What I Am Not

I am not a blogger.

I’m not like Mer or Jess or Bea – apparently you have to do more than have a blogging account and a monosyllabic name to be a real blogger. You have to talk about things and to people and not in flow-of-consciousness drivel that that loses its commitment to your cause a third of the way through.

I am not a cyclist.

Mine is the much classier blue one.

I don’t ride like I know what the heck I’m doing. I ride like a motorist who just happens to be on a bike. And I don’t even have a bike anymore.

I am not a low-maintenance girl.

I have a huge problem with monogamy and emotion – I’m not good at practicing either of them. As it turns out, processing emotion is actually an integral part of forming and sustaining healthy relationships. Even when the emotions you’re processing are negative and you find out that what you thought was a house actually started as a trailer-home. Ideally, you’re supposed to deal with that and go on feeling happy fuzzy bunny feelings for the person who doesn’t want you in the way that you want them to.

I am not a photographer. ( Or an artist or a musician. )

No matter how badly I want to, I cannot take properly ex- or composed pictures. I can’t draw. I can’t play any instruments and I can’t really sing. I am not in any way artistic. ( Writing crappy poetry whose only value is shock value doesn’t count. )

I am not okay. #lyricalwisdom

No matter what I do, I will not be a cuter dyke than she is or sexy enough to engage him in the ways I want to. I will not be the child prodigy that everyone told me I should be or the incredible force that I always wanted to be.

The truth is, going to Egypt and living in England and sleeping with someone just because you want to don’t make you edgy or interesting or cool. Seeing the Eiffel Tower and eating cucumbers with lemon juice and salt doesn’t mean you’re worth anything. Having a list of 101 things that you desperately want to do so you can look back and say “See? My life was worth something! It was worth sky diving and one-thousand paper cranes.” doesn’t validate your existence or mean you did something great in your life. Ultimately, it just means you spent your time pursuing things instead of people, or people instead of relationships, or relationships instead of happiness. Or that you’re overly fond of lists.

Probably the last one.


Dear Person-Who-Thought-It-Was-Okay-To-Steal-My-Bike:

You. Are. Insufferable.

I realize your bike is crappy. What? Did you think I wouldn’t try to ride the bike you left after you FREAKING STOLE MINE?!

I realize that the gears don’t work, the chain appears to be very worn, the tires are flat, it lacks the lights required to make it road-legal and the brakes are about as likely to stop you as key lime pie is to provide you with a well-rounded exfoliation. ( **Pro-Tip: Key Lime Pie does NOT make a good exfoliant. I know, cuz my girly-friend told me so. )

I understand that your bike sucks.

That doesn’t mean you can have mine.

In your defense, I’m sure it’s very dangerous riding around on the bike you had and you were looking for an easy way to provide yourself with a safer and more reliable form of recreational transportation without putting a burden on your already-struggling family. Perhaps you saved your mom and dad from having a terrible argument about what an expensive mistake you were by circumventing the conversation where you ask for a new bike because yours is such a piece of shit.

Maybe you needed my bike for worthwhile pursuits like going to the Dollar General ( which less than half a mile away and which takes a grand total of about three minutes to walk to ) and harassing both customers and employees while you steal candy bars because your crack-addict mother spends all the grocery money on drugs and booze and you don’t know enough about nutrition to aim for the whole wheat granola bars instead.

And I had just luxuriated in having to actually look for a parking place and finding one next to other bikes like mine.

Or, perhaps, you’re just a gigantic douche who feels a sense of entitlement to things that aren’t yours because “finders: keepers.” Assuming this most likely scenario, I will refuse my right to weep and instead seize my chance to berate your idiocy.

Just Monday I was bemoaning my lack of skillz on a bicycle and happily looking forward to the many cold and bitter months ahead of me continued improvement with continued practice. And, on my ride home, I was actually quoted as saying “WHEE!!!” while I felt terribly indie and positively flew down that huge hill that getting over him is easier than.

And now, after 20 minutes of unguarded charity, I am without a bike. Oh? Didn’t you wonder what I was doing? I was cleaning my grandfather’s stove because he’s old and his heart is failing and he can’t do it himself. Yeah, that’s right. You stole the bike of a mentally-fragile 20-year-old who relied on that “toy” as her ONLY MEANS OF TRANSPORTATION to get from her full-time job to her second job because she is so poor that without the second job she can barely afford to eat. But now you don’t have to worry about missing an afternoon of harassing traffic. Good for you. Prick.

I am going to Austin this weekend for my cousin’s wedding. I very much looked forward to buying some new clothes, another pair of Converse and maybe a journal or something while I was down there. Thanks to you, I’m spending that money on a new bike. Annnd, I get to experience the unique and terrifying thrill of riding with my grandfather for the next few weeks/months it takes for me to be able to afford it.

This will not save you.

Also thanks to you, I was in the worst mood I’ve been in for nearly two months last night when my poor boyfriend had to go around wedding shopping with me for an hour and a half to six different retailers who all ( save two ) reaffirmed my belief that I’m too fat for nice clothes. Can you imagine the strain this put on our relationship? If you can’t, let me help you: We almost split up. OVER YOU. We are a young, developing couple. He’s never had to face the full brunt of my temper and I’ve never had to deal with his lack of milkshake-getting skills. He handled the situation admirably and, at the end of the night we had a lovely talk about how I occasionally cannot be cheered up, even by the most complex of calculus problems and how that doesn’t reflect badly on him, it just suggests that I do occasionally show emotion.

In future, think before you blindly thieve. If not because you want to spare someone like me the heartache and emotional torment of losing their only means of transportation and almost splitting up with someone they really, really like, then because of this simple fact:

When I find you, you are going to rue the day you ever thought you could take someone’s bike. Particularly someone who needs it.


Destroyer of Bike Thieves

New Blog is New; Lower Calories

You may have noticed a small change on the blog.

The name, of course :p

And the headline.

The blog suffered a little redesign because I have taken over as sole blogger. It’s pretty exciting stuff, I think. Maybe. Hopefully.

Or it may end up with me adding as many people as possible again. We’ll see.

I get to go wedding shopping today! And I might be able to buy a 14. You know why? My size 16 jeans are freakishly huge as my weight continues to plummet to the super low 195. Granted that’s not actually super low. But it’s lower than 216. So…WOOT! #GoDru!

What do you think of the new theme?