Adding to the Hype

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Twenty Thirty years ago, I was eight years old. I remember watching the replaying of the wedding of Prince Charles to Lady Diana Spencer (and yes, Mom, you should have had a clue about… shall we say, “certain things”… back then). It was a prince marrying his princess. Of course I was watching it. I didn’t so much take note when the boys were born aside from “she had babies,” because, well, I didn’t really pay much attention to pregnancy and babies. The divorce was painful for me, because I was a child of divorce, and I knew what kind of hell the boys were going to go through.

At 24, Diana was killed in France, and it felt like a punch in the gut. This amazing, beautiful woman was taken from the world far too early. All of the good things in which she was involved, not to mention the world itself, would be that much poorer without her strength, grace, and love. And I mourned her. The images that stuck with me most, though, were watching William and Harry during the funeral. That was almost as bad as the reason I was seeing those images.

Today, William married Catherine in a beautiful ceremony in Westminster Abbey. The groom was handsome, the bride was stunning, and the best man and maid of honor did their siblings proud.

There has been a lot of wedding-hype hate on the Internet. A lot of people will roll their eyes that I’m even writing this. You know what? I don’t care. This is a big deal. In the United States, we don’t have royalty. That’s written into the very bedrock of this country. The closest we have are movie and television stars, athletes, and politicians, and all of them are flash-in-the-pan. True royalty is centuries old. Technically, Canada is still covered by the British Monarchy, but I’m not Canadian.

This is a world event, and honestly, I’d rather have the coverage of this than needing to have the coverage of a land war in Asia. This doesn’t affect me personally, but, as Jackson said on my Facebook, “I always enjoy seeing two young people who are really in love go through something that wonderful. There’s enough crap and hate and ugliness going on in the world. It’s nice to see some beauty (and I don’t just mean Kate).”

The new royal couple is stunning. They’re going to make amazingly beautiful babies together, provided they get the genetics from her side of the family and his mother’s side of the family. My hope for the couple is a long life of love, happiness, and laughter, every day. Even at the altar, William was making Kate smile and laugh, and I hope that they can keep that joy every minute of their lives together.

A dear friend once told me that the promise is not, “I love you,” but rather, “I will love you.” It’s not just the love right now that matters; it’s the love that you will continue to have that matters most.

To Their Royal Highnesses (who, no doubt, are waiting for me to finish this so they can read it because I’m just that important), much love and much hope for you both. May there be many, many years ahead of you.


Don’t say gay!

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And whatever you do, think of the childrunz!

The puritanical bigots in the Tennessee Senate have a bill before them right now banning the words “gay” and “homosexual” from being spoken between kindergarten and eighth grade in Tennessee schools. Banning words is always a good idea, right? Because if you ignore something, it doesn’t exist? Out of sight, out of mind? Yeah, I’ll wait until you’re all done pissing yourselves in laughter over that.

The bill’s author, Senator Stacey Campfield (who probably showers in his underwear in a public shower, lest anyone know he has a peener), says that the bill is let families decide when it’s okay to talk about the spreading taint of homerseckshooality. Yeah, I know.

I’ve seen a lot about this on the Internet (or, well, honestly, on Facebook) the last week or so. The most overwhelming response, not surprisingly, is shock and outrage, which I share. The next biggest response is, “Why are we teaching sexuality in school at all? It should be about things that come out of books! Math, language skills, science! If it’s not book-learnin’, it shouldn’t be in the schools anyway!”

Uh, really? REALLY?? That’s where you’re going with this? Let’s take a closer look at that, shall we?

That argument is completely invalid unless schools are going to stop mandating physical education classes. I learned NOT ONE THING in PE classes in the 13 years I was in school. Oh, wait, that’s a lie. I learned about favoritism and I learned that dodgeball fucking sucks. There are no books for PE classes; leave that shit at home where it belongs. And before you go off about the arts, let me point out the incredible amount of paper that is printed for songbooks and musical scores and art history books beginning at a very low grade level.

My first sex education class was at West Elementary School. I was in fifth grade, which would have made me about ten, I believe. Long before that, two of my teachers (Miss Christopherson and .. oh crap, I forgot his name — Carolyn would know) had gotten married. Before that, at least three teachers had been pregnant. All of this is in school, people, and I knew about WHILE I was in school, actively learning, all under the age of TEN. To say that schools are not the right place to teach this kind of thing is unrealistic and, in my opinion, mean and hateful.

Sure, I could have come to my mom and dad about it, but they weren’t there when I wanted to know about it. The pregnant teachers and the dating teachers and the sex ed teacher were; it was their place to answer those questions.

Yes, I think all parents should be talking to their children about these things so that teachers don’t have to do it. It’s a wonderful theory, but in the end, that’s all it is: a theory. And why is that? Because parents lie to their children.

Young Girl: And then Mommy kissed Daddy, and the angel told the stork, and the stork flew down from heaven, and left a diamond under a leaf, in the cabbage patch, and the diamond turned into a baby!
Pugsley: Our parents are having a baby too.
Wednesday: They had sex.
~ Addams Family Values

They tell these kinds of lies. “Oh, the dog went to live with another family on a farm in the country.” “Oh, look what Santa/The Easter Bunny brought!” “The stork brought a new baby! We just had to go pick it up!”

