Suddenly I feel the distinct need to blog, and while I am certain that few people will actually take an interest in following, I still find a desire to share the distinct occurances and lessons of my day to day life.
At twenty four years old, the general population would consider me an adult, on my way to a successful career and experienced enough to manage my life, to look past little setbacks. Instead I find myself the complete opposite...I am a ten year old at heart, a random perfectionist, and sometimes the blonde roots show. This blog is simply the world as I see it. Silly situations and thoughts magneticize themselves toward me and I've decided it is time to share. So, I present Through the Looking Glass, aka ridiculous "Tracie's roots are showing" moments.
What motivated me to take initiative in this writing? Climbing at Miramont last night. I have gained confidence in God over the last couple of years which is beneficial in allowing me to have a certain freedom. For some inexplicable reason gyms are more frightening and intimidating than jumping off a 100 foot cliff, they absolutely terrify me and the freedom I have found in God seems to get left at the door into any gym. When I walk into a gym I feel like I am a kid off the street, muddy clothes, messy hair, with an old tattered book walking into a conference room of CEOs in their nice fancy suits...and that is pretty out of place. Miramont is a gym, I wanted to climb. My desire for adventure won. I followed my friend in, instep, trusting that if the CEOs don't yell at her, I might be okay. I put on the bravest face I could manage and attempted to follow my friend's (We'll call her Basil) instruction on how to Boulder. I could only laugh at myself as I pitifully triend again and again to gain some sort of achievement. Eventually, many laughs and falls later I succeeded...three times! I started to relax and enjoy myself. As I write this, my abs, arms, back, legs, and armpits are sore. Sad. But it is not the climbing that is embarrasing. Its the water fountain. I was thirsty. I put on my brave face, left Basil's side and ventured on my own through the gym. Low and behold I had to ask directions. I finally wove my way through the weight lifters, squatters, and bicyclists to the fountain. I pushed the front button. Nothing came out. I kept pushing it, in hopes that something might change. I saw a faucet, but no cups. I searched everywhere for a cup. As I stared blankly at the fountain, trying to determine how I was going to hydrate myself, a cute guy nonetheless walked over and pushed a button on the side. OF COURSE! Who woulda thought. I tried to laugh off my stupidity and fight the blood rushing to my cheeks, but failed miserably. Great, I have a Bachelor of Science, but can't work a fountain.
I guess I'll know for next time. That is all for now...a whole story on the water fountain and my fear of gyms.
Next time...Ms. P meets Snowy slope.
