Thursday, March 23, 2017

The Mediocre Athlete

I've never been an awesome athlete. I used to be a terrible jumper. My hand strength and grip are terrible. In Middle School, I couldn't even do a full sit up. I was just one of those kids who wasn't athletic. I mean, I was a pretty good softball player and I could jump for balls (I was the catcher), but that was after hours and hours of practice.



How terrible is it for a Mexican kid to not be able to jump? I completely killed the stereotype so when people made fun of me for "jumping the fence" I couldn't even laugh. If I had come into this country by hopping a fence, I'd probably still be in Mexico.
In fact, people still see me and they don't see an athlete. Most people at work didn't even know I could run as fast, or as far, as I do now, which took years and mile after mile, hundreds of miles, to be able to run as fast and as long as I do now. Hell, I'm a marathon runner now. I still suck at sit ups but at least I can do them now. People also don't know that I'm a cyclist. I used to be much better than I am now because I used to have the time to put in the miles. I was competitive at one point, but that also took thousands of miles to accomplish.

The reality of me is that I'm such an untalented athlete that I have to train very hard to be mediocre at best. 

But that lack of talent is what makes me work so hard. I work really hard because I know that I suck at a lot of things, so I train. 

Trying to set goals when time gets taken away from you is hard. Trying to balance a time-consuming job, cycling/running training and racing, and trying to spend time with someone other than your cats can take its toll, especially when you want to snuggle and every cat rejects you. Even the needy one. I mean... what the fuck? Something has to be sacrificed. And I've been thinking a lot about what I want to give up or what I need to put on hold. At this point, I decided to put the Navy in the back burner and decided to get my fitness back. Fitness first, job that I'm not able to quit second. I'm still getting my quals, don't get me wrong, but I won't sacrifice sleep and training for it. At least not on purpose. Also, the more fit I am, the better I feel, and the better I'll most likely do my job... so, if we want an example of cognitive dissonance, there you have it.

I'm still pretty hurt about my cats rejecting some snuggles, though.








Starting this StrongMan shit adds to it. The stuff is so cool yet so hard to do. I see people at the gym killing it, and I can hardly lift a 115-pound atlas stone. But I'm able to do it more and more each day. I've gotten several PRs lately, which is pretty fucking cool. I think that the reason that I don't hit PRs more quickly is because I'm a living example of the self-fulfilling prophecy; I've been told and I believe that I'm such a mediocre athlete that I don't actually believe I can become a great athlete.

I'm ready to return to my mediocre competitiveness. So ready, that I signed up for a 100-mile mountain bike race in Bend, Oregon, and I'm debating on whether I'm going to sign up for the StrongMan meet at the gym I go to in June. Signing up for stupid shit is what keeps me going when shit keeps hitting the fan.

Here's to being mediocre!

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

A Quick Update... Stay Tuned!

Oh, life. What can I even say about you at this point?

I haven't posted since I did my my adventure race, which was in 2015. To say I've been neglecting this poor blog is an understatement. However, I can assure you that I have gotten very out of shape since that adventure race. It wasn't really by choice. I haven't been able to work out as much as I usually do due to work, but I think most of you know how much I bitch about that. I've been changing that recently, though. I joined a powerlifting/strong man gym, and after a while of working out at the place, I decided to pay one of the personal trainers to kick my ass twice a week. Legit giving her money to hurt me.


Okay, so it's a little better than that. I keep saying that I'm out of shape but I've ran two marathons and several half marathons since that adventure race, mostly without much training. Thankfully my "out of shape" is most people's in shape, at least for endurance bullshit. I mean, the marathons hurt but I finished them strong. How many people can say that want to run a marathon just because?

Not many, because they're not as stupid as I am. 

I also have a bunch of cats now. It's pretty cool. They're mostly judgmental and they keep pushing everything off of the counters so Nova, my awesome dog, eats everything so he's super fat now. I keep calling one of them Tiny Satan because she's pretty much what I believe Satan would be in cat form. I think she'll eventually eat me if I sleep for too long.



