What I Have To Say

The whirlwind

BJMiller — Sun, 08 Apr 2007 02:54:25 GMT

I'm just settling in... but I feel like a bit of a stranger in my own house. Most of the time, I get to stay home and work from home in my work. My job is flexible, and I've somehow constructed my life to be a working mom from home when I am mostly present in both worlds. I can slip off and into the office when I have lots to do (I have a nanny five days a week from 8 am until noon), and if there's anything that ends in massive screaming or crying, I can pop out and lend a shoulder or give hugs to make owies go away. However, there are about two months per year when I am on the road. I just completed my main travel commitment. Man, was it long. I was gone for the better part of March, and for about three weeks, ending in the middle of this past week. I am madly in love with both my husband and daughter. But I found myself really feeling OK without them. I even liked not having to feel the 24-hour responsibility that both Tom and I shoulder when we're home. I love my work. It makes me tired, I get burned out (especially on the long travel trips), but I thought I would be more sad being away from home and my family. I missed Tom more, I think. He gives better hugs, and I love his touch and his company. Kids are different. Arden is dependent on me, but very independent in her own right. She just inserts herself into my life. And I love it and I love her for it, but it was really nice to not have to be in constant contact with another human for a few weeks. I never realized how much I like my space, even as social as I am. So, now it's settling down, and Tom's been taking care of Arden for the last month. He forgets that since I'm home he can leave and go do things. He told me this morning that it was weird not being tied to the house all the time. That's exactly why I hired a nanny. We all need space to live our lives in, even from each other. We love each other unconditionally and completely, but that doesn't have to mean we're physically connected at all times. Motherhood has been a learning experience for me in a big way. I'm so interested to see what this next child is like and if the level of neediness is different or about the same. Ahhhhhh... Breathing out in my own home feels nice. I just like to lay in my bed and roll around knowing that it's Tom's and mine and that he lives there and sleeps there, too. I like to know I CAN have the touch, but not have to have it, I guess.

"Technology"

BJMiller — Fri, 02 Mar 2007 22:21:11 GMT

There is a philosopher, Jacques Ellul. One of the main points of his musings was about the COST of technology. Not like it costs us in dollars, but in the cost of life. For instance, we look at technology as this thing that allows us to go places, to do things, to make our lives more convenient. Ellul thought that the cost of these technologies must be considered when using them. The technologies that were supposed to bring us together, often isolate us - like the Internet. It's easier now than ever to find a high school class mate, but many people delve so deeply into the Internet that they lose all social contact with physical people, or they can not function in social situations. I wasn't going to talk about that. I do this when something is bothering me. We had our ultrasound, and it's a boy. We are ecstatic that we are having a boy to go with our little girl. This is what we hoped for, but didn't want to talk about for fear of cursing a beautiful, perfect little girl, should she be what was growing inside my belly. So, there's a little boy who seems to delight in kicking me at all hours in there. So, ultrasounds. They are very weird, very cool, very informative. They can show you a lot, like the gender of your child squirming around inside. They also take a good, hard look at all the organs, the formation of everything to make sure it's all coming along well. You can also see some things that you may be able to address when the baby is born. You can detect and prepare for many kinds of problems before they happen, and then when the baby is born, the doctors can be ready with whatever kind of treatment was necessary for whatever was detected in utero. On our first ultrasound - one that was for "dating" only - the technician saw something called the thickening of the neucal fold. Now, this is a "soft" indicator for Downs Syndrome. It is basically the distance between the outside of the neck and the spine. At that age, the baby's neucal fold was large. Really, that test is not supposed to be done until the baby is older, and it can be compared to several other measurements - which our son was too small to do. At any rate, the technician performed this test without our blessing, which pissed me off, and made my husband a complete wreck. They told me they wanted me to come in and do more tests on our baby when the others were inconclusive. I told them to fuck off. Fast forward to the 20 week ultrasound. Now, they look for all the possible abnormalities, check to see if all the organs are functioning properly, and can tell you if you're having a boy or a girl. They checked the neucal fold, and it was completely within normal range. So, that was a false alarm that caused nothing but stress in one of the people in the world you do NOT want to stress: an expecting mother. That's the good news. Bad news is they found some kind of "cardiac abnormality" in the left ventricle. It was a spot of some kind that the ultrasound picked up but was unable to really identify. Now, both Tom and I have an "athletic heart murmur." I don't know if this could be some kind of genetic thing that is largely fine, but my feeling is that it is nothing. Truly, I believe this little boy is more than healthy - I believe he is perfect, untouched by any genetic abnormalities, and will go on to do great things in the world. And if he has Downs Syndrome, he'll be the smartest, strongest, most accomplished Downs kid ever to be born. But he doesn't have it. I just know. Apparently, this is another "soft" indicator for Downs. Even though the other one has gone away. I would guess, then, that there are "hard" indicators for Downs. These, according to my sister-in-law, who is a doctor of pharmacy (not MD), are the size of the cranium, the brain and the jaw. None of these are out of the range of normal. So, it looks like we'll be going down to Denver to do another ultrasound, but this time it's a level 2 ultrasound. They should be able to see more and make more conclusive judgments. The part that I like about doing this one is that the person who is doing the ultrasound is a doctor. Not some lab technician whose only skill is avoiding the questions you ask about your baby. Tom has been completely stressed out about this. I keep getting indignant and frustrated when they try to tell me there is something wrong with my baby. I get mad, he gets scared. This comes back to my conversation about Jacques Ellul. The cost of having this technology - this ultrasound that shows so much that sometimes it shows things that aren't there. The mental cost of the worry that I would never have without the knowledge of a cardiac abnormality. But would I change it and not know? I never pictured myself as an "ignorance is bliss" person, but this is the first time in my life I've felt like my instincts were far more accurate than a machine and its ability to look inside my belly.

