Future librarian and hopeful novelist, fat queer mostly cis female (female pronouns, but i do not identify as a woman--call me anything other than "woman" and i'll be ok), classically trained singer, rugger (Leinster, Ireland, Canada, USA), hockey fan (Evgeni Malkin, Matt Duchene, Avalanche, Canucks, Blue Jackets, Blackhawks, Penguins), Quaker, mentally ill (major depressive disorder, anxiety disorder, binge eating disorder), kinkster, fanfiction writer, occasional NSFW reblogger.
I notice everything. And by everything, I literally mean everything. I notice when someone stops hitting me up like they used to. I notice when the way someone talks to me starts changing. I notice the little things that people do, and the little things they used to do. I notice when things change, and when it’s no longer the same. I notice every single little detail. I just don’t say anything.
Behind every great sporting triumph, there’s a moment that makes it possible. We call it Moment Zero™. Watch Shawn Warford’s Moment Zero, starring Steven Stamkos as Shawn Warford (and a cameo appearance by Jordan Eberle).
I actual wish I was, there are so many times I’ve come close to getting a try.
Oh man, I (fellow prop) scored two tries during league games, and they were both during the same game, and they were both on openings caused by slow ball, and they were two of the more glorious moments of my life.
(In point of fact, it’s the pens and paws calendar. I’d take excited selfies with it except my face is very anxious.)
I did not receive my jersey. Worst of all, as of 7:13 yesterday it was listed as “delivered.” It’s not fucking here.
USPS hasn’t gotten back to me yet, but like—I’m freaking out. I sent them another email tonight. A) I want this fucking jersey. B) I obviously spent some money on it, and yeah, it’s insured, but it was an ebay buy so it’s not like I can just order another. And C) as mentioned last night, I have such anxiety over misdelivered mail that I’m just freaking out. And mad at the post office. Fuck you post office.
I should be excited because Danielle visited today and when she gets back from vacation next week we’re gonna do lunch and maybe a movie and she was sad I’m not gonna be around for christmas and I should be excited! But like, the fucking mail is SO COMPLETELY out of my control that I am incapable of blaming myself and so instead I’m just endlessly worried