Thursday, December 27, 2007


It's taken six hours, but I've decided I'm depressed now. And angry. Four days off from rolling, and when I expect to get to it, there's nothing there for me. Nothing at all. It must be me. Other people don't seem to mind just sitting around and talking. Are they tired? Maybe because they got to roll.

What am I supposed to do with myself? I don't feel right about asking anyone smaller than me to roll. And the bigger guys either leave early or aren't at my level. By the time I get desperate enough to start asking people, they're just done. These lessons are so hard for me to learn.

I don't mind being slow and achy. I don't mind having moderate technical skill and being marginally retarded in terms of learning new things. I don't mind these things, because I get to roll. If I don't, all I'm left with is pain and frustration.

There's nothing to be done about it. It's nobody else's problem. We'll call it a metaphor. And mine isn't really such a bad problem to have. People avoid rolling with me because it's so much work. I guess. That's a good thing, right? I'm tough to deal with.

The way I have to deal with this little issue of mine is just get out of there. I can read the writing on the wall. I just keep hoping that someone will not be done. They are, Jack. Go work out. But it feels like quiting.

Ah well. It's not your problem. Why do you even read this crap?


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