Stream of Consciousness

24 and Learning to Ride a Bike

My sister, who is fifteen, took an hour to teach me how to ride a bike, then happily road around with me until I got the hang of it.

She did a lot of trying not to laugh.

I don’t blame her.

This is basically how it went:


Week One

I’m going to die! …

….If I can get this thing moving.

It took me almost a half hour to figure out how to get moving without wobbling off balance. Have I mentioned I have zero balance? And I trip on flat surfaces? And I run into things?

This is kinda cool. Also, I’m going to die.

My thighs are killing me!

My brother joined us and I watched the both of them zoom uphill while I was in the back trying not to fall over. My town goes up and downhill. A lot. Freaking mountains. Uphill sucks. You’d think all the jogging I do would count for something! But oh no.

My butt is killing me!

A straight line? What’s that?

My left leg looks like it got in a fight with a rabid shard of metal.

My munchkins (siblings) left for their dad’s house, three hours away, leaving me to my own devices. (Don’t worry, I don’t die by the end of this post.)


Week Two

My butt still hurts from this freaking seat!

This is great, I can go to the store whenever I need to.

I now hate crossing the street.

Oh, hey look, I’m bleeding. When did that happen?

Going good, biking to and from work without incident. Liking it.

Ran into someone’s parked car while coming around a corner. There were people there to see it. *head desk* (I was fine, the car was fine, but I felt like a dunce.)

Did you know biking burns more calories than jogging? I thought that was the best thing I’d heard all month.

I felt great until I almost got ran over and went back to feeling like a moron.

Note to self: Worries me that I’m not scared of getting hurt, I’m concerned with that person knowing I’m a (sometimes oblivious) dunce.

Oh hey – there are rules of the road for people on bikes? Huh. I should probably know those.

There are this many rules!? How am I supposed to remember all of this while simultaneously not falling over, running into people/moving vehicles/buildings and remember where I’m going?!

So… I’ve been biking on the wrong side of the road half the time. Oops.

I followed all the rules! Yay me!

Should I buy a bike helmet? Do I need a bike helmet?

I don’t legally have to have one since I’m over the age of 18, but… I am on a two wheeled death trap, riding around a bunch of twenty-ton machines with people inside them… Maybe get the bike helmet….


Week Three

I think going through the embarrassment of learning how to ride a bike in my early twenties was well worth it.

I love being able to get where I need to on my own, without issue.

Plus, its great exercise.

I see people riding their bikes without their hands and texting and it flat out amazes me. But I think I’ll stick to holding on to the bike, thank you very much. I just don’t have that level of balance.

I got lucky too. I learned in the back parking lot of a big building where no one could see me. That takes off heaps of humiliation, I mean pressure.

I’m not even going to go into detail of how I had to figure out which gear to use when, while staying upright, not running into anyone, and following rules.

Oh, and I’m going to be laughing at myself for running into a parked car for quite some time.




Anyone else here not learn how to ride a bike until they were an adult?

When did you learn how to ride a bike? Did you enjoy it?

Run into anything?

Stream of Consciousness

Honestly, I have Nothing to Offer, Except…

HONESTLY, I wouldn’t wash my hair if I didn’t have to. It’s so annoying, hair gets all over, I have to wait eight millennia’s  for it to dry, and brush it out at just the right time or it sheds  more hair all over and drives me insane. But, if I don’t wash it I begin to look like I could squeegee my hair out and oil your truck… so I figure it’d be a good idea to wash it. Plus, I look less naked-mole-rat and more human when it’s clean. But Jeeze! I’d love it if hair just stayed clean.


I absolutely love waking up sore from a good work out. Absolutely love it. So then, of course you see me walking around all weird-like, stretching limbs out in odd places, stretching my back, arching my back, leaning forward, stretching my legs out to the side…. Randomly. Because it feels good.

Because that doesn’t totally look strange.


“Forgiveness doesn’t make the other person right, it just makes me free.” Anonymous


So, would someone like to give me the recipe for this?
So, would someone like to give me the recipe for this?


