Hi,
I would like to suggest a forum that would enable users to discuss GAA players, encompassing every sport in the GAA – be it hurling, gaelic football, camogie, ladies football or even handball. GAA players get a lot of interest in the GAA forum, and I feel that the GAA forum alone does not do them enough justice.
Quite honestly, GAA players are among the most talented people of our world. You wouldn’t find Bill Gates or Stephen Hawking scoring a sideline cut form 45 metres out on a windy day in Croke Park, at any rate. But could Joe Canning do it? Why yes, he could. Frankly, I believe if David Hasselhoff can get his own forum, then the great GAA players of our nation (or even New York or London) should have one too.
It is clear from previous posts that a GAA Players Appreciation Forum would benefit users of the GAA forum. This would also help to ease traffic in the GAA forum.
[QUOTE=homerjay2005;61782308]more boobies?[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE=premierstone;61783131]Yes while some may sneer and say you are childish and immature I think we should all just stop and think about it for a second (close your eyes if need be) becasue at the end of the day you can never have too much of the boobies :D
There is a sticky for this already[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE=Mayoegian;61782389]More colour, like GAA pics or something y'know![/QUOTE]
[QUOTE=grenache;61803488]A crush is putting it lightly. More of an obsession!! She's also in love with Joe Canning. Good thing that Joe's got enough of him to go around ;)
*She used to have a thing for Paul Browne, until i convinced her that he is actually not very good at all.
What do they be smoking? :D[/QUOTE]
I don't think this forum should just be dismissed off-hand because of its seeming frivolity and flippant nature. On the contrary, there are several such forums already in existence on boards.ie:
*First and foremost you have the "Legends of the Boards" forum, which caters to discussions on prominent members of the boards community in a similar vein to what the proposed new "Hot GAA players" forum would be used for. The new "Hot GAA players" forum would be used to discuss the appealing aspects of the hot GAA players in a similar way to how a legend of the boards is chosen- except that instead of choosing someone by their wit and prose, the hot GAA players would be chosen due to their flowing locks, majestic skills or perhaps even their chisseled cheekbones and strong muscular arms.
While Boards caters to a broad spectrum of serious topics, ranging from advice on consumer rights to parenting, forums for the purpose of fun have never been shyed away from. Look at "The Cuckoo's Nest," "The Thunderdome," "David Hasselhoff" and "Sunshine, Lollipops & Rainbows" for examples.
I think that while perhaps not being an entirely serious forum, it would add a certain something to boards, providing a haven for those of us who wish to discuss those hurlers or sportmen who enthrall us with their skill and dashing Prince Charming like looks. It is with that statement that I implore you to add your support for this forum.
In case this wasn't enough, I also have a quote from Deise_Girl regarding the proposed forum.
[QUOTE]I think we should have a gaa sub forum to appreciate all the hurlers/footballers, heck even handabllers if anyone knows any. At the end of the day I'm sure every female is fed up of the lack of gaa fellas being discussed on the forum (Joe Canning-Galway and Thomas Ryan-Waterford, I mean come on like! :P) and Im sure its been mentioned in the gaa off topic before about the lack of bewbs and that :P It would benefit everyone and shur if any them gaa sportspeoples ever were to come on boards wouldnt they love to be talked about in such a way. A great way to show we appreciate hot gaa palyers
[/QUOTE]
I really hope that this forum will be seriously considered and will leave a lasting impression on its users.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
carrie's birthday present...
Hurlers at Portumna Pitch
The times were good – in fact, they were very good.
There once was a group of friends. They went by the names of Emma, Carrie, Sarah, Joe, Richie and Dec.
So the lads played hurling, as you do,and the girls watched. The lads were fairly savage at hurling – there was no point denying it. Joe was the talk of the country and Richie and Dec were up and coming stars. Their good looks weren’t bad at all...not bad at all. That’s why they were called good looks, you see. Because they weren’t bad.
But anyway, losing track of things here a bit...So as you do, in this elite group, people started to form couple. First off, there was Dec and Sarah...they were well off, nothing could stop them now as the song goes...
So then there were four...Carrie, Emma, Joe and Richie. Now, Joe and Richie were both fine looking lads, but it had to be admitted, Joe was superior in the looks and hurling department so really Richie didn’t have a hope. Well maybe he did, because only one of the girls could have Joe, so Richie was going to get the leftovers.
