Passion

I got to go to my first Premier League game... Ever... Liverpool vs West Ham at Upton Park

Words cannot describe the emotions that go through these games... Passion.

The Agony when a goal is scored against your team... The Elation and Excitement of scoring a goal... The Loudness of unified chants... The ever changing emotion when a game swings one way to the other... The sound of Crunching tackles... The soft Touch of the ball... The strength and agility of players in the air... The Pure pace of the players and the Speed at which they think and play is unreal... This is the reason that football (the real one) is the best sport in the world... Passion.

The best way to describe the experience and the game is actually in the songs of the two respective teams. Liverpool went up 1-0 thanks to a brilliant Glen Johnson goal. Then West Ham went up 2-1 right before half time thanks to a PK and a Stevie G ownie only for Liverpool to come back and win 3-2 in the last 10 minutes of the game... 

"I'm forever blowing bubbles, pretty bubbles in the air. They fly so high, they reach the sky, and like my dreams they fade and die!"

"You'll Never Walk Alone." 

Passion.

Sometimes... you just have to let someone else say it

The piece below was written by Marina Keegan '12 for a special edition of the News distributed at the class of 2012's commencement exercises last week. Keegan died in a car accident on Saturday. She was 22.
We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that’s what I want in life. What I’m grateful and thankful to have found at Yale, and what I’m scared of losing when we wake up tomorrow and leave this place.
It’s not quite love and it’s not quite community; it’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team. When the check is paid and you stay at the table. When it’s four a.m. and no one goes to bed. That night with the guitar. That night we can’t remember. That time we did, we went, we saw, we laughed, we felt. The hats.
Yale is full of tiny circles we pull around ourselves. A cappella groups, sports teams, houses, societies, clubs. These tiny groups that make us feel loved and safe and part of something even on our loneliest nights when we stumble home to our computers — partner-less, tired, awake. We won’t have those next year. We won’t live on the same block as all our friends. We won’t have a bunch of group-texts.
This scares me. More than finding the right job or city or spouse – I’m scared of losing this web we’re in. This elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness. This feeling I feel right now.
But let us get one thing straight: the best years of our lives are not behind us. They’re part of us and they are set for repetition as we grow up and move to New York and away from New York and wish we did or didn’t live in New York. I plan on having parties when I’m 30. I plan on having fun when I’m old. Any notion of THE BEST years comes from clichéd “should haves...” “if I’d...” “wish I’d...”
Of course, there are things we wished we did: our readings, that boy across the hall. We’re our own hardest critics and it’s easy to let ourselves down. Sleeping too late. Procrastinating. Cutting corners. More than once I’ve looked back on my High School self and thought: how did I do that? How did I work so hard? Our private insecurities follow us and will always follow us.
But the thing is, we’re all like that. Nobody wakes up when they want to. Nobody did all of their reading (except maybe the crazy people who win the prizes…) We have these impossibly high standards and we’ll probably never live up to our perfect fantasies of our future selves. But I feel like that’s okay.
We’re so young. We’re so young. We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There’s this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lay alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out – that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it’s too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.
When we came to Yale, there was this sense of possibility. This immense and indefinable potential energy – and it’s easy to feel like that’s slipped away. We never had to choose and suddenly we’ve had to. Some of us have focused ourselves. Some of us know exactly what we want and are on the path to get it; already going to med school, working at the perfect NGO, doing research. To you I say both congratulations and you suck.
For most of us, however, we’re somewhat lost in this sea of liberal arts. Not quite sure what road we’re on and whether we should have taken it. If only I had majored in biology…if only I’d gotten involved in journalism as a freshman…if only I’d thought to apply for this or for that…
What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.
In the heart of a winter Friday night my freshman year, I was dazed and confused when I got a call from my friends to meet them at EST EST EST. Dazedly and confusedly, I began trudging to SSS, probably the point on campus farthest away. Remarkably, it wasn’t until I arrived at the door that I questioned how and why exactly my friends were partying in Yale’s administrative building. Of course, they weren’t. But it was cold and my ID somehow worked so I went inside SSS to pull out my phone. It was quiet, the old wood creaking and the snow barely visible outside the stained glass. And I sat down. And I looked up. At this giant room I was in. At this place where thousands of people had sat before me. And alone, at night, in the middle of a New Haven storm, I felt so remarkably, unbelievably safe.
We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I’d say that’s how I feel at Yale. How I feel right now. Here. With all of you. In love, impressed, humbled, scared. And we don’t have to lose that.
We’re in this together, 2012. Let’s make something happen to this world.

