What I Miss Most- Blanacing Growing Up and Childhood Dreams

I have approximately 5 posts waiting in line to be published...I don't have reliable internet at home so my writing tends to pile up.

But this one I am writing directly to the blog, as a way of forcing myself to publish it. I got anxious....I used to know I had an audience and felt obligated to post. But said audience member is no longer reading-- at least not weekly. I was supposed to be writing for myself anyway and contemplated deleting the blog as a re-recognition of this fact. But here I am, typing away, because if I tell the world it becomes more true.

Today? I woke up at 6am and watched two soccer games while folding laundry and drawing. It left me remembering my last world cup-- Summer '06 -- when I was in England studying architecture and playing soccer at least twice a day with all my new international friends. I miss that summer...not in a I-want-to-go-back way, but a I-want-those-priorities-again way.

Not to say I have my priorities out of line, its just that I am four years older and a lot has changed. Soccer is no longer my life and I find myself enrolled in one of the nation's top universities masquerading as a student. I also changed interests. I still love art, I still love to draw, to figure out buildings, to explore, to adventure.....but I hate being forced to do all of those things. Which makes finding a career in those interests difficult.

I stopped playing soccer because I literally break every time I put my foot on the field. Or really, any time I am having fun being athletic, I get hurt. I'm not a weakling, (my tolerance for pain would top 80% of females) my body was just meant to hold a much heavier, non athletic person. The strain from impact and twisting tends to make it angry.

So I made a quality of life decision-- I stopped playing. But now my heart hurts. Quite literally. I am obsessed with the world cup and it makes my feet itch for the soccer ball left unpacked downstairs, or the cleats ceremoniously hanging from my closet door. The grass outside blowing in the wind yearns for the squeaking of my cleats cutting through the roots, yearns to be dried of its morning dew by the flick of the plastic coated ball or the kangaroo leather of my cleats. My north facing windows looks over the pitifully small back yard and all I can think is how much I could do with all that space and the soccer ball.

Coaching has always been fun, and certainly and option, but now I can't make the time for it. I have school, work, Alpha Phi Omega (a service fraternity) and now Relay for Life. All of these are new priorities, new ideas. I am passionate about all of them.

But I miss the soccer field.

I also miss making the time for arts and crafts, drawing, photography, theater....any kind of expression up that alley. Writing is sort of that direction, thus this is an outlet. But I fear when the school year returns, I will sadly once again leave this behind.

Especially with the schedule I am trying to pull.

My priorities are in order, but I wonder if being "right" will also make me insane.

Is it possible that living life incorrectly, or irresponsibly, is the only way I am going to actually find a smile on my face all the time?

I'm going to close this up, throw another load of laundry in, and strap on an ankle brace and grab the soccer ball. Just playing a little shouldn't hurt too much, physically or emotionally?

EDIT, 2 hours later: Soccer was fun. Just me and the ball. And my ankle swelled up, but it swells up if I walk too much. But no answer was found. I don't know what to do.

I can't turn my back on soccer, yet I don't know what to compromise.