Righteo, so anyway, sadly a great friendship was torn to pieces when a fight ensued over just who deserved Joe. Joe was happy out with whatever he got, cool as you like, and Richie watched from a distance.
It was a time of hair pulling, face-slapping and of course...the fishbots. Humanity and friendship was forgotten about in the great Battle for Joe Canning.
It was during a particularly violent fishbot battle that everything changed. The fight was going nowhere, no girl would relinquish...all it needed was a little interference from a third party.
On a hot summer’s day, in the middle of Portumna pitch, Carrie and Emma were fishbotting to the death. Joe and Richie watched from afar – Joe looking very pleased with himself and Richie looking sulky. It was then that he walked past. Him. Wearing a blue t-shirt and a smile that could charm an angry dragon. He carried a hurl, and on it a sliotar was balanced as if it could never fall off.
His name was Thomas. Thomas Ryan.
Carrie took one look at Thomas Ryan...and as they say, they fell in love...
And lived happily ever after, as Thomas broke up with his girlfriend Katie as soon as he saw Carrie...she was a bit upset but like she’ll be grand, she’s only a minor character.
So Emma decided that this was all well and good, left Carrie and Thomas to it and went over to Richie and Joe. She looked at them, and broke the news to Richie. ‘It’s not you, it’s me...well actually it’s Joe but details, details...’
Richie responded with a simple...’Oi, Thomas, will ya gimme Katie’s number...sound.’
And Joe and Emma lived happily ever after.
And that was that. Championship games, meetings in Portumna pitch and post-match celebrations lay in the future..
Twas a grand time to be alive, so it was. No one in Kilkenny’s got anything on these lads ...
Hurlers at Portumna Pitch: The Sequel
Coming out: May 30th 2011
It was supposed to be the end. Everyone was in love, happy...
But you always want what you can’t have.
And what you can’t have is Thomas Ryan.
Happy Birthday Carolineeeeee!!!!
The times were good – in fact, they were very good.
There once was a group of friends. They went by the names of Emma, Carrie, Sarah, Joe, Richie and Dec.
So the lads played hurling, as you do,and the girls watched. The lads were fairly savage at hurling – there was no point denying it. Joe was the talk of the country and Richie and Dec were up and coming stars. Their good looks weren’t bad at all...not bad at all. That’s why they were called good looks, you see. Because they weren’t bad.
But anyway, losing track of things here a bit...So as you do, in this elite group, people started to form couple. First off, there was Dec and Sarah...they were well off, nothing could stop them now as the song goes...
So then there were four...Carrie, Emma, Joe and Richie. Now, Joe and Richie were both fine looking lads, but it had to be admitted, Joe was superior in the looks and hurling department so really Richie didn’t have a hope. Well maybe he did, because only one of the girls could have Joe, so Richie was going to get the leftovers.
Righteo, so anyway, sadly a great friendship was torn to pieces when a fight ensued over just who deserved Joe. Joe was happy out with whatever he got, cool as you like, and Richie watched from a distance.
It was a time of hair pulling, face-slapping and of course...the fishbots. Humanity and friendship was forgotten about in the great Battle for Joe Canning.
It was during a particularly violent fishbot battle that everything changed. The fight was going nowhere, no girl would relinquish...all it needed was a little interference from a third party.
On a hot summer’s day, in the middle of Portumna pitch, Carrie and Emma were fishbotting to the death. Joe and Richie watched from afar – Joe looking very pleased with himself and Richie looking sulky. It was then that he walked past. Him. Wearing a blue t-shirt and a smile that could charm an angry dragon. He carried a hurl, and on it a sliotar was balanced as if it could never fall off.
His name was Thomas. Thomas Ryan.
Carrie took one look at Thomas Ryan...and as they say, they fell in love...
And lived happily ever after, as Thomas broke up with his girlfriend Katie as soon as he saw Carrie...she was a bit upset but like she’ll be grand, she’s only a minor character.
So Emma decided that this was all well and good, left Carrie and Thomas to it and went over to Richie and Joe. She looked at them, and broke the news to Richie. ‘It’s not you, it’s me...well actually it’s Joe but details, details...’
Richie responded with a simple...’Oi, Thomas, will ya gimme Katie’s number...sound.’
And Joe and Emma lived happily ever after.
And that was that. Championship games, meetings in Portumna pitch and post-match celebrations lay in the future..
Twas a grand time to be alive, so it was. No one in Kilkenny’s got anything on these lads ...
