This is my first year really watching the Olympics since the 1996 Atlanta, Georgia, USA Olympics when the following was my reality:

- I lived with Break Boy, His Lovely Wife, and two of our friends
- I was taking French, Chinese, Spanish, and German during my 4.0 GPA semester of college
- I was ALWAYS doing homework and ALWAYS stressed out
- I was working a very stressful-to-me job as a computer geek who talked to people on the phone (I hate the phone, with a fiery passion)
- I smoked clove cigarettes at random intervals to bring my stress level back down
- I almost burned the apartment down by cooking baked Tostitos in the toaster oven
- Some guy let off a backpack full of bombs in a crowd of people at the Olympic town square

What does this have to do with the Olympics? Aside from that last item, nothing. You know me, I’m random.

My favorite sport to watch that year was women’s gymnastics. I was soooooooooooooo excited to watch the girls perform in every event. I was terrified for but extremely proud of Kerri Strug for doing her final vault on a completely destroyed ankle, allowing us to win the gold:

(That video footage always makes me cry.) If I had to choose a defining moment of my US patriotism it’d be that.

But last night, as I watched the Olympics from the green recliner, I realized I was impatient about the women’s gymnastics performance. I wanted everyone to hurry up and “get it over with”. I lacked confidence in the team. Lacked interest. Lacked pride. As soon as I saw Alicia Sacramone fall off the balance beam I stood up, turned my back to the TV, and went to bed. I knew then that whatever happened was not going to be like the magic that happened in 1996, and I didn’t care to see more foibles. I was done rooting for Team USA. That makes me feel bad, like I’ve lost some sort of innocence I once used to possess. Maybe I’m just old and jaded now. :smiles: