here you have it

all work and no play = ADD

things in my life lately seem to be falling together and simultaneously falling apart. it's been a year now since i've been back to school full time, and i've got to say, working one's way through college is fucking hard. this is my 4th semester in a row, and while i'm totally pleased with having spent the summer taking calculus, i'm afraid my attention span needed the break. i want to spend at least 48 hours alone in my apartment with popcorn and movies and no other obligations. i want to fall asleep on a friend's couch and wake up with no pressing deadlines other than brunch at lazy jane's.

don't get me wrong, i care about school, and this is totally where i want to be. i am currently working through the effed up university of wisconsin paper-pushing system by which i will eventually have declared an official major, which is exciting because it gives me some direction when registering for classes. hopefully, sometime this decade, i will graduate with a bs in nutritional science. and maybe a minor in kinesiology.

hockey is back into full swing again...

...

... which i would write more about because i love hockey like nothing i've ever loved before, and i would love to see you (yes, you) at a game some day, but my heart's just not in it right now.

i've got homework to do.

everyoneneedshealthcareEVERYONEneedshealthcareEVERYONENEEDSHEALTHCARE!

i have fucking had it with all of this political bullshit about healthcare for children. CHILDREN! what kind of sorry excuse for an asshole do you have to be to DENY HEALTHCARE to CHILDREN?!

as much as i disagree with almost everything that's come out of his office since he resided in one, i'm not about wanton political bashing, especially in a public space like my blog where i stand the highly likely chance of being counter attacked by another zealous blogger. what i am about to say is not general bush bashing, it's utter and complete disbelief at the actions of him and other republicans who call themselves public servants while also keeping a straight face...

(i am also not one to raise my voice or make excessive use of capital letters.)

bush fucking VETOed a bill that would give subsidized HEALTHCARE to CHILDREN. what the fuck is there to argue? i just read this article from the new york times,

"Democrats say it is crucially needed to help the working poor ... but many Republicans say it now helps too many people with the means to help themselves. ...and declared that the Frosts did not seem needy enough for government benefits."

who the fuck to you think you are to think that you have the authority to decide whether or not someone is WORTHY of the HEALTHcare that will determine whether or not someone LIVES or DIES? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

not NEEDY enough??

aside from the above mentioned article and the general knowledge of bush's hundred thousandth veto of everything useful that's come out of congress in the last 2 years, there's more fuel to my fire...

1. sicko. as much as i think that michael moore is inflammatory and annoying, he's right on with sicko. there were a few scenes in the movie which made tears of rage swell in my eyes, all of them had to do with regular and random people on the street in countries which have national healthcare expressed pride in a system that really did help EVERYONE. at one point, moore asked a well-to-do someone something like, "doesn't it piss you off that some guy who never worked a day in his life is getting the same care that you are?" and she looked like he had just spoken to her in a made up language. i can't even begin to do it justice. if you haven't yet, please see this movie. whatever your political views, this isn't a partisan movie, just watch it.

2. Major Problems in the History of American Medicine and Public Health. beginning with the foundation of the first volunteer (as opposed to municipal) hospital in 1751, there were enormous differences between quality and type of health care given to the rich and the poor. rich people were treated at home or at the volunteer hospital for every little cough and ache, while poor and "immoral" people were admitted to municipal hospitals, or "sick houses," where they would often stay until they just died.
"It was consistent, then, that admission policies at most such voluntary hospitals categorically excluded the presumed victims of their own misdeeds, such as syphilitics, alcoholics, and unmarried mothers."
the book goes on to say this about the invent of health insurance, which began in the 1920s,
"The schematic logic that divided medical care interactions into the specifically diagnosable and thus legitimately reimbursable, as opposed to the preventative or chronic, paralleled in another sphere the distinction between worthy and unworthy poor."

so FUCK YOU, federal government of the united states of america, for carrying on this centuries old bullshit about thinking that you have the power to decide who gets to have treatment and who doesn't, all the while profiting EXORBITANTLY from the money that hard-working-barely-scraping-by citizens spend on outlandish health insurance premiums and prescription drug costs. there's a special place for you in hell.

