Monthly Archives: June 2011

I Stay True To Me!


If anyone knows me, they know I hate liars and I rarely, if EVER say a lie myself.  I also have this preference that’s considered star quality to have:  Taking the higher road.  There are times when I desire nothing more than to stoop to someone’s filthy miserable demonic level.  But I won’t.  Then there are times when revenge  could be rather fucking sweet!  However, waiting to strike at the perfect time preferably when shit can hit on a real personal level.. as I assist HR in the firing of your job knowing you have a mortgage to pay, 4 kids to feed including a wife is the fucking sweetest. *lick lips to the death*

Listen, there’s right and then there’s wrong.  Some people fight for justice.  (Like me!  This may be the Superhero within me, besides the Villian that lurks in the backseat with Pearl Jam‘s shotgun.)  Some folks avoid throwing up their hands. Not because they’re defenseless.  They apparently don’t give a shit, prefer not to be bothered all so they remain brainless like cattle.  Where’s the round of applause for these muthafuckers?  And then there are people who rather kill and sleep with a notorious secret until their graves come a’knocking.  I guess it all depends on your their/character?  Still though, I know two wrongs don’t make a right yet they can make things even ..so it seems..  But I only adhere to that when it’s completely necessary and not because I find my life completely uninteresting that I take it upon myself to stir the best drama known to man.

What is this about?  Taking that High  Road.  Despite my associate’s pretend friendship with me.  I won’t let her jealousy become something personal to my vision.  There’s been quite a few instances when she attacks me for no apparent reason reminding me of my Bipolar mother.  It’s pretty evident she hates her life, her job, her physique among other things.  But does it make it right how she displays her misery by lashing out on others?  It speaks volumes about her character.  Yet she doesn’t understand why I keep her at arm’s length.

This time around she dares to lie to me and announces how one of her (imaginary?) friends on Facebook has informed her of my Squat and how I should straighten my back.  Firstly, her friend has no way of seeing my photo.  I’m not friends with them and I changed my Setting to be Protected or what have you not so long ago.  She couldn’t woman up and tell me how she REALLY feels about what’s underneath.  Second, this is coming from two suckers who clearly have no experience in personal training, exercising, biomechanics, body alignment, an eye for body positioning, workout techniques, injuries, trigger points, DOMS or has even worked the life of trial and error among other technical and non-technical shit I can list.  It’s completely unfortunate that this is the same lady who comes to me directly for advice about Training and Diet while complaining and whining like this.  This is what she mention after I asked her, “Are you patient?”:

“No I’m not. In a funk now. My job is stressful. I’m always grumpy. I jus feel like giving up n jus being fat. Jus to lose, I’m gaining n it takes months to see results. I’ll go to nyc n everyone is gonna jus see me chubby. N u kno Puerto ricans saying wit they feel.

At wrk Idk y I bring so many healthy snacks. I eat when I’m bored, or stressed. I’m a compulsive eater. I eat to eat. Not cuz km hungry.

I jus wish I was thin again.”

And my response (see below) is the same I would give any ordinary person despite my on the surface feelings.  I’m aware how I can be a bitch.  I’m also aware that I can influence and shape a person’s mind.  So, why not use my good despite the shit she tries to inflict?  When all is said and done  Karma is going to bless me in return.  ;)

Dear Amiga,

Every woman in my family has given up and chose to be fat.  I tried that for a few years and felt miserable everyday.  I didn’t even feel confident in the sexual department anymore.  I say if it makes you happy than GO for it.  Some people live thick/fat lives and are happy.  It’s possible.  I know it doesn’t make me happy.  And I rather keep fighting until I get to where I want to be.  It separates me from others.  It’s easy to give up.  It’s harder to fight.  I have faith in you.  But patience and discipline is what you need day in and day out.  Those are the main ingredients.

