Wednesday Reflections #7

I feel like the past week has been nothing but a blur. I am apologizing in advance for the lack of links.

Today marks the completion of the first week of Lent. I gave up meat (but not fish and shellfish), and I have been successful thus far. I am pretty proud of my accomplishment. I hope that when I have blood drawn in a few weeks I will find that my blood sugar and cholesterol are within acceptable parameters as a result. Just in case, I plan to start eating a whole lotta oatmeal in the meantime. Good thing I've devised ways to make it more palatable.

Last Wednesday was the first week of trivia without our pal Carl-Os. We did alright for ourselves, coming in second place. I think we need to draft some more people for our team though. Not everyone can make the weekly commitment, and we are hoping to win for the season. Winning feels good. It's a feeling I'm not accustomed to. I should have played more team sports as a kid . . .

Thursday was Valentine's Day, which was cold and rainy, but very nice. I went to my writing group and j^C went to rugby practice, but we reconvened afterward for chocolate covered strawberries and snuggles. It was nice.

Here we see Uranium J in her swell V-Day dress.

Friday was long. I got up early and made my way to Foxy Loxy in Savannah for a marathon lesson planning session with my new Deep partner. We critiqued, we planned, we were very cold. I enjoyed a cup of Mexican Mocha, which if you have never tried it, you should. It's pretty awesome. I also learned that you can have Horchata hot and/or with a shot of espresso. What?!?! Guess what I'll be trying tomorrow night?

Toward the end of the planning session, my new partner mentioned that our workshop was canceled this week. That is when I realized that sorting incoming emails into folders was a lousy idea. I hadn't gotten the memo. No matter, we are now a week ahead of schedule, and I like to be ahead of the game. It makes me feel competent.

At 2 we walked across the street to the Bull Street Library to attend an exclusive Deep Fellows Only lecture by Must Love Dogs author, Clair Cook. It was fun and informative, but I guess I felt like I was back in school because I took 5 or 6 pages of notes. What can I say? She was a fount of knowledge.
After that, I made my way back to Richmond Hill for dinner with the family at La Napolera. Veggie fajitas = De-lish. Also, Horchata. Yes, I think it is a proper noun. And what? Following dinner, the three of us went home where I proceeded to kill time before the FRG Ladies' Night at Midnight Star Pottery. I thought I had it all timed perfectly - I would leave the lecture, grab some dinner with j^C and That Sprout, and the head to the Ladies' Night. Perfect! Except I was off on the time by about an hour. Lame.

I finally made it to the pottery shop and while I would love to tell you that it was a fun night of fellowship, I mostly just felt awkward. There were many reasons for this, not the least of which being the fact that all their spouses had just deployed and mine didn't. I also think, upon further reflection that maybe volunteering with Deep has lulled me into a false sense that I am competent in social situations.

When I am around Deep Fellows, we all have writing in common. While we are all vastly different peopl with a wide range of interests and tastes, we all just kind of tend to get along. If nothing else, we are sharing the experience of teaching a bunch of middle schoolers how to be great writers. It binds us.

Now, you would think that military wife-dom would have the same effect, and maybe for most people it does. For me though, even when I'm trying to assimilate I come away from the situation feeling very much like a square peg. I'm willing to admit that a lot of these feelings could be in my head or problems I'm creating for myself. I don't know. I know I don't like it, and it makes me sad. I've accepted the fact that j^C ain't quitting the Army any time soon, so I have adopted the "If you can't beat em', join em'!" attitude. I just wish I didn't feel so different. Everyone wants a tribe, and in this one, I'm left feeling like Wiglaf - an interloper.

Saturday was spent at home with That Sprout while j^C went to play rugby in the freezing rain. We snuggled and read books while he toiled in the mud. I made the right decision, I feel. I felt particularly accomplished in my lounging as I finally read John Fowles' The Collector from cover to cover. Ho. Lee. Shit. Go read it. Now. Just go. It was incredible. Seriously.

After that, I began reading a book about the alleged Black Dahlia killer, who may have also been The Zodiac Killer and a host of other serial killers who remained at large. I've yet to really get into it though. Hopefully, I'll finish it by this time next week - I have a lot of reading I'd like to get done in short order. Also, I would like to drop this book in the care package for Carl-Os, as it's right up his ally.

