That's the way it seemed
There's a red lipstick ring around my chai tea cup and my dad is telling me about a boy he saw. This boy went up to an ashtray, took out the cig butts and stuffed them in a plastic bag, more or less going home to smoke the last of the tobacco out of them. My mom made a face, said "That's just disgusting" No, I said, it's really just very sad.
We had our first trampoline meet today. It felt weird to be sitting there, hair slicked back, in my warm up leo doing stretches. We only learned our routines on monday. I have turned into the type of gymnast I used to look down upon: one who's team couldn't get matching warm ups and such, who's skills are below par and who doesn't even stand on the podium during awards. But in the end, it was still fun.
We sat there like little kids, hearing him tell us the rules. And I thought artistic gymnastics was picky. No earrings at all, have to land in the landing zone, not allowed to wear warm up pants during one-touch, if you falter during a trampoline routine you get a zero from then on, hold all sticks for three seconds, you must wear socks on the trampolines, it's ridiculous. He told me to relax, I told him he hadn't seen anything yet and should be glad I wasn't doing beam. We kept having to tell the other teams that this was our first meet when they looked at us funny and didn't know why we were doing something wrong. We'd never even used a tumbling strip before, couldn't compete double mini since we didn't have one, and the trampoline bounced so high I was worried about hitting the ceiling. There was a velcro strip ten feet above the bed of the trampoline, marks littering it showing how high people had jumped.
I didn't exactly do too well. My ribbons didn't say first place and neither did my scores. My trampoline routine got terminated in the middle of my cruise, and I was so disoriented after my tumbling that I had to ask if I did the back tuck.
But I never felt so good at a meet, I guess.
It was all so easy when I was little, though. I knew what I wanted to be, because I copied Averna. I was blissfully unaware of how bad I was. I thought I could be an olympic gymnast with no problem, because I was just so special. At least back then I knew what I wanted to be. Now I can't even decide. I want to be a rhythmic, but I'm not flexible enough. I want to be a dancer, but I can't fouette to save my life and I don't have the moves. I want to be an artistic gymnast again, but I tried that, I failed. I want to do T&T but I'm really not all that good. It was just all so easy back then, just all so easy.
This is all nonsense, isn't it, yes it is. It shouldn't matter. or maybe it should. Or maybe I should stop arguing with myself.
We had our first trampoline meet today. It felt weird to be sitting there, hair slicked back, in my warm up leo doing stretches. We only learned our routines on monday. I have turned into the type of gymnast I used to look down upon: one who's team couldn't get matching warm ups and such, who's skills are below par and who doesn't even stand on the podium during awards. But in the end, it was still fun.
We sat there like little kids, hearing him tell us the rules. And I thought artistic gymnastics was picky. No earrings at all, have to land in the landing zone, not allowed to wear warm up pants during one-touch, if you falter during a trampoline routine you get a zero from then on, hold all sticks for three seconds, you must wear socks on the trampolines, it's ridiculous. He told me to relax, I told him he hadn't seen anything yet and should be glad I wasn't doing beam. We kept having to tell the other teams that this was our first meet when they looked at us funny and didn't know why we were doing something wrong. We'd never even used a tumbling strip before, couldn't compete double mini since we didn't have one, and the trampoline bounced so high I was worried about hitting the ceiling. There was a velcro strip ten feet above the bed of the trampoline, marks littering it showing how high people had jumped.
I didn't exactly do too well. My ribbons didn't say first place and neither did my scores. My trampoline routine got terminated in the middle of my cruise, and I was so disoriented after my tumbling that I had to ask if I did the back tuck.
But I never felt so good at a meet, I guess.
It was all so easy when I was little, though. I knew what I wanted to be, because I copied Averna. I was blissfully unaware of how bad I was. I thought I could be an olympic gymnast with no problem, because I was just so special. At least back then I knew what I wanted to be. Now I can't even decide. I want to be a rhythmic, but I'm not flexible enough. I want to be a dancer, but I can't fouette to save my life and I don't have the moves. I want to be an artistic gymnast again, but I tried that, I failed. I want to do T&T but I'm really not all that good. It was just all so easy back then, just all so easy.
This is all nonsense, isn't it, yes it is. It shouldn't matter. or maybe it should. Or maybe I should stop arguing with myself.