Maybe you aren’t ready to do this and will come back to it once you’re ready.  That’s happened to me before.  Being bored and hungry?  Hm.  I used to be that way too.  Once in a while it happens but I do my best now to control it with: a handful of almonds or a 5oz glass of red sweet wine.   This is one reason why I stop watching TV because sitting in front of it would keep me at mindless eating.  So rather than eat, I drink lots and lots of water.  Now I can watch shows on Netflix and it keeps my eyes, mind and ears busty and away from eating.

Do you drink water?  I buy the biggest bottle/gallon I can find.  Or fill up my Liters with Brita from the fridge in the morning/afternoon.  I bring lots of water everywhere I go and this is why my bag is always heavy.  But on the plus side it works out my traps. :) :)

You just have to change your attitude and perspective about losing weight.  Yes. It’s difficult.  Yes.  You’re going to need patience.  And yes YOU’RE the only one held accountable.  It truly is up to you whether or not you want to keep fighting for something that would make you happy when all is said and done.  And if not, then can you admit to settling down and giving up? ;)

P.S.

I like to document my shit!

Signing off,
Pennington

In Love (With What)?


I’m in love with the idea of love.
I’m in love with what I’m unaware of.
I’m in love with the fascination
Of illusion, your flaxen enchanting mystery.
I’m in love with the little history
I’ve come across:  You, a gypsy
Moving across countries
Like the commencing of first-graders
Belching out the alphabet line.
I’m in love with taboo of crime.
I’m in love with every finger you point.
In love with every smile of loin you throw.
I’m in love with every invitation,
No matter the trivial circumstance
Of a friend’s circle gone awry.
I’m in love with each hello and every good-bye.
I’m in love with your frivolous romance
Between you and your significant other.
I’m in love with knowing your horoscope sign,
In love that I share the same one and the
Common decree of being a magnificent lover.
I’m in love with the thought and air
Of remaining close, a die-hard undercover.

Pennington

The Sensations of Training Pleasure!


I feel the pulse run through me aggressive and angry just like the mad woman I am with the rage of the inner child at hand.  My hunger grows as the conquest for each and every quality rep.  In my brain I am Pennington Hall and I transform along with the mind/body/muscle connection I thrive on.  The expression on my face turn animal like I imagine the Hulk looked after he was blazed with gamma rays.  And in my head I think of a quote about the Green Mean Power Machine:  “The madder Hulk gets, the stronger Hulk gets!”   SAME AS ME!

Deep in each one of my fingers I sense the surge of the after grip trying to halt my next set with tight forearms of sick ferocity.  I shake them off in a 5-second mark looking down at my Polar Heart Rate Monitor keeping point.  I then go back in and finish strong and hard like my will… mind drifting to all those people who failed and disappointed me in Life.  I won’t be like them.  I’ll be my own Superhero.  And after I’m done with a slight pant it pushes my breasts up and down..probably a sigh of relief or laughter?  I make tight fists.  I open my palm and close them rapidly mimicking a beating bloody heart.  I get amp, amp, AMP!  I want to remember this sensation like every other food, sex, video and reading material addiction.

I eat up these sets like Pac Man to dots.  I rest again, this time between sets and go for 30 seconds or under as I suspend my hand in Training Air and I glance at the jittery nerves going at a speed I can’t fathom.  But it’s all natural.  All induced by the sheer love of lifting, adrenaline and pleasure.  Nothing matters at this moment!  I’m focused.  I no longer carry any worries of the present or of the future.  The ache in my rotator cuff and teres minor become mist until they finally disappear like a hallucination of the night.  And I feel no pain.

I start again on a different exercise and feel my heartbeat rise high.  It raises until my breath escapes my lips.  Or until  I place my lips inward and allow my teeth to rake along the interior of the mouth itself.  I can feel my body growing weary.  I can sense the abuse, the pure pleasure of physical pain.  And I won’t stop.  I won’t stop.  I’m addicted.  This is my orgasmic ride as I grit my teeth.  An “S” lisp-like sound slides out between my tongue and choppers slithering as keen as a snake itself.

