Queering the Triathlete (and Other Discomforts)

A Melancholy Zebra determined to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.


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The Least Snarky Moment of My Life

In homage to the flower photo and retreat-theme of the last post, I’d like to share the moment when I burst into tears over an ant.

An ant.

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Lessons from the Psych Ward

Tonight, I want to share something I wrote maybe a year ago. It’s an excerpt from an expository piece I wrote on my time in a South Carolina psych ward. I don’t expect any trigger warnings in here, but if you’ve been committed before, take some care.

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Meddling with Metta

First, let me acknowledge the cheesiness of the alliteration in this particular title. Second, I’ve stared at this post screen for a good half an hour so far trying to figure out what I can offer that is both sarcastic and mindful.

I’m not there today. I’m feeling neither sarcastic nor mindful, though L begged me to return to a sitting (or even walking practice) earlier today, even for just ten minutes if that’s all I can manage. Well, technically speaking, I am carrying out a sitting practice, one that lasts for at least 8 hours a day… sitting on my ass at my desk working and trying to piece things together. (There– I managed a bit of snark. You’re welcome.)

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