I have a crush on someone at the supermarket. It's funny because Jenny always said I expected love to happen in the midst of romantic moment in the aisle in the local grocery store. She said it would be the milk section. This man has nothing to do with dairy- quite the opposite in fact. He is a fishmonger. Antique and romantic too, I suppose. I once started a short story about a Korean butcher named Hank who dealt mostly in seafood and cheese... maybe I somehow willed this crush into existence. He's from Guinea though, and I don't know his name. Crushes are like dreams, and dreams are built on ideas, and those are merely spilled ideas that find a way to dry in the dark, so I imagine it can't be too far from the truth.
I have a crush on someone else, too. He became who he is long before I wrote a single word or heard his heart beat against the weight of my ear. He's as distant as the end of a sentence, and I hold on him to like a comma clinging to an Aside. Others exist out there, though they aren't as well, crushing. Like the skinny tattooed man that casually smokes outside a bar down the street from work. He has a cool lean to him against the bricked building wall that makes my cheeks turn rosy. The Fedora doesn't hurt, and last time I think he had on suspenders... POP.
I have crushes on my memories, on days, on an hour of your time... They are all filled with the same joyful angst as any of their parent-personified. I think my first real crush, we're talking puppy love here, was on my cousin. Sounds shameful, but I merely thought he was beautiful and interesting. I was 7. And Beauty is reckless and subjective, though not much has changed by way of criteria. Except the part about being related. That I let go off soon enough to chase boys with Saint names like Andrew, Thomas and Patrick around the playground.
While those week days linger too, the real intimacy is in Sundays. I have a crush on Sunday. Long, beautiful Sunday, always brushing the line between the birth of a new week and the end of just a little more time on my hands. I used to long for hands; flush at a firm handshake, close my eyes to nails on my back, sigh for fingertips kissing my skin. I'm infatuated with lips, too - smooth contour in the shape of a spoon. I like that too. Metallic to the tongue, static, aligned by shape and form... I'm not necessarily talking about silverware... I have a crush on someone I mixed moments with, and those moments have a crush on me.
Truth is, I'm crushed. Nothing is ever as it seems, and I am buried under the weight of searching. Searching for something right, true. The Beatles say you gotta carry that weight a long time, so for now, I'll take that advice and try not to smother myself. All this infatuation is hard to keep tabs on. Maybe one Sunday I'll have a little space in time, and someone can give me a hand... Just a little squeeze.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Guten Tag!
Well, friends, I have made it back in one piece from Deutschland... though I must admit, my mind can’t seem to leave it. The rest of me feels pretty confused about which way is up, my body is constantly asking itself, what time is it? Should I eat? Sleep? Drink more beer? Work? (Oh, god no, not that!) Hey, a little confusion is well worth the time I had abroad.
First of all, Amanda and Peter are fantastic hosts. They’ve settled into Kassel just like you would expect an Ex-Pat to do. Peter’s half-German, so I suppose that complement goes out to Amanda... already she speaks German really well, and reads it too! It’s amazing how quickly she’s adapted to her new life, learned the do’s and don’ts of living in Europe as an American (of course it doesn’t hurt that everyone thinks she’s German), and just fits right in like she’s lived there for eight years, not just eight months. She and Peter are totally in love and adorable together. He’s a kind and generous person; serious and studious, but also funny and charming. He has a big heart (which fits since he’s like 6’4” or something ridiculous) and loves Amanda very much. I felt welcome in their home every moment I was there, and in fact, when I realized that Sunday morning was already upon us, and that I’d be heading back to the US, I was sorta shocked how quickly the time flew. It snuck up on us as fast as the daily weather change.
Kassel is an easy town to navigate- big, but not overwhelming. The local tram and bus systems are stellar- efficient and clean- but expensive. And like the rest of Europe, the train will take you anywhere you want to go. Even though these resources are readily available (most days), it is also extremely easy to be bipedal. Amanda and I biked and walked EVERYWHERE. Peter even threw me on the back of his bike and we kicked it Double-Dutch style through the park one day (after having many beers in an effort to wait out an afternoon rain storm). I forgot how fun and scary riding tandem can be. But man, riding everywhere made me all-over-mad-again that some dickhead stole my bike back here in DC. This trip reaffirmed my love of the beaten path, and I may have to suck it up and buy a new bike (though I guarantee it will not be as freeing as riding in Germany... people in the District are unfortunately, not very bike friendly... jerks).
