Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Serenity

I'm supposed to be writing a first draft of my first feature for this cool magazine thing I'm doing, but I needed a break to just sit and reflect.

There is a lot of shit going on in my life. Some of it is awesome. So awesome. Beyond awesome. I'm living like a grown up. I'm promoted at work. I've got this writing job that, while volunteer, is so great! It makes me feel so good about myself. I've got an excellent group of friends. I'm building a name for myself. I'm actually doing well in school for the first time in my college career. I'm so...happy.

The other stuff that's not awesome? It's all up in my head. I'm still trying to find a way to vocalize it, write it, get it out.

It doesn't matter though. Things are amazing. 2012 really has been my year. It's been redeeming.

I just need to find a voice.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Anxiety

Some days I am just so riddled with anxiety it takes six different people to tell me to stop and breath.

There is so much going on in life right now I can't even. I CAN'T EVEN.

I got a promotion thing at work. I got a writing gig at a local magazine. That podcast I'm on is getting bigger. I'm actually doing well in school.

There is so much success in my life I don't know how to handle it. WHY YOU SO SUCCESSFUL, REBECCA?

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

A Derby Recap!

(This was a test article I wrote for a local magazine, which I now am totally a writer for.)


Happy Valley Derby Darlins Bid Adieu to 2012 Season with Final Bout
(rebeccasfrost@gmail.com)
No matter which league you skate with or represent, when there is another bout, you do your best to attend. You cheer for the other league, even if they have kicked your ass a few times. You scream plays they should have attempted instead of that mess of a jam, you pound on the floor with your hands (assuming you’re on the ground in suicide seating right against the track) cheering for a fallen skater to get up faster, and you definitely feel for the losing team. Roller derby requires support. Roller derby is a sisterhood. I’m not a very good sister, because this was my first bout at the Roller Hive in Spanish Fork, and how I wish I had come out more often to support the Happy Valley Derby Darlins because damn, they put on a good show.

The Roller Hive is a proper name for the Food-4-Less that hosts these girls, as the excitement buzzing through the building is felt from the parking lot. I felt a small thrill walking into the building. The trip from Salt Lake City to Spanish Fork was much like a pilgrimage. I travelled for what felt like days (only an hour) to pay respect to this sport I so worship. Everyone in the building, from players to referees, to spectators, gathered for the same reason: to watch some roller derby! I felt excited, as I always do on bout day, to be a part of this cult on wheels.

It was the final bout of the 2012 season for the Happy Valley Derby Darlins, and fighting for victory were two of the three teams that make up Happy Valley: the Rollin’ Rebellion and the Sirens of Steel. It was also night for celebration. Girls from each team were celebrating birthdays (Chiquita Wambamya of the Rollin’ Rebellion and Shimmy Sham of the Sirens of Steel) as was one of the referees (Scars Tupruvit). After the National Anthem, sung beautifully by Chiquita Wabamya, blurs of purple from the Rollin’ Rebellion and shades of orange from Sirens of Steel flew around the track during team introductions. The audience chuckled with the announcement of player names (it is requisite that a skater come up with a name for her or himself, something funny or designed to instill terror in opposing players).  To show respect for their challengers, the Sirens of Steel wore purple socks. Rollin’ Rebellion…also wore purple socks. Still have to keep some pride.

The first couple of jams are always the most difficult. The jams are clumsy. Skaters are trying to find their groove. The first minutes of the game proved no differently. Some skaters fumbled while jammers easily broke through uncoordinated packs. The second jam included a no-lead-jammer situation. In derby, the first jammer to break through the pack has the power to call off the jam. Hyp-knock-it Therapy from the Rollin’ Rebellion broke through first, but was sent to the penalty box. The Sirens jammer was then forced to skate for the whole two minutes, getting knocked down, getting back up, then trying again. If there was one consistent thing I noticed about the Rollin’ Rebellion, they built some excellent walls, making it extremely difficult for an orange player to break through.

After the breaking in the first couple of jams, skaters started to find their way. The Sirens of Steel utilized a defensive jamming technique I always get excited watching. When the jammers are released to attempt their first pass through the pack, one jammer will act as a blocker and hit and block her opposing jammer. It was a reminder that the jammer can do more than just pray she would make it by four other girls without incident. The Sirens used this maneuver several times, gaining a few feet and usually earning lead jammer status.
The Rollin’ Rebellion also worked their pivot. The pivot is the only other girl on a team who wears a panty on her helmet with a bold stripe down the middle. She is the last line of defense. She is usually in charge. Whenever Lady Hipcracker wore the pivot panty, she put it to good use. She skated in front, waiting like a cougar for the Sirens jammer, and would attack her, defending her team.

