PC

Sean John Combs was his given name, but when releasing his first rap album, Sean christened himself Puff Daddy. He became famous, and with his upcoming albums, his music wasn’t the only thing that transformed--His stage names did as well.

He went from Puff Daddy to P Diddy to just Diddy over the span of one decade.

Although I may have rolled my eyes at his "inconsistencies," it wasn't that big of a deal. I thought it was even kind of cool that he could wield such power, because, not that long ago, people of his race didn't have that ability. Once upon a time, people of color were called negros--or even worse--the other n-word. And before that, they were merely nameless slaves.

Times change. What was once accepted, is now appalling. Society is evolving, and with that, our vocabulary.

But sometimes it’s exhausting being PC. It’s not uncommon to hear something like, “People are overly sensitive these days; I can’t say a damn thing without someone getting offended!” And that’s fair. Everyone should be able to state his or her opinions. Keyword: everyone.

But some claim that they “Can’t keep up with it all. It’s impossible to be politically correct because people keep changing their minds!” Also noted. Just look at the ever-expanding LGBTQ+ abbreviation. Every time I check, there’s another letter added. But also, is this really a problem? My sexuality may be represented with that first L, but that doesn't mean I refuse to call anyone by a new name added to the abbreviation. I should welcome change even if it doesn't concern my needs.

Being PC is not ridiculous. Being PC is not a chore. Being PC is the least you can do to listen and acknowledge those who once didn’t have a voice. If you can change for Diddy, I’m confident you can be PC for those Humans with whom you don’t identify. Please don't let privilege get in the way of empathy.

Although today may not be “the good old days,” today is a better day. Let's be grateful for that.

Stupid Love Songs

These little shits think they're sooooo romantic.

I’m sick of men singing songs about beautiful women.

They pat themselves on the back for the compliments

that slide off their tongues so easily and

turn a blind eye when those same compliments

slide off the backs of women.

I’m sick of boys singing songs saying,

“You don’t know you’re beautiful,”

thinking they’re deep by claiming,

“That’s what makes you beautiful.”

And maybe they see this as a compliment because

they say it like it’s a good thing.

Like it’s a good thing that her enemy is a mirror.

That she hates her own skin, her own curves, her own body.

Like it’s a good thing that men can talk all they want about her beauty,

but she can’t believe them

because no one likes a vain woman.

Call me a hypocrite, but I also tell women they’re beautiful,

and, even though I’m also a woman, they don’t believe me.

They refuse the truth like a dangerous dessert,

scared the compliments will stick like sickening sweet honey,

a nice flavor, but a nasty mess when let loose.

Yes, yes, the dessert was a kind gesture,

but what she wants is a real meal

because too much sweetness makes you sick.

My girl is beautiful and

I tell her every day, but she just says,

“That’s because you love me.”

And it’s true. I do love her. And when you love someone

their physical imperfections disappear

like mascara that’s not waterproof

a perm shampooed too soon

a spray tan in the shower.

Because beauty is just the wrapping paper and ribbons,

but your heart and your soul and your intelligence--

Those are the gifts inside.

Women don’t need to be told they’re beautiful.

It wasn’t until men focused on their looks that they started to doubt it.

Women don’t need men to tell them they’re beautiful

because there’s no point in stating the obvious.

I don’t want my girl to ask me if her jeans make her butt look big.

I want her to tell me her butt is big and that I should be grateful.

I want my girl to strut her stuff, not for others’ eyes,

but because she loves her own body.

Afterall, nothing is wrong with wrapping up a present;

it shows that you care about the gift inside.

I want to tell my hot ass girlfriend that she’s beautiful

And I want her to accept it, without deflection.

I want to tell my amazing girlfriend that she’s beautiful,

-like truly beautiful-

and I want her to believe it.

But I guess it’s not about what I want;

it’s about what she wants.

And although I can’t speak for her,

maybe she just wants people to stop talking about the
wrapping paper, and just open up the god-damn present.

I get it--I look like a student

Once upon a time, there was a girl. Actually, she wasn’t a girl -- she was a teacher, but the hall monitors treated her like a girl. Now, this teacher Ms. Oda was aware that she looked young. In fact, if it wasn’t for her faculty badge and a plethora of blazers, she would blend right in with the sea of students as she walked down the hallways. She was ok with looking younger than she was; she had accepted it. What she didn't accept was how the hall monitors treated her. How they patronized Ms. Oda even though she was a professional with a college degree.