Of those three lies, it’s the middle one that is the least harmful. It keeps magic alive in the world and gives people a sense of wonder. Not teaching your children about the beginnings and endings of life? That’s just harmful. If a child is old enough to ask the questions, don’t you think you should be mature enough to answer? Please, before you tell your children lies, don’t you think you should figure out if you’re protecting them or protecting yourself?


Disaster strikes!

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After two crappy days of rain here in the Costa Rican rainforest Columbus, we had a clear day. So I went out on my training run/walk. It started out okay. I was feeling good, and I was moving well. Then, about two-thirds of the way through it, my right calf cramped up but good. It felt like someone stuck a fork in the muscle and twisted it like they were picking up some spaghetti. I stopped, walked around a little, stretched a little, and tried to start back up. Yeah, that’s not gonna work. So I limped my fat ass home, about a 10-minute walk.

Do I know what caused it? Yeah, I do. Something that everyone warned me about, but I was too stubborn and/or stupid to pay attention to. I didn’t stretch. Yes, I know. Stop. You too, Angela. I can hear you from all the way over there.

You can bet your ass that on Tuesday when I do this again between classes, I’ll stretch first.

And for now? Ow. Shower time, followed by some Sombra, probably (which, if you’ve never used it, you need to get for your “Hi, I’m old!” aches and pains. Smells better than your normal sports creams and is nicely tingly). Then I Am Legend. Then maybe some video games. Or homework. Probably homework. *sigh* It’s a never-ending battle.


Fighting for air

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I’m kind of a perfectionist. I know, you’re shocked. And I know that I’m just getting started in this. I want to go running, but I have homework that’s due by midnight, and I’m already so very uninspired by it that I’m taking time out to blog instead of doing my Office Integration work. And really, it’s only six things, but they’re… they’re crap I already know how to do. And this class is only two more weeks, but in those two weeks, I’ve got the six for today, the 14 due next Monday, and then the Final due on May 3. Plus the work for all of my other classes. I’m feeling INCREDIBLY over-worked right now, and I feel like I’m just getting further and further behind.

I’m pushing myself way too hard; I know this, but it’s not going to stop me. My GPA is going to drop this quarter because I’m so overloaded that I don’t even know what questions to ask when I need help.


Day One: The Aftermath

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I feel fucking awesome. I slept fantastically last night. I got out of bed more easily than normal. I have a crapload of energy.

Now if I could figure out how to balance my diet, I’d be better. We have a lot of crap at home because it makes quick lunch snacks (and it tastes mighty tasty). I know it’s not good for us, but I don’t know what to do about it.

I’m kind of looking forward to my jiggly bouncing down the street tomorrow.


Bounce. Bouncebounce. Flop. Flail.

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Last night, I made a decision. I’d been mulling it over for a week or so, but last night I asked for help, and then, after reading the advice, I decided to do something about it. Anyone who knows me knows that when I make a decision, I usually make it very quickly and once I make it, I have to — HAVE TO — start it nearly immediately. If I don’t, I either get cranky because I can’t do it or haven’t done it or I get apathetic and don’t do it.

I’ve decided to do the Couch to 5K Training Plan. And, having made that decision, I did my first training session tonight. Just got back in about five minutes ago, as a matter of fact.

I’m of two minds about it right now. On the one hand, I want to (and do!) thank every one of you who encouraged me to do this. I know that in nine weeks (19, if I do the Couch to 8K training offered by one of my new podcasts, I will be slimmer by a minimum of 20 pounds (if I don’t heifer down everything in sight after every session), I will feel incredible both physically and about myself, and I will be able to run for three miles in a row and look damn good doing it.

On the other hand, I want to shake each and every one of you who didn’t warn me that my first training session would SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. Oh my freakin’ GODS, I hurt. Oddly, my biggest hurt is my right hip. My left is fine. My shins hurt, my right calf is already tightening up, my knees are screaming and my elbows are twingey. I thought I was gonna DIE on my last running interval. I think my next session will be with my VFFs, even though I think I have the wrong ones for urban running (and HSJosh was TOTALLY right about the attitude that one gets when one wears them; I feel vastly superior to everyone when I’m wearing them), just to see what kind of difference I get.

Tomorrow between classes, I’m going to go down to the locker room at school and weigh myself. I want to keep track of that. I’ll keep the weigh-ins and progress here, too. I’ll probably also create a spreadsheet with a line chart (shut up; I’m an admin, and I’m DAMN good at it. Let me do what I’m good at) and I’ll put that up on here periodically as well.

I really wish we had access to a high school track. Yeah, the constant circles would get boring and that’s a bad thing, but it would help me know how far I’m going instead of just how long I’m going. Right now, my goal is to get to the end of the nine weeks. Then I’ll add the goal of the next 10 weeks for the Gateway to 8K, followed by another 10-week session of Freeway to 10K. Ugh. YarnJosh is going to mock me for getting into this; he’ll be nice about it, but he’ll still mock, because he leaves knitting early every week to go run, and now, I’m gonna want to go, too, even though I know I won’t be up to his level for quite a while.

Someone last night told me that when I start to look forward to the running, that’s when I know how I’ve caught the crazy. Because of the rush of endorphins, I can feel that. We’ll see how I feel about it tomorrow. And now, I’m off for a quick shower to de-sweat and a long bath to soak it all away.

Weigh-In: 2XX pounds XX ounces (no, those aren’t Roman numerals; they’re placeholders. Smartasses. Yes, I heard you thinking that, Teddy.)