New skater, Devastator Cookie, received lead jammer status for the Rebellion and the opposing jammer was sitting in the box. The announcer exclaimed, “Power jam!” and cheers swelled. Devastator Cookie had the opportunity to skate as hard as she could to earn points while her opponent was incapacitated. This happened a few times during the night with different players, and the look on their faces when they finally decide to call off the jam when the opponent is released from the box is priceless. It’s a look of “Finally, I can stop skating for a minute.” Fellow skaters in the crowd smile and empathize with, “I know girl, that shit is exhausting.”

Jammers from the Rollin’ Rebellion Chiquita Wabamya, Kicking Assets, Hyp-knock-it Therapy racked up the most points for their team while Madeye, Bam to the Bone and Acid Burn made their Sirens proud. The final minutes of the bout were polar opposite of the opening jams. Skaters were in the zone. Others were suddenly impossible to knock down and skaters suddenly had the grace of ballerinas. Hyp-knock-it Therapy gained enough points to bring the Rollin Rebellion score close to the Sirens of Steel. Ultimately, points earned by Madeye in the previous jam brought the Sirens to victory, closing the game at 92 to 106.

For the final game of the Happy Valley Derby Darlins 2012 season, it was worth the drive. The league has made the WFTDA’s (Women’s Flat Track Derby Association) list of apprentice leagues, putting them on the path for competitions and, from the looks of it, glory. Unfortunately, Saturday’s bout was the last bout to be had in this Food-4-Less, and it is unclear where the girls will travel to next to continue their Happy Valley reign. I will travel for them, because derby girls are in this sport together and we do anything for each other, including driving south on I-15 through Utah Valley. Like I said, anything

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Divine Comedy

The Universe has decided this is the time in my life to throw all it's one-liners at me.

I've been noticing the cosmic humor in every little thing I come across, every action I take, and everything that happens to me.

The Universe thought my life wasn't interesting enough, so right when wheels actually start turning it pokes it's head in and says, "Hey, how about this?"

Good one, Universe. I'll go along with it. You are too funny.

Truth though, boyfriend and I are moving in together! In an apartment! With not enough kitchen cabinets! We have too much stuff! It is small. Like, uber small. The building always smells like Indian food and it's wonderfully diverse.

I'm having mondo anxiety. Crazy anxiety. All of the anxiety.

Here goes...

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Remember This Post

Remember this post.

This is a moment before the time you become an actual writer for an actual magazine.

This is a moment before you grow up for real.

This is a moment after you were the most stressed you've ever been.

This is a moment in which you have friends who support you.

This is a moment where you are a good student.

In this moment, you are your own person and damn girl, you're getting what's yours.

I'm so proud of myself right now. I'm also incredibly exhausted.


Saturday, September 22, 2012

Oh Crap

Hey, Rebecca, remember how you had this dream when you were a teenager? The dream where you were a writer, a media figure, and all-around cool person?

Then suddenly, one day a few million years later, you finally got off your ass and did something about it?

I start tomorrow.


I can be as vague as I want. It's my blog. So, suck on that.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

A Few Differences

A Few Differences is a song by the band Athlete. It's also the title I gave to a one act play I wrote in high school.

It's happening again. My past has returned to haunt me.

Not that it's entirely a bad thing. Sometimes I need the reminder, "this is what shaped you into what you are today. These are the people who guided you into being you." It sucks, because I want to forget about some parts of my history so badly.

Why, though? It wasn't even awful. Remembering things makes me ache. I don't understand why I wish I could forget about everything. I have to be reminded. I need to remember those who were my friends. I have to remember that I was kind of a bitch and left people behind and I should suffer the consequences of remembering.

I wish I wouldn't have dreams about my exes. Not exes, just ex I guess. I wish I wouldn't have panic attacks when I think about the possibility of running into an ex or an old friend. I wish I would have behaved differently.

But I'm too stubborn to change anything about it now. Instead I'll continue trying to focus on the present, because that's all I have.

Monday, September 3, 2012

Funny Asshole

Something happened to me today. Something I didn't know I was waiting my whole life to hear.

I was kickin' it with my podcast girls, guesting on Grumble Mountain's podcast on UtahFM. Grumble Mountain is a podcast done by three comedians. Comedians. Three of them. Whenever I'm in the same room as a "professional" comedian, I get sweaty and intimidated. I feel pressure to be funny. Not try-too-hard funny, but just right, casual funny. It's a very stressful situation.

About halfway through recording, one of the girls turns to me and says, "I wish I was as funny as you, Joss."

