T, AND NEVER QUIT! THE SPORTS ISSUE / HUSTLE, HIT HE SPORTS ISSUE / HUSTLE, HIT, AND NEVER QUIT! T
USTLE, HIT, AND NEVER QUIT! THE SPORTS ISSUE / H S ISSUE / HUSTLE, HIT, AND NEVER QUIT! THE SPORT
T, AND NEVER QUIT! THE SPORTS ISSUE / HUSTLE, HIT THE SPORTS ISSUE / HUSTLE, HIT, AND NEVER QUIT! T
HUSTLE, HIT, AND NEVER QUIT! THE SPORTS ISSUE / H TS ISSUE / HUSTLE, HIT, AND NEVER QUIT! THE SPORT
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Table of Contents
Varsity Soccer Self-Hatred Clare Newman
9 THIS IS A POEM ABOUT A BOY . . . Summer Bordon
10 Child Allison Cottrell
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16
Chan Htoo Sang
Lucille Morel
Play Time
Playing field
19 Against Beer Die Zoe Fruchter
21 LET’S GET DOWN TO BIZNESS MAISY DODGE KILEY EICHELBERGER
26 THREE HELLFIRE CROSS COUNTRY SPEECHES
23 NEW DIE RULES JACOB SCHNEYER
JOHN OSLE
HEY TEAM, It’s been a wild season. A real whirlwind. We did good out there, Squirrels. Won some battles. Lost a few too, but who’s counting? Not us. That’s our intern’s job. According to them, we had to “jump a few hurdles this season, to say the least.” The exorbitant union-busting lawyers from Hell hurdle. The 2019-2020 3.75% annual tuition increase hurdle. The Associate Director of Student Activities (SAD) hurdle. The NCAA bylaw 12.1.5.1 hurdle (look it up). The KDIC 88.5 FM being non-operational due to administrative bullshit hurdle. The extremely garbage Wi-Fi all semester hurdle. One might be tempted to call this the semester of hurdles, though of course, calling it that would mean ignoring all the gains we’ve made jumping those hurdles. Look at your quads! Your calves! Happy hamstrings! Glutes galore! We got a record number of student initiatives proposed. We got all those pre-professional communities at the CLS. We got free water at the grille (back). We got Relish salmon wellingtons at Winter Waltz. We got our first snow day in thirty years. We got the Husk. And of course, we lost Bob’s and Lyle’s, but we could easily build 10-12 Bob’s/Lyle’s-esque food and drink establishments in the Husk, complete with rusty panini makers and glitchy sound systems, if we put our minds to it.
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS
Heck, if we put our minds to it–all our minds– we could do anything. Time and time again this season, we’ve shown that coming together as a squad just takes a little bit of grit. Look at the whole beer die situation (die-gate, if you will). We had some passionate arguments from both sides of the table, a couple of tasteless comments online. But eventually, we all came together as a team to get incredibly wasted in the same small, dirty houses on High Street. A victory for good coaching! And on the night of Gumoo$e, all of campus indeed gathered at 933 High. Some of
us thrashed around to “Mo Bamba,” some of us millly rocked to Carly Rae’s B-sides, but ALL OF US got slizzard to trail-blazing Asian American supergroup Far East Movement’s hit 2011 single, “Like a G6.” And of course, we cannot forget how valiantly we fought as a student body for the creation of a student union to include all our workers. Even when the administration weaponizes the Trump Administration’s NLRB to crush student efforts to organize, they can’t take away our solidarity. We’re a team. No matter what. If there’s anything we Grinnell students know, it’s that binaries suck. Maybe the win-lose binary is one we should leave in 2018. Maybe the REAL sports is the FRIENDS we made along the way!!! Or maybe the real sports is your ever-present self-doubt and anxiety. Either way, you did good, team. You did real good. Take a knee, chug some gatorade, rail a line of protein powder, and enjoy this issue—you deserve it. Stay Sporty, Stay Sticky, Vivian Cheslack, Steven Duong, Nicole Rosengurt, Anna Tuchin, Takshil Sachdev
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Varsity Soccer SelfHatred (a sad gay sports poem)
CLARE NEWMAN ‘22
Your hands were always more capable than mine Calloused. Catching. Knuckles cracking in the cold. Your legs too, stronger, like you had iron moving beneath your skin instead of sinew Copper waterfall ponytail swinging like a hypnotist’s pendulum while we run a lap My lungs are burning, smoldering, a freezing flaming fire starting from the bottom up I can feel every fiber from my shoulders to my socks screaming and choking Stopping isn’t possible, not if I couldn’t see your arms moving beneath your jersey, Your cleated feet making soft heavy thumps on the grass Your thighs slow, slow, and stop. I stop, heaving breaths in the frozen November air I try not to watch your throat work, swallowing gulping water from the mouth of a bottle You catch me looking anyways, ever-present scowl right above your strong-as-always chin I look down at my own legs, too weak to be useful, too scarred up to be pretty You, the picture of athleticism, sturdy stocky body of a starting player Me, writing this sad gay poem about you in my head while sitting on the bench
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Lydia James ‘19
O green eyes, our center of mass somewhere in those flyover states I cannot name or touch, land of no truths we orbit, debris dragging fingers through my neighborhood, glass bottles and trains to nowhere, I never turn the light on, I always leave my lights on, hoping you catch their gleam in your green eyes.
