I promise you I am not dead, just merely tied up by all these damn engagements (work, school, germs, taxes, boyfriend, derby, derby, derby, and so forth). Recently, I find myself thinking aloud...
Showing posts with label roller derby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label roller derby. Show all posts
1/31/13
soliloquy
soliloquy: an act of speaking one's thoughts aloud when by oneself or regardless of any hearers, esp. by a character in a play
I promise you I am not dead, just merely tied up by all these damn engagements (work, school, germs, taxes, boyfriend, derby, derby, derby, and so forth). Recently, I find myself thinking aloud...
I promise you I am not dead, just merely tied up by all these damn engagements (work, school, germs, taxes, boyfriend, derby, derby, derby, and so forth). Recently, I find myself thinking aloud...
10/4/12
pray
pray: to address a solemn request of thanks to a deity or other object of worship
My Uncle Danny told me recently that, "Some day there will be a time in your life that you will bow your head to pray." Danny isn't a particularly religious man, but he does feel that no matter what your faith may be, there will come a time that you ask something greater than you for help. I am skeptical of this-- mainly because there have been a lot situations in my life that one might see worthy of prayer, and yet prayer never helped, so eventually I gave up. Asking an invisible friend or pandering to a dogmatic belief in nothing isn't going to help your crapy situation, and well, seems kind of selfish.
Thinking this way has made me a little pessimistic. Well, let's be honest, a lot pessimistic. What I often forget though is that prayer without a deity comes in a very different form...prayer without a deity is ACTION. You make the choice to do something, to give someone a second chance, to fix a broken situation, to perceive things differently, to react in an ameliorable way. You have control, well maybe not always, but you have some shred of control over your actions and perceptions.
So with this is mind, I have been thinking a lot lately about if I were to pray, what would I pray about, when would I pray for it? So, wanna know the only situation that I could think of so far? You're going to laugh. It was during the drive from Boise to Idaho Falls for a roller derby game, our car left late and there was a good chance that if we didn't make it in time we couldn't skate. Speeding along the freeway, I was thinking to myself, "okay if I were going to pray, I'd do it now. Good Lord/Controller of Whatever, please help us make it to the bout on time, oh please, oh please help us." When if fact, it was Highway's led foot that got us there on time. Phew!
Crazy, huh? True, but I'd rather practice prayer through action. In the future, I vow to better see the choices I have in sticky situations, I vow to take positive action when/where I can, and above all, I vow to let go of the things that I cannot control and instead change my attitude.
My Uncle Danny told me recently that, "Some day there will be a time in your life that you will bow your head to pray." Danny isn't a particularly religious man, but he does feel that no matter what your faith may be, there will come a time that you ask something greater than you for help. I am skeptical of this-- mainly because there have been a lot situations in my life that one might see worthy of prayer, and yet prayer never helped, so eventually I gave up. Asking an invisible friend or pandering to a dogmatic belief in nothing isn't going to help your crapy situation, and well, seems kind of selfish.
Thinking this way has made me a little pessimistic. Well, let's be honest, a lot pessimistic. What I often forget though is that prayer without a deity comes in a very different form...prayer without a deity is ACTION. You make the choice to do something, to give someone a second chance, to fix a broken situation, to perceive things differently, to react in an ameliorable way. You have control, well maybe not always, but you have some shred of control over your actions and perceptions.
So with this is mind, I have been thinking a lot lately about if I were to pray, what would I pray about, when would I pray for it? So, wanna know the only situation that I could think of so far? You're going to laugh. It was during the drive from Boise to Idaho Falls for a roller derby game, our car left late and there was a good chance that if we didn't make it in time we couldn't skate. Speeding along the freeway, I was thinking to myself, "okay if I were going to pray, I'd do it now. Good Lord/Controller of Whatever, please help us make it to the bout on time, oh please, oh please help us." When if fact, it was Highway's led foot that got us there on time. Phew!
Crazy, huh? True, but I'd rather practice prayer through action. In the future, I vow to better see the choices I have in sticky situations, I vow to take positive action when/where I can, and above all, I vow to let go of the things that I cannot control and instead change my attitude.
7/20/12
let's just say...
Pomeranians are the cutest little fluff balls ever! Dee from Roller Doll Skates came to Boise a few months ago and brought her pompom. The entire time, I berated her, "how much is your dog? Is your dog for sale? Would you stop selling me skate gear if I stole your dog? OMG! Look at how adorable your dog is. Dooooogggie!" Poor Dee. Actually, poor anybody who has to put up with me when I see a cute animal. I extend my deepest empathy.
4/28/12
revelation
revelation: a surprising and previously unknown fact; the making known of a secret or the unknown
I had a strange revelation tonight. Well, less of a revelation, and more of a final clear understanding. Which is almost satirical considering it was explained to me, no unveiled rather, by a heavily intoxicated individual. We were on our way home from Quinn's, a local bar in Boise that hosts our "post bout functions" for roller derby (a.k.a. after parties). It was 2 am and I had successfully gotten my roommate, Highway, into the car without tripping or puking. The streets were dark, except for the occasional ominous red glow of a stop light, or the flicker of a passing porch. The night air was rushing in through the windows, chilling my cheeks. I was quite, Highway was sleepy, but chatting up a storm. In her slurred speech, she started to talk about how our next bout is on mother's day weekend and how she was bad at mother's day. "How do you mean?" I asked. "Well I hate Mother's day, because I grew up with thousands of mother figures who all feel worthy of a card or a gift or a gesture." Now remember, Highway, similar to me, was abandoned by a parent at a young age. In the brief moment of silence that followed her explanation, everything clicked. The light in my head had turned green and I empathized, "yeah, as a kid who has been abandoned at a young age, you have to grow up quickly and as a byproduct adopt this mantra that the only person that cares or matters in your life is you...even if the other people in your life don't feel the same way." Highway nodded her tipsy head and replied, "It's a cold cold coping mechanism, but it sure as hell works, look at us, we're fucking amazing." True.