I wish I was as funny as you.

I wish I was as funny as you.

I wish I was as funny as you.

Holy balls, I didn't know I was looking for that kind of validation. Me? Rebecca? A lady? Funny? So funny, apparently, someone wishes for my wit?

I admire the shit out of female comedians. I long to be one sometimes. Only sometimes, I don't have the dedication to be funny 110% of the time. So, for someone to acknowledge that I am indeed funny, stirs strange emotions within me. Emotions like validation and giddiness. Also though, I'm going to feel like I'm in the room with another comedian all the time. Don't be too funny, Rebecca. Just casual funny.

But I'm doing this dance on the inside.


Sunday, August 26, 2012

You're a douche. Let's be friends.

What is it about douche bags that keeps me hanging on so tightly? When I was younger, I had a friend who I thought was the coolest guy. He was funny, knew things I didn't know, liked movies, kept up conversation for hours. Now, as an adult, I realize we was a total asshole. A huge douche bag. I made an effort recently to reconnect with him. I sent him a text, trying to strike up conversation. True to enigma fashion, he would only respond with one word texts. Short, brief, texts. "Meh," I said, letting it go, moving on with my life and accepting that sometimes, things never change. That night, at one in the morning, tried to start conversation. Like he always used to. Still a huge douche. No, some things never change.

But in the back of my mind, I'm still desperate to talk to him. I still want him to want to have conversation with me. Please tell me more about your super awesome job and how you are so much cooler than I. School me in the ways of philosophy and John Cusack movies.

I have a new douchey friend. He only talks about himself, conversation is always one-sided. Film is his fine wine. The holier-than-thou stench travels through the internet and through my speakers. I get so pissed off during our conversations I literally have the thought process, "how do I tell him he's an asshole? Do I just say it or should I subtly say, 'hey I have a douchey friend, how should I let him know?'"

Conversation ends and...I'm still thinking about him. I'm thinking "wow that guy is an asshole" with a subcontext of "maybe I can get him to change his douche-ways." Maybe I can give him a My Fair Lady treatment and release him into the wild, ready for the ladies.

Is that not the reason girls go for the asshole? Because maybe we can be the one girl who changes him? Why is it so difficult to find not just a guy, but anyone who isn't a total asshole to some degree? I know plenty of girls who are douches in their own right. "Don't get that beer. It's only good in California." I don't need more granola-people telling me that organic is the only food they'll eat, or that biking is the only way they'll get around. I don't need your 'tudes. But goddammit do I eat it up and find myself begging for more.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

SCHOOL IS HARD.

This isn't my first time taking Math 1010. It's not my second time. I literally don't even know how many times I've attempted this course.



It feels impossible. I can't grasp it. I feel embarrassed when I sit in class and I feel like everyone else is getting it and I'm not.



Today I was reassured when everyone around me was groaning, confused and frustrated. Yessss!

Hopefully I pass this time, God dammit.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Hello, Sweetie! Podcast Episode 33

Hey, I happened to make a very special appearance on this week's Hello, Sweetie! Podcast. I get nerdy all up in yo' business.

LISTEN HERE

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Lazy Asshole Approach To Fitness

(Language. You've been warned.)

I have a weird style of working out. I will go for a week, then I decide that the one week was enough for two weeks, then I stop going. Rinse, repeat. Not really "rinse" repeat, I shower daily. Just kidding, I don't shower daily.

I also have a weird style of skating. I call it the "lazy asshole" approach to roller derby. I will come to practice, I will participate, but I don't push myself. The only time I push myself is when I'm jamming and I have to tell myself, "it's only two minutes of hardcore cardio, just two minutes." Then I get tired mid-jam and I have to mentally tell myself, "BUFFY WOULDN'T QUIT MID-JAM!" 

Basically, what I'm trying to say is I lack discipline.

Sometimes, I pretend I'm a superhero in training. I do this when I'm working out or when I'm skating. I want so badly to stop halfway through whatever I'm doing but I have to tell myself that I can't save the city if I can't finish a 30 minute elliptical workout. Can I fight crime on skates? That would be so much easier than running. However, how do I expect to stop alien invaders if I don't want to practice endurance skating? 

But I'm not a superhero. I'm just a girl who wants so badly to fit into spandex and look good wearing it. I want to kick ass for hours. 

I recently started reading comic books to help satiate my superhuman desires. Currently I'm reading Civil War. I've got a thing for Captain America (I'll get into it later) and while reading Civil War: New Avengers I was introduced to Luke Cage and Jessica Jones. Boyfriend was like, "Read Alias when you finish New Avengers." 