Anyway, America is not the topic at hand... it’s just hard to know where to start to even try and sum up the trip and my vagabond-self... So, I guess let’s just start with Day One. I arrived in Frankfurt on Monday morning at 7am, greeted immediately by Amanda and Peter (complete with rental car!). We made our way lazily down the Auto Ban, talking freely and enjoying the German country-side. It is so green and lush, trees and hillsides rolling beyond any line of Horizon you can image, dotted with farms and rows of little cottage houses and little towns. Upon our arrival in Kassel, they took me to what Amanda called, “the ugliest building on the block”, A.K.A their home. A sweet little apartment with the tiniest kitchen you’ve ever seen! You thought ours at The Baird were small, pu-lease! This little guy, separated from the rest of the main room by a very thin bar and cutting board space, can only handle the proclaimed “bathroom sink”, gas stove and a mini-fridge. As well as a couple of properly positioned shelves and carts (procured from various sidewalks and little thrift shops around town, Amanda is the best bargain-hunter after all). The main room (my bedroom!) has hardwood floors, a great old sewing table (also a discarded sidewalk-find) and a cute little four-top wooden table that sits right under the sunroof. It’s cozy and intimate, but by no means cramped, which makes for a nice hang out spot, and ended up being where we spent a great portion of my visit. The bedroom is nice and spacious, and completely full of light. Their apartment on the whole is warm and inviting, and we managed to be very good at meeting every one’s needs without getting in each others way (whether it be as simple as what time someone had to get up (or not!), a shower, a bite to eat, another beer... whatever!, we fit easily into each others lives, which is of course no surprise, this is Amanda we are talking about... and Peter is just as pleasant to be around- again, no surprise that our girl would marry a good man.
We spent the better part of Monday just chillin’. We drank crisp white wine, German pilsner, ate homemade Goulash, played Kniffel and cards, all the while talking about everything and nothing all at once. Perfect first day abroad.
We awoke to a lovely (albeit slightly hung-over) Tuesday and headed to town to have brunch and a much-needed dose of caffeine before Peter had to work. Brunch was delicious- fresh eggs, yogurt and Muesli, crisp bacon, toast and jam. Mmmmmmmm! The food standards are very strict, so anything and everything tastes like it is straight from the farm. After breakfast, Amanda showed me around the city square and we shopped a bit, had a mid-afternoon coffee and people-watched the busy Germans made their way around the city. Later we went back to collect Peter and do something about dinner. It was decided that Stir-fried rice would be a good meal, so Amanda and I biked to the grocery store and bought supplies. We spent a nice quite evening at home, repeating Monday’s debauchery (though on a much lighter scale as Wednesday was going to be a big day for us all).
The next morning we rose to join Amanda’s classmates and colleagues on a trip to a town called Bad Sooden-Allendorf, a place that is still a little divided in terms of East and West Germany despite the fall of the Berlin Wall. It luckily sustained very little damage during World War II, though many of the surrounding towns did not, including Kassel. It makes for a killer history tour as some of the houses are still standing after being built in 1664! AMAZING! They look like picturesque little cottages, and cost next to nothing to own... something that is more tempting than you can imagine when our own economy is so shitty. Amanda and I quickly ditched the group and went on our own tour of the two towns (that are now technically considered one) and managed to get completely wasted by like 5pm.
Ahhh, a little dab’ll do ya! It’s just so easy to say, “Yeah, we’ll have one more round” when the weather is fine, the scenery is beautiful and the company is superb. We toted bottles of beer around with us to have later, but as you can imagine, by the time we made it back to Kassel, we were hungry and starting to get grumpy from the no longer drunken state we had so easily achieved just a few hours prior. We decided to go Greek and try out The Zeus Restaurant in town... In Germany! It was sooooo good, but man, those Germans can EAT! Amanda got a piece of beefsteak that could have easily feed a family... so huge! We came home to Peter full and happy, beers in tow...