and you can go right along with 'em if you think that you deserve anything any more than anyone else.

this isn't the post i originally sat down to write

let me also preface what you're about to read by saying that, given the morbidity of my recent apocalypse post i am fine. no, really. i actually don't see it as morbidity so much as reality. ok? so email me if you want to, but you don't have to ask me if i'm ok, ok? i'm totally fine.

here we go...

when i started working at the shamrock bar, i knew that i was getting into more than just a weekend job. since i was introduced to the shamrock via my tuesday night summer softball league, i've noticed how tight the people are with eachother there. i wish i had better words to describe the feeling... it really is like family. felicia says it all the time, "you're my family..." ever since i started hanging out with gay people, the word "family" has been used regularly to describe the sort of innate connection that we homos have with each other. but there is something about the shamrock "family" that's even a little bit bigger than that, and i hadn't really gotten my head around it... until yesterday.

for as long as i've been an employee at the shamrock bar, john meyer's health was an issue of concern among the bar staff and the people close to us. john had been diagnosed with brain cancer right around the time i started. i didn't know him or his partner, dana, very well. i knew their faces and we exchanged pleasantries in each passing. this year, when i rode my first act ride, john and dana were right there every day on sweep crew and sleeping in the gym with the rest of us. it wouldn't have taken a genius to tell that john was suffering. and so, by proxy, was dana. i don't know a whole lot about the specifics of john's fight with cancer, but i know that he endured surgery and chemo and countless other torturous things that cancer patients go through. except that he didn't get to live through it. john died last saturday at age 44.

i was notified as soon as i arrived for my shift that night. we happened to be in the midst of a massive party in celebration of felicia's 20th year of employment. but before the night got rolling, she spoke a few tearful words to a packed bar in remembrance of john, and how he had been an important part of her family.

there it was again, "family."

i got the email announcement of the wake and funeral dates and times. i wasn't sure what to do. i had class during the wake, but could have swung the funeral if i hauled ass out of campus after my chemistry exam. i decided not to go, after all, i didn't really know the guy.

last night, toni came home from the wake just as i was getting home from skating practice. she showed me john's memorial thing, the one that's like a program for the funeral. the thing that struck me was that every single one of the pall bearers were shamrock bar employees. see, the way i understand it, the honor of pall bearer is given to the people who were closest in relation to the person being pall-ed. i was conflicted all night, should i go? aren't funerals for people who were super close to the person who died? i hadn't planned on going to the funeral because i wasn't close to john, but was suddenly feeling a weird sort of familial obligation to not only pay my respects, but to be there for those members of my family who were hurting.

a funeral, i have come to understand, isn't just about saying goodbye to someone that you were close to in life, it's also a place for coming together as a family and remembering and grieving and supporting.

a family, i have come to understand, is a group of people whose lives you've permanently touched.

the words, "i love you" i have come to understand, i have mostly taken for granted. someone once told me that if you say it all the time it loses it's meaning. and i used to believe her, but i don't any more because of the way i feel when eric or danno or felicia or anyone tells me any one of fifteen times on a given saturday night that they love me. also, i know that i mean it every single time i say it. to anyone. a hundred times, or just once.

i need to tell people that i love them more.

i wish i had rescheduled my exam so that i could have attended john's funeral. instead, i wore my dress blacks to campus in respect. when people asked, i told them that there was a family funeral that i wasn't able to attend.

so that's the back story. i hope that i was able to convey at least a half of what i'm feeling. in any case, here's the part that you need to not freak out about:

i'm going to write a will. here. not right at this moment, because i need some more time to think everything through. i just think that paying a lawyer is stupid, and nobody that i know and love would be such an asshole, even in the event of my untimely death, as to disregard the words that i am writing while i am of relatively sound mind and judgment. any one of us could die at any moment, i just want to have a say in how things go down after i do.

