Extraction

(This post will be very choppily written. Don’t blame me. Must be the drugs.)

Three months ago, they surfaced. Three weeks ago, I had my consult with the oral/maxillofacial surgeon. Three hours ago, I got them extracted. Before the surgery, I was really nervous. What if I have a bad reaction to the anesthesia? What if the pain is excruciating? What if they pull the wrong teeth? (Okay, that one might be slightly irrational.) But I had no choice. They had to come out sooner or later, and summer is a good time to get it done. You don’t have to go back to school with a puffy face merely to be called a chipmunk for days. You don’t have to pack your own lunch of weird, soft foods that, if it were really up to you, you would never eat. You don’t have to pop a pill during class, which the most immature kid in class is bound to see, because then he’ll yell, “DRUGGIE!” at you. In short, I figured I should get them done sooner instead of later.

The trouble began at midnight the previous night/that morning. (I never know how to phrase that. Technically, midnight is that day, but no one really views it that way...or do they?) I was not allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight, which unfortunately included my allergy medicine. Not taking my allergy medicine never ends up well...for anyone. I woke up at 10:30 the morning of and decided to watch a movie to pass the time until my 1:00 surgery. When 1 rolled around, I hopped into the car in the most unattractive outfit possible, because they said, “Wear loose comfortable clothing and do not wear excessive make-up.” Well, I didn’t do my hair, so it was a mixture of Helena Bonham-Carter’s Bellatrix Lestrange and the early-days Hermione Granger. Got a picture in your mind? It’s probably not as bad as your mental-picture, but it sure feels like it. The no-make-up policy doesn’t bother me, because I don’t wear much during the summer anyway, and I really just don’t give a damn. My attire consisted of a pair of deck stain-stained Adidas ™ running shorts, green Old Navy flip-flops, my black Titleist baseball cap, and a KU t-shirt. (I didn’t want to risk getting blood on my Notre Dame t-shirts, of course.)

Waiting, waiting, waiting....waits at the doctor’s office are always superfluously long...except for this time. I sat down, and by the time I got comfortable, which means crossing my legs, I was called up. They sat me down in a chair, plugged me up to some heart-monitors, put on a tourniquet, complimented my strategically-planned t-shirt, stuck me with the IV, and told me to think of something nice. Now let me just say, when someone tells me to think of something nice and I have mere seconds to do so, I feel a little pressured. Sometimes, weird things can pop up. Some may say what popped into my mind was creepy. Some may say, “GOOD CHOICE!” I’m going to reveal it here, so please don’t judge me.




Yes, I know. I may have a bit of a crush on Rickie Fowler. Oh, unrequited love, why must you hurt me so? And Rickie Fowler, why must you have such beautiful eyes; bold, luscious eyebrows; and tanned, golden skin? And the glasses you sometimes wear? They kill me. So attractive! (Just to clarify, it is not an excessive crush. I do not have pictures of him on my bedroom walls, nor do I doodle his name surrounded by hearts on every piece of paper I get a hold of. I’m not creepy.) Also, have you ever seen someone you find so attractive that it almost hurts to look at them because you know that they’re basically un-haveable? (That’s not a word. I just made it one, though.) That’s how I feel sometimes when I see Mr. Fowler. It hurts worse than my mouth right now!

However long it was later, I woke up. I tried reading a label on a cabinet door 10-feet away from me. 100 mL Sodium Chloride was all it said. It took me 5 times waking up and re-focusing my eyes to get it. I think I sang along with the radio. It must have sounded amazing with my mouth full of spit and gauze. I’m expecting my call to headline Madison Square Garden any day now. My feet were freezing cold...bad decision on the flip-flops. After a while, they let me out. I got in the car and my mom stopped to get me a frosty from Wendy’s. How the **** am I supposed to eat this with gauze in my mouth?

The drive home seemed endless and quick at the same time. Must have been the drugs. I remember seeing storm clouds to the West and asking my mom in a muffled voice, “Ith it thuppothed to thtorm?” She replied that there was only a slight chance, but with as hot and dry as it’s been lately, we needed it. It did rain. A bit. Not enough, though.

When we got home, I climbed the stairs and sat in bed. All of a sudden, I felt like my stomach was slowly making its way up my esophagus. Oh shit. Mother was taking too long with the bowl. My trashcan was reachable, so I did what anyone would do. That’s all I have to say about that.

