The MAC Open Gymnastics meet is here again!
I am sitting down finally at my desk, after standing and running about much of the weekend, soaking in the sights and sounds of the meet. I feel like I'm getting something I never got as a kid, filling an emptiness that will always be a bit present. It's the place where longing lives. In my case, it's a longing for being part of a tight-knit team. I did sports, certainly; but they were either more team-oriented and thus I felt too different, or more individual in which case the team bond was less pronounced then, too. Gymnastics seems the perfect combination of both: You all do the same events and thus share each other's woes, but your performance is your own.
A gymnastics meet is also pure joy to watch, a feast of sight and sound and feeling. It is rich with moments of fluid grace and awesome power, moments of letdown and relief, pain and fierce triumph and outright silliness. I love it, all of it. My eyes are addicted to the motions, my ears to the sounds of cheering and the crash of the springfloor (which also vibrates deliciously in the chest). Small wonder my first MAC Open, a year ago, was a sort of talismanic gateway into my current pursuit of the sport I never was privy to as a child. The T-shirt I splurged on was almost too sacred to touch . . . although blinding white makes this reluctance no less! Small wonder, too, that gymnastics was already finding its way into my writing as early as last MAC Open, so inspired was I by it.
Now, this year's gym-fest revives memories of that event, how new and fresh and awesome it all was, in that I had never seen it on television and thought then, I want to be a part of this. I want it to be a part of me. And best of all, I know I am not too old. Handsprings, flips and a State Games later, I have proven this to be true. It is not quite as fresh a sight today: I can see a back aerial or full-twist tuck flip and know, after numerous iterations, what I'm looking at by name. The sight of a honey-bear beside the chalk bucket is still sweet, but no longer a surprise --- and I now know what a "rip" on the palm from bars feels like. But it is all still thrilling, and yes, awesome. I've bought this year's shirt (stylin' on the sleeves, yo!) with the same wonderful rush of, This represents what brings my heart and adrenaline to life, and this year even volunteered with the door crew. Overage or not, I am proud to have gymnastics in my life, proud that my body and mind are not afraid to embrace this form of expression. MAC is losing some gymnasts this year, as always. I got to see the amazing Nate smoke the floor twice, along with plenty of other great performances by kids who make this their entire life, and I am grateful. To Nate and Banks and the twins and the others leaving for college and future gymnastics, or not . . . my best to you, in whatever. You have been an inspiration to many others.
Parkour starting up again! Got another rip on my hand, though, from the high --- make that harsh --- bar. Grips may be in the future for me....
Other news:
Edge is in full black-and-white illustrated PDF form!!! Now the search for publishers commences . . . and writing simply goes on! I heard from an author who told me she wrote several books before she cemented the deal with an agent and "got in paper", so I am prepared to keep up the productive engine until, and after, its output gets hooked to a receiving unit. As in: Lots of juice coming from this source, hellooooo? And enviro-friendly too! (please print on recycled paper.)
Illustrations continue, as always. Just did a lovely one of the two main characters sharing a moment of tenderness and pain. The boy's uncle enfolds him with a guardian's comforting warmth and love --- as well as the demanding presence of destiny and the inevitability of "no going back": The man is, after all, the ruling figure of their entire tradition of magick.
Other ideas include a Sarkazen romance, which would simply be fun to write. What, after all, is such an experience like from the other side --- that is, dating a Sarkazen boy? But I intend to pursue the series as per Isaac's viewpoint, and romance will be included anyway. It's one thing to be breathlessly in love with a really hot sorcerer-boy. But through Isaac's eyes, we not only have access to a wild new world full of whimsy and magic, but we get the lovey-dovey experience of the girls he dates, as well: Isaac, after all, is a Phrenoskoper. As for the word that means "someone who can taste life", well. I have no idea. The beauty of it is, from this perspective, we see why Isaac does what he does, instead of just panting girly angst. This boy knows what he is, and what he wants, and what he needs. He also decides to "leave any territory better than he found it" . . . in this case, the territory of feminine heart, mind and soul. Isaac, as an older teen, is a rare bird: A good-bad boy, a user who gives a damn. Small wonder he's irresistible.
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