the aftermath
All I know is that I love Arts High School. The last Cup Game of the year was far from epic, but we were loud and obnoxious and surprisingly, that was okay. Obnoxiousness in numbers is somehow not quite as embarrassing or as stupid. It was fun and we were just so in the moment, so impulsive, so silly, but oh, it was fun. My hands were about to bleed. I think we sucked in some kids from some other schools, so next year, it should be pretty great.
Next year we are taking Montville down. Let's see whether they'll put down their damn ballots when they realize that Freehold thrashed them. The freshmen, miffed? Never!
But yes, we've got a tiny bit of a grudge now. And hopefully, a source for our determination to beat them next year.
What Happened:
Poetry was teh sucky. Oh, and how I completely appreciated Camillo Bruin making faces at me the entire time while I performed during first round. True, he may have been the only one to understand all of the references in my first poem, but still, it was kind of like watching Mrs. Price grade papers; you could tell exactly what he was thinking at each precise moment. In the end, it was a 3,4,5, not well enough to be half-heartedly satisfied, not nearly enough to think murderous thoughts about having been screwed over by a single judge.
Dec, on the other hand...
Dec was crazy.
I'm still a bit dazed.
I didn't even expect to break. I looked up at that code on that poster and thought, "Nope, isn't me," and went to cheer on Cydni and Nicole. Lo and behold, Apter comes charging after me after their prose round and we basically have to run to the Dec room. The entire time, I'm thinking, "Is this really happening? Are you sure?" and, "Wow," and, "Why exactly didn't I catch that before, again?"
Then, finals. I'm still high on semi-finals, so I just scan the poster quickly. Then I recover myself, and figure that since I fought my way to the front (read: climbed around everyone's legs) I might as well really study that poster. My eyes practically snag on the black lettering of a paritulcar code: 1120. My brain is going into overdrive and I ask for Cara and Mona to confirm it, because I think I see my code but I really can't be sure it's my code and even when I go up there to the room to compete, my head is still wondering whether those four little digits are correct.
It was just...amazing. All of it. Especially the dance-off. Sure, the people on our team got screwed over, but I wouldn't have missed the experience for the world.
Next year we are taking Montville down. Let's see whether they'll put down their damn ballots when they realize that Freehold thrashed them. The freshmen, miffed? Never!
But yes, we've got a tiny bit of a grudge now. And hopefully, a source for our determination to beat them next year.
What Happened:
Poetry was teh sucky. Oh, and how I completely appreciated Camillo Bruin making faces at me the entire time while I performed during first round. True, he may have been the only one to understand all of the references in my first poem, but still, it was kind of like watching Mrs. Price grade papers; you could tell exactly what he was thinking at each precise moment. In the end, it was a 3,4,5, not well enough to be half-heartedly satisfied, not nearly enough to think murderous thoughts about having been screwed over by a single judge.
Dec, on the other hand...
Dec was crazy.
I'm still a bit dazed.
I didn't even expect to break. I looked up at that code on that poster and thought, "Nope, isn't me," and went to cheer on Cydni and Nicole. Lo and behold, Apter comes charging after me after their prose round and we basically have to run to the Dec room. The entire time, I'm thinking, "Is this really happening? Are you sure?" and, "Wow," and, "Why exactly didn't I catch that before, again?"
Then, finals. I'm still high on semi-finals, so I just scan the poster quickly. Then I recover myself, and figure that since I fought my way to the front (read: climbed around everyone's legs) I might as well really study that poster. My eyes practically snag on the black lettering of a paritulcar code: 1120. My brain is going into overdrive and I ask for Cara and Mona to confirm it, because I think I see my code but I really can't be sure it's my code and even when I go up there to the room to compete, my head is still wondering whether those four little digits are correct.
It was just...amazing. All of it. Especially the dance-off. Sure, the people on our team got screwed over, but I wouldn't have missed the experience for the world.