I sat in bed with my frosty, ice water, ice packs, and watched 30 Rock for a while, then switched to the Office. The only bad thing about watching those shows was they made me smile and laugh, which hurts after having four teeth extracted. I wasn’t tired, the pain wasn’t bad, and I had more energy than sitting in bed used up, so I sat up, and started writing this...

....but my mom just came into my room and said I need to ice my cheeks, so I’m holding them awkwardly to my face in a fashion very similar to how people held phones to their ears before Bluetooth existed. I look like an idiot, I’m sure, but I must keep writing. That is not an option. Well that leads up to now, so I guess I’m done typing. Now I can hold the ice packs to my face in a normal-er looking way. How nice!

Vienna

Whenever I hear the song "Vienna" by Billy Joel, I feel like the song was written for me. (Here's the song:

Every line, phrase, or verse relates to my life in one way or the other. Let me explain:

Slow down you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart tell me why
You are still so afraid?

I feel as if this verse is saying, "Anna, you're a very ambitious girl, which is not a bad thing, but you need to calm it down. You're squandering away your childhood." People tell me I'm smart all the time, so why am I so afraid of failure and not reaching my goals? Surely, whether it's what I want or not, some kind of good lies ahead.

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You better cool it off before you burn it out.
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day.

Once again, why am I focusing all of my energy on my work? I need to take some time to refocus some of my energy on relaxing before I completely burn out. I have a lot to do, and I feel that time is running out, so I need to do it all right now....but I really need to calm down and take a breather.

But you know that when the truth is told,
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old.
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through.
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you?

Slow down you're doing fine.
You can't be everything you want to be
Before your time.
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight.
Too bad but it's the life you lead.
You're so ahead of yourself
That you forgot what you need.
Though you can see when you're wrong,
you know you can't always see when you're right.

Here, I feel as if I'm being told that I want a lot of things--possibly too many. I'm working on reaching my goals for the future too soon, and I "can't be everything I want to be before my time." I focus everything on the things I want, and forget what I need. I beat myself up when I don't reach a goal, even though I sometimes set my own goals a little too high.

You got your passion you got your pride,
But don't you know only fools are satisfied?
Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true.
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you?

I have passion, I have pride, but I need to realize that the only people who are ever really satisfied are fools. In short, no one is ever really 100% satisfied with their landing spot, but I need to make the most of it. "Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true." This line says reach for the stars, but don't think that you can reach every one before you run out of time. Do what you can, but don't reprimand yourself for failing to do the impossible.

Slow down you crazy child!
Take the phone off the hook
And disappeaar for a while.
It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two.
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you?

This final verse tells me to just stop for a few days. Give yourself a break and don't feel lazy because of it. Everyone needs "me time" at some point. Even if that "me time" means going somewhere and telling no one where and completely distancing yourself from your life, it needs to be done.

So what is Vienna? It could be anything. It just depends on the person. Vienna could be, for me, self-acceptance. It could be happiness or serenity; peace and quiet. For workaholics, it could be that promotion they're working so hard for. For singles, it could be their significant other. For parents, the satisfaction of their child's happiness. I leave you with this question: Who, what, or where is your Vienna and when will you realize that it's waiting for you?

Home

Everyone (or almost everyone) has heard the song or phrase, "A House Is Not A Home." It makes sense hearing it, but feeling it is so much more than that. A home is more than wooden beams, bricks, glass, insulation, sheet rock, flooring, and furniture. A home is memories, and if it's anything like mine, it is a part of the family. That's why leaving it is something I can't even fathom right now.

A few hours ago, I was told that my parents are going to buy a new house. I saw the house today, and I hated it. It was small, dated, stuffy, and I cannot sense any happiness following me there. Plus, the fact that I'd be moving away from my best friend since infancy makes it worse. Living next door to your best friend is not only convenient, but it is also comforting. Knowing that a shoulder to cry on or someone to tell the good news to is just 15 seconds away is more than I can describe.

I cannot leave this house. It built me. I learned to ride a bike out front. I've buried 3 pets in the back yard. I had adventures in the fort next to the swing set. I learned to play piano on the mahogany Yamaha in the living room. I learned guitar in the small back bedroom. (Yes, I know the parallels to the song "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert.) I did homework, studied for test, and prepared for my SAT at the kitchen table. I've made and decorated beautiful cakes in the kitchen. I've painted rooms, colored walls. I've played with my Barbies in nearly every room. I've woken up to the same views for 17 1/2 years. I've mowed the lawn more times than I even want to think about. I've played hide and seek with neighbor kids. I've never felt more comfortable anywhere else.

