When I started this blog, nearly one year ago I called it spo(R)ting life for a reason. I didn't want to be limited to blogging just about sports -- or, more specifically, I didn't want to be blogging about just cycling or just triathlon. I am like any human soul. I am fickle, and periodically my passions change. And I would like to believe there is a little variety and depth to my psyche.
Confused? Think I'm on drugs?
Geez, Kim, I don't mean to point out the obvious or anything but the word SPORTING is in your blog title.
I know, I know. But the idea is that when it serves my purposes you are supposed to remove the bracketed R from the title and then it becomes SPOT--ing life... get it.. get it??? And yes I know it is spelled wrong but if you saw how much yellow appears on this page when I finally get around to spell checking the damn thing you will come to accept the fact that I am perfectly OK with this misspelling.
So you will also note that there was a huge gap in missing posts for about 3 months in the life of this blog. Well that was when I could have been blogging but it would have made you cringe to read. Same with the recent month of June. Two posts. Again, what I could have been writing about, would have made you cringe. And my last 5 posts have been about cycling and triathlon because these are safe topics. I mean, I've dropped hints about my state of mind here and there but you blinked while reading, I guarantee you would have missed it.
Sometimes when I write things, I assume you are reading my mind.
I don't write a blog entry daily. I couldn't. I write one and it pretty much wrecks me for a day as I obsess over every word and the message I've sent and the response I'll get. So I've wanted to delve into more intense topics but I am terrified they will go down paths that produce huge amounts of third party embarrassment for you, my faithful reader. And I have to admit that I am a little trigger happy when it comes to what I write. I have one friend who blogs who is very good at letting what she is writing sit and ferment for days-weeks-months before she posts and releases them. I am not so patient. When I am immersed in a topic I'm trying to get it out of me like it is a virus I need to be rid of. I am a stream of consciousness writer. I begin a post with one fragment of an idea and it often festers and multiplies in all different unplanned directions. And then when I edit it after (and censor it) I start to see the pattern of what I am really thinking. I do much of my blog-fermenting inside my head before I even begin to type. I think my friend works differently. I think she types and ferments at the same time.
Two different distillers and two good beers.
So, with that in mind, I will now reveal a series of fragments of ideas I've had of late that I COULD write about but won't because they will just end up in really BAD PLACES.
The good breakup. I've told a mini story to a few of my close friend recently about the best dumping I have ever been through (and trust me, there have been many). The irony of this good breakup was that it happened at a time of my life when I was too inexperienced to be able to handle ANY breakup let alone a good one. And don't get me wrong, just because I say NOW that it was good, does not mean that my teenage heart wasn't any less shattered than it would have been in any other breakup. But I didn't know that at the time because, at the time, it was the most despicable breakup that any girl could have experienced. See, the guy broke up with me over the phone and I thought this was the most horrid and cowardly thing that one could do when breaking up with someone. Keep in mind this was the 80s and there was no email and no text messaging options and who knows how this breakup would have gone down if those two options had been available. But what made this breakup good was that it was direct and it was honest and it was quick.
And, of course, the inevitable path of this topic is that it begs that you need to talk about the bad breakups.
The high road. You know what I mean by this right? This one is so dangerous a topic that I can't even talk in a generalized fashion about why I was taking the high road. Except to say that I did it proudly and bravely. And the view is pretty good from up here.
Evolutionary Psychology. A very close colleague of mine teaches this course. He spends a lot of time talking about relationships as part of the core content and as he is researching his class material he frequently pulls research studies and shares them with me for my entertainment and his amusement, that show things like how lap dancers make the most tips during the ovulatory period of their menstrual cycle. (Ooh I just wrote the word menstrual in this blog -- twice). And how being on the birth control pill can change your pheromone scent which might not turn out well for your relationship if your mate doesn't like your natural smell. Or about the Red Queen Effect, which I have experienced before, which supposedly draws one, via scent and pheromones, to a mate that is most likely to produce a very strong offspring and propagate the likelihood of the survival of the human species. Or the many many tables he has shown me to provide solid evidence that the odds of me finding a mate are lower than average because I am too smart and I make too much money.
I could solidly refute that last part of that last sentence (money). I can't refute the former part (smarts). I refuse to pretend I'm not smart.
Rebound Relationships. I've been in many as both the rebounder and the reboundee... And for the reason why I can't write about these kind of relationships I refer you back to my discussion on the good breakup.
Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it. Performance anxiety: I could tell stories about showing off on the diving board and doing a belly flop instead, or about screwing up a skill while my nursing teachers were watching, and you would smile and say: That's nice, I went through that too. But all the examples I could give would simply be euphemisms for the big gigantic performance anxiety of life. In 99% of life circumstances I am the most calm and collected and confident person I know. I stand up in front of lecture halls with 90 students in front of me -- sometimes on camera -- I can write entire novels and they are clever and cool and smart (well, after a few drafts and lots of fermenting).
But in 1% of situations I feel like I am about to explode and it makes me obnoxious and I try too damn hard and I say stupid things and I might act "bizarrely". It is like self-sabotage. A negative compensatory cycle -- the act of compensating to the point that you make things worse. You're body does this too, when you are in severe cardiovascular shock. But I can't write about my need to prove myself now or about why or about what I need to prove myself at. It would be very very uncool to do that and it would require me to leave my nice view from up here on the high road. All I can say is that, I don't mean to act like a weirdo sometimes. Hopefully you haven't noticed. But my anxiety level in this particular situation is 13/10 and "people" are watching who want me to fail. So for now, I'll just work on being me.
Weight loss. I've lost 7 pounds purely from wishful thinking. I could tell you how?
Between the lines. I write tons of shite between the lines in all those white (grey?) spaces that look blank. Yes, yes, I do. Everything is connected. We are all connected. And that is how she festers in unplanned directions.