I haven't been posting here for a variety of small reasons. I tell myself I don't have time, or that I'm never going to actually be a writer, or that I'm not up for the obligation of posting regularly. Sometimes I don't post because I feel like being defiant. And these things have made me realize that this HAD become a blog for some of the wrong reasons. Now, for a bad segue.
I listen to Starcraft 2 commentary. Starcraft 2 is a video game, and while I have only played it a few times (to little success), I find it fascinating. The premise is that you have to build an army starting basically from scratch while managing your resources and technology to gain an advantage over your opponent, who is trying to do the same thing. It falls into the genre RTS (Real-Time Strategy) because all of It's played professionally, most notably in Korea, where it is televised and the teams have 16 hour-a-day practice regimens. Anyway, the most famous commentator/castor is a guy named Sean Plott. His screen name (and name he is known by to almost everyone) is Day[9]. I would definitely recommend you watch his video My Life of Starcraft, no matter whether or not you are interested in the game, or even interested in games in general. It can be found here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJztfsXKcPQ It's almost two hours long, so it's not to be undertaken lightly, but it's worth it. This paragraph has been leading up to the fact that Day[9], when talking about reasons for wanting to play Starcraft, said something along the lines of: you have to enjoy every aspect of it. You have to enjoy working on splitting your workers (the first thing you do in the game, a routine action), much like to be a good author you have to enjoy writing individual sentences. You can't want to play Starcraft because you want to be good at Starcraft and be a pro, just as a writer can't write because they want to have a bestseller. (I don't think that quote is in the video I linked, but that video is amazing anyway.)
The point is: I enjoy writing sentences. I love making little internal jokes inside my work that I know nobody else will pick up on. I don't leave a sentence in my writing if I see a way it can be improved upon. The way words flow together, the way the rhythms of sentences form, and even the use of parentheticals versus commas intrigues me. I enjoy the craft that is writing. So from now on, when I blog, it won't be because I felt obliged. And it won't be because I want people to read it. Which also means I won't be adhering to my little POEM setup anymore. Yes, I still plan on including poetry. I just don't want to be confined. I've decided it's not about forcing myself to write (as it says in my blog description), but about giving myself an outlet. Therefore, if I stop feeling like writing, there will be breaks. I might not update for a while. I'll try and let my readers know, though. I don't like having my blog in the back of my mind while I'm doing other things, the four other pairs of eyes that read it burning into the back of my skull as I guiltily play Magic: The Gathering. And I'm going to write whatever I want (as usual, I suppose). Unfortunately for you, that starts now.
The title of my post refers (obviously to those of you who know me) to the fact that my girlfriend broke up with me. Yup, the very same girlfriend I took that amazing vacation with. When people ask me why (sometimes with that look which conveys "how did you screw that up? She was so nice!") I get to say, "I guess she preemptively broke things off, knowing I'd probably react badly when she told me about the times she cheated on me." So that's the cause of the free time (and probably the self-pity) mentioned in the title. And because the termination of a two-year relationship is obviously affecting me, you'll probably get to hear more about it if you decide to keep reading this blog. But I will try not to harp on it too much (though you might justifiably avoid reading for the next few days, just to be safe).
While I do have more time now that I'm not in a relationship (and consequently not playing frisbee due to not being able to look at her and the guys she decided were more important than me), I do have the LSAT coming up next weekend, so I will be spending a decent amount of time in preparing for that. You know, so I have an excuse at the ready in case I don't find my way back here as promptly as I thought.
So without further ado, a bit of a blog post:
Not About Pillows
People sometimes punch pillows
frustrated, screaming into them
to dull the sounds of sudden emotion
roiling through, released into the fabric
accompanied by dribbles of spit
and unceremonious tears.
Apparently, I shatter bicycle helmets.
An interesting analog to pillow-punching
and noisier than yelling,
the smash of plastic on cement
a harsh but empty echo
off the metal garage door
At least I know now helmets do their job
as I pick it up and examine its single dent
before bending over,
fingers wedged in the vents
and rip it apart
the plastic shell and polystyrene foam
evidently not designed to resist
the particular force I am exerting
though whether it's due to it being lateral
or emotional
I couldn't say.
I straighten, dropping the pile
of once-helmet, left wondering
what the attraction was in the first place.
Poem:
Pretty sure this doesn't need explanation, but in retrospect the series of actions/thoughts was pretty amusing. I got home, put my bike in the garage, and took my helmet off in a perfectly normal manner. Then I started to walk inside, paused, and what I honestly thought was: "This helmet is pretty old, and I don't really need to use it. And I'm pretty sure smashing things is supposed to make people feel better. Well, here goes!" I really took the time to analyze the particulars, and came to the conclusion it was the best option. THEN, and only then, did I cock my arm up and windmill it into the floor by its straps. It bounced quite a ways, but didn't actually seem much the worse for wear. So I set into it, and ripped it apart. And it DID make me feel something other than what I was trying to avoid, but unfortunately I also felt a bit aggressive, and sort of like smashing more things. I looked around briefly, but didn't see anything else that was really all that expendable, so I went inside and started writing instead. And that's how that poem came about. It's pretty rough (OBVIOUSLY), but hey, at least I'm writing again, right?
Observation (A section to skip if you don't like me wallowing in self-pity):
Hindsight is 20/20 my ass. I still have no idea what really went wrong. I look back at the relationship, and all I see are contradictions. Like a few days ago I said I was thinking about taking handball really seriously and going to more tournaments, and she encouraged me, saying she'd support me however she could, even saying she'd chip in monetarily (something I of course refused). And at my last bicycle race I said I was beginning to think the only way I'd be able to have enough money to do all the things I wanted to do was to marry rich, and she responded that she would try to get a high-paying job. Basically, what I'm trying to say was I was a bit blindsided. I still don't know how someone who is unfaithful could say those things. So as if I wasn't cynical enough before, now I get to distrust everyone for a while.