I also got a divorce, so I believe my future will be a bunch of cats, but that's all I'm going to say about that subject because I'm still pretty sad about it. 


 I got eye surgery, too, so now I can see without glasses, and I also don't look like a complete jackass, which is what I look like when I wear glasses. So now when I wake up I no longer do the daily ritual of, "Where are my glasses? I need my glasses to see but I lost my glasses but I also need my glasses to be able to find my glasses." It was a stupid game and I'm glad I'm no longer playing it.

I still hate my current command because it's stupid and they way they run things is stupid and I don't like it. At all. I blame it for destroying the little family I had, but I've survived 2-1/2 years of that shit hole. I'm here for 6 more months. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now. And I can't wait to get out of Washington State. I'm so tired of the rain, and the gloom, and the rain. Everything is wet. Even the air is wet. What kind of fucking state is always fucking wet?

So that's what has been happening for the past couple of years. Not much, really. I'm now just more bitter and out of shape, but things seem to be turning around a little bit. I now can draw for the blog so I'm pretty excited about that. I have a few blog ideas so... keep your eyes peeled. My blog is finally coming back!



Saturday, June 6, 2015

Equinox Traverse 2015 Adventure Race

Oh man! I know, guys. I haven't written in a while. But... I have something to tell you now. I mean, my life has been pretty boring. I've been working 16+ our days in the Navy. I love it, though. I bitch a lot, but as my dad (a Sailor now civilian) told me, a bitching sailor is a happy sailor. ANYWAY.

I decided I was going to do a 44-hour Adventure Race in Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania. I had never done one and I didn't know what it was all about, so, naturally, in my style, decided to go for it.

I've always called myself an idiot. I know I can be less dumb than I probably put out to be, but I'm an idiot. Any junior enlisted sailor knows what gets you in trouble... Boredom. And I think that boredom is what brings the biggest idiot out in me.

This year hadn't been my year for racing. Boot Camp and "A" School got me pretty out of shape for the bike. I've struggled in races and I've only gotten on the podium for a second place on one time trial, albeit a hilly time trial, which hilly isn't my forte, but still. The fitness is coming back quickly but man, it sucks going from being top contender to going back to the bottom of the totem pole in the field.

Not too long ago I saw a teammate posted about needing a female for an adventure race. I later learned that "elite" teams in Adventure Racing need at least one female since not very many females take the beating. It makes sense. If you have a female than can take this brutality, it should be called an elite team. I didn't really know what Adventure Racing was and I knew I had good endurance, although it hasn't been my year, so I replied with something along the lines of "if my Chain of Command lets me." When I brought it up to my CoC, they were all for it and started to do the paperwork needed for me to go before I could even say, "HELL YEAH I'LL GO." They pretty much did that for me.

Oh... Oh, shit. They're letting me go. Okay then.

I was pretty much balls deep into this now. I got my plane ticket and my arrangements to go to this race. My husband was supportive, though understandably skeptic of it. Oh, I also got a bike box since I'ver never traveled with a bike via plane and I wanted to ride my Grammo Toa during this race, not rent some other bike.

Crap! I'm balls deep now.

So, I get to the air port, and it was nerve wracking because the key to my bike case broke and it was all messed up, so I thought my new beautiful Toa was going to get messed up on the ride over. It didn't, but that's all I could think of. Five hours later, I got my stuff and met up with my team leader, who is a seasoned and amazing Adventure Racer, and went to his home, where he and his family were nice enough to host me.


Okay, so the first day, my host, Mr. "Dash" decided to go on a ride to test out MTBs, probably mostly mine since I had to rebuild mine after flying. By the way, my Grammo was flawless on this pre-ride. I saw lots of cool stuff and even got a kick ass cupcake which was fucking delicious and totally within my diet.







We packed up and left for the race.

It was supposed to be about a three-hour ride. It wasn't, because there was so much traffic. Holy crap, what the hell? So much traffic there. Also, it's nothing like the West Coast. If you drive 20 minutes (maybe with limited traffic) on the West Coast, you get to the next town. In the East Coast, you get through like five state lines. It was crazy.

So like we got there and set up camp and met out teammate Dustin.