This is a poem about a boy I went to a baseball game with and also Physics which is relevant to sports Summer Bordon ‘22
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CHILD Allison Cottrell ‘21
I am lost. “How?” You might ask. Or, “Where? Do you need
chunk of my life has been devoted to the art of Knowing Where I Am.
assistance?”
It hasn’t gone very well.
Or, simply “I don’t care.” This might be accom-
In Eighth grade cross country, I led a group of
panied by a slight shrug of the left shoulder, a
confused twelve-year-olds astray by never turn-
disdainful twitch of a nostril, or a swift retreat
ing. I went out on the run, gradually lost sight of
into your previously undisturbed state.
the group in front of me and went straight and
I am going to ignore that last reaction, though valid, and answer the first in a grand display of narcissism laced with a hidden cry for help. So, how am I lost?
straight and straight again as if the school was both behind and in front of me. A group of small seventh graders caught up while I stopped and stewed in panic. They mistook me for a guide sent from the heavens and trailed
Emotionally? Spiritually? Under papers with tiny
after me like a group of ducklings following a
scratches that many perceive as letters, words, or
Roomba on the fritz. After a few fruitless miles, I
fear?
gave up and stopped at an unexpected haven for
These answers might be true at times, though my
the lost, an Office Max.
usual state is a simple one. I am physically lost.
We wandered around the store searching for the
Confused by my surroundings. Unknown to my
time to see just how lost we were before realizing
atmosphere. Making eye contact with unknowing
all the products were demos with a myriad of
passerbys, wondering if they see my pupils dilat-
different yet still incorrect times. We then used
ing in fear. Whatever you want to call it, a large
a kind and confused employee’s phone to call
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someone to drive us back to the middle school. The Seventh graders didn’t trust me after that. Arriving at college last year, I feared the worst. The two block by three block stretch of land seemed a vast kingdom akin to the drawings at the beginnings of fantasy novels. I now have a folder of pictures on my phone with maps--of the campus, of Noyce--and I consult them more than I should as a second-year student.
and a full water bottle because if I can’t find the classroom, I will just keep filling up my water bottle to look busy. The truth was that there was a typo, and I found the classroom with time to spare. There was no reason to be nervous. No need to scour the halls. But, scour the halls I will. When I was learning to drive, my mother would ask me what way I “felt was right” when
I love these maps though, and I’ve come to rely
I approached familiar turns. “I don’t know,” I
on them with a small portion of my soul. With
responded, because I didn’t. I would have had
every new Noyce classroom I have to find, I look
more luck flipping a coin just to appease the
up the map online and find the room to figure out
angry cars gathering around my stagnant one.
the best route and scope out the nearby bathrooms.
To answer an earlier, self-addressed question, no, I do not need assistance. I am lost, that’s true. I
But then, last week, the dreaded day came. I
should probably get where I want to go, indeed.
could sense it lurking behind me, sending shivers
Would some help probably get me there faster?
down my spine that, on second thought, might be
Definitely. But, I once attended an oddly creepy
Noyce’s extreme air conditioning I aggressively
“Dora the Explorer” live performance. Like her, I
try to pretend isn’t there.
enjoy my maps, at least more than I enjoy failing
The new room number just wasn’t on the map. It didn’t exist.
at small-talk interactions. At least maps are quiet while they judge you.
