Dodgeball, An autobiography

Small fact: dodgeball is stupid. The only reason that I said that I would choose it for my sport was on the condition that I wouldn’t actually have to do the dodge the ball bit. This turned out to be very true. Though I wasn’t expecting that other people would not have the same view about the stupidness of dodgeball as me. I know that there are people who actually enjoy sports but I never thought that there would be such a thing as a dodgeball enthusiast. Well, there isn’t really. There are just highly competitive people who use dodgeball to satisfy that need to win. To me dodgeball doesn’t bring up any complicated philosophical questions. It’s just so pointless that you have to wonder what the hell people are doing being enthusiastic about it.
Me, I sat in the corner of the gym playing puzzle games on my phone and flinching not an inch when balls were hurriedly hurled my way. One of the greatest advantages to not giving a crap about winning is that you get to watch other people give a crap about winning, which is a vastly curious sport.
As I sat in the corner for a very special reason. It was a tactical reason rather than a lazy reason. The fact is that even if people decide that I’m worth the ball if they are off angle for more than an inch it’s just going to hit one wall, bounce onto the other and miss me entirely. Another good thing was that people tend to crowd around corners for no good reason when they’re afraid of getting hit, so I viewed the game from a cage of long, pale legs.
The thing about dodgeball is that the people that actually give a shit are usually either really, surprisingly tall, or really rather small. I found this remarkably amusing.
An unfortunate fact for not really giving a crap is that when your team loses and all the good people are out you can either just stand there and get a ball int he face or you can stand up and play. I did the latter. Though not with my normal lack of enthusiasm towards actual physical exercise. I figured that if I was going to have to jump around dodging brightly coloured balls with 96 pairs of judgemental eyes staring at me I may as well have a little fun with it. I don’t need to tell you where that went.
Happily this only happened once because our team had a larger amount of people who gave a shit on it than the other team.
The one time my not exactly playing, but not exactly out strategy didn’t work and I well and truly did get out was the one game that my team lost. Though unlike most of my other teammates there was a much smaller amount of yelling and violence. This year nine guy came up to me holding one of the balls. I didn’t recognise him, but that wasn’t surprising considering we were playing with people from year eight to year ten. He asked me if I was out and I grudgingly told him that I wasn’t. He smiled at me in a nervous sort of way and threw the ball like a bowling ball. It hit my boot with a satisfactory thump. We saluted each other as I wander vacantly towards the out area filled with the rest of my team. Later I was asked if I knew him to which I had to answer no, nonetheless in those few minutes of confrontation I had become a fan.
In the end I wandered out of the gym feeling bewildered and vaguely hungry. I deemed the period of sport a decent waste of my times and somehow ended up on a train deciding I needed to document what I had observed.

Half full half empty

A PE teacher once placed a half full/empty glass in front of me. She gave placed one on everyone else desks as well. She asked us whether it was half full or half empty. This was one of those high school self esteem classes that is basically the teacher saying the same statement over and over again. It was a ‘stare out the window’ class. Still, I tried my best to think about what my answer would be. We went around the class and everyone gave the same goddamned answer. Half full. Nobody wants to be the one with the negative attitude. And all the people with a negative attitude doesn’t want anyone to know let alone a chock-full-of-bad-sentiments PE teacher who is secretly just improvising.
Nonetheless I was curious about what would pop into my mind. So I stared at the cup and waited for something to happen. Nothing did. I was very disappointed. I tried to figure out why I didn’t regard the cup as half full or half empty as my turn to stand and give my answer got tauntingly close. I stared at it until finally I figured it out. The answer was actually very simple. I just didn’t care. It doesn’t matter whether it half full or half empty, you were still going to get the same amount of water in the end. So when it came to my turn, thats what I said. I said it didn’t matter and sat back down and let my audiences attention drift aimlessly to the person next to.
This is still my opinion. Though it had evolved beyond that primitive answer. I went on through out the day thinking about the question, once I had my answer. It’s such a overused question that everyone has their answer planned out in advance. You also have to take in the fact that as a thirteen year old that last people you’re going to tell the you are depressed or you find the cup half empty rather than half full. It is so frustrating, as a student, that most high school teachers assume that we, as their students, are just going to pour our hearts out.
Talking about depression in class.
Teacher:“Has anyone ever had an experience like this or is having an experience like this?”
Class: *Deathly silence* *swarm of death stares*
Teacher:“Okay. Moving on… here’s is something that happened to me that is completely different and will probably help you in no way whatsoever”
I honestly have a friend who is depressed. Real, not temporary depression. The type that makes you feel numb and shell like. The type that whispers in your ear telling you to do stuff to yourself that harms you in more ways than one. The type that eats you from the inside out.
This is how she explained it to me.
We were walking to the train station together with another friend of ours after school and suddenly she just said “I’m depressed” I remained silent as the other friend went through the natural “Why didn’t you tell us before?” speech. At the time I didn’t know much about depression. I knew that it was bad but not much more than that. Later I figured out that it went far deeper than ‘bad’. I am an upbeat, eternally positive person so before this experience with this friend I didn’t know what the word meant. I don’t think that it would be possible for me, myself to be depressed. I doubt I can even get sad. I can only lose my temper which is a whole new scenario.
I didn’t know why she was telling us, but she did and thus I decided that the best thing I could do was listen to her rant and occasionally cry on the train. Sometimes her days would get so bad that as soon as she got into our personal carriage that nobody ever gets on she would just burst into tears. It was heartbreaking but also brought on a new level of emotional strength for everyone involved.
Anyway I’m out of puff and I have homework to do, so just keep this in mind is all I ask of you in return for reading this.