Let Me Introduce Myself

Call me Ishmael....nah, just kidding. Everyone calls me Izzy but my real name is Isolina. I was named after my great grandmother on my Italian side of the family. Isolina means "little island", which is fitting as I was born and raised on the Island of Tasmania. My biological mum is South African, so I'm sort of black...
I grew up in the small city of Hobart with my dad, Lorenzo, my step mum, Janet, and a large number of brothers and sisters. My family and friends have always been a huge impact on me as a person and I really have them to thank for shaping me into the person I am today.
However, I have Kiera Knightley  to thank for my life so far. You know when you used to have that celebrity crush as a teenager? Mine was Kiera Knightley. Honestly, I think I've been attracted to both males and females my whole life, so on my bedroom wall was always a huge montage of posters of Zac Effron, Ryan Sheckler, Kiera Knightley, and other attractive people. I watched "Bend It Like Beckham" when I was 13 and decided then and there on the spot that I wanted to play college soccer on scholarship in the US. Previously, I'd only ever played soccer at our big, Italian, family gatherings, so amazingly, it all kinda just fell into place.

I played for my school teams, then joined a club after I turned 16, and at that point I started looking for scholarships in America.  I'd had maybe half a dozen real scholarship offers over the span of two years but for one reason or another I had to turn them down. Then about a year later, by some crazy twist of fate, something happened when I had moved out of my family's home and was living at "The House" in Sandy Bay. Picture this: It's a random night at 2 or 3am and somebody is outside rapping on all the windows and doors. I'm a very deep sleeper so I don't hear anything initially but I wake up eventually to someone outside my window knocking and yelling my name. I look down at my phone to see what time it is and see about fifty missed calls from Mum Janet, who is outside raising hell.
"Mum! What's wrong? What are you doing??" I thought someone had died...she'd scared the shit out of me.
"You have to come with me!" She says, "A coach from America just called and he's going to call back in a few hours." At the time I was far too tired to comprehend all this so I just went with her. Looking back I can't help but wonder why she didn't just give the coach my new phone number....

Long story short, Coach Bo Bronswick, was offering me a full scholarship to go play and study at Georgia Community College (GCC) in America. His goalkeeper had injured herself right before the season and, whilst he and Assistant/Goalkeeper Coach Saul Richmond were looking for recruits, Saul stumbled upon my skills video. He saw that I had potential and pushed for Coach Bo to sign me. Which meant I had to take an impromptu trip to the US Embassy in Melbourne to get my visa. Which ended up being one of the most hectic trips of my life...

I flew up to Melbourne that afternoon; thankfully, my friend Candice was living there for university at this point. I met her at the train station, used the loo (for Americans, that means toilet), jumped on a shuttle bus, dropped off my luggage at her apartment, then we went back down town to check out the Crown Casino. It was only when I tried to buy dinner that I realized I didn't have my wallet. I'd zipped open the side pocket of my backpack only to grasp air. I propped my bag up on a nearby chair and searched all the compartments. It wasn't there. I kept calm, but on the inside I was freaking out. Actually, freaking out doesn't even begin to describe what was going through my head at that point. I think my brain was so stressed out that I just went completely numb. I just kept thinking, "This is not happening." My wallet was my life, especially then, because I had the visa interview in the morning. My ID, credit card, bank cards, money and a ton of other stuff was in that wallet, not to mention it was a really nice wallet too.
I knew I would die without it.

Candice already had her food so I calmly asked her for directions to the Southern Cross Station, calmly exited the Crown, calmly made my way to the Spencer St, then sprinted my heart out and didn't stop till I got to the depot. It was about a mile run and I'm not even joking when I say I made it there in about five minutes. I didn't care what people thought when they saw me running through downtown Melbourne like a madwoman. I didn't care if I got run over by a person, car, bike or truck. All I could think about was that bathroom stall with my wallet sitting on the toilet paper dispenser. I nearly cried when I burst into the women's bathroom and couldn't find it anywhere. At the same time I hadn't really expected to find it, and I sure as hell didn't expect anyone had turned it in.

Nevertheless, I trudged up to the nearest desk and asked anyway. I almost pissed myself with happiness when the guy behind the desk pulled my wallet out, some lady had handed it in, God bless her soul. I returned to Candice, who was astounded I'd actually found my wallet, and we finally ate and went back to her apartment. She helped me map out the trip I had to take in the morning to get to the Embassy by tram because she doesn't drive. It wasn't too confusing or complicated, it was just going to be a long ride and I also had to change trams at one point. The docket for the Embassy said to be there at least half an hour before my 9:00am appointment, and I just had a feeling something would go wrong again, so I set up everything that night so I could just wake up in the morning, grab what I needed, and walk out the door. Too easy.

The trip to the Embassy went rather smoothly; I woke up super early, made sure I caught the right trams, traveled for about 50 minutes and was almost at the Embassy when I realized I'd left my passport at Candice's. I look at my phone, it's 7:56am. My brain goes into freak out mode again. This time I panic a little more. I bolt out of the tram the second the doors open and jump into the first taxi I see. Taxi Man sees that I'm hysterical and as we drive back to Candice's I fill him in. He's a nice guy and we chat a lot, mostly about soccer, as his niece plays too, in Sydney, apparently she's very good at it, but she's still a young'un...
Taxi Man's life story keeps me distracted from the fact that we are in peak hour traffic and it's taking forever to get to Candice's. She's waiting outside with my passport so I bound out of the taxi and back in again, and with passport inside the vehicle, Taxi Man hits the gas and we settle back into the barely moving, peak hour traffic.

As the clock ticks past 9:00am I start to realize I'm actually late for something just a little bit important...my brain is going haywire at this point and there is no calming it down. Traffic is NOT moving, we have at least half an hour till we reach the Embassy, I'm trying to call the main office but can't get through, there is nothing Taxi Man can do and I think he's even starting to stress out for me. This is not fun.
It's a bit past 10:00am when we finally get to the Embassy and I am not a pretty sight. I'm on the verge of hyperventilating, I'm shaking, I'm kicking myself up the bum because I just wasted $110 on a taxi ride, and I can't even talk and sound normal. You know when you're on the verge of crying and you try and talk but your voice is all wobbly and it hurts to try and speak? I know what that feels like. I sob out a barely audible apology to Taxi Man as I figure this must have been a terrifying start to his day.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be all emotional like this..." I say as I hand him my credit card with a shaky hand, "It's just that this is so important to me and now...if I miss...the...If I..." At  this point I have tears actually running down my face and I'm trying so hard to compose myself for this poor man.
"It's all gonna be ok." He says, trying hard to reassure me, "They'll see you, they can't just turn you away."
His words gave me hope and I gathered myself out of the taxi, waved goodbye to the man who tried his best to keep me together, and entered the Embassy. Turns out that they were not as strict as I had assumed. There was no such thing as "appointments," it was merely set up on a first come, first serve basis, which was excellent for me but incredibly annoying that I wasn't aware of this in the first place.

So, after that ordeal was all sorted, I went to live in Atlanta, and it's been about a year and 5 months since I left Hobart. What I like best about America is that everyone seems to love Australians. I feel like a bit of a celebrity here and I sort of don't want to be normal again. People catch on to your accent real quick and get all excited and want to hear you talk non stop. They tell you to talk as if you have a speech prepared or something. I did not have a speech prepared, ever, so instead I would tell tales of my homeland, which were pretty much all the funny and epic moments I'd created with my friends and family back home.

It got me thinking, I have some pretty entertaining stories that I don't ever want to forget. So, I decided to write them all down and  share them with whoever will listen! Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.