In the morning, I should have thrown up because I was so nervous but I didn't, and then we went to check in, and we got our stuff, and Dash did our map stuff. Dustin knew some of it, but I don't know maps at all, I know charts (FYI Maps = land, Charts = water... I'm Navy.. I don't know shit about maps), and we got our gear together and all of that and waited for the start time. It was cut close and Dash had his work cut out for him with the charts maps with plotting points and such, but he did it. I don't know how, but it's pretty much because he's awesome.



We started the race at 0900 on Saturday. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand we started.

And we started going up the mountain. I saw a few people in a single speed, which I though was crazy, going up the mountain, but up the mountain I was going about my 8 to 12-ish hour speed. It was pretty comfortable except the humidity. Holy shit... I was already sweating up a hill I normally am okay going up... it was bad and I became concerned. If it's this bad now, how bad is it going to be later? But then I decided that it's all fire roads and I can just grind it out. And I did.

We did got to some single track-ish section with some loose rock and my teammate Dustin crashed on it. I was right behind him and it was pretty bad, but he got back on and rode on. Against both Dash's and my instincts, we kept moving on. We probably should have stopped for a concussion assessment but... I don't know. We kept going because it was just an endo... and who doesn't endo on a race? I mean... seriously? I do at least twice every three races.

We got to the first transition area after some riding.

As we kept going through the race, my brain kept fucking with me.
Hey! My brain would say.
What? I'd answer.
No... What are you doing?
What do you mean?
What are you doing? You've never done this? The most you've done is like.... 20 miles uphill. Give up. 
But why?
Because it's over your limit.
Okay... I'll let my team leader know at the top of this hill.
I fucking hope so. You're too far and out of shape for this. Tell them!!


And we trekked. I thought that "trekking" was like.... the kind of trail running/hiking I do; pretty technical but you know, there's a trail. Nope. We went up shit I didn't even think we'd do and then went down it. I felt like I was going to die. Not only was the vegetation attacking and eating me alive, we were going down the fucking mountain and I couldn't find my footing at all. I was completely out of my element and I had no idea what to do... besides just keep going... or letting a bear eat me. That was also an option that came into my mind. 

We got to some of the check points, one way the fuck up the mountain, and then we trekked down, in which we were going down some creek bed or I don't know what the hell and we had to climb down. Climb, not walk, not run, not slide, climb. I've never done anything like that before. 


Yeah, we're way up there and we have to go back down... all the way down. This was only hour 6 of a 44-hour race. 

I was struggling down the mountain. I was getting cut up because I didn't realize what "trekking" in Adventure Racing was, and I just couldn't figure out how to get my footing down the mountain whereas my teammates looked like experienced billy goats. And because it was such a struggle for me and at this point, though I didn't know, I had sprained my knee pretty badly... like super bad I'm still recovering from it, that we got to the Transition Area cutoff by mere seconds. I wish I was exaggerating but I wasn't. 

We took a break in which I contemplated on whether I was dead or if this was a bad dream or something, ate food, got fresh water (we had gotten some water when we were climbing down the creek thing or whatever, so fresh water was awesome), changed back into bike stuff, and headed back out, which I don't know, man. 

My knee was bothering me while I was riding but I figured it was just because I just climbed up and down some fucking mountain like a three-legged mentally challenged donkey. I fell back a bit and Dash asked my why I was falling back when we were going at an easy-ish pace. I didn't have an answer for that... I was wondering the same thing, so I just kept on pedaling. 

We had more climbing, more this, more that, hills that kept kicking my ass. My brain wouldn't shut up, my knees were feeling weird, I was struggling on things I don't normally struggle with on the bike. Granted, I was 20 pounds heavier due to my pack, but I just didn't get why life was such a struggle. I was breaking and I didn't know what to do. My brain started to go into panic mode because I should have quit, but I kept going for some stupid reason, and I kept breaking more and more. 

