Blades are good for socializing

Yes, it’s absolutely true.

I know what you’re thinking now. You think I’m so completely out of my mind I must be going through an Out of Body Experience. You think I’ve finally gone conkers, over the edge, snapped like a twig. You’re shaking your head and calling up the police and the nice people in white to come take me away to tea. You think I am a hazard to mankind and should be stopped before kids start brandishing swords and going “Yarrr!!!” at strangers. You're also marvelling at my amazing psychic powers right about now.

But hold that thought! No, no, don’t let go, hold it for a little while longer, yes, yes, that’s right, good, keep at it— I meant rollerblades. No, really, I did.

Bold + Italic = t3h sexy.

As I was saying, blades = t3h ultimate socializing tool. People are infinitely friendlier towards someone flailing his or her arms about like a complete dolt. A dolt on wheels, no less. They look at me and — feeling completely unthreatened by a fool who can’t even stand straight and/or turn a bend without crashing into the railing or bushes — generously dispense their intelligent views and expert analysis on the sport. They tell me to not fall on my face, as though I believe it to be the holy pinnacle of skating. Then, amazingly enough, they tell me to not be afraid to fall on my face. Such wisdom! Had they not contribute such intelligent words, I would never have realized that it is, in all actuality, not alright to fall on my face.

And that, my dear readers, was why I spent the rest of my rollerblading session thinking up a million different scenarios that may or may not lead to me falling on my face. Encouraging thoughts indeed.

All sarcasm aside though, rollerblading is very fun. I still can’t get past my fear of falling though, even when decked out in full armour. I can’t explain it, but whenever I strap on my wrist/knee/elbow pads, I keep having the most inexplicable urge to go attack a castle at night armed with only a spear. I have yet to do so, however, because of the simple fact that I do not know of any fortresses in my immediate vicinity. That and the fact that I do not actually have a spear in my possession, despite what some badly injured and/or seriously maimed people might tell you. No, really.

The park near my house is a pretty good place to train. By that I mean there is a short stretch of jogging trail there I can use to pathetically inch my way along while clinging onto the rail as though my life depended on it. I could skate the whole jogging trail, but as of now my skillz ain’t 1337 enough for me to be absolutely sure I won’t skate right into the huge ass lake smack dab in the middle of the park and drown. That’s, like, kind of hard to do, considering I can’t even turn bends. Or brake, for that matter.

Kids are easily amused. Lots of ‘em seem to enjoy watching my pathetic attempt at skating even though it isn’t remotely a) cool and/or b) amusing. It is actually c) highly boring. I suspect it must be quite irritating to watch, actually. I’d be quite annoyed too if I saw some skater inch along like a terrified snail when I was actually expecting him/her to bust out some 1337 jumps, twirls and skate-fu. I dunno how many kids I’ve disappointed, but hell, I can’t do nothin’ bout it, kiddo. Maybe I should stick a sign on my back, something along the lines of “Move along now, nothing to see” or “I am NOT going to cartwheel”. Or better yet, just stick a huge “L” license sticker on my back. Then again, I don’t think the kids will understand, being the cute yet utterly mindless kids they are. But it doesn’t matter, ‘cuz whenever the friendly neighbourhood ice-cream man rolls along they conveniently forget about the completely un1337 skater and flock to him like a mob of ice-cream depraved children before you can even say “OMGWTFBBQ!!!”.

Ice-cream is indeed the solution to all of life’s problems. Do not question the power of ice-cream!!

The moral of the story is:
A random mindless blog about rollerblading may or may not end with the word “ice-cream”, depending on the weather, the alignment of the planet Sedna and/or psychic alien forces.

Remember kids, blades are good for socializing! Ice-cream!

Alive, kickin' and turnin' 18

Sorry folks, I ain't dead yet.

That's right, I'll be turning 18 the minute January the 5th rolls along this side of the planet. And that's, oh, in a few minutes time.

Words cannot express the love I feel for my timezone.

Funny how I can't seem to write anything about my turning 18. I guess it's totally special and yet, at the same time, totally not.

Here I am, counting down the minutes to my birthday, and BAM! I'm suddenly overwhelmed by all the things I haven't done and want to do. Dreams I want to achieve, places I want to go, people I want to meet and things I want to see. There's too much of life I've yet to experience, y'know?

I guess I kind of understand why most games have 17-18 year old heroes now. 18 is the age where you feel like going out there and changing the world.

Well, this is my story. I'm sure it'll be a good one.

Galvea, over and out.