Hurlers at Portumna Pitch: The Sequel
Coming out: May 30th 2011
It was supposed to be the end. Everyone was in love, happy...
But you always want what you can’t have.
And what you can’t have is Thomas Ryan.
Happy Birthday Carolineeeeee!!!!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Detention
The bright afternoon sun lit up the sky. It shone through the windows of the room where I was being held against my will. I surveyed the person who was standing between me and my freedom, searching for a moment of weakness. Seconds later, I found one. Her eyes were closed and she was rubbing her temples vigorously, looking like the 'before' person on an ad for stress treatment. It was time for me to make my move.
Hesitantly, I rose my hand into the air and waited impatiently for her to open her eyes. When she did so, her eyes rested on me for a brief second before sweeping through the rest of the room, probably hoping for an excuse to delay our interaction. Feeling slightly offended, I thrust my hand higher into the air. She sighed.
"Yes?" she said in a bored voice.
"I feel sick," I said, putting on a croaky voice and the best brave face I could manage.
"Again?" she asked incredulously. "You can go when you're finished your lines. You must be nearly finished at this stage."
My jaw dropped. How did she expect me to be finished? I had only been there for an hour. To my astonishment a small crowd rose from their seats and presented their work to the teacher. Within a minute, I was one of three left in the room.
With little else to take up my attention, I focused on the clock on the wall. I stared hard at the minute hand, trying to notice it move but even though I stared so hard my vision started to blur, the hand somehow managed to move to its next destination without me ever catching it mid-journey.
"Oi! You!"
"You" could only have referred to me as I was the only one left in the room. I tore my eyes from the clock, wisely coming to the conclusion that it was a magical clock.
"Something wrong?" I asked innocently.
"Aren't you finished yet?" the teacher snapped. "It's only a hundred lines."
"Um, almost," I replied.
"Have you done eighty yet?"
"In or around that," I lied.
She sighed. "How many? Be honest."
"Six," I mumbled.
"Sorry, speak up. I can't hear you. For a minute there, I thought you said six." She chuckled to herself.
"That's what I said," I said, looking at my feet.
Her eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared into her hair. Well, almost.
"What are you waiting for?" she shrieked. "Hurry up, I want to get home by next week if possible."
I felt a faint stab of hope. "Miss, why don't you let me do these at home and then you can go home? It's a win-win situation. Well, maybe a draw-win situation because I'd rather not do the lines at all. But it's not a lose-win situation because that would be if I had to stay here. But that would be a lose-lose situation because you'd have to stay here too."
The teacher cut across my babbling. "If I can't even expect you to do your homework how can I expect you to do this?"
"I told you," I said impatiently, "my dog ate it."
"You don't have a dog."
"How do you know?"
"I rang your mother the last time you used that excuse."
"Oh...well, we only got him on Friday."
"You didn't do your homework on Thursday."
"Did I say Friday? I meant Wednesday."
"What's his name?"
"Erm...Spot."
Silence followed. She was glaring at me, and when she finally spoke she emphasised every syllable.
"You...don't...have...a...dog."
"OK," I croaked and put my head down.
There was silence for a half hour. The teacher was tidying up at last. I looked up hopefully.
"How many?" she asked.
"Twenty," I said proudly.
She sighed exasperatedly. "Why are you so difficult?"
"I'm not difficult," I said indignantly. "I'm misunderstood."
"You threw a rubber at a sub teacher."
"It slipped."
"You set off the fire alarm next week."
"My elbow slipped. Miss, do you think I could go -?"
"No," she snapped before I could finish.
"Why can't I go? Everybody else is allowed," I said.
"Everybody else did a hundred lines," she explained. "Now come on, I'm in no hurry to get home so I'm not letting you off early."
I bit back a witty retort about how she didn't have a life and returned to my punishment work.
Ten minutes and twice as many glances at the clock later she finally gave in.
"Fine, go. But I want them first thing in the morning."
"Oh well you see that might be a problem. Spot is really into chewing things these days. I think he's teething or something but I'm sure he'll grow out of it soon. You know, they grow up so fast these days."
"OUT!"
But I could swear she almost smiled. I obeyed her command and hurried towards my freedom.
Hesitantly, I rose my hand into the air and waited impatiently for her to open her eyes. When she did so, her eyes rested on me for a brief second before sweeping through the rest of the room, probably hoping for an excuse to delay our interaction. Feeling slightly offended, I thrust my hand higher into the air. She sighed.