Thursday started out as a beautiful day, perfect for biking, so we met Peter for lunch at the Orangerie which is this gigantic Palace positioned on the most stunning park ever! It was like 5 times the size of the Quad at UNCA, and our bike ride across it couldn’t have been any other way to enjoy the weather. Though, just as we completed our delicious lunch; the weather turned grey and then to rain... Yikes! Did that stop us from enjoying the afternoon? NEVER! We hid out at this little bar that used to be a really big well. It overlooks the city and the river, and has a great relaxed feel to it. Needless to say, we may have been dry on the outside, but we were not on the inside. After a drunken bike ride home (that included a tumble into the grass and the aforementioned Double-Dutch ride), we ventured out for dinner and more beer. It was a great day, rain, grass and all.
Friday was equally as relaxed... we had fruit and yogurt, ice cream (twice!) another trip to the grocery store, hit up a thrift store and more hiding out from the rain. That evening we had decided to have Thai food… which sounds funny to even consider whilst in Germany, but it was DELICIOUS! Pad Thai never tasted so good. We tumbled around town, checking out some of Amanda and Peter’s favorite hot spots, then hit the hay to prepare for my last day in Germany! So sad.
Saturday was a straight up tourist day. It was muggy out, and kinda grey, so we weren’t sure what all we could do, but we managed to squeeze in a Bratwurst for lunch, a stroll through the downtown Flea Market, half a Nutella crepe (Peter obligingly ate our leftovers), and a tour of one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen! A CASTLE, a real-life kings and queens and knights and shit CASTLE! From like 1700 something or other. The Lowenberg or “Lion’s Castle” was so fucking cool. We got to go on a walking tour with this extremely knowledgeable and excitable German dude. There were a bunch of kids with us because one of them got the castle tour for his birthday. He was five, and the tour dude knighted him while we were in the armor room, leaving us with “Sir Nicholas” on the tour with us... so cute and really smart for a 5 year old.
The castle was one of the most amazing historical landmarks I’ve ever seen. They had armory dating back to 1552! So cool. After the tour, we decided to relax at the Castle Pub and snag a beer (I mean, really, you have to relax after a castle tour, obviously a beer was needed). We hung out up there for quite a while, got a great view of the cityscape, and then hiked down the mountainside back to town to grab some dinner. I got to enjoy another favorite German dish - Toast Hawaii, which is pretty much what you would imagine it to be: like Hawaiian pizza. Pineapple, ham and melted cheese on top of toast. MMMMM! To top off the night, and truly call it a successful day, we headed to Amanda and Peter’s neighborhood bar and played some cards, listened to live music, ate more Bratwurst and drank really good wine. God I've never eaten so much meat in my life!
Everything about my vacation was EXACTLY what I hoped it would be. I got to relax, talk into the wee hours of the day and night with Amanda, get to know Peter better, eat good German food and see some cool, old shit. I highly, highly recommend a trip to the Castle Schimunek, it will not disappoint.
First of all, Amanda and Peter are fantastic hosts. They’ve settled into Kassel just like you would expect an Ex-Pat to do. Peter’s half-German, so I suppose that complement goes out to Amanda... already she speaks German really well, and reads it too! It’s amazing how quickly she’s adapted to her new life, learned the do’s and don’ts of living in Europe as an American (of course it doesn’t hurt that everyone thinks she’s German), and just fits right in like she’s lived there for eight years, not just eight months. She and Peter are totally in love and adorable together. He’s a kind and generous person; serious and studious, but also funny and charming. He has a big heart (which fits since he’s like 6’4” or something ridiculous) and loves Amanda very much. I felt welcome in their home every moment I was there, and in fact, when I realized that Sunday morning was already upon us, and that I’d be heading back to the US, I was sorta shocked how quickly the time flew. It snuck up on us as fast as the daily weather change.
Kassel is an easy town to navigate- big, but not overwhelming. The local tram and bus systems are stellar- efficient and clean- but expensive. And like the rest of Europe, the train will take you anywhere you want to go. Even though these resources are readily available (most days), it is also extremely easy to be bipedal. Amanda and I biked and walked EVERYWHERE. Peter even threw me on the back of his bike and we kicked it Double-Dutch style through the park one day (after having many beers in an effort to wait out an afternoon rain storm). I forgot how fun and scary riding tandem can be. But man, riding everywhere made me all-over-mad-again that some dickhead stole my bike back here in DC. This trip reaffirmed my love of the beaten path, and I may have to suck it up and buy a new bike (though I guarantee it will not be as freeing as riding in Germany... people in the District are unfortunately, not very bike friendly... jerks).
