Indie Athleticism

It might not come as a big surprise to most when I say that I am sort of the “philosophical” type… slightly pensive, artistic, and introspective. Most would assume that I would rather read a book, listen to my weird, indie music, or paint a picture than anything else. Those people would also assume that because of this, I have no athletic ability. That my boyfriend jeans, band t-shirts, and thick-framed glasses would get in the way. That my Toms shoes might not let me run as fast as I would like. That I might fall (very likely) and injure my right hand, making art an impossible task. That I would cry my emo tears and write a deep, meaningful song on my acoustic guitar about my depression and sense of “lostness” in this vast, empty world.

Well… you are not 100% correct. I don’t play the guitar.

Ha, I’m kidding.

But seriously.

I actually love sports. I am actually pretty competitive and pretty decent once I get into whatever I am playing. There are of course some sports I enjoy more than others, but I will honestly never turn down the opportunity to watch a game/match on TV or in person. Even in regards to playing sports, I will play mostly anything… unless it’s basketball. I honestly really suck at basketball. However, my past might not be the best showing of my athleticism but rather support the stereotype that most have of me. And thus, another BETHISM is born.

My parents signed me up for a bunch of sports when I was younger. Following in the footsteps of my sisters, I played soccer, softball, and I was a swimmer. I legitimately think I had ADHD. I was so hyperactive, outgoing, and had a really hard time concentrating. I remember my soccer coach telling me one day before a game that he wanted me to focus more… so he made me goalie. Well, in my opinion, if a kid is hyperactive and has a hard time staying still and concentrating, you should be running them on the field as much as possible. Yeah, life would have agreed too. I was a HORRIBLE goalie. I chased butterflies just to keep moving. Same with softball… awesome pitcher and shortstop, but the minute you put me in the outfield, I drew pictures in the sand. Swimming? I think I was just too short for it… I lasted until 5^th grade with softball and 7^th grade with soccer. Oh, and don’t let me forget to tell you about the time my dad gave me too many lemon drops before a soccer game and some girl kicked the ball right at my stomach and I threw up everywhere. Truth.

Oh, and I did gymnastics… for a year… and then I accidentally peed my pants on the trampoline and was too embarrassed to go back. And no, this was not when I was a teenager.

I also a danced for 11 years. Ballet, jazz, and hip-hop mostly. This was really where I should have stayed.

Picture this: Gym class in 8^th grade. We are playing kickball. I really didn’t want to play. Not because I didn’t like kickball but more so because I didn’t like a few of my team members. Yep, super mature, I know. I went to play outfield. Well, the people on the other team really sucked and were just bunting and tripping over the huge kickball inning after inning. I was so bored and really annoyed so I basically just stopped paying attention and began to space out. I don’t know how long I spaced out for, but the next thing I knew, I just heard, “Watch out!” I looked up and all I saw falling down from the sky was that large red orb, that demon kickball. Yep, it hit me right in the face. Me? I fell to the ground… right along with that kickball.

After the mile run, a boy threw up on my shoe. How people throw up after running one mile just boggles me.

Another incident? Tennis. Okay, tennis is really the one sport I really don’t enjoy at all. I hate watching it AND playing it. But naturally, gym teachers love forcing you to play games and sports you hate doing… so, in gym we played tennis. Well, as I was walking to the court I was assigned to, I accidentally walked right in front of the machine that shoots out the tennis balls. I got hit right in the back and fell down. This seems to be a theme. Yeah, obviously 8^th grade wasn’t my best year.

Instead of quitting swimming all together, I decided to start diving when I was in 8^th grade. I remember my high school diving team experience like it was yesterday… running laps and laps around the track, doing bleacher exercises, countless lunges, and practicing dive after dive after dive until I got it perfectly. I was so beat up after pre-training that I had bruises running from my Achilles’ tendon up to my lower back from hitting the water. This wasn’t just me, but everyone on my team. My English teacher has suspicions of child abuse at my home so she referred me to the guidance counselor. Unfortunately, I had to break the news that it was not my mom or my dad but rather my diving coach and that gosh-forsaken pool. Not only did I have bruises but I dislocated 7 fingers, both of my ankles, and I cracked my head open… all from hitting the board. My “favorite” memory? Practicing 2 ½’s. Only one other girl could do this on the team and she was phenomenal. My coach was a crazy person, and whenever someone hit the water wrong, started crying, or said they didn’t want to do a dive anymore, he would, inevitably, make us do it again. So, when I did my two and a half and hit the water harder than I ever had before… on my FACE… I started crying. He walked over to me, looks straight at me and asks, “You wanna do that again?” I, in between sobs, stammer out, “y… ye… yesssss.” He just started laughing and didn’t make me do it again. Yes became my routine answer after this trick had work.