Considering our lives, statistically we should have had a child at a young age, been addicted to some sort of substance, had an eating disorder, a gambling problem, or a number of other debilitating troubles by now. But no, when you do things for yourself and by yourself, when you are your own world, you can accomplish a lot...like putting yourself through law school, like being the youngest historical records archivist in the inter-mountain west, like kicking ass at skating derby, like overall generally being amazing, beautiful, strong, confident, courageous, and intelligent women. I'm proud of who I am and know that I owe a large part of this to, well, myself. Living life like this way is effective. Individualism is fantastic means by which to protect yourself from disappointment and all the other shit life tries to through at you. It makes you resilient. But it wasn't until tonight that I realized that individualism and resilience aren't always valued by other people, nor understood by them. I have struggled to explain this to my mother, for example. Through words, I couldn't ever tell her fully why I don't need/want any "help" or why I can seem "coldhearted" sometimes. And surely, my "selfishness" and "intensity" have been an ongoing battle in every relationship I have ever had. But now I get it, I understand why they don't understand.
So now the question is, do I change? Uh. Will I ever value codependency? Or, do I simply need to come, prepackaged, with an asterisk explaining who I am and why I am the way I am. Ha! Like a tag with wash and wear instructions. Best invention ever.
I had a strange revelation tonight. Well, less of a revelation, and more of a final clear understanding. Which is almost satirical considering it was explained to me, no unveiled rather, by a heavily intoxicated individual. We were on our way home from Quinn's, a local bar in Boise that hosts our "post bout functions" for roller derby (a.k.a. after parties). It was 2 am and I had successfully gotten my roommate, Highway, into the car without tripping or puking. The streets were dark, except for the occasional ominous red glow of a stop light, or the flicker of a passing porch. The night air was rushing in through the windows, chilling my cheeks. I was quite, Highway was sleepy, but chatting up a storm. In her slurred speech, she started to talk about how our next bout is on mother's day weekend and how she was bad at mother's day. "How do you mean?" I asked. "Well I hate Mother's day, because I grew up with thousands of mother figures who all feel worthy of a card or a gift or a gesture." Now remember, Highway, similar to me, was abandoned by a parent at a young age. In the brief moment of silence that followed her explanation, everything clicked. The light in my head had turned green and I empathized, "yeah, as a kid who has been abandoned at a young age, you have to grow up quickly and as a byproduct adopt this mantra that the only person that cares or matters in your life is you...even if the other people in your life don't feel the same way." Highway nodded her tipsy head and replied, "It's a cold cold coping mechanism, but it sure as hell works, look at us, we're fucking amazing." True.
Considering our lives, statistically we should have had a child at a young age, been addicted to some sort of substance, had an eating disorder, a gambling problem, or a number of other debilitating troubles by now. But no, when you do things for yourself and by yourself, when you are your own world, you can accomplish a lot...like putting yourself through law school, like being the youngest historical records archivist in the inter-mountain west, like kicking ass at skating derby, like overall generally being amazing, beautiful, strong, confident, courageous, and intelligent women. I'm proud of who I am and know that I owe a large part of this to, well, myself. Living life like this way is effective. Individualism is fantastic means by which to protect yourself from disappointment and all the other shit life tries to through at you. It makes you resilient. But it wasn't until tonight that I realized that individualism and resilience aren't always valued by other people, nor understood by them. I have struggled to explain this to my mother, for example. Through words, I couldn't ever tell her fully why I don't need/want any "help" or why I can seem "coldhearted" sometimes. And surely, my "selfishness" and "intensity" have been an ongoing battle in every relationship I have ever had. But now I get it, I understand why they don't understand.
So now the question is, do I change? Uh. Will I ever value codependency? Or, do I simply need to come, prepackaged, with an asterisk explaining who I am and why I am the way I am. Ha! Like a tag with wash and wear instructions. Best invention ever.
4/25/12
no use crying over spilled milk
no use crying over spilled milk: an English idiom meaning that dwelling on or being upset over past events is not productive
This is a silly idiom, like most idioms. One that seems most silly considering the following post that I have been wanting to write for awhile now.
--
There is crying in derby. Lots of crying. There isn't supposed to be, but there sure fucking is. As a derby girl, you hear this idiom a lot. You hear it while getting ready for a hitting drill, while huddled up after a shit-show jam, while in the locker room coddling an injury, while quelling your nerves before you face that first relentless whistle. But don't let this phrase fool you. Those words can be said over and over, repeated like a mantra, but they still won't change the fact that there is crying in derby. In fact, some of my most beloved derby moments involve crying, and I'm not talking about one small tear, I'm talking about breaking down and flailing around on the floor like a listless fish.
The second time I cried in derby was after I broke my ankle during yet another scrimmage. But these tears were not of pain. In fact, they weren't even shed when the break occurred. After I got hit into a concrete wall, my ankle dangling there, I knew I had broken it, but I didn't feel pain, I didn't cry. Instead, I convinced myself it was nothing, I was resilient, superwoman even. No no, the tears didn't come until I was in the ER room the next morning and the doctor told me I would be off skates for at least four months. Nooooo! Fuck you, not four months, I would surely parish. I cried in front of the x-ray technician, cred like a small child who just lost her desert privilege. Worse, I cried like a grieving widow in anticipation for the guilt and depression that was building, only to crash like a giant tsunami. How would I ever survive without skating for four months? In that moment, all I could do was cry, anticipating the darkness.
