Gripping Fear and Letting Go

So I had a two week break without writing, which I feel a bit guilty about. But then again it was Spring Break and I am entitled to some type of relaxing. But today I cease the ceasing.

On Friday I revisited a past fear with my friend Cara: rock climbing. I've had a thing against rock climbing since Middle School when I took it for a P.E. class back when I lived in France. French schools have a very different program when it comes to physical activity. A lot more diverse and hands on than America. Over the three years I spent going to a French school I took ping pong, swimming, wrestling (mixed with girls and guys), ping pong again, ribbon twirling (I'm not joking), soccer, track, volleyball, ping pong once more, gymnastics, badminton, rock climbing, and then a bit more ping pong. Of all these sports, rock climbing and ping pong were the ones that irked me. I could never advance all the way up the walls, and I could never advance very far in the ping pong tournaments.

Naturally, I felt inadequate and insecure during those classes, and those feelings have stuck with me anytime I do those activities. Every time I play ping pong I get a nervous chin twitch. And when I went rock climbing Friday, I felt the same nervous insecurity as I gripped onto those silly colored rocks, halfway up the wall and unable to bear on. I am proud in myself in that I made it up two different courses (one I did twice), but they were the lowest level. I did attempt to do a higher level, but came right back down from that one.

There's something about getting stuck up there on that wall... I grip onto the rocks, up against a wall, unable to pull my own weight, struck with panic and anxiety. It's as if I'm in a metaphor. A depressing yet beautiful metaphor. The panic and anxiety is completely unpractical and illogical (check out The Logical Song by Supertramp, by the way, it's a great 80s hit), yet there it is. All entangled in me. And I'm not afraid of heights. That's not the problem. I would get the same bit of anxiety if I were to play ping pong. And that's as about as a low a sport as you can get, besides limbo.

I must seem an unstable girl, but I assure you, I function just fine. I didn't cry or freak out when I was rock climbing, except internally. I manage my crazy so it doesn't seem that bad. Impression management is a big deal for me, as for the rest of the majority of the human race. There was no way I'd have mental breakdown in front of the whole gym. I get enough weird looks simply explaining this odd emotional experience to my friends.

Strung Over Wire

Finally some sunlight and warmth has arrived, adding a bit more enjoyment and taking away the need for layer upon layer of clothes.
So this weekend, I shed the sweaters and took Swayze out on a ride around town. I had no defined duration or destination except to go somewhere I've never seen and try to get completely lost.

I ended up cycling right next to a really big road at first, cars whizzing past in the 50s mph. It was a bit frightening at first. My imagination wandered and my mind entertained scenarios of crazy car swerves, tire blow outs, and sudden pot holes in the sidewalk that would launch me into the street. With such thoughts, I soon left for a bit of off-roading in an empty lot between an apartment complex and a mechanics shop that led to some woods. I hoped for a pathway, and there was one alongside the fencing of the mechanics shop for awhile, but it soon ended right at the edge of the forest. I found the remnants of a hobo's place of living: a couple couch cushions, a hat, a ramen noodle wrapper, a CD player with speakers, and some bread slices in a plastic bag. I ended up stopping for a bit, exploring the woods a little more sans Swayze, and taking a few phone camera pictures.

After awhile I rode off and back next to the big road, but soon escaped to the safety of a neighborhood. It had been so long since I had rode for the heck of it. It ushered in the memories of childhood, when I'd ride up and down streets with friends around when I was 10, sometimes stopping to explore, sometimes racing, sometimes just riding. My friend Heather would always say the same lame joke as we rode around. "Hey Julie! Ketch-up! Get it? Catch up, ketchup?"

When I was riding in the neighborhood, one I had never seen before which fulfills one of my bicycle goals I had set, all of the sudden I saw a very different looking building. The structure was not of a house but was of an octagon shape. Then I saw the title "Islamic Society of Denton." How quaint. I wasn't surprised to see the building, just surprised to see it in this location, right around a bunch of houses. I stopped for a minute to take a picture, but then the congregation exited the building. I didn't want to take a picture since that would be a bit awkward, so I decided to ride down the rode and back. And I'm glad I did. That road, Greenlee, had a lot of interesting spots.

A beautiful tree with branches like spider legs sat in the front yard of a run down house that almost looked abandoned except for the old school car and the truck parked in the open garage. One spider leg branch was so massive it need the support of a wooden splint that had been stuck in the ground. At first glance it looked as if the branch had stuck itself into the ground like and ostrich head. Across the street and a couple houses over was a fraternity house with a short school bus that had been spray painted parked in front. A couple of people sat in the lawn, and a guy played catch with two dogs. A few houses down from that was an old place that looked more like a waiting area for a train station. The mailbox in front had an anchor attached to it as well as some type of rusty lantern. The whole ride along this street I kept stopping to take pictures with my phone camera, which must have looked silly to all the Islamic people that drove by, heading home from their service.

Seeing as a lot of cars had driven by, I went back to the building to take a picture of it (as shown a few paragraphs above) and saw something that caught my eye: a pair of Nike shoes flung over the telephone wire. This instantly made me think of the movie with Shia Laboeuf back in his Disney days where he has the worst luck and ends up getting for trouble over a pair of shoes. At least I think it was because of a pair of shoes. The movie was "Holes" if I'm not mistaken. Anyway, I had to get a good angle of these shoes. So, seeing as no one was around, I decided to climb atop the big brick rectangle mailbox in front of the Islamic Society. I ended up scratching my leg up on the brick, which drew blood. It looks like some clawed animal took a swipe at my thigh. And the picture that I ended up taking from that angle wasn't even worth the hassle. Seeing as blood was trickling down my leg, I rode over to the frat house to ask for a band-aid, but to no avail. But I did find out that the frat boys take the short bus when they go downtown for clubs. Very "Night at the Roxbury."

So I rode back to the dorm to tend to my wound. Once cleansed and bandaged, I decided to ride to a hill and do a bit of reading. I headed back to the bike rack and there I found a couple bicyclists sitting on the sidewalk. It looked like the aftermath of a big fall, so I went to see if they needed band-aids. Turns out they were alright, and I went on ahead to enjoy some hill reading with a nice view of the highway.