Even in intramurals throughout high school and college, my athleticism did not seem to be quite up to par. Like the time I was thrown out of my flag football game freshman year at Creighton, when someone tackled me in ultimate frisbee and pulled my pants down with them as they fell to the ground. Or the time I ran into a giant electrical box chasing after one of those fireworks that shoots out a parachute.

I love sports… but sometimes, especially during these times of proven Bethisms, it might just be better to proclaim that I am just your average, indoor, artsy type.

Nocturnal Road Trip

I am currently back in Chicago. I haven't been home since Christmas, so I thought it would be nice to return back to my stomping grounds for a weekend and just spend some time with my mom and oldest sister. Well, I am not the most rational person in the world, so the planning of this trip home was, to say the least, not that well thought out. I had two options in my head: 1) to leave right after work (at 9:30 pm) on Thursday night or 2) leave super early on Friday morning. I debated back and fourth for awhile, taking into consideration a number of things. It's about an 8-hour drive from Omaha. If I left by 10 pm once I got home from work, I would have to drive through the night and I wouldn't get in until about 6 am. However, if I got in at that time, my mom would already be at work and I could just essentially sleep until she got home, that way, when she got home, I would be ready to spend the rest of the afternoon with her. The thought of driving through the night did not sound appealing, however, so I considered the second option. If I left really early, I would be all rested up, wouldn't have to drive eight hours in the dark, and would get home at about the same time my mom would be getting home from work. Well, for some reason, I just decided to leave Thursday night after work and drive through the night... again, I am irrational in so many ways.

Here is how my trip went.

I left a little before 10 pm by the time I went back to my apartment, ate something super quick, and grabbed some last minute things before my adventure. Now, I don't know how many have actually driven to Chicago from Omaha, but the drive really sucks. Normally I don't mind it too much because it is a good time for me think about things, clear my head, pray and listen to some sermons, and bust out to whatever music I want, but even with these things taken into consideration, the drive is still awful. ESPECIALLY the two-hour trek to Des Moines. For some reason, those first two hours are just the worst. They just drag on and on and on. Once I make it to Des Moines, it normally goes by pretty fast. Well, luckily my good friend Josh called me and stayed on the phone with me for 45-minutes on my way to Des Moines, but after that, things started going downhill...

In Des Moines, I stopped at a gas station for coffee #1. After I filled my car up with gas, I walked up to the station and outside was one of the employees smoking. I thought this man was going to cough up a lung... he was just coughing SO hard and it completely grossed me out, but I walked passed him and went inside. I got my coffee, a bottle of water, and went to the register to pay. The man walked inside once he realized I was waiting and began to ring my things up. Right before I handed him my money, he looks at me and says, "I'm sorry, I think I'm going to be sick..." and low-and-behold, he grabbed a trashcan and just lost it. Yep, he threw up in front of me. There was a sink nearby and I grabbed him some papertowels and water to clean up. After I made sure he was okay, I just handed him my $5 and told him to keep the change. I left, got back into my car, and was back on the interstate ready to face the remaining 6 hours of my trip home... and then 10 miles later, I realized I left my coffee at the gas station. GOSH DANG IT. This was going to be a long trip.

Here is a series of other events that occurred on my trip out:
- I hit a bat. Yep, I hit a bat. It flew right into my windshield and freaked the heck out of me. I have only hit on animal before with my car in my entire life, so I was a little traumatized.
- I had this ongoing fear that I was either going to get in a car accident involving two creepy semi-drivers who were stalking me, that I was going to be raped by a semi driver, or fear that my front two tries would fall off my car, I would fly through the window, and then get run over by my car and then my head would get run over by a semi. I don't know what it is about semis, but I obviously have an immense fear of them and their stereotypical handlers. I blame this entire fearful situation to Josh Laughlin.
- I was nervous I was going to hit a deer. There is an insane number of deer in Iowa, so driving at night and passing by numerous scenes of "deer splatterings" on the interstate, I was nervous something like that would happen to me. Obviously I am just living in fear.
- My iPod broke. That sucked. I went old school and just listened to a crapload of CD's. It was pretty great.
- I started getting SUPER giddy at about 3 in the morning... like just laughing to myself, singing super loud, and just going nuts. Pretty glad no one was there to witness it because I probably should be really embarrassed.
- I had a pretty awesome discussion with a FedEx truck driver when I got coffee #3 in DeKalb, Illinois. We were both waiting for the new pot of coffee to finish brewing an he looks down at my feet. He notices my tattoo and asks me what the scripture was. I told him what it was and he just kept asking me questions like why I decided to get it, why I got it in that specific spot, what those verses mean to me, etc. After telling me about this, he told me, "Well, I thought I was going to get a Bible verse tattoo too. You know, John 3:16." Then he started going on and on about how that verse talks about being a light in the world. I felt bad because that isn't at all what that verse talks about, but I just listened to him talk. He was a pretty funny and goofy guy. Interesting talk with him about faith and life.

