What a depressing trip to the Kinko's Downriver in Michigan today, simply because of the weather. Six days' rain with no letup! Am I in Michigan or underneath Niagara Falls, I wonder...
Getting set for my weekly bowling gig with friends of my late uncle's, and every time I go, I get a dose of my past. I never competed in many sporting events in my life; perhaps because I am a born perfectionist. Perfectionists breed a harbor of ultra-competiveness which rubs it into an opponent when you succeed, but turns you into a black hole, taking everyone else with you, when you don't. I recall and now freely admit I was never the "take-it-in-stride" type when it came to anything competitive, namely bowling. Out of a league now for two years, I aim to enjoy attempting a 200 (never mind 300) every so often, and I've been doing this for nearly 30 years.
But going on these Monday trips is a play-at-your-own-risk game for me, because my childhood keeps biting me on the behind in the form of Pete, an ultra-competitive sort who never hesitiates to stick it to you when he wins. At first glance, he'd be escorted off the lanes quickly because his approach lands him on the wrong foot. You'd think he has no talent at all, especially with a straight ball. But darned if he isn't one of the lucky ones who always gets that bounce and ends up beating me. And it makes me regret being there every time he does this as he gets into my head and makes me forget why I went there in the first place. The rare times I do beat him, he has the resilience of soggy bread.
I've heard of trash-talk in hoops, and I guess this is what happens on the lanes. Why it's me he always picks on, I'll never know. I don't claim to be the pro and my scores prove it. Why do I need reminders there are those better than me?... And still I go, thinking that something might change. I guess you can't lose hope.
... I wouldn't blame some of my family for disowning me at this point. My older cousin graduated from Michigan State recently and I was primed to attend the ceremony. But I backed out for the same reasons as before: I don't trust my car on an 80-mile trip. This seems like rubbish when you consider almost $800 of work has been put into engine flushes, ignition coils, tune-ups and oil changes in the last two months. Save a so-so battery and there should be no reason why I can't criss-cross the state.
Phobias do exist, however -- three years ago the engine pistons gave out on my old LeBaron in the middle of I-94 during rush hour. That I was able to get off the road was a miracle, but I never forgot it, and that's what hampers me today. This does not bode well for a man who loves going to Canada as often as possible, but who hasn't done it in four years. Should be interesting to see which vibe wins this battle, but I can only let my family down so many times.
... And how many times do I stare opportunity in the face and freeze? I am a telecommunication major (television) from college who spent 10 years enjoying the craft. Due to transport problems and people problems from the previous regime, I faded from view. Now my friend Darlene is trying her darndest to get me back off my long layoff, but why do I seem to be resisting a chance to get back doing what I do best? It's hard to tell her I've felt totally out of place on occasion. But before I hit the lanes, I'll have to email her; at least I owe her a more complete and rational explanation.
All this, and I'm supposed to be on vacation! Almost seems like unpaid work to me!
