backs.
I’ve kind of fallen behind on creating something “beautiful” or “of worth” everyday. I need to get back on that train.
I got this terrifying jolt today, wracking my system with not so old memories of mistakes that I recently made. It wasn’t even a mistake, it just wasn’t thinking. When I rode my bike on that road today, it sent me back to summer and the weeks, months even, of distress, ache, wanting to take a really long nap and come back and have people ask “Hey, where were you?” Even though it was daytime and I could see where I was going and I knew where to steer my wheels, it was unsettling. Because that was the day when, what I think is my biggest fault but easily could be wrong, shone through, illuminating the path I rode down at one or two in the morning, temporarily invigorating but sending me into this post-awakening something. Whatever “something” was, it was bad.
I’m one of those people who can’t go past a certain place without replaying all of my memories of what I did there, who I was with, what I felt/though/said. I can’t just shrug off those impressions deep set in my brain because the mean so much to me. The mill pond, the post office, the library. Ice cream places, stores to get coffee, tables and chairs. Homes. Houses. Roads and not roads and rooms. I kind of like it, except for times like today, but I think just writing about it made me feel a little better.
Sleep. Now.
sunday. part ii.
- I’m so sick of you. Just get out of my life, please.
- No, seriously. I can’t wait until you do.
- When I wasn’t doing my homework, I decided to go on a bike ride and then decided to call Tessie and see what she was up to. I found a road that links two roads together and is extremely convenient for me, ended up talking on my phone and riding my bike uphill [it didn’t work out very well], and going to Tessie’s house for tea and talking shit about people. Ok, we didn’t really say anything bad. We just talked about ourselves and how great and horrible everything seems to be. And we talked about the tea room and that there is an adventure planned for Tuesday night including kidnapping PatHam in the middle of the night and having a picnic with him and stopping by 7-11 to see my “friend”.
- I finished my physics lab. I feel like I just conquered the world.
- I’m going to go to bed as soon as possible. I just need to to silly Studio homework [something about printing out portfolios?] and then I’m off to sleep land.
- I didn’t get a bloody nose today. But I still have time.
sunday.
- I made a ToDo list right away when I woke up. Besides showering, brushing my teeth, and eating breakfast, I haven’t really done anything.
- It’s really nice out so I’m going to go for a bike ride, maybe. Only if I easily find socks.
- I don’t like the word “horrid.”
I got another bloody nose, right after I walked out of your house.
Second in the past twenty four hours.
summation.
Honestly, I don’t even remember everything that happened yesterday. I remember walking through school like I was dead, just waiting and wishing for that gun to go off and the race to start and everything to be washed away. Cross country consumed my thoughts for ten days, ten painful days because you’re only as good as your last race and my last race sucked. As much as I love it, there comes a point where you want to turn the constant drone of splits and hills and repeats off -as hard as it is to believe, running isn’t my only thought. It tired me out, always thinking about being tired, exhausted.
And as yesterday progressed, there were waves where I would be completely at ease then feel like I was going to throw up. That’s the worst, when it sneaks up on you when you’re doing math and all of the sudden the world is kind of dulled out and all you want to do is punch the annoying girl who sits behind you because she doesn’t get what it feels like to be on your own, nervous, the fate of six other girls in your hands. I don’t care if you won states in field hockey; not to be degrading, but it’s just a game. Seasons pass, you move on. Running, it sticks to your bones. Once you’re one, you never stop being one. It’s great and horrible and beautiful and links you to so many people. [When I was in Canada this summer, I saw a kid wearing a Michigan Cross Country State Meet shirt and I followed him around for a little while because I wanted him to know that I was a runner too.]
When we got to Sunken Meadow, I was ready to get it all over with. No more waiting. We warmed up differently, we started in a completely different spot on the line. It was different. I was wearing black nail polish. The race went out fast, really fast, and it was the coldest it’s been all year. The entire experience was different. Because, in the end, I raced.
It’s not a fine line between racing and running. You do one or the other, never something in between. Because if you doubt that you raced, then you didn’t. Racing is having everything pour out, exposing your body to the world. You’re so vulnerable when you race, to your competitors, to spectators, to yourself most of all. It’s when you race that you doubt yourself the most, which only leads to running. You have to be tough to run, but you have to eat nails for breakfast, break your feet voluntarily, eat and sleep solely for training, give up having a social life, to race. It’s different.
And I raced. I was only one second behind her at the end -the difference between fourth and fifth. I don’t think I had the heart to catch her in front of everyone she wanted to impress; after all, haven’t I matured? That won’t happen upstate.
And she was so sad at the end. Maybe it was because I was so close, because she has always taken for granted that cross country was hers and that she was indestructible. I really don’t know what she thinks, but I do know that next weekend it will be different. Because, next weekend, all I want is the flatflat trails, hardfrozen ground, and to throw up at the finish line. And that if she’s going to beat me, she’s going to have to hurt to do it.
But for now, I’m not thinking about it. I’ll give it til Tuesday or Wednesday because my head needs a break.
After everything, after racing and cooling down and being compulsive, I painted/primed the sets for the musical. I finished an entire table by myself; the repetition of strokes, mindless, and instant gratification of seeing the wood turn white, was good enough for me. My back ached and it hurt to stand up and I still haven’t gotten all of the paint out of my hair and off of my feet, but it was therapeutic. I stuck around up until eight and I walked past the swing dance and my body throbbed just thinking about moving, so I went home and slept only to wake up for the SAT, which wasn’t bad at all.
I went for a run with Annie and it was nice and we walked up Dark Hollow. It was me pushing for another day to sabotage the Eagle’s Nest. My body hurt so much and I was so tired, all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. So that’s what I did. I was a bitch to Sami on the phone, she asked for a ride and I kind of said no and hung up, but I was falling asleep only to wake up and feel like I missed a really important event.
Then, I ate squash.
My life in the past thirty six hours.
friday.
My body hurts like a pirate. School + cross country county meet + painting tables for three hours and fifteen minutes = exceptional amount of pain.
And I can’t get the primer out of my hair.
Going to go collapse in bed [and not do abs and arms because I’m trying to get away from being compulsive] and sleep until I have to take the SAT. At Melville? Apparently I’m there and not Port Jeff.
thursday.
I finished drawing my feet today. Because I used a mirror, the soles and bottoms of my toes are what’s important, and I just wanted to put it out there that I think feet are beautiful. They get you so many places, they have a purpose.
The next project is white charcoal on black paper, showing the clutter of room 113. I think I’m going to draw the skeleton and use that as a focal point, full value and all. The rest is contour lines and my goal is to finish it as quick as possible because it’s fun to see finished products.
Liking art terrifies me. Because I don’t know what to think of it, I don’t know if it’s a phase. I’m slowly devoting more and more time to it [as opposed to all of the school work I’m given] and sometimes, all I want to do is just sit down and bang out a still life. Because as much as I hate them and resent them, there’s something a little bit comforting about fruit and bottles and cloth and the occasional hand, staying in place until I say so. It’s not quite instant gratification, but fast enough to make me happy and enough work to make me satisfied.
The loaf of bread is in my bed. I still need to pack. Peace.
My nails are polished black to channel Kara Goucher. They’re really shiny and distracting.
Thunnndddeerrrrrrrrrrrrr just occurred and shook my entire house so I better get this out quick before the internets craps out on me.
That was actually really cute. We should all get together more for small dinners and yellow cake on school nights. I realized how great everyone is, even though you all hate me for being an asshole and trying to get Aly to rent a bouncy bounce for her twenty first.
Really. These hands are distracting.
I feel really shaky right now.
