Fractured

Welcome to 2011! This year has so much in store for me, it couldn't wait to smack me in the ankle with the first installment.

Spiral fracture of the right fibula. Well, I guess it really is the off-season.

Bring it 2011! I got a little something for you too!

I want more information

I have often said that you shouldn't ask the question if you don't want the answer. This is along the lines of, "Does this make my butt look big?" If you are asking the question, go back in your room and change. It does make your butt look big and you already know it. Maybe when you form the question, you should or do already know the answer, but you need confirmation. Wouldn't it be better to answer the question for yourself? I mean, as far as your ass looking big... do you really want to plant that seed? If you are lucky, it only lives in your mind right now; once you ask the question, it will live in someone else's mind as well. Of course, this doesn't apply to everything, but in matters of the heart, and fashion, you should assume you know the answer and it isn't the one you really want to hear.

Here we come to information and technology. I struggle with this age of information technology. On one hand, I absolutely love technology and have been involved with it, in one way or another, since I was a child. On the other hand... there is so much available information out there.

When you learn new things, when you know things that would have been better left unknown, or you know things you weren't meant to know, you can pretend all you want that those things don't exist, but you can't un-know them. Your mind will factor in all the new information and make it impossible for you to see things the way you did before knowing. Your brain doesn't allow you to have amnesia at will. You will try to move past, but you'll come back and the information will give you a fresh pain.

We have arrived at one of the best and worst technology possibilities: Information availability. In earlier days, if you didn't want someone to know something, you just didn't tell them. Now, if you want to keep a secret, you need to change your name.

The Intolerable

I was thinking about the people that consider themselves "so liberal" and "super tolerant", but how their tolerance only extends to what they find tolerable. Brings to mind the bible thumping type that preaches on and on about charity and forgiveness, but then happily points out every possible flaw and "un-christian" behavior in an exceptionally intolerant way.

Me? I am struggling with being "The Intolerable."

I recognize that my personality is abrasive to some (maybe all). I realize that I have my own way of doing things; That I am an odd mixture of feminine and masculine and have little room for super drama and don't care for it. But, I have a host of friends who are really feminine, sweet, funny and enjoyable in ways that I tend not to be. I thought they were my friends. Finding out that I'm not acceptable, I'm intolerable to these girls, the ones that were constantly telling me to be more accepting and tolerant, reminds me so much of my family; the same irritating attributes that they all have. They constantly preach social liberality, but not at home. "Everything is acceptable, well... except for you." I struggle with this and I'm trying to find a way to reconcile it.

I'm struggling... people don't really change. Personalities are pretty static. So, what I tolerated in my "friends", wasn't going to change in their personalities and I knew it wasn't going to change. I recognized that I needed to accept their idiosyncrasies. What is different about mine that they fall in the unacceptable category. I need an explanation. Or perhaps, I just need to accept it and move on, in true liberal fashion.

Old Skin

I often wonder if we are really adults. Are we, or are we just kids in these adult bodies, still haunted by the same things that bothered us as children, better able to cover it, but still hurt by it?

Are we any sharper, any smarter? Or are we simply able to hide it better? Same tears, same tantrums, same likes, jealousies, just clothed in older skin with a better expression? We aren't adults. We are just kids, in different bodies.

Role Model? Can You Just Hit the Damn Ball?

In the aftermath of the cheating crown prince of the PGA, don't you find yourself wondering why we gave a shit?

I loved watching Tiger play golf. I didn't much mind seeing him in Nike, Buick, Tag Heuer, Gatorade, etc ads. I didn't watch Tiger because I was on the edge of my seat, awaiting his take on the virtues of a mid-week religious service for the purpose of maintaining a strong marital foundation. I was on the edge of my seat waiting for him to make an impossible drive, or an impossible putt.

I didn't count on Tiger for spiritual guidance, marital advice, or for f'n directions to the store for that matter. I counted on him to be the magnificient golfer he has become. I don't give a shit what he's doing in his private time and wonder why the hell anyone else does. Is anyone in the country actually expecting him to be an incredible human? He's an incredible athlete! Human? Well, that's questionable and you should be asking yourself why the hell you need him to be human at all.

Hit the damn ball, Tiger. Don't talk to me about anything more than golf or the products you endorse. I'm sorry, were you endorsing marital counseling? No? Good, I wouldn't trust you to give it. Hit the damn ball.

Missing

Missing: The strangest thing happens in your head when you miss someone, separated from someone.


In the separation, you recognize that you are happy to be separated, or unhappy to be separated. In the unhappiness, a comprehensive ache develops. You ache when you think about them.



It doesn't matter if you are talking about someone you are intimate with sexually, or just emotionally, like a child, a sibling, even a parent. But, when it is someone you are intimate with sexually, there are things that you will remember and the memories will make you breathless when you recall them; the brush of a finger, a particular look, a touch, a kiss. The memories can bring back the most intense, vivid sensations. Something really interesting happens in your brain. I want to know what those chemicals are... they make me want that person... they make me want that person BACK. That is the ache that I am referring to. That is the ache of missing someone, something; a part of you

Wooly Mammoth Climbing Kittens

I am on a team with incredible and diverse women & men. The men are great, the women are my best friends and I love'em.

We set out to conquer the hills and took'em like the 300 (before defeat). Our ride for a Saturday, created by the inimitable Micky McNair, began at Shoal Creek Saloon. From the Saloon we rode toward the Lost Creek, via Rolling Wood, (warm-up?). Barton Creek next, and on to a downward spiral to the bottom of Cuerna Vaca, so we could climb out on Rivery Hills. Then, into a headwind on Bee Caves, to 360 and the meat of the route to come. From 360 we turned onto Westlake... Toro Canyon, then The High Road. It sounds lofty, because it is! Off of High Road (a beast of a hill climb), we hit Terrace Mountain. Terrace Mountain is 5 "terraces". The first two make you think, "this is a bit of alright." Then, you hit the 3rd. Its a bit of a surprise after the first two. It hurts, really bad. The last two are just hard, but not as bad as the 3rd.

We came off of Terrace Mountain, with relief and hit the down on Red Bud, with a tailwind. Turning right onto Stratford, we climbed a few hills, (one that I was accidentally in my big ring for, wtf?), before the descent to Zilker and the pedestrian bridge over to Lake Austin.

Up next, Scenic & Mount Bonnell. Scenic isn't even a warm-up for Mount Bonnell. Mt. Bonnell is a steep baby, and long. Katik's and I were encouraging eachother to push up. I can never hold her wheel when she takes the lead. Fortunately, the backside is mostly down and I'm a descender (hahaha, that is really not a skill). Once over, we head quickly across FM 2222, and up a short bit of the other side of Mt. Bonnell, before Upvalley Run. Upvalley Run, to Mountain Villa; Mountain Villa to Ledge Mountain; Ledge Mountain to Cat Mountain... to Mesa and its all down hill and home from there.

YEEEHAAAA! Go Wooly Mammoth Climbing Kittens!