The Center for Reproductive Rights is a global human rights organization of lawyers and advocates who ensure reproductive rights are protected in law as fundamental human rights for the dignity, equality, health, and well-being of every person.
We envision a world where every person participates with dignity as an equal member of society, regardless of gender.
Where every woman is free to decide whether or when to have children and whether to get married; where access to quality reproductive health care is guaranteed; and where every woman can make these decisions free from coercion or discrimination.
So. Yeah.
I’ve never before tried to fundraise here and I’ve been more careful about posting my real name and photos of my face here. I suppose I should just go back and edit old entries, but I don’t care. If you really want to go THAT far back, well, you deserve a medal. Or maybe a stiff drink? A lobotomy? Maybe a pony?
Anyhoo.. my team name is OfFRC (FRC is my running club’s name.) and you can donate on the team’s page. If you want to, you could donate to me as well, if you know how to find me. My avatar is currently the same as my FB profile picture.
Also, there is a girl on my team with a very similar first name and my last initial. That is not me. If you click on me, you’ll see my full name.
If linking to the fundraiser outs me, then so be it.
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I just tried to log into my Wendell Gee gmail account with the user name WendellGrr1985.
Dude.
I’m not even angry at anything right now.
Except, maybe, my writer’s brain.
The words, they will not come.
I have all kinds of world building done and I’ve sketched out some bits, but actually writing the story is kicking my ass. I’m like a paragraph into the actual story and…nothing.
- - - - - - - - - -
I guess since I started talking about running, I might as well finish by talking about running.
Intervals.
I know I talked about them before, but I tried again last night.
I walked for about 8 minutes of the first mile because I couldn’t get the damn interval timer to work and then I started. I used 15 sec run and 45 sec walk as I didn’t feel like killing myself with a 30/30 - I’ve not felt well this week at all. Bunch of causes. No cures.
I did a mile at 15 sec run / 45 sec walk. I ran at 4.0 mph (15 minute mile) and walked at 3.3 mph (18 minute mile). I ended up averaging a 17 minute mile. A mile slower than Disney requires - and I am NOT interested in crossing paths with the balloon ladies in November.
For the last mile, I upped it to 15/45 with a 4.3 mph run (14 minute mile) and stayed with the 3.3 mph walk. I averaged a 16:42 mile.
I understand the underlying math and physics behind intervals, but I didn’t feel like I was moving faster. As a whole, I had one of my slower 5Ks ever, but I couldn’t walk at full speed while I was fucking with the app.
It’s amazing to see how they work.
I’ll be hopping on the treadmill soon - I’m waiting for The Ick to pass and then I’m going to attempt a 10K with intervals. I’ll probably stick to the 15/45 ratio at 4.0/3.5 (17 minute mile) for most of it. Maybe I’ll bump it to 4.5/3.5 for the second 5K. I always manage to finish with negative splits. It just takes me FOREVER to get going.
For future me: pace tables found here and run-walk calculator found here .
- - - - - - - - - -
I’m not sure what does it for me - thinking about the Kozak dancing in the video (because OMG it cracks me up!) or the beat - but it is one of my favourite songs to run to.
You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.
September 04, 2023 ::
9:36 AM
I certainly don’t write for the money.
In case you were wondering, the 2012-2022 NHL CBA is 540 pages of the driest legalese to ever exist.
I don’t even know how I got a copy of it, other than the fact that I worked in the NHL. There’s no real reason for me to have it, but I’m glad I do.
I make no secret of the fact that I write a lot of M/M fan fiction or read a lot of it.
Seriously, my Kindle Unlimited account history bounces between horror and gay fiction. I tried joining two different book clubs… I figure life is hard enough; why suffer through a book club’s suggestions? Read a biography? Why? Nobody interests me that much.
Anyhoo… professional writers will say that you need to read a ton to be able to write better. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve always been a reader. Maybe that’s why I love to write. I write the stories I want to read. The ones that only exist in my head. Do I ever finish them? Rarely, but the writing is what’s important. Even if I have six WIPs right now, it feels good to write until I get bored with the plot or stuck because my characters don’t play nice.
Wow. That went in a completely different direction.
