i was having a pretty rotten friday.
Thursday led right into it, I couldn't sleep, i couldn't do anything.
i couldn't focus, i didn't know what i should be doing with my time, it was exhausting to even think about getting up and showering and clothing myself.
so i went to mass. and cried all through it.
and i went to a coffee shop and talked with a friend.
and i went to the library.
and then i walked past a boxing gym.
and turned around.
and walked back into it.
"Do you guys have something I can hit?"
yes! yes! of course! come on in! have you hit anything before?
no. i hadn't.
two minutes later. my hands are wrapped. i've gloves on. i'm still in my jeans.
and i'm learning 1-2 on a hitting bag with a behemoth named tony warchild, (tattoos on face, mohawk, happy, polite, pleasant demeanor.)
four hours later, i'm leaving, and signed up for classes.
i've a knot on the top of my foot from kicking someone's elbow (i'll learn,) and i know i need to eat more food before boxing (a bagel and a cup of coffee is not enough, OBVIOUSLY.)
and i'm a happy lady, happier than i've been in awhile.
and i went to mpmf day 2, for like, ten minutes.
i bought a sandwich and watched the graffiti artists do their thing.
then i left.
it's not always so awesome when you're by yourself.
AND besides, i needed to sleep for my boxing class this morning. !!!