Sometimes I wonder will this set go smooth?  Will it be ballistic in any way?  Will it be staggered?  And to flip it quick I tell myself:  There are a shit load of people Training harder than you.  So I go on.  I zone out.  I close my eyes and wash everything out:  The endless floating energy bodies in the gym, the steel in my hand, the mirrors reflecting I of myself, the lady a few feet away from me who obviously has mixed feelings about what I’m performing and who only dares to look at me with my eyes shut.

Pennington

Straight Men Don’t Get Me & I Don’t Get Them


I’ve done a lot of maturing over the years.  So much that it surprises me everyday.  I look at the mirror, stare long and hard as I’m about to lose a staring contest and ask myself, “Who are you?”  I endure all these diverse moods as a part of who I am.  Quite contradictory at times.  But the flow and unbecoming is going exactly how it’s meant to says the inquisitive part of my being.  I’ve always mention to the folks I come across in my life how I love aging!  Aging is more/less a state of mind for me.  Every year I grow to understand my views, dissect them and have a clarity as to what makes me different.

Just to throw an example of one of my awareness bouts:  I have a tendency to try and be friends with someone, until I can’t take it anymore.  I finally have come to the realization on why I don’t have any friends.  It’s because I have a problem accepting stupid people.  I tend to look at people like the dirt on my shoe.  But it’s because I keep standards so lofty that if you aren’t on my wavelength of things, why would I deal with you/them?  And because of this I have now blacklisted just about everyone in my life, including family.

On to other things like:
Why I don’t get straight men and why don’t they get me?

When most men look at me they tell me I’m hot, I’m different, I have a fire in my eyes that can’t be turned down.  And sometimes I tell them straight out or think to myself, Thanks for telling me upfront that you want to fuck me. But really I don’t give a shit.  Save it for the Heterosexual woman who does.  When I talk with men, when they’re done falling in love with my face, apple chunky cheeks and breasts.. they fall in love with my voice.  When I speak how I normally speak: nice (with every person I meet, regardless of gender), they confuse my kindness with flirting and in their minds they automatically believe they have a chance to fuck me.  It helps that my face comes off so darn innocent..they become embedded to the idea that I’m somehow naive.  Now, I don’t get any of this!

When I find a man attractive and even when its getting to the point where I would and could have sex with him.  What makes me think that 1. I’m going to take it there and 2. He’s automatically going to allow me to fuck him or 3. That he would want to fuck me back?  Most straight men I’ve met in my personal life are both stupid and oddly chaotic to me.  I now am fully aware why I don’t find Heterosexual men appealing AT ALL.  Not in the way they approach me, not in the way they talk, not in the way they flirt, not in the way they eye-fuck me, not in the way they play games, not in the straight horny male jokes they pledge like allegiance.

I now understand more thoroughly why the last men I’ve asked out on dates were Gay men.  Of course I didn’t know that they were Gay.  But, turned out all 6 of those guys were!  They naturally have a flair and an aura about them I find both comfortable and appealing.

Last weekend I had a conversation with a straight man who finds me, hate to say it, attractive.  I call him Mr.  Photographer.  I remember meeting him in the gym and he would call me something in Spanish because I’m Spanish, right.  And I never heard the word before Hermosa.  Later he told me it means, Beautiful.  The funny thing is to me he looks like a human Praying Mantis, seldom-looking, long and leggy with the whimsical method of how he strolls.  I bet he would never truly flat out ask me if I find him as beautiful as he finds me.  Hm.  Now he came to visit one of my gym locations and I told him of a story about a month ago with a guy I went out on a date with.  And what he does?  –> He automatically does the Straight Male Talk (which comes from the Heterosexual perspective):

Mr. Photographer:
That was your fault!
Penn:
My fault?  How you figure?
Him:
Because no one told you to be nice, give him the benefit of doubt and go out with him on a date.  You can’t tell me you didn’t know he was interested in you.
Me:
That’s complete bullshit!  And interested in me.  Of course he is.  But he didn’t have any right taking me to dinner, movies only to offer me $200 dollars and negotiate my sex on our first fucking hang out.
Him:
But you have to understand something.  Men only want sex.  That’s it.  Men do not deal with women they don’t want to sleep with.
Me:
Excuse me if I want to give men the benefit of the doubt.  Excuse me for trying to believe in humanity for one second.  That not all are looking to fuck me in the end.  That they could possibly contain themselves like I can.  It still doesn’t make it right what he did.

