I Need A Break From Life
I need a break. Not just a vacation (Boston and New York in a week fulfills that requirement so I’m set there), but I just need a break from life. One of those shut your phone off, disconnect from the Internet, and just chill on a beach with a beer in your hand. You know, what I used to call Tuesday back in Miami.
To be honest, I think it’s just work that’s bugging the bejesus out of me. I used to be able to stomach it because I’d just go to the gym and blow off steam afterwards, but ever since Ramadan started, and my wrist fell victim to DeQuelvain’s disease, Doctor Impossible’s physique isn’t what it used to be. Sure, I run and do abs, but weights are different. Weights let you blow off the steam, and there isn’t enough cardio in the world that can match that feeling.
Well, except for basketball.
That reminds me. I am going to start on the basketball thing again, rusty discouragments be damned.
I went last week and, to put it mildly, I was rusty. To put it not so mildly, I sucked a bunch of monkey balls. I was afraid to shoot, drive, and was beaten on defense so much I seriously wanted to stop playing in the middle of the game. The thing with me is, when I’m playing with a bunch of folks who I know are better than I am, I tense up and always look to pass because I don’t wanna fuck up. The fucking thing of it is that by doing that, I am tensing up and in turn fucking up. I know, I know. I tell myself all the time, just play your game. It’s just that my mind won’t register what I’m telling it to do. Then that just spirals out of control and I hate playing basketball, which to me is a sin. I LOVE PLAYING BASKETBALL. It is the most fun I can have with most of my clothes on, to paraphrase an old advertising cliche. So today, I’m not gonna give a fuck. I’m not going to think, not going to tense up, not doing none of that shit.
I’m just gonna play.
