So it’s time to turn my mind to other things.
Baseball is a wonderful out from the world. Stats and Players and trades and scouting reports, entire newspaper sections devoted to inside details and comments and wonderings. Girls can’t play in MLB, so I want to be an announcer when I grow up.
Even on an off-day, I can go to Tumblr and save pictures, re-blog comments, post random .gifs of Brian Wilson.
I overload my Facebook page with Giants stuff. All the time. Half of me bleeds Carolina Blue, the other half, the Orange and Black.
It’s an escape. Not that I haven’t been a fan for years. I stopped watching after the strike, the year of no World Series. I was devastated because the 87+ Giants were my heroes. I even loved the D-Bags, just because Matt Williams went there. Clark, Thompson, Willie Mays, McCovey, Ruschel, Dravecky, Jose Uribe, they were all mine.
A friend asked me to give them another try, and so I did. It took one game. One time watching my Giants play. New team. New era. No steroids. Just Tim and Brian and Sergio, the Panda, Molina, Edgar Renteria, before the Posey era began, even. They brought up #34, Matt Downs, and then sent him back down. I was devastated. Now Darren Ford wears #34. I want Mike Krukow to be my dad.
But I have a life other than this. Or at least, I should. I did. I make barely any money, and that may be cut off this coming month. I’m scared. I have a lot of debt, thanks to school and being sick. Baseball gives me three-four hours a day, and all the anticipation before, to jump out of the worry.
I like to dance around to awesome songs, and pretend I’m doing karaoke with the Giants. Cody is the one I imagined would jump up on stage with me, and then hey. All Star Game this year – video of him singing Sweet Caroline and California Love.
I’m eerie about some things. I don’t like hanging out unless I feel totally secure. I have a new apartment filled with nothing but dirty clothes, a TV, and a constantly collapsing air mattress. I like to watch movies at night. I am a legal pot smoker, I don’t really drink very much anymore, I’m me.
It’s just sometimes very difficult to find the usefulness in that.
I play guitar, but not well enough. I sing, but everyone else sings better. I draw, but then I see these magnificent ink drawn, scanned, photoshopped and coloured things that other people produce. (Word count = 420. Too bad I feel icky today), my best friend gets home from work at 6. My other best friend is two hours ahead of me. I love IKEA.