So I don't know what it is about sports, but they get me sooo riled up. Last Thursday was definitely not a good day for me. It started with work, which isn't my favorite place, but I'm grateful to be working. Then I was looking forward all week to my intramural flag football game that night. It didn't go so hot. There was a TERRIBLE call, like the zebra-referees from those beer commercials, you know the ones with the horse playing football? Well ya those zebras would have made a better call. Then I dropped an easy touch down, we went for 2 to take the lead, and ended up missing it instead of just taking the 1 to tie, and some guys on the team lack a little bit of football sense. Need less to say we lost, mind you I hate losing, but I can handle it. What drove me crazy is that because of poor decisions and lack of execution we lost by 1 FRICKEN point to a 5 man team against our 7 men!!! (heavy exhale) But what are you gonna' do? I went home mad to find my BYU cougars being throttled by TCU and playing terrible football. After watching the tail end of the first half, and a majority of an excruciatingly bad second half, yelling at the TV by myself the whole time mind you. I decided I had had enough and was going running. I laces up my sweet kicks and visited some friends first to see if I was capable of feeling better before running. I wasn't so I stretched a little bit, then hit the pavement. I ran hard up to my best friend Mikhael's to try and defuse my mood a little bit. While there I ended up doing something stupid to one of her room mates that required a GOOD apology, and that actually helped take my mind off myself a lot. Then me and Mikhael jogged across campus over to the third corner of trio Zack's house. We talked to some people there for a while then headed back to take Mik home. She was having a stressful evening as well and wanted to hear stories, so I thought hard and told her the best stories I could think of my child hood the whole way home. She went inside, and I ran home in the frigid 48 degree fall air, trying to clear my head. I get home, eat something, shower and hit the sack.
Sorry for the boring play by play of my day, but I needed to vent that, but yesterday helped me make a realization today. I'm sick of talking. Talking is the biggest waste of time in my life. I burn more time flapping my gums about meaningless drama BS than Richard Simmons does time doing jazzer-cise. I don't get why I'm obsessed with it. I have accomplished nothing of note by talking about anything. Obviously there will always be issues that will have to be talked out, and they will be, but other than that I'm setting a new goal to cut down on my useless jibber jabber. I'm going to start by reducing to my talk by say 50%. So next time I start a sentence with "dude I don't know..." stop me and check to see if I'm about to drown you with a deluge of my grief-y filth.
Hold me to this people! I am a sick man with a disease, and only YOU can help!
Violet Ellen Meng: the arrival novel
8 years ago
1 comment:
I think I figured out how to help you with your talking problem. You have to come to the realization you are a child of Lisa Tracy and there is nothing you can do about the love to talk. It flows through your veins and there is nothing you can do about it. Don’t worry both Caleb and Valerie are the same way. The more I think about it so am I. . . dang it. . . Don’t worry about it. It is a characteristic that make you unique. Instead of making it a negative characteristic make it a positive one by turning it in to a trade mark of yours.
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