identity cliche

whenever i find myself in the throws of writing difficulty (such as this very moment, as i'm trying to revise an article for publication) i feel pieces of myself slip away. i'm never sure that i can hold on to all of myself, or that i have enough of myself to put into whatever it is i'm writing. these are often the times i turn to various identity salves that i believe help me reassert this tattered, stitched and patched notion of "me". they take different forms: sometimes i buy shoes (my foot size is a constant), sometimes i eat chocolate (i know the day i stop liking chocolate, i am no longer the girl i used to be), sometimes i watch a beloved movie for the billionth time (Adam's Rib anyone?). today, i'm going to paste below a silly list of behaviours that mark one as a rower. this is a part of me that i need to hold on to right now:



YOU KNOW YOU ARE A ROWER WHEN.....

-you don't mind walking in frozen bird shit barefoot

(i wear socks)

-everything you do is "in 2..."
-you need to have a small pushy person around telling you what to do all the time
-you can get up, get dressed and get out of the dorm before your eyes are fully open
-the phrase "cox box" doesn't make you giggle
-you believe the world wouldn't exist without spandex
-you only recognize your friends from behind

(and you tend to slap their butts as a demonstration of affection)

-when you need to go anywhere, you have a sudden urge to throw your car over your shoulder
-you stick water bottles in your shorts for no reason at all

(okay, i stick them in the back of my sports bra or uni, but same thing)

-you feel naked without clothing enough for 10 people on
-you believe all authority figures carry a megaphone
-you sit in class leaning to your rigger
-half your body is bigger than the other
-you blame bad moods on "the set"

("but the boat just wasn't balanced" should be an excuse for all bad moods, no matter the cause)

-when your play softball at your company picnic you are psyched to get old people on your team for the age handicap
-your friends need a rowing translator to decipher your language

(friends have noted this)

-you can wear the same thing every morning for a week and not think twice

(uhm yes ... 4 rows this week, one unisuit)

-you think sleeping late is waking up at 8:30.

(i actually slept in till 8:45 am on canada day. i had to get out of bed. i felt guilty. a friend more practiced in the art of sleeping in says i should just increase in small increments, so that i don't freak out)

-when someone mentions being awake, you turn parallel and set up for it.

(that is quite possibly the worst rowing pun i've ever heard)

-when you sit down in class, you look for the tie-in shoes.
-you constantly check the tightness of nuts in handrails, chairs, door handles, etc.
-you think gloves are for sissie

(a guy i know cut someone's hand when he shook hands with him; his hands are that calloused ... ewwww)

-you bring up the beauty of the dawn, and people give you blank stares
-overhearing people talk about how little sleep they got causes you to smirk, and maybe get medieval on their ass
-your vision of going away for the weekend is other people's vision of Hell

(i really like that one. hell would be an old wooden hull with slides that dig into your calves, seats that come unseated and oarlocks that squeek really loudly. you would have a little, gravelly-voiced demon as a cox who would continually yell "harder on port")

-you know more than 4 brands of porta-johns by name.
-you're giving directions to a friend and you wonder why she's looking at you funny, until you realize you just said "turn to port" instead of "take a left."
-you dress and undress one-handed so you don't have to take your hand off the oar.

(yeah, even when you're not in the boat)

-every time you sit in a chair you are mildly surprised to discover that it doesn't slide back and forth.