Ra! Ra! Ra!

I was a cheerleader. Okay it was kindergarten, but I was still a cheerleader. My sister was the coach. Everyone thought she was super cool. This bought me a few cool points, I suppose. It all went terribly wrong one day at practice. My sister tooted. How mortifying for her right? Wrong. She totally blamed it on me! I about died. Of course everyone believed it was me. I am pretty sure that is where my cheer leading career died.

In junior high I thought maybe it would be cool if I was a cheerleader, so I would turn the lights off in my bedroom and dance around to the Mortal Kombat song. I kept the lights off so if anyone walked in they wouldn't see. That would be a huge problem for try outs. If I could only have talked the school into letting me try out in the dark. I am so good at in when no one is watching and when it is dark.  

I  would think of songs I would run out to if I was on a team and involved in the pep rally.   I remember the volleyball team came out to a Destiny's Child song.   I would always think, "What would I make my grand entrance to?"   The answer, more than likely, would have been something very lame.  "MMMBop" would have gotten me booed so hard. Then again so would my cheering.  Perhaps I could have come out to the California Raisins.   Who doesn't get happy when they hear their version of "You Can't Hurry Love"?  

Fear can hold us back.  Other times it can save us.  My fear of cheering in the light was a huge life saver for me.  

What's Your Story?

Week after week, sometimes day after day, I share my stories.  I share my pictures, my thoughts, and my travels with people through the computer.  I share my past.  I have always been that person that you probably know a lot (maybe even too much) about. I am a talker.  My co-workers have always become my friends.

Part of this blog has been to tell stories from my childhood.  A lot of this blog came through self exploration, trying to figure out "who I am."  Finding out "who you are" requires looking in to "who you have been."   For those of you that know me well, I hope this blog has helped you know me a little better.  For those that don't know me well, I hope you have an idea of who I am.  For those that thought they knew me, maybe you did. Maybe you didn't.  I do know that through this blog and retelling the past, as I saw it, has been a great way to start to figure out who I am. Who I am is actually turning into who I always thought I was, instead of who I thought I should be.  This is a good feeling.

I think putting thoughts into words is a great way to find yourself.  I am just feeling the urge to ask you...what is your story?   Maybe you would like to tell me more about you.  Maybe you don't.  If you do, I am all ears. Leave me a comment.  Email me. Facebook me.   I would love to hear your story.

My Olympic Dream

Once every four years, I get the desire to be athletic.  I get pumped up about fitness. Not pumped up enough to actually join a gym or do anything fitness related, just pumped up enough to fantasize about what it would be like to be an athlete.  The Olympics always starts out the same way for me. I pretend that I couldn't care less.  Then a few days in I get the itch.  I finally give in and watch a little bit only to find myself glued to the TV for the remainder of the events.  The problem this year is I have no television.  I have started sneaking off to the TV room in our apartment at night after my son is asleep.  My husband stays in and I go watch and send him random texts about how awesome someone is in a certain sport.  He will then ask me, "what race was it?" I don't know the answer.  I say "swimming." He continues to ask.  All I know is that they are swimming. Lets not get into a bunch of details.

This year, just like 2008, I have a mad crush on Michael Phelp's abdomen.  I am not the person that goes googly for guys. (Disclaimer: as a child I had JTT and Hanson posters. There, I said it.  As an adult, I do not get all pumped up over the new Brad Pitt movie or anything). The most uncomfortable and dreadful situation I could imagine is being the person in a folding chair with a male stripper dancing in front of me, while I begrudgingly put a hard earned one dollar bill in his speedo. I had to ask someone what "Magic Mike" and "Fifty Shades of Grey" were.  Michael Phelp's torso is my version of all of that.  I am pretty glad tomorrow is his last race. I am starting to feel a touch of guilt.

Great abs are not the only thing on my mind while watching the games. I also start to wonder if I could be an Olympian.  I still think that gymnastics, although I have never once done a somersault, would be my pick.  It seems like I could ace the floor routine.  My second choice would be swimming. I do not actually know how to swim. I like my feet on the bottom of the pool.   Track and field is also very intriguing.  I would say those gals have the best look to them, in my opinion.  It is so hard to pick really.

Winter games...hands down...figure skating.  That would be my sport for sure. I am pretty sure I would prefer singles.  It all goes back to that uncomfortable with a guy in front of me in spandex kind of thing.  I am also not real good at group sports. If my partner fell, I would kind of want to stab him with my toe pick.

I will admit that it is not completely out of the realm of possibilities for me to do a little pretend floor routine, without any flips, while no one is looking.