Health

Since high school I’ve been cold all the time. And tired. And achey. Everyone joked that this is what happens when you get older, heh heh. Yeah. Well.

I just want to say that everyone is full of shit. If you are living your life tired and achey and with a sore throat and any other aches and pains, all day, every day it’s not normal. Let me say it again: it. is. not. normal. Don’t ever let doctor’s tell you that there is nothing wrong with you when you feel like shit every day and get depressed because nobody should feel this way when they’re only 23 or 27 or 35.

I have autoimmune hypothyroidism and a vitamin D deficiency. It may not seem like much, but it’s been enough to make me completely miserable for a large chunk of my life. But I never even knew. Now I know and, yeah, I’ll have to take medication and vitamin D supplements for the rest of my life, but I know that I’m not crazy, and there’s a reason that I feel like poop.

And knowing is empowering.

Always.


“I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter — “

“But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?”

“For him?” shouted Snape. “Expecto Patronum!”

From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe. She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears.

“After all this time?”

“Always” said Snape.

~J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Tourist by Jacinda

She just couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu. She knew she had been here before. But, no, this was a new place, unfamiliar to her even in its painful familiarity. It had never felt like this. She had never seen these places, these people.

She kept her head down and moved quickly. Darting past beautiful cathedrals, missing the sunlight glistening off the top of a gold-domed building in the distance. Missing everything that wasn’t rushing past under her feet – filth, decay, the occasional dead bird or other wildlife. She missed the birds silhouetted in front of a sunset that would have made Van Gogh weep.

She was terrified of looking up. Looking up meant facing. Facing meant acknowledging. Acknowledging meant admitting.

She rushed through the crowded streets, eyes down, alone only in her own mind. Her friends were with her. The “her” she took great pains to show them, anyway. The her who didn’t need anybody or anything. The her who feigned confidence, never doubted her intelligence, always knew the right thing to say or how to play off saying the wrong thing. The her that wasn’t locked away.

It wasn’t sustainable. She couldn’t live forever as a tourist in her own life, never knowing who she really was, her potential. She knew that. It scared her more than anything ever had.

How could she be herself when she knew that who she was, was not even close to who she pretended to be?

She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and looked herself in the eye.

I hate it when people type “Dr. Who”

No. You’re wrong. Just stop.

Anyway.

So, here’s a picture of what the current hair looks like:

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Yeah. I know. Adorable, right? It’s really quite a fun hairstyle.

You know what *else* is adorable? This:

1383977_10151689192700741_101817601_nYep.

In other news, I was drafted to a home team with ARRG – the M-80s. Erica is on the Rebel Skate Alliance (yay, nerds!). The home season opener was last weekend, and of course we had to play against each other, right off the bat. The Mateys won 231-86. Erica did a REALLY good job jamming.

 

 

The runs.

As in, the ones I’ve not done for the past ten days. After running consistently since May, I ended up damaging myself a tiny little bit at practice. Nope, not from some awesome hit that someone put on me.

I hurt myself trying to do a figure skating move that the awesome Dirty Deborah Harry taught at RollerCon 2013.

It’s called a three turn, and this kid makes it look easy:

Well… I got stuck. I could not for the life of me make my body actually turn around. And so I got tangled up in my own feet and fell. Plop.

The next day, I made my way through four miles. Even though I couldn’t get my breath very well. Which I then decided was dumb. So I took a break.

And then I got a cold/flu thing and couldn’t get out of bed for a week!

So. That running thing. Monday is going to be my first day back. I’m actually excited about it!

Which worries me for other reasons.

Oh, hey. Hello. Hi.

So… It’s been more than three months since I last blogged.

Here’s what’s changed:

  • I got my hair cut. No, like, really cut. Pixie. Short.
  • I moved to Saint Louis.
  • I play roller derby for the Arch Rival Roller Girls.
  • I’ve been running quite a bit. Well, I’m running around 15 miles weekly. Not a lot for some, but more than I typically run, for sure. That’s going up every couple of weeks due to following a prep plan for a half marathon.
  • Doctor Donna got bigger.

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Fresh Meat

I’ve been helping coach Sin City’s current fresh meat class since February. I love those girls. They never cease to amaze me. They get better, like, every practice. They’re encouraging of one another. It’s really wonderful to see.

They take skills next week.

After practice last night, they were asking questions about evals and what happens next. What happens? You are no longer a freshie. You go to FAST practice. You start scrimmaging.

And I teared up talking about it.

What. Who am I?

I am SO proud of those girls and everything they’ve accomplished.