Anyway, America is not the topic at hand... it’s just hard to know where to start to even try and sum up the trip and my vagabond-self... So, I guess let’s just start with Day One. I arrived in Frankfurt on Monday morning at 7am, greeted immediately by Amanda and Peter (complete with rental car!). We made our way lazily down the Auto Ban, talking freely and enjoying the German country-side. It is so green and lush, trees and hillsides rolling beyond any line of Horizon you can image, dotted with farms and rows of little cottage houses and little towns. Upon our arrival in Kassel, they took me to what Amanda called, “the ugliest building on the block”, A.K.A their home. A sweet little apartment with the tiniest kitchen you’ve ever seen! You thought ours at The Baird were small, pu-lease! This little guy, separated from the rest of the main room by a very thin bar and cutting board space, can only handle the proclaimed “bathroom sink”, gas stove and a mini-fridge. As well as a couple of properly positioned shelves and carts (procured from various sidewalks and little thrift shops around town, Amanda is the best bargain-hunter after all). The main room (my bedroom!) has hardwood floors, a great old sewing table (also a discarded sidewalk-find) and a cute little four-top wooden table that sits right under the sunroof. It’s cozy and intimate, but by no means cramped, which makes for a nice hang out spot, and ended up being where we spent a great portion of my visit. The bedroom is nice and spacious, and completely full of light. Their apartment on the whole is warm and inviting, and we managed to be very good at meeting every one’s needs without getting in each others way (whether it be as simple as what time someone had to get up (or not!), a shower, a bite to eat, another beer... whatever!, we fit easily into each others lives, which is of course no surprise, this is Amanda we are talking about... and Peter is just as pleasant to be around- again, no surprise that our girl would marry a good man.
We spent the better part of Monday just chillin’. We drank crisp white wine, German pilsner, ate homemade Goulash, played Kniffel and cards, all the while talking about everything and nothing all at once. Perfect first day abroad.
We awoke to a lovely (albeit slightly hung-over) Tuesday and headed to town to have brunch and a much-needed dose of caffeine before Peter had to work. Brunch was delicious- fresh eggs, yogurt and Muesli, crisp bacon, toast and jam. Mmmmmmmm! The food standards are very strict, so anything and everything tastes like it is straight from the farm. After breakfast, Amanda showed me around the city square and we shopped a bit, had a mid-afternoon coffee and people-watched the busy Germans made their way around the city. Later we went back to collect Peter and do something about dinner. It was decided that Stir-fried rice would be a good meal, so Amanda and I biked to the grocery store and bought supplies. We spent a nice quite evening at home, repeating Monday’s debauchery (though on a much lighter scale as Wednesday was going to be a big day for us all).
The next morning we rose to join Amanda’s classmates and colleagues on a trip to a town called Bad Sooden-Allendorf, a place that is still a little divided in terms of East and West Germany despite the fall of the Berlin Wall. It luckily sustained very little damage during World War II, though many of the surrounding towns did not, including Kassel. It makes for a killer history tour as some of the houses are still standing after being built in 1664! AMAZING! They look like picturesque little cottages, and cost next to nothing to own... something that is more tempting than you can imagine when our own economy is so shitty. Amanda and I quickly ditched the group and went on our own tour of the two towns (that are now technically considered one) and managed to get completely wasted by like 5pm.
Ahhh, a little dab’ll do ya! It’s just so easy to say, “Yeah, we’ll have one more round” when the weather is fine, the scenery is beautiful and the company is superb. We toted bottles of beer around with us to have later, but as you can imagine, by the time we made it back to Kassel, we were hungry and starting to get grumpy from the no longer drunken state we had so easily achieved just a few hours prior. We decided to go Greek and try out The Zeus Restaurant in town... In Germany! It was sooooo good, but man, those Germans can EAT! Amanda got a piece of beefsteak that could have easily feed a family... so huge! We came home to Peter full and happy, beers in tow...
Thursday started out as a beautiful day, perfect for biking, so we met Peter for lunch at the Orangerie which is this gigantic Palace positioned on the most stunning park ever! It was like 5 times the size of the Quad at UNCA, and our bike ride across it couldn’t have been any other way to enjoy the weather. Though, just as we completed our delicious lunch; the weather turned grey and then to rain... Yikes! Did that stop us from enjoying the afternoon? NEVER! We hid out at this little bar that used to be a really big well. It overlooks the city and the river, and has a great relaxed feel to it. Needless to say, we may have been dry on the outside, but we were not on the inside. After a drunken bike ride home (that included a tumble into the grass and the aforementioned Double-Dutch ride), we ventured out for dinner and more beer. It was a great day, rain, grass and all.