Story for JFo

BJMiller — Sun, 02 Jul 2006 18:42:05 GMT

A while ago, JFo asked me to write a story of inspiration. I said I would do it, and then I forgot. I saw her a little while ago at a wedding, and it all came back. I said I would do this thing... Better late than never. Here is my story. I know that life sometimes give you things you don’t expect. The things you receive can either show up as good things, or bad things. There is more truth than I ever would have thought in the “be careful what you wish for…” saying. I was given an incredible gift. I was able to swim. I had a feel for the water. I loved to play in it, to swim in it and to move like a fish. I could take fewer strokes and move further, faster down the pool than my competitors. I had friends who were jealous when I could show up to the swim meet and win races without having to train hard. And of course, when you are given a gift like this, you take it for granted. Because you’ve never known anything else. Being a great swimmer was natural for me. So, I made it hard for myself by getting in my own way. When I was 14, I qualified for the Olympic Trials. I went to the Trials with delusions of grandeur. The year I had qualified, I had been consistent. I didn’t practice hard, I just went every day. Once I started to understand the gravity of making an Olympic team, the sabotage began. I stopped going to practice. When I went, I would hide in the locker room and take a shower before practice was over so my mother thought I had swum when she picked me up. At the end of the day, I was as afraid of success as I was of failure. But failure was comfortable and didn’t challenge me. So I stuck with it. In 1988, I attended the Olympic Trials and placed somewhere around third-to-last. I was sad. I hadn’t qualified for the team I had not deserved to qualify for. What I fought with then, and what I fight with now, is the underlying thought that I am not good enough. Even if I prove myself in one instant, the next succession of moments of now beg the question of whether or not I will be able to do so again. I went to the University of Texas from 1990-1994. Another Olympic Trials came around. This time, I was 19. I was ranked #2 in the country. At least this time I made the final. The sabotage was different this time. Instead of not showing up to practice, I would party and stay out late, burning the candle at both ends until I was too exhausted to perform at my peak. And I needed to do that to qualify for the hardest team to make in swimming. I was 7th at the Trials. After college, I continued to train through the ’96 Trials. Coming into that competition, I was ranked #1 in the US in two events. I was as much a shoo-in as you could be. I just had to stand up and race. In the days and moments leading up to the competition, I was petrified. I was again placing myself in a public stage, standing up to race the best in the country, indeed, the best in the world, to see if I was good enough. What if I gave it all, and didn’t make it? What if I didn’t hold anything back, what if I didn’t give myself a reason why it would be OK to not make it, like that I drank too much, or I partied all the time, and THEN was still found not worthy? The thoughts made me sick. I choked in my best race. I got third place. The first two finishers get to go to the Olympics. Everyone else goes home. I was such a wreck after not making it, I didn’t even final in the other race I swam. I retired from the sport. I got a job as a bartender with an art history degree. I was lost. I had no job experience. I had no confidence. I was a drain on anyone who spent any time around me. With much fear and trepidation, I came back to the sport with an invitation from Jonty Skinner, a coach in Colorado. Four more years passed. Again, I was at the Olympic Trials. Again, I was ranked first. The pressure, again, was smothering me. I woke up the day of the final and immediately felt sick. I went to the pool (because that’s what you do). I swam and felt better. My race wasn’t until 6 p.m. I went back to my hotel room to try to relax. I failed. I started to get more and more nervous. This was the day that I had been marking on my calendar for four years. I had joined this team at 23, sure I wouldn’t last more than a year. Now, I was 27, and one of the oldest members of the National Team. I had forgone looking for a job, and I had put all my eggs in one basket. Today was judgment day, and I had roughly one minute to prove myself. One minute of time that I had been training for for four years. After battling my demons without much success for the entire day, I went to the pool again to warm up for my show down with destiny. I was pale. I was scared. I did my routine, and nothing made me feel better. I threw up after my massage. Finally, a friend told me that my high school coach had come in from Scotland to watch the competition. I asked to see him, and she got him down on the deck for a short while. When I saw him, he grabbed me and hugged me so tight that I didn’t know what to do. I struggled to get away from the bear hug that he had wrapped me in, but I couldn’t. After fighting and attempting to flail out of his grasp for maybe 15 or 20 seconds, I went limp. All the fear, all the tightness, all the self-loathing I had built up in my life seeped out of my limbs as I just let him hold me. At some level, I needed whatever it was that he provided for me. All during this time, he had been telling me a story. When the story was done, he let me go, and he looked at me. “You look much better,” he said. “I feel much better,” I replied. “Thank you, Chris.” I won the 100 meter backstroke at the 2000 U.S. Olympic Trials. It wasn’t a spectacular race, but it solidified me as the top American for the year, and as a member of the most highly decorated Olympic squad in any non-boycott Olympics -- so, ever. I stood, I faced my fears, and I won. I proved to no one in the world that I was good enough to be among the best of the best. I walked away from that competition a new woman. Not because I had triumphed over my fears so much, but because I had always had an excuse before that. I had always thought that if I had just been able to achieve more, that I would be a better person, and I wouldn’t hate myself so much. When I did what I had dreamed of, I realized that I didn’t have excuses anymore. All I was left with was of my own creation. I got from that experience that I was powerful enough to create my own destiny, and that I always had been. I had just chosen to create something that I was comfortable in – my own insecurity. Now, at 33, looking back, I realize that I have always had everything I needed to be great. And I have always had everything I needed to fail. And failing is only what you do until you succeed. I was a member of the gold-medal-winning, world-record-holding women’s 4 x 100 medley relay at the Olympics in 2000. And it’s not really even the best thing about me. I hope you can take away from my story the fact that people, no matter who they are, are powerful beyond measure. They can create and destroy their own lives based on the way they think. I am a normal person who was lucky enough to be in the sport that I should have been. Had I chosen a different sport, I would not have this story to tell, at least not one so grand. I had luck, I had talent, but most of all, I never gave up.