About that care package . . . I am sorry to say that it remains unsent. It's on the "To Do" list for the coming week. I so desperately want to fill it with some retail therapy, but you can't bleed a turnip. That means I'm going to have to get creative about it.

I don't really remember Sunday . . . I think we spent the day in bed.

On Monday, That Sprout went to daycare and j^C and I went to lunch, the mall, and to the discount bookstore. Since all of the books were under $2, I had a little shopping spree at the bookstore, which is why I need to get to reading. The "To Read" pile is getting a little too tall. After we picked That Sprout up from daycare, we took her to play at McDonald's where she had a massive fecal incident. I have begun to suspect that she's become lactose intolerant, so that's fun!

Yesterday was long and frenzied. I fueled myself with very strong French Press coffee and set to work cleaning and undercutting my house. I am proud to say that I have finally taken down the Christmas tree and most of our Christmas supplies are safely packed away in a box, but that's as my successes go. But! I hope that this is only the beginning and by the time my birthday rolls around I will have made a significant dent in the problem. It would be nice to live in a clean and uncluttered house. I haven't had that since I lived in the dorms at college. Wouldn't it be wonderful? Yes it would.

There are two other successes I would like to announce for this week:

• I set connected my broken laptop to the new monitor I received for Christmas. Now I can work on the blog, writing, and school work while standing and That Sprout can't hassle me. Exciting stuff!
• I have lost most of my holiday weight. Another 2 pounds will see me at my pre-Thanksgiving weight. This is awesome. I would like to thank Deep, sectarianism, and strong coffee for this success.

 Chirst and Moses, that was a lot!

I saw a whole bunch of these little guys at the gas station on V-Day.
Here's one.

How has your week been? Do you feel like you've gotten a lot done or have you been impersonating a sloth? Do you ever feel like you are the odd man out? What do you do when that happens? Let me know in the comments!

Waiting

I am tired of waiting.

I feel like I have been sitting in Purgatory for YEARS, and I am done. On the smallish end of things, I'm tired of waiting for TV Mania's album to finally be released. On the larger side, I'm tired of waiting on adulthood to dawn on me. I have many adult things: child, husband, car, college degree, debt, and a therapist. And yet, I have yet to fully feel like an adult. Maybe this is true for everyone. 

Somewhere in between the album releases and adulthood, there's this other thing I'm waiting for. I've waited patiently for quite a while, but it's yet to arrive. I'm sorry to be so cryptic about what it is, but I must keep it secret - keep it safe. But right now, more than anything else, I'm tired of waiting for it. I wish it would come already. Then I could get on with the rest of my life.

I am Gatsby waiting, watching - yearning after the green light at the end of Daisy's dock.

And no, it's not my period. This is all.


Are you waiting on anything at the moment? Do you feel like an adult? Let me know in the comments. I am interested to know if this feeling is universal.

Friday Free For All: Ladies and Gentlemen, Lenny Bruce

I have no idea why this came to me this morning, but I thought about it, and I thought I would share it for all of you who spent last night alone. Take heart - Valentine's Day is only once a year. I still love you, and I promise you won't always be all alone.

How did you spend your V-Day? Do think it's a sham, or do you look forward to next year already? Let me know in the comments!

You Don't Know What It's Like

Salvador Dali - Don Quijote

I want to tell ya'll about toe socks.

It all started in August - maybe September of 2000 with a pair of neon rainbow toe socks when I saw a sad eyed boy across the lunch room and decided that someone who looked that good had no business looking that sad.

I want you know that my love for you is abiding and unconditional. I get so mad at you at times, as I'm sure you do with me, but it's not for stupid and petty reasons. Selfish ones, maybe - but only because your pain is my pain. Your sorrow is my sorrow and your failure cuts me to the core. I can't stand to see you in pain, or to think that somehow something I could have done or said might have prevented some physical or emotional hurt.