Friday was equally as relaxed... we had fruit and yogurt, ice cream (twice!) another trip to the grocery store, hit up a thrift store and more hiding out from the rain. That evening we had decided to have Thai food… which sounds funny to even consider whilst in Germany, but it was DELICIOUS! Pad Thai never tasted so good. We tumbled around town, checking out some of Amanda and Peter’s favorite hot spots, then hit the hay to prepare for my last day in Germany! So sad.
Saturday was a straight up tourist day. It was muggy out, and kinda grey, so we weren’t sure what all we could do, but we managed to squeeze in a Bratwurst for lunch, a stroll through the downtown Flea Market, half a Nutella crepe (Peter obligingly ate our leftovers), and a tour of one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen! A CASTLE, a real-life kings and queens and knights and shit CASTLE! From like 1700 something or other. The Lowenberg or “Lion’s Castle” was so fucking cool. We got to go on a walking tour with this extremely knowledgeable and excitable German dude. There were a bunch of kids with us because one of them got the castle tour for his birthday. He was five, and the tour dude knighted him while we were in the armor room, leaving us with “Sir Nicholas” on the tour with us... so cute and really smart for a 5 year old.
The castle was one of the most amazing historical landmarks I’ve ever seen. They had armory dating back to 1552! So cool. After the tour, we decided to relax at the Castle Pub and snag a beer (I mean, really, you have to relax after a castle tour, obviously a beer was needed). We hung out up there for quite a while, got a great view of the cityscape, and then hiked down the mountainside back to town to grab some dinner. I got to enjoy another favorite German dish - Toast Hawaii, which is pretty much what you would imagine it to be: like Hawaiian pizza. Pineapple, ham and melted cheese on top of toast. MMMMM! To top off the night, and truly call it a successful day, we headed to Amanda and Peter’s neighborhood bar and played some cards, listened to live music, ate more Bratwurst and drank really good wine. God I've never eaten so much meat in my life!
Everything about my vacation was EXACTLY what I hoped it would be. I got to relax, talk into the wee hours of the day and night with Amanda, get to know Peter better, eat good German food and see some cool, old shit. I highly, highly recommend a trip to the Castle Schimunek, it will not disappoint.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Knives
You are a knife.
I won't bore you with the details of unnecessary adjectives like sharp, the point has been made.
Maybe I could sell you door to door like a set of Encyclopedia Britannica. There's probably good money in it, though I'm afraid I'd be wishing letters back to pages as fast as money exchanged hands.
Perhaps I can kill two birds with one stone and use one of the same Britannica as a cutting board. Or is it cruel to break apart the alphabet?
How about this- can I just buy a vowel? The sometimes y?
Don't think I can't hear it ring out from its place at the end of the line. The letters must stack heavy down there.
Maybe that's why it gets to join the more popular crowd sometimes. Or is it that I'm just supposed to think that the ones seen more often are better.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
Right.
Or not.
I am the one who is sharp, and I don't plan to stay away from the alphabet for long.
I won't bore you with the details of unnecessary adjectives like sharp, the point has been made.
Maybe I could sell you door to door like a set of Encyclopedia Britannica. There's probably good money in it, though I'm afraid I'd be wishing letters back to pages as fast as money exchanged hands.
Perhaps I can kill two birds with one stone and use one of the same Britannica as a cutting board. Or is it cruel to break apart the alphabet?
How about this- can I just buy a vowel? The sometimes y?
Don't think I can't hear it ring out from its place at the end of the line. The letters must stack heavy down there.
Maybe that's why it gets to join the more popular crowd sometimes. Or is it that I'm just supposed to think that the ones seen more often are better.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
Right.
Or not.
I am the one who is sharp, and I don't plan to stay away from the alphabet for long.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Run, Rabbit, Run!
It's amazing, I always sort of thought of myself as being "athletic". I mean, not like I'm an "athlete"- god no. But I guess, "my build" is in that line up. Just like your age, check a box on the form and move on. (said in a Yankee-accented, old smoker-lady's voice). The reason I bring this up is, well, I don't really want to say that my life spent as an "athlete" has been embarrassing, but it totally has. I can give you a few "For Instances" and let you be the judge.