I sat in my bed and scoured small, blurry 1200 hallway on my dying phone. I could feel it laughing at me from somewhere. The room, that is, laughing at the confused adult child that would soon wander the halls with a frantic expression
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PLAY TIME
Chan Htoo Sang ‘21 13
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PLAYING FIELD Lucille Morel ‘22
I.
In the field the babies played catch and the sun waxed like arsonflames Overhead. As it swam through blue, The ball took a piece of the sky with it, Soaring, and dragging, Like a fishing net collecting its bounty. All things spun when war donned his pale leaves. To meet the battle cry, Many bodies, void but for their form Collected in the basin of Earth.
II. Me, I’ve seen the heart of death Its pulpy hand clenching, and unclenching Seducing me, lulling me, so that I never could Quite turn away from its latticed, night-like face.
When I sang, if I sang, Like a fish in the water Like a snare in a line It was to revel in the simplicity shed there Skins falling.
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III. The ball grows In a pulse, in bee stings lapped up In streams – Of golden bodies borne from virgin hearts Like death’s Who lay untouched Lay tempting us; I have seen it.
IV. I was born from the bodies of fear and desire Two figures lay strapped to the chest, One Godlike, one cowering Each loving the other. As we spun Space became the primal need
One sank his teeth into the other’s left earlobe. The pig’s blood ran like steam. And there it was: My life.
And as I hit ground, I thought; How awful to die in the channel: Crimson red, overflowing The smallness, passing you through Passing through you The whistles Of bullets.
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EE
IEDIE D E
EDIEDI DI
R B EE R
ERBEE IE D I E
BE
ED
EERBE B R
IE D I E
BE EERBE B R
R B EE R
EDIEDI DI IEDIE D E
ED
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BEERB R E DIEDI E DI
E DIEDI I D BEERB R E
ERBEE
AGAINST
BEER DIE BY Zoe Fruchter ‘21
If you attend Grinnell College and have ventured outside of your dorm room, even just to go to the bathroom, you have probably encountered a game of beer die. Beer die, for the woefully uninitiated, is a beer-based drinking game played amongst four individuals wherein teams of two are seated at opposite ends of a folding table, each player with a cup of beer in front of them. The four players then take turns throwing a die in the air, with certain restrictions on the manner and height of the toss, and try to sink it in the opposing teams cups (a splash), or bounce the die in such a way that the opposing team is unable to catch it. There are more rules but suffice it to say the game is simple enough to pick up within a few minutes but complex enough to require a degree of practice.
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Die is extremely popular at Grinnell College,
in a gentlemanly manner. Although women are
particularly among its male, somewhat athlet-
of course allowed to play, the invocation of this
ically inclined members. The typical beer die
phrase symbolizes the fact that ultimately the
scene includes four men gathered around the
game is for the boys, the bros, who gather in any
table, with miscellaneous women lounged on
of their respective rooms any time from 11 am on
chairs surrounding the central game. The spatial
a Sunday to 10:30 pm on a Tuesday to indulge in
relationships of the dorm room within which the
their favorite past time.
game is set echo the relative social capital of the gathering: die and its players are central, take up the most room, and define the nature of the hang; women are peripheral, unnecessary to the game itself but add side interest, background noise, and sexual credibility to the central activity. Beer die can be played among only four guys, but is often defined by spectatorship, that the feat is somehow impressive enough to merit an audience.
Next, the mediocrity. Beer die inherently professes to exceed more simple and athletic games such as pong or rage cage due to its slightly more complex rule system and seated positioning. With die, players elevate themselves above the jock-savage archetype of the frat guy, only brawn no brains, to which many die-playing Grinnell boys would profess themselves superior. Yet, even if you accept that reasoning, beer die doesn’t actually have any superiority culturally, personal-
And within this gendered power dynamic, lies
ly, or intellectually to the games enjoyed by frats
the truth of the game: that beer die is the gamifi-
everywhere. By its nature, die precludes substan-
cation of male mediocrity (the normalization in
tive conversations, unstructured interaction, or
society of accepting mediocrity from men while
creative activities—allowing men to avoid any
allowing them to maintain their position of social
effort to be interpersonally interesting or get out
dominance). There are two components to this
of their masculine comfort zone.
thesis: the essentially male nature of beer die and the mediocrity it emblematizes.