I walk each and every day in this life with you not because I want to - though I do want to, and not because I choose to, though I would choose if given a choice. I walk each day in this life with you because I have to - I have no other choice. To divorce myself from the sound of your voice and the thought of your very existence would be the worst kind of slow death I can fathom. I would simply wither and fade from loneliness and despair. You complete me - before I knew you I think I was truly un-whole. You have brought forth the very best of me and you know me better than I know myself.

I am so thankful everyday for every minute we speak and every moment we have shared in what others might perceive as idle foolishness. What they didn't know is that these moments were pivotal in our young lives. We were hard at work pushing one another to our greater selves. We were deep in the act of becoming. We still are. We haven't yet become what it is that we are to be, but I know that me without you and you without me will never see the thing through to the end.

I need you more than I have every needed anyone or anything. You are my soul mate and the truest most selfish/selfless love I have ever known. You are the apple of my eye and the grain in my coffee. You are the knower of my thoughts and the finisher of my sentences. You are the brother I always wanted and should have had. You are the best friend I dreamed of. You knew me even before I knew myself. You have never failed me, forsaken me, forgotten me, or given up on me. You have never purposefully hurt me - a great distinction that few can claim. You are the keeper of memories and moments. Sharer of ice cream and divider of donuts. You are the stuffer of napkins who keeps me accountable for all my stupid schemes and dumb ideas. You are the Ethel to my Lucy. You are my Sancho Panza as I go tilting at windmills once more. You are the Louis de Contes to my Joan of Arc. You are the Stitch to my Lilo. Without you, I am halved. I am diminished.

You are the keeper of the secrets and the only one on earth who knows nearly as much of the truth (and maybe more) than I do myself. I love you dearly - madly. Though we may at any time be parted by land or sea, we are never apart, for I carry you with me in the stories we've built together. You live in my laughter, which I think is a rather nice place to be. Though I do not dwell on it, I dread the day when more than geography takes you from me and in that moment, I can only hope that you are wrong about eternity and that death comes for me in swift order because I can't bear the thought of walking this world without you.

Wednesday Reflections #6 - A Lot of Firsts

A bulleted list might be in order here. No links. No pics. Down and dirty. (You know that's the way you like it!)

This week I . . . 

• Rode an emotional roller coaster of "Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye."
• Ate curry-wurst for the first time (highly recommend).
• Held my first ever Mary Kay facial class (success!!!).
• Went to my first ever Rugby game (and was almost hit in the teeth with a foul ball - lame).
• Went to church.
• Made a new friend at church.
• Wasted A LOT of gas.
• Led my first Deep Workshop of the Spring Semester.
• Had a long pow-wow with Deep Programs Manager about what else I can do for Deep.
• Had a pap smear.
• Had an eye exam.
• Saw Dr. Harris for a med check.
• Got a shot.
• Talked to Dr. P about genetic testing for breast and ovarian cancers (very emotional).
• Also talked to Dr. P about referral to nutritionist.
• Watched video by friend about her weight loss journey, was inspired, and cried.
• FINALLY began reading a fiction book, The Collector by John Fowles.
• Made dinner for the week (Tuna Noodle Cozzerole - YUM!).
• Made oatmeal cookies (FAIL).
• Drank currant wine.
• Watched House of Cards. All of it.
• Made Peanut Butter Protein Balls.
• Sent memo to FRG leader about planning events (and felt very important in doing so).
• Made and stuck to a to-do list and stayed (mostly) on track.
• Celebrated Mardi Gras with 2 donuts, an iced coffee, and a mini cannoli.
• Lit candles and thought good thoughts.
• Tried very hard to practice compassion and loving kindness.
• Was proactive.
• Made Rice Crispy Treats (non-FAIL).
• Began my teacher certification courses.

This week I did not . . . 

• Exercise enough.
• Eat well.
• Gain weight.
• Blog enough.
• Have a nervous breakdown (only little tears).
• Get enough sleep thanks to That Sprout and over-consumption of caffeine. 
• Feel shitty about myself (thank you  Carl-Os, DPMS, and Mojo JoJo).
• Write as much as I would have liked.
• Wallow in longing and resentment.

Needless to say, it has been a busy week.