My mom doesn't understand. She keeps saying she does, but how can she? Her parents still live in the house that she grew up in. She gets to go back to the same house that built her. If we move, I will never get that back. I can never feel at home in a house other than this one.

The new house will simply be a building--a roof and some walls. If that's the case, I might as well move into an office complex or a warehouse because it will be the same thing to me.

I also know that moving right before or during my senior year would be a terrible idea. My grades would start to slip from lack of sleep due to homesickness. If my grades slip, I won't get into the colleges of my choice, and then my whole life would change and every hope I have for my future would dissipate.

All the while, I feel like I'm being selfish, thoughtless, and petty. I'm not moving to another state or even city. It's only 2 miles up the road, but I feel as if it might as well be to Canada, or why not just Romania! But eventually, my mom will have to move. She has MS and will not be able to live in a house where she has to constantly take stairs much longer. My dad says he's perfectly fine in this house, and I tell him that I'm more than fine here. The thought of moving is tearing me apart. I have never felt pain in so many places. I can't think straight. I can't even see straight. I don't think I've ever cried this much. My body will be out of all fluid by the time I'm done, or so it seems.

This home is part of me. Leaving it before I'm ready would destroy me. But the writing helps. We haven't moved yet and we don't even know when it's going to happen. I will beg and plead for my parents to wait until I go off to college, and if they do, they'll have even less stuff to shove into the new building. I guess I'm just afraid of such a big change. And this all happened too fast. I found out about their considering buying the house less than a week ago and all of a sudden, "We got it!" Not "we." "You." You got it. I'm never going to get it because I don't want it. There is only one home I want and it sits on Greenbriar Lane. This street, this yard, this house will be the only place I can call home until I have a home of my own and start my own life there. Even if I leave this house physically, I will never leave it emotionally. It will always be a part of me. And that's all there is to it. Simple, yet so complex.

Possibility

After a decade, hundreds of days of shame, many nights of tears, countless therapy sessions, and years of feeling hideous, I did what I always thought would be impossible: I overcame my struggle with Trichotillomania. When I was 6 years old, I plucked out my eyelashes. When I was 11, I plucked a bald spot on the peak of my scalp. On August 31, 2010, when I was 16, I decided it was time to put an end to it all. I grabbed a whiteboard and an Expo marker. On the top I wrote, “Days Without Pulling,” underlined it and started with a big 0. Each day that I went without pulling out my eyelashes, I added a number. The first 3 days were horror. I had to have my mom hide the tweezers. I stayed away from mirrors. I put Vaseline on my fingertips so that I couldn’t get a grip on the individual lashes. 0 turned into 3. 3 turned into 15. 15 turned into 30. 30 turned into 90. After updating the board, I began to realize the temptation started to go away, and as my eyelashes grew longer, my will grew stronger.

I do not tell my story for pity. I tell it so that others who struggle with any disorder or addiction can realize that it can be overcome. It was hard and for 10 long years, I thought it couldn’t be done, but I can now wake up in the morning look at myself in the mirror and be proud of my accomplishment. Most people don’t realize how much eyelashes mean, but to someone who lived without them and earned mockery and torment for it, they mean success. They mean victory. They mean triumph. They mean power. They mean strength.

I can easily say that having Trichotillomania has changed, and still changes, my life in both good and bad ways. The good outweighs the bad, but those bad things sure seem big sometimes. One bad thing: I still feel tempted every single day. The temptation has never really gone away, but it’s much weaker now. I look in the mirror and think to myself, “I could pick that eyelash right there. But how can I turn back now? Why would I ever do that to myself?” Another bad thing: I have never felt pretty. Perhaps when I meet a boy and he tells me face-to-face that I am, maybe, just maybe, I will finally feel like I am pretty, but until then, I still feel like that 14 year old who had to wear tons of eye makeup to hide her lash-less eyelids.

The goods, however, are wonderful. I am now an advocate of the truth: that the impossible is possible; that the will is stronger than the urge. I am no longer afraid to leave the house with no makeup on. And now, more people notice my “striking emerald” eyes. A year ago, when people asked me “What is your favorite facial feature?” I would probably say something obscure like my ears or teeth. Now? “My eyes. I love my eyes.” I am not ashamed of how I look.

TTM defined who I am. It is the reason for my persistence. It is the reason for my refusal to believe that I can't do something. It is why I want to help people. It is why no matter how hideous or weak I feel, I know that I am a beautiful, strong young woman who can have a bright future ahead of her as long as she keeps the right mentality.