And thus men gain the benefit of dominating weekend activity without actually having to
First, the male nature. This part is easy; beer
contribute anything. This is male mediocrity in
die enthusiasts will often inform you that the
action. This is beer die.
game is “a gentleman’s game,” in that there are an abundance of rules that should be respected,
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DISCLAIMER: We would like to acknowledge that we speak from our own personal experience and did not write this to devalue the experiences of others in any way. We would like to add our perspective, but not remove or downplay anyone else’s, whether it be similar or different from our own.
Let’s Get down to
Bizness BY Kiley Eichelberger ‘19 Maisy Dodge ‘19
Beer die lore states that the first toss took place in 1972 at the University of Maine. Since then, this beloved pastime has made its way across the country and eventually settled in the Iowa prairie. Here at Grinnell College, you can find dice being tossed and bizths being drank on almost any day of the week. Students at Grinnell are drawn to this unique game for its complex rules and skillful nature. However, given the amounts of alcohol consumed during some games and the tradition of the game on many men’s sports team, females may feel unwelcome at the table. This has led people to view die as a male-dominated and even, exclusionary game. However, our experience as female die players has been quite different.
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Just because beer die has been a male dominated
like adornments on the outside of a room while
space in the past does not mean that it continues
die is being played by men at the center. Instead,
to be one. In recent years, the number of female
we are enjoying the company of our friends and
die players has grown. Female players are now
view spectators and players as equally import-
participating in die league in record numbers,
ant members of the environment. When die no
and there is no reason to think these trends will
longer fits the setting, people commonly finish
falter. While we may still be comparatively few,
up games and switch to activities that can accom-
we, as female die players, make up an important
modate larger groups of people (i.e. rage cage,
part of the die community.
dancing).
As first years, the die table, surrounding by older
In addition to spending time with our peers, beer
students, was intimating. But when we expressed
die has provided us the opportunity to meet new
interest in the game to our male friends, we were
people. We’ve met some of our closest friends
met with excitement and acceptance, and we
on campus from across a die table. While some
continue to witness this. Most players, male and
view die as an exclusionary force on campus, we
female, are eager to share rules and techniques
view it as a unifying one, bringing people togeth-
with newcomers. Now as seniors, we seek out
er around a common activity. For spectators
opportunities to welcome others just as we were
and players alike, the game is primarily a social
welcomed.
one and provides a unique opportunity to talk
We see spectating, like the game itself, as an inclusive event. One’s experience with die can be
to people beyond your immediate social circle, outside of academic spaces.
defined by the answer to one simple question:
Finally, and possibly most importantly, we think
Do you enjoy watching the game? The nature of
beer die is fun. We play because beer or water,
the game allows a maximum of four people while
standing or sitting, soft or hard biz, casual or
others watch and wait their turn. If you enjoy
serious, male or female—beer die here at Grinnell
watching the game then even your time off the
College is what we make it.
table will be pleasurable. We view this system as a positive reality of the game, rather than a stagnant landscape of joyful players and despondent spectators. Personally, we have never felt
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NEW DIE RULES
Jacob Schneyer ‘21
Reading Zoe Fruchter’s now infamous piece on Beer Die culture at Grinnell inspired me to redesign Die as a game. Zoe’s analysis insightfully identified the ways Die operates in the Grinnell social scene to the exclusion of many. But I’m also interested in the ways the structure and play of the game itself contribute to Die’s negative effects. With my own observations and Zoe’s criticisms in mind, I identified a number of problems with Die as a game: 1. Only four people can play at a time 2. It can take a long, long time for a game to finish, and that means it can involve ingesting a huge amount of beer 3. It’s hard to predict how long a game will take, so you might start a game thinking it will be quick and get stuck in a marathon. This also makes it hard to predict how much you’ll have to drink. 4. There’s a lot of downtime and it’s not particularly exciting to watch 5. The rules are byzantine and not written down anywhere, which can be alienating to newcomers However, despite these issues, there’s something great about Die: how fun and satisfying it is to toss, catch, and watch a flying die. So I attempted to create a new game that preserves that core element while solving as much as possible the problems listed above. These rules aren’t a final product and experimentation and tweaking are encouraged. My hope is that these changes will go at least some way towards making a party more fun and inclusive for everyone.
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RULES: 1. Dice, or New Die, or some better name I haven’t come up with yet, is played at a round or square table, with 3 - 6 players. It’s best, but not necessary, to have multiple dice on hand. 2.
