fine, so we'll try this again
ok, so i don't really think that this will be much of a return, but i'm going to return. mostly b/c people tell me that i should post my assassins stories. but since i send those to a listserve of 20 people with every creepy move i make, i'm not sure that serves a purpose. also, i refuse to do so until the game is over, lest anyone learn my creepy secrets. tho i am very proud of how creepy i am.
anyways, i was talking to ave about my PA app and was thinking about what i wrote last year for the app i never completed or submitted and described it as the piece of writing perhaps most filled with "tone" in all the world. so here it is---b/c i know that you love nothing more than reading random crap i wrote about a year ago and am not cutting and pasting here in my effort to perhaps (but probably not) revive my blog. also, i think that blogger has missed me b/c it just took me like 20 minutes to sign in and that was a pain in my ass. also, i was just going to post and say that i'm not the sort of person who believes in talking about long absences and lapses in friendship; i'd rather just gloss right over that. except that making that remark obviously makes it not true.
anyways, now for a trip down memory land and for the most tone-riffic thing ever---
Oh softball, how cruel you can be. I’d like to start by saying that I’ve always had a severe aversion to team sports. I’m not exactly the most athletically inclined person and when you combine this with a sense of Catholic guilt, team sports just aren’t for me—I feel single-handedly responsible for anything that goes wrong. It’s not pretty.
But I wanted to be a part of this whole UVA softball legacy and I didn’t want to be the girl who refused to play and I’m all gung-ho Section I and all that. So I sign my liability waiver and show up to our first lunchtime game, playing Section H. Put me in coach, I’m ready to play. Only I’m not really. Caveat: when telling this story, I always have to give my excuse before I give the embarrassing part, so here goes with the excuse. I’m diabetic and one of the things that happens when I’m hypoglycemic is that my muscles freeze, especially when I try to move suddenly. (We can all see where this is going, right?) Anyways, my bloodsugar is probably about 40, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone, so up to bat I go.
Well, I hit the ball. I’m still proud of this fact. And then, I start my lumber to first base. Only I don’t even manage to start. Rather, my legs freeze completely and I fall flat on my face in the dirt right in front of home, my feet still on the plate. (Other people in my section have fallen while running the bases, but they’ve all at least made it somewhere on the road to first.) Meanwhile, my sectionmates, well aware that I’m going to be thrown out at first, have all turned to watch me show up; they can’t figure out why I’m not arriving. At which point they see H’s catcher helping me to my feet as we both laugh hysterically at what a clod I am. Now I make it clear that I’ll play if we’re short on girls, but I’d be way more comfortable wearing my flip-flops and cheering the team on from behind the fence.
anyways, i was talking to ave about my PA app and was thinking about what i wrote last year for the app i never completed or submitted and described it as the piece of writing perhaps most filled with "tone" in all the world. so here it is---b/c i know that you love nothing more than reading random crap i wrote about a year ago and am not cutting and pasting here in my effort to perhaps (but probably not) revive my blog. also, i think that blogger has missed me b/c it just took me like 20 minutes to sign in and that was a pain in my ass. also, i was just going to post and say that i'm not the sort of person who believes in talking about long absences and lapses in friendship; i'd rather just gloss right over that. except that making that remark obviously makes it not true.
anyways, now for a trip down memory land and for the most tone-riffic thing ever---
Oh softball, how cruel you can be. I’d like to start by saying that I’ve always had a severe aversion to team sports. I’m not exactly the most athletically inclined person and when you combine this with a sense of Catholic guilt, team sports just aren’t for me—I feel single-handedly responsible for anything that goes wrong. It’s not pretty.
But I wanted to be a part of this whole UVA softball legacy and I didn’t want to be the girl who refused to play and I’m all gung-ho Section I and all that. So I sign my liability waiver and show up to our first lunchtime game, playing Section H. Put me in coach, I’m ready to play. Only I’m not really. Caveat: when telling this story, I always have to give my excuse before I give the embarrassing part, so here goes with the excuse. I’m diabetic and one of the things that happens when I’m hypoglycemic is that my muscles freeze, especially when I try to move suddenly. (We can all see where this is going, right?) Anyways, my bloodsugar is probably about 40, but I don’t want to disappoint anyone, so up to bat I go.
Well, I hit the ball. I’m still proud of this fact. And then, I start my lumber to first base. Only I don’t even manage to start. Rather, my legs freeze completely and I fall flat on my face in the dirt right in front of home, my feet still on the plate. (Other people in my section have fallen while running the bases, but they’ve all at least made it somewhere on the road to first.) Meanwhile, my sectionmates, well aware that I’m going to be thrown out at first, have all turned to watch me show up; they can’t figure out why I’m not arriving. At which point they see H’s catcher helping me to my feet as we both laugh hysterically at what a clod I am. Now I make it clear that I’ll play if we’re short on girls, but I’d be way more comfortable wearing my flip-flops and cheering the team on from behind the fence.
posted by laura at 10:50 PM
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