{"id":1172,"date":"2024-12-30T00:33:49","date_gmt":"2024-12-30T06:33:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/?p=1172"},"modified":"2025-02-19T13:56:56","modified_gmt":"2025-02-19T19:56:56","slug":"im-a-hockey-player-not-a-figure-skater","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/2024\/12\/30\/im-a-hockey-player-not-a-figure-skater\/","title":{"rendered":"I’m a Hockey Player, Not a Figure Skater"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\n
\n
\"\"
stitch afraid to go to vet<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
\"\"
stitch side-eyeing me<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

I once again forgot what day it was. I whipped up a few pages of this last week, but never posted because the week was so busy. Every time I had a few minutes to just sit down, I didn\u2019t want to spend them doing things that required thinking. Sorry to the fans, but hey, it was Christmas. Consider that my holiday break. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m going to keep what I wrote last week, and just edit it a bit to fit within the timeline and stuff, plus I\u2019ll add some more about what happened this past week. It was a lot, all of which I\u2019ll doubt I\u2019ll fully expand on, but still prepare for a long one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Without further ado, the blog:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I may have projected too close to the sun. Projected as in \/\u02c8pr\u00e4\u02ccjek(t)\/ – ed, as in I may have been overambitious with my projects. But what\u2019s new?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last week, my secret project consumed most of my time, along with my work projects. I am a bit tired of making Instagram reels. But it\u2019s okay, it’s over now, and my secret project has ended up cool\u2026 I think.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I haven\u2019t worked much on THE F1 video, but I think I\u2019ll aim to finish the slides this upcoming week. I believe that is possible and therefore it is. I think I could at least start the script for that, too. My goal for the video is to be informative and entertaining, which means being a lot of info, condensed into not a lot of time, so it\u2019s not too long and boring. Sounds easy enough but, as we know, I like to talk a lot, especially about F1, and my ramblings about F1 are often nonsensical and never-ending, so it\u2019s been somewhat of a challenge to restrain myself. Nonetheless, it will be done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The White Boy Awards are coming soon! I finished the survey, and sent that out already, so hopefully I\u2019ll be able to record the ceremony soonish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My fanfic has been put on pause, sadly. I want to finish my other projects before I go back to writing because when I write a story like that I tend to be all-consumed by it. There is much to do on the schedule, so I cannot allow that to happen at this moment. So sorry to the fans. Also! I\u2019m still awaiting my damn email. AO3, please. Please, AO3, let me make an account. No, no, perhaps this is best. This way I have one less direction from my other projects. GOD but I miss Jacob. Let me see my boy again. (No one has taken him from me.) Please, I beg you. (In fact, I am the one who has hidden him from myself.) Please. (He\u2019s right there.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n

I had a sleepover with friends! WOO! It has been a hot moment since I had a sleepover, let alone with two people. It was such an awesome night, honestly. We ate some good grub, saw some Christmas lights, went ice skating, and ended the day watching sillies. Yay!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every time I am with my friends I feel so incredibly lucky. I have found some hilarious, kind, genuine, wonderful people and they just so happen to like me. How lucky is that?!? I have to be honest, I used to think this was never going to happen for me. Not that I thought that such people didn\u2019t exist, I just thought that I would never become friends with such people. To get into this would be sharing way too vulnerable information with the world, but I\u2019ll just say that at one point I thought that having multiple good friends just wasn\u2019t in the cards for me. I am an introverted weirdo who either comes on way too strong or doesn\u2019t know how to start a conversation, so making and keeping friends has never been too easy. So now I feel so incredibly lucky to have some great ones.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes I feel like I should have more friends because that\u2019s what watching ensemble TV has taught me, and because every other freakin\u2019 person has, like, 20-person friend groups. I might talk about this more later on in this post, but for now know that (most of the time) I am perfectly happy with the friend group I have now. I feel blessed, even.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Okay, enough of that mushy stuff. Can we talk about ice skating? Let\u2019s talk about ice skating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Guys\u2026 Ice skating forced me to think about my identity! Y\u2019know I feel bad because I feel like all I do here is say that I can\u2019t talk about something then go on to talk about it vaguely\u2026 but it\u2019s gonna happen again because this is absolutely not a fully fleshed thought, but it\u2019s one worth mentioning, I think. Here it goes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I like hockey, I think. I\u2019m not too sure because I am yet to actually sit down and watch a full game. Well, technically I\u2019ve gone to hockey games, but I do not remember those. I was piccolo. In recent times, I have, however, had a few YouTube-watching stints consisting of hockey compilations, and I occasionally bump into the RPF (real person fiction) side of hockey, so I feel based on that I know enough to say I like hockey\u2026 probably.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hockey is likely going to be the next sport I get into. This year I fucking MOVED into F1, and I got a bit into American football. I learned the basics and kept up decently enough with the Bears. They suck! Anyways, I think hockey is logically the next move. Allow me to explain why.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In my time becoming a sports fan, I have realized a couple things about sports, sports fans, and myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

