Athletics Carnivals - a particularly cruel torture?

It has recently come to my attention that my old High School had its annual athletics carnival recently. And this got me thinking.

I have never been 'fit'. Ever. I don't run. It's just not a thing. I was always a cerebral child; reading, playing some instrument or the other, you get the picture. Sport was never something which interested me, and nor, when I participated in school sport classes, did I ever feel a love between sport and I grow.


Now, this idea of an athletics carnival I find particularly abhorrent. First of all, it ain't no carnival. A carnival has cool rides, and fairy floss, and bright flashing lights. An athletics carnival has only children being forced to compete against one another in a grossly unflattering school sports uniform, being bossed around by the teacher who is given the mic for the day. But perhaps it is named so deliberately, in order to trick children like me (except they'd be slightly less intelligent, and fall for it) into believing that this 'carnival' would be fun! and full of great things!
But what is the worst part of it, is the public humiliation. It was bad enough for me being forced to do the 1600m run in mere PE class, as I was inevitably the (or one of) last person to complete it in the so-called 'fitness training' (until I stopped running it, and walked the damn thing instead - my teacher actually stopped bothering to time me). But within my own class, the humiliation of being so utterly uncoordinated and unfit was restricted to only the 19 or so other girls who made up my class.
Athletics Carnivals do not consider the Alices of the school. Everybody is forced to participate in at least one event. And there are mostly events where students are forced to run. So it was many years of doing my pathetic run-trot in front of an entire school that was faced directly towards the athletics track, until I finally persuaded my mother to just let me stay home and be more productive through music practice, or schoolwork instead. What was particularly cruel twist of fate here, is that every time mother did cave in and said 'it's ok, you can stay home', the day was rainy and the 'carnival' was cancelled.

Power: alternatively titled 'LISTEN TO MAH PROBLEMS"

Yes, I'm going to be all self indulged. As we know, blogging is never self indulgent in any form, so this should be some really groundbreaking stuff. 


My parents are divorced, and my father's current long-term partner (woman, not man, just to clear that up) is, in layman's terms, bat-shit-fuck-nuts-fruity-loopy crazy. Not in the fun way either. 
She has never taken to my sister or me, and particularly considering that I am the younger by several years, she reserves a special place in her black twisted heart for hating me. 
We have come to a point where she tolerates me. Sort of. What I mean by tolerates is that she says hello to me. In recent years I sort of gave up trying to make conversation with her as she'd cut it off as soon as was possible, generally by turning to whomever she was next to and starting a conversation with them. Yet in more recent times her thing is to actually avert her gaze from my person. 


Last year, and I will remember this until I die, she actually addressed a room in the third person - I was the only occupant - rather than directly address me. A handy trick if ever you want to really disconcert someone. 


So I was thinking about this. Where is the power here? In the woman who, in the words of my (eloquent) sister 'must suck like a 'Puerto Rican hooker', or me?
I came to the conclusion that in fact, I am the one here who holds the most power, as I inspire such hatred, and such fear, that she literally can't bring herself to look at me. In her crazy messed up mind, I am someone of such menace, that she wants to pretend I'm not there to make herself feel better. 
Despite this, the fact that someone just ignored your 586314th attempt to be courteous to them is pretty soul-crushing, particularly when you're attempting to conform to a level of etiquette, and not actually call them on the fact that they're a massive douchebag (obviously also not descending to their level is additionally factored into this).


So let us leave this blog post with the question, where is power? How can you determine who has it and who doesn't, and what is it that gives one person power?
Ok so that was actually more like 'the many questions'.
And perhaps more importantly, does having such power over another person mean you shouldn't feel like crap when they're an asshole to you?

On boyfriend

Recently I have decided that altering my diet was quite a good idea, given that I have previously had a rather unhealthy relationship to food as a track record.

Pre diet change the levels of sugar that I consumed on a regular (ok, daily) basis were probably toxic to most humans. I have indicated to boyfriend that this is perhaps something I should worry about, and in true boyfriend style, he took wholly to my plan to improve myself.

Before I say anything further, boyfriend is a very healthy eater, strictly regulating his refined sugar intake.

Were I to tell him that yesterday when I was feeling a bit down, I consumed an entire 190 gram block of chocolate (to be fair, I didn't realise that I had eaten quite so much until I reached the end itself), he would recoil in a horror greater than were I to tell him about some truly weird and whacky fetish I held near and dear to my heart.

Yet on the whole, let's face it, where else would I find someone who adores me, despite my odd animal noises to express extremes of sentiment, despite my cuh-razy notions and ideas (and moods), and despite my extreme and ongoing abuse of him. He is also an excellent pillow.

And let's face it, good pillows are hard to find.