I got home at 6 am... it's funny how I left Omaha just when the sun completely went down and I arrived in Chicago right after sunrise.

Then I slept till 2 pm.

NEVER doing that again.

Beef doors, obnoxious kids, and other absurdities.

I really need to be better at blogging on a more regular basis. Dang my frugalness and refusing to pay for internet in my apartment. Anyways, here is a small collection of some of my most recent awkward moments:

SOME MORE QUOTES FROM MY MIDDLE SCHOOL STUDENTS (I just found these in one of my notebooks... I obviously did not want to forget about them):


Teryn: "Hey Miss Cavender, you wanna see my tattoo?"
Me: "You have a tattoo?"
Teryn: "Yeah, my mom paid for it." **Lifts up his sleeve and on his forearm, 'tattoo' is written in pen**... "Yep, She bought the pen."


Levi: "Miss Cavender, today, you look like an elf."
Mason: "How is that any different from any other day?"
Me: "Wow, that's rude."
Mason: "Good thing Christmas is my favorite holiday."
Levi: ".... I prefer Thanksgiving."


Camerion: "Can I have that portrait you just drew?"
Me: "No, I need it for an example when I actually start teaching my own classes. Why do you want it?"
Camerion: "What? Please? I promise I won't throw darts at it... I might draw a mustache though..."


Markerius: "I can't wait to get married."
Me: "Don't rush into anything, you have plenty of time."
Markerius: "Oh don't worry... I'm just always hungry and I need someone to make and bring me food."


A couple of unfortunate events that just happened at a recent Omaha Beef Game:


So, I was just leaning up against a wall next to the concession area eating a hot dog. My friends Alex and Ravi were in line to get more food so I just decided to stay out of the way and wait to the side. Well, literally 2 minutes after the boys get in line, some random guy comes up to me and says, "Hey, you sittin' with anyone at the game?" "Oh... ummm, yeah I am. Just waiting for them. They are in line." "Well, if you wanna escape and hang out with us (points at his homies), you are totally welcome to." "Thanks, but i'll pass." Really dude? You really thought that I attended Omaha Beef games alone? No thanks.


I have a horrible tendency to be really clumsy and fall into things. Ravi and Alex have a horrible tendency to be really obnoxious and push me around. Well, every time the Beef scored a touchdown, they would both push and shove me... it probably didn't help that I was sitting between them. Well, we decided to leave the game a little early. As we were walking through the hallway, the Beef scored again. Naturally, Ravi decided to shove me again... keeping up the tradition I guess. Well, he shoved me right into a door... as a man was walking out of it. I slammed into this opening door and the man on the other side gave me the most confused look ever. I awkwardly apologized as Rav and Al laughed at me. Thanks, great friends.



I LOVE DOWNTOWN OMAHA. MOST OF ALL, I LOVE ALL THE DIFFERENT RESTAURANTS AND PLACES TO GET TOGETHER WITH FRIENDS TO JUST CHILL. TED AND WALLY'S, A HOMEMADE ICE CREAM PARLOR, IS PARTICULARLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE PLACES. I WAS THERE WITH MY FRIENDS MOLLY AND KRISTIN, SAYING MY GOODBYES BEFORE KRISTIN MOVED AWAY. THIS IS A REAL CONVERSATION THAT OCCURED AT OUR GOODBYE SESSION:

Japanese kid (with an EXTREMELY heavy accent): "Um, excuse me, can I get picture?" (looking straight at me)
Me: "Um, no thanks."
JK: "I a student. One picture?"
Me: "Sorry, no."
JK: "But I form Japan."
Me: "Yeah, I know. No thanks."
JK and all his foreign friends: **Hysterical laughter**
Molly: "Wow... that was awesome."

DRIVING HOME FROM SOME ERRANDS, AN OLDER MAN IN AN SUV ROLLS DOWN HIS WINDOW AND STARTS WAVING AT ME TO ROLL DOWN MINE WHILE WE WERE BOTH STOPPED AT A STOP LIGHT. I JUST ASSUMED HE NEEDED DIRECTIONS... NOPE:

Me: "Can I help you with something?"
Man: "Yeah, do... you think you could show me some leg?"
Me: (Absolutely DISGUSTED look on my face) "No."
Man: "Oh c'mon, it's hot."
Me: (I begin to roll my window up and shaking my head vigorously in disapproval)

Really? The neverending question for my life: Why is it that I attract the BIGGEST creeps.