Scare

BJMiller — Wed, 28 Jun 2006 04:17:10 GMT

I am not pregnant. But I thought I might be. And that wasn't in the PLAN. I had been getting cramps for a few days, and that was what happened last time. The timing wouldn't have been ideal. We had talked. We wanted to have the next one in about a year. But if it had happened... we would have run with it. I mean, an abortion is simply not an option for me at this stage of my life. I don't think that I could do it knowing that the child that would grow would be the product of me and Tom. Anyway. I thought I was pregnant. And I got STRESSED. I mean, I didn't, but it would have changed everything. Again. And I'm OK with change, but .... whew! Ah, big breath, big sigh of relief. And a little of not. Because we do want another baby. We had just talked about not doing it until Arden was 2, and she just turned 1. I'd like for Tom to be a little closer to finishing school, and I'd like to be a little more firmly ensconced in my job before I let them know that I'll be taking a few months to get to know the new member of the famliy. But there's the little voice in my head that tells me that now is as good a time as ever... fuck the plan. Go get knocked up again, girl! Get the whole pregnancy thing over with. And the diapers. Get them over with, too. I've never been one to wait for much. But I think it is the right choice for me for now. Well, it's the one I'm making, anyway. Ahhhhhhh... the constant babble in my head. Just being. That's why I write it down. So it doesn't fill my head when I could be thinking about saving the world instead of the next baby I'm gonna have. :) In time. In time.

Who am I being?

