One More Day

This past Sunday, I headed to the rink reluctantly. I knew, thanks to my monitoring duties, that I would get in very little ice time. Little did I know that that ice time would be less than I expected and that I would lose something. There is only one day remaining to the Sunday morning torture I call Ice Monitoring. I have announced that I will NOT be returning. And this time I mean it. No amount of begging will convince me to return. I have not skated these past Sundays and since I am the skater and not my non-existing child, it bothers me. That being said, after what seemed like forever, I got on the ice. I was immediately interrupted because the music wasn't working correctly. I should mention that I don't know how to work the music because I do my program so infrequently. Off the ice I go to walk to the office and ask if someone can come fix the music. While heading back to the ice, I was interrupted for some ice monitoring duty; I don't remember what it was. Back on the ice. Two laps around the rink and I started my first Move in the Field. And was interrupted when someone was breaking the rules. I was handed a copy of the rules which I had to deliver to the rule-breaker. I started my moves again and got half way down the ice when a little child decided that was the perfect place to do a spin. She was in lesson. I asked the coach if she could possibly move her student out of the track. And started my moves again. I was successful in doing half of one move and was on the ice a total of six minutes. Yes, six minutes. Out came the Zamboni. While preparing for the second session, I watched a mother and her two daughters prepare to get on the ice (the kids, not the mom). I had never seen these three people before and waited for the mom to ask someone "who do I pay?" She never did, but whisked her children onto the ice with their coach, who I also had never seen before. The rule for this skating club is the same as the rule for the rink and 99% of all other rinks and clubs: YOU PAY FIRST. So, since my co-monitors had not seen them enter, I calmly went up to the mother and told her she had to pay first. She told me she'd do it when she got around to it. Usually, I'm not that much of a bitch, but, I had only six minutes on the ice and was quite pissed off. I said to her, "I'm the ice monitor and I can throw your kids off the ice immediately if you don't pay right now." I got "the look". As an African-American woman, I get "the look" a lot. What's "the look"? It's the look that says, "who the hell do you think you are? Don't you just work here? I don't have to listen to you." I got on the ice and skated towards one of her daughters. She went go pay. Unfortunately, the coach decided that the 6 or 7 year old child should skate on the end of the rink where the high test skaters do their jump patterns. I asked the coach to kindly move to keep the kid safe. She rolled her eyes at me and said, "Whatever." This coach is on staff at the rink. I know her boss; we are friends. Mistake. BIG mistake. Not only did this chuck-wagon piss me off, but she succeeded (as did the mother of the two skaters) to piss off the other two monitors and an officer for the skating club. Good luck getting anything signed by the skating club now. But wait, there's more! For some unknown reason, everyone and their cousin had to do their program. And we have music hogs. You know, those people who start their programs over and over and never actually finish skating them. As a result, I ended up playing the music for the second session and not skating at all. All of this hell ends next week. I am counting the hours until I say "GOOD BYE" to monitoring. I will show up for the end of season party because I want someone to say thank you to me. On a totally different note: there is a summer program at Gallaudet University. It's an intensive 2 week program in ASL. I was evaluated for the program this morning and ranked into the Advanced class!!! I don't know how to add photos, but if I did, you'd see me dancing!! Makes up for Sunday.

I Have Feelings

The above statement is probably a surprise to many people. Yep, I have feelings. You wouldn't think it, since I am a "big" woman of darker complexion. Yes, I am 5'6 1/4 inches tall and weigh over 165 pounds (although I don't look THAT fat, but I do look fat; I like to think I carry it well, but no longer wish to carry it at all). I mention that because in the past few weeks, I have been truly insulted.

Let's not bother to mention the obnoxious skating children who think of me as "the help". Screw them. I'm talking about adults. And I'm not just talking about skating adults.

Yesterday, in school, another student brought her dog with her. It's was a cute dog, a small dog and I like dogs. I prefer cats, but I like dogs. During a break, I was playing with the dog, who, surprise, surprise, liked me. One of my classmates signed, "It's so strange to see your softer side." Huh? She went on to explain that because I don't like children, she assumed I didn't like animals and it was so nice to see me being kind to something.

WTF?

But it didn't stop there, oh no. She had more to say: Since I didn't have any children and expressed no interest in getting married, it was nice to see that I had a softer, kinder side and that I should show that more often and that I might find a nice guy and start a family.

I think my face cracked at that point.

For the record: I love babies. They are sweet and cute and they (usually) smell wonderful. Everything is new and exciting to them. That is wonderful. I actually like kids until they're about 7 and then don't want to be around them until they're about 17, unless they are spoiled and then I never want to be around them. I spent three years teaching skating to little girls. My last class left such a bad taste in my mouth that kids and I really just don't gel. How old were my students? Between 10-16: the annoying ages.

