A terrible, terrible thing happened yesterday.
But it’s not what you think.
It’s not the incident during which I was sexually assaulted. It’s what came after that.
I came precariously close to forgetting who I am.
Most of you know me as HRH, Princess Scribe (issues royal wave). However, some of you know me by another name – SheVour.
Who is SheVour? SheVour jogs, usually around 5 miles, but has been known to hit 9 if Mercury is out of retrograde. SheVour scales chain-link fences in order to save pudgy pups wedged in drainpipes. SheVour takes care of elderly women who have fallen on the sidewalk and scraped their knees. SheVour pulls 4 consecutive all-nighters in order to get an episode through post. SheVour kicks ass.
I was telling a friend about the incident; I recounted what the police suggested: “You have every right to jog on the streets or outside, but you might consider doing it inside. On a treadmill. In a gym.”
“That’s bullshit,” he said.
While I thank the officers for being so kind to me, and treating me with kid gloves, for I was feeling quite fragile, I have to say that their suggestion is pure bona-fide cattle droppings. It’s a fear-based reaction to stranger danger. And that is what is wrong with our society – we have turned into a nation of quaking cowards, lining our abodes with technology: home theatre systems, gaming systems, streaming everything, home gyms, so we no longer need to go outside. We’re a bunch of chicken-shits, who numb ourselves with 24/7 streams of music, videos, movies, newstainment. We blindly accept the words of the pundits – both left and right – as dogma, and we embrace Seussical radicalism – again both left and right – and call it action from the safety of our Barcaloungers.
Ahem. What was I talking about?
Oh, yes. Me.
Anyway, as I sat there in the car, listening to this bad advice, in my mind’s eye, I was standing, hands on hips, head cocked to one side, saying “Seriously?”
I’ve decided to ignore them.
I ran today. I will tomorrow. And the morrow after, and the next morrow after, and so on, and so on, and so on.
I am adding martial arts training as an additional form of recreation.
Six weeks from now, I will run that same route again. I hope he shows up. Truly, I do.
Suckit, Mr. Hands. I am SheVour.
Now, go write.
HRH, Princess Scribe