"Yes?" she said in a bored voice.
"I feel sick," I said, putting on a croaky voice and the best brave face I could manage.
"Again?" she asked incredulously. "You can go when you're finished your lines. You must be nearly finished at this stage."
My jaw dropped. How did she expect me to be finished? I had only been there for an hour. To my astonishment a small crowd rose from their seats and presented their work to the teacher. Within a minute, I was one of three left in the room.
With little else to take up my attention, I focused on the clock on the wall. I stared hard at the minute hand, trying to notice it move but even though I stared so hard my vision started to blur, the hand somehow managed to move to its next destination without me ever catching it mid-journey.
"Oi! You!"
"You" could only have referred to me as I was the only one left in the room. I tore my eyes from the clock, wisely coming to the conclusion that it was a magical clock.
"Something wrong?" I asked innocently.
"Aren't you finished yet?" the teacher snapped. "It's only a hundred lines."
"Um, almost," I replied.
"Have you done eighty yet?"
"In or around that," I lied.
She sighed. "How many? Be honest."
"Six," I mumbled.
"Sorry, speak up. I can't hear you. For a minute there, I thought you said six." She chuckled to herself.
"That's what I said," I said, looking at my feet.
Her eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared into her hair. Well, almost.
"What are you waiting for?" she shrieked. "Hurry up, I want to get home by next week if possible."
I felt a faint stab of hope. "Miss, why don't you let me do these at home and then you can go home? It's a win-win situation. Well, maybe a draw-win situation because I'd rather not do the lines at all. But it's not a lose-win situation because that would be if I had to stay here. But that would be a lose-lose situation because you'd have to stay here too."
The teacher cut across my babbling. "If I can't even expect you to do your homework how can I expect you to do this?"
"I told you," I said impatiently, "my dog ate it."
"You don't have a dog."
"How do you know?"
"I rang your mother the last time you used that excuse."
"Oh...well, we only got him on Friday."
"You didn't do your homework on Thursday."
"Did I say Friday? I meant Wednesday."
"What's his name?"
"Erm...Spot."
Silence followed. She was glaring at me, and when she finally spoke she emphasised every syllable.
"You...don't...have...a...dog."
"OK," I croaked and put my head down.
There was silence for a half hour. The teacher was tidying up at last. I looked up hopefully.
"How many?" she asked.
"Twenty," I said proudly.
She sighed exasperatedly. "Why are you so difficult?"
"I'm not difficult," I said indignantly. "I'm misunderstood."
"You threw a rubber at a sub teacher."
"It slipped."
"You set off the fire alarm next week."
"My elbow slipped. Miss, do you think I could go -?"
"No," she snapped before I could finish.
"Why can't I go? Everybody else is allowed," I said.
"Everybody else did a hundred lines," she explained. "Now come on, I'm in no hurry to get home so I'm not letting you off early."
I bit back a witty retort about how she didn't have a life and returned to my punishment work.
Ten minutes and twice as many glances at the clock later she finally gave in.
"Fine, go. But I want them first thing in the morning."
"Oh well you see that might be a problem. Spot is really into chewing things these days. I think he's teething or something but I'm sure he'll grow out of it soon. You know, they grow up so fast these days."
"OUT!"
But I could swear she almost smiled. I obeyed her command and hurried towards my freedom.
Invisible For A Day
I was standing in a courtyard, surrounded by hundreds of people. I looked around anxiously, trying to find someone I knew to ask what was going on. I was just starting to panic when I noticed my parents. Their backs were turned towards me but there was no doubt it was them. I pushed my way through the crowd until I was right behind my dad.
"Dad!" I cried, reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder. "Dad, what's going on?"
But there was no reply. Confused, I reached over to pull on my mom's sleeve instead, but then I saw that her attention was entirely focused on my baby brother, who was in her arms, clapping his hands and smiling. My parents were captivated by this. I jumped in front of them and clapped my hands too, but their gazes never left my brother.
Dejected, I turned and saw my two older sisters standing in front of me, talking amongst themselves. I tried to get their attention but they ignored me too. What was going on?
Suddenly, everyone in the crowd backed away as one. I tried to follow, but my feet were glued to the ground. I was left standing alone. I opened my mouth to let out a scream to alert someone - anyone - that I was there...
