People are always commenting to me how I'm so "energetic" or about how I always seem so "busy" and always seem to be "running everywhere." And, to a certain extent I am very busy, mostly just because I have a million different things going on, and none of them are in the same place, so I spend alot of time just trying to get my shit together. I mean, I don't actually seem to get that much done sometimes, but I do feel stressed out alot because I feel like I'm always supposed to be somewhere, doing something, and usually there are twenty other things that aren't getting done at all.
Anyway, all this is to say that I do have quite a bit of energy and am fairly intense. I wish I had more time to go to the gym and whatnot, because I desperately would love to channel some of that energy into getting into better shape, but I guess that'll happen in due time. But, I never think of myself as particularly energetic or driven until other people point it out to me. I spend quite a bit of time watching TV, or hanging out with my friends drinking beer, so I get enough downtime that I rarely feel like I'm so busy I'm totally missing out on life. If no one said to me "God, you have so much energy, I don't know how you do it all," it would never occur to me to think about it.
And since I rarely think about it, except to complain, I don't often think about where it comes from. I mean, my mom is a BIG FAN of the "You're exactly like your father" line of thinking, but since I spent most of my life having a fairly contentious relationship with him, that was never my favorite theory. It's unmistakeable however that I'm not like my mom, but I wish, wish, wish I was. She's so calm and easy to deal with. My dad is intense, driven, a perfectionist, demanding, stubborn, persistent, intelligent, funny, moody, tireless, aggressive, intimidating, and principled. So yeah, in alot of ways, you could say there MIGHT be one particular side of the family I seem to take after a little bit more.
Today I called my dad because I forgot his birthday on Tuesday and they've been out of town all weekend, so they just got home tonight. They were in Chico, CA. There my dad rode the Chico Wildflower Century, a 100 mile bike race that he rides every year, because he is amazing. Daddy Spatula turned 58 this week. On his birthday, last Tuesday, he rode 58 miles to celebrate. This morning he rode 100 miles, because he can. Conditions were less than optimal this year, and they rode the last thirty miles INTO a 25-mile an hour headwind. And yet, he finished it. And did very, very well. Because, well...he can. My mom rode the 35 mile race, but quit after 22 because the wind was too strong. She's the smart one in the family, she knows when to quit. My dad and I both have a hard time with that one, we're like bulldogs with lockjaw. Energetic bulldogs though. And intimidating. Both of us. I guess you never can escape your genetic destiny...or, maybe this is final proof of nurture over nature. Probably it's both, and isn't that the worst? I'm blessed and doomed, all at the same time. This is sure proof that I'm not going to quit hearing "You're so intimidating" anytime soon.
