Wherrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrree does the time go?
Hello everyone. Sorry I haven't been responding much the last couple of days. It's been a topsy turvy weekend. Hello to everyone who has popped in and introduced themselves. You are all making me feel very welcome and a little surreal. I suppose it takes some time adjusting to meeting new people via weird-ass aliases and downloaded images though Christina Ricci isn't exactly hard on the eyes so lulybunny has my vote so far.
As for the weekend and my state of mind at the moment I can only offer you this analogy at the moment because I can't say that there are particular words to describe it. When I was a freshman in high school we had to take a swimming course in gym. Retarded a little cruel? YES. Anyway one day a week the poor drunk slob of a teacher who somehow drew the short straw and got to govern over the awkward, angst-ridden, scantily clad (did I mention that the boys wore a slightly longer and looser fitting speedo?!), masses of teenagers lucky enough to be right smack dab in the peak of their pubescent metamorphosis (oh yeah, it was co-ed too!) would give us a free day wherein we would get to frolic amongst our peers in soaked, navy blue loin cloths. If my tone seems one of bitterness then you have misinterpreted what is actually my skepticism for any public school board that thinks thrusting a half naked; (oh wait, did I say half) a three-quarters naked 14 year old in front of members of the opposite sex is beneficial to positive growth and mental well-being. (Exhales slowly) But I digress. Anyway, these freedays would usually involve the boys doing something competitive while the girls gossiped in the corner of the deep end. Just for fun the poor drunk slob mentioned earlier would toss a used wrestling mat into the pool for what I can only imagine to be the same reason that you would toss a bone into group of dogs; sheer comedic anarchy. King of the mat, that's what this ritual was called, would begin with several boys flying over to the mat and trying to climb on top of it. This was not easy because while the mat did float a bit it would still dip under water and if unbalanced on one side the other could be counted upon to flip right over on top of you and hopefully only momentarily pin you under water. If that didn't happen surely someone would grab you, dunk you, or send you flying off the mat anyway. The entire process seems idiotic, antagonistic, defeatist as well as pointless, I know; but, occasionally you would manage to pull yourself onto the mat amidst kicking and clawing around you and stand up for a moment. In that moment, feet holding frantically firm to the mat beneath the water, you stand above it. Seemingly on top of it, frozen, while everything around you; the flailing masses just below, the amused glare of adult incompetence, the ambiguous glances from the whisperers in the corner, and the cold churning water in every direction tries their best to assure you that today is, in fact, not your day. And for that moment you wobble and teeter just out of (h)arms-length with the realization that (one) you somehow beat the odds, that with seemingly so much wanting you to be pinned beneath that mat gasping for air you are, in fact, firmly planted on top of it (two) at any second the mat may flip on you from any direction sending back to the commotion you had just pulled yourself out of.
This is where I find myself at the moment. Uneasily rooted to the very foundation that will either support me or up-end me. I have already crawled up once but something tells me that the next fall means game over.
Again, this is the best analogy I could come up with for my limited life experience. I guess the best lessons do come from high school humiliation after all. Anyone with some meditations feel free. But keep the speedo jokes at bay, I've come up with enough my self.
As for the weekend and my state of mind at the moment I can only offer you this analogy at the moment because I can't say that there are particular words to describe it. When I was a freshman in high school we had to take a swimming course in gym. Retarded a little cruel? YES. Anyway one day a week the poor drunk slob of a teacher who somehow drew the short straw and got to govern over the awkward, angst-ridden, scantily clad (did I mention that the boys wore a slightly longer and looser fitting speedo?!), masses of teenagers lucky enough to be right smack dab in the peak of their pubescent metamorphosis (oh yeah, it was co-ed too!) would give us a free day wherein we would get to frolic amongst our peers in soaked, navy blue loin cloths. If my tone seems one of bitterness then you have misinterpreted what is actually my skepticism for any public school board that thinks thrusting a half naked; (oh wait, did I say half) a three-quarters naked 14 year old in front of members of the opposite sex is beneficial to positive growth and mental well-being. (Exhales slowly) But I digress. Anyway, these freedays would usually involve the boys doing something competitive while the girls gossiped in the corner of the deep end. Just for fun the poor drunk slob mentioned earlier would toss a used wrestling mat into the pool for what I can only imagine to be the same reason that you would toss a bone into group of dogs; sheer comedic anarchy. King of the mat, that's what this ritual was called, would begin with several boys flying over to the mat and trying to climb on top of it. This was not easy because while the mat did float a bit it would still dip under water and if unbalanced on one side the other could be counted upon to flip right over on top of you and hopefully only momentarily pin you under water. If that didn't happen surely someone would grab you, dunk you, or send you flying off the mat anyway. The entire process seems idiotic, antagonistic, defeatist as well as pointless, I know; but, occasionally you would manage to pull yourself onto the mat amidst kicking and clawing around you and stand up for a moment. In that moment, feet holding frantically firm to the mat beneath the water, you stand above it. Seemingly on top of it, frozen, while everything around you; the flailing masses just below, the amused glare of adult incompetence, the ambiguous glances from the whisperers in the corner, and the cold churning water in every direction tries their best to assure you that today is, in fact, not your day. And for that moment you wobble and teeter just out of (h)arms-length with the realization that (one) you somehow beat the odds, that with seemingly so much wanting you to be pinned beneath that mat gasping for air you are, in fact, firmly planted on top of it (two) at any second the mat may flip on you from any direction sending back to the commotion you had just pulled yourself out of.
This is where I find myself at the moment. Uneasily rooted to the very foundation that will either support me or up-end me. I have already crawled up once but something tells me that the next fall means game over.
Again, this is the best analogy I could come up with for my limited life experience. I guess the best lessons do come from high school humiliation after all. Anyone with some meditations feel free. But keep the speedo jokes at bay, I've come up with enough my self.