As I mentioned before, I've been really struggling to stay on course when it comes to blogging these days. My heart is in Gaza right, now, but my fingers tell me I must be here, in front of the computer, writing essays about everything except Gaza.
I'm thankful for the opportunity that Bitch has provided me here. A chance to at least meld what is going on in my life with what I'm "supposed" to be doing--talking about pop culture. Debbie's support at this difficult time has meant the world to me.
I was going to post today about how I got the Wii Fitness for Christmas and what my thoughts were.
But today, the only thing I can think about and post about is what is happening in the Gaza strip right now.
Two days after Christmas, the Israeli government began military strikes against Gaza. Children were heading home from school, university students were waiting for the bus to pick them up, fathers were sending their children out on errands.
And then the strikes began and Gaza was blown to shreds.
Normally, I could give a shit if I'm fat or skinny--I function much along the same lines as Rosie O'Donnell when she said she simply doesn't pay attention to her body enough to know if she is fat or skinny or a spaghetti noodle. I'm the same way.
But being a lover of sports, being a lover of 'movement'--I find myself forced to confront the fact that I am fat almost every single time I step outside my door in my tennis shoes and jogging pants.