I was woken abruptly by a high-pitched cry. I opened my eyes slowly, as in my mind I separated reality from dreams. Satisfied that the event in the courtyard had never happened, I glanced at my clock. I was annoyed to find that my mom should have woken me up ten minutes ago. I got ready for school at top speed before going downstairs to the kitchen to get some breakfast and to interrogate my mom.
The kitchen was a hive of activity. My brother was in his chair in the corner, screaming at the top of his lungs, while my older sisters sat at the table, bickering.
My mom was taking something out of the microwave. Carrying a bowl and spoon, she walked towards me.
"Mam, why didn't you - ?" I began, but she walked right past me to the baby in the corner.
I sighed and poured out my cereal myself. I sat at the table, thinking I might strike up a conversation with my sisters, but they were too busy fighting over who had broken the pink GHD to acknowledge me.
I glumly munched on my cereal, thinking that I might as well still be in my dream.
I ate quickly, and went upstairs to finish getting ready for school. Despite waking up later, I was the first to finish getting ready and sat outside waiting for the bus to come for five minutes before my sisters joined me. They seemed to have gotten over their fight by joining together in complaining that the black GHD just didn't make their hair straight enough. I was going to point out that both their hair seemed pretty straight to me, but figured it would be a waste of time.
The bus journey was uneventful. I separated from the girls as I got the primary school bus and they got the secondary school bus. I sat on my own, gazing at the window as drops of rain rolled down the windowpane.
I was hoping that my first impression of the day had been wrong as I walked into school. I went into my classroom and made a beeline for my two best friends. That was when I found out that my first impressions were, in fact, correct. They were too busy discussing an adventure centre they'd gone to over the weekend to acknowledge me.
I was starting to feel really depressed at this stage and I was totally sick of trying. I sat down and did my work silently. At break and lunch I kept to myself as my best friends told everyone about their amazing weekend without me.
Things didn't improve when I got home at last. It was just the three of us - my sisters and I - and they were now the best of friends again. They talked amongst themselves as they heated a pizza for dinner while I sat on my own, watching TV.
After dinner, I went to my room to do my homework. At this stage, I was feeling that my voice might just wear away from lack of use.
A while later, my parents arrived home, one after the other. I hurried downstairs to greet them, but they were having a conversation in hushed voices as my sisters cooed over the baby.
I retreated to my bedroom. On my way, I went into the bathroom. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, half-expecting to see nothing but the room but there I was, looking miserable. My lower lip was starting to tremble. If everyone could see me, why did I feel so invisible?
I went to bed, reasoning that the earlier I went to bed, the sooner this day would be over but I couldn't sleep. I listened as the house got quieter. The baby's cries faded away as he fell asleep.
I was surprised when my door opened and my mom flicked on my lightswitch.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," I replied, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light.
"How was your day?" she asked.
"It was..." I began, searching for the right words. "Well, it's over."
My mom looked at me hard, and I knew she understood. She always did... when she tried, that is.
I could tell she was waiting for me to speak, so I did. I told her all about my dream and the terrible day that followed.
"...I just felt...invisible," I finished, "like no one could see me, or if they could that they just didn't care."
My mom sat at the foot of my bed, and spoke in a soft, calm voice that instantly made everything OK.
"I know you don't want to hear this," she said, "but you can't always be the centre of attention. I'm sorry you had to have such a bad day to learn this, but it's all a part of growing up."
"I don't want to be the centre of attention," I protested. "I just want to feel like someone cares."
"We all care," said my mom, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Sometimes we just don't show it as much. Now think - did you keep trying today? Did you make an effort to have a good day?"
I thought about that for a minute.
"No," I admitted. "I just gave up at the start of school."
"There are an awful lot of people in the world," said my mom. "It's easy to fade into the background. But you have to keep trying. If you don't try, you'be already failed."
She got up. "Goodnight," she said, her hand hovering over the lightswitch.
"Goodnight," I replied and lay in the darkness once again.
It had been a bad day, but I had learned from it and tomorrow would be better. Of that, I was sure.
"Dad!" I cried, reaching up and tapping him on the shoulder. "Dad, what's going on?"
But there was no reply. Confused, I reached over to pull on my mom's sleeve instead, but then I saw that her attention was entirely focused on my baby brother, who was in her arms, clapping his hands and smiling. My parents were captivated by this. I jumped in front of them and clapped my hands too, but their gazes never left my brother.