We rode through the night. I actually had a few hours where I felt pretty awesome. I was riding well, I had fun, the downhills were kick ass and my body was, "WE WORK NIGHTS I KNOW WHAT WORK AT NIGHT IS!!!" so I was a bit more in my element. We went to some checkpoints, strategically not going to the northern-most checkpoints, and grabbed the checkpoints we could while going to our next mandatory checkpoint, a 24-hour gas stating, which, unlike the first mandatory checkpoint, we reached five hours early. 

This gas station had some awesome pizza roll things and I tried eating one. It was rough. My body just didn't want to cooperate, but I ate as much as I could, got some Gatorade (which I never drink but I think that shit saved me on this race), chatted with some other racers and found out that they, too, decided to skip the northern checkpoints, some were also struggling in the hills, and so on. We moved on.

It was cold as can be but we rode on through  the night. I broke again, my brain wouldn't shut up, I was struggling. We got more check points, I kept struggling. I just didn't know what to do. I kept pedaling but I was so out of my comfort zone and my body's limits that I just didn't know what to do besides keep following my teammates. So I did just that. My knee was hurting a bit more but oh well. 

We kept going through some fun trails and then they got super technical. They got to the point where we couldn't ride, and we hiked the hike-a-bike trails of hell. They were pretty bad. We got to the checkpoint we needed and kept going, hiking our bikes more because the trails were just not rideable. I was getting annoyed because, god dammit, bikes are for riding, not fucking hiking! But, whatever, I was still struggling and it sucked and I hated my life. 

It became day time and then I realized that this wasn't a nightmare, it was real life. Shit. But some of the views were pretty sweet.


We kept going while getting checkpoint to our next mandatory checkpoints and transition area, which the cutoff was at 3p.m. We got lost once trying to find the trail, and had to hike a bike more. At this point my knee was absolutely killing me. Great. So my brain finally shuts the fuck up but now my knee is bitching about being hurt or something. Whatever. We got to our transition area and Dash had promised us a nice break, where I took about a 45-minute nap. We were late but we didn't get the penalty because so many teams missed the cutoff time due to the race promoter misjudging how long it would take to get there. Sweet, good news. The other good news is that the trekking in that area wasn't mandatory so we rode on to our next transition, which was the kayaking. WOO! 

On the way to this transition area I literally had a mental, emotional, and physical breakdown and was literally crying because it sucked and I was hurting like crazy. I've never been so out of touch with my body and it was freaking me out so I broke down and had a total meltdown and tantrum. We sat a bit and took a break.

After that meltdown, we rode some more and went to the kayak portion, which was a ton of fun. 10 miles and 2-1/2 hours later, we were at our second to last mandatory transition area/checkpoint. Holy shit, I've made it this far. The race promotor was there and checked in on me, which I thought was super nice of him. My knee was so bad at this point that I fell when I went up the stairs to go to the bathrooms. 

There were more checkpoints to get but none were mandatory. We decided to just walk the 8-ish miles back to the bikes and come back to finish the race. 16 miles and a severely sprained knee were in the way of me finishing this race. That's it. 

Too bad that the walk got harder and harder. My knee wasn't doing well. No matter how much we walked we seemed to never get there. I actually don't even remember part of the walk because I fell asleep. Apparently I was walking so slow that Dash and Dustin were wondering what was going on (besides the hurt knee) and when they came back for me, that's when I woke up. I started walking faster then, the hallucinations from sleep deprivation were so trippy, too. 

Then... there were lights. It was the little town, and Dash said it was about another half mile or so for the bikes. 

We got to the bikes and we got ready. Luckily, because of my cycling background, my body just said, "Fuck you, brain. I know how to do this." I went into auto mode and I was able to hop on, tell myself it's a flat 8 miles... Go! My body knew what to do, though I was so hurt I wasn't able to do a full revolution with my right leg, but fuck it... we had 8 miles and I would be done. Officially done. We kept going and Dash stopped once because he was falling asleep on the bike. We took a little break and kept going. We TTd it back to the finish. 

And there it was. Ohiopyle. We finished. I got off my bike by the last checkpoint so the race promotors could see I was with them but I sat on the grass. I was done. I went beyond my body's and mind's limits, but while many times my brain said I needed to quit and I told myself I needed to quit, I never actually told my teammates that I wanted to quit. It was done. 