As for a husband, I have been dumped more times than I care to count. And it hurts; a lot. I give my heart freely and love deeply and when the last three guys you dated tell you that the sight of your face makes them want to vomit, well, you close yourself off to relationships. Also, I fell hopelessly in love in college and when he disappeared, I waited years for him to come back. By accident, I found him on Facebook. He's happily married with two kids. He doesn't remember ever dating me. That really hurts, a lot.

So to be told that showing my "softer side" will get me a man and a couple of kids and believing I wouldn't be insulted or hurt by that comment... Surprise. I have feelings too.

Staying on the school theme, I asked my instructor if she'd write me a letter of recommendation because I want to apply to the Interpreters program at a local college. While she didn't say no, she did insist that I just try to take classes at the college and NOT apply to the Interpreters program. For the record, I want to see what they have to say about my signing since they don't know me and would be more impartial than others. I'd be surprised if I got into the program. Thrilled, but surprised. In short, my instructor didn't think I was ready nor that I had the skill. There's another woman in my class who's signing is a little "muddy" for lack of another word. Everybody thinks her signing is wonderful. I sometimes have trouble understanding her because her favorite sign is "whatever" and she signs it all the time. As in after every other sentence. Perhaps it's jealously, but I have met others whose signing is better, but according to all the instructors at this particular school, her signing is perfect.

I don't think of myself as being anywhere near great, but I didn't think I'd have to convince my instructor to write the damn letter. Color me: hurt.

Amy will not be at the rink this week and next week I will be out of town. Tonight, I will go and practice and there is a 99.9% chance that someone will ask me to watch them do something if I stop for more than 3 seconds. Watch me! Watch me!! Watch me!!! And if I do, I always, always give positive reinforcement. I think it works better than saying "you suck". But what do I get? "Wow, I thought you'd be better than that." "You STILL can't land that?" "What was that supposed to be?" And my favorite, "You were trying to do X? Let me show you what it's SUPPOSED to look like" followed by eight attempts of X and each one proceeded with the comment: Look at me!

I am a pretty good spinner and a pretty good jumper. Yet, every week as I step into a spin or go up for a jump, there is a woman who sees what I'm doing and does the exact same thing, and gets in my way. She never backs off. I've come very close to taking her down on more than one occasion, but I know what she's doing. She is trying to show me "the right way to do it." How do I know this? She has told me. First I am asked what I supposed to be doing, followed by the question "really?" then she shows me how it's supposed to look.

I do not skate for exercise; I compete. I am not "big boned" since there is no such thing. I am just fat, but thank you for pointing it out to me; I guess I never noticed. Thank you so much for saying it to me every time I show up at the rink. It hurts when you say that.

My sister/roommate has more mood swings than the pendulum of a clock. She constantly tells me what to do; not make suggestions, tells me, almost a demand. I have been called names that I won't bother to repeat and I say nothing. She sees nothing wrong with her actions. Why? I don't have feelings, or if I do, they are only slightly important. I am trying not to start an argument, so I keep quiet. I also repeat myself because I will get cut off at the knees. Still, I have feelings.

My other sister doesn't pay attention to what I say long enough to actually hear it. She is in her own work world and it is all encompassing for her. Between the two of them, I occasionally have the chance to finish a thought or comment. However, if I talk too much about skating, school or work I can see their eyes glaze over, I can hear the sign in their voices. I stop talking and ask about them. I have feelings too.

At work, I'm always wrong. I don't fall into my boss' "chosen" category of white, Irish-Catholic. I'm Catholic; one out of three ain't bad. But no. And so, I never get to finish a sentence. And when I start one; I'm wrong. (Side bar: my boss has to read everything aloud. Do you know how annoying that is? Think about it for a minute.) At a meeting, my boss said the division secretary was just a wonderful person who does so much and gets so many things done. The division owes everything to this woman (who is almost always on the phone with personal calls) and she is so knowledgeable about the business thanks to emails and phone calls where she funnels information through. And oh, my boss added, there was also me. Considering the amount of work I do, color me: hurt.

I am not petite. I have recently been told that I'm not pretty. Still, this over-weight woman has feelings. And those feelings are constantly hurt.

Maybe I'm too sensitive; I always have been. I go out of my way NOT to hurt anyone's feelings. Couldn't someone do that for me?

A Brief Intermission...

I have injured my wrists (along with my rotor cuffs) doing who knows what. The end result is forced rest with no typing or signing for several days. I can't turn a door knob, open a bottle or carry anything heavy, or even light.

With that in mind, I want to temporarily leave you with this: Sometimes courage is saying "I will try again tomorrow".

