Self

My knee hurts today and it makes me glad. I scraped and bruised it while attempting a one footed turn on roller skates. The injury doesn’t prevent me from accomplishing anything I want to get done, which is good. Instead feel the twinges and think “Oh yeah, I got to do a fun thing yesterday.”

I didn’t expect the roller skate outing to be as much fun as it was. I was one of three adult women shepherding a dozen girls ages 8-11. I expected to be bored while watching the girls skate. But then we walked in and the rink was almost empty. And the music was playing. And sitting still seemed like a silly choice. So I ponied up my dollar and put on a pair of skates. Then I rolled.

I had a roller skating party for my fourteenth birthday. My three friends and I huddled and giggled while examining the teenage boys who were also present. We even spoke to the boys once or twice. I remember rolling on the skates, feeling beautiful in my new peach colored sweater. I skated carefully, so as not to fall down in front of those boys or my friends. I gave one of the boys my phone number when he asked for it. He never called.

More than 20 years later I rolled skates on concrete again. I didn’t have pretty new clothes or anyone to impress. Other than being available to pick up a fallen girl, I had no obligations. So I rolled. And when the music was good I danced a little while rolling. And I attempted tricks I would not have dared do at fourteen. I am far more confident in myself and my body than I was then. I have figured out that half of looking good is not being afraid to look silly. So I did some tricks. And I fell down and scraped my knee.

That moment, the falling moment, was a bit of a reality check. I over balanced. I could not catch myself and I saw the concrete coming. Uprighting myself, and examining my knee to assess the seriousness of the damage, I realized that there are other differences between fourteen and thirty-six. Children and teens are far less likely to be seriously injured after a fall. Their bodies have elasticity and resilience which fades with the years.

I’ve been skating several times in between my fourteenth birthday and yesterday. I’ve been skating several times in the past couple of years. Our elementary school has monthly skate nights and the kids frequently beg me into going. So I went. And I wore skates. And I skated carefully, slowly building confidence. And I was pleased with myself for not falling down at all.

I stood up in the rink and flexed my injured knee. I could tell it was not broken. I knew it would be colorfully bruised. Only later did I discover that it was scraped under the pants. I had been given a reality check, and I had a choice. I could skate to the side. I could stop attempting tricks. Or I could accept the fact that falling down is part of learning. My body is no expert on skates. I have not had much practice perfecting basic skate moves. If I want to get that practice, I have to be willing to fall. Then I have to be willing to get up and try again. So I did.

I fell once more before the evening was over. I spared my knee by bruising a hand. I did not seek to fall down, but I did not let fear of falling prevent me from trying new things. I did better with each thing I attempted. When the time came to leave I was tired, but triumphant. So each time my knee twinges today, it reminds me that I got up and went on. It reminds me of the graceful flying moments which were all about the wind and the wheels and the music. The true measure of triumph is not in avoiding the fall, but in getting up to try again after it.

Ours is a video game family. The kids play games regularly and Howard goes through periods of regular play spaced by hiatuses. I used to play. I loved the Zelda games on the N64. But that was back when I had two small kids who loved to watch Mommy play because they did not have the skills to beat the games themselves. Me playing a game was a family bonding activity. It was only a few years later that the kids were taking the controller from my hands. My game play became competition rather than entertainment. I also became very busy. With my time at a premium I found it hard to allow myself to invest energy into a game.

Then came Dragon Age. Howard got it for Christmas. At first I watched Howard play. Then the older kids picked it up and began to play. I became fascinated by the story mechanics in the game. The things said in dialogue changed the story for the rest of the game and I found myself wondering what the story would have been like if the player chose differently. My curiosity grew until I picked up a controller and started my own game. I was quickly hooked. This game engages the same part of my brain which I use to write fiction. I get to help craft stories around characters, but I don’t have to worry about plot holes because the game designers have thought it all through for me.

Eventually the game will run out of plot lines for me to follow. This is a good thing, because the game is eating chunks of time. Video games are expensive. The equipment is expensive. The time is expensive. My creative brain space is expensive. But playing the game showed me something about myself. I don’t often engage in activities where the only point is my own enjoyment. I frequently do things I enjoy, but they are always attached to a larger purpose. I don’t have many hobbies. Dragon Age as a hobby is nice because I can see that it is self-limiting. I’ll spend time on it for awhile and then I will stop. I just need to make sure that I do my important things first. This will make my interesting hobby last much longer.

My brain is a noisy place. When I say that, I’m using the sound engineer definition of noise. (Or at least I’m trying to. Apologies to sound engineers out there (including my husband) if I get it wrong.) To a sound egineer, ‘noise’ means that there are things interfering with the ability to hear the sound you wish to record. For a sound engineer this can mean static introduced by faulty cables or connections. It can mean other sound sources in the room. It can even mean echos from the walls of the room. Eliminating noise is a major part of the sound engineer’s job.

So my brain was noisy, and I couldn’t sort out much of anything from the mess. Some of the noise was work which needed done. Some of it was attempting to create a schedule on a school holiday. Some of it was feeling mildly depressed. Some of it was physical noise from having all the kids home all day. Today was a friends-come-to-our-house day rather than a kids-run-off-to-friend’s-houses day. Some of it was being cooped up in the house all day.

The piece I really wanted to get a handle on was the mild depression. It was the static in the line. I kept thinking that if I could just find the causes, then I could swap out the line before it spills into any more days. Winter darkness, being cooped up in the house, and not having any quiet time are all contributors I suspect. Unfortunately rather than doing the logical thing and getting out of the house, I curled up on the couch with a book and felt frustrated when I was interrupted. Tomorrow will begin with a trip to the gym. Perhaps that will help me sort out the noises and help me hear the happy themes which surround me.