Six years since I got this xanga. Almost anyway, in about three weeks that will be the time. I've decided to celebrate by starting a new blog. Not that I don't have many, and who doesn't these days it seems like. In my psychology class though, we discussed the emergence of "young adulthood" in the past two decades. It has emerged in much the same way that "teenage" did. Always existed but is not allowed as a luxury of Western Lifestyle.
It turns out, I'm nearly no longer a part of that "young adulthood" thing though since the cut off dates are 25. So, it's only right to curtail a blog that has carried me through young adulthood and start a blog for adulthood. It will always be here, this blog though. And it's been good to me.
Today we played soccer and I got this sense of being part of a greater picture. Someone came to play who said that he had played here five years ago, with Bill then. Or maybe some Albanians. And when I heard talk like this before earlier in the summer I dismissed it. I had my year or so of playing with my people and I never saw any talk of these other people. I still take a little credit for scheduling consistency, though I shouldn't really.
Here was this man who hadn't played in months, years with anyone there, and he was returning and there was still a group. I got this warm fuzzy, "If I move away I can always move back and play another time" feeling.
Alban continues to be nice almost, and if he keeps it up I'll get used to it and perhaps start caring again. I said to Kari this evening, "I play better than I used to, but I'm not sure if I play as hard." The problem with playing hard and caring is that a few ill conceived statements or bad plays and you're rattled. Why make a play if you'll fail at it. And I keep expecting there to be some kind of other shoe dropping.
I'm good enough to make eighty percent of my passes, but only about ten percent of my shots. I'm slower than I wish I was, and if I play to hard I worry that I won't be able to make it through two hours of this. And I'm disgusted with how "scared" I am of the ball. I also wish that I would remember to follow through, even on things where it doesn't look like a shot, pass, block, and attempt to get it will make it.
I know that I don't run as hard as I can, because even if I do I am slower than every other player, with very few exceptions. And although a great deal of the time my "femaleness" fades from my mind, there are other times (when running hard) that I am acutely aware of it. I am not sure that the loss of ten pounds, like I tell myself, would really change these facts.
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