We headed back to the campground, showered, and passed the fuck out. 




We went to the breakfast buffet the race provides for us and then the awards. We got 5th place... our 2/3rds novice team beat some very, very experienced teams. The race promoter even gave me a shout out because it was my first race. Normally, people don't make a 44-hour race that's this hard (apparently this race was pretty hard even for experienced adventure racers) their first race. It was done and over with and I was able to wear my Equinox Traverse shirt I got. 


As far as aftermath, I didn't realize how badly I was hurt. My knee is just now, two weeks later, feeling better on rides. I was finally able to ride a few little hills on my mountain bike. Tomorrow, June 6th, I'll actually try to ride my road bike. I'll probably lose a couple or three toe nails, but so far they're being champs and hanging on. Throughout the race I mentioned that this type of racing was probably something I'll finish and cross off my bucket list, now I'm wanting to train to do another one, a shorter race, but I really want to do another Adventure Race. I'm changing my diet, trying to trim a few more pounds, and trying to figure out how to make my giant fucking quads smaller (the struggle of a sprinter). 

I'm glad I had awesome teammates. I would have never made it without their support, and I'm so happy my team provided me with this opportunity. I went to a place I never thought I'd go visit, DC and places in Pennsylvania, and I went to a place mentally, emotionally, and physically that I never knew I'd ever reach. Overall, this was an amazing experience and if I can get through this, I can get through a lot. I'm part of an official finishing elite team! 

I want to do another Adventure Race. 

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

A New Book

Note: I understand I didn't draw any funny pictures for this topic. It's because it's an actual serious one. Don't worry, the next one will be snarky and full of stupid pictures. 

There's a point in a person's life when things become stale. They're stagnant. It sucks, I know. I've been there, done that. You get so comfortable with your life that you just go with the motions. You get up, go to work, go to the gym/train on your bike, come home, sleep. Do it all over again tomorrow. You're comfortable with your family and friends because you know what to expect. We're creatures of habit. I get it. We like to be able to predict things, though we thrive when we think of ourselves as unpredictable. Go figure, right?

So, we go through the motions. I do, too. I just go with it. I'm comfortable, happy. Why should I change anything? I'm living the Modern Mother-Fuckin' American Dream and I'm doing well. But that's the thing. I wasn't fully happy. Stagnation. It didn't make me happy. The motions were too repetitive and too boring. I needed to do something about it.

I was resentful of my life. In my mind, I was doing everything right. I finished High School with an extremely high GPA, I went to community college, transferred to University, got my degree with a competitive GPA. And then what? I guess Grad School. And I was ready for it. I was ready to jump in. I sent in applications to several places and got accepted to these places, but I wasn't ready for it. I didn't want it. The program in Sacramento wasn't what I wanted (a PsyD) and I didn't want to move to the Bay Area, so then what? I even told people that I didn't get accepted into the Sacramento program because I wanted to avoid the questioning... "What!? Why didn't you accept the program. This is for your future."

But if I'm doing everything right, if I'm doing everything for my future correctly, then why am I so resentful?

I thought about it. I thought about my future a lot. And I kept resenting it. There more I thought about it, the more resentful and angrier I got with it. I was doing everything right. I went through my higher education and I had absolutely nothing to show for it except for some debt I accumulated. I had debt because of my future but no job in my field. So I was supposed to go through more school, a Grad program, and accumulate more debt? Without a guaranteed job? Is that really what I want? Do I want to continue this road of uncertainty?

I didn't know.


When I got the congratulatory e-mail, I remember sitting down and bursting into tears. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what the fuck I wanted. I didn't know if I wanted to keep this horrible road of "I don't know what going to happen when I finish. I don't know if I'll have a job. I don't know what I'm going to do. I. Don't. Know." At that point, my best friend had mentioned the Air Force. Ha. Seriously? The military? While I've always had the curiosity of joining, I never actually thought of it as a possibility. But we were serious, and we went to talk to a recruiter.