Over the course of my healing ankle break, my tears of loss turned into tears of anger and frustration. These tears sometimes return at the silliest of times. I recall one crappy practice, when my ankle would not behave for the life of me. No matter what I wanted to be able to do, my ankle was not ready, nor willing, and then is when I cried for the third time in derby. I am still not completely heeled, so it is frustrating to desire a certain level of skating, to set standards for myself, but be limited by a crap-ass injury. After practice ended that night, I had come off the track, sat down on the bench and stewed in my emotions. Two of my teammates made a light-hearted joke, trying to converse with me. I chuckled once and then started crying, angry. "Don't cry, why are you crying?" My fucking ankle! "Oh. We understand. Cry all you want sister, but it will get better."
The fourth time I cried in derby was out of hysterics. The kind of tears that come when you laugh so hard your stomach hurts and you almost pee your pants. Actually, this has happened more than once, and I am sure it will continue to happen. Once was during a black and white scrimmage, I was jamming. Sometimes when I jam, I get into these particularly sneaky and evil moods, were my strategy turns shady and I get a crooked look on my face, a look that can easily burst into maniacal and tear-educing laughter. So, there I was, I had just broken through the pack, awarded the title of lead jammer. The other jammer was hot on my heels and I knew that if she were fed back into the pack or if the pack would simply slow down, I could get one or two points and call the jam off. So, what did I do, I yelled to the opposing team, "hold, Black! hold, slow down!" And sure enough, it worked! I came off the track, clam and collected. Then the other team's bench coach pointed out what had happened, and I damn near broke my face giggling, I was laughing and crying so hard, I fell backwards and my skate hit my ass. Karma is a bitch, but at least I got two more points than the other jammer.
These are just a few of my own tears. Ask any derby girl, she'll confirm that there is crying in derby, that she too has shed tear after tear. There are tears of joy, of sorrow, of anger, of triumph, of depression, of love, of damn near anything. Crying is one element that makes derby so real, so powerful. Without crying there wouldn't be tens of thousands of passionate women (and men?) out there, rolling around on eight wheels, kicking ass and taking names. Fuck idioms. There is crying in derby. Fuck tons of it.
4/20/12
on my mind...
Earlier this week I was headed down Fort Street, past the VA hospital campus on my way to work, when I noticed an odd sign at the entrance to the Elk rehab facility and VA outpatient care. It was a large sign, a giant boulder actually. Etched in stone it read, "The Price of Freedom Can Be Seen Here." So here's a question, what idiot didn't think this through? To me the underpinning message says, "look over here at all or poor, broken, decrepit veterans. We have to fight wars and ruin all these peoples' lives and then give them shitty retirement and medical/mental health care in order to be free. Aren't you proud to be an American?" Bad choice in wording, I must point out.
Also, why is it that most contact sports are male dominated? Hi, my name is Monique, I am a woman, I play a semi-professional full-contact sport. I am not a delicate and rare bird, stop staring, and don't look so surprised when I tell you off for the following...I made my way out to Ice World to but a pair of waxed hockey laces for my derby skates at their pro shop. When I got there, I went up to the counter and asked for a pair of yellows, and inquired about the difference between the red and white laces (they keep the laces behind the front desk). The attendant (a male) answered me by saying, "well, what size skate does he wear?" Oh no you didn't! Snap. I squinted my eyes, raised one brow and told him, "first of all, they're for me and my derby skates, second of all, just when did hockey become a sport that only men play, and why the fuck would I be buying my man hockey laces? He can buy his own damn hockey laces. and who the fuck are you to answer my question with another question." Grrrr. I am woman, hear me roar. Funny thing is though, at men's practice the following Monday, I told Luke this story and he didn't sympathize because he feels that the same thing happens to him as a men's derby player. It's a twisted world people, don't assume anything.
Also, why is it that most contact sports are male dominated? Hi, my name is Monique, I am a woman, I play a semi-professional full-contact sport. I am not a delicate and rare bird, stop staring, and don't look so surprised when I tell you off for the following...I made my way out to Ice World to but a pair of waxed hockey laces for my derby skates at their pro shop. When I got there, I went up to the counter and asked for a pair of yellows, and inquired about the difference between the red and white laces (they keep the laces behind the front desk). The attendant (a male) answered me by saying, "well, what size skate does he wear?" Oh no you didn't! Snap. I squinted my eyes, raised one brow and told him, "first of all, they're for me and my derby skates, second of all, just when did hockey become a sport that only men play, and why the fuck would I be buying my man hockey laces? He can buy his own damn hockey laces. and who the fuck are you to answer my question with another question." Grrrr. I am woman, hear me roar. Funny thing is though, at men's practice the following Monday, I told Luke this story and he didn't sympathize because he feels that the same thing happens to him as a men's derby player. It's a twisted world people, don't assume anything.
2/23/12
gale
gale: a strong current of air; a wind from 32-63 mph; an outburst of emotion
without courage
hurry
hurry
horrible
hurricane
rips right through me
my soul torn
like the sharp shards of the broken green grass
like the last strand of dignity dangling
threads from a tattered dish rag, used, past due
waved in violent winds
wet hands, soiled
wiped on a kitchen apron, frilly chills
your warning, I could not hear
over the greying grumble of my insanity, your instability
muted all possibilities
loomed into doomed darkness, depression
I drift away, spinning into middle Midwest tornadoes,
realizing that this is the last poem I'll ever write about you
hope you're happy
--
So last night I had a nightmare where I was moving into an apartment that was attached to an ex's house and I had to get through the house to get out or into my apartment, but I couldn't find the exit and in the meantime my ex traversed about with a myriad of other women. I hate you, stupid relationships and all the stupid baggage you leave behind.
