Yesterday I was at T's basketball tournament outside Madison all day. Here are the notes.

3/4/11 Sunday 8:19AM

I'm in the Deerfield Elementary School gym, east of Madison, waiting for the start of T's basketball tournament. The space is tight, a large gym divided by a curtain so two games can run concurrently. A few players are warming up. We're forty minutes early. I'll probably write until the game starts then put the laptop away lest the device catch a ball or diving player.

So I haven't written in two weeks. The grey, useless February weather dragged on. I read both a history of west coast punk and Rollin's A Preferred Blur. I continued working out, five days a week cardio and three days a week weights. Classes lacked energy but picked up this last week. Little office drama. I saw Waiting for Superman and caught up on Castle, Community, and Modern Family episodes. Coffee's been good. After a week of nightmares I took Dr. B. up on her additional anti-anxiety option. The spelling, which I'll probably botch, and can't look up, since the gym is wireless-free, is hyproxosine or something similar. The first time I combined the h-word pills with lunesta I was flying, like the way my memory conceptualizes the first stages of high-quality LSD. The ceiling fan shadows were a deep, rich brown. I watched them spin for ten minutes or so before I fell asleep.

The additional quality sleep gets me through the day, maybe even more than gets me through the day. Yesterday M and I talked about the fall schedule and I stayed calm and even. I don't know that if I'll ever get past the guilt associated with PTSD but I sometimes can breathe and put the past in the past. The judgment of others matters less, although I tell myself and mostly believe that judgment never mattered much in the first place. I'm less combative about their judgment lately. Let them do what they want. I'm doing ok. So yesterday I felt pretty good, out of nowhere, and didn't feel like I should be working or cleaning while I read upstairs.

The next couple weeks set up well. I'll pay for my students' inability to schedule observations early but I'll benefit with an easy two weeks. I don't teach for sixteen days. Tomorrow I'll stay home. I'll start the sabbatical application. I'll do laundry. Maybe I'll hook Netflix up to the television and watch a movie. My breathing is improving. I'm not on a manic high. I'm so unaccustomed to feeling together that when I do my mind reacts as if something is out of the ordinary and in turn in need of repair. The challenge is to create a state when this calm is habitual. I'm getting there.

Ok, basketballs are flying everywhere. I'm shutting down the laptop. More later.

10:25AM

I'm sitting at a cafeteria table designated as a “peanut-free zone”. The nearest tables are fifteen feet away. I wonder if the kids with peanut allergies look across the divide and wish they could sit with the other kids. I wonder if motion alarms activate if someone carrying peanuts gets too close.

We lost the first game 27 to 19, I think, but we were within shooting distance until the last few minutes. T manages to collect fouls quickly, like I do, I guess. H needs to keep his hands straight up and his feet on the ground. He's better every game. I sat in the far corner of enemy fandom territory. I assume the other parents find me antisocial but I hope they don't think I'm unfriendly. Wanting to sit off by myself and maintaining a friendly demeanor are not mutually exclusive concepts. I can't worry about it. I'll say hi when I pass.

M, N, and S are visiting Discovery World. That should work well, good planning on M's part, as N and S will want to stay much longer than T. He starts in with the “Can we go?” script within forty-five minutes of our arrival. After the next game T and I have three free hours. We might hit an outlet mall fifteen miles back east. We visited Cambridge briefly but besides a coffee shop T would dislike there wasn't much in town. I could use new clothes and Tristan is at the middle school age where a shot at a couple new shirts is worth a ride. I'm not eating McDonalds, though. I'm at least making him upgrade to Subway and hopefully conning him into a local place.

During the game I decided Ms. Woolf wasn't getting the undivided attention she deserved so I switched to Bryson's Thunderbolt Kid. I also watched the game.

I'm in the mood for good coffee but I'll stave off that desire until the next game ends. Today's been passable. The drive south and west from Port was great, T listened to his mp3 player and I thought through the silence. Ninety minutes in the car passed like a ride to work. The skies are bright and the air cold.

2:12PM

I'm sitting on the floor now. All the tables are filled with pre-teens and their parents. No sweat. I can plug in the laptop and save my charge. Across the room T is playing chess. His team starts their final game in forty-five minutes. The best part of losing prodigiously in tournament games comes with the early departure time. I hope they win this game because 1) a win would keep them from last place and 2) whether we win or lose we go home at four.

T scored, by the way, a sweet right handed half-layup from the middle of the key. His team looked strong early but faded and ended with a serious ass-kicking. We hustled out at the buzzer and drove to the Johnson Creek outlet mall. I don't like today's air; the car gets overtly warm while the temps outside hover just below freezing. I'll live. T picked out two cheap (around five bucks) shirts at the Gap, while I got one shirt at the Gap and a tight pullover at Columbia. We ate lunch at a crowded Subway. T wanted to get back early to hang out with his friends. And here we are. A dad and his son are sitting a few feet from me and I think the dad is weirded out by my floor-presence. I didn't ask him to sit near me. I was here first.

We should be home by five-thirty. I need a shower and I should shave as well. My stubble shows gray. I told T he was responsible.