Let’s try this again:
I make no secret of the fact that I write a lot of M/M fan fiction or read a lot of it.
Seriously, my Kindle Unlimited account history bounces between horror and gay fiction. “Professional” writers will say that you need to read a ton to be able to write better.
So.
For whatever reason, there’s a TON of hockey romances being written. Gay fiction is not immune to this phenomenon, and well… I’m in the middle of a quest to read EVERY. SINGLE. BOOK. in this very specific sub-genre. (Sub-sub-genre? Whatever.)
Which brings me full circle to the CBA.
I hate world building. HATE IT. It’s the main reason I love fan fiction. Unless it’s an AU, there’s no reason for it.
Everyone who would read Harry Potter fan fic knows the stories, either from the movies or the books.
Everyone who would read Teen Wolf fan fic is probably familiar with the MTV show (not the 1980s movie. Oh, fuck, no.) - except for me. I had NO idea what I was getting into when I followed some random tag on AO3 and wound up reading Sciles. (YUK!). There was a deep dive into the show and yeah, I did it ass backwards, but I quickly fell in love with Sterek, Steter, Stetopher. (OK. So I’m obsessed with Stiles. What about it?)
Taking Harry Potter out of Hogwarts and putting him in a non-magical, hockey, universe seems relatively simple. He and Draco are on separate teams, they hook up over the All-Star break, then they hook up every time they play each other… smexy times happen, and then they wind up on the same team, and not so smexy stuff happens before the guaranteed HEA.
Except.
I can’t write the same sort of hockey fic the others write - where they gloss over the world because people have a basic understanding of pro sports. Some of them write beautiful descriptions of the game, but leave out everything and anything that helps show the true behind the scenes life of a hockey team.
I’ve worked in Community Relations, worked on the arena management side, and worked in an accounting department for both an arena and a team.
I understand entry level contracts and the salary cap. I understand the fear of being traded after making a city your home. I understand the pressure of winning a Cup.
I understand players and the game in a way that the other authors don’t.
And it’s leading me to get bogged down in world building.
I know it’s worth it, because it’s what I feel is missing every time I read one of the hockey books. (See? I write what I want to read.)
I’ve got team names, mascots, schedules, QMJHL / OHL teams, prep schools and colleges… I’m working on the NHL Draft and teammates right now.
I’ve got Harry being from Roxbury, a sort of rough Boston suburb. He’s poor, living with the Dursley’s and generally looking to escape - just like the ‘real’ Harry. Draco, on the other hand, is rich and privileged, and also looking to escape.
It’s important to me that people know how the Draft actually works and what an entry level contract looks like. What being bounced between the minors and the NHL looks like because that’s Harry’s path through the world of the NHL. A lot of those things will inform his decisions and make him the person he becomes. (Much like learning magic and facing down Voldemort every year forced him to become Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World.)
Writing something this detailed is so outside my comfort zone that I’m actually kind of enjoying it. I do need to plot the fuck out of it, though. Otherwise, nothing would make sense and I’m writing the same kind of ‘they meet, fall in love, become afraid to come out, love conquers all’ bulllshit I’m currently reading. (Yeah. I said bullshit. I’m trying to find that unicorn in all the gay hockey fiction… but we all know unicorns don’t exist. Won’t stop me from reading every single book, though.)
I’m also fighting the point of view issue.
In one of my HP fan fic groups, there was a HUGE discussion over POV in fics. Apparently, they have to be 3rd person limited since that’s how JKR wrote the story. (Fun fact, the first chapter of the first book - Philosopher’s Stone, thank you very much - is actually 3rd person omniscient; it’s a quick and dirty bit of world building, but as effective as anything I’ve ever come across.)
I like writing in 1st person, 3rd person omniscient when the mood strikes, but I can’t figure out how to tell this particular story. Do I write it strictly from Harry’s POV? Do I sprinkle in a little Malfoy? Does Harry tell his story in his own words or is it told from a distance?
I’m leaning towards 3rd person limited, because reasons, but it feels too limited to me. (HA!!!!)
I don’t know.
I sat down to write this entry thinking it would help me figure shit out, but now I’m more unsettled than before.
Oh well.
Maybe I’ll work on some Ukrainian stuff and maybe the website I started like a month ago and let this stuff get worked through subconsciously?