Ready Set Inaction

It's scary sometimes scared we are. Life is full of uncertainty. So, why do we worry about that which we cannot control? I read another blog today about inaction and "the fear" that immobilizes us because it will drag us into the abyss of the unknown. It is a place where we are scared and uncomfortable and out of place. However, that is where adventure really starts. That's the place where the true stories are told. That's the place where we find out who we really are.

I have only really been influenced a great deal by a couple of people in my life: My Grandpa, Lenhart, and MickeyG. My Grandpa showed me the value of loving God and the people around you. He showed me what it means to live a life full and free. Lenhart taught me to ask.. "Why Not Bro?" Might seem simple but too many times in life, we ask ourselves why should we do this?? We might get in trouble.. well life is too short so why not? MickeyG taught me that it doesn't matter what other people think.. i mean he owns a surfing goat now.. but in all reality his love of God is almost unmatched.. his love of life is unequalled..

My biggest fear in life is that I will miss an opportunity that will sweep me away on a grand adventure.. or worse yet, that I will be too afraid or scared to take that leap of faith.. sometimes it is important to take a step back and recognize what God is doing in our lives.. however, we can't do it too long or else we might miss what happens next.. and we might fall into "the fear" and become too comfortable in life and not recognize God at all anymore..

Tebow

Uncompromising. Bold. Unyielding. Strong. Unwilling to give in. Courageous. Selfless. Competitive to a fault. To me, Tim Tebow is amazing. He continually, throughout all the media bashing and criticisms from other athletes, gives all Honor and Glory to God and his teammates. Humble. Yet he keeps winning. I have always been taught that if yoU Honor God with the gifts that he has given you, God will honor you. Ever Believing. I am not saying that divine intervention has been the reason that he has won but I do believe that God watches over those who follow Him and give Him everything that they are. Keep following Him wherever He leads you.

2743632000

My mom has an uncanny ability to predict the future. To those who know her and actually pay attention to what she says, like I have learned to do, she has predicted when I would get speeding tickets, get in car accidents, when girlfriends broke up with me, as well as when I was sucking it up in school. She had no way of knowing but she just had a "feeling." Whatever you want to call that, divine intervention, karma, fate, whatever it is, she is good at it. 

Well to get completely serious now, we were at thanksgiving. It was my dad, my mom, my sisters, mark (my sisters husband), mark's parents, tim, jane, dale, brittney, myself, and my grandpa. My mom decided to try and have the "let's all say something that we are thankful for" speech. She said that she was thankful for her dad, my grandpa and that he was still here, alive and kicking. I remember thinking to myself, oh geez. I always get really mad at her when she tells me stuff like this or says stuff like this. I think she may actually have this as her spiritual gift. I don't know if she actually has control over it. But when she said that, it almost felt eerie. Unfortunately, three weeks later, my grandpa passed away. In no way am I blaming my mom. She said what she felt and it was well received. Luckily, her last words to him were that she loved him. However, it got me thinking about my grandpa. 

While he was in the hospital, he had numerous visitors and we unfortunately had to tell them to go away. He had so many people that he knew and not only liked him and respected him. They also loved him. He went out of his way for other people. He loved to serve other people. He loved to bring home the stragglers, the lost, the out of favors, the unfortunate, and the misfits. He would bring them in and treat them as family. He had a servant's heart. He was "Jonathan" to many. He embodied what it really meant to love people unconditionally. He went to countless soccer games to watch me play and even watch me coach. He went to dance recitals, took us hiking all over North America, took us to lunch weekly when he wasn't strong enough to hike, took care of us in whatever we needed, and was always willing to listen and give wise advice when asked. He was a man of mystery as well. He was a go to guy back in WW2. He never had to use a gun but had to secretly acquire secret plans from other countries. Later on, he was in a think tank, that had all of the brightest minds at that time, to try and decide how much dust was on the moon. The question being answered was how deep is the dust and if we land, will we be able to take off. He helped develop the radar that answered the question. He helped create another radar that came back with pictures in color. He was a husband. God came first and then his wife. Whatever she wanted or needed, it happened... The story on how he actually met her is quite funny...

However, since this is a simple blog, I will stop by saying that this man is my hero. He was an incredibly passionate man. He put others before himself. He is the description of a servant leader. He loved and feared God and I know where he now is. He allowed others to feel God when they were around him and that quality alone endeared him. He died 87 years young. Thats 274,363,200 seconds. Grandpa, thank you for setting the example and helping guide the way.