I am extremely open with my struggle because others need to know. TTM is more common than most people realize, but it is because those who have it either won’t get the diagnosis or hide their ugly truth. I am open so that people stop mocking and so that anyone struggling with it can find the help they need and overcome it just like I did. Before a year ago, when someone said, “Anything is possible,” I shook my head in skepticism. It’s amazing how one can change in a year, because now I’m the one saying it. And I mean every bit of it. Anything IS possible.

If anyone has any questions, personal or not, feel free to e-mail me at fightingirishfan103@gmail.com. I will answer any questions. If you or someone you know struggles with TTM, visit trich.org for more information or talk to someone else, like me, who struggles with it.

A Humble Teacher: How Randy Waldrum Is More Than Just A Soccer Coach

Interview performed on May 31, 2011

“Everything revolves around soccer and my family.”

Coach Randy Waldrum is a very humble man. While most people would find a record such as his something to boast about—who wouldn’t boast about two National Championships and several other awards?—Waldrum simply says that he doesn’t have any “interesting tidbits” to himself. However, even the busiest and most accomplished of people have hobbies. Waldrum is most assuredly busy, proven accomplished, and he does have some hobbies.

“In my spare time, if I ever have it, I do like to get away and golf a little bit, if I can—although I’m not very good at it, because I don’t have much practice time. And, you know, I don’t mind getting out to a lake and getting on a boat, fishing a little bit, but I don’t have much time to do that. So, I really would say everything pretty much revolves around soccer for me.”

Many people would say that life passions begin very early in life, arguably at the ages of five or six. Waldrum’s passion began when he was a bit older. He played baseball, but the slow-moving sport did not fit well with the young, hyper, and active Waldrum.

“In the city that I grew up in, Irving, Texas, we didn’t have soccer when I was a little boy. I didn’t start in the parks system until I was twelve years old, so by today’s standard I really started late. But as soon as I stepped on the field to play, at twelve, I knew that’s what I wanted to do. I just fell in love with it....Baseball bored me, you know? Standing around waiting...I just fell in love with soccer.”

Waldrum knew that soccer was what he wanted to do, but it was not what he was expected to do. But expectations wouldn’t stop him. “My family’s in a business—they all own a sign company where my dad and his three brothers all ran the business, and, of course, all my cousins and all my brothers and sisters worked there, and it was kind of assumed that that’s what I would do, you know, just follow in the footsteps. I was kind of the black sheep of the family...everybody else went and worked in the family business, and I went off to college and ended up playing soccer.”

In Wichita Falls, Texas, Waldrum attended Midwestern State University. His family attended most of his games there after realizing what soccer meant to Waldrum and how realistic his dream was. (The caliber of its reality wasn’t realized until colleges began offering scholarships.) Until that point, they believed that it was just something he was doing to pass the time, and they felt that eventually he would work in the family business. He graduated from Midwestern State University in 1981 with a major in physical education and a minor in political science.

The experiences Waldrum had at youth, high school, and college levels in soccer would help him enter a profession that was in no way like his family’s sign-making business. After college, he went on to play professionally for the Los Angeles Skyhawks and the Indianapolis Daredevils, both teams in the American Soccer League. He then went on to coach others in the sport he loves. Waldrum explained that his high school coach influenced him greatly:

“My high school coach, to me was—second to my father—was probably the most influential man in my life. His name was Simon Sanchez. And he kind of—he was one I’d say I kind of modeled myself on. And I hope at the end of my career that my kids who played for me think as much of me as I did of him....I would say he was my idol, as far as a coach, growing up.”

While his high school coach was the most influential on Waldrum, he stated that his youth coaches were the ones who really taught him the game and got him involved in it. He said that one of his coaches brought the sport to Irving, TX from his home country of Sweden and got Waldrum “really excited to [play].” Another of his coaches, from Mexico, directed his development in the sport from his earliest days playing through high school.

The influence Waldrum’s coaches had on him is now becoming the influence that Waldrum has had on the teams he coached, and still coaches. He coached in his hometown at MacArthur High School, where his team went to three state championship games, one of which they won. He then went to coach the men’s teams at Austin College and Texas Wesleyan. From there, in 1989, he began coaching both men and women at Tulsa. In 1995, he took a job at Baylor where he coached women only, something he says he has never regretted. Deciding to quit coaching men altogether was difficult, but the coaching transition from men to women was not a difficult task for him because he coaches women no differently than he coached the men:

“What I’ve always believed in is that...it’s still soccer, whether it’s men or women....You coach the same way you’ve always coached. Now, there’s some differences in team chemistry and the way you handle players a little bit, but I think for the most part...the sport’s the same way.”

