I was going to write about Bulgaria on the Travel blog … I typically have my blog crafted out in my head at most impromptu or inconvenient moments … like when I’m about to sleep, watching the soapy water wash down the shower gauntlet, in the company of people who yelps yelps yelps non-stop and mostly when I need my hands for other things.
So. this Bulgaria entry has been nagging me from time to time.
Each with a different angle or a totally different story.
I don’t recall Bulgaria much other than Sophia was when the entire vacation with him fell apart for me – in my “books” at least. Yes, I doubt he knew it. Or knows it. He reads this space occasionally, so he may know it now.
Val had always said I am just too sensitive. Her daughter’s caught it from me now; though at least a thousand times worse! It’s nothing to be proud about. It’s rather tiresome (if you’re the mother) and annoying bratty (if you’re the aunt with a gad-zillion pressing things waiting to be done that does not include humouring a 6 year old or apologizing for no apparent reason).
Last night, I had a Venice “conversation” … but no creative juice. So as I sat in front of my Mac staring at nothing and yet entertaining the feeling of being suspended between exhaustion (brain fart-type-of-numbness) and a state of total alertness (where caffeine starts making you seem like you have onset symptoms of Parkinson’s disease) … this was till 2 am in the morning where I thought it was seriously time to just hit the sack, count sheep or whatever.
As I lay still in bed with the humidity enveloping me despite the desperate attempts of the air-conditioning hisses to cool the room down I was hit by two random thoughts in succession: luge and 50 Shades of Grey.
For the life of me I’ve no idea what luge is, but yet I have the image of people in skin tight suits lying on one another on a giant skateboard going down a half opened chute – this appears to be correct, having just googled luge some 8 minutes ago. Now, I’m not going to explain how luge took a “natural” progression to 50 Shades of Grey, which I swear to all nature of Gods and unnatural (but super?)natural Gods I’ve neither read nor seen the movie … and to think about it, have no real desire to.
So. back to luge.
I do like Winter Olympics. It’s really one of the few things you can continue to watch on the plane when your earphones have been confiscated. And on the plus side, it cost almost nothing to get reassurance that you’re normal – your shrink’s yelp yelp yelp pales in comparison to the visual imagery of people doing crazy flips, scissors kicks, twist, twirls, running on knife thin “shoes” on one of the most slippery thing there is on this earth!, to well lying prone facedown or upward with your head or feet heading down a descend …
But luge (and skeleton) – now, that’s out of the books bizarre. For the life of me I can’t phantom why anyone who’s at least taller than 3 feet tall would dream of using oneself as a bullet, knowing the eminent danger, and having the sense of (questionable?) humour to call it skeleton.
As a sport, it’s remains questionable in my books. Seriously, is there much skill involved? Wouldn’t aerodynamics clothes, great wheelies/ blades on air light boards ensures one’s advantage over the other? I mean, how hard would it be to lie still? And I mean petrified, muscle tensed still (under such conditions)?
It’s obvious I am no figure skating fan… which frankly … how is figure skating sports again? Men and women doing their jig in even weird clothes being judge by their radiant smile, choice of music and hairdo is a sport? An olympic sport?
Oh well, I guess the luge music is important too – wait, there’s music?
If that’s not bad enough, what’s with the curling teams?!? Now, don’t go asking me what curling is!