Sometimes it feels like the world thinks too much...
Shreddaily wrote:
Started with sparse low lines, built intensity with rythmic variety, went to 16th note lines in high register, than went to octives, than block chords for my last chorus... If you understood that last sentance than you should be playing music and not checking the internet.
david wrote:Footbag is at least half mental after all.
You hit the nail on the head, my friend.
One of the traits I hugely respect you for is that you simply don't bullshit. Ever.
Few people have the ability to take a step back from their lives and analyze things critically. It's a very admirable quality to have. There are so many out there that mask and hide their true identities. Those that are content with their narrow mindsets and believe everything they see. People that mould themselves to fit in with others and their surroundings.
We survived, Dave.
My entire life has felt as though I have been 'peering in through a window', so to speak. Watching people, analyzing their behaviours, seeing what makes them tick. However, it was always my choice to stand outside. Knowing that blending in means inevitable conformity. Being equal to everyone else -- probably my biggest fear. I had to be different, but in a positive way. Footbag saved me. You could say it was my escape. Always has been, always will be.
The more you immerse yourself in the community (even modified) the more your hopes and goals will be influenced by others, good or bad.
Stay true to youself and stay focused. If you are playing to seek acceptance or props from others, you will more likely burn yourself out and question all your hard work.
So if you don't know, I live in Bethlehem, PA, in like a normal house people live in. Well recently, theres been an invasion by some unwelcomed guests, and I just felt like writing this down because it's more important then any footbag trick... ever.
So the other day I'm sitting on the comp, looking good as always, and I look down and see this little black dot. And I'm like, "oh, an ant!". Well, many of you loyal readers do not know this but I hate ants. HATE. Hate isn't even strong enough to discribe my feelings for these little 6 (?) legged buggers that chomp chomp chomp on the crumbs of my girl scout cookies. I don't care how ants came about, but whoever created them should be held responsible.
So anyway, I see this little black shit on the floor, and I'm like "oh whatever man, no prob". But then I see this little dudes brought about like, 50 of his buddies with him to join CrumbFest 2006. Needless to say, my natural ant killing instincts took over. I dropped to all fours, and searched the area. 50 led to about 100, scattered between the desk and the garbage can nearby. A full fledged attack.
Now you might be thinking "shit bro, you are one grimmy ant attracting biotch", but I'm really not. Sure I enjoy the light beverage and snack food by the computer, but I thought I was clean in my midnight snackage. So although I would still like to think of myself as a clean guy, maybe this encounter shows what a scuz I am.
Scuz or not, I busted out my vacuum and sucked these buggers up like the scum they are. But then I realized that I had just temporarily moved CrumbFest 2006 from the floor to my vaccuum, and that wouldn't do. So I took out the bag, and reloaded. I proceeded to spray the area to rid it of any stragglers. A job well done. OR SO I THOUGHT!
If you ever, ever, underestimate the power of ants, why, you are a fool. I did not know this however, and stupidly thought the barrage of the ant kingdom was over. OR SO I THOUGHT! The next day while cleaning apparel I noticed a little black beast on the floor next to the door that leads to the patio. OH! WHAT IS THIS?! I dropped on all fours instinctivley, my brown green eyes flashing in terror. I gaped in horror as I saw not 1, but dozens of little black ants crawling about the floor. "A FAMILY AFFAIR!" I cried remembering the incident from yesterday.
Deteremined to end this family tree I once again called upon my Hoover and got down to business. I disposed of the little crawlers, and finished it off with some spray. Feeling quite accomplished, I got myself a snack, but ate in the kitchen, becuase the last thing I would do would be to drop more crumbs for these little bastards.
Two succesful invasions stopped, I proceeded to enjoy my ant free days. I would wake up, smell the clean air, scan the floor, and scoff at the insects I had so cleverly taken over. "MAN OR BEAST?!" I would cry, staring into the mirror. I was truly a warrior.
I was riding high for a while there. I played a lot of kicky sack, busted "phat" as the kids say, and chilled with my neighborhood gangstars. Life was good, the ants were gone. I even attended a hack tournament in rochester. You must understand however, that I was hesistant to go, becuase the thing i hate (ants) happens to live in GRASS (the name of the tournament). Putting my fears aside, I did go and had a great time, and not a single black ant was to be seen. Ah, perfection.