She also wasn’t ok with writing in the third person, so she stopped.

It all started at the beginning of the school year. I was starting my third year of teaching, but this was my first year at Copper Hills High. No one knew me yet, and no one was really sure whether I was a teacher or just a dressed up student with an identity crisis. It was my prep period, and I needed to grab something from my car. As I walked to my car outside, a hall monitor approached me, fire gleaming in her eyes.

“Where are you going, honey?” she asked. She may have used a cute name, but the hall monitor’s words dripped with accusation. I looked at her for a split second, confused with why I was being stopped and why the woman’s hand was still on my shoulder.

“Umm, I’m going to my car?” I said, raising my faculty badge for her to see. “I’m a teacher.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she laughed. “I thought you were a student! It’s hard to tell when you’re as old as me."

I’m sure she meant the self-deprecating humor to double as a sincere apology, but it didn’t. The damage was done, and I kind of hated her for it. But let me be clear -- I didn’t choose her as my enemy because she mistook me as a student--that happens on the daily. What bothered me was how I was treated. The hall monitor talked to me like I was a guilty teenager trying to cause trouble. She stopped me with the intent to chastise me.

The next week I was stopped by the other hall monitor. It was before the first bell when I rushed past her to get some copies from the library. Copies for my class. The class that I teach because I’m an effing teacher. I had passed the hall monitor when I hear, “Uh, doll, you can’t wear that bandana.” I turn around and she sees my badge. “Oh, you’re a teacher?” she asked (without embarrassment). “I guess you’ll still have to take off the bandana. It could be a gang symbol.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I’ll take it off.” Because I’m a responsible adult. Because I’m not a gangster. That was strike two.

There has been a strike three, four, and will probably continue on to higher numbers, but here is my takeaway: whether you’re an adult, a teacher, a boss, someone’s superior, or any other status of power, don’t treat those “below” you like they’re already guilty of something. Don’t expect the worst, expect the best. Give those teenagers a chance. I didn't mind being mistaken for a student, but I didn’t like how those hall monitors made me feel. I get it--the purpose of their job is to make sure students aren’t skipping class and messing around--but students are still people. And so am I.

I’d like to be treated like one.

Blazer = Teacher
Mirror Selfie = Slightly Embarrassed Millennial

Little Kristen's Journal Entries (that were super gay without her realizing it)

This week is Spring Break and I have Hand Foot and Mouth Disease. I sure know how to spend my vacations to the fullest. With all this free time, I decided to go through my old journals and see how my writing style and voice had changed over the years. But after reading through more than a decade of my life, I started to notice how obvious it was that I've always been gay. Guys, I was a week short of turning 23 when I finally came out to myself. TWENTY THREE!! If you talk to most gay guys, they'll probably tell you that they realized they were gay around 12 or 13, when they were hitting puberty. But for me, although I had dated quite a few boys, didn't figure out this huge part of me until I was almost through college. 

So, as I was reading through this, I kept sharing parts of my journal to my girlfriend that I thought were particularly funny because it seemed so obvious that I've always been a stone cold lesbian (I think I just made that term up). How did I not figure this out sooner? Hindsight it 20/20, but it's almost like I grew up blind. I'll talk more about this later, but first, here are all the little pieces from my journals that had Little Lesbian Kristen screaming from the pages--misspellings and all. 

July 8th, 2000 (age 8)

On the fourth of July I bot my bike...it is m favorit bike that iv had. it is a boys bike that is red. i got a boys bike becus all the girls biks were pink or purple yuk!

March 15th, 2001 (age 9)
A few days ago was my birthday. I got a pocket knife, a Lego racer, and lego soccer, and sume clothes.

August 8th, 2002 (age 10)
My other best friend in Brunswick is McKenna. I'm not sure if she is my best friend anymore because she talks about boys a lot.

This entry breaks my heart. After being home schooled, I started going to public school in 4th grade and decided it was too hard to stand out.

December 30th, 2002 
Last year I was a big tomboy who liked sports. I'm not really a tomboy any more because when you are one everybody stares at you funny and sometimes askes you if you are a boy. the reason why i started being a tomboy was because I hated the color pink.  Then all girl clothes were pink a lot of the times, so I decided to start wearing boy clothes, and I got more and more. so then pretty soon I didn't like girls clothes at all. but over the summer I started wearing sporty girls clothes and started wearing normal girls clothes pretty much. I still wear sporty clothes, but it's in the girls department.

