My First Regatta

         Being a new, inexperienced rower, I was beyond ecstatic about my first regatta of the season last Sunday. I imagined a beautiful sunny day, with many young, built, shirtless men, carrying around heavy boats, coaches and parents laughing and eating food, while watching the graceful sport from the sidelines, and us rowers having a great time with one another. While many of these expectations were met, I may have romanticized the reality of the sport just a bit.

            That Sunday morning at 5:45, there I went, my hands wrapped tight around my cup of coffee. It was raining, it was dark, it was cold, and we had to drag one teammate out of bed. The next hour on the bus many of us continued sleeping or watched the sunrise, which instead of turning the sky into a kaleidoscope of beautiful colors, was soon covered with clouds, leaving it completely dull and grey. But it didn’t faze me because Ed Sheeran was singing me lullabies, I was wearing my favorite sweater, and our dear coaches provided us with some bagels and cream cheese. What was there possibly to complain about?

            Soon we arrived at the venue, and it started pouring. I found myself in this place that was filled with boats, wet bodies, and muddy feet. While trying to set up the tent, which was the only thing that could keep us dry, we soon came to the realization that it had broken, and could only function as some sort of fort that one could crawl under. Nevertheless, I was completely soaked only twenty minutes after arrival, and my favorite sweater had become completely useless and disgusting. Off it went, and I was left shivering in my crew shirt and spandex. Right as I thought matters couldn’t get any worse, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the boat as we were rigging it, and realized that I had been foolish enough to wear mascara that wasn’t waterproof (because I wanted to impress those ripped crew boys, of course), and now looked like a soaking wet raccoon. Aside all these little things, I was very excited as our first race was approaching, the Varsity 8. We got in line to launch, carrying the heavy boat on our shoulders, while strange elevator music was blasting through the speakers, obviously getting us pumped for the race.

Before I knew it, I was pushing out power tens, pulling through the wind and rain, ignoring the pain of new blisters on my hands, trying to find that little extra bit of strength each stroke, and testing my mental toughness. There is one thing I strongly believe, and realized during the race: Crew girls are the toughest girls out there. We are not fazed by rain, wind, or mud; we don’t shy away from 6k erg tests, or weight-lifting circuits; we don’t stop, even if our hands are bleeding or legs are cramping. Crew girls are one of a kind. The race was very exciting as we flew by a boat, and held off another one for the entire time.

 The next race was not for another four-and-a-half hours, which may have been the longest four-and-a-half hours of my life. They were spent trying to find coffee, stuffing my face with Dunkin Donuts’ munchkins, and unsuccessfully trying to stay warm. I did, however, see some serious six packs and god-like arms, making it all worth it. After about an hour or so, I’d given up on socks and shoes, and was now sloshing through the mud barefoot, adding a whole new dimension to the experience. The minutes were ticking by, lips were turning purple, and the rain was getting heavier. When finally, we were called out for our next race, I did not think I still had it in me to do it all over again. Once in the boat, our dear coxswain came to the horrible discovery that her cox box (the machine which shows the ratings/time during the race, and allows their microphone to work) had broken. So there we went, without Kelly’s vital voice guiding us through the race, pushed and pulled, and I might have cried a little bit out of pain and frustration. Yet, to my surprise, we made it to the finish line; maybe not with a great time, or with great pride, but we made it, and no one can take that away from us.

That Sunday evening, at 6 pm, there I went, empty handed and barefoot, back to the familiarity of my home town. It was raining, it was dark, it was cold, but somehow we lifted each other through the day. My first regatta wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine, rather rough and never-ending, but boy was it an experience. 

Sweet Goodbyes

Where has the time gone? Every time I find myself back here, so much has happened, so much has changed, but I always end up right here on my blog.

The last six months might have been the craziest months of my life. I spent 2.5 months in Cape Town, South Africa, where I have made SO many memories! There isn't a day that goes by where my brain doesn't decide to take me back to something that happened while I was on exchange. Not only do I miss how gorgeous Cape Town was, I miss my school and my friends so so much. It didn't make it any easier when I had to go right back from paradise to "The Nunnery", where palm trees, beaches, and sunsets were traded for books, acne, and Oreo's. The last few months at school were tough. I had completely adapted to the African pace of life, and enjoyed taking it easy and being worry-free (well.. who doesn't love that?!). However, that's not how the people around me were living. I found myself back at school, sleeping through assemblies (and receiving far too many detention slips in my mailbox), forgetting (sometimes PURPOSELY forgetting) to hand in homework assignments, losing my drive to push through two hours of sports everyday, and drowning in this crazy world without trying to swim.

I had fallen in love with my new life that I had established so well. I loved the new, happier, bubblier "Laura", the Laura that wasn't afraid of consequences and lived life the right way, the happy way.
I did not miss the studious, serious girl I had once been. The girl whose highlight of the week was a banana chocolate chip muffin, and who cringed at the thought of what would happen if she broke a rule at school (because let me tell you, I had already been there and suffered the consequences).

I hated having to throw my new life away away and having to box it all up as a good memory of a time that I wish I could relive over and over again.

That was when I realized that I needed to change something about my real life. I needed to find a happy medium between how I was in South Africa, and how I was at home. After thinking and thinking, I figured out what the problem was: my school.

If you have followed my blog from the beginning, you will have read through some of my funny and more serious chronicles as a student at an all-girls prep school full of wacky traditions and interesting people. This school has made me into the person who I am now, but at a certain point it stopped providing me with opportunities for more growth. The strict rules and regulations are something I don't need anymore. I know how to accomplish my dreams, but now I just need to be set free. I need to find a new place that would be able to turn me back into happy AND studious Laura: the Laura that was a little 5-foot-tall freshman with braces that entered boarding school with high hopes, expectations, and dreams. But let's leave out the braces, and I kinda like being 5'7 now.

So here I am, completely changing things up. I am going to a slightly larger co-ed private school where I will be day student. And I can't wait to write about all the crazy things that will happen there.

In the meanwhile... I will be posting on here a lot more.
By the way, I'm working on a novel!

XOXO Laura

Woke up to this.

A New Adventure

Where did the time go? I haven't blogged since August?!
These few months all seem like a blur, even though many things happened and changed, for the better and for the worse. Sad fact #1: Gossip Girl ended. What will I do without my weekly dose of Chuck Bass?! Sad fact #2: school has been rough this year.

I am starting to figure out who I am and what I want from life, which makes things easier but also harder. I want to travel, see beautiful places, meet interesting people, see what the world is all about. These past months I have felt restricted, like I couldn't move. I was disappointed in the people around me, the people who are supposed to look out for me. Not only was this frustrating, but I also learned another lesson: people are just people. Even with a title, or an important position, performance is not guaranteed. I always try to see the best in people, but it becomes incredibly difficult when you are let down over and over again. Don't get me wrong, prep school has been great, I just feel that I need to move on and discover what living is REALLY all about. I don't believe living a fulfilled life means going to the best college, getting the best job, a lovely husband, three healthy children, and a golden retriever. Life should be much more than that. I believe we need adventure, we constantly need to remind ourselves to face our fears every day, do things that make us nervous, take risks. Because at the end of the day we will all die. I just don't want to lie on my deathbed thinking about all of the things I should have done.

This is why I am making some changes in my life, on which I will elaborate more when the time comes.

And what is my next adventure going to be? Catching my flight to Cape Town, South Africa tomorrow.