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12:39 p.m. - 2005-08-22
Memories and cords.
Its ten degrees cooler today and I had my first craving for corderoy, sweaters and boots.

The craving was so strong in fact, that I trudged over to the shopping center, and got a pair of brown and a pair of sage green cords on sale. Gotta love the back to school sales. I was looking at all those kids buying clothes, and thinking, "Suckers! At least I don't have to buy spiral notebooks and number 2 pencils too!!"

Then I thought about going back to work, and thought that carrying around a backpack filled with books wouldn't be too bad right now.

Remember the first day of school? New sneakers, new jeans so dark and hard they cracked when you sat? Seeing all the kids you went to school with the year before and wondering which ones would still be your friends, and which would fade away into the background?

I loved that first day. So full of promise. Anything was possible. Except passing math of course.

And the excitement of track sign-up. Winder and Spring. I loved track with a passion. Not running, but shot put, discus, high jump and, when forced, hurdles. But that was a rare occasion. I hated running. My lungs would burn so bad. And I ran like an elephant. I wasn't out of shape, I just sort of bounced really hard when running and never got anywhere. I guess I just wasn't built to be a runner. Besides, I was dealing with undiagnosed athsma and I think that pretty much killed any aspiration I may have had to be a runner.

I was much more strong than fast. My coach pushed the weights more than anything else. She was a maniac. It was good for me for the most part. I remember my muscles getting itchy if I stayed away from the gym for more than a day. In fact, I got so strong, that I had to be spotted by this big security guard guy when I did my squats because nobody else was strong enough to pull the weights off me if I dropped them.

Talk about embarrassing. I had these big boobs that I was really uncomfortable with, and wore this weight belt that made them stick out even more, and I had this guy crossing his arms like a seat belt around me to keep my back straight.

I can't imagine how red my face was. Of course, I could play it off as exertion. Looking back, the dude was pretty big and ugly. Probably my first big, ugly crush.

I'm still pretty strong, but probably only half of what I was, and definately pudgier and softer. I've turned into a bonafide 30 something woman.

I totally remember when I lost my athletic edge. I had this gay boyfriend (remember?) in college who was a really bad writer/poet/hippie. The gym was something foreign to him. He hated it when I would go to the gym, or jog around the college instead of sitting with him while he did his homework. It meant I might meet men more like myself, and I'd be abandoning his need for control.

After the tenth or so time he cried when I went to thr gym, I eventually stopped going. He broke my heart over it. I felt mean and abusive for leaving him when he needed me.

Where were Sully, Six and the rest of our crew then? I start hanging out with meet them until I was a senior, and I had broken up with the gay boyfriend (who incidentally was responsible for me meeting Six). So he had one good quality. LOL!

But, I just imagine what Sully would have said in the same situation. At that time, I was still such a repressed little thing. I'd never said damn no less fuck. All it would have taken back then was a good "go fuck youself" to take care of the crying, sniveling, manipulative little twit. Something I should have done when I broke up with him the first time, two months into the twisted relationship. He cried and told me he was going to commit suicide.

He woudn't have. He was too much of a wussy boy. But, no matter. It wasn't my problem and I took it to heart. I thought I was so important that I could keep someone from killing himself simply by being his girlfriend.

Friends, ain't nobody so special that they can make someone else happy, or make them not commit suicide if they really want to do it. To think that you are means you are a narcisist and you need to get over yourself.

Lesson learned. Long ago.

But, what I really regret, after all these years, isn't the time I wasted. Those years got me to Six, Sully, H, D-land, and everyone else who've become to special to me.

What I really regret, is that I lost my heart for the gym and athletics, and never got it back. It used to be my passion and my salvation. The hours I spent working out were the most spiritual, the most safe, the most enjoyable hours I spent.

I want my groove back damnit! If I could, I'd sue his ass for it. Can you sue someone for sapping your groove?

At least I have two nice pairs of cords for the fall and winter to look forward to.


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