The players sit evenly spaced around the table. Each player has a cup containing
one drink in front of them. 3.
On your turn, first you select your “target” by a die roll. How this works depends
on the number of players: a. 3 players: 1-3 on the die means your target is the player to your left. 4-6 is the player to your right b. 4 players: 1-2 is the player to your left. 3-4 is the player across from you. 5-6 is the player to your right c. 5 players: 1-3 is the player two spots to your left. 4-6 is the player two spots to your right (So you won’t be targetting the players directly on your left and right yet) d. 6 players: 1-2 is the player two spots to your left. 3-4 is the player across from you. 5-6 is the player two spots to your right. 4. Once you’ve selected your target, tap the die on the table to get their attention, then toss the die at them: a. The toss follows the same rules as normal Beer Die: the palm must face up, the toss must go at least as high as the table is wide, the die must hit the table, etc. b. If your toss is too short and doesn’t fall off the table, or too long and doesn’t touch the table, or too low, you take a drink c. If you hit your target’s cup, they take a drink d. If the die hits the table and flies off anywhere between the two cups on either side of the target, the target player must catch it. If they don’t, they drink (this is the equivalent of a point in normal Die.)
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e. If the die lands in the target players cup, it’s a splashdown! i. The person who was splashed gets on “redemption toss” back at you. If the die bounces off the table and you fail to catch it (a point in normal die), they don’t have to finish their drink. Otherwise, they do. 5. After your toss, your turn is over. Pass the die to the left and continue. 6. Every time you take a drink, consume about 1/5th of it. When your cup is empty (meaning you had to drink five times or you got splashed), you’re eliminated from the game. 7. As players get eliminated, they move away from the table and other players move so they’re evenly spaced. The last player not to be eliminated wins.
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1
I gave this speech at the LaCross Invitational, where we sent the less-talented half of our team while the better half went to a different meet. Teammates and friends, I have a dire message from the heavens that it is my solemn and unhappy duty to deliver. WE HAVE SINNED! WE ARE DAMNED! We have not taken the blessed communion of ferritin pills, we have not followed the commandments and training schedule that our righteous prophet William Freeman has bestowed upon us, we have not loved the Purple Roo with our whole hearts, we have not loved our teammates as ourselves, we were not truly sorry and WE DID NOT HUMBLY REPENT! Our gluttony has made us bloated, our sloth has made us slow, and our pride, oh, our cursed pride has let us believe that we would be unpunished for our unholy actions! You have only to look around you to see our punishment! While our upright brethren who followed in the way of the light run on the golden pastures of Oberlin, we have been cast into the cursed abyss! And now we must run in the company of those even more wicked than us: heretics, debaucherers, Wisconsinites, low-GPA students, inebriates, and those who worship false mascots! Oh, what suffering has befallen us! We must climb that mountain of death three times, and three times must we run down it! But do not wallow in your woe, friends! For if we take our just punishment with noble hearts and good running form, if we honor this unconsecrated course with our hard-earned sweat, if we pay for every moment of lethargy with aching legs and burning lungs, then our salvation shall be upon us! If you cross that finish line with a pure soul and personal record, then you will be granted entry into the greatest reward a division three cross country runner can receive: The Midwest Conference Championships! Our trials will be great but our reward, oh, our reward transcends comprehension! So come, teammates! Let us rule our suffering!
2
This speech came before the Central College Invitational, which we ran as a workout.
Look above you, men! There’s a storm a-brewin’! Not a storm of thunder piercing the earth, Or of floodwaters drowning the streets, Or of wind picking up men like blades of grass And dashing them upon the ground. No, the storm above us, the storm of this meet, Is really just a couple of dark clouds That look like they could do some damage But only sprinkle a little bit And can only be called a storm by a very loose definition.
This is the trial set before us, men! We must run with patience! And reasonableness! And keep a conservative pace! If we succeed, we’ll only have reached, like, half our potential, And have met very low expectations. But do not rage against the storm, men! Do not yearn for suffering and sacrifice and hard-won victory! For, at the end, we will have technically run a race Without actually doing any work.
And that’s pretty cool too, don’t you think?
3
My latest hellfire speech, which my coach called “Cool, but sort of dark,” came at our last all-team meet of the year: The Midwest Conference Cross Country Championships.
So we’re the underdogs, right?
