i still kinda suck at it.

okay, fine. i still suck at it A LOT. and i’m gonna all caps that shit because i’m nowhere even near braking without coming close to faceplanting myself on the concrete.

but as the saying goes, “most of life is showing up.”

and i’m proud to say at least i had half the balls to let jeff talk me into skating at the skate park. on a particularly windy day, to boot!

but i had fun, though. i mean, not in a drunken woohoo!!! hell yeah!!! sort of way but, you know, it was good. i’ll get there eventually. wherever “there” is and whatever “eventually” means.

“this is my gym,” jeff said, gliding gracefully around me.

“and this is my concentration camp,” was all i could reply to his statement. a remark subconsciously influenced by the book i’m reading at the moment, viktor frankl’s man’s search for meaning. a book i highly, highly(!) recommend if you haven’t read it already.

“get in the snake pit!” jeff egged me on.

i didn’t even know what a snake pit was. more importantly, i didn’t know what in the devil’s name possessed me to go ahead and actually do it, shimmying my whole entire body down the slope to get in without any forethought as to how i was gonna get out.

it was a rush of adrenaline going through that pit, alright. too much excitement i landed on my bum. now i know why they call it a snake pit. because you need to know how to maneuver your way through the twists and turns. i can only do straight lines as it is.

man, do i still have a looooong way to go.

oh, and getting out of the pit on skates? i had to samara that shit. you know, that girl on the movie, the ring, where she crawls out of the tv screen from the deep, dark well she comes from? that was me. it was actually quite funny.

all in all, it wasn’t exactly a very productive skate session as i didn’t really do much but at least give me some credit.

and the moral of the story is, i need to clock in more hours at the rink.