It's obvious, since I write a blog entry every now and again, that I have to write, and I have to convey how I feel about things. I have been told I have a "colorful way of putting things" by countless people. I can pin a description on something in a unique way, such as when I said the landfill smelled like a thousand decaying dirty diapers covered with a million bloated, rotting racoon carcuses. You understand that nose-hair stinging stench immediately, no? That really has nothiing to do with what I'm going to talk about, but I thought it would be fun to share the stench story.
I have been practicing with a roller derby team. Here's the caveat: I can't skate. I never have skated much, even as a kid, because I didn't live in a place where skating was possible--gravel driveways and roads are not conducive to learning--and I quite possibly may have skated only 5 or 6 times during parties while growing up. Inexperience and inability aside, it's something I really want to do. I want to be able to fly around that rink like my niece, sure footed and determined, and plow my way through a tightly formed cluster of muscle-bound skaters who know what they're doing. Or I'd like to be one of the group of muscle-bound skaters giving full effort to keeping out that one star-helmeted jammer. I may be mousy now, but once I get my footing, you better believe I'm willing to knock her down! So here's the thing: I can use this skating thing to describe my life in a few ways. Firstly, I don't know what I'm doing trying to learn to skate at 40, and I'm finding myself unbalanced and on shaky ground. Just like the rest of my life. I don't have a clue what I'm doing or how to stay upright. The only thing I can do is fall down repeatedly, take a breath, and get right back up again. I will LEARN how to balance and stay upright. I know I will fall down again, but if I learn the right way to fall, it won't hurt quite so badly the next time. And as my good friend put it the other night, every time I fall down and get back up again I'll be a little stronger. I can get up without holding onto anything...I have from the start. I know it won't always be that way, and that occasionally I will need to grab onto something and pull myself back up to a standing position, but for the most part I'm going to do this a little bit at a time, on my own, surrounded by people who want to see me succeed, even if it takes a long time and my usual unconventional ways.
Another metaphor I've been musing on lately is the cold and impersonal world of texting. I suppose it's not REALLY, but occasionally I find it difficult to remember that a separate human being exists at the other end of the incoming text. I've been calling it "the phantom friend I hold in my hand" for a few days now. It's just words on a screen. It isn't "real." I think it's stemming from my need for actual, real-life, human communication and socialization, of which it is no secret I am sorely lacking, as has been repeatedly discussed in this blog. I am truly missing having friends in front of me. It's no secret I have avoided social events and have been reluctant to attend things in the past because I was just "not in the mood" to talk or extend social graces, which I also believe I am lacking. Part of it is my upbringing, having parents who were both happy to not socialize. Part of it is my own need for peace and quiet. But lately I am just craving personal interaction but after 20 years of not wanting or having it, it's downright DIFFICULT to find people I actually want to know better and want to spend a lot of time with without feeling like a clingy monster. So the phantom friend in my hand remains my main source of entertainment, socialization, and communication. And frankly, he/she sucks at it sometimes. I know I don't have as many friends in it as I will someday or even as I need right now, but please tell me how it can be that every single friend sometimes falls silent and noncommunicative at the same time?!
The skates are calling from the garage, saying it's time to roll with it while I try desperately to strengthen my backbone and remain steady, fall small and safe, and pop right back up to try again. I'll remember that even after the glorious moment I get to take them off.
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