first: my funeral will be held in madison. this stipulation could change as my geographical location does, but as of now, it's gonna be madison. i've got more family here than i do anywhere else, and it is important to me that my families meet. i hope that it can happen before i die, but if it doesn't, i want my funeral to be like the first meeting of two biological siblings who've never met. plus, the turnout will be bigger if it's in madison. what happens to me after the funeral is up to my parents. sorry guys. i like the idea of having a huge drunken parade around the capitol and then putting my body, wrapped up in linen, on a wooden raft on lake monona and set on fire. i don't think that's actually legal. you guys should still have a huge drunken party, though.

second: pall bearers. personally, i don't think that anyone should feel either obligated to or not worthy of the task, so here's how it should be done: form two lines, everyone who wants to do it, the line should be as long or as short as it needs to be, stand shoulder to shoulder to shoulder so that you're facing eachother and just pass that box on down the line. you will be awarded bonus points if you can get the casket moved crowd surf style. also, if you can make a hearse that gets pulled by at least four bicycles, you get extra bonus points. the funeral parade should consist of as many hockey sticks, bicycles, and motorcycles as possible.

seriously.

i am so not going through the whole death ordeal just to get carted to my final resting place in one of those awful lincoln minivan looking things with the terrible gold trim.

my love to john.

"let me let you let me down again"

every time i close my eyes, i can feel your loose curls in my fingers, your breath on my ear. for weeks now, all of my dreams are of you. even little nap dreams when i doze off in the library on monday and wednesday afternoons.

why now? you've moved on. let me go.

...

actually, the fucked up truth is that when i wake up, i'm more sad that you're gone than i was the last time you actually left.

listening to:
the kinks : dead end street
(seriously, this just randomly came on my itunes. i know how to take a hint)

edited to add:
just in case you're wondering, the title to this post is a lyric from a song called 'when the angels play their drum machines' by a band called hefner.

this does not make good ice-breaker conversation

i can't remember a time in my life when i didn't think that the world was going to end. soon.

seriously.

this includes when i was a small child, before i was cognitively able to make a mental map of how to get across town from my house to my grandparents' house, and thinking that i would never survive if i didn't at least know how to do that. and even then, my thoughts of apocalypse weren't of a peter-pan-esque different world where there were no adults and kids lived in tree houses. it's always been the same sort of society-as-we-know-it-completely-breaks-down-for-whatever-reason kind of scenario: no communication devices, dangerous people, what am i gonna do? of course, ideas of what this looks like specifically have changed as i've grown up, to fit my ideas of what society actually is.

it doesn't stress me out, and it's not a paranoia or a fear. just something that's constantly in my head. i'll be driving down the interstate on my way between my parents' house and mine, look out over a beautiful and hilly southern minnesota farmscape and think, i wonder what this will look like 10 years after the apocalypse or if the apocalypse makes it too fucked up to live in the city, i'm totally coming here or i wonder if crops and livestock will still be trustworthy food sources after the apocalypse... hmm.. i guess it depends on the apocalypse... maybe i should learn how to prepare animals for eating. seriously, it doesn't end. (that was a pun.)

anyway, i'm just sitting here on my couch after classes, eating lunch before i start on my homework and making a mental list of all of the things that i'm going to miss after the apocalypse. i guess it goes without saying that my ideas of the apocalypse include my actually living through it, and also that this list excludes actual grief. anyway, here's what my head is doing right now...

in the event of the apocalypse, these are the things i will miss the most:
cheese
hot showers
clean clothes
reliable tele-communication
hockey
flushing toilets
general cleanliness
social order
drinkable water from the faucet
cold beer
a reliable source of relatively uncontaminated tampons

these are the things i will not miss:
money
coasties
washing dishes
a schedule
temperatures below 60 degrees F
working in customer service
my neighbors' dogs who bark all goddamn day

these are the things i should learn how to do before the apocalypse:
start a fire without matches or a lighter
prepare an animal for eating
distinguish helpful plants from not helpful ones
distinguish helpful people from not helpful ones
secure a premises
fix people

wow. all of this thinking about the end of the world is exhausting. i think i'm going to go take a nap on my safe and warm couch under a clean and snuggly blanket with my purry cat curled up on my legs. damn, pre-apocalypse life is awesome.

i totally understand now: homos aren't allowed in the u.s. military because the navy is physically unable to come out of the closet

... also, they invest heartily in the sex worker industry every time their boots hit the ground.
"During the First World War, the United States Navy did away with doorknobs on its battleships, in the belief that venereal disease could be spread by casual contacts."