So, then I woke up in a sweat and was wide awake for the rest of the night. To make good use of my time I listened to some Frightened Rabbit and wrote some poems. I hate you insomnia.
--
topsy turvy
I see sets of 8 circles rolling round and round,
across cold concrete sky,
my cheek is pressed, frozen to the piercing atmosphere
a hit and a miss,
telecasted hipcheck highlighted
hung-over, like a rag-doll, someone flaps upward, toward the flat track,
her fishnet rips, cross-hatched black seeps open to reveal bruised yellow-purple polka dots
edged by pink flesh,
the wind whips my face, steam from a pack of sharks rolling invisible circles around fresh meat,
the florescent lit floor sparkles, polished bare,
a bald man's head in black and white stripes
light flickers through wheel hubs of neon green and bright blue,
my head throbs, my ribs ache,
tweet tweet tweet tweet!
one deep, stabbing breath and I've muster the courage to turn the entire world upside down,
everything rotating, slowly
back onto my toe stops, two steps
and the jammer line beckons my return
welcome to the world of roller derby
without courage
hurry
hurry
horrible
hurricane
rips right through me
my soul torn
like the sharp shards of the broken green grass
like the last strand of dignity dangling
threads from a tattered dish rag, used, past due
waved in violent winds
wet hands, soiled
wiped on a kitchen apron, frilly chills
your warning, I could not hear
over the greying grumble of my insanity, your instability
muted all possibilities
loomed into doomed darkness, depression
I drift away, spinning into middle Midwest tornadoes,
realizing that this is the last poem I'll ever write about you
hope you're happy
--
So last night I had a nightmare where I was moving into an apartment that was attached to an ex's house and I had to get through the house to get out or into my apartment, but I couldn't find the exit and in the meantime my ex traversed about with a myriad of other women. I hate you, stupid relationships and all the stupid baggage you leave behind.
So, then I woke up in a sweat and was wide awake for the rest of the night. To make good use of my time I listened to some Frightened Rabbit and wrote some poems. I hate you insomnia.
--
topsy turvy
I see sets of 8 circles rolling round and round,
across cold concrete sky,
my cheek is pressed, frozen to the piercing atmosphere
a hit and a miss,
telecasted hipcheck highlighted
hung-over, like a rag-doll, someone flaps upward, toward the flat track,
her fishnet rips, cross-hatched black seeps open to reveal bruised yellow-purple polka dots
edged by pink flesh,
the wind whips my face, steam from a pack of sharks rolling invisible circles around fresh meat,
the florescent lit floor sparkles, polished bare,
a bald man's head in black and white stripes
light flickers through wheel hubs of neon green and bright blue,
my head throbs, my ribs ache,
tweet tweet tweet tweet!
one deep, stabbing breath and I've muster the courage to turn the entire world upside down,
everything rotating, slowly
back onto my toe stops, two steps
and the jammer line beckons my return
welcome to the world of roller derby
2/19/12
transfiguration
transfiguration: a complete change of form or appearance into a more beautiful or spiritual state. If you're religious, Christ's appearance to three of his disciples (Matthew 17:2, Mark 9:2–3, Luke 9:28-36)
Gawd! I don't mean to compare myself to Christ. In no way, actually, do I ever want to be compared to a spiritual body. Please, keep all your strange religious menageries, I want no part of them.
Instead I have doggies and derby love, and they are both a huge part of my most recent metamorphosis. Things have changed, at the very least, transitioned. For the first time in all my 22 years, I am having to do more than rationalize by external logic why I am doing what I am doing. Let me begin, well I already have begun, but anyway, let me proclaim, rather, that playing derby is the first real thing I have chosen to do because it makes sense to me and only me. No higher power, no societal standards, no emotional forces. Just me and my own logic.
So, as I wrote about earlier, I broke my ankle and without derby I realized that I was doing everything else in my life for no "real" reason. I'm not talking about the "real" reasons you imagine. Instead, I'm talk about genuine motivation that comes from the self and nothing else. It's not because you have to get a college education, it's not because you have to pay your rent, it's not because it's your responsibility as a friend, a girlfriend, a sister, a daughter, a "high-functioning" adult. It's because, well heck, you don't even have to say the reason. No need to justify it to anybody else except yourself. So, I changed and even cut all the things out of my life that I felt compelled to rationalize and explain to others.
I got a new job, I ended a broken, no not just broken but rancid, relationship; I moved; I stopped sleeping, sleep never made sense to me anyway. The last stronghold, though, is school. For 18 years I have gotten straight A's and plugged through school because I had to, that's just what you're supposed to do, right? Now that I am in a graduate program, this logic is broken. I love my job and my career field and getting my masters is certainly a goal of mine, but why? Why is a it a goal? Not what will it allow me to do in the future...but why is it important to me, and why is it important to me now? I haven't discovered an answer to this pickle just quite yet.
I do know that I'll never have a mind-numbingly boring job again. I do know that I'll never drive around the block not wanting to go inside my own home again. I do know that I'll never stay in a relationship again just because it makes me feel "normal" or even worse "needed." Fuck being normal, fuck living by other people's standards. Trying to live by other people's standards is not genuine, it's cowardice. Live by your own standards, value shit because YOU value it. Own your life and how you live it.
So anyways, doggies and derby love...throughout this time of transition, I have been met with open and supporting arms from my derby family and their doggies! Never could I have imagined that by being hospitable and welcoming me into their homes, hearts, and letting me bond with their children, furry or not, could my derby family have inspired such internal motivation, such genuine change and strides towards authenticity. Thank you Highway and all the phenomenal women I skate with on TVR, you have no idea how you and how derby has effected me, no, better yet, how you have encouraged and fostered personal change.