Until "tomorrow"....

If I Only Knew...

I have been battling a really bad sore throat on and off for a month and a half. It comes, makes it almost impossible to swallow and quietly goes away. I've been trying to get to my doctor to have her look at it, but it disappears before I can be seen.

It is a plot to drive me insane! MORE INSANE!

I was recently told that, since I was grandfathered into the Silver level of adult skating that I could compete in Silver at Adult Nationals. REALLY!!! No one could have told me this sooner? I could have been preparing for AN, even if I couldn't go because of work, but at least ready? I could have competed in the non-qualifying portion of Regionals?

Couldn't someone have told me sooner?!?!

It's okay; it's something to strive for.

Before I go to bed, I must mention that "Sebastian" is embarking on a new adventure: storm chasing. I wish I had his spirit for adventure. He is amazing!

It's late. Good night.

Wish...

I wish I didn't have to write this particular entry. It is something I feel must be said, but I really wish I didn't have to.

No, I'm not quitting skating; at least not yet. That entry may be written in a few months at the rate things are going. This is about something else:

Being African-American is not something I can change, nor is it something I WOULD change, if I could. I am comfortable in my skin and THAT has taken a long time. I grew up being made fun of for various reasons, not the least of which was the color of my skin. I always loved to read and as a result, scored the second highest reading score in my school (my sister scored the highest). I scored an upper class high school level reading score while in the 4th grade. Several of the teachers didn't believe it, thought I had cheated and wanted my sister (who in the 5th grade, scored a college level reading score) and I to take the test again.

We didn't.

I mention that because of an incident that occurred on Sunday at the rink. I have been one of the monitors at the Sunday morning session for two years. I know the name of every little pony-tailed skater out there; even the ones who look alike. Until last year, I didn't realize that little girls between 9-11 years old who hang out with one another actually start to resemble one another. Be that as it may, I know their names. Until last month, no one knew mine.

When I started monitoring, I introduced myself to every skater and every parent. I learned their names; two minutes after meeting me, they forgot mine. Week after week, I was called "The Monitor". I have a name.

One morning, while checking skaters in, I stopped, looked down at the girl in front of me and asked, "What's my name?" She stammered and looked around and finally admitted that she didn't know. I reminded her that I told her my name last year and she said, "Monitor?" I suppose that was her attempt at being cute; it wasn't.

I asked every single skater and parent if they knew my name: only the other monitor and her daughter knew my name. After telling all the skaters and parents my name, I've tested them every week since.

These people knew the name of every other skater and every parent, yet, no one bothered to learn MY name.

Did I ever mention I am the only African-American on the session?

It is as bad as when I went to Lake Placid, and being the only one of color on the ice, every coach knew my name. It's either too much or too little.

The real reason I mention this is an incident that occurred last week. One of the skaters (and she's 16 years old, so youth cannot be blamed for this) arrived at the rink without her mother (and her mother is very vocal in the club). Skater needed a session card and mother had given her a check for said card. On the envelope was the name of two other monitors. I was sitting at a table talking to a parent who is also a coach. Skater walks up to the table, looks at me, announces that she needs a session card and hands it to the parent/coach. Looks at me again and sits down.

I turned to the parent/coach and said, "What the hell was that? I am right here and she couldn't hand ME the envelope? What did she think I was going to do with a $220 check? Buy drugs?"

The parent/coach made excuses from "maybe she didn't see you" to "she's young", but I knew the reason. "I have to put up with this nonsense every single day in my real life. I don't need to put up with it here. This is one of the reasons I will not be back next year. This skating club doesn't deserve my money and I don't need to skate their sessions any more." While the parent/coach tried to tell me otherwise, I knew that the skater never saw me as anything more than "the help". I had no name, served no purpose other than to help her and the other skaters.

I feel sorry for people like this. I wish I could make everyone a different ethnic group for one month, not one day, one month. Experience what it's like to deal with DWB (driving while Black), being followed around in a store or when speaking passionately about something, having some chuck-wagon think you're angry. Experience the negatives and the positives: being able to keep time with music, (for many) having a strong relationship with your chosen religion, and (for women) having the curves some other women envy and some men lust after. Yes, these are stereo-types, but I wanted to paint a broad picture. Hollywood paints a very broad picture of African-American women. We are only beautiful if we are part white (Halle Barry) and if we're not, we have to be "big boned".

I will step down from my soapbox now. I have had my feelings hurt and I have been slapped in the face. Maybe this is why I like the Deaf so much. They don't care what color you are; they care if you can sign or not.

Wouldn't the world be a much better place if that's how we all felt? Who cares what color you are. Can you communicate with me? Yes? That's all that matters.

Really People? Really??