- James T. Patterson
Disease in the History of Medicine and Public Health

it's amazing how lack of understanding and denial play significant roles in shaping the world we live in. i wonder how much money the navy spent on removing said doorknobs when their soldiers kept coming down with otherwise completely unexplainable VDs. i understand that this isn't the quite point the prof was trying to make in assigning us to read this essay, but it makes me love this class like no other class i've ever taken.

quote of the day

... goes to dan, who, announcing his departure of the shamrock bar last night/this morning, leans over the bar to where i'm washing dishes and says,

"i just wanted to let you know how much ass you kick. it's like cubic meters. goodnight!"

thanks for making my night, dan.

feelin' it (this is the corniest post ever)

it's been a long time, but i'm starting to feel like myself again. school and work and relationships and social navigations can be difficult when they're all trying you at the same time. but i'm starting to feel awesome again. i feel like i've just topped a hill and am getting my legs back and am starting that sweet downward acceleration into what looks like at least a 3 week straightaway.

or maybe it's that, ever since michelle gave me all those cheesy songs for the pillow fight last weekend, i begin every morning with eye of the tiger and pink's 18 wheeler, both of which can make a person feel invincible. (by the way, said pillow fight, organized by said michelle and myself, raised $1102 for the AIDS network, in addition to each of our ACT ride contributions!)

in any case, it's awesome to feel awesome.

"you can push me out the window
i'll just get back up
you can run over me with your 18 wheeler truck
and i wont give a fuck
...
you can run over me with your 18 wheeler but
you cant keep me down
cant keep me down
...
everywhere that i go
theres someone waitin to chain me
everything that i say
theres someone tryin to short-change me
i am only this way
because of what you have made me
and i'm not gonna break"

- pink : 18 wheeler

yes, this is the corniest post ever. oh, i'm so going there. this is what happens when i get home from an awesome game of hockey, just to hang out and get tipsy with a group of awesome people.

also, listen to imperial drag's staring into the sun
i don't pay attention to the lyrics, but that guitar and bass part are enough to make anyone feel awesome. it should be everyone's morning commute theme.

imagine what would happen to the world if we all woke up every morning feeling awesome.

ok one more set of corny and awesome lyrics, because this is my blog and i'm drunk and at least i'm not texting/calling you. seriously, it's 2am right now...

"how would it be if everything that you thought you knew
was turned upside down opposite from your point of view
how would you feel if the ground was really the sky
and all of this time you’ve been walkin’
when you coulda been flying
...
what if all the birds were flying just to show us
all the trees were really holdin’ the sky up
everything that you do matters somehow
what if heaven and hell was right now

how would it be if you really created your life?
stories you told, the good and bad, that they come alive
and how would it change if your words were like nails and wood?
you build your house, but you forget that it’s just a house
you can rebuild it
...
what if loving what you have is everything?
...
if you knew you could not fail
if the ground was really sky
would you stop walkin’ right now
would you let yourself
what if everything you think is the opposite of true
how would it change your life?
how would you change your life?"

-ellis : how would it be?

holy crap, here's a video!

(the radio edit is waaaay better than the live version. watch it anyway.)

and since we're already on youtube, check out the ditty bops, who i am going to see at the barrymore this friday!

"when you're standing in a puddle with wet feet
and your head is sore from pounding drops of sleet
when the cold and lonely hours put your heart to the test
maybe i'll be the one that you like best"

- the ditty bops : wishful thinking

ok, it's time for bed.

ACT 5: by the numbers (and then some)

1: number of times i wrote this post last week, made it beautiful, and then accidentally closed my browser window before the thing actually got saved, thereby losing it forever. was too busy to attempt a re-post until now. here 'goes...

