flurries

of words...

tipped off by off innocuous things.

seriously, you don't want to click read more unless you have insomnia, then you'll be asleep soon



last night, first a comment triggered an email, then a title of a shared article elicited a big follow up, again potentially unsolicited, and maybe not appropriate but it felt like the right direction at the time and given that i've been carrrying a clearer head since getting back than I have in months, and given that it was after indoor trainer workout, even extra clear head.

but the writing was physical in an unexpected way. Brain just freaking LIT THE FUCK UP when i read the title the dear friend shared on FB, like holyshitallthedotsjustfellintoplaceandineedtoputwordsdownNOW

and i did...

and i think i got them out in as clear a manner as inspired GeWilli is capable of. Perhaps more than the one beer might have quelched the furtive need to get the words out, but then it would have prevented the sudden wave of calm once I did.

I've been reading Oliver Sacks' memoir On The Move. So brilliant. So many holyshit moments of clarity, that seem to be lost when the next round comes into play. One thing the writing. I've always written. Poorly, but from that first journal, and then from a few stories, words have always kind of flown and formed. So many years just there, living in the written form. Letters to old girlfriends, letters to potential girlfriends, to crushes, or to myself. I never really had much of a verbose correspondence with my guy friends, we kind of just grunted and drank beer, or it was like with my brothers, we all argued and talked over each other because we all had way too much to say all at the same time and so it was just usually easier to drink beer and shut up and stuff.

But words, words the english teachers i had in high school thought horrible and poor and not well constructed, yet history teachers and anthro teachers couldn't praise my essays enough. It was frustrating, but writing.

Words.

I'm not terrible at putting them together. Spoken or written. But sometimes my brain dictates a slower pace than is possible with instant messenger, or talking, and unformed thoughts or unintended phrases make their way out before i can process downstream implications. Heck most of the time i don't think about them here but then I do usually re-read and edit.

The Sacks book is in my head.

My oldest is up right now writing an essay for school due tomorrow. So yes, she said "You should get some sleep Daddy." I should. But then kind of like last night brain is buzzing.

There's a freaking rock tumbler of insane issues in my head, but it is going to take a while to get his batch finished i think.

Last night's tempest of words...  hopefully landed with the appropriate optimism and hope as intended but one never knows.

The tire issue on Monday night was humerous in hindsight and my frustrations were totally blown out of the water when time and time again, relaying the story, people's reaction were holyshit way to go dude. Completely counter to my feeling like failing and losing time, when I didn't really do either.

Perception.

After the intensely physical symptoms after writing last night, i wound up with some of the most sensational dreams ever. Strange.

Post nationals has been the opposite of the ends of other seasons (so far). Last night's trainer session at the shop was pretty damn awesome. Legs sucked, but not too badly, I took a tiny bit off but still managed to kick my own ass. Still need to convince Goldberg that he's not too old or slow to bring his bike and trainer to the shop and hang out for an hour or so pedaling. Things have been great. This week better than the last. Maybe because sick is behind me now even though i'm still fighting lingering post nasal junk. Or there are other intangibles. That final bit of 'click' goodness. Still plenty of hurtness, the whole feeling isolated and left out of the fun parties still lingers, will likely forever, childhood imprinting is insanely hard to break down and fix. But even in that aspect I can step out of my head and look around it and recognize improvements.

GeWilli is a ripe pile of work. But hey, look at the amazing shit Sacks did, took him a while to get it sorted out too. Not that i'm comparing myself, I'd never.

But there's this weird change that is happening. That I dare say the 'Vision Quest™'  (™ FMVDB) was legit. That it really did serve a purpose beyond any wildest expectation. Everyone involved. From way back to now. From when i was in the deepest darkest grips of a legit depression that maybe one friend actually understood how bad it was...  each had an influence. But this year, struggle of struggle years beyond even '14s struggles, they were different but more formative. More in line with the 'Vision Quest™' in that it was a path of awakening discovery. Who cares. Negacoach is asleep right now, esp if he's trying to read this in the morning, i hope he has a back up snooze alarm. But That's again, the who cares, a defensive deflection on a very serious matter. Who the fuck is GeWilli? Most of you probably know me better than I know me.

