…being home for a few hours. Now that I’ve washed my underwear and rearranged my luggage a bit, it’s off on the next voyage. This time I’m off to Greenville NC (maybe the most boring college town in the world) for a conference presentation.
Dagnabbit, I just wanna watch TV for a little while. Is that so much to ask?
Exhausted, with much unpacking, sorting, and catching up to do, all just in time for company Sunday night.
Coming later, if I have time:
For now, though, it’s bed…
Interesting article from the Toronto Star about bullying coaches.
I never played team sports as a kid. In fact, I did everything I could to avoid sports. I pretty much still do. A big part of that is that I just wasn’t interested. It wasn’t my “thing.” But I suspect a lot of it also had to do with the fact that, since I showed no natural ability or inclination, I was never treated in a way that encouraged me to want to stretch myself and learn about options other than football, basketball, etc.
Face it. Gym class is traumatizing for pretty much everyone in junior high. But for a queer kid who wasn’t very good at sports and who was already socially challenged and mercilessly teased on a regular basis, it was a fucking nightmare. And a bunch of redneck, meathead coaches who just didn’t “get it” made things much worse. While physical education classes are supposed to help you develop healthy lifelong habits, they had the exact opposite effect on me, teaching me that sports and physical fitness were something to be feared.
There were actually some things I was relatively good at–gymnastics and track come to mind–but as a boy, I was pushed into competitive team sports I had no talent for and no interest in. Not surprisingly, I faced a lot of ridicule. The asshole coaches and the forced curriculum were no help whatsoever.
My point here, however, is not to show what jerks my junior high PE coaches were (OK, maybe it is part of my point) but to show what a missed opportunity junior high gym classes can be for some students. I could’ve been inspired to do healthy things that I enjoyed, but instead, I developed a fear of all things athletic. The minute I was no longer required to take physical education classes, I stopped. I’ve never set foot in a gym since, and there’s a pretty good chance I never will.
The whole process didn’t do my general social development a lot of good either, but that’s a story for another day.
Therapy session today, one of the topics of which was conflict over sex. No Freudian cliché there, huh?
Actually–and I promise not to lapse into David’s Therapy Blog mode here–life is dramatically more agreeable for me than it was two years ago. There was even a discussion of working my way off the antidepressants. I was never a really heavy dose anyway so it might not be such a big deal, but the potential for upsetting that delicate balance still makes me a little nervous.
The big goals for me over the past couple of years have been:
It seems to be working. Mind you, I’m still completely batshit crazy–which is good since I want to be able to use mental health (or lack thereof) as a defense strategy in court at some point in the future should the need arise. But at least I know how to deal with the crazy now and it’s not so overpowering or debilitating.
Now if I could just get rid of some of the weight I’ve put back on since I started enjoying things (specifically eating) so much again…
As ever, I’ve been doing this for way too fucking long.
March 2010: Pittsburgh, eerie foreshadowing, and duct tape. And why is the SNCA conference always at some really inconvenient time for me?
March 2005: New computer, ska librarian rendezvous, and assorted quips. Not my best work, I must say.
March 2000: Apparently the most important thing in my life was the new Krispy Kreme. Or Fred Phelps. Or something else. Otherstream in it prime, maybe. Maybe not.
At the close of a busy week:
…I’ve decided to try to start actively having a website again. It may just be the Vienna Sausage talking, but I kind of miss it. I also kind of want to start playing DJ again, but that’s a separate issue.
I reserve the right to change my mind About both of these things in the morning.
In honor of Gary Dahl (1936-2015), inventor of the Pet Rock:
The Care and Training of Your Pet Rock Manual by Gary Dahl by Petting Rocks
…for this long weekend that catches me by surprise every year. Since I’m a nonbeliever, I never know exactly when it’s Easter until something suddenly reminds me I don’t have to go to work on Friday.
That said, I’m still not at all pleased about that whole “religious freedom restoration act” thing, so if you guys could help take care of that before you leave tomorrow, that would be great.
