little help when brushing her mane and putting her bit on. On the days where she felt good she would lower her head for me and on the days she seemed more stubborn she’d ignore me and let me struggle on my tiptoes.

She was pretty darn lazy, plodding along with her feet picked up high. A whip helped, but I had to teach her that she had to walk at a relatively quick pace and not hang her head. She learned quickly and was probably my smoothest ride ever.

I rode Layla for about a year and then moved on to different horses, but I visit her every day to brush out her mane and maybe give her a mint or a handful of grains. When I leave the barn I always look back, and she’ll always watch me leave with an inquisitive look on her face.

I always wonder what horses do all day, but maybe horses wonder what humans do all day too.