Coaching women seems to fit his particular style of coaching better. He stated that, “In fact, I’ve found that what makes me love coaching women more than I did the men is that the women are so coachable. They’re so hungry for information and they’re so eager to please and to do things correctly. I think sometimes at the college level, the male players already kind of thing they know it all, that they have all the answers. You don’t find that with the women. It was something that was real refreshing to me.”

He then explained his particular coaching style: “With being a teacher and my degree in education, I think my style would be more of a teaching mode. It’s not a Vince Lombardi, it’s not the yelling...it’s not demeaning players, we don’t use foul language, [and] it’s not one of those ‘get in your face to make you do what we want you to do’ [styles]. I think it’s more of a teaching environment for our kids, and you do that work during the week and my belief is that, on the weekends, when the games are being played...simply, game time is for the players. You’ve done all your work as coach during the week....We have to prepare them for the decisions they make on the field.”

This coaching style and attitude have helped him lead his 2004 and 2010 teams at Notre Dame to win National Championships. The 2004 win will always be a memorable one for him because he won it with friends and family on his staff.

“The [championship] in 2004 was really special because one of my assistant coaches was Alvin Alexander, who was my very best friend. He and I grew up playing club soccer against each other, and then we went to college together, so we’ve been lifelong friends. And Dawn Greathouse was a former player of mine on staff, and of course Ben Waldrum, my son, who was on staff as well. So to win a National Championship—your first one—with your son, with your best friend, and with a former player on staff was pretty cool.”

He relived the National Championship win in 2010 after guiding his team through considerably one of the hardest schedules in NCAA Women’s Soccer. He shared that shortly after the game on the way back to Notre Dame from the Championship game, he walked to the back of their charter plane where, in the midst of the girls reliving the game, Melissa Henderson, Jessica Schuveiller, and Courtney Barg were already talking about repeating the season and going for yet another win. Waldrum said that getting to the Final Four is one of the team’s main goals for the 2011 Season. Another National Championship win is also on that list of goals, and he has faith that the team can repeat history.

Amongst his numerous awards, championships, and other achievements, Randy Waldrum remains humble. He is a family man to his wife Dianna and son Ben, but he also acts as an almost-father to the girls he coaches. He takes pride in any awards they win, whether academically or athletically and is glad to see his players graduate and lead successful, happy lives. Before I spoke to Coach Waldrum, I had heard several good things about him. Never did I doubt them, but until I had actually spoken to him, it didn’t register. His welcoming attitude, kind voice, genuine care for others, selflessness, and humility make him a likeable person and the beloved, successful Notre Dame coach he’s known to be.

Other information obtained from http://www.und.com/sports/w-soccer/mtt/waldrum_randy00.html

Numbers

(Caution: This is an un-proofread (<--funny-looking word) post. Do not mock for bad spelling and/or grammar. It's late and I can only do so much.)

Numbers. They control us. Your age (a number) either allows or prevents certain privileges and/or rights throughout our lifetimes.

Can't order off of the Kids' Menu after age 12. Can't drive or date until you're 16. Can't see an R-Rated movie until you're 17. You can vote when you're 18. You can (legally) drink when you're 21. You can start getting Senior Discounts when you're 65. Et cetera, et cetera.

What's your address? Do you have the time? What's your date of birth? Numbers? Of course they are! So is your phone NUMBER. Social security NUMBER. Lottery ticket NUMBERS. Locker NUMBER. Class Room NUMBER. NUMBERS! NUMBERS! NUMBERS!

(Side thought: I just realized why the superlative of "numb" is "more numb" rather than "number." Continuing....)

I like numbers. They are concrete and believable. Scenario:
Two people are arguing. Person A (<--I could have used a number for that, too.) has very reasonable evidence drawn from human logic and maybe some research. Person B, too, has reasonable evidence, but he also has statistics: numbers! Who are you more likely to believe? I don't know who you're going to believe. That's all a matter of preference, but I am much more likely (let's give that a number: 75%) to side with Person B.

I hate numbers. Scenario:
Math class.