July 28th, 2004 (age 12)
Later after dinner we went to church for Young Womens. We decorated cookies and played pictionary. The girls were very loud and annoying again and they got on my nerves.

My mom had told me she was excited to get her first period because it made her feel like a woman. I did NOT relate to this. Also, the last sentence kills me.

November 29, 2005 (age 14)
During the weekend my intestines felt all cramped up and thought I just had to take a #2, but I didn't so I just ignored it but on Sunday I got my period. And it SUCKS!!!! I was hoping it would come later but it didn't. I guess getting it in 8th grade is kinda late, but not really...this is a pain in the rear. Literally. Well I'm done complaining and we're gonna eat pizza pockets!!! YEAH!!

April 6th, 2006 (14)
"going steady" in middle school is extremely lame because first of all who dates without a car? and you shouldn't have a "relationship" with anyone until you're getting ready to get married (which I hope is nowhere near soon).

November 7th, 2007 (age 15)
(After gushing about this boy I was crushing on) ...I have noticed that i'm really picky with guys. There aren't any cute guys in Medina! I'm so excited to go to college!

April 17th, 2008 (age 16)
Now that I'm 16 I can finally date, so we also went to the movies and stuff. Just for future reference, my first date  was a week after my birthday with Boy #1 at the movies. What's really weird is that I really like Boy #2 last year when he was dating someone, and I had a crush on Boy #1 on and off for awhile, but now that I can date, I don't like them as much as I used to. I really like hanging out with Boy #2 and talking to him, but I feel like I'm not attracted to him as much. It's actually really odd. Ever since I've turned 16, it's like I don't have hormones anymore. I don't understand why; it's like I'm a kid again...I just feel guilty because I feel like I'm leading Boy #2 on, when I don't want to be in a relationship with anyone. 

September 7th, 2008
I don't really want to write about this, but I guess I'll want to remember this later on in life. So the curse of guys afraid to kiss me is gone. Haha, you guessed it, I finally got my first kiss! Too bad I'm embarrassed to say his name. Boy #1 was my first kiss, and I hope no one will find out because it would be extremely awkward. Jenai's the only person I've told, but I know Boy #1 has told a bunch of his friends, which I'm not too thrilled about. Haha but I have to say it was one of the worst first kisses every! When he kissed me I didn't know it was coming, so I was surprised, and then my mind went blank and I couldn't kiss him back. So then I started to laugh because I had just made a fool of myself. Yeah, it was bad. But luckily I had other opportunities to get better, and I did. I feel kinda bad for kissing him so much because I don't really like him that much, and we're not dating, but now I'm glad I have some experience now.

July 29th, 2009 (age 17)
I mentioned before that I had a boyfriend and his name is Boy #3. We didn't really hang out until this summer but he asked me if I'd like to go on a date with him and I really didn't want to because I didn't like him like that, so I told him I would but just as friends. Eventually we hung out a lot and I was starting to like him and it seemed like we should kiss, so I did and because of that I guess it was assumed that we were going out. I realized that I hate the term "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" haha I don't know why, but I told Boy #3 that I didn't want us to be serious....(one page later) I became more and more detached to him because I realized that I hate dating exclusively and I didn't like him as much as he liked me....(another page or two later) Eventually Boy #3 got quiet and I could tell that he was holding back tears. I told him he could say what was on his mind, and he said it would make me feel awkward. I had a feeling of what he was going to say, so I was praying like crazy to know what to say. Finally after a few minutes Boy #3 said that he was starting to love me. My guess was correct and I wasn't sure what to say back because I don't love him like that. I told him that I couldn't say the same back, but I was really grateful that I had dated him because I learned a lot form our relationship.

On to my journal I had in college before I went on a mission and figured all this shit out.

July 18th, 2012 (age 20)
Actually, my work friends are my real friends now. I hang out with them outside of work more than my other friends. Just yesterday, I saw Girl #1 at work, then she came to the pool with me, we saw a movie, and later we made a midnight run to Wendy's and McDonald's. We might as well be dating.