Obviously, he doesn’t understand where I’m coming from.  Neither does most straight men when I speak with them.  All they’re busy catering to are their illusions and fantasies of how I must be in bed because I talk so openly about sex in general terms.  To make things worse is that it’s a Hetereosexual way of thinking and living in the Western World.  I cannot stand it!  I can’t even stand Straight woman because of this.  Why are people so scared to open their minds and allow themselves to be free from the chains and bondage of the West?

Mr: Photographer:
I don’t get it.  You don’t like Straight Men.  But you like gay men.  They don’t want to have sex with you.
Me:
Exfuckingactly!  I don’t want any man finding me attractive.  This is not what I live for.  Who cares if they find me attractive?  I don’t.  I’d like to engage in some conversations about books, the art, human psychology, but sex.  No!  I love gay men because they don’t want to have sex with me.  How many times do I have to explain this to you?

He just looks at me as weird as I look at him.

Pennington

Reflections On Yoga



(Written Previously)

Tonight…

out of the blue, I decided to hop-scotch my ass to get down and groovy with 45 minutes worth of Yoga in mi casa.  I know Yoga isn’t the first, middle or even the last thing on my exercise regimen list to perform.  But sometimes one must scratch deeper than what’s on the surface when it comes to the Training Life or existence itself, surely.

Yes, Yoga is a new realm I don’t touch much.  But I’ve done it twice in my life with other DVD‘s I’ve purchased out on a whim.  So I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to Yoga or am even put off by it.  I know with Yoga the  main significance one should take away from is knowing breathing is a part of movement and movement apart of breathing.  (I think I love knowing this the most actually.)  Besides the breathing, there’s the whole world of balancing, holding poses for periods of time, allowing yourself to be/feel within the present moment and seeing how good or how bad you SUCK when it comes to this word: Flexibility.  (Among other things.)

Now I’m a big believer in the what’s underneath..meaning I like to think what brought me to meditate with Yoga tonight is my subconscious.  It’s telling me that stretching would do me and my entire body justice.  I’m not going against this one bit.  I’m going to second it.  With intuition comes great responsibility.  I’m going to allow my instincts (as usual) to take/triumph over the guidance of my ego.  Especially when I have the goosebumps of faith to let me know deep down inside this is what I should be doing for the moment.  And well, the extra benefits of practicing Yoga is learning how to relax my mind.  Lord knows I could sure USE this lesson every fucking day!

Also I had this conversation with this fabulous person who so happens to be a great Pilates and Yoga instructors at one of the gyms I work in during the weekends I’ll call Dee.  She basically explained that even though “Many folks who weight-lift believe their muscles are getting stronger, it’s not necessarily true.  To gain strenth in the muscle one must lengthen them.”  One must lengthen the muscle so excessive fascia doesn’t become an issue.  (Foam-rolling too!)  Also tight super contracted muscles are lurking waiting to pop out like can-in-a-worm-injuries.  I can attest to both those things she mentioned.  (Fortunately or unfortunately.  ER!)  So does Yoga seem EXTRA like the right thing to do?

Well as soon as I started the Yoga session Crunch: Candlelight Yoga (which I shut the lights off in my room and lit a candle by the fucking way ) a radiance of peace and smiles washed all over me.  It was as if my spirit was cleansing itself before I even had the chance to dive in and fully see what it was all about to begin with.  Quite pleasant if you ask me!  I’ve no idea if my spirit reacted in such delight to what I was about to do?  Or if I was thrilled at myself for shutting off the light, lighting up a candle and about to let my guard down immensely?  I breathed all too deeply and allowed the flow to change from the inside out.