The only problem was that the recruiter was never at his office. I submitted an application online and one finally called me, and left me with so many questions that I didn't like it. But the idea of the military was still there, and I thought about it more, and more, and more. The idea never left my head. This was an opportunity for me to continue my educations while I had a guaranteed job, so I wasn't going to give up so easily. One more time, I went to the Air Force office and the recruiters weren't there nor did they answer their phones, so I said, "Fuck this. I'm going to chat with the Navy."

Most of you know how this went.


This career change has been so amazing for me. It's opened up so many opportunities and I'm extremely excited for my career to start. And it opened up my eyes.

I have a lot past resentment. I resent certain events in my life, certain decisions I made, and certain people. It's hard to get rid of past resentment, however, joining the military has started a new chapter in my life. It's a new path. It's not just a new chapter in my book, it's a whole different volume. This is my chance to restart my life. Not many people are that lucky.

In this new insight, I got a moment where I thought, "Fuck all of the people who ever made me feel like shit, who ever hurt me, and who were terrible people to me." And that was it. I was to burn all of those bridges, because I didn't fucking need them. They needed to be gone. I would no longer tolerate their shittiness or anything they did, whether it was in the past, present, or whether they intended to hurt me again. They will not be allowed to be characters in my new book.


So, I started small. I first went on my phone and deleted all the contacts I didn't want. I then went to my social media, mostly Facebook. I have so many contacts on there that I've had to scroll through my friends list several times. My rules for deleting these people were simple:
1) If I hadn't talked to them in more than three months (I think this was generous), they were cut and,
2) If the name on the screen brought up a bad memory, I cut them from my connections.
It's been working wonderfully so far.

It's easy for me since I don't have children, and one of the reasons I don't want children is because of the freedom I have. But it's been my choice for several reasons, and the main one is the freedom; I've been able to drop my whole past, my whole life as I know it, this book I've written in for the past 27 years, and burn it. I can burn the book of the KC that I know, and I'll start a blank, new book. A new book without past resentments, without old stories, old pain... without history. I'm burning those bridges, and with those bridges, is that old book.

I've Moved. The fuck. On.

This is the happiest I've been in a long, long time. I'm refreshed, I'm excited, and the best part, I'm looking forward to my new life.


Saturday, November 30, 2013

Friends

There comes a time when you have to weed people out of your life. It happens at different stages of life. We either outgrow people or something happens that makes us hate that bitch a whole bunch. Most of us don't keep contact with our grade school friends, either because we moved or because we outgrew them or because they took our favorite toy or told your mom that you were eating mud and got you in trouble. Fuck that kid.



We get new friends when we're teenagers, and because we're hormonal little shits, we fight and sometimes those friendships can't be fixed. Then we become young adults and make a lot of mistakes. After the quarter-life crisis (oh, if you think we don't have one, you're dead wrong), you start making big life decisions. It sucks, but it has to be done. You are, after all, supposed to be responsible or something at that age. So, you start to make new friendships. Professional friendships. Friendships and relationships that are supposed to help you along, whether it's emotional or for when you need a night out, or for companionship... something. But some go wrong, and you have to learn when to weed those friendships out like an adult.

I've started to weed out a lot of people. Some because I've outgrown the friendships, some because they're complete and total douchebags so I don't want to deal with them, and others because they just suck as people. Most of the time, I get rid of these people because I simply don't want to waste the emotional energy in dealing with them. They're unpredictable people and it makes me uneasy. And here's the thing I've realized, I don't have to keep these people as friends if I don't want to. I don't. What will I lose? What will I gain? How much is it really going to affect me? If the answer to all of these questions is "not much," then what the fuck?

Here are the people I've recently been weeding out:

  • The Seasonal Friend
We all have this kind of friend. They talk to you like you're their best friend in the whole damn world, text you and call you often, like every status and picture on your Facebook and Instagram and whatever the fuck else social media you two are connected on. You constantly do favors for this person, help here and help there. Then suddenly, nothing. They're just gone. It's like they disappeared into thin air for weeks or even months. And then you get this text... because they need something. After months and months of not even acknowledging you, you're once again their best friend because they need a favor, however small it may be. I say FUCK YOU now.  
 