What did you do this week? Was it busy of slow? How do you make your use of time productive? Are there any items on my bulleted list you want to know more about? Discuss in the comments, dear friends and gentle readers!

Friday Free For All - FPN Link Love

You know, the Nuge is growing on me.
Aaaaand I haven't bothered to make anything better . . .

It's been a hectic week here at the FishForest house. I've got some great things in store for you all in the coming week, but for now I'm really tired and I need a little "me time" before I head to Hinesville this evening. j^C, That Sprout, and I are going to be eating delicious German food and saying goodbye to a favorite FishForest family friend. Goodbyes suck, but at least it's not forever and it's giving us an excuse to hit up Zum Rosenhof. I certainly hope that Saurbraten in on the menu tonight. I bet you guys never thought German food would be the silver lining, huh?

Meanwhile, while I am resting, eating, crying, and saying goodbye - again - you all can click on these fantastic links I found on the interwebs over the last week or so. Good things, I assure you. Happy reading.

Also, if you are at all spiritual, say a prayer or think a kind thought about everyone on Magical Mystery Tours right now, okay? Thanks. :-)

This article is ME. Read it, and you shall know the inner machinations of Uranium J. It's so great, I'm just gonna link the excerpt:

On the other hand, my fear of screwing up is paralyzing. I agonize over the way my words/actions/Facebook status/diet/yoga practice/blog posts/text messages/outfits will be perceived. I am an emotional person, but instead of letting those emotions and feelings guide my actions, I choose to stuff them down and cover them up, never wanting to be perceived as unable to handle myself, or out of control. I want a spreadsheet, a list of rules to follow and a star chart when I do it the “right” way. My desire to be right often cripples my ability to just be and do and love, genuinely.

And yet, as I started to teach the very beginning of a yoga class, I realized there was no “winning” but rather, there was learning, growing and opening. There is no end goal. There is no perfection. There is only participating in the experience in the best way I can: from an open heart, instead of one that’s constantly trying to do it right.

A guest post over at Yes! and Yes! that was friggin' awesome.

A great way to help end hunger. You better believe I'm doin' it, once I'm gainfully employed.

I LOVE THIS BLOG! We are same-same.

A fan-tab-u-lous piece of advice about getting the most out of life.

Some great Valentine's Day gifts on the cheap.

Three words: Travel Snack Kit.

Because I am still on a Michael Collins kick, this is a great metal song about The Big Fellah (although I don't agree with their stance).

For those getting married (and to brag about my beautiful pal X-ine's (e'erbody gets a cute blog name!) wedding) here's a link full of rainbows, baseballs, and LOTS of LOVE!

A great post on my all time favorite blog, about misconceptions of sociopaths. 

"I Love Things!" Thursdays - The One With the Cheapness

Alright ya'll, this is gonna be quick and dirty.

1. The Writing

I don't believe in pencils. Or spiral notebooks. More on that later. Source

I have written more since the beginning of the year than I wrote in all of 2012, maybe even all of 2011 and 2012 combined. I have been very reflective, and as such I have a lot to say, but I've also been so motivated by the people I know in Deep. Being around like minded people has really gotten the creative juices flowing in my little lizard brain. In addition to my Deep people, I've had the opportunity to engage with some really inspiring people lately and nothing makes me want to write more than long and interesting conversations. They exercise my brain. I'm gettin' gains. So thanks to all those people who've been indulging me in conversations about tinfoil spaceships, Milton, Dante, and Jonathan Edwards. I've got a lot to write about, lemme tell you.

2. 2 for $1 Black Eyeliner

But soon, dear children, I'll be upgrading to Mary Kay eyeliner.
Like a boss. Source

This is kind of silly, but I lose eyeliner pencils like some people lose pens. It's nice to know that I can head down to my brand new, local Family Dollar and pick up two for a buck. Also, stationary for a dollar? Yes please. Maybe I'm more excited about the Family Dollar than the eyeliner itself. Because I am so classy.