307ish: miles ridden on my bike.

4: days.

140ish: riders.

around 80: crew.

around 220ish divided by 4: average number of people per day who became my family.

over 300,000: dollars raised for the AIDS Network.

35: my rider number.

2: times i cried (once for barbara mckinney, who is the mother of mike mckinney, who was a huge advocate for social issues and an ACT rider who died in 2006. once for rider zero at closing ceremonies. it's the bagpipes' fault.)

3: pounds of home made cookies that my sister and brother in law brought to me from minnesota after closing ceremonies.

about 100,000: hills climbed on the 4th day.

4: massages.

1: times i had the chiropractor "release" my left shoulder.

0.1: minutes it took the amazing and magical chiropractor to perform said "release." oh yeah, he was that good.

5: average number of messages that were on the email board for me every night.

3: average number of those messages that were from jayne.

20: dollars found on a random country road that i actually rode back up part of a hill to retrieve. i later returned it to a woman who had used an apparently unreliable pocket to carry something like $100 cash in, and somehow lost all of it at some undetermined point along that day's route.

and then some:

people keep asking me why i would do such a thing as beg friends and family and strangers for over $1,100 just to then ride 300 miles on my bike. seems lose-lose, right? so i helped to raise a ton of money for an amazing cause. reason enough, right? actually, no. i've heard chatter about the ACT rides for the last couple of years. it's an amazing experience, it's an amazing cause, yeah, yeah, yeah. honestly, there really wasn't one single event that resolved me to want to ride ACT5, i just did it. one night, studying, alone in my apartment, i went to the ACT5 web site and read through it again for the 50th time. this time, i clicked on "register" and didn't look back. the next day, i went to the shamrock bar to have a beer with gerry, who is also a rider. about half a second after the words, "i officially registered last night" came out of my mouth, felicia dropped what she was doing to tearfully smash me in between her boobs. she thanked me for riding and told me that she loves me for the journey i had just sent myself on. incase you've been waiting, here's the punchline: i started to tell felicia that i had just signed up because it felt like the right thing to do, even though i don't personally know anyone who is infected or affected by HIV or AIDS. she cut me off with a tender gasp, shaking her head, "oh yes you do, bri, if only you knew." and then it hit me. it could be anyone. my eyes looked out across the room at barstools full of strangers and friends. my stomach turned and my eyes fogged a little. it's everyone. felicia hugged me tight again, and i hugged her back. we sat down finished our beers.

so the ride:

yes, it was hard. but it was completely supported. stops with food and drink every 10 or 15 miles, massages at lunch and dinner, over 200 people spread out over the entire route to cheer eachother on. it was kindof great, actually. my only responsibilities for 4 whole days were eating, drinking, sleeping, showering, and biking. even then, my bike was taken care of when i was off of it, my luggage was lugged when i wasn't using it, and all of my food was prepared for me. brilliant! by the middle of the 2nd day, i actually started feeling nauseated when i wasn't on my bike and moving. you know, that feeling you get when you step on to solid ground after you've been on a boat all day? by the 3rd day, it was so bad that i could only hang out at pit stops so long before i felt sick, a feeling which went completely away as soon as i got back on my bike. by the end of the ride, i couldn't sit still long enough to make it through dinner.

yes, my ass was sore. actually, for the first two days, it was the very very sensitive tissue around my very very sensitive, most anterior "girly part." but after some posture adjustment and regular applications of the most amazing "chamois cream" ever, the swelling went down and i was fine. it was, however, the 4th day and several days thereafter that my ass reminded me, with a vengeance, that i had just ridden 300 miles on it. it was the weirdest delayed reaction ever.