I love going to therapy! That probably makes me sound like more of a crazy person than I am, but it’s so true. If I could joyfully yell it from a hilltop, head thrown back, arms stretched skyward, I would. Except, then people would probably wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have left therapy, and I don’t want people thinking I’m a different kind of crazy than I am.

But yeah. I love therapy. I don’t want to stab people as often. 😉


Humans are so impressionable. No wonder it’s so easy for the monsters to win us over, to get us, to sneak up and slip into our skin or rip it open.

But humans are the monsters.

Exactly. There’s one in all of us. And we let it take over without much of a fight, now don’t we?


HONESTLY, the truth of the matter is really quite funny.

It’s the reality so many don’t want to accept. Don’t want to see. We They don’t want it to be real as they cling to their chains and shriek out the pain, woe is me, where is the answer? as they hug the cold metal harder.

There are no rules.

Where does this puritanical urge come from to believe I must be miserable, suffering, in pain – or I must be doing something wrong? If I’m not in agony, I’m not a good person, I’m not fighting the good fight. If I don’t burn with the angst of never-to-triumph fire, I must not be trying.

No one is holding a gun to my head, telling me I must suffer.

No one is threatening to burn my family alive and rip my heart out while I scream and thrash in some Mayan ritual.

So why the bloody hell do I feel the need to suffer?

Life isn’t fair because everyone plays by ‘life isn’t fair’ rules.

Human choice is an underappreciated privilege.


I looooooove chocolate. Does anyone else put chocolate in the fridge or freezer before eating it? That doesn’t count for things like oreos or hohos though.

Also… I no longer like cake. And who doesn’t like cake? Well, my papa doesn’t, but he likes pie and ice cream, so it all evens out. Anyway, I don’t like cake anymore, not of any kind. Really freaking weird.


I am finally understanding that no one is perfect. No one has it all under control or is at the point where they’re like people in story books, fairytales, or movies: 100% sure of themselves and handling challenges perfectly.

No one.

No one is, by my definition, someone I agree with and want to emulate 100% of the time.

Everyone makes mistakes.

It never occurred to me. Some people, I’ve been believing, are people they’re not.

For some ridiculous reason I thought they never royally messed up or lost their cool, handled things poorly or made mistakes. I thought they were agreeable all the time and never said or did (or even thought) anything I consider judgmental or careless.

I mean, I knew they had challenges and trials – every human being does.

But I honestly thought they never made the “I screwed up” kind of mistakes.

It’s finally sinking in that everyone one of us does this. We’re all totally human and struggling to do our best (well, those of us who are trying). We’re all messing up and trying to get back up and do better.

It’s helped me see more people as beautiful and good. They’re trying. But they’re human, just like me, messing up and learning. No one has got this thing called ‘life’, down.

No one.


Since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated with rocks, crystals, gemstones. When I was a kid, I had a huge tub I kept under my bed filled with rocks I found. I couldn’t even lift it towards the end there, it was so heavy. I don’t know what ever happened to all those rocks.


I love geodes. Yet, I have none. The horror.



“Writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers.”  – Charles Bukowski


“We cannot all succeed when half of us are held back.” Malala Yousafzai

HONESTLY, I am tired of this. I do not care that you are black and I am white. I do not care that you are male and I am female. I do not care that you are Mexican, Guatemalan, Puerto Rican, Japanese, Chinese, Persian, Apache, Russian, British… and I am white. I do not care that you are twenty-nine, seventy-eight, ninety-three, twelve… and I am in my early twenties. I do not care if you have less or more money than me. I do not care if you have red hair, dyed hair, or fake hair.

I do not care.

I do not care.

I do not care.

We are all human. I believe all human lives matter.

I am sincerely tired of hearing that only one kind of life matters.

I believe we should all be fighting for each other, fighting for humane treatment of human beings, regardless of color or gender.

We are all human.


Let’s just get this straight. When I refer to ‘monsters’, I’m talking about one of two kinds of monsters.

One, bad people.

Two, creatures from stories and movies and myths which are dangerous and I absolutely love.


“I have nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” Jack Kerouac