3. Lizzy Crickets

It's not as insipid as it looks. Source

This is just another jumpy bounce house, but I love it because it's in Hinesville, it's small, and That Sprout will actually  go play in there without me having to follow her around. This I like. I can then take a seat at the parents table and get some writing done. It doesn't hurt that this place is pretty darn cheap. I like cheap. I shop at Family Dollar, remember? The other great thing is the location. I don't like to go to Hinesville if I can help it. The only reason to go is Uncommon Grounds and it seems pretty silly to drive half an hour for a cup of coffee. I mean, it's a great cup of coffee, but still. Now, I can take That Sprout to jump, write for an hour or so, and then hit the coffee shop on the way home. Genius, I know.

4. Michael Collins

I want him for my daguerreotype boyfriend.  Source

I have loved Michael Collins since the ninth grade, but I love so many things, you see, that my passion and fervor for each one tends to wax and wane. Presently my love for Michael Collins is waxing. A great man who did great things for Ireland, Michael Collins was a hero and a martyr. Although he looked very fine in that military uniform up there he was so much more than that. He was a diplomat and a brilliant strategist at guerrilla warfare. That man, dear friends and gentle readers, was able to bring England to her knees and secure a free state for Ireland. Sure, that's what eventually got him killed, what with the IRA wanting a united Ireland and all, but I believe that he did the best he could with what he had to work with. He did more than anyone else had up to that point. Sadly, all his troubles wound eventually cost him his life. There's so much more I could say, but I'm in a hurry. I love Ireland and I love Mick Collins.

5. Nelly - Country Grammar

Sometimes I just need to bask in the glory that is The Dirty South. Today was one of those days. If you don't believe me, listen to "Batter Up". It'll turn your frown upside down. Gay-run-teed.

Wednesday Reflections #5 - Channeling My Inner Black Woman

It's been a weird week.

No, not that kinda weird. That would have been fun. Source

I haven't been sleeping very well and since Saturday have been of a rather strange and melancholy humor. I hope this is nothing more than the after effects of fatigue brought on by the stomach flu. Before diving into the less than stellar aspects of the past week, let's focus on the things that are good and the things I got done.

This week I . .  .

• Helped plan, coordinate, and execute the first meeting of the NEW Deep Fellows Writing Group.
• Helped Team "And They Never Found The Body" to win 3rd Place at Trivia. We're going to make a comeback!
• Wrote A LOT. Like, A WHOLE LOT. It's all just rough draft stuff, but I'm just happy words are going onto paper. 
• Started watching House of Cards on Netflix. While this isn't really an accomplishment, it is a good thing. A very good thing. Just go now. Watch it. Two words: Kevin Spacey. Also: "Peachoid".
• Bought some pretty dresses - for to wear at some undetermined time in the future. 
• Helped haul a couch and a love seat across the street, which means that I now have "New to Me" furniture. Exciting! 
• Re-read Kate Chopin's "The Story of an Hour". So, now I feel all feminist and smart. Sort of.
• Had a conference with the Programs Manager for Deep about the direction and publication options for the New Deep Fellows Writing Group.
• Planned my first Deep Workshop of the semester with my new Co-Teacher "X" who has yet to receive a cute blog name. It's coming, it's coming.
• Made strawberry chocolate chip cookies. They were de-lish.
• Took That Sprout to a jumpy place. She had lots of fun. We need to do this more often.
• Lost a fair amount of weight (because I was sick). But it's staying off for the most part, so that's good.

That's actually a pretty long list. Looking at it, I'm rather impressed, considering the fact that I was certain I would die over the weekend and since my recovery I have been in a mood. I've been listening to a disproportionately large amount of 90s R&B songs since Monday night when I had insomnia. It started out with Tamia's "There's a Stranger in my House", and before long I was down the Diva rabbit hole.

I was YouTubing (because that's a verb now) Brandy's "Almost Doesn't Count" as soon as I woke from my 3 hour nap Tuesday morning, which let to lots of Toni Braxton, En Vogue, Whitney Houston, and eventually Elton John and George Michael who are also divas in their own right. I was waiting for Medea to come out from behind the couch wielding a chainsaw because  I was totally feeling like a mad black woman. Don't worry, I'm not going to be torturing anyone once they become a paraplegic. (That, dear friends and gentle readers, is what turned a cute and funny rom-com into a sadistic mess of a film. Why, Tyler Perry? Why?).