In Sixth Grade, I was on a undefeated basketball team. I scored 3 points the whole season. And once, despite my terrible ability to play at all, I actually managed to complete an interception! I stole the ball and ran like the wind down the court to our side, and with all eyes on me, I threw the ball high in the air... and missed. Completely. In my excitement, I over-ran the court and couldn't get the shot. An audible, disappointed "aww" filled the stands. Needless to say, I didn't join the team the next year.
I tried softball... but all I got out of that was a team picture that simultaneously proved that I really did have that horrifying perm in 4th grade and I played for team named Desert Storm. How patriotic. That was all YEARS ago, mind you, but apparently my sporting ability has retained its quality over the almost two decades.
See, I'm training for a 10K... well, I was. I've been running, a lot. Which I kinda enjoy anyway, so it's been a nice way to get me in shape. So the other day I was running on the treadmill about 20 minutes into my 40 minute scheduled time and my earphone cord got caught on my arm or something stupid like that and threw my iPod to the floor. In my sweaty, heavy-breathing state, I immediately considered my options.
A) Keep running, maybe someone will finish their work out and pick it and return it to me.
B) Stop Running, slow the machine to a crawl and hop off to get it.
Choosing Option B was obvious, I still had 20 more minutes to go. So, there I was, just like one of those annoying people who run in place at crosswalks, thinking that I could lose less running time if I straddled the still-rolling treadmill and pressed the "Jog" option to slow the speed. I also thought "JOG" was my only option as this machine is new and the only thing I've learned so far is that "STOP" kills everything, including your progress. Earphones still attached to my head, off I jumped, assuming it had lost interest in my continued efforts though I couldn't hear proof otherwise grumbling aside me. Grabbing the iPod, half-attempting to replug the earphones to the body, I turned to the right and quite literally hopped back on the treadmill.
With birthday-party-SURPRISE-like emotion, full-speed-ahead, AND at an angle, I hit the still-running treadmill. BOOM! My feet flew out from under me, landing right knee first on the treadmill just before tumbling to the sweaty, carpeted floor. The two girls around me looked shocked and both asked nearly in unison as I found my footing again, "Oh my God! Are you okay!" (Neither of them leaving their circling track to help me up).
I stood up sheepishly and assured them I was okay (though I was shaking and half-thought my kneecap was poking out of my leg). Turns out that was just blood pooling under the skin of the joint. Brutal.
So now, while I am on the road to recovery, though not quite ready to chase the carrot again, I have been doing small things at home to kill time and make up for the lack of burnt energy. I cook, I clean, I do crunches in my room and pretend to lift weights. Just the other night I was sort of half-heartily laying on the floor of my room, playing around with my yellow weights. At some point, I either lost interest or motivation, it doesn't really matter. The part that made me laugh out loud was when I placed the weights on my chest to rest and I suddenly found myself in a calm moment. I snickered at myself for thinking of jokes like, "ha, take a load off!" and "What a weight off my chest." A corner came to the crook of my mouth and I felt pretty darn good about myself for this wit, that is, until I thought, "huh... 10 lbs feels pretty weird sitting on your chest. In fact, I bet this is more, I mean it is kinda heavy."
I looked down at the sunny metal and laughed. Out loud. They weigh three pounds each. Who am I really kidding? It appears, my lack of athletic prowess even hits my brainwaves sometimes.
In Sixth Grade, I was on a undefeated basketball team. I scored 3 points the whole season. And once, despite my terrible ability to play at all, I actually managed to complete an interception! I stole the ball and ran like the wind down the court to our side, and with all eyes on me, I threw the ball high in the air... and missed. Completely. In my excitement, I over-ran the court and couldn't get the shot. An audible, disappointed "aww" filled the stands. Needless to say, I didn't join the team the next year.
I tried softball... but all I got out of that was a team picture that simultaneously proved that I really did have that horrifying perm in 4th grade and I played for team named Desert Storm. How patriotic. That was all YEARS ago, mind you, but apparently my sporting ability has retained its quality over the almost two decades.
