Frisbee Challenged

I can’t throw a fucking frisbee. I know this sounds petty, and you’re probably wondering how the hell I’m going to fill this page ranting about something so stupid. This could end right here, and I’d still feel like it’s legit.

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I can’t throw a frisbee. The end.

It’s embarrassing. I want to play disc golf, and I can’t. I play the first two rounds before I’m so mad and annoyed with myself that I just bitterly walk along and refuse to play. I’m not a competitive person, I don’t care that I would lose… I care that my disc is going into the pond. I care that I actually try to be good, and there are only a few select things I do that for. It seems like it’d be so easy. I’m all like… just point where you want it to go.

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WHY CAN’T I DO THAT!? 

Cartwheels also fall into this category but I’m not talking about that. Diving face first into the ground counting on my arms to keep my chubby ass suspended, hoping I land back upright is clearly harder than flicking a disc outta my hand. Just once, I want it to soar flat.

Sidenote/Fun fact: A long time ago,  my older sister and I were in the backyard at my dad’s house, I think it was around the fourth of July. This was one of the many times I tried to toss a frisbee around casually. This story, however, is not about my ability to throw it, it’s about my lack of skills for catching one too. In my defense, it was dark out… who plays catch with a frisbee after dark? She flicks the disc in my direction and I’m not sure if it was my lack of grace, the lack of light, or my lack of attention… but the frisbee hit me right on the bridge of my nose. I don’t even know if I put my hands up in an attempt to catch it. It was just like…

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Minus the beach.

F is for Frisbee Challenged: A to Z Challenge

Married White Female, Looking for a Healthy Debate

Our world today allows us to create our own skewed version of reality. Social media, every single day, throwing anything and everything that we already agree with in our faces, and news feeds making us feel superior and right. How can I be wrong? I’ve been blasted by twenty-two articles in a span of ten minutes showing my opinions as fact at this point.

I put myself into check sometimes with reminders that this also applies to me. It’s not easy to keep an open mind and truly listen to ideas that push against what has been smothering you since Facebook and other social media outlets started targeting their audiences with sponsored content. Your entire social media existence is warped, and that’s why we feel so strongly about issues – it’s being fed to us on a silver platter. Sure, it’s warped to your liking – but that’s the problem.

Healthy debate is a treat nowadays. I have a hard time finding a person with opposing viewpoints to have a sensible conversation with; to explain, in a normal tone of voice, why they feel a certain way and then allowing me to do the same. Believe it or not, when I express myself, I enjoy a (respectful) contradictory remark. I cross my fingers and hope that this person hasn’t been bitten by the social media bug. That maybe, just maybe, a respectable, low-key exchange of opinions is possible.

The vast majority of humans who utilize social media would rather pump their fists and bang their chests, knowing that you won’t jump on their bandwagon. The opposing viewpoint does not matter, whoever says theirs the loudest wins – and they still hate each other.

We used to debate, we used to try to be open-minded to differing opinions. Not anymore, because we don’t even care enough to educate ourselves, let alone other people. It’s too easy. Fake news is real news, and real news doesn’t stand a chance. The speed at which information gets relayed to and from is faster than we, as a world, can keep up with… and that will be our demise.

It used to be common conversation to imply that everyone was entitled to their own opinion without pure madness erupting. That was fun. Suddenly, no one is listening. No one is interested as to why their neighbor voted the way they did, why they are choosing to not vaccinate their children, why they are for, or against gun reform. Instead of instantly judging, if we could take the time to just ask, why. 

We would be in such a better place if healthy debates were still a common occurrence. Whether you’re Republican, Democrat, Independent, white, black, Mexican, Catholic, Atheist, young, old – this reality we live in affects us all in a range of different ways, but here we are.

Next time you’re in a position to have a real conversation with someone who doesn’t look at the world the same way you do, take it and embrace it. Listen to what is being said and respect that even if our ideas are polar opposites that we’re still human beings, coexisting.

Gym Class

 

The only things I enjoyed in school was socializing and English…that’s it.

Actually, I also enjoyed the perfectly under-cooked Otis Spunkmeyer Chocolate Chip Cookies you could get…for breakfast, too. Clearly, I went to school before Michelle Obama started fighting childhood obesity.

Math and I? We hated each other, if there was ever a reason I shouldn’t have graduated, math would be the guilty party. How I never failed a single math class is honestly beyond me. To put it in perspective, I took my placement tests for college and was placed in a math class that focused on whole numbers and decimals… I would work my way up to fractions. 

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So, I went to beauty school to avoid it all together because fuck whole numbers.

There was only one class I dreaded more than math and that was gym. Uggghhhhh, I still hate it. I cringe when I look at my kid’s schedule and notice it’s gym day, and I don’t even have to participate.

As an adult – sure – I understand why it’s important for children to learn the value of movement, exercise, and team activities. I’m not saying that the class should be vetoed or anything, shit, I’m probably even in the minority of people who hated physical education.

I don’t care though, here goes my rant.

Gym class is one giant master plan to embarrass the living hell out of the unathletic and clumsy. Can we talk about the Presidential Standards For Physical Fitness Tests?

I never met any of the standards; I was below average for everything – push ups, sit ups, and don’t get me started on the damn pull up bar. I’m still carrying a grudge for being forced to hang from the pull-up bar even though I told them I can’t do any fucking pull-ups.

If someone put a gun to my head and forced me to choose a favorite portion of these tests, it’d be the sit and reach:  

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Fly myself forward as fast as I can in hopes that the force will be strong enough to keep that slidey thing moving after I fling backward.

How about the mile run? Some kids really pushed themselves but not me, I never ran a single mile at any point during my school years. Queen of the 27-minute mile, right here. Sometimes it was a sore ankle or the dreaded period cramps, but most of the time it was just a straight snotty protest.

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Can’t make me…

Floor hockey, soccer, football…basically any sport or activity that include things being kicked, thrown, or smacked in my direction was (and still is) bad news. If someone made the questionable choice to give me said object my goal was always the same: get rid of it as quick as I can, no thought or effort involved.

If that means handing the football off to the opposing team because they happen to be closest – I’m just trying to survive!

Speaking of survival: Dodgeball. What I actually liked to call it is, “I-Hate-My-Life-Ball“.

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Am I the only one who gave eyes to the other weak girl on the opposing team? You get me out without injury and I’ll return the favor. Oh? My turn to enter the game again since someone caught a ball? I usually let other kids go in front of me until the teacher noticed and forced me back into the whirlwind of foam balls.

Hated it.

The rope climb? Why? Why is this important? This should only be mandatory for adults who would need to perform this for a job. Firefighter. Police Officer. Military. Body Builder. If a chubby seventh-grade girl can climb a hanging rope – she deserves extra credit. As if hanging from the pull-up bar wasn’t shameful enough…

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I tried really hard to think of some things about gym class that I didn’t hate and all I could come up with were those little 4-wheeled-scooters and the parachute; both of those were in elementary school before the fear of people’s opinions though – so they don’t count.

Rant over. 


Disclaimer: I know, I’m thirty-something and I’m still holding anger over this… maybe I should go back to therapy.