Under most circumstances, I don't mind when someone suddenly cancels on me. Things come up, people get sick; I understand. I am not so egotistical that I believe the world revolves around me. The last time I looked, the world (earth) still revolved around the sun. Yep, just checked again. Still earth revolving around sun.

I am annoyed when you have convinced me to attend an event I had not planned on attending and then just hours before we are to meet, decide that you aren't going. Had I not sent you a text, you wouldn't have contacted me. What was your reason (since you didn't give me one)? Your boyfriend? The fact that you'd have to pay your own entrance fee? Or maybe it was because you'd have to take the LIRR out to Long Island to meet me because I refused to drive from Long Island to Queens and then BACK to Long Island, past my office to arrive at the original destination. Whatever the reason, I am NOT pleased. Please, do not attempt to convince me to attend an event again.

That being said, on to skating.

I don't skate enough; this fact has been well established. The fact that I can maintain 90% of my skills while skating just one day a week amazes me. It amazed a fellow adult skater, who, after I finished my lesson, disrupted my flow (and wasted what precious little ice time I have) by telling me that I "seemed to be coming along". Coming along? This from a person who can barely perform a forward edge roll. I'm not sure whether I should be insulted or not; I sort of am insulted. Be that as it may, the skater then took up ten minutes of my ice time asking me how many times a week I skate. "This is it, really." I replied, to his surprise. I explained that I practice everything off-ice from foot work to jumps, workout during lunch and after work, stretch, do yoga and pilates and ab work. He said that my abs must be in great shape, and I replied, no, they aren't. I informed him that I just try to work as hard as possible on everything (exception is my job as I am suffering from a major case of spring-fever). More of my time was taken up while he picked my brain about yoga (which he hates), pilates (which he's never tried), kickboxing (which he's afraid to try) and skating.

By the time we were finished, my back was cold again and ten minutes of my ice time had disappeared.

Note to self: Don't stop moving long enough to allow anyone to talk to you.

On to the session: Excellent session. Almost everything worked. Amy and I worked on my program for the local competition in June (which I may or may not do). Although the program is still in the planning phase, it looks pretty good and is technically challenging enough.

Just think, if I actually skate more than once a week, I might do well and not keep coming in last.

A Few More Lessons Learned

Really, I must get to the rink more often. This would be accomplished if I had the monetary funds to do so and didn't park my car 8 1/2 blocks from my apartment. Now that the time has changed (Daylight Savings Time, I think) it seems so dark at 5:30am. This will change, right?

So, another week down and once again, I have learned a few more things.

1. Never listen to the weather person on Channel 1. On Sunday, he said it would be warm. Really? In what universe is 40 degrees warm?

2. If the weather person says it's going to be warm, expect the rink to crank up the cold making it almost unbearable.

3. Very cold rinks, no warm-up and dressing inappropriately will make my knees hurt. And various other parts of my body.

4. Most former Olympians are extremely sweet and interesting to talk to.

5. No, I don't skate for exercise. Please stop asking me.

6. Still don't have any kids. Didn't have them last year; don't have them now. Please stop asking me.

7. If you drink water after every bite of food, you will live in the bathroom.'

8. If you do drink that much water, bring something to read in the bathroom. Leave it there because, you will be back.

9. Skipping lunch, dinner and breakfast the next day can make you really, really dizzy while sitting in a warm classroom. Thank you "Sebastian", my hero, for making sure I was okay after becoming ill.

10. Your co-workers truly believe that anything that happens to them is much more important, tragic, funny, exciting... than anything that happens to you. Your DOG is sick, not your kids, not you; YOUR DOG!!

11. Taking a class at another school that is supposed to be a high level ASL class and you learn absolutely nothing, can make for a really frustrating drive home from Long Island.

12. Had a dream where everyone was signing AND skating. Cool.

I am really at a loss as to how I can get more ice time when even the most creative accounting is leaving me with a negative number after paying my bills. I would hate to think that my skating career is coming to an end thanks totally to my lack of funds and terrible job.

While ASL is incredibly important in my life, skating has been part of it for almost as long. (I started signing as a kid after seeing the movie "The Miracle Worker". My sisters and I learned from books, not knowing that the sentence structure is different, etc. I learned as much as I could from those old library books and still remember some of the old, outdated signs I learned as a kid.) I would like to stay as well-rounded as possible by signing and skating. Although right now, I have no idea how I'm going to do that.

If I had a bit more free time, I'd get a second job. As it is, I am sacrificing sleep to study and work out. Maybe after I pay for the workshops I have to attend and my car insurance and cell phone, I can squeeze out a few dollars for another session.

It'll all work out, if it's meant to. In the meantime, I'm off to finish that article I was reading in the bathroom ten minutes ago...