Feeling Old at Nineteen (Part 1) – Mad Chaos: January 9, 1999

A Desolate Little Life

If there was a chance to explain my life at this point in time with one defining word I would find my life to be desolate. This I have accounted for in my Diary for some time but as I once again walked past the sole valentines card now outdated I gathered a picture of my life. Like noted prior to these words, my acquaintances it feels have deserted me, my infrequent companion none the better and my life in response is much the same.

I can barely support myself as I have no job and no confidence within myself for that reason and many others that regrettably stops me from meeting people. I have only these thoughts, my pride, my dignity and my faith to keep me from having nothing and most of the times, that isn’t even enough. Tonight, boredom doesn’t ensue completely but to a lesser degree as I have my companion and my savant with these thoughts I type.

Lyssa Calls After Midnight

Lyssa didn’t come over tonight as I figured she would do but she did give me a call just after midnight. It seems that Lyssa didn’t want to go out with Nikita because she would feel weird around her so she went out with Penelope, Ali and Kiley. At first the word was to head for the Catholic Club but Lyssa didn’t feel like that and wanted to watch ‘Ever After’.

Heading to the twin cinemas in Campbelltown they paid for their tickets but upon walking into the cinema they were amazed that there wasn’t a seat available. For that reason they got a refund of their money and headed off to the Catholic Club. Lyssa told me that it was shit at the Catholic Club and she wasn’t having that good a time but it sounded like she still resented Nikita’s comment and at that was resenting her conversation with me.

Lyssa was tanning her legs with fake tan for her big stay over at Penrith Panther’s tomorrow for Ali’s birthday. Lyssa asked if I had any plans yet for my birthday but I don’t even know myself what is going on. All I know is that everyone apart from Jett (Which is always the case) is being a dog.

Lyssa and I conversed for fifteen minutes and then it was time for Lyssa to get to bed. I don’t think that Lyssa and I will speak tomorrow as she will be off for Ali’s birthday but if she does decide to give me a call (Which I doubt) it will be a sign of good faith. If Lyssa decides not to call then this will be the first day in a very long time that Lyssa and I have stopped talking and it won’t affect me very much apart from spacing me all the more from her.

A Poem About Time

Let me just note in this space of time now being 5:49 a.m. that I have finally created that poem about time that I have been speaking of in the past couple of days. Now I’m too tired to say much about the poem other than the fact that it talks about time taking away my youth and creeping by in my old age. What I will say after that last sentence is that I feel old already.

My bones are constantly cracking when I stand up or get out of bed and I’m beginning to wonder if that’s a good sign or a sign that I have weak bones. Whatever this means I’m sure we can work it out some other time. All in all it wasn’t a bad attempt to convert my thoughts into poetry but I should have waited until a more inspired or motivated time was upon me. Nevertheless, here now is the poem that I have been working on for quite some time now…

Time Plays The Beggar

Time doth play the beggar that swindles my prime

What such visage thou hast that I shan’t see,

That cunning thy years do wrinkle my skin,

With thee, heavens measure eternity,

And open their gates when stretched is thy grin,

This cunning of grins, mark shall thy entrance,

That consumes aged with the sharpest of tooth,

This stubborn meat is mine only defense,

But shan’t foul thy taste to bring back my youth,

This seized youth, where flew swiftly thy greed, now,

Livid these bones plead but slowly you creep,

And of my life was made a wondrous cloud,

In these minutes, hours and days, thy flocked sheep,

And yet with dignity I curtsy place,

To nature’s time and of element’s grace,

Saturday 11:54 p.m.

Fear Of Stretch Marks

The downfall of my countless hours in the Gym are the present fears that I might one day tear a tendon, tear a muscle or the fear that I could accumulate more stretch marks in revealing places. The stretch marks on the backs of my legs haven’t haunted me but they have etched an awareness in the back of my mind of the possibility of newly found markings. You could imagine then that I was concerned and somewhat distraught when I noticed while looking closely at my Chest in the mirror slight red markings on the right side of my Chest near where the pain has occurred.

This new finding did make me realize my skin’s vulnerability and for that I was trying to find answers. The markings are very faint and unnoticeable even when fairly close but with a scrupulous glance you can see them. All in all there are five or six curved lines no bigger than a couple of millimeters but they have potential. The reason I believe that these slight stretch marks (If that is what they are) haven’t occurred over time of weight training but mainly in the next half an hour succeeding a Chest workout.

While at the Gym and nearing the end of my workout my Chest and all other body-parts that I am working out become inflamed with size and they keep their robust appearance well after the workout for at least half an hour. Muscle size then diminishes at least 50-100% after that as the pump is no longer there but in that time from the picking up of weights to cooling down at home my skin is under a great deal of stress from the constant stretch delivered by the rigid muscles.

There are also plenty of exercises that are the main part of my Chest workout that stretches the Chest over a long arc so that could also be subject to scrutiny. Whatever the problem is I will keep a tight eye on my Chest from here forth as I don’t want to accrue a proportion of stretch marks on my Chest or anywhere else for that matter. And as far as heavy bench pressing exercises goes, I’m sticking away from these killers for much more time.

A Month Of Chest Pain

It has been near to one month now that this ache in my Chest has developed and even after one month this pain still persists at the slightest attempt to redeem my Bench Pressing routine. I propose to get an X-Tatton of some sort done on my Chest so I can see if there is any damage and the extent to what the damage has become. For near to one month my whole Chest routine has seen a dramatic change and my back had to compensate with one or two exercises. The future I predict to hold a couple more months of this.

Looking Back On The Years

Once again I am compelled to write about my thoughts of the past years, be it the derogatory ‘Lost Years’ or the years prior. I’m pretty sure I’ve commented my opinions of these time frames but here I am once again to comment upon them. If you were to ask me where I thought the beginning of my life had started I would tend to be certain that 1997 would have been the pinnacle of my inception. 1997 was the start of my learning curve in the time predominantly known as the lost years.

This was also the year of the most learning of everyday life and where my mind began to think for itself and realize the potency of emotions. Hence, in 1997 I began my journey to be someone, something I had not thought of all too often previously.

1998 was the year of ‘Slow Diminishing’ and by that you would grasp the concept of my downfall in my learning curve and the gateway for my diminishing fall. Everything I once held dear to my life that began in 1997 had failed me in one way or another and was becoming lost. That of my companionship, my idealization of friendship, my concept of working in harmony and the factual dreams that once were.

Before the beginning of my life which could be seen as a factual second rising of God in literary terms, there was those years after his first uprising in my birth and before the latter rising. I speak not of the forgotten years when I used to be a child running around in my Diapers but I recall the years of 1995 and more importantly 1996. These were the years before the lost years that I feel important to the uprising of further bodybuilding zeniths within these later years. These years were the uprising of my bodybuilding legend that continues through these modern years of my life.

Old English To Modern

My continuing progress in life can be seen in three different perspectives. If my life were the English language the beginning blocks of my uprising that were 1995-1996 would be seen as Old English or better known as Shakespearean literature. the lost years being 1997-1998 would be recognized as middle English or more recognizably, the renaissance period.

These years that now begin with 1999 will be the modern English of my time where like my poetry, old English traits once again bloom in the frameworks of my literature. In this, I mean that I have once again picked up the habit and the hunger to strive in bodybuilding and I have also picked out partial enthusiasm from the Renaissance to look for more out of my life.