Recently, numbers have meant a lot to me. Tonight, for instance, my SAT scores became available. After being disappointed by my ACT score a month ago, I was pretty nervous. And, of course, somehow suspense was built: the scores were supposed to be released on the 26th, but when I went to look it told me to check back on the 28th; also, our internet was down today and I couldn't check my e-mail. I returned home and checked my e-mail and saw a message from College Board: "Your SAT Scores are now available." Crunch! There wasn't actually a crunch, but it sure felt like there was in my gut. I started to shake, opened my account, clicked a link, scrolled down, and there it was. 680 Critical Reading, 650 Mathematics, 690 Writing. Grand Total: 2020. The reason my ACT score was such a let-down was because it was below my goal. My goal for the SAT was a 1970....I GOT IT! That score on top of being named a National High-Achieving Hispanic Scholar means one thing: I'm happy.

2020 is a pretty good number, I'd say. I have 20/20 vision, one of my favorite prime-time news shows is called "20/20," and add this score to the pile. The year 2020 would also be the year I'd earn a medical degree if I were to decide to pursue medicine (but I'm pretty sure I won't).

I'm not the smartest, I'm not the funniest, I'm not the most innovative, I'm not the most athletic, I'm not the prettiest, I'm not the best musician, I'm not the nicest, but I can guarantee that I am the best Anna Sophia Gonzalez out there.

As a reader, you're probably tired of hearing about my over-achiever aspirations and hopes for the future, so here's some random "fun" stuff to read.

I read "I Am America (and So Can You!)" by Stephen Colbert and LOVED IT! It was probably the funniest book I've ever read. I also read "Freakonomics" by Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner, and plan to read the follow-up. (I've been reading a lot of Stephen/Steven books lately, haven't I?) I also read a required novel for school beginning to end. It was "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien. It was wonderful!

I've also seen plenty of movies in the last month.
Rio: Adorable. Great music. I love Jesse Eisenberg, even if only his voice is present.
Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides: Eh. Waste of money.
Something Borrowed: Cute, atypical chick-flick. One question: WHAT ABOUT JOHN KRASINSKI?!
The Hangover Part II: Hilarious film, but you should seek mental and emotional preparation before viewing.
Kung Fu Panda 2: In the words of the Dragon Warrior, himself: "Did someone say AWESOME?!"
Frost/Nixon: Hell yes!
It's Complicated: I love Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin, but I'll admit that I did rent it just because John Krasinski was in it. (I <3 John!)

Here's a worse event in my life...MY IPOD BROKE!!! How I'm still walking and breathing (even though I'm sitting down at this moment), I do not know. I need a new iPod A.S.A.P. Music ties for 2nd place in the "Necessities for Anna's Survival" list. Number 1 is oxygen and tied with music for 2nd is water. It's that important to me.

I've also taken the piano back up, but I'm doing it stag. No teachers this time. I am the teacher.

Okay, I think that's about it. This web-page hopes to see you next time I have something to say.

Bon Voyage!

Living in the Moment: Ian Williams

Although he’s been preparing himself for this week since he first stepped on a football field his freshman year of high school, Ian Williams lives in the moment. He takes advantage of opportunities as they come to him and makes the best of what he’s given.

4 years ago, he realized that Notre Dame was the best fit for him as a school: “It kind of grew on me. The place, the guys on the team, the coaches, and the student body just grew on me. I just thought that it was the right place for me, the right fit for me, at that time.”

After entering the university, many of his teammates decided to major in business or liberal arts and science. Williams decided to major in Film, Television, and Theatre. When asked why he came to that decision, Ian stated, “I was interested in TV and film...I watched a lot of TV, I watched a lot of movies. It was just interesting to find out what goes into making a TV series or movie. Really, it’s what got me interested.”

His future may be in the NFL, but his past as a Notre Dame Football player shaped him and will remain a part of him. His favorite memory was the beginning of his career at the University: “I’ll probably say my freshman year: the first time I went in the tunnel and played Georgia Tech. You never expect to see a spectacle like that. It was just great to be in that moment—running through the tunnel...going out into the stadium with the people cheering, it was just a crazy scene, and that was one of the things I’ll never forget.” Now, he looks back in support of his former teammates: “I hope they make it to the National Championship. That’s their goal, and, as an alumnus now, that’s what I want to see them do. I want them to win. I’m going to do everything I can to support the guys....I just hope they grow up and make sure they get their degrees, and just play great football. I’m a fan now, so that’s all I can ask for.” He says that he’ll miss his teammates, the camaraderie, and the friendships he’s made at Notre Dame the most. 5 words he chose to describe his career at Notre Dame were, “short, amazing, impactful, memories, and friendships.” I asked him who he thinks will step up and surprise the fans this coming season. “Louis Nix. He’s one of the guys who’s been working hard for the past year and a half to get to where he is now. He and Sean Cwynar are really going to be a great duo. I really think Louis Nix will have a great impact on the season.” He also has faith in esteemed freshman recruit, Aaron Lynch. “Aaron is going to be a great player. I got to see him a little bit in practice and in the spring game, and he made a lot of plays. He’s young, he’s fresh out of high school, so coming out this spring he was ready to jump right in and get his feet wet, you know? I don’t know what Coach Elston or Coach Turner has for him in the fall but I know Coach Diaco and the whole defensive staff will try and get him out on the field.”

