First off, I loathe group activities - team sports, book clubs, committees, exercise classes, standing in line, riding in a car with someone I don't like, having more than one voice in my head, etc. Being part of a group makes me feel nervous and obligated. I'm bound to dislike someone or something that's said, and then I will be unhappy and unable to leave. Secondly, I am terrified of having things thrown at me. I blame this on my brother and his penchant for launching projectiles at my head in order to showcase my terrible reflexes. For someone who's fairly coordinated in other arenas, my catching-things reflexes are laughably slow. Perhaps I shouldn't spend the first three seconds of response time contemplating how best to hide, but whatever. I'm good at other things.
Yesterday, I played a game of basketball. That's right, I participated in a team sport that involved catching things, AND I did this in front of an audience. It actually wasn't terrible. I didn't really interact with others; I just pretended that they were little, mobile basketball hoops with agendas. I caught the ball, I bounced it up and down, I threw it at the big hoop. It didn't go in, but it didn't airball, either. All in all, pretty solid, I thought. But today... At least fifteen people have stopped me to comment on my performance. "You were the best!" "You were hilarious!" "SO funny!" "OMG, I was dying!"
Maybe it's to do with this spunky little kick that happens when I throw. Maybe my cuteness was overpowering. Maybe you shouldn't skip down a basketball court. Maybe losing track of the ball while you're dribbling just isn't done. Maybe it was my sleeveless Orange Crush t-shirt that n.o.c. bought off a homeless guy in San Francisco. Maybe it was my argyle knee socks. It's hard to say.
Nonetheless, I think I've been sufficiently adventurous for 2009. If you need me, I'll be alone, surrounded by soft, stationary objects.