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October 16th, 2005

Last night I rented Million Dollar Baby, looking for a triumph-of-the-will, have-a-dream, work-your-ass-off kind of movie. Instead, I was rewarded with (and gratified to see) a Hollywood production without a predictable happy ending.

Must’ve been tired because I didn’t wake up until 12:30 today. I am not a sleeper-iner. Not like that. Must’ve been all that bike riding, gun shooting, boardwalk strolling, rib eating, and 17 year old dating I was involved in. (The smiley black boxoffice girl. She had gotten off and was going to see The Greatest Game Every Played. I had bought a ticket to Elizabethtown and was teasing her in the company of other theater employees in the lobby. And then she says, “Well, are you going to join me?” Can’t remember for sure if there was an ‘or not’ at the end of that, but I shrugged my shoulders and went. That’s A. She left before it ended because her daddy was coming to pick her up. B) supposedly 17 is legal in South Carolina. Not that it matters….)

Today I went back to Coastal Sports and bought a year membership. If I go 15 times in the six weeks before I leave, it’ll pay for itself. I intend to do that.

Then I stopped back by the skate shop and took advantage of the $105 set up special. A Rick McCrank deck from the 45 series in Girl’s spring 2005 line-up, Indy trucks (classic), and Spitfire wheels (proven). I pumped around the wide mini-ramp. Wobbly at first. Wobbly still, but improved in the little time I stayed. Made sure I got a drop-in or two out of the way. The thing is tin coated and slippery. Took a couple spills and one of them may have given me a slight bruising on the ribs already. Not like the little kids flying around out there but I met another 35 year old and saw a guy with a Powell Peralta board.

All of this smacks of midlife. Quitting drugs, buying a skateboard, fucking 21 year olds…it’s like one big cliche burrito. But that’s not what it is. I don’t believe it.

There’s another, scarier way to look at it. Crack addict moves down south, is a social loner, preys on younger women, suddenly becomes avid gun enthusiast. Seriously, I was in the gun shop and saw the Timothy McVeigh in myself. Wondered if the owners did too. A 35 year old on a bicycle. But I’m not a psycho. I refuse to believe it.

I’m actually anti-gun. Not sure I have the energy or clarity to explain that contradiction, but on the whole–fitness, younger women, skating, scuba diving, learning new skills–these are things I’ve always been interested in. Time, guts, money, social situation, and other things can conspire against one’s interests.

But also–and here’s the thing I realized today–for whatever reason, be it biological, psychological, bad childhood, insecurity, whatever (those last two I don’t believe are factors at all, by the way), I need excitement in my life. I’m a little less fearful and a little more needy. I don’t know whether drugs supply that excitement or numb me to its absence or both, but certainly without drugs, it’s no wonder scuba diving, guns, skating, and even food come rushing in to take its place. Food is not an acceptable substitute, and I’m working on that one. (Read the Abs Diet book now and working and ramping up on it. We’re in the early stages.) But diving and skating are healthy. Guns, used correctly, are healthy too.

The realization was not only the naturalness of their role here but how that role could and should be more deliberate, calculated, and fostered with pride. The thought hit me and I shook my head: oh dear, I now have an excuse to indulge (time, money, etc.), my every exciting whim. Oh no.

All of this and I finished my 10mg Prednisone anti-inflammatories today. Seems a little better but my ring finger is definitely still numb. I’m no doctor, but I’d say that means it wasn’t a swollen tendon pinching the nerve but actual nerve damage instead. That means a long slow regenerative recovery. Ah, well, could be worse.

Entry Filed under: Lifin