  • The Client
This is the person who is always depressed and always seeking advice. It's never just a conversation to talk about stuff, it's always stuff about them. But not just stuff about them, depressing stuff or seeking advice stuff. You say something not about them, and they seem to turn it into their issue. You can't get a word of positivity in because they just bring down the mood with their issues. You're their play, zero-profit therapist. And I guess this is my fault for getting a degree in Psychology. My excuse now is that I'm now pursuing a career as a Master at Arms in the Navy. SRY I WON'T BE YO' SHRINK NO MO'.  

  • The gossip
Yeah, okay, I'll admit that I enjoy hearing gossip. As long as it's not about me, I don't care. (Shut up, you like gossip, too.) I hear gossip from a lot of friends. Some are just harmless stories, others are not so harmless and kind of hurtful rumors in the ears of the wrong person. Most people know that I keep that shit to myself, say "yup," and don't really provide much feedback even though I'm dying on the inside and want to say something, so I re-tell these stories to my dog and horse, but then I just look crazy... I mean, even the dog and the horse are looking at me like I'm crazy.  I don't trust the cat so she's out of the gossip circle. Uh, anyway... then one day while I was all mopey and probably watching Spongebob Squarepants, I realized, "Shit... if these friends are saying that shit to me about other people, what are they saying about me?" Why the paranoia? Because I see the way The Gossip interacts with the people he/she gossips about. The Gossip is extremely nice to people when in face-to-face contact. Once the victim leaves, The Gossip unleashes and says a whole lot of not so awesome things. I shit you not, it's like a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde type change and it creeps me out. I realized that I'm not very comfortable around The Gossip, and while I enjoy the entertainment, I don't have the energy to be lied about. GO AWAY, I say. 

 

  • The Partier
The Boozer, The Drinker. I just don't have the energy or the patience to deal with that sort of friend. I have a huge career goal in mind and I just don't have the energy or the balls to do something stupid and ruin my career. So, NO STUPID FUN FOR ME.

  • The Joker
Nothing is ever serious. You can't have an actual conversation. Even if you tell them that your most beloved pet died, they'll make it into a joke. I can't and won't even try anymore.
I know, you're probably all going, "Well, this is passive-aggressive." The thing is, there's nothing passive about my aggressiveness. Most of the friends I've listed are out of my life... The rest, which are minimal, are in the process of getting weeded out. 

Monday, October 28, 2013

The Wolves

I read on the internet a lot. I usually use it as a sleep aid, because even though I'm going at a million miles an hour during the day, I can't wind down at night. I should be fucking exhausted after all I do during the day. It seems that my brain goes from being functional, making organized lists of what I have to do, and gets shit done during the day


To going and shitting itself at night


There's an actual point to this entry. So, my brain was shat one night, as it usually is, and I was scrolling on some sort of social media. Through my mindless scrolling, I came across this picture:


I get it. We live in a society that says, "Think positive! That's how you get stuff done!" And it's true, you have to think positive to get some stuff done. I won't deny that. Even though I seem like an angry person, I'm actually quite optimistic and pretty fucking happy. However, we need some of that greed to survive. If we were to always be super generous and give everything away, we would't have the resources to live. 

We need some inferiority to keep the ego in check, but we need some ego to have the confidence to hit the curveballs that life throws at us. 

We need anger to fuel a passion. We need rejection to feed the need to overcome challenges. We need some jealousy to want more than what we have, be it a better life, a better education, a better something. As long as that jealousy feeds our work ethic and is not a jealousy that will hurt another person, I feel that it's okay. 

I've felt all of that in the past. I've had the rejection, the feeling of inferiority, the jealousy, and it all made me work harder. It made me want a better life for myself, to work hard to get my education, to work hard to have a chance to have a career in the Navy. I had a bit of jealousy some peers who didn't have to work very hard to get state of the art bikes, so I worked my ass off to get the bikes, wheels, and to become a better and faster cyclist. I've had the anger and the resentment in myself for falling off of the bandwagon and quit lifting, so I went back, mad at myself, and have become very strong and have met the expectations that the Navy has for me. I want to exceed those expectations, and I will. 