Gawd! I don't mean to compare myself to Christ. In no way, actually, do I ever want to be compared to a spiritual body. Please, keep all your strange religious menageries, I want no part of them.
Instead I have doggies and derby love, and they are both a huge part of my most recent metamorphosis. Things have changed, at the very least, transitioned. For the first time in all my 22 years, I am having to do more than rationalize by external logic why I am doing what I am doing. Let me begin, well I already have begun, but anyway, let me proclaim, rather, that playing derby is the first real thing I have chosen to do because it makes sense to me and only me. No higher power, no societal standards, no emotional forces. Just me and my own logic.
So, as I wrote about earlier, I broke my ankle and without derby I realized that I was doing everything else in my life for no "real" reason. I'm not talking about the "real" reasons you imagine. Instead, I'm talk about genuine motivation that comes from the self and nothing else. It's not because you have to get a college education, it's not because you have to pay your rent, it's not because it's your responsibility as a friend, a girlfriend, a sister, a daughter, a "high-functioning" adult. It's because, well heck, you don't even have to say the reason. No need to justify it to anybody else except yourself. So, I changed and even cut all the things out of my life that I felt compelled to rationalize and explain to others.
I got a new job, I ended a broken, no not just broken but rancid, relationship; I moved; I stopped sleeping, sleep never made sense to me anyway. The last stronghold, though, is school. For 18 years I have gotten straight A's and plugged through school because I had to, that's just what you're supposed to do, right? Now that I am in a graduate program, this logic is broken. I love my job and my career field and getting my masters is certainly a goal of mine, but why? Why is a it a goal? Not what will it allow me to do in the future...but why is it important to me, and why is it important to me now? I haven't discovered an answer to this pickle just quite yet.
I do know that I'll never have a mind-numbingly boring job again. I do know that I'll never drive around the block not wanting to go inside my own home again. I do know that I'll never stay in a relationship again just because it makes me feel "normal" or even worse "needed." Fuck being normal, fuck living by other people's standards. Trying to live by other people's standards is not genuine, it's cowardice. Live by your own standards, value shit because YOU value it. Own your life and how you live it.
So anyways, doggies and derby love...throughout this time of transition, I have been met with open and supporting arms from my derby family and their doggies! Never could I have imagined that by being hospitable and welcoming me into their homes, hearts, and letting me bond with their children, furry or not, could my derby family have inspired such internal motivation, such genuine change and strides towards authenticity. Thank you Highway and all the phenomenal women I skate with on TVR, you have no idea how you and how derby has effected me, no, better yet, how you have encouraged and fostered personal change.
1/18/12
reincarnation
reincarnation: the rebirth of a soul in a new body, a person or animal in whom a particular soul is believed to have been reborn
I'm not sold on reincarnation, but boy is it a beautiful idea. Today is my grandmother's birthday. She would have been 83. Every year she told us the same thing, "one day, I will come back as a bird and sit near your window and sing a song for you." What a wonderful way to be reborn. I bet she's a blue bird or a small chickadee, fluttering through the sky. In her memory, we dined at Olive Garden tonight and went to the Humane Society to look at the furry animals. I nearly took this heeler home with me...
Grief is such a weird thing, it comes in the strangest waves. I would give anything to have another conversation with my grandmother, thank her for practically raising me, tell her what an amazing woman she is.
Hmm. If I were to ever be reincarnated, I'd like to come back as something fast, something that feels the very real and tangible break down of life, none of this dying slowly stuff. Roller skate wheels! I'd like to come back as roller skate wheels. Used, abused, and love to no end by derby girls everywhere, the perfect body to be reborn into. Speaking of roller skates, I tried mine on and rolled around the house tonight!! I wasn't supposed to, I'm still broken, stupid ankle. Shh, don't tell my doctor. It was invigorating, I can't wait to get back on the track and knock a bitch out :)
I'm not sold on reincarnation, but boy is it a beautiful idea. Today is my grandmother's birthday. She would have been 83. Every year she told us the same thing, "one day, I will come back as a bird and sit near your window and sing a song for you." What a wonderful way to be reborn. I bet she's a blue bird or a small chickadee, fluttering through the sky. In her memory, we dined at Olive Garden tonight and went to the Humane Society to look at the furry animals. I nearly took this heeler home with me...
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| Belle, if we didn't already have two doggies, she'd be mine. Visit the Boise Humane Society to Adopt her today! |
Hmm. If I were to ever be reincarnated, I'd like to come back as something fast, something that feels the very real and tangible break down of life, none of this dying slowly stuff. Roller skate wheels! I'd like to come back as roller skate wheels. Used, abused, and love to no end by derby girls everywhere, the perfect body to be reborn into. Speaking of roller skates, I tried mine on and rolled around the house tonight!! I wasn't supposed to, I'm still broken, stupid ankle. Shh, don't tell my doctor. It was invigorating, I can't wait to get back on the track and knock a bitch out :)
12/7/11
et voila
et voila: French for 'there you have it," "there it is"
I am famous! Ha. Hardly. You can, however, find my face on the Treasure Valley Roller Girls website. That's almost like be a celebrity, right? Same difference.
http://treasurevalleyrollergirls.net/treasure_valley_roller_girls.html
Also! Did you see Roller Derby's own Suzy Hotrod in the 2011 ESPN Body Issue. Hers was the best picture by one million miles.
I am famous! Ha. Hardly. You can, however, find my face on the Treasure Valley Roller Girls website. That's almost like be a celebrity, right? Same difference.
http://treasurevalleyrollergirls.net/treasure_valley_roller_girls.html
Also! Did you see Roller Derby's own Suzy Hotrod in the 2011 ESPN Body Issue. Hers was the best picture by one million miles.
