Queering the Triathlete (and Other Discomforts)

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


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It’s My Suffering, and I’ll Cry If I Want To

It’s been a while. Again.

But I had someone kindly request that I write on self-pity. (A request!! So exciting! My first one! Unless we count J suggesting I write a blog in the first place. But a specific request!!)

It’s not even a difficult topic: I pity myself. POOR ME. I SHOULD DIE IN A GUTTER BECAUSE MY LIFE IS SO TRAGIC AND I’M SO AWFUL. But really. I’ve already picked out the gutter.  Continue reading


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Ageism: It’s Not Just For the Aged!

Let me say first in my infinite wisdom gathered over many, many years of observation that I know exactly what I am talking about, and you don’t. Also, I hate everybody who thinks I’m too old. I’m just as spry as I was decades ago! Continue reading


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Metta Practice as a Borderline

Many different sorts of meditation retreats are available to the sadistic folks who want to spend several days alone with their own mind: vipassana, jhana, zen… the list goes on, and some are more specific than others.

For example, I attended a retreat this week focused especially on cultivating metta. Translation: Love Everything.

Well, it was 99.99% successful! Continue reading


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“My Life Sucks Worse Than Yours”

My favorite-song-of-the-month starts like this: “My God is better than yours/ And the walls in my house are so thick/ I hear nothing at all.”

I’ve noticed that trend in the world, but I’ve noticed another disturbing trend:

“My suffering is worse than yours.” 

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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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