So, I read Alias and fell in love with Jessica Jones, the girl who uses the lazy asshole approach to crime fighting.  OK, she's not a lazy asshole. She actually gets shit done as a private investigator. But I found myself relating to her. She has so much potential to do more and she knows it. But she doesn't. She focuses her energies into private investigation. The powers get utilized when necessary, but other than that? It's not her thing.

I'm still trying to sort through it. I have potential to do more. I know I can go farther as a derby girl. It is my thing. Why don't I work harder at practice? I don't want to be a lazy asshole. I want to push myself and do what makes me happy. Reverse Jessica Jones. I have untapped power, let's fuck shit up.

Monday, June 25, 2012

A Real Person!

I'm in the process of becoming a real boy. Trying to be more honest with myself and those around me is foreign territory. Cut the strings and dance by myself. It's been a long process, and a never-ending process if you really think about it. We all have to work on ourselves every day.

Actually, maybe I don't have to. The doctor today was, dare I say, surprised with how awesome all my levels were. She said I have one of the best cholesterol numbers she's ever seen. I don't know what any of this science mumbo jumbo means. I just heard, "Wow, everything looks really good." (Wait...was she hitting on me? "You've got really nice levels.") Basically, I'm a perfect human specimen and you should all start to worship me.

Back to my main focus of this blog, I'm closer to being a real emotional person. All through my formative years, I was never a hugger, never a feeling-expressor, always a joke-cracker. We don't really express emotions in my immediate family so this whole "cutting the strings" thing is new to me.

I'm two for two this week! Two examples of me saying, "Hey, that hurt my feelings. Just wanted to let you know."

Example 1: I'm a bridesmaid in a friend's upcoming wedding. I had it in the back of my mind that she wanted to go to Vegas for her bachelorette party. I knew her maid of honor was putting that together so I waited for an email to come with details. An email never did come, but Facebook posts started to show up on my feed. Vegas? Already? Wait...I'm in Salt Lake. Not invited?

Typically, I don't get butthurt about anything. Seeing these girls post from Vegas made me revert to Captain Hammer after being hit with Death Ray shrapnel, "I think this is what pain feels like!" I stewed on it for a few days. I learned a lesson that I shouldn't repress anything, to let people know that their actions triggered hurt feelings in me. I decided to let my friend know that, while I understood it was a sorority sister thing, I still would have liked a heads up about their plans. I actually may have seriously stammered through texts, but it was enough for me. I expressed something.

Example 2: Boyfriend got a new job, and I'm so happy for him. He loves it. It's all he can talk about. Seriously. It got to a point where he would call me after work and tell me about his day, which I'm happy to hear, but suddenly it would switch to "ok goodnight!"

Wait, I had a day too. Hell, I got a tetanus shot! I got a pedicure! She painted a flower on my big toe!

So, I told him how I felt. It was all very girly and, "I want you to want to do the dishes!" and yucky. I didn't care if he apologized or not. I got my feelings out there and that's what I cared about. I got words out of my mouth and they reflected my insides.

Gross, this is all weird stuff. I feel lighter though. Better than biting my tongue and wondering why people can't read my mind.

But I can read yours. Because I am a perfect human specimen. I am that guy at the beginning of Prometheus. Don't let my flab fool you.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

Startled.

I had a pregnancy scare this week.

I actually wouldn’t call it a pregnancy scare. The experience was more of a pregnancy rumination. It certainly lit a fire under my ass.

I visited a psychic this week. She’s an angel reader. I met with her for a couple of reasons. One, I was frustrated with my relationship. When we were discussing my relationship with boyfriend, she laid things out for me that I would never have picked up on by myself. She reassured me that, yes, we are great, however I need to retool my thinking and actions.  

I was also frustrated with myself. I often find myself thinking, “Seriously Rebecca, what the hell are you doing?” I have been feeling beyond lost in my life. If I look at my metaphorical paths before me, there are options. Too many options. I want to do everything, experience every path and open door life has to offer me. I recently have been trying to force myself into writing again, but my foot was stuck. How hard must it be to sit down at a computer and type words? How hard is it to sit down and focus in school? Really damn hard.

I asked her, “can you tell me what I’m going to be when I grow up?”

“How old are you?” She asked, her eyes closed and fingertips tenting.

“23.”

“Oh, honey, you won’t know until you’re 40,” she joked. She kept her eyes closed for several moments, and opened her eyes, smiling.

“All I’m getting is ‘mom.’ And it’s going to happen a lot sooner than you think.”

Mom.

Mom...

Mom?

