I got to hit up the Kent State Ice Arena for the second time yesterday afternoon, my second bout with public skate. As I made my laps around the rink—with little to no assistance from the wall—the unruly kids seemed much less distracting, and the casually skilled demeanor of the cool old dude gliding across the ice seemed much less unobtainable. In fact, I finally started to feel cool on those skates. Being granted the ability to skate on ice that was of actual quality after a few more rounds downtown definitely helped.

What’s most awakening to me is that it totally cleared my mind. I was focused, and it wasn’t on something stupid and awful that I let my mind wander towards because I was bored. I fell four times, and one of those times was because I got too into the cheesy soundtrack (Baby Shark not included this time, thankfully enough) and lost balance while instinctively, as if infected by a virus of performative irony, started miming out the lyrics to “Timber” by our savior Mister Worldwide. Face down (point at the ground), booty up (point at the ceiling), that’s the way we like to what (cross arms and shrug), and then it truly was slicker than an oil spill. They cut off the song immediately after I fell, presumably because there were many children in the room. But I’m going to think it was my fault. It was strangely beautiful.

I came to the conclusion before the end of the hour and a half that I needed a pair of my own, because wearing a size three on one foot and a size four on the other because of your wide feet and stopping to dust off your blades every ten minutes because they don’t feel quite sharp enough is not ideal. (Honestly, one return to the downtown rink after my first arena gig made me highly identify with my professional-skater-for-ten-years friend’s choice of the word “butterknives.”) I am now a purist! For something other than music! (Well, not really.) But more importantly, I’ve found a way to actually, successfully stop letting my overactive switchboard brain get hung up on stupid crap: making a big circle.

Good thing there’s more to learn than just making a big circle.