A person who only has happiness, love, hope, and has only gotten the truth has nothing to overcome. How can a person grow to be a better person if they've never had a hurdle to jump, or gotten hit by that nasty curveball? There is nothing to overcome; it's a comfortable life. And, to me, that's a damn shame, because I've become the person I am now (and fuckin' aye, I think I'm a pretty good person) because of all of the challenges I've had in life. 

So, to this picture, I say that we need a third wolf. We need a happy wolf who loves and shit but who has had some shit thrown at him. A wolf that wants to work to become Alpha, not just be a comfortable Omega. 

Monday, October 21, 2013

That Special Place in Hell

Here's a list of people and things that deserve a special place in hell:


  • People with gas vehicles who park at the diesel pump, especially those who park there to go buy something into the little convenience store... not even there to pump car-running nectar. 
  • Those who think that men and women can't be "just friends."
  • People who give unsolicited advice. 
  • People who can't stop talking about themselves. 
  • Overly-political douches on Facebook or Twitter. NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR STUPID OPINION GO AWAY JESUS CHRIST!
  • Spiders, aka NOPES. 

  • Cheap vacuums. 
  • Shedding season. 
  • Not getting the channel that airs the San Jose Sharks games. 
  • Tumbleweeds. 
  • People who smoke while driving. 
  • My neighbors because every single one of those fuckers smoke and the nasty smell gets in my apartment. Fuck. You. 
  • Lifetime movies for being so bad and addictive. 
Expect That Special Place in Hell Pt 2 soon. 

Friday, August 30, 2013

The Master Plan: Hooyah!

I haven't written anything in a while. I've been really busy with The Master Plan. I know that some people who read this wonder what The Master Plan is. I haven't mentioned what it is simply because I didn't want to jinx it, even though I'm not superstitious in the least bit. Still... just in case, right?


Late last year, I decided to inquire about joining the military. Yeah, you know, I'm 26-years-old and have a college degree. What's the next step? Everything wasn't going according to my Original Life Plan so I decided to be open minded and inquire about the military. First was the Air Force (sorry, dad), but after giving me the run-around and only talking to crappy recruiters, I decided to talk to the Navy (Dad was happy). After talking to that recruiter, I felt comfortable and took a practice ASVAB, in which I scored highly. Two days later, I took the real ASVAB, in which I scored even higher, and started signing the remainder of my soul away... or at least trying to.

Weeks went by and the process kept getting longer and longer. I didn't know that it would take this long to join the military. Then months went by and I still hadn't done my physical. At times I thought, "Shit... am I not even good enough to join the military?" The signing process started in March of 2013.

And the process kept getting delayed. Curve balls kept getting thrown at me, but I kept hitting every single one of them. I didn't give this up.

Earlier in August, I got a call saying that I have a physical. Sweet! I went to my physical, which was a physical only (meaning I wasn't going to choose my job that day nor swear in). Everything went as smoothly as it possibly could that day, which was odd because I was expecting more curve balls (and yes, I was going to hit more home runs). I volunteered to be first for everything just to get my physical over with.

After the doctor congratulated me for passing the physical and being fit to serve in the military, I went to my liasion to get some of the final paperwork done and to do my interview. I was told, "Well... if the moons and stars align perfectly today for you, you might be swearing in." I didn't hold my breath because, after 6 or 7 months of this, stars and shit didn't align. The curve ball this time was that the planets and stars did align for me and I chose my job and swore in. As of August 12, 2013, I was in the Delayed Entry Program for the US Navy. I'm now a future sailor.


The patience was worth it.

I also have an awesome recruiter who tried his hardest to get all of my paperwork done and whatnot. He gave enough shits to get my stuff pushed through and to get me into the Navy. I thank him for giving shits and for helping me get this opportunity.

So far, DEP has been awesome. I enjoy the PT and I really enjoy learning in the meetings and whatnot. I've been studying so I can start my mentoring and to finish my START booklet.

Finally... I'm moving forward with my life.