Dejected, I turned and saw my two older sisters standing in front of me, talking amongst themselves. I tried to get their attention but they ignored me too. What was going on?
Suddenly, everyone in the crowd backed away as one. I tried to follow, but my feet were glued to the ground. I was left standing alone. I opened my mouth to let out a scream to alert someone - anyone - that I was there...
I was woken abruptly by a high-pitched cry. I opened my eyes slowly, as in my mind I separated reality from dreams. Satisfied that the event in the courtyard had never happened, I glanced at my clock. I was annoyed to find that my mom should have woken me up ten minutes ago. I got ready for school at top speed before going downstairs to the kitchen to get some breakfast and to interrogate my mom.
The kitchen was a hive of activity. My brother was in his chair in the corner, screaming at the top of his lungs, while my older sisters sat at the table, bickering.
My mom was taking something out of the microwave. Carrying a bowl and spoon, she walked towards me.
"Mam, why didn't you - ?" I began, but she walked right past me to the baby in the corner.
I sighed and poured out my cereal myself. I sat at the table, thinking I might strike up a conversation with my sisters, but they were too busy fighting over who had broken the pink GHD to acknowledge me.
I glumly munched on my cereal, thinking that I might as well still be in my dream.
I ate quickly, and went upstairs to finish getting ready for school. Despite waking up later, I was the first to finish getting ready and sat outside waiting for the bus to come for five minutes before my sisters joined me. They seemed to have gotten over their fight by joining together in complaining that the black GHD just didn't make their hair straight enough. I was going to point out that both their hair seemed pretty straight to me, but figured it would be a waste of time.
The bus journey was uneventful. I separated from the girls as I got the primary school bus and they got the secondary school bus. I sat on my own, gazing at the window as drops of rain rolled down the windowpane.
I was hoping that my first impression of the day had been wrong as I walked into school. I went into my classroom and made a beeline for my two best friends. That was when I found out that my first impressions were, in fact, correct. They were too busy discussing an adventure centre they'd gone to over the weekend to acknowledge me.
I was starting to feel really depressed at this stage and I was totally sick of trying. I sat down and did my work silently. At break and lunch I kept to myself as my best friends told everyone about their amazing weekend without me.
Things didn't improve when I got home at last. It was just the three of us - my sisters and I - and they were now the best of friends again. They talked amongst themselves as they heated a pizza for dinner while I sat on my own, watching TV.
After dinner, I went to my room to do my homework. At this stage, I was feeling that my voice might just wear away from lack of use.
A while later, my parents arrived home, one after the other. I hurried downstairs to greet them, but they were having a conversation in hushed voices as my sisters cooed over the baby.
I retreated to my bedroom. On my way, I went into the bathroom. I stood in front of the full-length mirror, half-expecting to see nothing but the room but there I was, looking miserable. My lower lip was starting to tremble. If everyone could see me, why did I feel so invisible?
I went to bed, reasoning that the earlier I went to bed, the sooner this day would be over but I couldn't sleep. I listened as the house got quieter. The baby's cries faded away as he fell asleep.
I was surprised when my door opened and my mom flicked on my lightswitch.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," I replied, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light.
"How was your day?" she asked.
"It was..." I began, searching for the right words. "Well, it's over."
My mom looked at me hard, and I knew she understood. She always did... when she tried, that is.
I could tell she was waiting for me to speak, so I did. I told her all about my dream and the terrible day that followed.
"...I just felt...invisible," I finished, "like no one could see me, or if they could that they just didn't care."
My mom sat at the foot of my bed, and spoke in a soft, calm voice that instantly made everything OK.
"I know you don't want to hear this," she said, "but you can't always be the centre of attention. I'm sorry you had to have such a bad day to learn this, but it's all a part of growing up."
"I don't want to be the centre of attention," I protested. "I just want to feel like someone cares."
"We all care," said my mom, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Sometimes we just don't show it as much. Now think - did you keep trying today? Did you make an effort to have a good day?"
I thought about that for a minute.
"No," I admitted. "I just gave up at the start of school."
"There are an awful lot of people in the world," said my mom. "It's easy to fade into the background. But you have to keep trying. If you don't try, you'be already failed."
She got up. "Goodnight," she said, her hand hovering over the lightswitch.
"Goodnight," I replied and lay in the darkness once again.
It had been a bad day, but I had learned from it and tomorrow would be better. Of that, I was sure.
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