Bagpipes Are Playing in My Backyard, and It Is Lovely

As I lounged about my house yesterday, I determined this afternoon would be the perfect time to write. The national championship game was not until nine, the weather forecast was impeccable, and I was finally feeling rested. This morning, while at the gym, I was asked out by a black prison security guard who was no less than two and a half times my size. A perfect entry topic, indeed, and even more appropriate following the analysis of my butt and thighs.

Further, I could discuss the tactics and strategy of weight room stalking and help hundreds of gawking gentlemen land the girl of their dreams on the elliptical to their left. I say gentlemen because I believe it is unfair to judge in this situation. If a guy approached a girl anywhere else, aside from perhaps Victoria's Secret or a construction site, it would not be considered creepy. However, because sweat is involved, said suitor is assumed to be perverted. Such judgment is completely unwarranted, I feel, especially since if you go to the weight room on a consistent basis, you could see each other for one hour a day. If I spend 8% of my waking hours around another, how can I be upset if he asks me out, when a random guy at a bar would ask me home when the only words I have spoken to him were "thank you for spilling beer on my shirt." This is not to say that I will not reject your proposal, as I did this morning. Actually, I told him I would go to lunch with him if I saw him in the weight room again. Thus begins my eight month hiatus of going to the gym - I say eight months because if I have not been on at least one successful date in eight months, I will gladly accept his invitation to dine.

After work, however, I had little desire to address my weight room romance in today's entry. Believe it or not, I could have written more about the subject were it my actual topic of discussion. Anyways, I opened my email this afternoon and found an announcement of the death of a former classmate. Though we were merely acquaintances, we shared the scholarly bond of the marketing major. We had the occasional friendly chat and wished each other happy birthday on Facebook. So perhaps the fact that her life was tragically cut short because of a skiing accident should not affect me; yet, it does.

Since moving, this has been an adventure all my own, cultivated by my independent personality. In many ways, this is great and undoubtedly lends itself to humorous and exciting escapades. For instance, this weekend I befriended an entire men's softball team at a bar. We danced on picnic tables, they bought me drinks that were spilled because I kept putting them on the table/dance floor, and we chatted about sophisticated topics such as how beautiful I thought Mark Wahlberg was in the Departed... and Shooter... and the Fighter. At the end of the night, though, I bid them adieu and did not give them my number, though they asked. After all, it would be silly to think we would meet again.

You are most likely wondering how my rodeo dancing at a bar relates to a young woman's life being ended much too soon. I looked on her Facebook wall, and it was crowded with comments about the love, joy and happiness Andrea brought to people's lives. She clearly impacted those close to her and even those who entered her life only briefly. She will undoubtedly be missed by many.

Perhaps the two incidents are not related in the slightest, but perhaps they are. I think we are supposed to impact others and allow them to impact us on all of our adventures. To what extent I have impacted others, I do not know, but I do know I would be lucky if the guys from the weekend - or even my weight room suitor - remembered anything more than the awesome trench coat or my impeccable form while squatting. (To clarify, I was squatting in the weight room, not the bar.) I suppose what I am saying, in a most round about way, is that I think we all have both the ability and desire to impact the lives of others but do not do so because we are too scared, tired or lazy. Many times, giving ourselves to others leads to disappointment, rejection or failed relationships. Ultimately, though, it is definitely more fulfilling than a lonely adventure.