WJP #012 – Gasping for air…

It wasn’t a choke.  It was a collapse.  And collapse they did.  Oh, The New York Mets teased their fans as only they do, with a spectacular outing the day before.  Flirting with the first no-hitter in franchise history, John Maine painted a masterpiece.  The bats came out with a fury.  And, in the end, it was all for naught but a lil’ bit of late drama and some heavy teasing for their loyal fans.

So, I have mourned and raged and now sense has entered the picture and I can see it might be a very eventful off-season with surgeries, healing and trades.   Meanwhile, I have closure (for the most part) and I can now concentrate on the new project that will dictate the direction of my life in it’s next stage.

I despise gyms.  Really despise them.  Always have.  I loathe gym rats, you know those people who literally live there and swear by the constant sweat, faux determination, and their utter rejection that all they are doing is feeding their unspoken addiction.  I used to run into these strange beings and wonder, “..will they ever really get it that life outside is better than inside?” while stoically tendering my workout with much pain and self-loathing.

Then there are the Aphrodite/Adonis compex beings.  They’re actually worse than the gym rats.  At least they understand this is their house.  This other set believes it’s okay to invade someone else’s space and then make demands.  They have added bottled water, assorted bars and chews and pills, and the poison to a true gym rat, nautilus machines.  All of this plus the concentration on cardio rather than bulk, they take on the air of superiority and shun and ridicule both the gym rat and the occasional passer-by who is just trying to get in shape to fit into those jeans from three years ago.

So, while I hate the gym, I will still attend but only when nothing else will do.  Right now, my wife and I are in the process of slowly, methodically changing the scope of our humble abode.  So, that means all the old, buried, never used shit gets tossed and that means regular trips to the garbage house and dumping magazines, papers, and other items all the while setting up carts and new tools. 

We have a new Tassimo.  My wife is far more a coffee drinker than me, but I will say that the Jacobs Macchiatta will change your life.  I have a shot of energy that I haven’t had in about four years.  It’s like liquid crack.  We have a new microwave – it’s been over ten years since we’ve gotten one and it was about time.  The kitchen is finally almost streamlined as is the dining room.  And now I have a ton of crap to throw out and re-arrange and move.

A work out.

It’s also a trip down memory lane.  What I kept was indicative of what I liked and disliked and I’ve found that I can severely streamline much of my past into three catagories – sex, video games and delusion.  Wow, not nearly as deep as I thought.  I’ve also realized that I was much more of a cocky bastard than even I first realized.  All of this knocks the air out of you for a quick nano-second.  Not a full blow, but enough that you need to take a few extra breaths to let it all marinate in the brain.

 I’ve also seen hope.  The dreams of a young man unfullfilled.  Hopes changed but still remaining the same in the end.  Right now, I’m gasping for air and hoping to get a second wind for the process at hand.

Later….

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~ by sladewilson on October 1, 2007.

One Response to “WJP #012 – Gasping for air…”

  1. Speaking of gasping for air….
    My Minnesota Vikings are on life support. Our three quarterbacks, Larry, Curly, and Moe, are not starting quality quarterbacks. Not one of them could step in and be the starter. Tarvaris Jackson is the only one with potential, but I fear he is still to young to lead the team to victory.
    So, as you have closure, I’m still having seizure as I watch the team wallow in the mire for yet another year.

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