Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Louisville Zombie Run

Alert! Alert!  Zombies are loose in Louisville!

On upcoming Sunday, if you have to be specific.   There is a Zombie Run in which there'll be hundreds of runners who'd run and  avoid being caught by zombies.  Nothing to worry about, except for the zombies on the path, hiding and waiting for an opportunity to grab a runner.   Zombie kids are the worst- looking cute, harmless, but they certainly run faster and use their innocence to lure in the runners. And they are most frightening to behold, in my opinion. 

As a volunteer, I'll be out, handing out water...errr vaccination hydration supplies for the runners, who are participating in the Louisville Zombie Run.  

At least, that'd keep me out in the sun, feeling sorry for the runners and socializing with zombies- might be courteous to let 'em bite me once or twice.  After the run, there'll be the Survivor's Quarantine Party, full of food, DJ music, and partying with both survivors and zombies. 


On a somber note-   what happened last Monday, with the two bombings in Boston-  that's horrible.  Unthinkable.  Especially during a historic event, where thousands come to watch their friends and family relatives run.  It was supposed to be safe; unfortunately, it wasn't.     What gave me hope, is that among the chaos,  people came out to help.  They gave coats to runners in shock; they handed their cellphones to runners to call in with their friends or family.  Runners ran to the hospitals to donate blood.  Even now, on Twitter and Google, there are people who opened their houses to runners and relatives.   

Boston had seen its battles, starting with the Revolutionary war.  It stood strong against the English. The city stood steadfast as it sent sons and brothers to the Civil War to fight, knowing that many would not return.  Boston's women were already strong and respected long before women's rights were even addressed.  The city welcomed the GLBT community with open arms.   And so, Boston is the literal representative of freedom and strength.     Despite the bombings, Boston is not knocked down. Among the confusion and fear, Boston locals turned around and ran toward the screams, to collect hurt victims in their arms, to hold weeping  relatives, and to stand steadfast and say "You messed with the wrong town"...and they aren't kidding.  

So in that mind, Louisville Zombie Run runners are running for whatever reasons they have registered in, but we are also running for Boston...even when zombies are chasing after us.  

Monday, April 8, 2013

Pins and pining for something out of reach.

Two hours.

How much time was consumed while I was re-pinning and liking pins about infertility and childlessness on Pinterest?

Two hours!!

Staring at the pins on my infertility/childlessness board, questions popped up

Validation of my experience? 

Finding my happy space? 

Acknowledging that it did truly happen to me?

Seeking community to affirm that I'm not alone?

If so, why 369 pins?   Isn't that a 'tad' overmuch? 

I like to collect things, but thankfully, they are manageable. Definitely not a hoarder.

I have a strict list of rules that I follow, to reduce risk of saving everything.  One rule: if certain things don't fit on the shelves, or box, or  closet, I have to give one or two things up as a trade.

That's not so on Pinterest.   I find myself consumed, finding more and more.  Why?  I have other boards, such as horses, ice cream, cadbury eggs and Star Wars, yet I keep returning to infertility boards to see what pins had been posted, either for me to pin on my board or to click on 'like'.

That Infertility/Childlessness board used to have 502 pins, but to make me feel less obsessed, I broke it down into three infertility/childlessness boards: general, blogs and humor/sarcasm.

It has been a year and two months since the surgery, and it seems now these days I'm burying myself in  reading books on grief and living with childlessness, writing in my journal, painting, and staring outwards, feeling empty, and fanatically collecting pins for the infertility board on Pinterest, and all that.

What am I doing?

This little dark voice whispered, "If you had a child, you'd not be spending all this time online."  

Pesky voice.  However, there's the sense that is true.

Now that I found out that I couldn't  have children, I felt I had to give up a lot things that either I enjoyed or prepare myself to have children, such as going to zoos, (children), street fairs (children), art/craft classes and sewing/crocheting baby blankets, a lot that I did not realize until after the doctor told me I couldn't have children. And then children and babies were everywhere, and so I constantly bumped into 'em.  At malls.  At plays.  and big events like Derby festivals or music festivals.

So, I started to hide.  I stopped doing things I enjoyed especially when it would put me within distance of children.

I hid behind my laptop.  Books.  DVDS.  My porch garden.  Painting.  Hiking.  Pinterest was one of many reasons why it's easier to hide behind.  Same with reading blogs and ebooks.  Ditto for photography and writing in my blog.

It's easier for me to pin up things that I understand, to pin for something that is out of my reach, to verify that I have the reason to do so, to keep the pain to myself, yet telling the world in my way, I hurt.

It's easier to hide behind the curtain.

Now that I said it, I look outward at the outside, seeing the flowering trees, the darkening clouds and a couple walking their dog, and I find the world....  intimidating.

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Perils of presumption

Was out with a male friend recently for dinner.  

I saw that there was new drinks on the menu, so I wrote down what I'd like to order.   

The waitress paused after she read my note, and then she pointed vaguely toward me with her pen. I looked down and said "what?" 

She then gestured, as if pregnant (two hands drawing a bump in air over the stomach).

Is she friggin' serious?

At that point, the guy burst out in laughter and I shot him a look, I'll deal with you later.

It was one of those days that I had no patience. That's why I needed a drink, after what I had gone through during the day.  

So I angrily pulled up my shirt and showed the scar from hysterectomy.  And to add, my body shape is pear-shaped, so no matter how one'd put it, I'd always look bigger in the lower part of my body. 

The waitress flustered and apologized-  I wrote to her, NEVER presume that every woman is pregnant, even if they look pregnant.  Even if one is pregnant, it is none of her business.  It is up to the owner/manager to decide whether they can sell alcohol, not waiters/waitresses.   The manager came over and I showed him the note as well. He apologized as well, and said that whatever we order would be on the house.   

Nevertheless, my mood and appetite were spoiled.  We left. 

P.S. the guy wasn't obviously happy, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.