So, you know I'm just really fucking tired and not feeling at all good about the state of Ms. Conduct when I'm driving home from hockey at midnight and Miley Cyrus comes on the radio and gets me bawling.
What am I? 12 years old? God.
To my credit, it was a really tough night at the rink and for the first time, I thought, "Maybe I'm being a fool with this." So, the lyrics really did hit home.
Still, as justifiable as I'm trying to make it seem, I totally disgust myself with my own emo-ness. Yuck. Pile that on to my frustration with just being a craptastic goalie and getting in trouble from the boys for nutting a guy (I sent him an email apologizing just now) and being a little bitch to Scott TFCG... I'm just feeling like a heel. This second childhood thing is going a little too literally for my taste.
But there's nothing I can do now but do better next time.
So, let me celebrate a few little victories.
- We were on the ice for close to 3 hours and I held up. I was BEGGING for Jiri to open the fucking bay door and run the Zamboni by the end, but I did what I was told to do, mostly.(Scott's gonna argue with me on this point tomorrow, I guarantee it.)
- My blocker glove no longer smells like ass. I ran ripping hot water through it for a while yesterday, and then dried it off with a little fan blowing in it and a couple of dryer sheets stuffed inside. My hand smells like Bounce. This is infinitely better than ass.
- I caught a puck, but it was on a drill and Scott told him to shoot at my glove, so I can't get excited about it as much as Scott wanted me to.
- My knees are bruised. My groin muscles are sore. I'm deliriously tired. I feel like shit mentally. But I'll be ready to go again next week.
May try to hit a Space City stick and puck this week rather than Willowbrook. I'd like more time to just work on some of the lateral movement we worked on this week and I can do that at a quieter stick and puck. Need to see when schools are letting out around there.
Seems like I have bad hockey nights when I wear my Clutterbuck shirt. I'm not doing that again. Though I did get to have a Clutter lovefest with a guy who was watching the game before ours. Man, I miss watching that guy play hockey.
I came home to a lovely email from a fellow editor for In Goal Magazine with nice things to say about my writing. Thank god, at the end of the day, I do something well. I mean really. Thank you, sweet-smelling Baby Jesus, for giving me something that comes naturally. Because it's not goaltending.