At first I wondered about how hard this was going to be for me, if the poses were going to be bearable or dreadful in my tight muscles and fibers?  But I quickly listened to the guidance of the video instructor and closed my eyes and allowed the breaths to run deep into the movements of the pose.  Before I knew it, I was laying on my purple mat and there were instances when I really began to zone out and I completely forgot I was inside a room.  Pure blank isolation?  Or an awkward sense of higher intelligence?  (*Scratches head!*)  This is by far difficult for me to do in my own skin, let alone my mind.  I’m typically wound up tight like my muscles due to lifting stress or the everyday turmoils of my Life.  So I guess I can consider this: WIN!

There were instances where twisting or side-bending became hard to inhale and exhale correctly.  But I didn’t back down for one second.  I stood with it and made sure I’m in the Present moment.  I could easily tell which areas I seem to be the tightest:  Top side corner of chest (ARGH!), inner thighs (What else is new?), hamstrings (Hm.), obliques (Understandable) and certain parts of the hips/glutes ().  But I made it through by aiming my breath into the areas that needed to be loosened, as the video instructor explained to perform.  Of course some poses were more difficult than others, but the challenge to dig into the muscle and visualize them lengthening as oppose to contracting with resistance machines and bodyweight exercises was incredibly delightful.  Renewal, even.

I’d like to practice more with Yoga.  Not just for the flexibility and balance concept.  But because delving into the realm of meditation .. well I can profit greatly from this.  It’s the other side of evenness of peace for mind, body, soul and spirit for me.

And you?

Pennington

Say What! Ballet?


Sometimes in my life out of thin air I receive a surge to try something fresh. Usually this happens for a few reasons (whether I’m in need of revived stimulation/inspiration, trying to fill in a void, keeping my mind busy and setting it on altered focus), though it tends to happen at a subconscious level first.

Last year I dabbled in how far I could go from sane to insane changing my nutrition program and learned the annoyance and benefits of calorie counting.  During the same year I got lost in the intensity waves and tests of pushing your body to its limit aside from puking called: CrossFit.   The year before last year I was gung-ho and practiced my blocks/kicks and making some of my classmates jealous with how well I improved in a few weeks (even though they didn’t understand how hard I practiced at home) for Tae Kwon Do.  As for this year it seems I have quickly fallen and am getting used to many different things that may not necessarily have much to do with Bodybuilding/Bodysculpting.  But does have a lot to do with connection since the body works as one unit: Yoga, Pilates, Sprinting, Jogging, Tabata Training and HIIT (High Intensity Interval Training) to name a few.

This brings me to this year and both my conscious/subconscious have led my mind/body on things to help with my muscle imbalances, smaller detail muscles, trigger points, posture alignment, poise and flexibility.  I believe Yoga, Pilates (soon to be Ballet) will and have lengthen, tighten, cracked, clicked back to its original place, stretched and thoroughly strengthen the tiny muscles that go unnoticed to someone who loves to throw around big weights to target bigger muscles.

There’s an infamous Dance Studio downtown not far from one of the places I work where they have everything from Modern Dance, Hip-Hop, Tap to Ballet. My one only concern however is (possibly?) wearing those ballet shoes.  I’m very finicky about anything pink and girly/feminine.  I’m not a big fan of representing my fem essence.  Overtime I’ve learned to thrive on and express my womanly nature.  Therefore Ballet seems suitable for me in this day and age.

I’ll leave off on the note where I like to add different dimensions to my physical activities and I love to self-teach.  Evidently, no?   I love the grace, the poise, the technique, vocabulary and the perfection it takes to learn Ballet.  So now my plan of action is to practice the 5 basic positions at home, learn the Plie like the Lat Pulldown, lengthen my hamstrings with difficult stretches, build up my tibia/ankle/soleus with Thera Bands before I step foot into a class.

I totally despise classes!   But courage is beauty and fear in this case can take a backseat as I’ve done many times before.   I just don’t want to look horrible (which I will since I don’t have any experience) on the first day I step in.  So the least I could do is research/homework and don’t come off as both stupid and completely de-conditioned during the process.  Hopefully I decide to go through with a full course.

