Who Needs Sports?

I speak for my people, meaning the uncoordinated, non-depth-perceptive people, when I say that there are oppurtunities to sports. After being hit in the face too many times with various sports equipment I realized there must be another way to incorporate fitness activities into my life. And thus I discovered the magic of band.

I was not a fat girl before band. Nor was I skinny. I was a little on the pudge side of things, but not unhappy with my appearance. Nearly two years and at least 15 pounds lighter I have a message. Bari sax saved my waistline. Sure, you might be asking how is that possible, but come on. The thing weighs 15 pounds outside the case, nearly 45 in the case, and I tote it all over the city, and march around with it for hours on end.

Normal people, or even people who do sports regularly, would not be able to handle what I do at band for even an hour. In layman's terms, I'm a beast. You should see my band injuries and my band muscles. My right bicep is envied by many a sports-failing young person.

Not to sound self-centered, but I love my sax, and I love what it's done for me. You people with little instruments or people who aren't in band at all have no idea. I'd like to see you do my job. As I've said before, it's INTENSE!!

Fiction part TWO!

So the girl went on, and she thought the same sad, depressing little thoughts and pitied herself greatly. But it was one day that she almost snapped. All day things had gone exactly as routine, and at the very end, when she was the only one left cleaning up, she was rather angry. "Why do I even bother? What's the point?" All in all, she was very much displeased and was almost ready to just go off and explode. Or do something else irrational. But then he came up behind her, crouched down just a bit.
"Hey, I'm leaving, see you tomorrow," and he kissed the top of her head oh so gently (although still quickly) and she was content. She quickly got herself together enough to say quietly "oh, bye," but as soon as he walked away she sighed in happiness. So what if she didn't have the same boyfriend as the ones on tv that are all over them every second of the day? Just for those tiny little moments that made her feel like the world was just right, she would stay with him forever, living for the small things.

C'est la vie.

Fiction!! (ish)

She looks at him across the huge room, people surrounding both of them. She watched him a lot, actually, although not once did she ever catch him looking back. Not that she minded, he was awfully busy as she knew. She knew he was an important guy there. As she blew her too-long bangs out of her face, she looked back down to her music. Not that she needed to check it. She knew it so well she sang it in the shower, for god's sakes.
He was deep in conversation with his friend, the girl next to him. Not that she was jealous. Not at all, she wasn't the kind of girl who would get upset with her boyfriend for being around other girls. Not in the least. She even got annoyed by her friends who were like that. She watched as he playfully tapped her arm. She would've paid money for that to be her.
But she went back to her music, delving deeper and deeper into making the loudest, best sound possible until she didn't even think about him at all. About an hour later they met together in the hall, chaos reining all around. People were walking back and forth, laughing, talking. They also were talking. She made good conversation, but when she stared into his eyes listening to what he had to say, all she could think was that she just wanted to put her arms around him, lay her head on his shoulder and listen to him breathe. But that never happens. They come back, week after week, repeating the same cycle. She watches, listens, hopes, but her hope must stand until the next time. "Maybe this time he'll pick up on my hints. Maybe."
Even when it was just them. No one around for miles, perhaps on a bridge or walking down a deserted street. She loved hearing him talk and so she talked back, but the whole time she watched his moving lips thinking "I just want to kiss them for ever and ever. Or at least until we have to go home," and she could have gone for it. She could have taken his hand, pulled him really close, shut her eyes and just let it happen. He would have gotten it then. But she never did. Not once.

This is what she thought as she sat beside him, just their ankles touching beneath the table. This is what she thought as she hugged him from behind. As she rested on his back during a one-time only piggy-back ride. As she looked at him from across the room. Perhaps one day she would get up the nerve to do what she desired to do, but for now she would be fine with talking. Just talking.