10/17/11
on my mind...
stop this hate, I just want to roller skate. I don't want to see another shrink, just hang out at the roller rink. xoxox.
10/9/11
bout
bout: what roller derby matches/games are called; period of intense activity of a specified kind
First HOME bout with TVR today! Beyond excited. It's a "pink and green bout," meaning it's the last season inter-league bout. Feels like Christmas/I need to puke because of all the anticipation. You can get tickets from me ($10) or from one of our sponsors.
update: pictures!
First HOME bout with TVR today! Beyond excited. It's a "pink and green bout," meaning it's the last season inter-league bout. Feels like Christmas/I need to puke because of all the anticipation. You can get tickets from me ($10) or from one of our sponsors.
update: pictures!
10/3/11
cock-knocker
cocknocker: I don't really know the definition 100%, but people say it all the time as an insult in Canada. You cocknocker! It's just good clean, err, good fun to say
This past weekend we drove two stretches over 8 hours each to get to Edmonton, Alberta in Canada. Why you ask...well to strap on our skates and roll around in circle, maybe get a few bruises and cracked ribs of course. We lost our bout, but it sure was a blast. I was inside my own head the whole bout, still getting used to the wheels I bought in September. At one point on the trip we had stopped at Canada's version of Costco for snacks, etc. As I was walking out of the store, I turned to look back and saw Rampage trying to exit the entrance, then she got wildly distracted by a large display of canned maple beans, "Oh my gosh beans! I need these." She shoveled 4 or 5 cans into her arms, stuffed one down her shirt and ran back into the store to pay. Ha! And to think this lovely lady is perhaps one of the jammers I respect most and even want to emulate. Damn, she's got skill, but is bat shit crazy, cracks me up. The rest of the weekend is freckled, no, filled to the brim with stories like this.
P.s. never have I seen Highway that intoxicated before. On the drive up, there was construction traffic at 1am! and what did Highway do? She got out and peed in the middle of the road, not the side, but the middle, then waved to the semi truck driver in front of us. And to think, they made fun of me for talking about quail while I was sleeping in the backseat!! Who's crazy now. Well, I guess we are all. It's a prerequisite in derby, you have to be fucked up and broken even before you can skate.
This past weekend we drove two stretches over 8 hours each to get to Edmonton, Alberta in Canada. Why you ask...well to strap on our skates and roll around in circle, maybe get a few bruises and cracked ribs of course. We lost our bout, but it sure was a blast. I was inside my own head the whole bout, still getting used to the wheels I bought in September. At one point on the trip we had stopped at Canada's version of Costco for snacks, etc. As I was walking out of the store, I turned to look back and saw Rampage trying to exit the entrance, then she got wildly distracted by a large display of canned maple beans, "Oh my gosh beans! I need these." She shoveled 4 or 5 cans into her arms, stuffed one down her shirt and ran back into the store to pay. Ha! And to think this lovely lady is perhaps one of the jammers I respect most and even want to emulate. Damn, she's got skill, but is bat shit crazy, cracks me up. The rest of the weekend is freckled, no, filled to the brim with stories like this.
P.s. never have I seen Highway that intoxicated before. On the drive up, there was construction traffic at 1am! and what did Highway do? She got out and peed in the middle of the road, not the side, but the middle, then waved to the semi truck driver in front of us. And to think, they made fun of me for talking about quail while I was sleeping in the backseat!! Who's crazy now. Well, I guess we are all. It's a prerequisite in derby, you have to be fucked up and broken even before you can skate.
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| Right after we ate (most delicious GF buttered noodles I have ever had) in Missoula, MT |
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| Like a boss! Probably the only thing I did right that whole bout |
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| Fine art in the powder room at the Calgary Motel 6 |
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| Thanks Oil City! |
8/8/11
draft
draft: to draw or pull, to take by selection
Collapsed on the cold concrete floor, in front of the open warehouse door and big box fan, I panted in slow motion. Ah-huh. Ah-huh. Clear, round stars buzzed around my eyes. A blurry outline of Rae floated above me. Or maybe it was a Muppet or an alien. She tapped my helmet and said, "4:09." That's nice. I didn't comprehend what was said until Barbie, not the plastic kind, handed me my water and I took a sip. 20 laps in 4 minutes and 9 seconds AND IN 90 degree heat! I am proud to say that, not only did I pass my draft laps, I also shaved ten seconds of my total time.
This was just the beginning. The following weekend I passed my rules/skills test and endured a brutal league scrimmage. I've skated every day for the past three months and have yet to miss a single league practice; hard work surprisingly pays off. Ha! so cliche. But oh...so...true. In all honesty, I have never felt more welcome and supported than the moment I was invited to join the Treasure Valley Roller Girls as a league skater this past Sunday. I have and will continue to learn fantastical things from all the women and refs that I skate with. No words can describe the feeling of euphoria and accomplishment that has overcome me.
The only thing I can do is lace up skates and relish the moment.
p.s. please help me figure out a skate name
here are my ideas...
Molten Molly
Malicious Mabel
Lemon Harangue Pie
Reese S. Smash'Emtopieces
Who Clair S.
Gorange Sickle
Nancy Hurl (for all you librarians out there)
Ruby Not So Slow Ho (for any Rancid fans)
my family and close friends are driving me mad. they keep suggesting names that other skaters already have (http://www.twoevils.org/rollergirls/). As great as June CartHer Smash is, SOMEONE already has that name.
update: after input on facebook and a suggestion/heated debate with a fellow skater, I have chosen to call myself "Lemon Harangue Die" #3.14
neeeerdy, just the way I like it
thanks Barreta!
xoxox
-Lemon
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| that's me in the camo |
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| this was taken by the talented and beautiful Rooster |
Collapsed on the cold concrete floor, in front of the open warehouse door and big box fan, I panted in slow motion. Ah-huh. Ah-huh. Clear, round stars buzzed around my eyes. A blurry outline of Rae floated above me. Or maybe it was a Muppet or an alien. She tapped my helmet and said, "4:09." That's nice. I didn't comprehend what was said until Barbie, not the plastic kind, handed me my water and I took a sip. 20 laps in 4 minutes and 9 seconds AND IN 90 degree heat! I am proud to say that, not only did I pass my draft laps, I also shaved ten seconds of my total time.