yes, it totally sucked to get up at 5am just to be on my bike by 6. but sunrises were amazing. my favorite was the beginning of the second day with sunny mist over huuuuuge fields of corn and hay on softly rolling hills. i had not, however, planned for 6 am chill. even in august, it's apparently downright cold at the crack of dawn. i was fortunate enough to be lent a pair of arm warmers for the duration of the ride, by an amazingly kind woman who had packed them and a jacket. what a thinker! it just goes to show that over packing is a good idea. i also later became the recipient of a pair of leg warmers by another generous over-packer who took pity on me when i came into camp the day before soaking wet and nearly hypothermic (my palms were purple!) from the cold cold rain. shout out to the medics who wrapped me up in tin foil-esque mylar blankets like a frozen burrito, and to the woman who fetched my backpack to the locker room so that i could have warm and dry clothes after i was led directly from the mylar to a hot shower. it's amazing how random acts of kindness seem to save your life.

no, i didn't curse lora the route planner for all those hills. while it was completely heartbreaking to get to the top of a particularly nasty country road hill just to breathlessly look out over 3 more just like it, the small gestures of support that you get from your fellow riders and crew members wouldn't be the pillars of strength that they become without the complete emotional and physical exhaustion that 47 miles of repeated trial creates. in my mind, it's a sort of connection to the people i'm riding for, whoever they are.

yes, ACT5 did change my life: random acts of kindness, physically overcoming hills and fatigue, hugs, being told "thank you" and "i love you" a hundred times in 4 days, the senses of accomplishment and appreciation and camaraderie, and a hundred thousand other little memories of tears and smiles and my gym floor home and each and every one of my friends and family who were there in one way or another to lend a hand. my pores are filled with inspiration and a sense of purpose, the temporal limits of which have yet to be seen.

yes, there are links:
channel 27 news footage
storybridge.tv footage
the official photographer's site
actride.org

yes, i'm gonna post a picture right now.

behold: team takin' it easy, or: team takin' our sweet ass time
michelle, allison, yours truly, torch (aka, emily), jamie, victoria, vicki, katy, dave

and

yes, ACT6 is in my sights (see: words, famous last).

an incredible journey

everyone who knows me has known for some time that i am riding my very first ACT ride this year. felicia cried and hugged me, lots of people said "wow" or "good luck with that" in the sort of way that one does when the event sounds less appealing than mowing the lawn on the hottest day of the year, and lots more people pledged money to help me raise over $1700 for the AIDS Network.

it's less than 12 hours to opening ceremony, and i've registered, numbered my bike and helmet, and run my jersey through the wash. after watching the introductory/safety video at registration tonight, i can easily say that i am more proud to wear the jersey that i received tonight than i have ever been of any other jersey ever.

physically, i'd say i'm as ready as i'm going to get. i don't do a whole lot of distance biking, but i do commute (about a half an hour each way) every day on a one speed. i've also had about a liter each of water and gatorade today, and am working now on loading up on carbohydrates while i pack my bag.

emotionally, i'm ready for a rollercoaster. check this out, from the official site actride.org

who is rider zero?
rider zero represents those lost to HIV/AIDS. at the end of the day's ride, a bike without a rider is led into camp by a small group of people, which usually changes from day to day. the tradition is for riders and crew, all of whom are already at camp, to come out to the driveway and form a line on either side while rider zero is led in. an announcement is made in the school to let people know the last riders are coming into camp. whether you are eating dinner, setting up your bed for the night, or you are still in your riding gear, it is considered good form to drop what you are doing and join the tradition. it is a quiet moment when people reflect on the day and the people we're riding for.

last night, someone who i don't know came into the bar where i work with a check and wanted to give it to bob, the bartender who has ridden the ACT ride for the last 2 years, but can't this year. so bob gave the check to me. the handwriting was small and cursive, exactly like my grandma used to write, and in the memo line were the words, "in memory of brenda." i don't know the person whose name is on that check, or brenda, but i'm doing this because she can't.

i have a voice and i have an able body and i'll use it to help ease suffering.

so, to everyone who has donated money, bike parts, and labor to me and the rest of the ACT riders: THANK YOU.

wanna see it for yourself? volunteers and people to cheer on riders and crew are always in demand. visit actride@earthlink.net.

time to finish packing and try to get to bed early. 300 miles i can do, but getting up at 4am? suck.