Thursday, March 26, 2009

You Picked A Real Bad Time

Abtruse melancholy today.

I read something yesterday that has thrown me off stride.

If you have ever played a sport where contact is expected (like football or hockey) or one where contact is not strictly allowed but happens anyway (like basketball or soccer), you know that, while in the heat of battle, you carry in your head a sense of where the other players are and where they should be headed. You can't always describe it, but you just kind of know it. Therefore, when you're about to make contact with someone else, you're half expecting it.

What I read yesterday was the mental equivalent of being blindsided. It wasn't bad, or tragic, or anything other than completely unexpected. I wasn't ready.

It reminds me of a free throw rebound once in high school, when I got shoved suddenly from behind, winding up on the floor. It wasn't so much the shove, which you kind of expect, but it was the fact that it came from someone I wasn't tracking-so it was the surprise more than anything.

I haven't felt right since.


  1. I know the exact feeling. Heart-breaking. I hope you can resolve it. I hope I can too.

  2. Very sorry to hear that.

    It is jarring, isn't it? Like you were wearing sunglasses indoors, and then you take them off-everything is the same, yet at the same time, it isn't.

    Like the old Steven Wright joke-"everything in my house was stolen and replaced by an exact replica".

  3. Nice analogies. You're a lovely writer.


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