July 24th, 2012
I'm going to see The Dark Night with Boy #4. AKA my Asian crush from work. He finally got my digits today. Hopefully I don't ruin this like every other "relationship" I've had.

October 26th. 2012
So yeah, that night I asked Boy #4 if we could start dating exclusively because other people were both trying to date us and it was getting too complicated for me. Let me repeat, I made it official. That's a big deal considering I've ran away from any relationship that started to get even a little serious.

November 10th, 2012
Just to keep this exciting, maybe I should write about Boy #4 for the third entry in a row. We broke up. I love ruining suspense. It was more like a friendship where we often hung out exclusively, and occasionally made out. So basically, nothing has changed except for the kissing stuff. It was both our first real relationship, but it was hardly real. Like always, I wasn't willing to put in the time, and I couldn't see myself ever falling in love with him. It was weird, because I'm pretty close to him, and physically attracted to him, but there was nothing romantic about our relationship. I'm beginning to worry that I'm incapable of falling in love. I've never even come close. Maybe I'm really picky...

I then continue to write about my friend (a girl) whom I obviously was much more interested in writing about.

This past Thursday was the last time I got to see Girl #1 at the MTC. She leaves for her mission on Tuesday, and I'm super duper sad. I would like to withdraw my last statement saying I'm incapable of falling in love, because I'm definitely in love with Girl #1. Sisterly love, jeez, don't freak out. At first we'd mostly spend time together at the pool, but then I wanted to hang out with her all the time, so the pool times were just a small fraction of our "together time." We have so many differences, but our sense of humor and other stuff totally clicked. I was really only close friends with Girl #1 for two months before she left, but I consider her my best friend. I haven't told her this, because I'm sure she has a couple friends higher on her totem pole, but she knows I consider her one of my closest friends. Once I get a boyfriend who I want to see/talk to as much as Girl #1, then I'll know it's love. Instead, I write long letters to Girl #1 every week with really awesome drawings. I'm hopeless.

So there you go. Being a tomboy doesn't make you are a lesbian. Not having a good first kiss doesn't mean you're a lesbian. Not loving the boy you're dating doesn't make you a lesbian. But jeez, there was a lot going on that I wasn't writing about. Yeah, I'd talk about my boy crushes in a lot of my journal entries, but that's what they were: crushes. Nothing more. When I talked about my relationships with girls, it was pretty clear that they meant a lot more to me. I had never really wondered why; girls made good friends and boys were stupid. The whole LGBTQ scene seemed so sexualized to me, that I never thought that I was part of that community. Sure, every once in awhile I had a passing thought that I might be gay, but doesn't everyone? Looking back, I had some huge crushes on my girl friends, but I never thought I was gay, because I just wanted to be her best friend-- I didn't recognize any physical attraction.

It wasn't until I fell in love with a girl that those physical longings showed up. It was when I fell in love with a girl that I realized I wasn't heartless and was capable of being in love. It was when I fell in love with a girl that everything else started to make sense.

I liked my violin, I hated that dress.

Embarrassing Moments

Whenever people ask me about my most embarrassing moment, I think back to two different memories, both from my days in 7th grade. Unlike the majority of the population, I actually quite enjoyed middle school, but even though I can claim that, I cannot claim that I left those puberty-filled halls without embarrassing myself. Here we go!

What an awkward time.

Story #1
Before the days of social media and smart phones, emails and instant messenger were kind of a big deal. As a 7th grader, I was late to the game and was still trying to come up with an awesome screen name. It was pretty much a self-proclaimed nickname, so it had to be good.

One day, I was walking the halls of A.I. Root Middle School, discussing potential screen names to my friends. I was particularly proud of the fact that I was half Japanese in a town of probably less than 10 Asians, so I thought that I should have my username make some connection to my super awesome heritage. I've tried octopus before, maybe I could make that apply. I mean, I didn't love it, but it wasn't necessarily bad, either. Yes. Eating octopus seemed super badass and I didn't hate it, so I was definitely going to use octopus in my AIM screen name.

After taking about .7 seconds to brainstorm some really awesome ideas, I blurted out "How about 'tentaclegirl'?" I asked my less-clueless friends. But I didn't say tentacle. I said "testiclegirl." Not only was this mortifying to the awkward and somewhat naive preteen that I was, but the meanest teacher in the school also happened to be walking behind us, unknown to me.