And I devoured that fucker in between bouts of swearing at iTunes / Apple Music / whatever the fuck Apple is calling it now. DEVOURED.
YES. IT IS SO GOOD IT DESERVES SOME SERIOUS ALL CAPS LOVING. AND THE REALLY GOOD LUBE.
There is something amazing about her writing, and whether it’s Steter / Stetopher / original characters, she always delivers. I think the majority of my AO3 Teen Wolf bookmarks are her stories.
I don’t remember how I found out about it, but now I see that she’s co-written an entire series of LGBTQIA+ stories with Discontented Winter. (And - rabbit hole alert! - this just made my entire fucking, um, 15 minutes.)
I’m going to need to get a tumblr account again just to follow those two.
Just like I had to get a new twitter account for the balloon ladies tracker.
Every time I think it’s OK to get rid of an orphaned account, AS SOON AS I HIT “DELETE MY ACCOUNT”, shit happens.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
An entire lifetime ago, when I bought the new MBP, I decided to shelve the old iMac. I didn’t need two computers on my desk; not when one of them basically served as a jukebox.
I took my little LaCie drive that had my iTunes library on it, (bought a FUCKING ADAPTER. For fuck’s sake, Apple. STOP IT.), and fired up the Music app.
Holy Jesus motherfucking crispy Christ on a fucking bike.
I had multiple versions of songs. And I don’t mean twelve different versions of R.E.M.‘s “It’s the End of the World…” - I have twelve of those because it’s on Best Ofs, bootlegs, and studio albums.
I mean I have six different “Spin, Spin, Sugar” files in my hard drive, each one sitting happily as a line in the iTunes song listing.
Apparently, the app made a habit of creating a music folder when 1) it downloaded a song and 2) every time it decided / forced me to “organize” my library.
So, I had music folders in music folders in music folders in music folders in.. you get the gist, yes?
And every single one of those folders held MY ENTIRE MUSIC LIBRARY.
I filled up a massive external hard drive with music because Apple decided to duplicate my music folder every fucking time it felt like it.
I’ve been cleaning it up in bits and pieces because when you have a dozen files named “01_Intro” you have to be VERY FUCKING CAREFUL. (Why do bootleggers all name their files like this?!?! I mean, I love the consistency, but I can’t tell if that intro is from Boston ‘95 or Boston ‘03. Just sayin’...)
I’m also overwriting the metadata on the music files - I HATE transliterated Ukrainian, so I’m putting everything into Cyrillic. Now, everything shows up in iTunes the way God intended it to. (But seriously, fuck record labels who use transliterated Ukrainian on albums.)
I’ve been buying new music on the phone and then downloading it to the computer. THEN, I have to go into the new, clean, pretty, hard drive, REMOVE THE MUSIC FOLDER, and put the songs where they actually fucking belong.
It doesn’t seem to like the fact that my music folder is “LaCie/iTunes/Music” - I’m pretty sure that’s what’s confusing things… but when I have the location as “LaCie/iTunes” Apple rejects the location and claims it can’t find my iTunes library.
I have some random files still to find and I am missing entire R.E.M. bootlegs, so that’s going to be a search. I also need to pull the playlists off the iMac at some point.
But, I’m considering the task done.
I can listen to music when I’m sitting at the computer again.
I’ll take that as a win.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In other news, I only finished the 5K and the 10K this year. Dopey attempt #2 shat the bed.
(The husband was there to watch the epic fail, but that’s a story for another time… it only took a $50 gift card to Pure Hockey (which I bought before he became an unsupportive ass thankyouverymuch) for him to understand what it means to support someone. grrrrrrrrrrrrr)
I know there’s a lot of factors at play and the asthma seems to be the biggest issue. I was struggling to breathe after pushing myself for 9 miles and a medic practically forced me off the course.
I hated the pulmonologist I saw, so I have to find another one.
I’m also trying to figure out what I do about running… I had a goal to move every day, even if it’s just a mile on the treadmill in my jammies.
And I promptly threw that plan out the window and have been sat here, licking my wounds, and refusing to even think about the treadmill.
2023 and I are not getting off to the best start.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Oh wait.