BJMiller — Sun, 18 Jun 2006 20:09:19 GMT

Wow. Who am I being that all this that I have been "struggling" for for the last few years is all coming to me, and more? I forget that I can do anything, that I can have anything. I forget that all I do is decide - make that choice, and it all happens. Six years ago, I would not have seen myself here. I am a mother. Six years ago, I did not know my husband. Six years ago, I only know what was in my very near future. After that, I had no idea. Six years ago, I thought I had experienced the best days of my life. I was wrong. Now, I stand on the precipice of occupational freedom. I mean, the job I had been chasing and had been looking for is days away from being mine. And I'm days away from having the option of taking it or leaving it. Because there's another option that has come to me, and I'm taking it, at least somewhat. I have joined a band of consultants, and though the group has yet to sign its first client, I feel as though the people that are assembled are among the best in the world. LITERALLY. Of the two people I know, one is John Cady. John is one of the most brilliant and amazing people I have ever had the pleasure to meet and spend time with. If he is involved, I know this will succeed. But why, then, do I have the fear to commit to it? Because being involved with this group has been easy, has been obvious. And working with Nike, I've had to work, I've had to prove my worth to them. And I feel like that aligns more with the way I see myself. I see myself as worth it, but I want to show you how great I can be. The consultants already have a listening of me that is greatness. All I have to do is step into it. Which is why it makes me nervous. These are the days. I feel like I'm starting to be in the conversation of flood -- and I have to learn to manage it. And I know I can. Why? Because I still take the time to play solitaire. That's how I know I can manage it. :) *breathing* *breathing*

Rolling on the roller coaster

BJMiller — Wed, 31 May 2006 01:45:29 GMT

Today is my daughter's first birthday. A year ago today, I could not even fathom making it to this day. Oh, of course I knew it would happen. It ALWAYS happens. Time passes. You move from one phase into another. You learn, you forget, you move on, you go back, you revisit, you re-learn... but I don't know that we ever re-learn the things my little daughter is learning right now. She is learning the art of walking without help from something solid. She is learning to make her mouth say words. She is learning what will create her world for the rest of her life. And every day she learns something new, it is of such vital and inspirational importance, that her life is never the same again. Imagine learning something so important in your life every day, every week, every year, even that your life is never recognizable as the same life EVER AGAIN. This is the transformation my child is experiencing. She is incredible. She is her own super-hero right now, and I love it. And me? What am I? These days, the question pops out of my peace and rears its head again. Time to re-learn a bit about me again. I am so peaceful in general. I am so grateful for all that I have and who I have become. I am so present to the fact that many people can not have children, and they want them. I have my daughter, and she is very wanted, very loved, and very cherished. Her hurts are all heal-able so far, and I can carry her in my arms when she feels bad. I can be her comfort. I ache for her when she is in pain. So, as I find myself slipping into the familiar tangent of talking about my daughter, my beautiful choice, I come back to my original question: what am I? Things, nouns flash into my head. My job, my husband, my family, my ... what? What is left? What is missing? Am I my missings? No, I don't think I am. I know people who are. All they're present to is what they don't have, what is missing, what they are striving for. Their conversation is the wanting. But that isn't me. I am passion. I am perserverance. I am grace. I am brilliance of spirit and mind. Ah, but what is there that is inspiration? I know I inspire others. I love that. And it's not that it's something I seek, it's that I am who I am and I love the way I do. I am self-expression; oh, yes. I know that one. I am who I choose to be today. Maybe the question I was looking to answer was the one I hadn't posed to myself today: "Who am I today?" *smile* I love that. Today, I am love. Today I am fierce. I just have to remind myself to choose it, rather than check my brain at the door and go through the motions. Roll on, brotha. Roll on.

Waiting for 9 p.m.