First, being passionate about sports is cool. I used to think it was lame because HOW could someone get so torn up about something so fundamentally stupid? Not stupid like jock = dumb dumb, but stupid like pointless. Bitch, you made the competition up! Why are you getting worked over it? But now I realize that being passionate about sports is equivalent to any other passion. Stupid? Yes. But I mean, you tell me how my doll collection is smart. Some passions may have more use than others, but bringing joy is kind of the bottom line of them. Therefore, be passionate about sports. It\u2019s cool. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s also fun as hell. The competition may have been made up, but it\u2019s real now and so is the monkey part of my brain that just wants to destroy destroy destroy. I am the Romans watching gladiators fight for my pleasure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Speaking of fighting for my pleasure, I like the aggression part of some sports. In football, aggression is obvious. For F1, the aggression comes in the form of dangerous driving and behind-the-scenes drama. I hear that hockey is similar to both of them with fighting that happens on and off ice. There\u2019s no dangerous driving, though. Unless the zamboni driver decides to get wild.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I went ice skating with my friends, I noticed myself copying the hockey players more than the figure skaters. It seems that hockey skating is more similar to roller skating, which I am comfortable with, so it was more my speed. Speaking of speed, whenever I went fast, and did that hunched-over, bent-knees maneuver\u2014well, I haven\u2019t roller skated in a while, but it reminded me of that feeling. Untouchable. Unstoppable. Free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then I looked around me. And saw the girls my age in their tight, fashionable clothes, with their light, perfect hair and fair skin, doing their twirls before returning to their boyfriends who could pass for their twins. I saw a high school hockey team full of the same face copy and pasted onto the same pale, tall and skinny body; a sea of different shades of brown mop hair. I saw who the world wanted me to be, and I saw who I was not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"\"
a comment about an F1 driver. guess who!<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n

Since becoming a sports fan, I have learned that it is hard to be a sports fan when you are not a cishet white man, but it\u2019s also hard to be one when you are not a cishet white woman either.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m an anomaly in the F1 fandom. Fans consist of sports bros\u2014or the most hypermasculine men to exist who would ask me to name three drivers if I told them I was a fan\u2014and thirsty girls\u2014or the most horny women who use Sabrina Carpenter as their face claim in their self insert erotica fanfiction. Most all of them are white and would not hesitate to call me a slur.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

There are other fans like me\u2014funny dorks, people of color, and queer people\u2014but in terms of fan content, you\u2019re most likely to see the Sports Bro or Thirsty Girl gaze. Which, hey, sometimes I am an annoying gatekeeper, and yeah, I do thirst for the driver, who wouldn\u2019t? But at the end of the day, I am not like them. I am not straight. I am not white. So even occasionally interacting with that type of content feels a bit off. And having it constantly shoved down my throat makes me feel\u2026 I don\u2019t know\u2026 Alone, unloveable, and dysphoric.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s difficult to exist somewhere where there is basically no one else like you. It\u2019s weird basically being a part of the Boy\u2019s Club, though never being fully allowed in. Over time, it hurts to see romance stories where the lead never looks like you. You start thinking\u2026 Maybe I should change. The boys will never accept me, so maybe I should try to be more girly. Maybe I should go blonde and wear blue contacts. Maybe I should change my name. Maybe if I was white things would be easier. Maybe if I was straight things would be easier. Maybe if I was different more people would like me. Maybe if I wasn\u2019t me someone would love me. Maybe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And it hurts because you don\u2019t want to have those thoughts. And you don\u2019t have them very often, but sometimes you are sick of being in the middle\u2014of always having to be the oddball out. Not quite this, but not quite that. But pretending to only be either is just that\u2014pretending. You are the grey space. The one people can never see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Football isn\u2019t as cishet white as F1, but it is incredibly American, which is to say conservative, but I don\u2019t really participate in fan culture around that, so I manage. Hockey is<\/em> just as cishet white as F1, I hear, though I know it must be gay-ish too given the RPF reputation it has, so I\u2019m sure I could find a way to make that enjoyable. Where there\u2019s a will, there\u2019s a gay or whatever.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Last week, I finished House<\/em>!!! I don\u2019t know what to do with my life now. B.H. and A.H.. Before House and After House. Yup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