But this utopia could not last. This morning as mother and I proceeded on our way to school (no i dont get dropped off you dork, she teaches 3rd grade), I saw them. Oh did I see them. My hawk eye was not dulled during the ant's brief vacation. Rather, I had trained myself for a moment such as this. "GET DOWN!" I yelled, throwing my mother to the floor. "THIS IS NO TIME TO BE BRAVE DAMN IT."
I twirled in a fury (barraging pdx. mirage), my heart racing. My eyes were wild with the fire of the kill. I looked at the polished hard wood before me, the black ants strewn across like some kind of abstarct artwork of death. "I WILL STAND NO MORE FOR THIS!" I yelled, my heart racing. "THE RIDEX!!!" I thought, picturing the white bottle with a picture of an ant on it, all legs in the air gasping for life.
I jumped to the closet, grabbing the bottle. I wasted no time in throwing it to my mom who pushed on the trigger but then stopped. "David, what about the ozone? This is an aerosol can!"
"THIS IS NO TIME TO BE ENVIORNMENTLY FRIENDLY DAMN IT? WHAT ARE YOU? A HACKY PLAYING HIPPY?!" I was digusted, appalled. My own mother, delaying to unleash the spray on the hell spawn below. "I NEVER LOVED YOU!" I yelled, pressing on the can's trigger. The white spray fell from the bottle. I snapped my wrist back and forth, praying for full coverage of the ant fleet I so hoped to destroy.
Suddently I felt something in my eye. "What is this?" I gasped. A tear fell from my eye, mixing with the spray that was still being unleashed. "What is this I feel? So many emotions. Remorse for the ant creatures?" I stared helplessly at my hand, firmly pressed on the trigger. I watched as the unsuspecting ants shriveled in dismay, their bodies being overtaken by the foam. The thing I hated being overtaken by my hand.
"SNAP OUT OF IT!" I told myself. "THINK OF ALL THEY'VE DONE TO YOU! THINK ABOUT THE LITTLE KIDS WHO CRY WHENEVER THEY SEE AN ANT BECAUSE OF ALL THE ANTS HAVE DONE!" My eyes lit up, the fire rekindled.
"IF YOU EVER COME ON MY FLOOR AGAIN I WILL UNLEASH THE GATES OF HELL UPON THEE! NEVER! NEVER! NEVER!" I cried, throwing down the bottle, the ants defeated.
My body was soaked in sweat. My eyes were moist. But the ants were gone. Or so I thought.
I came home from school today (yes, I managed to make it through the day, i know, i know, strong soul i have) to find ants upstairs. They were making a pilgramage from the deck door to the kitchen. A black line of hatred, slicing across the dining room. I didn't have any energy left to fight an endless battle. I just watched as they scoured the floor for crumbs. You can only hate so much you know? Sometimes you just have to give in.
An exterminator comes friday. I may have given up, but there are others who hate you for a living. Watch your back ants, your days are numbered.
hahhaha, story of the year dave! You should have just played footbag on them and amazed them by your skizzillz. They would have probably died in amazement.
Will Digges wrote:hahhaha, story of the year dave! You should have just played footbag on them and amazed them by your skizzillz. They would have probably died in amazement.
haha, I'm sure they'd be dying of amazement if you played footbag *on* them
I was attacked by the young age of... 6 or so when I was in Florida by ants. I will never forget it, it's one of the few things I remember when I visited Disney World... Hit me up sometime, we can share our hatred for those lil 6 legged bitches. Alright, someone is chanting sake bomb, gotta run brotha, peace !
Today was a pretty stressful day. But the ending really made the day awesome and really rejuvenated my outlook on a lot of things.
I woke up today, sat through school, and then came home and did 3 hours of testing for penn state to see where I place for next year's classes. Such a bummer. So then I went to my college class to help with a project which about 3 adults dumped on me. Then I went to school, gave back my uniform, went to the store and bought my dad a card for his birthday, came home. My mom and dad were already out to eat so i ran back to the pizza place and ate with them. I came home feeling quite famished. But I called mike up and asked him to shred.
I guess half of my being bummed was that on the way home from school I looked at ashley's house and just remembered busting on her patio hour after hour every summer night. Really made me sad that all that is in the past. It really blows that she's not right across the street like before.