Oh, hell no. And HOW SOON? Oh, balls. I started to have a mini heart attack. I won’t get into details, but I haven’t been on birth control and I wasn’t exactly careful. I asked her if she was sure. She delved into my future as a mother to possibly four (!) kids, and how with the first baby I would fall in love with being a mother and I would want to dedicate myself to it.

No, no, no. Firstly, I want only two (two is even pushing it, but boyfriend and I are both only children and we know how it sucks). Secondly, no way could I have a baby right now when I still live in my parents basement.

I left absolutely petrified. Sure I was bloated, but I also hadn’t been to the gym in a week and eating really poorly. I was also PMS-y so, you know. Those symptoms mimic pregnancy symptoms. Feathers ruffled, I pulled into a pharmacy parking lot. I had never needed to buy a pregnancy test before, what was with all the options?? I chickened out and said, “maybe the next store I go to.”

The next day, I told myself to man up and bought one. Unfortunately, I was on my way to work so I had to wait all day before I could pass or fail. While I was at work, I texted boyfriend.

“Um, don’t freak out when I tell you this, ok?”

“...ok?”

“The psychic has me really freaked out so I bought a pregnancy test.”

“And?”
“Well I haven’t taken it yet.”

“You know if you are she legally has to tell you.”

We talked like this all day, cutting tension with jokes. I was increasingly ancy. He was surprisingly reassuring and supportive. I drove home calmly, sat down and peed on the stick. One horizontal line for negative, a cross for positive. 3 minutes passed and no vertical line. Negative! I got out of the bathroom and shouted (internally), “SOMEONE GET ME A BEER!” As if the universe was on my side, I got my period two hours later. Beer for everyone!

It wasn’t a scare. Not even a possibility. But of course I am still thinking about it.

We went to the movies, surrounded by kids. I kept thinking about how I would hold my daughter’s hand through the crowd. How I’d tell her “shhh” during the movie. How I would watch her light up during the funny parts.

We went to the Arts Festival. I imagined her awe at the beautiful art, reaching out to touch the sculptures, reminding her to drink her water and keep on her hat.

What am I doing with my life? I don’t want to be mom right now. But if it happened...I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I’ve got so much I want to experience. I don’t want to be stuck behind a desk, I don’t want to be stuck in anything. I need to do what I was supposed to be doing this whole time. Writing. Experiencing life and writing about it. Experiencing everything. This ordeal has given me drive to get out in the world and make every day a discovery.

You, little one, have given me something to write about. You, little one, have given me some drive.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Battle Zone

"I dropped my gift card somewhere in Target. We have to go back," boyfriend admitted in the car.

"Are you kidding me? I told you to put it in my purse so it would stop falling out of your pocket!"

"I know, but I figured after the tenth time it fell out it would stop doing it," he said, his smarts obviously out of my range of knowledge.

This was fine. I needed to go back to Target anyway. I needed to go to the bathroom and I wasn't going to sit comfortably all the way back to my house.

I needed to go two-sie.

Two-fer.

Poop.

We staggered into Target for a second time that evening (earlier I was buzzed off Uinta's Yard Sale Winter Lager and needed to walk it off) and I veered into the bathroom.

I don't understand why, but this Target always keeps it's bathroom freezing. The air is brisk. The water is practically ice. Even the air dryer shoots out arctic winds to dry your hands. Maybe you're supposed to get your blood pumping first with heavy duty shopping and cart pushing so you're prepared to venture into the frigid whiz palace?

I bent over, doing a shoe-check to make sure I was alone in the bathroom. Alas, there they were. A pair of brown suede boots. God dammit, seriously? I can't drop the kids off if someone is there with me. I go into a stall, figuring she's almost done.

I sat there, doing the mentally straining task of clenching one direction and releasing the other. You know, peeing while flexing. She was just...sitting there.

So, I just sat there as well.

And we sat there. Together. Waiting for the other person to leave.

I NEEDED TO TAKE A SHIT. I was in the middle of a shit cold war, and no one was budging.

Fine, I thought to myself, I'm going to go frickin' Poland on your ass and create a movement to "create a movement" elsewhere. GOOD DAY TO YOU.

I left, taking extra time at the air dryer to give her the cover-noise so she could "get going."

Why does this happen, ladies? Why does this happen so frequently? This is not the first time I've sat down for ages thinking, "god dammit shit or get off the can." Can't we poop together? Why do we sit on the toilet for what feels like hours, waiting for the other person to leave? We're all in this together, it's not like I wander into the bathroom, notice you're there too and say, "oh my Gorbachev what is someone else doing in here?"

Maybe one of my new year resolutions should be to get over this common poop space anxiety. Shoot the shit. So to speak.