"Sounds like YOU need a new vocabulary, Missy!" I was mortified. Needless to say, I didn't make my screen name tentaclegirl, I made it iloveperogies92. Classic.

Story #2
Sadly, this story is just another embarrassing moment I created because at the age of 13, I was still not very accustomed to the idea of puberty and sex. I can still clearly remember sitting in my history class, waiting for my name to be read so I could collect my graded test from Mr. Sutherland. A nice boy sat next to me and although I seldom talked to him, I had no problem asking him a rather personal and non-essential question when he stood up to get his test.

"Woah. What's in your pocket? A ball or something?"

This poor kid was wearing basketball shorts (the only thing middle school boys wore and still wear to this day) and was experiencing an...erection. I may have been a little clueless, but I wasn't clueless enough to not realize the moment after I asked what was happening. So not only was the boy embarrassed, I was also very embarrassed. And that's the end of the story.

I think it's about time I come out

    I always claimed that I wouldn’t make a public coming out statement because I didn’t want the attention. I didn’t owe anyone an explanation of my sexuality, so why would I post something so personal on social media for everyone to see? Over the past 2.5 years I’ve been coming out to family and close friends and that was going well; I didn’t really see the point of potentially causing a ruckus that I didn’t want to deal with.

    Although I still pretty much agree with “Halfway in the Closet Kristen,” I’ve realized that this worked for awhile, but not anymore. I’ve always been an open book; I saw no need to hide myself from others...until I realized I was gay. I came out to the people I was close to, but I let everyone else assume I was straight--which eventually became unhealthy and exhausting.

    Before I really get into anything, I just want to clarify that I’m not writing this with any sort of agenda. I’m not here to promote any type of lifestyle, and I’m not attacking anyone’s faith. I just feel like I need to come out publicly for myself.

    I’m not going to go into a lot of detail about these last 2.5 years of my life (partly because it would take too long and mostly because you probably don’t care), but a little explanation is probably needed. I always liked coming out to people in person when the time was right. (For those of you who I’ve already come out to, thank you so much for being loving and kind; I realize how blessed I am to have you all in my life.) I’ve never had a bad experience coming out to any of my family members or friends and I was never nervous because I knew once they heard my story, they’d understand--or at least try to understand. The thing is, I can’t have these one-on-one conversations with everyone, but I still want to invite dialogue. So, if you want to talk, hit me up. I’ve never been offended by a question because I’d much rather you hear it from me, than through a whispered conversation behind my back because the topic is supposedly taboo.

    So. I am gay. What does this mean? I don’t know. What does this mean for me as a Mormon? I don’t know. Will I stay in the church? I don’t know. My life is a bunch of unanswered questions which plague me every day, but for now-that's ok. I'm just going to keep on truckin' and this is one way I'll do that.

For those of you who are LDS, this may be hard for you to read. Before all this, I was pretty much the model Mormon girl. I went to BYU, served a mission, did everything I was supposed to do. And that made me happy. I’m not a rebel, and I never thought I’d stray away from the Church. And truthfully, that makes me sad in a lot of ways. I’m not angry at the Church, but for now, I’m just going to do what feels healthy. I’ve dealt with depression ever since I got home from my mission (which was pretty much when I figured out I was gay), and I feel like a big part of that was because I wasn’t being fully truthful about myself to others.

    My sexual orientation doesn’t define me, but it is a part of who I am. It has helped me to be more accepting, loving, and empathetic. Basically, I’m pretty sure God made me gay just so I would be forced to become more Christ-like. So if you have questions, please ask. If you or someone you know is going through something similar, you can talk to me. I probably won’t have any answers, but I can promise you a non-judgemental listening ear.

    To finish this off, I’m going to share a poem I wrote a little while back. I have now officially graduated from BYU, so some of my feelings may have changed a bit, but this is a glimpse of what I was feeling at one point in my journey.

P.S. To all the boys I tried to date: I’m sorry and I can truthfully say, “It’s not you, it’s me.” ;)

New Religion

Today I did the dishes while I played some Mackelmore.

He’s gone through a lot of shit--compared to me, a whole lot more.

I was born to loving parents; wasn’t rich, but never poor.

Went to college, got a job, should be happy, but want more.

It’s weird, because I enjoy life. It’s weird because I could be free.

The problem is I’m in this closet wishing I could just be me.