I guess I should take a moment to say that I'm not incredibly mad at her or anything. If she doesn't want to be with me, of course I don't want her to be with me. I'm just constantly frustrated by the things that keep cropping up. Little things, like she knew all my passwords to things, so I have to change them, just to be safe. Little things like picking up my phone and seeing her as the screen saver (before I obviously changed it). Little things like how I took literally 96% of my pictures with her in them, because I'm apparently an over-trusting fool who thought a good thing could last. Little things like not having someone to say good night, and I love you to when I'm finally tired enough to sleep at two in the morning. Except, of course, that last one isn't really such a little thing.
So I wish I could say things were clear in retrospect, that now I can see what went wrong, and learn, and grow, and all that sentimental crap. Instead, confusion reigns. I still can't quite believe she was capable of sleeping with another guy and lying to me so convincingly. You, dear reader, may not know her, but I can assure you there is nothing about her that would prompt that thought. She's a hard-working, talented, intelligent, innocent-looking girl. So I guess my observation for today is just that: the hyphenation. "-looking."
Exercise:
Because I don't really feel like doing a writing exercise, I think I'll just free write here for fifteen minutes. We'll see what comes of it.
Floyd had been growing decreasingly excited about his birthday as it drew nearer. The events in the days leading up to it had been mundane enough to warrant mentioning (quite a feat when you think about it, as there is really no shortage of mundanity in the world these days). In fact, it had been weeks since his routine had been broken in the slightest, and that was only because his cat had literally bored itself to death. He had been petting it as it slept (in exactly the same way he did every night before bed), and its quiet purring simply ceased. There was no wheeze, no final breath, no wisp of soul escaping into the aether. It simply grew gradually colder. Only after a few minutes had passed did Floyd actually catch on to what had occurred. He calmly picked up the body, put it in an appropriately-sized shoebox, and exited the back door to his yard, where he grabbed a shovel. With an all-too-practiced hand he dug a perfectly symmetrical grave the exact depth he required. He gently knelt and placed the box in the hole, filled in what he could, and spread the remaining soil around evenly so as not to leave an area of grass without sunlight. He surveyed his work, noting that the other graves had turned out nicely as well, but still regretting the blotch of dead grass near the first one (from before he had learned the trick about spreading the soil around after you were finished). That made three this spring. He really should look into getting better cats. Or a more exciting life, but honestly, he'd probably consider the switch in cats first. Perhaps if that didn't work out he could add an element of the unknown into his life. Like rolling some dice to determine which side of the bed he would sleep on. Yes, that would do nicely.
Me:
I'm not sure there's a lot to say here. I guess I could fill you in on some of the things I've been doing since my last post. I finished out the road biking season in an acceptable manner, and actually got pretty decent at time trialing near the end, though the 40 km state time trial was a bit more than I was ready for mentally. It didn't help that the markers on the road were in miles rather than kilometers, a fact that only really hit me when I got to the turnaround and was quite taken aback. (Yes, it should have been obvious, had I been thinking a little more. Or really, thinking at all. But I wasn't.) I think there was a good three mile section where I was just too miserable to ride well. Thoughts about never time trialing again fluttered through my brain, delightful fantasies distracting me from the torture I was putting myself through. Of course, since I wasn't concentrating on the torture, it wound up taking longer. I finished with a time in the low 57's, averaging just over 26 miles an hour. So not terrible, but as usual I was left with the thought "I could have gone faster." Which is a very frustrating thought for me to have, especially considering I knew going into the time trial I had never done one that long before and really couldn't expect that much of myself. So what I really need to be thinking is "I'll be faster next time." The only problem with that is it implies a next time, completely negating the fantasies I was clinging to about never suffering like that again. Quite a conundrum.
Most recently I've ridden my cyclocross bike a couple of times. I'd say I raced it, but the course was apparently really easy, so I'm not sure it counted as a real cross race. I did win, though, so that was pretty cool. I like the fact that the ground provides enough resistance that if you try hard you are rewarded with a gap over the person behind you. Drafting is still advantageous, of course, but it definitely feels like the strongest person has a better chance of winning than in road racing. It's too bad I'm terrible at bike handling. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that the rest of the courses are easy too...
Oh, and as you might have guessed, I'm still playing a bit of Magic: The Gathering. It's fun, and about the only time I interact with people other than my family (by choice), so I guess that's my justification. Also, it turns out I'm not terrible at it. I'm thinking about traveling a bit to see if I could have more success, but if I were to do that it would be difficult to...
PLAY HANDBALL! I'm thinking about making this my priority for the winter to see how possible it would be to play at the top level. I know there are a few people who make a living at it, but I doubt that would be my goal. I just want to see how far I can go. I really haven't been playing that long (about four years now), and I feel like I'm almost within reach of the people I've seen who play at a high level. I don't know what is required to span the gap, but I'm willing to find out.
You may think these things don't leave a lot of time for writing, and you're right. I don't know what will happen as far as that is concerned. That is especially true if I get into a decent law school. (Which reminds me that I guess I no longer have to apply to Drake to stay close to Ames...). But I will be making an honest effort at writing more, and we'll see where it goes. It's not my primary concern currently, but I doubt it will ever fade from my passions altogether. Who knows? Maybe I'll eventually man up, quit everything, and try and make it as a starving writer. But right now I'm leaning more toward attending law school and writing when it works into my schedule.
Again, I apologize for the lack of posting, if only because it came without warning. But I'm back for now! Thanks for reading.
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