BULJEMS

Ever have a day or a year or a decade in which every move you make, every thought you have seems like something straight out of the JUMBLES section on the comics page?

Hmm. Me neither.

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Where to begin? For starters, I actually did attempt to log-on last night and post a little something or other, but Blogger was being a beast and would not let me. Then I started to type a few words onto an e-mail to myself, telling myself that I could post it later, but then I got sidetracked doing something else. Which was probably actually nothing, if I were to be perfectly honest about it.

My thoughts seem not to want to focus on anything these days, really. Except, perhaps, memories and mighta-beens, maybe. I dunno.

I am going to play tennis tomorrow in a sorta big-deal event. I am not nervous, however, because my team is not necessarily expected to win the whole thing or anything. We are simply going there to play and compete and, hopefully, have a great time as we get to know each other a little better.

And then, last night, outta the blue, I started thinking about my ... friend? ... NiNi who died a few years back. Killed herself, actually, and I know I have written about her before, maybe in this journal, maybe in my other one, who keeps track of such things? (I do not.) Anyway, what kept me thinking of NiNi was that it was she who got me back to playing tennis, way back in the late-1980s, after I had been away from the game for a few years.

See, I liked her. I really liked her, like one of those love-at-first-sight-kinda things, although it was actually love-at-before-first-sight because I had heard all these little bits and pieces about her, and how she was basically a really fucked-up girl but very likable, yeah, everybody loved NiNi. And when I finally saw her for the very first time: Yeah, I was in love. Seriously.

Of course, I tried to let her know without really letting her know that I liked her ... which meant she probably knew all along ... but it was OK, maybe because all I really needed was to be needed, somehow, and not necessarily loved ... and she was, in her own way, quite needy sometimes. At least in terms of having my undivided attention, sometimes.

And sometimes, we played tennis, and that is what got me back into the game.

She was a person for whom I had some highly intense feelings, and I was content to revel/wallow in the ecstasy and the agony of it all for a while ... until I just could not do it any longer.

I had to get over her. And I did.

So, yeah, I know it CAN be done.

(But I also know that it is not easy.)

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So far, I am off to my worst start (in a history of bad starts) in the NCAA tourney. I am actually starting to feel rather glad that I probably will not be able to sit around and watch basketball for the better part of the weekend. Dammit.

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