It’s times like these I truly wish I had a girlfriend who would love to go on this adventure with me.  Will keep everyone posted. :D

Pennington

Puzzling


How the people in my life are and have been pretty shitty despite my genuine and humble nature?   How they dare to care to cross me despite the avalanche of consequences coming forth by my vengeful stinger?   How they the human audacity to say and ask things of me I wouldn’t bother to ask or tell them.   For the life of me, I don’t understand throughout the twenty-nine years of my physical existence does it seem hard to gain any support and encouragement I need by the familiar, no matter how small the circle may be.

Why are strangers the only ones, (I now call friends from networking/blogging sites) who seem to be the shelter of comfort during my times of need?  How is this even likely?  And does this make sense?  Does it have something to do with being able to meet and talk with a stranger about any thought you may have because there’s the comfort (also no worry factor) of never seeing them again?  (So one thinks?)  In strangers I find abundance.  And this is the sole reason why I give more to perfect strangers than the shaky circle of people in my present.  And I presume why strangers give me so much in return. The sentiments travel on a two-way street.

I wonder.. could it be the Tough Love expression that everyone has ever seem to throw at my face full force with no remorse or mistaken perception of any kind?  Which reminds me of the brainwashing technique my biological mother placed upon my brother, “Your sister received the type of love I gave her because she’s strong and able.  She doesn’t need me.  But you need me.” So I guess this will suffice for her own deranged satisfactions. Yet, it still leaves me with the question:  How do selfish, unconscious folks come into my life and never encourage all I do?

Since I can stand on my own two feet… it seems… I’m dismissed.

-Pennington

Resurfacing Always


As the night rides on my muscle fever continues.  I poke, I press, I antagonize the inflammation and allow it to become my muse.  The wires in my brain start to cook high up on a thousand-and-one electrifying speed thoughts.  But as quickly as they peak is as quickly as they vanish without a hint of fizz.  I, then try and manage to get the wires to spark?  No!  Instead my reflections flicker in and out like the Coconut Vanilla candle I just lit.  I look down at the splinters of the wooden floor and I imagine this is how my broken fibers are:  Rugged and Coarse.

I think about the night before and how I can’t help but find the obnoxious within people (men) who always want me to prove to them if I can walk how I talk, if I can push myself pass the mind/body limit and into the measureless profundity of my spirits existence, if I can outshine their masculinity even though/when they view the nature of my essence/physically with inferior femininity.  “Is it my friend’s fault that he loudly pitches his voice of how he envies my passion of Training?  That he wishes he can devote his being into the elliptical until it beats fluidity without the burden-thumping of his 400lb stature?  Does he have the right to push me to go as hard or harder than him because his sole purpose is to see if he can somehow manage to break me right before his eyes or mine?”

I can almost hear him under his heavy asthmatic breath: I think it’s possible. I think it’s possible. I want to believe she can be broken if I bulldoze her mental space and her physical pace.

I laugh because there’s nothing to prove to anyone. I’m comfortable in my own skin. I don’t need to compare myself to anyone because I love who I am. I strive to master my own domain. And this is better than what most of the masses can say about themselves as a whole. I wish he knew in his gut that he cannot break me. Only I can do this to myself. I wouldn’t allow myself to fail in his eyes or another. The only failing I did involved: Muscular Failure. And every time I failed, I smoothly shook it off with a 5-second rule and hit it again to squeeze out every last bit of muscle empowerment/exertion reps I’m worth. Pure mind fuck!

You see,this my friends is another old story resurfacing once again. Man feels weak next to the strong woman who exudes naturalness in her every being. Man wants to increase his weight even if it’s by 5lbs so mentally he can quiet his ego down.  (Maybe to him it’ll suffice?) Man fears he would never get my approval so he starts to play catch up with me through training just to see if I’m going to point out “Wow! You didn’t disappoint me.”

