“A house is made of walls and beams; a home is built with love and dreams.”

People don't understand me.
They don't understand why I seem to be obsessed with sports. I've been streaming the NCAA women's basketball tournament this week and last and I get the same reaction from everyone. They don't get it. Why waste time watching sports? Why wear a Georgia Tech shirt if I’ve never even been to the university? Why care about a program that should have no meaning to me? Now, I feel the need to explain myself.
It started as a child. Making friends was not always the easiest thing for me and I found myself better relating to those older than me. This still rings true today. Most of my friends are older and wiser, mature. Throughout middle school and high school I struggled with cliques. I was in basketball and volleyball. I was a choir nerd and band geek. I was in plays. My grades were good and I was in many school organizations. I had friends in every circle. Especially in high school, I found myself becoming more independent and pulling away from those friends that I felt were bad for me. The friends who had hierarchies within their cliques. The friends who felt the need to dictate who you spent time with and how you lived your life. The friends who would eventually tell lies to my volleyball coach and ruin that high school sport for me. Bullies. I became very guarded, very sheltered and latched onto the things that meant the most to me, basketball and music.

Some of my best memories are of coaching 4^th-8^th grade basketball. I realized fairly quickly that playing and coaching are very different but found a mutual love for both.

While in the Virgin Islands last semester I had a tough time fitting in. I had a great group of friends but it took me a long time to get used to the stares and racial comments. It was a struggle, no doubt. The highlight of my trip was Paradise Jam. I watched the University of the Virgin Islands beat Puerto Rico on the opening night and wasn’t planning on attending any more games. A good friend of mine gave me tickets to see the opening round of women’s games and I had nothing better to do. To my surprise Missouri was in the tournament. Once again, I latched onto basketball as a source of comfort.

While most of my island friends were enjoying the beautiful beach, I was watching legends like Pat Summit and MaChelle Joseph coach. Seeing Robin Pingeton (who has an adorable little boy by the way) trying to build a proud program out of Mizzou. To me, the sound of squeaking shoes and buzzers is more comforting than the sound of waves crashing the shore. Call me crazy, but its familiar and familiarity breeds comfort.

Here in Juneau, most people don’t care about sports and if they do, it’s usually only hockey. I try to be patient when I get questions like “Why is there a big bee on your shirt? I don’t get it.”

COME ON! It’s a Yellow Jacket! *shake my head*

No one up here knows who Pat Summit or Geno Auriemma are. Uconn is not a team but a vehicle, misspelled. The quickest way to get people out of the room is to turn on ESPN.

Once again, I am stressing about this last semester of classes and struggling with being SO far away from my Midwestern roots. Thus, I have streaming basketball up on my laptop while doing my Political Economy homework. Later today I have a Body Pump class and then some more homework to finish up.

Overall, I’m in a great mood. The smell of fresh spring rain is in the air and the NCAA Tournament is getting close to the final four! I have the comfort of basketball to get me through another week and life is grand.

“Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to”-John Ed Pearce