Thursday, February 8, 2018

So Many Other Things

The day after the Super Bowl, it occurred to me that I watch a lot of football games.

I spend a lot of time and money on football.

I go to a lot of parties celebrating it.

I support those who love it and live it.

And on that day after the Super Bowl, I was relieved that football season is over for now. Having a breather from arranging my life around football – either watching it or avoiding it – is welcome.

It’s not that I’m morally opposed to football. It’s just not interesting to me. I don’t care about it. I feel about football the way other people feel about opera, or the way engines work, or astrology, or the feeding habits of mackerel, or Project Runway. Football just isn’t my bag.

And yet, because those important to me love football, I spend a lot of my life on football.

It is weird to not be into something that your friends and family are really, really into a lot of the time. I can’t speak meaningfully about football, recall details about it, or join the excitement that follows it. You’d think that just by association I’d be more into it, but instead I withdraw when the subject rolls around. I’ve been told “If you tried to understand it, you would!” “If you learned how it’s played, it would make more sense!” Well, of course.  But I’ve achieved my peak level of interest in the game. I know enough to know I don’t want to know more.
It occurred to me, the day after the Super Bowl, that though I love the people around me who love football, I haven’t really been working that hard to do the things that I find interesting.

It’s my own fault for not looking out for myself better, but it’s also a consequence of being a mom and wife. I’m used to helping others with their own interests and putting mine to the side. I put my interests first a few years ago when I started writing, but even that fell by the wayside as my family’s interests became more demanding and I became more involved in supporting them.

I’ve spent years giving to others so that their lives can function, to the sacrifice of my own interests. It’s cool to give yourself to others, but when you have filled your life with the lives of others, the life is sort of squeezed out of you.

So the day after the Super Bowl, I wondered just what is it that interests me?

So many other things, I remembered. Faith. History. Other cultures. Working with others. Movies. Art. Languages. Reading. Writing.

Football didn’t make the cut.

But how do you get back to what interests you, after a time of only being interested in what others are interested in?

You start small.

What can I do? I can read. I can dust off my blog for the hundredth time and get back to writing. The Oscars are coming up and I never miss watching. I can go to the movies to see all the Best Picture nominees, something I want to do every year but have never, ever done.

My interests are many. You’d never know it. I almost forgot, too.



    Couldn't contain my excitement.

    1. Aw you. xo You and me, we're going to be the last blogger-writers standing and the new order of blogging will be built on our shoulders. Got your big girl pants on? Here we go.