I think the closest I ever came to anything of "this is what I want to be when I grow up" is one of those little kid aspirations that I will tell you never ever would pan out. In light of recent events, both in my life, and in those of the idol I looked up to years ago, it got me thinking.
When I was about 8, I wanted to be an ice skater. Honestly. In 1994 at the Winter Olympics, Nancy Kerrigan was my hero. She made it look effortless. I remember hopping about my house, pretending on was twirling about on the ice. I finally took a year or so of skating lessons around the age of 10, and I don't think I was too bad.
However, I went ice skating for the first time last week with my dear friend Monica, the first time I've been on the ice since about 1996, and let me tell you... it's not like riding a bike. It doesn't just come back to you. Having grown about a foot and a half taller since the last time I skated, the fear of falling had also grown. As my mom used to joke when I was younger, falling is scarier to taller people, because you have further to go before you reach the ground. I will attest to that. If I hadn't had Monica by my side, I would have willing paid others to prevent me from having to make my way on to the ice. I did bite it rather hard once, and nearly two weeks later, I still have a lovely purple bruise on my left knee to prove it, but beyond that, I survived. Definitely a workout, of sheer terror, if nothing else.
Nearly twenty years since kindergarten and I still don't know that I ever had a practical aspiration. I mean, I can't imagine doing anything other than what I'm doing (as "practical" as it is), but do I want to do it forever? I'm sure my parents would kill me, but I'd love to dabble a little in everything. ...okay, maybe not ice skating.
Despite not having any idea what I wanted to be doing as an adult, I did see an older version of myself. Well, not really. I still have a hard time seeing myself any differently than who I am now. I can't see myself in 5 or 10 or 30 years. No clue. But there were certain things about my younger self I was sure I would grow out of.
The one I thought I would grow out of, but still managed to hang out to? My lack of coordination. At 10 days shy of being 24, I still trip over my own feet, run into doorways, drop things, spill things, etc. This would be one thing if I did them like any normal person, or even as infrequently as any other person. But no, every single slip-up is like an all-or-nothing, I end up unintentionally making as big a fool of myself as possible.
Yesterday, for example. I managed to hit myself in the head with a water bottle that fell out of my purse when I bent over; when walking down a hall, in order to make room for the person I was passing, I ran into a door (mind you, there was plenty of room, I just over-accounted); I opened a door into a 3rd grader at school and saw him today and thanked my lucky stars he didn't have a black eye (soooo sorry about that, Ryan); the road was blocked on my way home from the gym, so I took side roads and surprise- got totally lost in the town I've been living in for a year and half; and finally, opened a packet of grape sports drink to mix in my water bottle, it ripped open, going all over the floor and table at the gym, and the left half of my chest, ribs and stomach on my white v-neck undershirt, making it look like I had done a self tie-dye on my workout clothes... the epitome of grace I am not.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, one thing I have gotten significantly better at is being outgoing. Those of you who have known me for a short while can't imagine me being shy, but those of you who have known me 10, 20+ years probably can perfectly imagine the 4, 5, 6, even like 12-year-old me, the awkward, impossibly shy little one that I was. When I was in 1st grade, my teacher made us take turns reading books out loud to the class, because this was the only time I would EVER talk in class, when absolutely forced to. (Ending a sentence in a preposition, who am I to teach grammar??)
When I was about 10 or 11, I remember riding in the car with my mom, and her talking to me about needing to open up to people, or else they would think I was snobby. I am not a snob, nor have I ever been, and the idea that someone would misinterpret my fear of talking to them as such was even worse than the fear of having to talk to them! S0, slowly but surely, I turned into this ramble-y, bubbly person that I am today (if you think I am neither, then you need to get to know me a little better...). I'm not exactly jumping to take the mic from Miss Michelle in Where's That Comma? but it also doesn't make me break out into a cold sweat either... though it might if she makes them sing me "Happy Birthday" next week, as she's threatened to... (another preposition!)
Did this blog start on one topic and move completely to a different one? Well, I did tell you I ramble...