Also, Whitney was tweakin' waaaay back in 99' ya'll.
This video is all the proof I need. Source

Other than being all "Un-break my heaaaaaaAAAAAaaaaart! Say you'll love me agaaaaaaaAAAAAaaaaain!", I was also experiencing an sudden onset of intense daddy issues. "Father Figure" might as well be on repeat in my car. Like Wendy in Purple Rain, I think I've got my periods backwards - every 28 days I stop being depressed. Then, as soon as it's over, I'm the giraffe from Robot Chicken again, until the next period starts, which begins the "Acceptance" phase. And on, and on, and on, FOREVER! I hates it. :-(

But, unlike Wendy, I do not have fabulous hair. Bummer. Source

So, needless to say, although I've gotten a fair amount accomplished this week, it was all done despite physical illness and personal turmoil. I'm proud. Maybe next week will be better. I hope so, cus I can't even stand myself right now, what with this mopey Debbie Downer stuff.

Enough! Silence! I cain't take this shit no mo'! Source

Blog Challenge = Fail. Happiness Challenge = Fail. Nice Challenge = Win! So Far . . .

February started out a little rough for your old pal, Uranium J. At 2 AM Friday morning, I woke to find myself ill with what I assumed was food poisoning and only today began to feel as though I were truly on the mend. Apparently, there's some dream stomach flu going around - B.A. MooreCox and Merlisser in Washington State seem to have had the same thing, so sadly I am unable to blame my affliction on an errant hipster taco.

The silver lining to the situation is that I have eaten almost nothing in the past four days, and I have nearly regained my pre-holiday weight. I am on the road to recovery in more ways than one. This is good.

The worst part of the whole ordeal for me wasn't the searing pain, the chills, the headaches, or the frequent and frantic trips to the toilet. It was the fact that I neglected my blog on MY FIRST BLOGAVERSARY!

That's right, my very first entry, Testing. Testing. 123. was posted on February 1, 2012. I was going to do some kind of great celebratory post on Friday. There was going to be confetti. Streamers. Maybe even some cake. But I was too sick to get out of bed, much less contemplate a party post, and now the time has come and gone.

Friday was also the start of Katy Widrick's 28 Day Blog Challenge, which I had planned to tell you all about. I signed up for the challenge a couple of weeks ago and I was so excited to get started on February 1. Well, here we are and it's February 5, and I've done no blogging challenges. It's late and I'm tired, so we'll worry about that tomorrow, along with my belated plan for following Gretchen Rubin's Happier at Home 21 Day Challenge.

Which also should have started on Friday.

Luckily, thanks to Sarah Von at Yes! and Yes! there's one challenge I can still start on time: 9 Days of Nice. Today is Day 1, and I am writing a Yelp review of a favorite local business - or in my case, two local businesses: Georgia  Game Changers and All Things Chocolate in Richmond Hill, GA.

These two fine establishments are what small businesses are all about: great products and great customer service. Seriously, I love these businesses. I love what they sell. I love the people who own them. I love the way they look. I love how I feel when I go there. They make my a little bit happier about living in this place at this time. I am so glad for them, and now you can see how much. Click the links, dear friends and gentle readers!

Georgia Game Changers on Yelp!
All Things Chocolate on Yelp!
And, because I love Mr. Bill and The Ice Cream Stop, how about one more?
The Ice Cream Stop on Yelp!

Uranium J's White Trash Confessions #1: "I Love Professional Wrestling!"

I have a dirty little secret. Not many people know about this, but in the interest of coming clean, and hopefully helping someone else through my confession, here goes:

I love wrestling.

I know. I know. I should be getting my sports fix from soccer or rugby or even college football - not Professional Wrestling. But not me. No no. I love watching those giant men grappling with one another. I mean have you seen Sting? Have you seen him? His legs are like tree trunks and my inner goth is totally turned on by the pseudo-Crow makeup. Let’s not forget that he wears skintight spandex leotards. He’s not the only one either. There’s Triple H. There’s The Rock. There’s CM Punk. There’s Chris Jericho (oh, Chris Jericho). Edge. John Cena. Rey Mysterio. Kurt Angle. Batista. In recent years I have come to see these guys for what they are: very good looking, incredibly built performance artists. We all know wrestling is fake (right?), but it still requires amazing athletic ability, decent acting skills, and a great sense of humor. It’s the sense of humor that gets me. These tall, sexy, mean looking muscle men are funny!

