I Quit. Part II

Did you read "I Quit?" That's part 1 and you'll be confused and left out if you don't read it first.

...Continued from "I Quit."

23 years old. After beating my sunburnt competitors for a silver medal in Hawaii, I found the fresh training environment I needed to reach my competitive potential to regularly finish "middle of the pack." I got so good, I could beat my toughest rivals when they made at least 3 mistakes! The 2009 Eastern Sectional Championships was my shining moment as a competitor. I skated my best performance, ending with tears of joy to a standing, slightly drunk ovation. I never knew I could be so proud of a 7th-place finish! I couldn't quit in my prime, so I continued to train for the next year.

I Quit.

"I quit."

I QUIT!

Don't fear - I'm not quitting the volunteer blogging business. But these are words I'm not good at saying, along with "no" and "Britney's past her prime." I'm good at leaving things unfinished like cleaning and writing books, but once I'm committed, I'm not a quitter. I don't even quit jobs; I just move or I'm asked to stop showing up because I "graduated." And technically, I'm still working on my book and my room, even if my work's been on hiatus since 2012.

I have quit ice skating: many times. But in quitting skating, I've been an utter failure. I'm the hen who cried wolf of ending my skating career. After my tearful, dramatic farewell to Hens on Ice lasted a mere 6 weeks, no one believes me when I cry again at the next show and say, "This is it!" You'll all be sorry one day when you don't take my sobbing farewell to the ice seriously, whether that day comes this year or before my 2048 presidential run. Until then, let's reflect on my history of quitting.

PULSE and Other Things That Suck

Even the funniest birds don't cackle 24/7. The Cackling Hen is a pretty funny bird, but even this cackler gets blue. Sometimes blue can still be funny and I love self-deprecating humor, like look how I can't cope leaving Hens on Ice! or look how my bedroom is decorated like a 12-year-old girl's! But then there's the other kind of blue, a deeper depression and/or tragic shattering event. That recent, horrid event that out-blued the other tragic events in the news was the Orlando Pulse massacre.

I can't put fitting words to the tragedy that happened at Pulse. It's unimaginable. It's beyond disgusting, horrifying, senseless, and tragic. Seeing the news unfold jarred me at my core and sunk my heart to an unknown depth. It is just unreal, and I don't think my brain will ever 100% compute such a horror. Just down the road from me and knowing that my hen friends and I frequent the gay bar, it rattled me more than any other attack because it could have easily been any of us there. In my mind, just like we hope schools and churches to be safe havens, places like Pulse have been safe havens for many up to this point. Although acceptance of all people continues to progress, there are still many people all over the world who don't feel they can fully be themselves for whatever reasons. A place like Pulse is supposed to be a safe escape where anyone can come, no matter who someone is or who someone wants to be, and have fun. Great music, cheap drinks, fun, attractive people, drag shows - what's not to love? Tragically, just as the domestic terrorists and deranged souls have entered our elementary schools, our churches, our college campuses, our movie theaters, and our malls, one has now targeted and bloodied the gay bar. It just sucks.

The Power of the Unfollow (EXCLUDING UNFOLLOWING THE HEN!)

Sorry not sorry.

What happened to all the days between May 4 and today? It's too astonishing to address or consider, so I won't.

Instead, I write here today to urge all of you in my coop to take action in your social media lives and to teach something I've learned recently. I will not be teaching you middle school science, figure skating, or kindergarten phonics; I'm here to teach you the power of the "unfollow." You may have also just learned proper semicolon usage (see previous sentence).

First and most importantly, this unfollow lesson DOES NOT APPLY TO THE CACKLING HEN. DO NOT EVER UNFOLLOW THE CACKLING HEN. That would be a horrible life choice and you will cry when this bird takes off for entertainment domination and you're out of the coop.

Teaching Science

Don't know what I'm doing.