Either way, me and Mike played for like an hour and a half. I played in new shoes, and I was doing really well. Mike was KILLING it. So good, so consistant, lots of good tiltless lines. We played till we couldnt see the bag anymore. It really felt like a session from the old days. And it really just made me understand why I love footbag. I love seeing the bag float and just spinning around it and just passing with someone. I like doing flying clippers. I like when my feet whip around it and blur. I like fighting with gravity. I'm not sure why this session out of all the ones I've had recently made me feel so good, but it really did. I just let out all my stress.
Ants infested my house two months ago. They only stayed in my bed. killing 100-200 ants a night in your bed sucks. The only thing I could think to do was kill them by hand b/c there's no way i'm spraying raid in my bed. I ended up spraying the bed anyway, and the ants left (to my roomates bed ). I guess that all i'm trying to point out is that sometimes the bad leads to good.
It's funny how my last entry was so posotive and excited on freestyle. This one will be on a lower note. At least I'm consistant in my up and down mood swings.
I played last night with mike for an hour, and then an hour by myself. I pretty much sucked. My knee hurt a lot. I dropped on a lot of stuff. Just pretty lackluster. I think it took 20 tries to hit bedwetter bsos. That's pretty bad.
It's an extra bummer that I have 4 "events" comming up soon. Spike and shred, spring fest, and 2 smaller jams. I really wanted to play well. Don't feel like that will really come through.
I guess my lack of skill can be atributed to my lackluster mental state. Ive just felt really stressed and stuff. The whole high school comming to an end thing is just like, a lot of stuff in a little amount of time. And it feels like I'm not doing what normal kids would. I'm not going to the prom, even though 3 girls asked me. I just knew I wouldnt enjoy myself with them. I'm not looking forward to college. I'm not skipping school tommorow (senior skip day). I don't know.
A couple kids said I should go for class speaker. You know, the whole speech at graduation thing. I think I'd just have a really like, negative anti-bethlehem thing. I dont think Id be a good class speaker becuase my high school experience isnt a football game date cheerleader popular fest like it should be. I dont think I'll go out for it.
Another thing that sucks is that I was going to fly to california and suprise emily at her tournament. But my parents said no. So that sucks. I was really looking forward to that.
Yo david. Are you happy with your life. Because your life is your life. So live it the way you like. If you are not happy with it, change it. It is as easy as that.
Anthony Hagen
Buy O'wheel Bags, he is the man, trust me.
"It is none of my business what other people think.
Haven't blogged in a bit. Stuff on my mind, thought I'd write it down.
Last friday, saturday, and sunday I played a combined 10 hours. Pretty good eh? Then I didn't touch a bag for monday, tuesday, wednesday. Played like an hour thursday pretty well. Played yesterday maybe the best I've played in a long long time.
So I think, why did I play so well yesterday? After 3 days off and a light session, you think I would be quite rocky. But this wasnt the case at all. I felt sharp, accurate. It makes me wonder if maybe I play too much. Could it be? Should I play hard for the three, take off 3, and then repeat that? It reminds me of a thing Nick Laroche used to talk about. He said he would play one day, take off the next, repeat. He said muscle memory cant take in stuff when you just pound at it day after day. I'm not sure if thats true, false, or brillant.
I would like to learn alot about muscle memory. It seems like in our sport there are so many movements. Like in bicycling or something, your basically doing the same thing over and over. I'd like to learn about the maximum way to maximize your potential. But maybe everyone is different, and learning something about people in general really wouldn't do much for me. Meh.
So yesterday I played with pat, cheebs, and justin. Cheebs used to be amazing, and now it just alright, but he says hes going to get back into it. I really wish he would. He hit one string that would make anyone on this forum go "say what?". Tons of zooms, food randomly, lots of fives, floaty ps whirls. Good shit. I hope when he has time in the summer he cracks down and schools. But even if he doesnt, i still like playing with him.
I cut my hair today. It was the longest its ever been, and now its the shortest it's ever been. Better for shred, better for my face, but there was something awesome about all this shit floating with you when you played. I really felt like Honza or something. But when you have so much hair you get so sweaty and then your face is like, wacko. So whatever.
I want to get a black hat with the DC shoe logo on it. Like, that would be sick. Cuz it's my initials.
I have so many frikken tournaments comming up. Next saturday mendham, next sunday highland, weekend after that spike and shred, then east coasts later. Frikken ridiculous. I dont even know if Ill play next saturday, cuz then I'll just be sore on sunday. Maybe I'll film? An east coast footbag video? *gasp*
Maybe when I get software from mike I'll post some strings in here.