savana

Well.
Here I am.
Just got home from the gym and finding myself in an odd predictement.
First... I didn't even bother to change out of my gym clothes before mixing myself a mean martini, complete with these blue cheese stuffed olives that Trader Joes carries just to keep me on my toes. There's just something about these damn olives that I crave more then the cocktail itself. Which is odd to say, cause baby really likes her cocktails. In moderation. That's the bitch about drinking right. A few makes you feel like some sexy beast, while a few too many has you dancin' like some cheap 80's throwback in the middle of the bar, thinking you look smoking hot, when really you look like a crazed loon dancing to shitty music on a haggard dancefloor. Alcohol is like that though... it loves you juuuuust ..........enough. Then it drops a tree on your car, screws your dog, steals your wife and leaves empty beer cans in the living room while the TV play snowy reruns of Mr. Ed. . Anyway, that's not why I'm here tonight. I'm here, to just ramble really. It's been awhile since I've felt a good rant... and well- here goes it. For starters our first real bout is coming up and I've thinking to myself, all the things you think when you want to be fucking outstanding at something. What if I die? What if some huge chick named Bertha takes me out when I'm thinking about something retarded, like the fact that the velcro on my elbow pad is sticking and catching to my shirt? What if I flail and make an ass out of myself? On and On these sounds and pitiful voices go round in my head, till I'm the equivlant of a shivering mass in the corner. Till tonight. For some reason that voice in my head that says " oh hell no" finally came back from its cheery-o vacation in an alternate plane to finally spoke up and answer the barrage of futile questions. I mean really.. your GOING to fall down, suck it up. You fall of your beach cruiser - sober and you survived that. You've taken a hit... both from a person AND a sidewalk (bastard sidewalk) you've given hits sucessfully. You've blocked, you've jammed, you've fallen, you've hurt the next day. SO WHAT is all the fuss about? Then it hit me.. I"ve been scared of not playing the game well, of making stupid mistakes. Once again the voice came back to verbally bitch slap me... "dood" said the voice "have you gone mental?" it shrieked.. " your going to make mistakes.. your going to fall, Bertha's gonna hit you, sit on you, pick a fight with you" "then your going to get up, keep skating and haul ass for your team" and on and on this pep talk went. Till I realized it's true. So you know what I did then? Nothing. For the first time in along time, I did nothing. I didn't fight it, I didn't argue, I just accepted that I'll go down, I'll get up and maybe on a good night... I'm gonna send someone flying into the crowd, and in a possible turn of events... she'll repay the hit. We'll high five, life we'll go on... expect with more bruises and way more awareness. Here goes nothing. Now... I'm in need of another martini and if I'm lucky, there's one olive left in that there jar, just waiting for a slighty braver Savana to come pluck it from it's salty home. HAHAHA.. that last sentence is so ridiculous, I couldn't help but laugh. I love cheese.