HOUSE SEASON 8 SPOILERS<\/strong>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Season eight sucked. Unfortunately. As mentioned in the previous post, two lead characters left and we got to randos to replace them. The final arc that led to the finale felt rushed and a bit out of left field, but maybe a part of that was on purpose?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wilson getting cancer is ironic as hell. It makes the whole story a tragedy. Goddamn. He\u2019s an incredibly kind and intelligent oncologist\u2014the head of the department for Christ\u2019s sake\u2014and he gets terminal cancer. Him<\/em>, and not his horribly mean and reckless best friend. Him. Wow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I liked how Hilson the arc was. It was very much gay, but I don\u2019t mind viewing it as two very close friends who are insane with and about each other. Ultimately, their relationship is one for the ages, whether it be romantic, sexual, platonic, familial or whatever. Hilson forever. Them riding into the sunset together was definitely the right ending. They started the show together, so it\u2019s satisfying that they end it together, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

House faking his death feels in character, but I wasn\u2019t expecting it. I wasn\u2019t expecting his death at all, but when it \u201chappened\u201d, I believed it since the show is unafraid to kill major characters. That reveal was great, though. Wilson talking (truthful) shit about him at his funeral, only for him to text him \u201cSHUT UP YOU IDIOT\u201d… it just makes sense for them. House faked his death, thus ruining his career, his relationships, and his life, while also making him a runaway fugitive, all to be there for Wilson\u2019s last five months\u2014I expect nothing less from him. It\u2019s a perfect mix of character growth (being selfless) and correct characterization (doing insane things (for Wilson)). I approve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Though I liked how it ended, the finale episode itself was meh. I enjoyed the return of all these characters, that was great to see, though I wish so bad Cuddy was there. However, it felt a bit overplayed. We\u2019ve seen this gag before, give us something new. But after eight glorious seasons, what else is there? So I don\u2019t mind it too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

END OF SPOILERS<\/strong>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Overall, House<\/em> was a fantastic show full of engaging plotlines and an array of interesting characters. I highly recommend it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

My Christmas week started with my mom, my brother, and I seeing Les Mis\u00e9rables<\/em>. It was WONDERFUL!!!!!!!!! I\u2019ve been wanting to see the show since I first became an avid theater fan because duh. It\u2019s Les Mis. But I only recently became a true fan thanks to my brother. If you want a more detailed description about why the students are rioting in Les Mis, I suggest you get a brother who\u2019s in high school AP Euro. He\u2019ll tell you everything and more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve said it before and I\u2019ll say it again, I love megamusicals so much. Les Mis is one the founding fathers of them, so of course I had a blast watching. It was the show I cried most at. I believe these are the songs I cried at: \u201cValjean\u2019s Soliloquy\u201d (ending), \u201cI Dreamed a Dream\u201d, \u201cFantine\u2019s Death\u201d, \u201cDo You Hear The People Sing?\u201d, \u201cOne Day More” (sobbed), \u201cOn My Own\u201d, \u201cThe Second Attack\u201d (sobbed), and \u201cEpilogue\u201d. Okay, that is way too many times. Surely I didn\u2019t cry that much, did I? Did I????<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jean Valjean is my favorite character. \u201cOne Day More\u201d is my favorite song to listen to on the soundtrack, though \u201cMaster of the House\u201d is becoming a comfortable second, I can\u2019t lie! It\u2019s catchy! And despite it being my favorite song, I can\u2019t confidently say it was my favorite part. I\u2019ve had a really hard time establishing my favorite part actually. I love the whole first act, honestly, and the second act has some great parts, too! Especially the beginning for both, I think. The prologue???? Yeahhhh. Eating it. Nom nom nom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n

My Christmas Eve and Christmas were swell. I finally had a Christmas where I didn\u2019t feel so strange. Buying a couple of gifts definitely helped, but I think it was something else, too. I can\u2019t quite put my finger on it. Maybe something like I am more comfortable with who I am and reinforcing it; I didn\u2019t push myself to try to be someone else for the sake of others, and the outcome turned out pretty chill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yesterday, I just returned from a family staycation downtown. Extended<\/em> family staycation. Well, slightly extended. My family has a couple of levels to it. Level 1 is immediate family, level 2 is first cousins, level 3 is godparents, level 4 is second cousins, and then there\u2019s a couple more after that, and a few half-levels in between. This was a level 2 family staycation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was great! It was our first time doing anything like this, and I really enjoyed it. Its short length prevented any people-exhaustion, and its short distance prevented any homesickness and travel anxiety. I had fun and wouldn\u2019t mind doing it again.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
ceiling of Palmer House hotel<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