I lied.
I’m a lying liar who lies because…
I HAVE HIT A MUSICAL TRIFECTA.
I’m seeing Matt Nathanson (Mike Nickerson? Matt Petty? Whatever the fuck his name is.) in February. Dropped a shit ton on the pre-show hang, too. Love those extra moments with him. Even if I can’t remember his name.
I’m seeing БУМБОКС(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) in March. They’re finally coming overseas. I mean, I forgive them for cancelling on last March’s show, and I hate that this a fundraising / awareness raising tour, but they’re FINALLY coming.
And and and and and and and and and and and and…
MOTHERFUCKING ОКЕАН ЕЛЬЗИ IS COMING TO MIAMI IN APRIL.
Bonus: Антитіла is coming overseas in the fall. No idea where or when, but I’m there. Even if I have to get on a plane.
Still pissed I missed KALUSH because of Wine and Dine, but…
Бумбокс, Океан Ельзи, and Антитіла are the Ukrainian OG Three and I get to see ALL THREE OF THEM THIS YEAR.
I don’t think I’ve ever been more satisfied, music wise.
(Also, I think it’s time to be frightened by the amount of time I spend on the internet. I wanted to find out what “a trifecta but four” was and, wow, that was the first autofill suggestion google came up with. I don’t know if I should hang my head in shame over that or laugh hysterically.)
(Spoiler: I laughed hysterically. And fell off the damn chair.)
To be honest, I had forgotten about it and scheduled a dog grooming appointment in that time slot instead.
For what it’s worth, I was completely overwhelmed at the amount of information there was. It just seemed like too much work for a one-off. Yeah. Despite having a bunch of pocket friends who play, I’m just not interested.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I thought I’d end this with my most favourite songs from the four bands I’m seeing this year, but some of them have already been posted. And besides, how do I pick my favourite????
I’m just going randomize that shit and give you whatever the magic wheel spits out. (Just like a Mike Nickerson show!)
We’ll start with The Infamous Wheel just so you get the joke. (Bonus! We were at this show.)
When the sun is getting lower // and your wildest days are done // and they ask you ‘bout a photograph // from back when you were young // well, baby, you don’t have to tell ‘em // what we did when we were us // but when I think about it // I hope you blush, just a little bit…
Скажi менi, чому не можу // Забути те, чого нема.
Tell me why I cannot // forget what I do not have.
Хворі ми хворобою однією // На щастя ще не вигадали від неї панацею // На голову мов злива впала ця вразлива манія // Діагноз – меломанія, в нас з вами – меломанія
We are sick with the same disease. // Fortunately no panacea for it hasn’t been discovered yet. // This vulnerable mania has fallen on my head like a rainfall. // The diagnosis is melomania. We all have melomania.
[Melomania: A singular passion for music, that is beyond all reason. An abnormal love of music. A hobby or even an excessive fanaticism for music.]
Люби вільно, цілуй поволі. // Прощай швидко, або ніколи. // Часу мало, маєш дійти. // Хочеш правди? Мусиш знайти. // Люди далi прокидаються. // Люди далi не ховаються. // Нова глибина напроти нас. // Отакий цiкавий час.
Love freely but kiss slowly. // Forgive faster or never know it. // There’s a few time for you to come // You need the truth so find it now. // People keeping waking up. // People no more hiding now. // There’s new deepness here ahead. // Interesting the time we have…
There’s a key on the MacBook’s keyboard that lets me switch between the keyboards for different languages… I’ve got a switching shortcut programmed for my bluetooth keyboard, but I always manage to go from italics to Ukrainian when I don’t mean to. Since I’ve changed my computer usage and mainly work glued to two monitors, I can get rid of the shortcut and just press the button on the Mac.
ЦРН вшв ерфе ефлу ищ дщтп ещ аштв? Um, WHY did that take so long to find?
Exactly.
- - - - - - - - - -
For Christmas, my husband gave me an early “present”. He’s not going to Marathon Weekend with me.
I had talked about skipping out, true, but in the end, I want to see how far I could go.