BJMiller — Wed, 24 May 2006 03:11:45 GMT

Do you ever find yourself waiting to go to bed? Is there even any purpose to that if you're not getting over jet-lag? Tonight, after Arden went to bed (7 p.m.), all I could think about was going to bed. And today wasn't even a tough one. Today was fun. The family went to lunch at the Spicy Pickle, and then dad was off to Home Depot to get things for the house -- he's framing out a big cabinet for the bathroom and putting a fan in there. Arden and I went shopping. We bought two new Baby Einstein videos (she LOVES them). Then, we went to drop off a present for one of our friends who's leaving town tomorrow (moving to Northern California). On the way back home, we stopped into the midwifery where we went before Arden was born. We got lucky and the midwife who assisted in the birth was there. Shiela was so excited to see Arden getting so big and so coordinated and walking and all (So early!). All the midwives say that it is the best part of the job when moms come back with their babies for them to see. I can't imagine playing such a vital role in LIFE. I know it is a choice they make. Helping babies be born has to be one of the most satisfying, beautiful, difficult, stressful, blissful occupations in the world. I don't envy them. I admire them. I have work to do. I'm not doing it. I have to go over the base-level form contracts we do for our teams and put in some things, take some things out, basically proof them for spelling and grammar and make sure they all follow the same formatting. There are about six or seven, so it's not a big deal. I've had this task for a couple of weeks, and I'm avoiding it. Strange. I ran into my thesis chair yesterday. He wants me to finish my master's. I think it's about time. I've taken a year off after having Arden. If I can swing it, I think it will help me in my quest for... (so many things come to mind. Money? Life? Satisfaction? Growth and continuation?) Being on that road. Finishing what I started. And I don't have much to go. I just need to pull myself together. And maybe have day care once or twice a week. Well, I suppose that's all for now. I don't know if I said what I came to say, but I've at least gotten past 9:00. Goodnight, sweet butterflies.

The Play-doh

BJMiller — Sat, 20 May 2006 17:20:01 GMT

Ah, the drama when I let it be drama. Why is it I have such a hard time HAVING FAITH?? I very rarely give others the opportunity to contribute to me. I find it very interesting that this is where I decided to go with this blog, when my intention was completely not to go in this direction. My intention is to speak about the new possibilities in my life. Tom has finished the outside of our addition, and we now have to put in the insulation, then dry wall, then flooring. Not too long after that, we'll be able to move into the 680 square feet of space that will be attached to our current house, and we'll have a new bedroom. I can't wait. Nike has decided to create a position for me. The time-line is September 1. I don't know the specifics, except that it will be a salary for what I am currently doing, as opposed to getting paid bianually. I will also have full benefits and a real job. Thank God. And something else may be coming down the pike here. A friend is starting a company. He has asked me to come on board. I'm definitely considering it. He's also such a dear friend that I would do anything to help him get his venture off the ground. The compensation he's talking about, however, is significant (or would be to me), so I am hoping it all goes very well. I let my money situation be drama for me for a while. Now, I think I'll just let it go. What I did was put it out there into the world that my life in that section wasn't going the way I wanted it to, and I'd been hiding that from everyone I know except my husband. It seems like it's all coming around and things are pouring in. I've gotten a few requests for clinics (I get paid $1,500/day), which is always great, even though I haven't set any of them up yet. It's all just happening and sometimes coming together, or threatening to do so. :) Arden took her first steps on Thursday. I was so proud, I cried. My life is amazing. In love in the play doh

The Step I Was Born to Make

BJMiller — Wed, 03 May 2006 22:23:14 GMT

I've always known I wanted to be a mom. I don't know that I've ever had a notion of what that would be like. I don't know that I can explain it now. There are parts that are hard, getting harder. There are parts that started out hard, and are getting easier. Looking into that little mirror of me, seeing my face on that tiny girl, and watching her beam at me because I said hello, or walked into the room -- that's easy. Priceless, as they say. Leaving her for any reason at any time wtih any one is hard. My heart stays with her. I know I still need my own life, and I'd never give that up. I leave her in the day care and go work out at the gym, I leave her with my husband when I go swim or to the library, or just somewhere alone, and it never gets easier. It used to be that I HAD to get back because I was her food source. Now, I just want to be with her, and there's something in me that thinks that no one could possibly be the mother that I am or take care of her as well. But when I come back, I see my husband in the role he loves as her father, and it makes my heart melt. I was born to be this woman. Everything in my life has been prelude to this. I am living the dream this minute as I sit in my home with the man of my dreams, family I love and the dream job I made up (just need to get paid more for it now, but that 's coming). In am moment, I am in such peace. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't know where I'm going or what I'll be doing in five years. I do know that I love being this woman who takes care of this little girl and I love being the woman who is in love with my husband. Life before her is foggy. I am so present to how lucky I am to be in the life I have. I like to think that before I was born, the souls had choices on a big shelf, and I chose this one. With all it's crap, it's got this amazing, shining beauty that I feel in my bones and in my heart. Because I would choose this life to live over again. ~in love

