Those Friday Night Lights

Autumn. Cool fall air. Leaves fluttering at your feet. That cozy feeling when you first put on your sweater, making you feel as if you were almost naked for an eternal summer. There are so many lovely familiarities to the arrival of the fall season.
 If you live near a school then your familiar with the Friday night lights. The cheers from the stands that echo in the neighborhood. Football season has started.
Those fall Friday nights always make me smile. I remember being in school and those games were the whose who, its own internal cast system. The upper echelon held court near the sidelines.. You had to maneuver your social situation very carefully. Where you stood/sat in the crowd. What outfit you would wear. Would you go to Burger King Or McDonald's afterwards? Was there going to be a dance/activity night following.
To be young. Carefree. Eternally invincable. It was all such a big deal. We were a big deal.
And for a little while, we really were. Our high school football team went through a pretty big winning streak.
Quite a few championships garnered a mural on the concession stand with the years of wins and the portrait of our famed Quarterback.
Year after year it comforted me so to see this. Everytime I went to a game, or ran that school track I would smile when I saw that mural. That was my time. Our time.
It reminded me: We were invincible. Our literal stamp of existence for all of Columbia County to see. Though the students there now have no idea who this was, or who we were.. the bon fires and rally's we held, this painting withstood time and made me feel special.

Today, I ran that track like I do everyday. As I began my run I smiled seeing the setup for tonight's game. When I passed the section where I was a cheerleader I imagined myself cheering me along.. to have a great run.
Comfort.
As I rounded the bend, I noticed something unfamiliar. That morning the concession stand was painted over. The paint still wet, its beige'y drippy splatters hitting the ground. The spray paint machine still sitting at the foot of the wall.
It quite literally took my breath away.
It was gone.
We , we were gone.

This time of my life was no longer permanently & abstractly painted on the side of a wall.
I shocked myself by how much this affected my thoughts for the duration of my run. I mean really. It was 15 years ago. My cabinets are filled with colorful photographs depicting some of the best times of my life. Why was this mural so important enough that its removal took the air out of my lungs?
Two Ipod songs & a mile later I got it!
Seeing it there made me feel invincible, carefree. Even now, years later, it brought about a feeling that only time can capture. (If we let it)
I realized, when I'm 90, I want to look back at my 30's as this wild youthful time. A time where wisdom was finally showing its face, cash flow was slightly better then your 20's, and you finally fit well in your skin (and it shows). You discovered the importance of good wine & beer, & the importance of "girlfriend vacations."
So what would I do to try to fixate this time? Make it extremely memorable.. carefree? Back then, in my youthful teens, bills, children, grocery shopping weren't the center of my being. I was. The world revolved around me.
I pause now at even typing what seems like such a selfish idea. I think I need more me. Even more then I take now. I want to vacation with my girlfriends more. Go shopping with just the sole idea of shopping for me! Order a family pizza for once with at least half the toppings I really want. (Not all the time, just maybe once a month) And dare I say this one, I want to lock eyes with a good looking stranger and hold his gaze with all my feminine power until I decide to break the spell and laugh uncontrollably. (I think thats harmless enough that my husband wouldn't mind)
I just want to break a few rules, while still filling up my 401K. I want to stop thinking so much and listen just a little bit harder to what the carefree girl inside wants.
Shes still there. Shes still cheering me on from the sidelines.

Even though the years are painted over on the side of that wall and some new ones will be put in their place, I intend to make this year and the ones to follow mighty competitive to the past. Burn some amazing, carefree, world is my oyster kind of memories into my wall of fame.
And I may still rock a cheerleading costume if I feel like it:) Except this time I'll go all the way with my guy!

Heres my first stab at a blog. Its such a strange word I feel, for something that I assume is/will be very intimate, almost soul bearing. Unlike a social networking site with rules and bounderies & buttons to judge if you like, this poses to me the freedom for sharing my creative ideas, artwork, photography,a random rant or maybe a fantastic recipe for a rainy night.

 Pieces of You. That will be my title.
Because you've made me. You were the one that taught me, you loved me, you hurt me, you shared with me, you broke me, you lifted me, you gifted me, you left me, you cared for me. All the many people who have come in & out of my life have left me with a piece that shaped, morphed me into the person at this moment who is writing this. I will change. I will be different, perhaps only slightly, tomorrow, for whatever pieces I'm given by then. Not to mention It was the album title of the very first CD I ever bought. Pieces of You. Seems fitting.

So, like I do with all relationships, I'll step in slowly, almost tiptoe with this. When it doesn't feel like the floor will fall through leaving me shattered with all my many pieces to pick up, I'll run in & I'll jump wildly on the bed, shaking out my hair, plop down to reveal to you all my pretty, shiny, pieces. My sharp & daggared bloody ones. The vintage muted colored pieces I hold close to, & maybe, MAYBE the rare jewel toned ones.