I mean, it might be for the best, but…
When he’s around, I feel bad going to the meetups. I missed hanging out with the RTI crew during Wine and Dine because of him. But… it’s like that every time we go somewhere. One of us is always awkward and it is uncomfortable as fuck for the other one. That’s why he didn’t go to Homecoming with me. It’s why I don’t go to Ohio with him.
Also, I’m a complete shit during the Disney races. I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m a petulant brat.
Also, also, I don’t like going to the Disney parks. They’re overcrowded and I’m just not a Disney fan, but I’m too tired and cranky to go to Universal.
He’s using the excuse that he doesn’t want to go to the parks because they suck.
Which, OK, fair… but when I told him it wasn’t about going to the fucking parks, it was about supporting me, I got an “I know. I’m sorry.”
He’s also paranoid about the dog.
Guinness is getting old and it’s starting to show. His right leg doesn’t really work the way it’s supposed to anymore. He doesn’t freak out when the doorbell rings. He can’t get up on the couch anymore.
And now, he’s starting to lose control of his bowels. He’s taken 4 or 5 craps in my car on the way to day care. This last time, we were at the light right before the parking lot and he got up and… well. Yeah. And then he sat in it. Because it wasn’t enough to crap, he had to rub it into the blanket. You try cleaning out a car with some wet paper towels and then having to drive to work with the windows open and hope that airs it out. (I should really start carrying that special cleaner we bought for this specific purpose.)
Last night, he woke the husband up and didn’t even make it out of the bedroom.
So, Guinness is his other reason… in addition to all that, there’s a distinct change in the dog’s personality after he’s been boarded for several days (not a good one.) And, let’s be honest, the husband doesn’t deal with death well. Which puts me in the awkward position of hoping that the dog has the kindness to kick the bucket once I’m home (assuming that his expiration date is in the next few weeks as the husband seems to believe.) Personally, I think that the dog will live forever because I hate paying for day care and, on a good day, Guinness is nothing if not pure, unadulterated, evil.
I’m afraid to tell him that I had a dream last night where Guinness got hit by a car and died. I also thought at one point this morning that he stopped breathing.
I’m not saying a damn word because it will make everything worse, but I knew when it was time to let go of both Arsey and Apache. I’m not saying it’s his time… I’m just saying I’m on high alert. My dreams aren’t always harbingers, but sometimes they are.
I mean, fuck, I’m nervous, too, but he’s an eleven year old German Shepherd. Our Aussies both made it to thirteen, so I pray he’ll make it to that age.
Even with that all taken into consideration, I’m pissed off, disappointed, and hurt beyond belief that the husband doesn’t want to be there for me.
So… long story short, I’m more miserable than ever. I’m scraping rock bottom and it’s beginning to show.
It also doesn’t help that this is my first year-end at the new job and I have a fuck ton of stuff to do by January 10th (according to the old Controller’s schedule.) I’ll be at Disney from the 4th to the 9th. I have a feeling I’m taking my laptop… since I’ll be alone any way, I don’t feel too bad. BUT… it also makes me want to revert to my original decision of just eating the $600 for the Dopey bib and staying home.
I don’t fucking know any more.
- - - - - - - - - -
In happier news, I’m working on making some significant changes in my life. Are they still New Year’s resolutions if I decide to do them before Christmas?
I haven’t really embraced the three words concept for a few years. I’ve just gotten lazy, but I think it’s time to bring them back. (Disclaimer: the three words idea is from my beloved friend CC’s book, “Amazing Things Will Happen”. You should really read it.)
SO.
For this year, my three words are:
PHYSICAL: A little too encompassing, maybe, but all the things that fit under this are related. I want to get past this roadblock with my running. I want to lose weight. I want to finally kick Dopey’s ass in 2024 since it’s a given that it probably won’t happen this year. I want to feel better / get into a shape that isn’t rotund. (Although, I still don’t get anything positive out of running. I want a runner’s high, damnit! I demand the ability to consistently have a runner’s high for Christmas. You hear that, fat man?)
MENTAL: Also a little too broad, but again, when I put together my list of things I wanted to manifest this year, I kept finding things that are related. I want to read more. I want to engage in hobbies I used to love. I want to learn Ukrainian. And Polish.(Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment. Polish is supposedly a very difficult language to learn.) I want to do the things that make me feel whole and since my brain is my superpower… I want to keep it active. Zoning out to the Sims every night isn’t doing it and I can feel a difference in the way the depression affects me. Sometimes, being as self-aware as I am is a motherfucker.
