the meaning of life and baseball
today i woke up early and went to see andrew play baseball.
one travelling game in fresh meadows and one regular game at
icyp. yeah im due to get my period soon but there is always
something about sunday morning/afternoon little league.
to the kids, its a time to play. play a game they love. they
just want to get up to bat. they just want to get out on the
field. they just want to be together. they just want to make
that catch, hit that ball and feel good about themselves,
out there in the sun. learn something about life.
thats their meaning in life. a few hours of time out of
their day. moving their bodies. playing this GAME, this GAME
with their bodies, one where you need all your mind. where
you are involved in every minute, especially when you are
young. its a passion. a love. thats the meaning of life for
these ten year old boys,
then there are the parents. with jobs they DONT love, lives
they DONT love and they take on their kids baseball to
define life too. it becomes some kind of twisted passion
for the. Gossip, conspiracies, fights. neverending.
people need to have some kind of meaning and they will do
anything, or nothing, whatever it is. but it doesnt matter.
these parents are creating something that isnt there. just
to do something, just to feel something.
i was just watching a beautiful mind. which always gets to
me. and nash, and many schizophrenics i think, just very
much need a reason that they are here. something to be sure
of. they need to think they have meaning.
should he have been content with what he had? the wife, the
kid, the professorship, the math research? it wasnt enough
for him he wanted to be a part of national security.
there is this kid on the team, on andrews team who is always
smiling, they call him pumpkincheeks. he strikes out, he
smiles, he gets yelled at, he smiles, smiling all the time,
everywhere looking like his face is made for smiling.
i kept thinking i want to be like you. i want to strike out
and walk back smiling.
i want to be happy go lucky. i want to take things in
stride. i just want to play, play and hit the ball and
strike out and catch balls and miss balls and just play and
have a goood time and not get upset and not . i dont know
everyone gets into slumps tho dont they. i dont know why i
am running with this baseball metaphor.
i dont know if i want to hear him out. do i? do i even want
to know the truth? how ironic is that. could i even take it?
i honestly dont know if i can. i cant wrap my head around
the fact that while he was fucking me he was fucking her.
and lying about it. i cant i just cant .
i just told him that its not so much about him finding
someone else, thats not whats hurtful. its not knowing if
what i thought was real between us was. cause how could it
be. they are too intermingled. i wasnt real enough to commit
to. no one has ever been able to commit to me. i am not that
type of girl apparently. they can all commit to someone
else, just not me. maybe thats what hurts. that i thought
what we had was real, i did. i believed he loved me. i was
certainly in love with him. but in reality, he was only
entertained by me for a short time before he found someone
more suitable. all the while telling me how highly he thinks
i dont think i can separate the two. me and her.
the yankees just got another homerun. giambi tied it with
his three run homerun. matsui got another, then jorgie. the
first two were exilerating, the third, jorgies, made me
stand up and yelp something that the tv. im by myself and i
forgot about every damn thing in the world for just a few