See, I'm training for a 10K... well, I was. I've been running, a lot. Which I kinda enjoy anyway, so it's been a nice way to get me in shape. So the other day I was running on the treadmill about 20 minutes into my 40 minute scheduled time and my earphone cord got caught on my arm or something stupid like that and threw my iPod to the floor. In my sweaty, heavy-breathing state, I immediately considered my options.
A) Keep running, maybe someone will finish their work out and pick it and return it to me.
B) Stop Running, slow the machine to a crawl and hop off to get it.
Choosing Option B was obvious, I still had 20 more minutes to go. So, there I was, just like one of those annoying people who run in place at crosswalks, thinking that I could lose less running time if I straddled the still-rolling treadmill and pressed the "Jog" option to slow the speed. I also thought "JOG" was my only option as this machine is new and the only thing I've learned so far is that "STOP" kills everything, including your progress. Earphones still attached to my head, off I jumped, assuming it had lost interest in my continued efforts though I couldn't hear proof otherwise grumbling aside me. Grabbing the iPod, half-attempting to replug the earphones to the body, I turned to the right and quite literally hopped back on the treadmill.
With birthday-party-SURPRISE-like emotion, full-speed-ahead, AND at an angle, I hit the still-running treadmill. BOOM! My feet flew out from under me, landing right knee first on the treadmill just before tumbling to the sweaty, carpeted floor. The two girls around me looked shocked and both asked nearly in unison as I found my footing again, "Oh my God! Are you okay!" (Neither of them leaving their circling track to help me up).
I stood up sheepishly and assured them I was okay (though I was shaking and half-thought my kneecap was poking out of my leg). Turns out that was just blood pooling under the skin of the joint. Brutal.
So now, while I am on the road to recovery, though not quite ready to chase the carrot again, I have been doing small things at home to kill time and make up for the lack of burnt energy. I cook, I clean, I do crunches in my room and pretend to lift weights. Just the other night I was sort of half-heartily laying on the floor of my room, playing around with my yellow weights. At some point, I either lost interest or motivation, it doesn't really matter. The part that made me laugh out loud was when I placed the weights on my chest to rest and I suddenly found myself in a calm moment. I snickered at myself for thinking of jokes like, "ha, take a load off!" and "What a weight off my chest." A corner came to the crook of my mouth and I felt pretty darn good about myself for this wit, that is, until I thought, "huh... 10 lbs feels pretty weird sitting on your chest. In fact, I bet this is more, I mean it is kinda heavy."
I looked down at the sunny metal and laughed. Out loud. They weigh three pounds each. Who am I really kidding? It appears, my lack of athletic prowess even hits my brainwaves sometimes.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I'm Over You.
I wish.
I'm so tired of liking you and having you not like me back. Please reconsider how awesome I am.
Thanks.
Love, Shelby
p.s. That goes for all of you.
I'm so tired of liking you and having you not like me back. Please reconsider how awesome I am.
Thanks.
Love, Shelby
p.s. That goes for all of you.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Disappoint and Distract
I'm supposed to have written a script by now. Actually, it's late. I should be holding 100 pages of self-inspired creative flow in my hands to pass along to ScriptFrenzy. The truth is, I have eight... Eight pages of what could be something cool but I was too distracted by my stupid self that I didn't complete it. Don't even really have a title yet; just some flat characters that were beginning a beautiful relationship with my gray matter.
Maybe the mingling wasn't going well... That's at least what I'm telling myself anyway.
Maybe I can't complete it because I'm not sure what the hell I have to say. Or what some made up character that is really just a loose version of myself has to either. The thing is, I have hope for these people. I think somewhere along the way, they will get a chance to come out screaming. I wanna come out screaming. Or do I? T.S. Eliot says that it's not with a bang but a whimper. I think I get it now. All this time I thought it was supposed to be making some kind of harmonious racket. Turns out, all you need is a whisper. Lips pursed, tickling an ear.
When did subtlety get so unpopular?
I forget that the smallest things are often the best... well... not always.
Maybe the mingling wasn't going well... That's at least what I'm telling myself anyway.
Maybe I can't complete it because I'm not sure what the hell I have to say. Or what some made up character that is really just a loose version of myself has to either. The thing is, I have hope for these people. I think somewhere along the way, they will get a chance to come out screaming. I wanna come out screaming. Or do I? T.S. Eliot says that it's not with a bang but a whimper. I think I get it now. All this time I thought it was supposed to be making some kind of harmonious racket. Turns out, all you need is a whisper. Lips pursed, tickling an ear.