As I've written about pursuing a teaching career and having Mr. Cackling Hen's classroom, I've spent months reaching out to various schools for substitute teaching and applying to full-time roles. Many schools have their own application process for substitute teaching, so I've humbly jumped through the hoops, cut the read tape, given fingerprints multiple times (for multiple fees), and given up blood samples and my future first-born child. I even sat in on a 6th grade class (See "Mr Cackling Hen's Grand Debut."), but I recently had my actual debut where I was in charge.


I didn't fully know what to expect for my first time leading a group of students, especially 6th graders. I envisioned them laughing at my worldly stories and jokes, as I threw the lesson plans out the window and became the coolest teacher ever. I also envisioned utter chaos, with students running around the room, throwing things, cursing at me, and having no respect for authority. It would probably be one of these two situations, and I really hoped for the former.

The Best of the Unfinished Archives!

Call me.

Like any famous author, The Cackling Hen has an overflowing library of unfinished, unpublished works. And instead of finishing just one of those articles and pretending it's still relevant, (May the partial articles on swine flu and Alex from Target rest in peace.) I am presenting the best of my unfinished articles for your partial enjoyment. You may call this a "cop out" like my article on or you might call it "Seinfeld-esque" like one drunk fan. I'm going with the latter to boost my self-esteem.
"Writing About Not Writing,"

In no particular order, here are some of the best "could-have-been," sensational articles that you'll never read in full. But knowing what you're missing might offer you some closure.

Waking Up in Lisbon

Coping.

As I wrote in "Stages of Emotional Coping Leaving Hens on Ice," transitioning from life on the road to stationary, mediocre employment has its challenges. The coping still continues many months after my August departure. Some days, I coped fine, filled with excitement as I applied to new job prospects. Other days, I coped by joining another ice show for 2 months. As I still find ways to cope in March, I now wonder what may be clinically wrong with me. But pushing that aside, my recent coping strategy was a surprise visit to Europe to see my old show and hen friends.

Since September, my old Hen troop has been touring Western Europe in a similar route to my first year with Hens on Ice. When I bid farewell to dear friends in August, I vowed I'd try to visit during the European tour. It would be a great excuse to visit Europe and see my friends.

The Hen's Biggest Race Ever

It's just so good.

I am done acknowledging time gaps between Hen articles that are longer than I want. Typically, this is every gap between every article because I'd love to have a new article daily. But this is not feasible with my busy schedule of part-time work, getting fingerprinted for each individual teaching job I apply to, and keeping up with American Idol. Now that that's off my breast, onward with my huge announcement! (It's not Trump-related. Keep reading.)

Tomorrow is a big day for The Hen! I won't be trying to steal an acting role from a 12 year old - I've already done that. I'll be flapping in my first 5K run!

Mr. Cackling Hen's Grand Debut!

MY BIG DAY!

Today was a huge day for The Hen's new career - the first day in the classroom as Mr. Cackling Hen! I didn't get paid, I didn't teach anything, nor did I really talk to any chickadees, but I was back in classroom desks for the first time since USFSP mercifully passed me through their graduate program.

To become a potential substitute teacher, I sat in on a few classes, jittery off too much coffee and hungry for knowledge, experience, and a breakfast sandwich. And I knew today would probably be the big day where I was first introduced as "Mr. Cackling Hen." It was.

Bar Flies That Need Swatting

Lakeland's hot spot, once.

My friend SamHentha and I recently flapped to a local Lakeland watering hole for a few drinks, reminiscing, and hopefully a free drag show. It was a bumpin' spot when 3 casts of Hens on Ice were in town a few years ago, and it's never lived up the grandeur since. Regardless, it's fun to comment on how much less fun it is without 50 of our skating hens.

When the drag show took a horrendous turn into "stand-up comedy," all the crazies from Lakeland got bored with the entertainment and turned to us as fresh meat. We've all dealt with the random drunk stranger at the bar who just wants to be friends, but on this night, these hammered birds pulled up stools and joined our table for two. We had the fortune of dealing with multiple types of drunks, and it reminded me of the different kinds of crazies that I never want to speak to at the bar.