i love the crisp coldness of the winter air. i love the dim yellow light. i love the way the carpet sinks down as i walk in it, i love the echo of the sound the fan of my laptop makes in the hollowness of my room. i love driving my mom's car through the wide streets that is home. i love the company of old friends, restaurants that defined memories, remnants of faded feelings, nostalgia, the holiday air and the the christmas decorations that adorn the malls and street lights.

true to fashion, lisa supplies me with literary quotes.

"i can not love you unless i give you up."

edith wharton | the age of innocence.

am i too old to like britney? i think not. shush. her album's out and i'm going to buy it.

i've fallen in love.

with diesel jeans.

if these tears fall, that means i'm weak, that means i haven't moved forward, that means i'm back at square one. if there were an off button for the heart, i'd purchase it in an instant.

i remembered when i used to have so much more endurance. seriously, does two years of not ever exercising completely atrophy your entire body system? at the gym this evening (thank you lisa for coming with me even though you ran for 5 minutes on the treadmill and walked for the other 10) i was rowing and towards the middle, i was giving such a half ass effort i was almost even going to stop, regardless of the fact that i still had 500 meters left to go and that i hate quitting.

i remembered the suicides we had to do in tennis practice, back and forth from line to line on the singles and doubles court. the stairs that i hated so much but willed myself to do. the 9 am tai-bo sessions in the aerobics room. the jump-roping. the laps around the basketball court. the damn 50 serves we had to make perfectly. and of course, the "brahma run" (my HS mascot was the brahma, yes i know, essentially a cow) which consisted of pure torture - laps around the tennis court, down and up stairs, around the track, up the bleachers, around the baseball fields, through campus, and back to the tennis courts.

looking back, i miss it all. i miss pushing myself to extremes. i miss the adrenaline high after running the mile (and i hate running). i miss the thunk that the tennis ball makes when you hit it at just the right spot on your racket. i miss acing the opponent. i miss being active.

so hello gym, here i come. every damn day.

i miss being young. i miss being naive. i miss not knowing about feelings, about insecurities, about dreams and expecations. i miss the ice cream truck. i miss riding my bike. i miss glow in the dark band-aids, and lemonade, and tv dinners after school. i miss the liquor store down the hill. i miss my childhood friends that i never talk to anymore. i miss believing in santa claus. i miss rolling down hills. i miss sandboxes, and swings, and rollerblading down slides. i miss ms. sandy and her pet snake george. i miss rim lane, and ronald reagan park. i miss macaroni and cheese at the afterschool fun club. i miss throwing wet towels at the ceiling in the bathroom. i miss fur elise. i miss playing the piano. i miss the carelessness of a time when nothing mattered but the end of the day and the anticipation for the next. i miss being young.