South Beach

BJMiller — Sat, 29 Apr 2006 02:25:32 GMT

I tried the South Beach diet. For three days. Then, I threw up. So, I started eating carbs again. I think there' s something about purging your cells of what they have been used to burning. What was left was the scuzz that lives in the bottom of the cells or something. I really felt like I had put diesel in a regular gas engine or something. I just don't know that the diet was meant for me with my exercise regiment. I work out an average of 8 hours a week, I'd guess. And that's a lot less than I USED to work out, so it seemed really little. It's probably closer to 6. But I'm adding in volleyball at least once a week, probably twice since it's summer. Oh, and there' s the spin class I've been doing on Saturdays. And the running... but I haven't been running lately... ANYWAY. I started the SB Diet. I like the whole veggie thing, but I just don't think my body can run on so few calories, and so little instant energy. So, I had a beer and a muffin and gave up. And it's expensive! I spent $300 on groceries and I just shopped M-Th on the meals! Lots of meat and fresh veggies. I think I'll try to pick back up when the farmer's markets open here in Fort Collins. I don't have much weight to lose anyway. I should just work out more. That seems to be what's best for me. I can eat more veggies and just pay attention a little and I'll probably drop some weight. And no beer. That should do the trick. Those last 10 have been tough to shed for me so far. Well, that's kind of lying. I'm back to where I was pre-pregnancy, but I didn't like where I was, so I'm on a quest to get to a better place. Like 145. I'm 155 now. Thanks for listening to me blogging. :)

Meeting people on planes

BJMiller — Sat, 29 Apr 2006 02:17:21 GMT

Do you ever notice how you can meet someone on a plane and feel this amazing connection? I met a woman on the plane when I was on my way back to Colorado from Florida. I was on my way home from work, and this lady was just lit up. She was so cool and fun and light. I absolutely connected with her, and think she's awesome. I gave her my card, and she walked out of my life. But I got an e-mail and we're gonna get together when I get down to Denver some time. She broke up with the guy she had been seeing after our conversation. He didn't love her -- he'd told her that, but she had forgotten she was worth loving. Sometimes it takes a stranger to tell you something you've known your whole life but forgot to hear from your friends.

Success and Failure

BJMiller — Sun, 05 Mar 2006 03:06:53 GMT

I know something about success and failure. I've done both on all levels of life. I've lived the drama that I created with both as well. When I was an athlete, I had fears. Most of them were about the fear of not being good enough. Only the most logical place I would go in the world: to sports competition. I suppose I should have said that I still have that fear, but it's a little softer now, a little further away. My life as it is now is not the testing of that utterance, "I'm not good enough." My life now is about being a mother -- and that keeps me in NOW, not so much in my own past and the life I led before being a parent. But I digress. Success is a STEP. Failure is a STEP. Actually, failure is the step right before success. In order to succeed, it is imperative to fail. And the best thing in the world you can do is fail at the thing you want most. And then not quit. Because failure is no end in itself. True, in the most extreme circumstances, failure is an end to life, but for most of us, not getting the job, losing the relationship, getting disqualified, falling, whatever it is, doesn't end life, it just ends the moment. And ask anyone in the world who has succeeded, life doesn't end there, either. After I won at the Olympics, I took my medal out to bars for a while. "Will this get me a free drink?" I'd ask coyly. And for a little while, it worked. Then one time, I walked to the front of a line waiting to get into a bar and asked, "If I have an Olympic gold medal, can I just come in?" The door man looked at me, unimpressed. "No." And that was the end of it for me. It was probably about two months after the games. I figured I had ridden it as far as it would go. I returned to life. Funny enough, I don't think I have shared that with any but those who were there that night. Ah, well. It's in the past. And in some ways, I've let that door man determine the way I am about one of the most wonderful, amazing achievements known to man. Interesting tangent, when that wasn't what I thought I would say here. I suppose the point is that these two LOADED terms, the terms we allow to segregate us and place us in the categories of "winner" and "loser" are nothing but our own imaginations. These are all comparisons. And ultimately, no comparison truly matters. You get what you get. The grass may be greener over there, but guess what -- it's still grass. All you have is who you are. The label of winner or loser is just as arbitrary as blonde or hypocrite. They're made-up words. They only mean what you bring to them. AND that is what will make the difference. My advice, as one who has been to the mountain-top is to just live. Be the best YOU you can be, because that is the winning. And then, you live another day. It keeps going, and as much as we think the sun won't come up again, it always seems to creep up anyway. You'll win, you'll lose. But until you can learn to let it all go and not make it determine how you think about the person you've chosen to be, your life won't hold all it can. Peace.