SOCIAL: I want to make friends. It’s as simple as that. I lost my high school and college friends when I moved to Ohio. I fought hard to get some of them back when we moved to New Hampshire, but some of that was short-lived. Then we moved to Florida and the tenuous grasp I had on any of those friendships continues to lessen as the distance gets in the way. I have two friends in Florida - both from Facebook groups - and neither friendship has really taken off IRL, even though we live relatively close to each other.
And, related to word number three - what the holy fuck have I done?!? I signed up for a learn to play D&D session through the FRC.
ME!
Playing Dungeons & Fucking Dragons.
(I’m laughing my ass off at how that came out, btw.)
I have never been interested in D&D. NEVER.
But.
It’s a way to connect with more people. It’s a way to maybe take some of those random online names and make them friends.
There’s a few more ideas that I’ve had, but signing up for an online learn to play D&D class is a big enough jump for this weekend.
On that note, I’m going to grab my copy of Beginner’s Ukrainian and fight my way through the first chapter.
I was told that the course - up and down the Hollywood Beach boardwalk - was beautiful and shady and quick.
I’ll agree that it was beautiful before the sun came up and there was a nice breeze. I’ll disagree with the shady and quick. As far as I’m concerned, that wonderful shady stretch just meant that the humidity was trapped by the trees that bestowed their shade upon the sweltering masses who decided that running in South Florida is a Good Thing. And, of course, running through soup doesn’t necessarily equate to speed.
It’s the “Fire Hero 5K” - a double whammy because it was held on September 11th - and there were firefighters in full gear running the fucking thing. 3 miles in 20+ pounds of gear. Nope. I wanted to pass out just looking at them.
I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, most of them not good.
But let’s start with a good one.
My husband and I are firm believers in the fact that a guide book with only take you so far. At some point, you need to put the book down and explore. We spent almost the entire week in Lviv just walking around, just my bad Ukrainian and a city map to make sure we didn’t get too lost… and we had some of the best experiences that way.
Same during this last trip to London. We took the train out to a friend’s so we could meet up and do the Harry Potter Studio Tour together. While we were waiting at the “station” for our ride, we popped into a little cafe right there on the platform. The guy saw our Arsenal caps and… we got an education on Gunner history and lore. AMAZING. (But, he ended up being outshone by the fan seated next to me at Emirates Stadium. I learned… things.)
Also, during this last trip to London, as I so loudly put as we were walking down the road towards Buckingham Palace, WE SAW THE FUCKING QUEEN.
Fun fact - if the Queen (or I guess King, now) is in residence, the Royal Standard flies above the palace. Do not ask me where I learned that. I cannot tell you… it’s like it’s always just been in my head, waiting to be useful. Anyway, the Royal Standard was flying over Buckingham during that trip. We were going to - I think - be tourists and watch the Changing of the Guard again. (I will always try to do the touristy things, but I will not revolve a trip around them unless I absolutely have to.) As we were walking, we were just chit chatting and trying not to run over the stupid American tourists in front of us who were walking stupid slow and buried so deep in their books and maps that they didn’t realise a car was coming towards us. A car that had a flag on it. A flag that just happened to the the Royal Fucking Standard. THE QUEEN WAS IN THE CAR. AND I SAW HER.
I also let anyone within hearing distance know that, “OH MY GOD, THAT’S THE MOTHERFUCKING QUEEN.”
(Shush. Let me have my random moment of being an obnoxious American tourist.)
So yeah… kind of surreal to think that Queen Elizabeth is dead. She seemed… indestructible.
I don’t know. The other stuff that’s been weighing on my mind… I thought I was ready to talk about it, but I’m still not. Two people know about the panic attack at the gas station and the google search that destroyed my Friday night and most of Saturday. Just two… any more and the thought of sharing that kicks up another flight or fight reaction.
I’m not ready to talk about Phoenix Day, or my Ukrainian lessons… none of it.
So, this post was pretty pointless.
I guess most of them are, but this one is even more so than usual.
