An Error of Magnitude

I operate on the principle of “More”: Faster. Stronger. Smarter. Better. Just….more. Always more. Take more classes. Work more jobs. Volunteer more time. It’s like someone hooked Dory on speed and told her to just keep swimming. GANGWAYYYYYY!! I don’t know where I’m going but by god I am going to gogogogo!

I think the truth is that I’m afraid of what will happen if I stop.

The Top Six. Thanks, BPD…

I’ve had this blog for a little under two years, and I’m going to brush off my own shoulderpad and take a look and what has been racking up the hits.

Honestly, I could use a boost: I thought of at least four face-raging topics before deciding that I didn’t need to go off on certain behaviors of my esteemed colleagues in this endeavor (i.e. Life) or, even better, go off on myself. Unless someone wants me to go batsh*t keyboard-smash on some universal atrocity– just say the word! (Hint: the word is “Go.”)

The Zone is a Lie; My Brain on Running

I’m not one of those blissed-out runners who flies over the pavement like someone spiked their nutrition gel with particularly excellent ecstasy.

Nor shall I ever be.

Fear keeps my feet turning over for miles down the road. I’m completely terrified. (And lo! Another indication that I am not entirely normal. Go figure.)

Tri-ing to Survive (A Focal Shift)

So, I’m outing myself.

Rather, I’m shifting the lens of the blog a little. As I transitioned out of a stagnant and wistful time of my life and I rejoined the human race again, the inspiration for blog posts here waned. I’m pleased to be back on track, but I’m not pleased that I’ve let this blog wither, and the Muse does not descend just because I want her to, the wretched bitch.

After a time of careful deliberation, I’ve decided to “change lenses” (as they might say in an obsessively methodical English class) while maintaining essentially the same topic: how the hell to survive when things are going Just Great. 

I’m stalling…

Returning to the Site of Our Failures

This Christmas season, like the Christmas before, I returned to the town of my greatest happiness and crappiest failures. Granted, I ended on a low note, so it’s fair to say that the visits are distinctly masochistic (with a couple exceptions– notably visiting my cycling friend, my scholar friend, and my Not Normal friend. I add this addendum because at least one of them reads this blog at least some of the time. It’s not painful in the slightest to see all of you lovelies.)

However, there is something to be said for returning to the places where you felt the most pain, grief, and regret, to feeling those awful emotions again at their greatest potency. It’s a very solid reminder: Never Again. Never Fucking Again.