The weather is daunting. I fear it will never snow again. I hold on to hope that one day the capitalist billionaires who dictate our lives will soon realize they can\u2019t milk us of all our money if we\u2019re all burned to a crisp, but dear lordy is it getting frightening out here. It\u2019s okay to have worries. It\u2019s okay to be scared. If I\u2019m not, then I\u2019m just accepting the twisted fate they have imposed upon me. But what about Dinosaur Philosophy? Does that have space for hope? Can I focus on my survival while hoping for a day where I don\u2019t have to? Ugh. I\u2019m getting too deep for my liking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I\u2019m about to get deeper! About something else. Something stupider.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I dyed my hair today. The goal was caramel, to get a break from the constant upkeep that colored hair requires. Half of the goal was accomplished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have ended up straight up brown. Technically, it has some reddish undertone, but not one as apparent to my liking. I look so\u2026 normal. I don\u2019t really like it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n

For the past two years or so, I have gone with a rather go-with-the-flow attitude when it comes with my hair. I was bored of how it looked before I started messing with it, so I now make an effort to make it different every once in a while. My identity has changed a lot over the years, so it has made sense for my hair to as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I, like most everyone, express myself through my appearance. My hair has always sort of been at the forefront of my self-expression. It\u2019s weird and rather unique. It\u2019s easy to change, both semi-permanently and simply daily. Hair is one of the first things people take notice of when they look at you, and it\u2019s often how they remember you, too. My hair has come to resemble my individuality, and I have come to associate it with certain periods of my life. But now it\u2019s just brown.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s different from what it used to be, that\u2019s for sure! But it\u2019s so\u2026\u2026\u2026\u2026 normal. I don\u2019t know how else to explain it. All I see when I look at it is a person I am not. I see who the world wants me to be. I can\u2019t be that person. I can\u2019t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said something earlier. I said, \u201c I finally had a Christmas where I didn\u2019t feel so strange.\u201d I\u2019m not sure if you caught it, but I said \u201cso\u201d, meaning I did feel a bit<\/em> strange, for the same old reason of black-sheepism. I bring it up now because it feels as though my black wool was dyed white.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I feel like an alternate version of myself. This is who I\u2019d be if I never outgrew the spot in my family. This is who I\u2019d be if I figure skated. If I read F1 driver x reader fanfics. If I wrote a fanfic about Bella and Edward instead of Jacob and Edward. Or better yet, if I didn\u2019t know about fanfiction at all. If I didn\u2019t make Google slideshows about stuff I liked. If I didn\u2019t have a blog. If I was just fucking normal. This is who I\u2019d be if I wasn\u2019t me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My hair is pretty. It\u2019s nice, I know. It\u2019s just I\u2019m not sure \u201cpretty\u201d was ever the highest of priorities. Especially when it suppresses everything else about me. My hairdresser straightened it, too, so I truly look like a whole different person right now, and I feel so off. I look like the ghost of someone I killed years ago. I feel like I was reanimated, but brought back wrong. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve heard people with tattoos say that their tattoos have always been a part of them, they just needed to reveal them to the world. It\u2019s sort of like that one Michaelangel quote. \u201cI saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.\u201d Quirky hair was like that for me. And I just smothered the angel in concrete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before I got my hair done, when I was thinking I was going to get caramel, I was panicking that this was going to happen\u2014that I was going to look, and perhaps become, so very normal\u2014and telling my therapist about it. She suggested that it was fine to look normal, but still be weird. I guess I could experiment with that for a bit. My style has<\/em> been subtle recently. Perhaps it\u2019s time I exude my weirdness in other ways.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019ll be okay. I just need to get used to it, and see it in with my natural poofiness, and style it in fun ways. It\u2019ll be fine. You know, I guess this was bound to happen my go-with-the-glow attitude. The YOLO lifestyle does not equate consistently good outcomes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I did say half of my goal was accomplished. I no longer have to deal with the colored-hair upkeep, so at least there\u2019s that positive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"\"
baby<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
\"\"
afterbirth<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I once again forgot what day it was. I whipped up a few pages of this last week, but never posted because the week was so busy. Every time I had a few minutes to just sit down, I didn\u2019t want to spend them doing things that required thinking. Sorry to the fans, but hey, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1178,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1172","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1172","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1172"}],"version-history":[{"count":27,"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1172\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1362,"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1172\/revisions\/1362"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1178"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1172"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1172"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/longstoriesshort.blog\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1172"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}