This was just the beginning. The following weekend I passed my rules/skills test and endured a brutal league scrimmage. I've skated every day for the past three months and have yet to miss a single league practice; hard work surprisingly pays off. Ha! so cliche. But oh...so...true. In all honesty, I have never felt more welcome and supported than the moment I was invited to join the Treasure Valley Roller Girls as a league skater this past Sunday. I have and will continue to learn fantastical things from all the women and refs that I skate with. No words can describe the feeling of euphoria and accomplishment that has overcome me.
The only thing I can do is lace up skates and relish the moment.
p.s. please help me figure out a skate name
here are my ideas...
Molten Molly
Malicious Mabel
Lemon Harangue Pie
Reese S. Smash'Emtopieces
Who Clair S.
Gorange Sickle
Nancy Hurl (for all you librarians out there)
Ruby Not So Slow Ho (for any Rancid fans)
my family and close friends are driving me mad. they keep suggesting names that other skaters already have (http://www.twoevils.org/rollergirls/). As great as June CartHer Smash is, SOMEONE already has that name.
update: after input on facebook and a suggestion/heated debate with a fellow skater, I have chosen to call myself "Lemon Harangue Die" #3.14
neeeerdy, just the way I like it
thanks Barreta!
xoxox
-Lemon
7/10/11
on my mind...
past week = stressful, life = stressful, being me = stressful...I'm often the root of my own problem.
Anyway.
roller derby = not stressful...I went to practice this morning and Cody asked me, "so are you excited to draft?" AM I?! am I? Oh ho ho, yes, yes I am. At this rate, my goal is to be bouting with TVR in September :) big giant toothy grin.
I'm not sure I have the words to describe it. Roller derby is so much more than just a hobby or a sport. It's a way of life (I swear I didn't join a cult, pinkie promise). It renews you in ways you never knew you needed rejuvenation. Take for example Tim. She's a league skater with TVR in her early thirties who recently had a stroke (not more than two weeks ago, cross my heart) and what is she doing now? Skating. Fucking SKATING! Two weeks ago her entire left side of her body was paralyzed and now she's back on skates, spinning circles to the left! Crrrrrazy. Derby is a magical, powerful thing that will make you teeth show and your heart melt. (My apologies, I got a little gushy there at the end, but it was justified, I'll play this game until I have to amputate a leg).
p.s. here's a documentary about Rose City, where I skated before. My favorite part is the scene in Voo-Doo where the rule of roller derby are explained using doughnuts <3
http://www.hulu.com/watch/256440/brutal-beauty-tales-of-the-rose-city-rollers
Anyway.
roller derby = not stressful...I went to practice this morning and Cody asked me, "so are you excited to draft?" AM I?! am I? Oh ho ho, yes, yes I am. At this rate, my goal is to be bouting with TVR in September :) big giant toothy grin.
I'm not sure I have the words to describe it. Roller derby is so much more than just a hobby or a sport. It's a way of life (I swear I didn't join a cult, pinkie promise). It renews you in ways you never knew you needed rejuvenation. Take for example Tim. She's a league skater with TVR in her early thirties who recently had a stroke (not more than two weeks ago, cross my heart) and what is she doing now? Skating. Fucking SKATING! Two weeks ago her entire left side of her body was paralyzed and now she's back on skates, spinning circles to the left! Crrrrrazy. Derby is a magical, powerful thing that will make you teeth show and your heart melt. (My apologies, I got a little gushy there at the end, but it was justified, I'll play this game until I have to amputate a leg).
p.s. here's a documentary about Rose City, where I skated before. My favorite part is the scene in Voo-Doo where the rule of roller derby are explained using doughnuts <3
http://www.hulu.com/watch/256440/brutal-beauty-tales-of-the-rose-city-rollers
6/30/11
let's just say...
let’s just say…
it’s time to call the land lord about getting screens on the windows. There are far too many spiders co-living in my house. I killed one with fangs the other night. I would say something like, “bless its tiny heart” or “rest in peace,” but it had fucking fangs for crying out loud.
and
let's just say this is proof of how much I love roller derby and the women who play it: yesterday at work I saw Bar Scar and went up and hugged her. fucking hugged her! and I DON'T hug people.
6/2/11
let's just say...
Let’s just say you never realize you’re out of breath until after those two minutes of jamming.
p.s. I’ve started to dream about derby…a lot actually.
Oh and f.y.i, I started skating Fresh Meat for Treasure Valley Roller Girls. I need not rave about how much roller derby means to me. I’m sure you are sick of hearing about it. But it looks like I will be able to draft in August and hopefully will make the travel team. OooooooH and I can now officially tell you that my skate name is Lemon Harangue Die (#3.14). However I’ve been kicking around Mo’Mayhem for awhile, but I think it’s already been taken. Frown face :(
p.s. I’ve started to dream about derby…a lot actually.
