I discovered a new-to-me band yesterday. I purchased their latest CD, and have been listening to them on Amazon Prime Music on repeat almost nonstop ever since. The band is called, 21 Pilots. I’ve only watched two of their videos so far, but liked both. Their music speaks to me. I love when that happens. Falling in love with a band or singer is like getting a new pair of running shoes that fit perfectly. They make running even more enjoyable, because they’re fresh. I keep listening to, Stressed Out, over and over. It’s probably a good thing that I’m not listening to NIN, Only, on repeat any longer. That entire album (With Teeth), speaks to me in my own language. A rare gem.
I listen to it in order on repeat when recovering from a meltdown, sometimes. Brutal honesty can be so comforting. I don’t like using brutal as a qualifier, but the average person does seem to find honesty brutal. It frustrates the shit out of me. I’m feeling good, overall. I’ve spent today in deliberate isolation in order to get started on my new project. I work best in isolation, with no interruptions that aren’t an emergency. My cat has figured out how to crawl into my lap without disturbing me. It’s funny, as I’ll look down, and see her there, and not remember how she got there. Now that the weather is cooling off, I appreciate her warmth. I have more medical appointments to contend with in the near future. Eye doctor is next. I need new glasses.
I’m glad I’ve never relied heavily on clear vision. I wonder if everyone born with astigmatism is this way. I have a heightened ability that I can’t quite pinpoint to compensate. It works well enough. It makes me suck at sports, though. I’m athletic, but I’m not an athlete. I’ve always felt like my athletic ability was wasted on me. I was the best basketball player on my team, until we began running plays. I couldn’t control my adrenalin well enough to memorize and carry out plays. I went from getting by on enthusiasm, to bench warming. I felt like I was too dumb to grasp the concepts being drawn on the chalkboard, and didn’t want to announce this fact, by asking someone to explain.
I did better in volleyball. I understood moving my feet to get behind the ball. I hated it, though. I kept getting friction burns because my knee pads wouldn’t stay in place. For a non-contact sport, volleyball is painful. I did well in Cross Country and Track and Field. I liked them well enough, but I don’t have that competitive spirit that drives athletes. Not even close. I don’t understand why anyone would want to compete with someone else. It makes no sense. Everything’s relative. You can only compete against yourself. I’m off to read, (Fallen Dragon, by Peter F. Hamilton).