I think I just died. Pin me, Sting. Pin me. Source

I didn't always feel this way though. As a child, I hated wrestling because my sister insisted on watching it at the expense of my cartoon consumption. This was  point of contention. I loved my sister, I looked up to her and in ways, I wanted to be just like Alicia, but I also really hated wrestling. I fought as hard as a toddler could against watching wrestling, but my sister always won out in the end. I didn't know how to work the TV when I was 5, so I grudgingly tolerated WWF on Saturday afternoons. I can't deny that I thought Ricky "TheDragon" Steamboat was pretty cool. He could make fire. And Rowdy RoddyPiper was on an episode of The Mario Brothers Super Show, so I could tolerate him. But Jake the Snake? Randy "Macho Man" Savage? The Hulk? I could definitely live without them and their muscle-bound antics. These, of course were the guys my sister loved. The good guys. I've always been a bad guy kinda girl.

OK children, can you say "Swag"? Say it with me now: "Swaaaag". Source

A lot of the issue with wrestling has always been the whole, "it's fake" thing. My mom took every opportunity to tell my sister this, which I imagine had something to do with years of watching wrestling with Alicia’s dad when they were married, and hating every moment of it. My bigger issue with it was that it was boy stuff, and I wanted to be a girl. Not necessarily a girly girl, but a girl, good and proper. And girls just don't like wrestling. Clearly, this illustrates that I have had issues with my identity from day one. I've always been trying to be who I was supposed to be instead of being who I am. This lessened for a short time between 1997 and 2001 - The Halcyon Days. I will say this for my sister - I truly admire how comfortable she is with herself. It's really pretty awesome.

Rowdy Roddy Piper for Most Charming Pro Wrestler! Source

Anyway, about wrestling - my ideas about it started to change when I became boy crazy in the sixth grade. Having always been precocious, I bypassed the cute hand holding classroom boyfriend bit and went straight to pining after high school boys. It was all about competition, after all. All my close girl friends were a year older than me and at junior/senior high dating tenth graders. So, I had to get me one. I didn't want to be left out. Being 1997, before the internet had become what it is today, we talked (novel idea) on the phone and had sleepovers. Much havoc can be wreaked with an ordinary house phone, let me tell you.

Hey look! My house phone from 1997! Source

Before the end of September, I was chatting up my best friend Heather's new boyfriend George, among others, on a regular basis. I have always been the mother hen type, and I had to insure that his intentions with my friend were noble. Or something. This culminated in my being invited to his co-ed birthday party in September. His co-ed pool party. Yikes. I barely remember anything about this stupid party. Some people played chicken in the pool, but I was too busy trying to blend in with the blue pool liner. I was worried that someone would notice that I was not as cute as the other girls, and I didn't really know how to talk to the boys in person. Savage Garden wasn’t kidding: “On the telephone line I am anyone – I am anything I want to be,” and I was.

Norman Mailer: Very different from a super model.
Of course, that's just an opinion, I guess. Source

At some point, we all wound up back inside the house watching wrestling. This is when I made a discovery. Boys like this crap, and if I like boys, maybe I better learn to like it too. They were engrossed. I would remember this for later. I took note of the big players: Stone Cold Steve Austin and The Rock for starters. Again, I found myself more interested in the bad guys like Sting and Mankind. How could 11 year old me not love the guy who looked like The Crow and the guy with the leather mask and smiley face t-shirt? So cool. So edgy.