Oh and f.y.i, I started skating Fresh Meat for Treasure Valley Roller Girls. I need not rave about how much roller derby means to me. I’m sure you are sick of hearing about it. But it looks like I will be able to draft in August and hopefully will make the travel team. OooooooH and I can now officially tell you that my skate name is Lemon Harangue Die (#3.14). However I’ve been kicking around Mo’Mayhem for awhile, but I think it’s already been taken. Frown face :(
5/6/11
let's just say...
let's just say, "we're just getting comfortable feeling one another up, and then we'll hit that"...out of context, this would be dirty had I not heard it during roller derby practice. I am going to miss skating with Rose City. but now it's on to TVR!
and
I just picked up 22 pairs of shoes of the floor of my room. Despite being a bit of a neat freak, I have a bad habit of taking my shoes off and not putting them away :P
and
I just picked up 22 pairs of shoes of the floor of my room. Despite being a bit of a neat freak, I have a bad habit of taking my shoes off and not putting them away :P
2/19/11
can of worms
to open a can of worms: to inadvertently create numerous new problems while trying to solve an older one. Experts disagree on the origin of the phrase, but it is generally believed to be a Canadian or American metaphor coined sometime in the 1950s. Bait stores routinely sold cans of worms and other popular live baits to fishermen, who often discovered how easy it was to open a can of worms and how difficult it was to close one. Once the worms discovered an opportunity to escape, it became nearly impossible to keep them contained. Sort of like Pandora's Box. (wisegeek.com)
Feels as if I have three or four cans of worms open right now. Bull grunt. Wish I knew how to close them.
My scars are itchy and scabbed over in large part from trying to close all these cans of worms!
Practice was brutal this week. We did a lot of hitting drills and pace lines. I had a glorious hip-check, knocked a girl right off the track onto her butt! He he. Seriously, those two hours are the only hours in which I can immerse myself and think of nothing else. It's nice...more than nice actually.
Thursday night was icky. Exhaustion was all I could feel, but Nick called and we went and got some doughnuts at Sesame. I'm a fan of any place open 24-hours...especially when it has the world's greatest chocolate-glazed doughnut holes, 15 for less than $1.75
Earlier last week, I bought Jeff Ely (my computer science professor) doughnuts from Sesame as a thank you for the innumerable letters of recommendation he has written for me. We shared a wonderful moment, eating doughnuts with a fellow connoisseur.
As for now, I've got a lot of work to do. Namely, I need to get ready to present my paper/thesis at both the Gender Symposium and a Comm conference. I'm also scrambling to start my full-time practicum at Roosevelt High School on Tuesday. I've already been working with students there, preparing for a Mock Trial Competition, but I'm excited to spend more time in the classroom with them.
so here's to those can of worms closing on their own. fingers crossed.
Feels as if I have three or four cans of worms open right now. Bull grunt. Wish I knew how to close them.
My scars are itchy and scabbed over in large part from trying to close all these cans of worms!
Practice was brutal this week. We did a lot of hitting drills and pace lines. I had a glorious hip-check, knocked a girl right off the track onto her butt! He he. Seriously, those two hours are the only hours in which I can immerse myself and think of nothing else. It's nice...more than nice actually.
Thursday night was icky. Exhaustion was all I could feel, but Nick called and we went and got some doughnuts at Sesame. I'm a fan of any place open 24-hours...especially when it has the world's greatest chocolate-glazed doughnut holes, 15 for less than $1.75
 |
| not my mini van, I promise. |
Earlier last week, I bought Jeff Ely (my computer science professor) doughnuts from Sesame as a thank you for the innumerable letters of recommendation he has written for me. We shared a wonderful moment, eating doughnuts with a fellow connoisseur.
 |
| the Sid's Special on top |
so here's to those can of worms closing on their own. fingers crossed.
2/9/11
to step on another's toes
to step on another's toes: to offend or insult someone, as if causing physical pain.
I'm supposed to be NSOing at Wednesday night's scrimmage right now, but meh. I have a headache. So I'm being lame and hibernating in my cave. I've decided to blog...you, know, to look right at a bright computer screen that's just making my headache ten-fold worse. How smart, I am. Anyhow, today in step aerobics we cooled down to this song:
I'm a fan. I also adore adore adore her dress.
so answer me this, anyone and everyone, "who do you think you are?" Have you ever considered the damage you've done to others? The hearts broken, the toes trampled on, the spirits crushed.
I remember, it must have been my junior year of high school, coming into chemistry ready to work on my lab and vent pent up cynicism to my wonderful and dear friend Desiree. Instead, I was met with "fuck you." I had no idea why she was pissed at me, but "fuck" and "you" were the only two words she would say to me. And, trust me, you need a bigger vocabulary in order to do any sort of scientific work. I was completely, entirely, utterly oblivious. What had I done? Why was she mad, and mad at me alone? Needless to say, we did not pass that lab. Had I been more conscious of the ways in which I effect others, we would have passed that damn lab. Just something to think about.
I'm supposed to be NSOing at Wednesday night's scrimmage right now, but meh. I have a headache. So I'm being lame and hibernating in my cave. I've decided to blog...you, know, to look right at a bright computer screen that's just making my headache ten-fold worse. How smart, I am. Anyhow, today in step aerobics we cooled down to this song:
I'm a fan. I also adore adore adore her dress.
so answer me this, anyone and everyone, "who do you think you are?" Have you ever considered the damage you've done to others? The hearts broken, the toes trampled on, the spirits crushed.
I remember, it must have been my junior year of high school, coming into chemistry ready to work on my lab and vent pent up cynicism to my wonderful and dear friend Desiree. Instead, I was met with "fuck you." I had no idea why she was pissed at me, but "fuck" and "you" were the only two words she would say to me. And, trust me, you need a bigger vocabulary in order to do any sort of scientific work. I was completely, entirely, utterly oblivious. What had I done? Why was she mad, and mad at me alone? Needless to say, we did not pass that lab. Had I been more conscious of the ways in which I effect others, we would have passed that damn lab. Just something to think about.
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