Speaking of coaches...

I asked him if it was tough playing under Coach Charlie Weis for three years and then having to adapt to Coach Brian Kelly’s style for his last year at Notre Dame. “It was kind of tough to get used to the coaching change. I think Coach Kelly and the new staff came in with a great mentality. Going back, I don’t regret losing Coach Weis, because he was a great coach—he taught us a lot of things and really brought the team together—but Coach Kelly came in and took us and taught us the same things, but we were older now and he made sure we had a good season.”

After a Sun Bowl victory on December 31, 2010 under Coach Kelly (one of only two Notre Dame coaches to lead the Irish to a Bowl Game and a victory in his first year), Williams played in the Under Armour ™ Senior Bowl for the North Team on January 29, 2011. With 5 tackles (4 of which were solo) and 1 sack, Williams led a very impressive performance. Opinions about the formerly underappreciated nose guard went from apathetic to raving instantly. “It was a great experience for me. I got to go up against guys who were just as big, just as strong, and just as fast as me, so it gave me a really good chance to go out there and see what the level of competition was outside of Notre Dame. It was a great moment to be out there and have fun with the guys, talk with the guys, and be able to meet coaches and scouts. It was just a crazy week that just went by so fast....I wish I could go back and play it all over, but I learned a lot from the Senior Bowl. It helped me grow as a player and as a person and to help myself be more humble.”

His performance in the Senior Bowl could have an effect on the happenings later this week, during the NFL Draft. “I’ll just say that I’m just waiting to get my name called. I don’t know if it’ll be on Friday or Saturday, but I’m just excited to live in the moment. My childhood dreams will finally be here. They’re just a couple days away, so I’ll just be down in Orlando waiting with my family and friends, just waiting for that phone call from a team and realize my dreams.” What does he believe is his best asset to a team looking to draft him? “My playmaking skills. I think my instincts to play the game are second to none....For every team in the league, the first thing they want to do is stop the line, and I think that’s my strong suit.” He started preparing himself for this week in his freshman year of high school, when he began football. He realized the draft was his dream—and it became his mother’s dream as well. He lists her as his role model: “She’s done a lot for me. She’s struggled for me. I’ve seen her do the best she can. She taught me everything I know, and who I am is who she’s brought me up to be, so that’s the lady I look up to.”
While Williams looks up to his mother, he realizes that others look up to him. He got to meet some of his fans on the weekend of the Blue-Gold Game and expressed his thoughts about it. “It was great to meet a lot of the people. I try to be as nice as possible to the fans because without them, the sport I love wouldn’t be so popular, so I try to pay my respects to them, sign autographs, and say hi to the kids. It’s just a great experience to meet a kid and make his day and hear him say, ‘I met Ian Williams!’ or, ‘I met Kerry Neal!’ or, ‘Robert Hughes!’...things like that. You know, it’s crazy to think that little kids grew up thinking that they want to be you one day.”

Some of the fans he met belong to The New Notre Dame Nation, and he noticed the positive impact that TNNDN had on himself and the team. “They’re just a great group of people who try to be positive about Irish sports and being a former athlete for the Irish now, I know that’s to a great advantage because there’s too many fans out there that are negative against us.” He realizes that the negativity is unhealthy for young recruits: “The kids who are 17, 18 years old don’t need that at the time. There’s too much already going on with school and football and social life, family, and I think The New Notre Dame Nation’s starting to be a really positive influence for them and my former teammates.”

In a few days, Williams will be taking his experiences as a Fighting Irish to the NFL. What city he’ll be taking them to is unknown still, but he will maintain the support of the Irish fans around the country. He lived high school in the moment, college in the moment, and, soon, he’ll be living his ultimate dreams in the moment. It’s who Ian Williams is.

Interview performed on April 25, 2011.