The changes though, GabbyD really actually totally completely nails it on her last post. I related to everything she said and she's right. And I'm a stubborn dumbass and had to figure that all out the hard way, on my own. Why? Because I do fucking everything the hard way. It is the internet joke, or at least it was when I still cared about what other people ate, can't give a shit anymore because people just still don't get it, but what, hey, Vox Clamitus Deserto. Give up. Fuck it. Eat your fucking cereal, drink your fucking orange juice. Fuck it. Watch your blood glucose spike fucking sky high and wonder why you need to have a 100 calorie fat free snackie cake to keep from killing someone.  (so maybe i haven't totally changed)

The changes though. Much like the early monotony of knitting a really big fucking sweater. knit purl knit purl knit purl....  why do you keep thinking happy thoughts, why do you keep being positive, why to you keep reminding yourself to remember to find the one bit that makes you happy from that moment. The one high five from the girl in the wedding dress on Heckle hill and hearing her gorgeous distinctive drawl declare "That's MY boy." Esp since she's my little sister* that moment brightens and washes out the negativity that followed. That moment driving through the biltmore estate when the DJ Scene melody mix hit it HARD driving a VW to VWIP parking and I shedd so many tears I thought i'd wreck it on that stupid narrow bridge. Tears of joy. The changes, they take time. Brains take time to rewire. It ain't a hard reboot kind of thing.

And motherfuckinggooddamnit it isn't like flipping a switch. And telling someone to just flip the switch? I've said it before, don't, ever, fucking, do, that. Unless your goal is to make them even more depressed and miserable. And maybe that's how it was intended when said to me. But i'll hold out hope and stay positive and dispense with that thought.

That focus, but mostly the patience, but even more importantly, the guidance. The help with those first dozen rows of knit purl knit purl... i think i must have dropped a good giant pile of stitches, and had to go back and fix them. But soon the focus wasn't on just the fucked up, the dropped stitches, it was like the real job, the hey you fucked up, how do we keep from doing that again. Wait. I have been really good at that for 20+ years, maybe I can use some of those tools to help fix my own broken self.

I still felt plenty broken a good huge number of times at Nationals. But it was broken on my own terms. I know where the dropped stitches are, and I know I can pick them up the next time around. I don't need to unravel that last perfect row. The flaws left from picking up the dropped ones as i come back to them will add more character.

They will be like Mater's dents. They will cease to be a point of weakness, and become a renewed point of strength. A scar no less, but still, my face under this beard shows more acne scars from childhood than any kid deserves to endure, but hey, i can grow a beard that is awesomely functional in this weather. Scars are what we see, what is seen. But they aren't points of weakness. They can be in the wrong mindset though, esp from the inside and under a dark cloud.

I'm genuinely excited by life, by possibilities and by this summer and next fall. I'm inspired by friends, I'm looking forward to teaching this spring, like for real adjunct/my own class and all that bullshit. It means far less to me than anyone else this title, what has value there for me? the challenge, the new faces and the chance to do it my way, no compromises other than ones I make within myself. I get to be me. Doing what I love. Sharing my enthusiasm with others. And of course, let's buzzkill it from the start in GeWilli fashion: I'm teaching a grad level course for free. Yup. Find the one knucklehead who decided making the class happen was more important than trying to get blood out of a stone. But of course that doesn't bother me. I'm excited. So looking forward to it. SO hoping the class isn't full (not looking good, nearly full and no one will be able to sign up for it for a week and I've done no advertising for it) but if it is full? Totally going to have fun and teach.

My bikes are in pieces from nationals. Still. I'm riding the garbage truck. Geared lower than my CXNats SSCX race bike (so dumb, i'm an idiot btw, i NEED a mechanic/coach/trainer on course on site to make sure i don't fuck shit up on my own if i ever try this shit again).

So I should re-read this right? HOLYFUCKTOOMANYWORDS (okay i've written more but yeah...  woops)

I could crack a beer and keep talking. Why? Brain still isn't quiet. Something hasn't been said, still trying to get out but I'm not sure what.

Tomorrow sadly as I realize this right now writing is an early day, sooooooscrewed, but maybe short enough day to add an addendum or post script or to actually read this and say why did i write it and revert it all to draft.

End: Bottom Line: good place i am

also - BTW thanks and i mean that honestly and w/o sarcasm (yes possible) to the AHTBM for the kit this year, it has completely disavowed me of any notion to try and make a skinsuit to match gewilli's jumpsuit. Which means maybe we'll be in new kits this year, the team, prep'n for Hartford.

heddwch
G

PS - tried to read - scared myself - posting, edit maybe tomorrow