I Is Idiot

You know that staple in cartoons, where someone is running off a treadmill and goes off the end? And you’re left looking at the screen thinking, “Who on earth could be that stupid?”

Yeah? Well, guess who.

I will clarify: I didn’t fly off flailing then faceplant the floor. That would have been spectacular to watch, but I don’t think I’d be able to return to that gym again. So no, no bone-breaking.

To be fair, I didn’t expect a stellar training session. I’ve been quite ill lately; I missed karate and a gym slot last week, and I had felt like death itself. While a little better by now, I’m still suffering from a hellish chest cough. Which, as you might imagine, is aggravated by aerobic exercise. So in a pretty logical move, I asked my mother who had already been what we’d be doing.

And I quote, “Oh, there’s only a bit of aerobic at the start, and it’s not too bad. You’ll be fine.”

Said “not too bad” aerobic bit was actually run 1K as fast as possible, rest for 2 minutes, and then do it all again. Now in my opinion, that’s pretty bad, so I was understandably nervous. But I’m a tough gym-ster, so I hopped on the treadmill and did my 1K anyway. After my 2 minutes of rest zipped by, I sucked it up and carried on. I had to hold onto the handles of the machine, but that was okay.

Unfortunately, about .3K in, my breath gave in and I began sputtering like an old exhaust. Naturally, I let go of the handles while I coughed. This was a mistake. You see, my eyes closed instinctively while I was coughing, so I wasn’t aware of what was happening for those few seconds. I was however, vaguely aware of a strange sensation. It took me less than a second to realise that I was falling.

Oh god no.

My eyes snapped open. I leapt into the air. A quick landing. Bounced back up again. Grabbed the handles. Ran. Thanked the Lord I never hit the floor.

Honestly, I’m kind of amazed I handled it so well, considering my reputation as a clumsy fool. Other members of the gym – previously unacquainted with my… uniqueness – were, however, very alarmed by this. The poor man on the adjacent treadmill almost took a tumble himself. But I finished the exercise, so it’s all good.

So yes, I’m an idiot.

This isn’t even the first in my line of impressive gym recoveries. You’d be astonished at how often I have to save myself from a box-jump disaster. Clipping the box, tilting the box, outright missing the box… I’ve done it all. My only real strategy is to jump out of harm’s way, so if I ever encounter a problem where that isn’t possible then I’m in serious trouble. But so far, so good.

There isn’t really an aesop or message for this post, if I’m honest. Maybe pay attention on the treadmill? Don’t hurt yourself in the gym? Just don’t go to the gym, period? I really have no idea.

This was just so unbelievably stupid that I felt the urge to share it.

As a man…



As a man of old school culture, you spend your entire life learning what it means to be strong. We grow up learning principles from our fathers that make us who we are as men. We learn to love, serve, help, and protect those we care about. I for one was brought up by a man of principles, my father was very hard on me and my brothers because he knew what it meant to be strong in this world. We were shaped into men of integrity, taught never to back down from evil, never to turn away from someone in need, never to let our emotions get the better of us, and most importantly, to never compromise… Even in the face of armaggadon. We were also taught to respect women, honor our elders, and to always put ourselves second. As a man, I acknowledge what I was taught, and…

View original post 107 more words

Nothing to Lose

Fellow non-conforming, fandom-driven, nearly-socially-inept general mavericks should relate to this, I think.

So this month, I started Sixth Form to do my A-Levels (whole other post coming about that, watch this space). My four relatively local (i.e on this island) friends, however, did not; they literally all ditched me to go up to the college on the other end of the island. Which was okay, because they’re doing their own thing and carving their own paths and yadda yadda yadda, yay for them. But see, they’re all on the same campus; I am alone on mine.

Bar one new ish-friend and a few acquaintances-I’m-too-shy-to-trouble-with-my-company, I’m basically left to my own devices. Leaving me with tons of time to study, which is awesome and really useful, actually. So why am I complaining?

Because I’m still worried about seeming “weird” for my personality.

Which is completely ridiculous. I sit by myself at lunch, I sit alone in the library and I basically refuse to speak in class to anyone who’s not a teacher, but woe betide that someone should think my Fluttershy badge is stupid. Reading fanfiction is perfectly fine and entertaining, but if anyone even glances over my shoulder, I’m locking my phone down ASAP and throwing it into my bag as if it has burned me with the shame.

Only, I’m not ashamed. My only regret in terms of fanfiction is how freaking weird some of my darker experimental pieces (A Second Chance, Things You Can’t Be Taught, etc) ended up, but even then I wouldn’t want to delete them. Just, y’know, put some cautionary notes before them. At the end of the day, they’re part of me, and now I can tackle darker and more mature themes with less weirdness 🙂

So my basic point? There’s no reason at all for me to feel bad about my interests or my traits. I’m completely okay with them and they’re not harming anyone. Which is why my crippling fear of people finding out about them and thinking I’m weird entirely stupid.

But I didn’t write this post to just leave it unresolved. No, I wrote this because I have had a fraction of an epiphany.

Here are the facts:

• I am okay with myself and my interests

• My close friends and boyfriend are okay with me and my interests

• There’s nobody else I’m close enough to be deeply affected by the opinion of if they aren’t okay with me and my interests

In short: I have nothing to lose.

I might as well just sew all my cool fandom patches onto my new leather jacket (it’s fake, don’t worry) and parade them, because why the eff not. I might as well read my fanfiction and fangirl over new episodes, because why the eff not. I might as well write my coursework from a pansexual POV like my own, because why. The eff. Not.

What’s the worst that could happen? My acquaintances don’t awkwardly sit on the other side of the lunch table and ignore me? Nothing to lose.

Now, I do appreciate that other people with this issue may be of a better social standing than I am, so maybe you have a little more to lose than I do. But honestly, if those people are going to reject who you really are and what you really like, then they probably weren’t worth keeping in the first place. Trust me, I learned that the hard way; remember Carly because we’ll be coming back to her in the future.

At the end of the day, you’re you. You can’t change who you are or what you like; those kind of things change and develop on their own, but you can’t force them. As long as nobody’s getting hurt (and you’re not breaking the law or anything), then there’s nothing wrong with you and you shouldn’t feel the need to hide yourself.