Speculations by the Subway

Be Aggressive B-E Aggressive, B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E, aggressive, B-E aggressive. I can remember the soccer team chanting loudly before hitting the field. And it was true, if you wanted to win, you needed to be aggressive.

As a goalkeeper it was a much finer science. A goalkeeper needs to realize the exact moment to be aggressive in order to stop the ball. It is all about timing and bravery. I was fearless. Like most things, there are drills to perfect that fearlessness; 6 soccer balls lined up a foot apart, one striker about a foot in front of you. Diving at their feet the moment of impact, an occasional cleat to the face or stomach only made you tougher. Timing is everything, jump too soon and your efforts won’t cut it; too late and you will miss. Three bounds backward and throwing yourself into the air in order to tip the ball over the top far corner; it is invigorating. The number of fingers that have fallen casualties to aggressive strikers…countless.

Later in my life I consider the same aggression as I get strong armed out of the subway car on my way to work yesterday. I pout in disappointment about being late to work and that I am not being that I am not aggressive enough in my professional and personal life. Even my soccer game has grown more timid. I fear that I have begun to let my friends, romantic interests, bosses and coworkers walk all over me.

When did I become so afraid of everything? I had this same thought as I boarded the airplane for my adventure in Switzerland last January. I found comfort in the idea that “Courage is not the absence of fear but the judgment that something else is more important than fear”, now however, I just wish I could abolish all of the fear in my life.

I find myself constantly holding my breath fearing criticism from my short yet very intimidating boss. Because of my recent lack of aggression I have found myself at work on days off, worrying what the little monster will think if she found out I was stupid enough to come in.

The funny thing is that confidence had never been a problem growing up, I didn’t care what people thought about me. I knew I was doing great things and nothing stopped me. I wore ridiculous outfits and didn’t care that I was a soccer-playing-band-geek. I know the cow print pajama pants were defiantly not one of my finest fashion moments but why am I so concerned that I don’t own black clothes and look like a New Yorker? What’s so great about fitting in?

Aggression; something that people in New York City don’t lack. Six minutes passed, here comes the Six Train again. I hold my bag tighter and fight my way onto the crowed subway, in anger; I realize I will fight to find my way to where I belong. Time to carefully decide my moment to be aggressive. When is yours?

Speculations by the Free Weights

As I approach my next weight lifting endeavor I turn to my left to and ask the attractive athlete, “Are you using this machine?” Now he has the opportunity to watch my kind of sad lat pull downs with measly 60 pounds. My unforgiving pony-tail and sweat dripping down my back after an hour bike ride, I am sure make me quite the sight. This proves that picking up guys at the gym is utterly impossible.

In theory, it seems like a good idea. I spend a sizable amount of time at the gym, we would have a shared interest in fitness, and it shows a concern for his health. In sitcoms it always seems to work, and they sell all of those overpriced cute workout outfits. But with out fail, no matter what kind of workout gear I cannot seem to look like anything except a goof ball.

Do you remember that DSW commercial that is narrated like a nature film describing women in their natural habitat, shoe shopping? When I go to the gym, in my head I have the same kind of comical narration. I always find the gym kind of like a primitive watering hole. All different kinds of animals come. Each species finds their own routine and goes about their business accordingly.

Today we found the social butterflies, that like to start on treadmills next to each other and “walk n’ talk”. They then sometimes migrate to other areas of the gym gossiping with others. It seems that their mouth gets more of a work out than anything else. Outside of the gym this species might be called, townies. Occasionally you can find the rare old woman, clad in spandex that is revealing way too much. You will always find the large muscular men that have more muscles than brain cells. They are recognizable from a far by their loud clanging produced by the slamming of heavy weights. From close up these creatures are most recognizable by their thick necks.

In NYC my roommate claims that her gym is prime cute man material but as far as budding romance at the gym, I think I will take a pass and stick to what I know; very very slow running.

Speculations in the City

A few weeks ago while I was in NYC, my father and I decided to hit up a local Italian restaurant for dinner. After venturing around in the freezing cold we finally stumbled upon a restaurant called Mediterraneo. Despite the generic name the place seemed to be hopping! It was a tiny little fancy restaurant with food that appeared to look good.

After entering we were led through a gridlock of tables, I was holding my breath and praying not to knock over anyone’s wine in the process. Finally, we landed at this table no bigger than a checkerboard that made my father and I look like we were trying to escape a clown car. The restaurant probably held about 60 tables for two but really only had space for 30.

Picture this, a very small dark restaurant with about twenty too many tables and as many servers as there are customers. Now mind you I am not complaining, because nearly all of the servers were very young and attractive Italian men. Despite the sheer volume of staff and the server to customer ratio, it seemed that all of them were confused about who was taking our table.

To top it off, their food had absolutely no taste! I mean their sauce might as well have been sheer tomato paste. Was I missing something? This restaurant was clearly a hot spot as it was filled to the brim with happy people ordering mountains of food. Do they taste something I don’t?

Obviously the Bistro set my service expectations a little too high. Bistro By the Sea where we serve flavorful food, efficiently, and with a smile for approximately two hundred people within ninety minutes. Though this trip did provide inspiration. Clearly what the Bistro needs is more attractive Italian men.