Aren’t we the scrappy band of rebels standing up to the evil empire? We’ve seen these stories so often that it’s practically an instinct to slide ourselves into the roles of the good guys.
But come on! Stop lying to yourselves! WE ARE THE EVIL EMPIRE!
Because what kind of underdogs have thirty years of conference titles in their locker room? Admit it, we’re the entitled brats, the elitist scum, the low-down worthless arrogant bastards. And damnit, we’re proud of it!
Because here’s the thing: the commoners can’t govern themselves. This race is your divine right, so go on, take it, and crush the unlettered masses under the weight of your glory!
We run under a banner of scarlet and black, of darkness and blood, of plague and suffering and pain and death! None shall question our righteous tyranny!
SYDNEY HOTCHKISS ‘20
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TEAMS
AND
turf
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“
I think sports has given me a greater appreciation for discipline. Something that I really like is that sports make me feel less important. It’s become less important for me to be the person that does everything in a team.
�
Takshil
“
One way sports has changed me is TO know the human body always has more left than your mind thinks it does. Being taught to tap into that is a very valuable skill and I think you can apply it to your mental life as well.
�
A.T.
“
I resonate with being in DHall, because you’re in and out of DHall no matter what else is going on. Eventually you realize you’ve experienced every emotion there is in the DHall at some point: you’ve been upset there, or had fights with friends there, or been really happy, or sloppy, and eventually it all winds up being concentrated. That’s where there’s the most emotional density on campus.
TErran
”
Where
“
I like playing table tennis in the game room. It’s a very nice time, I always come away with fond memories even if I got my ass beat.
”
A.T.
IN grinnelL IS your
turf?
“
in Grinnell you go through difficult things with people who are incredibly close with you. You can really get to know people that you wouldn’t be able to in a larger space. there’s the time to get invested. And that’s why the teammate feeling comes out, in the sense of sticking it through with each other.
”
Takshil
“
It was really interesting for me to try and become a distance runner with a bunch of people for whom that is an important part of their identity, where it was an entirely new part of my identity. And I’m really mediocre at running which is fine because my ego is not attached to running at all.
”
Terran
“
I think Dance is an intersection of a sport and an art form. I think not saying dance is an art negates some of the complexity of other sports. There is something really beautiful about other sports.I think that the beauty and visual appeal is more emphasized in dance. But striving for perfection in any sport, there’s something beautiful that comes through.
”
Ryland
RICK JOHNSON ‘20 TERRAN MOTT ‘20 RYLAND RICH ‘22 TAKSHIL SACHDEV ‘19 A.T. TAMBAY ‘20
guMOO$E What new sport should there be at Grinnell? Bowling Hockey Stack cup but the pyramid one How many cats can u hide in ur room Beer Die Linkedin Bed-raising Frostbite Basketball II Sailing Wiggle knitting Micro-soccer Good financial aid
Sexy capture the flag Curling Snooker Strip poker Foursquare Competitive suffering Gay sex Lunch Bunch Drinner Competitive Discourse Mud wrestling Speed stax on speed Serfdom
Best Team Names The Red Guys 2018 Spring Awakening Cast Bad Squirrels Club Bean Team We Them Bois Smegma Sisters [Grinnell Construction] Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way
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The Caucasians Jennifer Aniston Dream Team Meme Team MOM CAVE! The bees knees Juul-Nation! Wildcats! My 5 big boisterous beautiful sons
Q&A Where is your turf? My brain With the love of my life That place I keep going in my dreams Nowhere ~cyberspace~ Nutrition.grinnell.edu The Pit There is an armchair in my closet that I sit in sometimes
racquetball courts + steam room My bed Bucksbaum Bob’s Math commons The beach Couch There is a sapling planted in the corner of my left aorta and when I’m feeling very small I curl up beneath its leaves for shade and quiet
What sport did you play as a yungling? Football! Poetry Volleyball dance Cricket! Irish step “Microsoccer” PokemonTM the Trading Card Game Digging holes Badminton Volunteer work Debate? Running Musical theater Bad tennis Track, basketball, football, bowling, and tennis
Quidditch Judo Sleeping Figure Skating Sitting on benches Exercise induced asthma I founded a startup Theatre lmao Marching band Dodgeball Praying for my football team Cheerleading Gymnastix Warrior cats Partying Drawing in the dirt of the softball field
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