When did subtlety get so unpopular?
I forget that the smallest things are often the best... well... not always.
Monday, April 20, 2009
"Dear Auntie Em,"
"Hate you. Hate Kansas. Taking the Dog. Love, Dorothy"
Pretty much. Shelby - 0, DC - trying to go Double or Nothing, when I got nothing. I'm crawling out of my skin to be in a place that I feels like home. What did I think would happen when I found myself some place else? My memories of hard times would fade into that storage bin for sadness I thought up once for a story I never wrote? This is the idea that went no where, like so many that I should have written down but didn't, then forgot what they were and felt bad about it. It's suffocating.
I am searching for purpose. Ha! Even the "script" I'm supposed to be writing digs for purpose for my poor characters. They too are choking under the weight of purgatory. I guess I knew waiting around was gonna be heavy, it always has been. Like my paper-made people, it's not enough to save someone from drowning just to throw them back into a different body of water. As if I could suddenly forget all those summers I spent treading water to pass the swim test at camp. Or moreover, all the days I spent swimming in Granddaddy Bill's pool, just waiting for the chance to go up and visit him, have a tomato and take a look around at the world from his point of view.
When did I get so tired? Treading water isn't that hard. I lack the common decency to just try a little fucking bit harder. Challenge myself. Stop being so scared of what people will think, of what might happen. I must have gotten that from my father, it certainly didn't come from his. Or maybe it did. This instilled since of Watch out! Be careful what you do, someone you know might see you"! He used to try to tell me that when I was a kid, a teenager, so I'd stay out of trouble. It echoes through my bones, and makes it much harder to see the truth sometimes. Dorothy went home because she wanted to be seen - in real life (whatever that is...)
Black and white is the option? I'll take midgets in technicolor thank you very much.
This isn't a movie, though. There is no happy ending scripted to sell out big theaters. This. Is. It. And well, often I think want my money back. Like cashing in a bad decision and trying a new one on for size. In the end, if it doesn't fit either, when it comes down to it, it's you who thinks it stinks. The refund has nothing to do with it. I chose to come to this District-ed place, and since I'm not gettin' no tax return this year... I better figure out what the hell I'm so hateful of before I make like Dorothy and wake up some place else, just trying to get home.
Pretty much. Shelby - 0, DC - trying to go Double or Nothing, when I got nothing. I'm crawling out of my skin to be in a place that I feels like home. What did I think would happen when I found myself some place else? My memories of hard times would fade into that storage bin for sadness I thought up once for a story I never wrote? This is the idea that went no where, like so many that I should have written down but didn't, then forgot what they were and felt bad about it. It's suffocating.
I am searching for purpose. Ha! Even the "script" I'm supposed to be writing digs for purpose for my poor characters. They too are choking under the weight of purgatory. I guess I knew waiting around was gonna be heavy, it always has been. Like my paper-made people, it's not enough to save someone from drowning just to throw them back into a different body of water. As if I could suddenly forget all those summers I spent treading water to pass the swim test at camp. Or moreover, all the days I spent swimming in Granddaddy Bill's pool, just waiting for the chance to go up and visit him, have a tomato and take a look around at the world from his point of view.
When did I get so tired? Treading water isn't that hard. I lack the common decency to just try a little fucking bit harder. Challenge myself. Stop being so scared of what people will think, of what might happen. I must have gotten that from my father, it certainly didn't come from his. Or maybe it did. This instilled since of Watch out! Be careful what you do, someone you know might see you"! He used to try to tell me that when I was a kid, a teenager, so I'd stay out of trouble. It echoes through my bones, and makes it much harder to see the truth sometimes. Dorothy went home because she wanted to be seen - in real life (whatever that is...)
Black and white is the option? I'll take midgets in technicolor thank you very much.
This isn't a movie, though. There is no happy ending scripted to sell out big theaters. This. Is. It. And well, often I think want my money back. Like cashing in a bad decision and trying a new one on for size. In the end, if it doesn't fit either, when it comes down to it, it's you who thinks it stinks. The refund has nothing to do with it. I chose to come to this District-ed place, and since I'm not gettin' no tax return this year... I better figure out what the hell I'm so hateful of before I make like Dorothy and wake up some place else, just trying to get home.
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