Wet and Cold
Mumble, mumble, mumble. Nothing coherent. But I had better write, or I wouldn’t. I have been frozen. Being frozen hijacked my grand topics. I like the cold. I prefer the cold to hot. But Cold is cold. I am cold. Cold because I am underdressed. One can’t be too cold when there are all sorts of clothing and warming equipment available. So while I sit here being cold out of my mind, it is rather a kind of choice. Cold in the warm sun is nice. Cold in the dark grey day with rain is just cold. Quite miserable.
Once I asked a disable kid who couldn’t speak but who could somewhat respond to my questions with expressions of her face. I asked her are you cold? She looked at me blankly. I wondered why. Then I had the most peculiar thought that she didn’t know what ‘cold’ was. Because she lived in an institution, they wrapped her up pretty snugly, thickly and warmly. Because she couldn’t speak, they assumed that they hadn’t needed to introduce the word ‘cold’ to her.
I digress. I like cold. I like rain. I like storms. I like different kinds of weather as long as they do not hold still. But cold, misty, wet, windy. Really, not very nice. Is that where the expression ‘chilling cold’ came in?
I guess writing consistently and brilliantly is no easy feat. Especially for one such as me who is prone to all influences. Those influences are my soapy bubbles. They come, are temporary and if I don’t catch them and record them, they go Pop and disappear. If I am lucky, they would come around next time for me again. Hopefully I am with pen and paper. I don’t always like to stop everything
I am doing just to write something down.
I could go on my favourite topics. Figure skating and guitar playing. But I do not have much to talk about.
I haven’t been on the ice. My body was overdone. I might have been warmer had I been there. But I’d been practising in the park. Because it was so cold, I had my hands in my jean’s pockets. I bent one knee, then the other. Remember I told that my left leg does not do as well? Well, as I was bending this leg then that leg, I realized from my hands in my pockets that for both legs, the muscles fired differently. With my better right leg, I could feel the side muscles of my thigh reacting as soon as I started my bend on the same leg. For the other, I could feel no such contraction.
After a while of comparisons, I realized that I do not put my whole weight on my left leg. My left foot on the floor acts as if it was going to step on an egg, hence it would not rest totally on the ground till the last moment. Whereas for the other foot, as soon as it hit the ground, solid weight was placed on it most relaxedly and following that, rests the weight on my hip on the same side. Just like that. That is why when I pull it from its deep position into a turn, it is the most natural turn, with the weight solidly, relaxedly and stably one the blade.
For the other leg. Oh dear. I had to search for what it was doing. It just would not trust the ground. It was ready to bolt as soon as it hit the ground, hence there was no way for that side to reach a stability needed for the turns. My body does not trust my own leg standing. How weird. My foot wouldn’t exactly relax, my hip neither. As for my thigh, it is but the middleman with not much say. I had to give it more time for the weight to sit into my foot and into my hips. So that on the word ‘go’, my hip from its deep position can pull back immediately into the turn.
I’ll find out if this improves my skating on ice.
As for my guitar, maybe the cold is good for it. My cold fingers get quite numb, so the pain is not so readily felt and I could push my practice. I think they could do with a rest now. My Teacher thought I was so good that he emailed me a song bit to try out. That put my fingertips on overdrive. Not a very good idea. I was planning to repeat the previous exercises to its possible perfection but when I was given a new one, everything turned out less than average.
Back to Brrr….