What's not to like about Mankind? He had a flipping sock puppet. Source

By the time I made it to the seventh grade, my sister had married a fellow wrestling fan and I was dating a boy who was more interested in cars and records than men prancing around a square ring in tights and makeup. I bought a pair of Steve Austin boxers just because they had some skulls on them and they said 3:16. (I was going through a religious thing and I didn't realize that Austin 3:16 had nothing to do with "For God so loved the world . . ."). Although I could once again respond to wrestling with ire since the boy I was kissing felt the same, I couldn't escape it since I was spending most weekends at my sister's house. That was OK though - she and her husband could watch wrestling in the living room while the boy and I were practicing exploratory biology in the back. Life was good. I didn't think about wrestling much, except when talking to some guy friends at school.

I have a pic of my HS boyfriend that looks very much like this. I'm not posting it cus he's crazy and I don't want to invoke the wrath of insanity. Course, this could actually be him. Haven't seen him in like 9 years. Anything's possible. Source

I had this one friend, Edward, who for a time, was the big brother I never had. He was a senior when I was in the seventh grade and despite his gruff exterior he was a really great guy. He was a Fire Explorer, he was a metal head, and he was a total wrestling fanatic. I gleaned little things from nights at my sister's house to throw into conversations with him during my lunch period. There was a group of us who would escape the horrorshow of the cafeteria to spend lunch together in the band hall. "Yeah, I like Mankind,” I would say. Then, because I was never able to get the wrestling channels on TV at home (We literally got 5 channels until we got cable) Edward would regale us with the details of Mankind's fights that week. I wasn't so interested in what he was saying. Rather, I was interested that he was interested in what he was saying, and in turn found me interesting as well. I needed male attention in the worst possible way. Still do, but that's another story.

Edward, my sister, and her dad were all affiliated with the Crescent City
Volunteer Fire Department when I was growing up. They taught me
about wrestling, but they were also just really cool, brave people
who were positive influences in my young life. I am so honored
to have known them, and proud of their service. Thank you! Source

After Edward graduated and my sister went on the road with her truck-driver husband wrestling became a non-thing for me. As far as I knew, the whole MacMahon clan had dried up and blown away. The only wrestling I watched at that time was the clay-mation “Battle Royale” every week on Celebrity Deathmatch. Several years would pass before I really began to have a true appreciation for the “art form” involved in the “sport”. Between my junior and senior year in high school, I dated a guy who wanted to be a professional wrestler. "Yes, of course I know it's fake," he told me. I still never really understood why he wanted to be a wrestler, but seeing as he never really made it a reality, maybe he didn't know either. However, since I was schtupping this guy and I wanted to keep doing so, I re-entered the world of wrestling fandom. My old favorites, Sting and Mankind were still around, and for the first time I was able to look at them not as idiots in makeup, but as actors. It was a whole new thing. First of all, I'm not going to lie, it didn't hurt things that Sting is 6 foot 2 and his thighs were as big around as my waist should be. Didn’t hurt at all. It was more than teenage lust though. These guys were real, legitimate actors and I was totally impressed. They created their wacky wrestler man personas from scratch, and then played these personas out on live television. It was improv. It was melodrama. It was stand-up. It was theater, and I like theater.

Legit Actor. Don't believe me? Two words: "Pain & Gain". Source

My relationship with the “would be” wrestler didn't last all that long. Great sex does not a great relationship make. All I had left after the spark died was a new appreciation for the world of professional wrestling and an even bigger crush on Sting. A crush that I would finally admit to out loud to a select few. Not long after I graduated high school, my mom canceled the satellite and we were down to having 5 channels once again. Luckily, in 2006 YouTube entered my life. We have had a very fulfilling relationship, YouTube and I. Whenever I want to watch classic wrestling clips, they are right there, 24 hours a day, in color! Not only can I watch more recent stuff (RowdyRoddy Piper Returns! What?!?), I can also watch classic clips from The Golden Age of Wrestling, which happens to be the mid to late 90s. Matter of fact, that night at George’s birthday was apparently a huge night in wrestling history. Who knew?

I’m not gonna lie, it’s probably a good thing we can’t afford the cables, because I would turn into a teenage boy for Monday Night Raw. One day we will have the cables though, and when that time comes, heaven help me, my inner white trash may come out for all the world to see. And you know what? I’m totally OK with that. I love wrestling.

And with shit like this, why shouldn't I love it? Source