Nervous

I'm very nervous right now. In 11 minutes, my ACT scores might be released. In about 12 hours, I will be interviewing Ian Williams, former Nose Guard at Notre Dame. Thoughts on this?

Oh my God. What if my scores are bad? What if they're really good? What if they're just okay? What if the interview goes sour? What if it goes really well? What if, what if, what if?

Also, what if I'm just confusing excitement for nervousness? They feel basically the same--butterflies in your stomach, foot tapping incessantly, thoughts racing through your brain. How am I supposed to tell them apart? Maybe I'm not supposed to. Maybe they're always supposed to go hand-in-hand. Think about it: every good situation has potential for bad and vice versa.

Now, everyone keeps telling me, "You deserve it," about the interview. Well what did I do to deserve it? Am I really that outstanding of a person? I'm 17 years old and have had no formal training in journalism. Granted, it is my passion, but, let me repeat, I am not trained in it. What makes me so special?

This is another reason that @TNNDN (www.thenewndnation.com) is such a wonderful organization. They've given me this opportunity. I've met amazing people and opened so many doors for myself. It is truly a universal key to chances. Now I just need to reach out and grab those chances while they're in my reach, and believe me, I'm doing that as much as I can.

A New Kind of Home

Lots has happened since the last time I posted, and seeing as that was almost a month ago, lots should have happened.

I took my ACT, and it was not nearly as bad as I expected. Did I score #pancakeorbust (inside-ish joke)? I sure hope I did. The worst section, by far, was the science section. Graphs are easy to read, but as the numbers got higher, the graphs became more complex and took more time to figure out. I did, however, finish the dreaded 60-in-60 math section and the reading and writing sections. Now all I can do is wait for my scores and hope I did as well as I feel.

We moved Mema into an assisted living center. My Mema is the reason that Notre Dame means so much to me and my biggest hope is that she can see me get accepted into the University. When she moved from the house my Dad grew up in to her duplex where she's been for 8 years, everyone had a hard time saying goodbye to that house. But moving her out of her duplex into an old-folks home was even harder; I could tell by the look her eyes and disparity written on her face that she would never feel at home in her new home. When we went to visit her, I couldn't even talk because I was afraid my voice would crack under the emotion. My eyes were on the verge of tears. My head was turned down with the bill of my baseball cap hiding them. I had a knot in my stomach like I've never felt before. As we slowly walked down the hallways of the place as she showed us around, I thought to myself, "This is the last place she'll live." Her last walls will be an awful shade of taupe. Her last carpet will be green and maroon. I also knew that when she said goodbye to her home, I was saying goodbye to all those Thanksgivings, Christmases, and Birthday celebrations. All those Notre Dame games where we saw touchdowns and tackles; where I witnessed her tears during the "Alma Mater" after the game. It broke my heart to say goodbye to such fond memories that shaped me so. Since they've been evicted from their physical home, they'll have to take shelter in my mind and in my heart. I love you, Mema. Please stay strong for us.

To her, I send the Irish blessing:
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Rockne Memorial

These photos were taken at the 80th Anniversary Commemoration of the Knute Rockne Crash Site located in Bazaar, Kansas. I can safely say that I have never seen so many Notre Dame fans gathered in one place (because I haven't yet been to South Bend). Nils Rockne (Knute's grandson, seen speaking in the second to last photo), Mary Rattenbury (the director of the Rockne Heritage Fund), and many esteemed alumni were in attendance. Jack Swarbrick wrote a letter expressing his gratitude for everyone's attendance and hard work and also his apologies for not being able to attend. The ceremony was beautiful and very moving. Set upon the backdrop of the golden Flint Hills and a clear, blue sky, the ceremony had a wonderful Irish feel to it, even down to the colors of the setting. A few remarked that Rockne planned it. A wreath provided by the Notre Dame Athletic Department (pictured) was placed on the site by a relative of one of the 8 men killed in the crash. At 10:48, the time of the crash, a home-made plane (pictured) flew over the site. The ceremony was even closed with an Irish Blessing and the singing of the Fight Song and "Notre Dame, Our Mother." I, personally, having not yet been to a game at Notre Dame Stadium, felt as if that was my initiation into something that means more to me than I currently realize. It increased my already profound desire to attend the University. I am so very glad I spent the hour-and-a-half drive out to something so touching.

I apologize for the less-than-perfect quality of these photos. My vantage point was not, let's just say, to much advantage and they requested that minimal pictures be taken during the ceremony, but I sneaked a few in just for you.