But sadly these types of men do very well disappoint me.  They disappoint me with how weak they brought their own character to be.  How determine they are to seek my/others approval.. (knowing damn well they should never rely on anyone but themselves).  How they allow their ego to get in the middle of our training session. How I don’t have to work as hard as they because I’ve done my years. (I’ve built my discipline and passion by standing on my own. I’m very well on my way to whatever greatness I envision.) How they manage to lose sight of the good in me by placing their horrible void of how they feel about themselves deep down in the way. The way of my helping them get to Point A to Point B.

I snuff out the candle. I wave at the crack of dawn. I now ask myself two questions: Do I have the right to remain guarded whenever this type of situation arises? And do I have the right of way to choose between giving a helping hand or not helping those who require a heavy dosage of confidence because I know they’d like to silently try and beat me down subconsciously or….?…

This is all.

-Pennington

Question: Where Did You Get Your Strength From?



Quite a few things. Anger being the main ingredient. 

Anger is where my strength originates from.  I take pride in anger since this emotion has always given me purpose, creativity, courage, the need to destroy, yet rebuild more than any other emotion I’ve ever come across.  Other things I draw strength from are:  Guts, Determination, Being an Individual, Having Cojones, Having a slight Inferior Complex (probably a Napoleon Complex?), setting a different standard for myself.. not allowing myself to be like the average female stuck within society’s place, being better/smarter/stronger than (some) men, among other things.

From young I always felt like a strong gal. 

I think deep within I always had a fighting warrior spirit.  Where it came from?  I do not know.  But I believe it came from the wonders of my intelligence and supernatural confidence.  I remember during elementary school I would stick up for others when people would pick on the weaker kids.  I guess because I knew I was strong and morally bullying kids for no good reason IS fucking wrong!  Plus I knew what it felt like when I got picked on when I was in kindergarten all the way to third grade.  I’ll never forget in first grade how it happened and at the same time what I witness.  I went to the restroom with two of my stringy first grade friends.  We were about to go into the stall.  When an eerie aura thick as stress tension appeared instantly.  My ears perked up as if my Spidey senses went off and I knew something was about to go down.

Then in all their mightiness these two tall and stocky fifth graders were eying all three of us with a sinister hunger in their face.  And out they called to my two stringy friends first and placed them up against the wall nose touching, “Pull down your pants!”  I was in back of all of them and in watching.. in fear I froze.  I didn’t want anything to happen to my friends.  But I couldn’t bring myself to walk.  Running out the bathroom felt like a tremendous amount of courage I swore I didn’t have at the age of 6.  When they refused to pull their pants down.  These fifth graders took it upon themselves and down their pants went, including underwear and exposing my friends rears.  I was cringing at this point.  I felt powerless.  I was just hoping one of the teachers would pick up on the fact that we were taking long.  Then these fifth graders started spanking them hard.  And the yelps and screams filled the air.  And I can’t remember anything else.

I never wanted to feel that way again. 

It took some time for me to build up more guts and courage to fight strangers.  But once I became acquainted with a third-grader who paid it forward by fighting most of my battles I knew I had to make a decision as soon as she told me she wouldn’t always be around to fight ALL my struggles.  Well, I made a name for myself by beating up a boy in fourth-grade in the cafeteria.  Then by the time I got into junior high the rest was history.  Let’s just say the Dean knew me by first name basis.  And none of my teachers bothered me because I’d send a book flying in their direction.  Anger issues much?  Certainly! ;)

Anger was and still is the only thing that has never let me down. 

And with this, I channeled most of my energy through building up more physical and mental strength.  The more strength I received and felt comfortable with the more courage I had when it came to everything, especially sticking up to one of my child molesters.  He stopped fucking with me after I threw a VHS tape at his face and threatened him with a screwdriver I was holding in hand when I was 12.  Then I had to ward off grown cousins who liked to pick on my weak chubby brother.  It was worth getting black eyes to defend what was/is right for what I believed in.   My physical strength came in pure enjoyment when I was heavily into wrestling around the age of 14-16.  I played wrestling with the neighborhood guys and my bro.  I would go on to body-slamming these guys who were 2-3 times my size.  All this seem to pay off as I get off nowadays on Lifting.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And all this from a whole world of circumstance and anger.

Pennington