Echo

Officially, the freak out began on Tuesday. I’m terrified of this trip. Terrified. It will be uncharted territory. High risk and high reward for adventure, drama, wisdom, creativity. But still, a terrifiying unknown.

I feel I have no choice but to move forward.

I think this is the most logical next step for where I’m trying to get.

I believe without exploration, there can be no discovery.

I am afraid.

Beat two guys at 21 two times in a row today. The last game I won with 5 consecutive shots on a sprained ankle (pull up jumper, 3 free throws, 3 pointer). It even surprised me because again, I’m never this good unless I’m alone or playing against someone with no one else watching. Something’s pretty jacked with my right foot so I might be done for a while. But I was feeling really intense today, really brooding in a way that I couldn’t even acknowledge the existence of a world outside of this game. And maybe that’s what gave me the safety to be good. I blocked a couple of shots, too, which is secretly my greatest high in the game, the thing that gives me the biggest rush. It’s getting in tune with someone so deeply that his moves are your moves, but when he gets to the place of attack, you’re already there waiting for him. And yeah, I’m a bully for loving it, but you still get to be on top.

The day at the gym did start kind of uniquely. When I was warming up, I discovered the sudden return of my left. My wrist was somewhat rusty, but the motion suddenly seemed familiar again, manageable. It had been useless for so long, even though I had solid left hand post moves in high school. I’d found it completely unresponsive the last few years, like I was trying to communicate with a hand living on a foreign planet which I had no common language with. And suddenly today, it came back. And then I went on to beat those guys at 21 playing exponentially beyond my usual focus. I think they might be connected.

I had a dream a couple of weeks ago. In the dream I was laying in bed on a Sunday afternoon, and I had the idea that if I practiced doing things with my left hand, if I learned how to write with it, play basketball with it and feel adept with it, it would open up previously dormant parts of my brain that would allow me greater capabilities of understanding. In my dream I was drifting off to sleep, but I was excited to try it when I woke up.

Maybe today was a reminder that it’s time to explore this to see if it will open up the other half of my mind.

It’s been driving me crazy how Suri Holmes-Cruise, outside of looking a bit like a test-tube alien child, reminds me of someone but I just can’t put my finger on it. It’s been driving me crazy for a while now.

I was getting a haircut today, and since hair salons are where the best rumors run free, I asked my WeHo ear-to-the-ground pop-shaman what the deal was with Suri.

He said, “The latest rumor is that Tom’s cousin donated sperm because Lord Knows, Tom doesn’t have it in him to make a baby.”

And then I had one of those Aha! moments. I knew who she looked like! I know Tom probably has many cousins, but I know of one in particular. Last year I had been marathoning Lost and had looked up the guy who plays creepy Ethan, only to find that he was Tom Cruise’s cousin. And he happens to look like Suri, or more appropriately, Suri happens to look exactly like him.

Look at the eyes. They both have a strange downward slant and hooded lids:

Who knows. Maybe she got it from Tom’s side of the family and he’s really the father. Stranger things have happened. But while I’d been more inclined to think she was a genetic clone of Katie or spliced with DNA from the hair off a brush of L. Ron Hubbard, I guess this cousin theory is more plausible.

I hope Katie’s 5 year/$8 million contract + perks is worth it.

Nice job, Karl Malone.

Yesterday I was shooting baskets on the same hoop as an old guy sporting crazy hair, like a Middle-Eastern Albert Einstein. He was kind of annoying me because he was the type who can’t really play, but throws the basket at the hoop so hard it comes slamming off the backboard and will bean you in the back of the head if you don’t keep an eye on it, but I lived with it. This white guy who was about 6’7″ and his slim girlfriend came in and asked the guy if he wanted to play 2-on-2. The guy said no, he wasn’t very good, but the guy said he wasn’t good either and the girl doesn’t play at all. We all shot around and the guy was kind of patronizing to her which was annoying considering she was actually pretty athletic and decent though clearly not someone who’s had a history of playing. So I said, let’s play 2’s. I guarded him rather than her, and he said that she didn’t know the rules so I said we wouldn’t worry about it.

During the game, she played hard and made quite a few shots. We weren’t really guarding her, just standing straight up when she shot, but he kept yelling, “Don’t play defense against her.” It really made me want to stick him with an elbow in the gut, which was right about where my elbows were, the guy was so tall. It was just really rude because it was condescending and devaluing her abilities.

It’s like this guy thinks that he thinks she’s great, I mean, obviously since he’s dating her, but he doesn’t really see her because he’s kind of seeing her through a projection of himself or his idea of her/women. Which is a shame to not really see what makes a person truly unique and beautiful, especially the person you are with. That truth is really the pearl within the oyster. I’m not saying she’s a great person as I don’t know her, but I could just tell how limited his scope was and that was a shame.

I didn’t really do much in the game, just passed it to my teammate, Einstein, and let him bounce the ball off the backboard while congratulating everyone who did anything good. I hit a few shots but I wasn’t too into it. After the game, I was leaving to do cardio and stopped to shake hands with Einstein. He doesn’t let go of my hand and tells me, “I can tell you’re a good person.” I say thank you and he doesn’t let go, still shaking my hand. “I can tell you’re a good person, that your parents raised you right and everything about you is good. Trust me, I’m 60 years old and I’m wise because I’m old so I can tell. You are truly a good person.”

I cover his hand with my other one and hold his in both of mine, warmly, and say, “Thank you. You’re very kind.” And I look him the eyes and connect. He smiles, happy, and lets go of my hand. I pat him on the shoulder, smile and leave.

I realized that I don’t really look that many people in the eye. I mean, I look at them, often in fleeting glances if they’re aware of me, and I’m always perceiving them, but only when I want to do I look in a straightforward way in which they know without a doubt that they have all of my attention and I’m really openly connected. Earlier that day, I’d had a long chat with my dentist. I’ve been going to him for 5 years now, but for some reason that day, we stopped and had a 45 minute discussion about life and people. He said that when people talk, it’s often a projection of themselves, what they want or what they fear. It was funny that he should have mentioned that because earlier in the conversation when we were talking about my ex-boss, I could tell from what he was saying, his feelings and insecurities about dating.

Maybe that moment on the court was just an old man wanting to tell a passing stranger an observation. Or maybe people just want another person to look at them and truly see them as good people so they can feel validated. Or maybe what it was really about was that this guy just wanted someone to see him and acknowledge him.

I think that’s important to every person, whether we consciously acknowledge it or not. No one wants to feel insignificant. Insignificance is the first warning sign that a person might be disappearing and deep down, that is one of the most human fears.