In some ways I’m the lucky one; I never felt alone.

Lots of people hide their feelings or else kicked out of their home.

But that wasn’t how it was for me; friends and family were supportive.

Mom still hopes that I’ll date guys, but in the end her love’s not shorted.

Sometimes I wish I was straight so I could be the perfect daughter.

It’s a struggle in the Church, but I still love my Heavenly Father.

Can you believe I was the age of twenty two

when I came out to myself and realized that it was true:

I was gay and had been in some pretty deep denial.

In that moment I asked God, “What should I do with this trial?”

I had planned to stay. My faith was the priority.

But as time went on, it felt like a sorority.

This was once my home and the center of my life.

But that was not okay if I planned to wed a wife.

Currently, I find myself unhappily in a strange limbo.

I’m halfway in the closet; my close friends and family know.

But I’m still a student at the Y and don’t feel very safe.

Probably because I’m not living in the “straight and narrow” way.

But this feels more right than wrong--I really do like girls.

Back when I was dating guys I felt zero type of thrills.

I know life is more than just following your desires,

But when I was dating boys, I just felt like a fat liar.

So I guess what I’m saying is I’m sick of being “straight.”

Or at least the assumption: for a husband I will wait.

‘Cause a lie is a lie even if it’s by omission.

So to live a truthful life has become my new religion.

Partly because I needed a thumbnail pic. Mostly because we're cute.

   

80 Percenter

This year marks my first year of teaching high school English, and I'd say it isn't going horribly. Right now we're working on a type of personal essay called "This I Believe" in which you write about something you...believe in. You can find hundreds of examples here. I've been writing alongside my students, so I thought I'd share it because I never blog anymore. (You'll find out why in the essay.)

When I was a kid, I used to dream that I’d make it into the Olympics.  Actually no, I didn’t just dream--I expected to go to the Olympics.  When discussing my bright future to any half-amused adult, I’d say something like, “Either I’ll go for soccer, or running, but I’m not sure yet.”  It wasn’t a matter of if I’d go to the Olympics, but in which sport I was to compete.  

Although I give props to my five-year-old self for such confidence and optimism, eventually I grew up and realized that I wasn’t going to make it to the Olympics for soccer or running.  In fact, I was never on varsity for cross country and didn’t even try out for the high school soccer team.  To some people, this may categorize me as a failure, but I quickly accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to be the best at anything; instead, I was simply above average at a handful of things.

Although I continued through life picking up quite a few hobbies and skills, I never mastered them.  In some ways I loved being a “Jack of all Trades,” but it also kind of bothered me that I was never the best.  And then one day, on our way to the Uintas for a camping trip, I was sitting in the back seat of my friend’s Subaru Forester flipping through a Patagonia catalogue.  The magazine was mostly filled with pricey outdoor clothing that I’d never be able to afford, but on one page there was a quote from Yvon Chouinard that caught my attention: “I've always thought of myself as an 80 percenter. I like to throw myself passionately into a sport or activity until I reach about an 80 percent proficiency level. To go beyond that requires an obsession that doesn't appeal to me. Once I reach 80 percent level, I like to go off and do something totally different.” Keep in mind, Yvon Chouinard, the founder of Patagonia said this; if he wasn’t afraid to admit that he was only 80% proficient at his hobbies, why should I be?

And that’s when I started to think of all the different sports and hobbies I had obsessed over until I reached that 80%.  At some point in my life, my thoughts and free time had been consumed by triathlons, drawing, lacrosse, piano, Dance Dance Revolution, P90X, longboarding, road biking, salsa dancing, drumming, roller skating, Crossfit, YouTube, skiing, and blogging. I never “threw myself passionately” into these activities to be the best--I immersed myself because it was a fun challenge.

I take my hat off to those who dedicate their lives to reach that 100% proficiency; the amount of talent, hard work, dedication, and sacrifice amazes me.  And yet, I don’t really envy them anymore. It would’ve been cool to go to the Olympics for soccer, but then I wouldn’t have had the time to make sub-par YouTube videos or hit the local skating rink every Friday night to show off my moves.  And that’s why I am okay with being an 80 percenter.  Because I believe that at 80 percent I can live life at 100 percent.

Now I will attach a few pictures of me doing some of those things I mentioned. Because pictures make it more interesting.

Proof I did a triathlon.