Heyyooooooooo. It's Thursday. I suck at my deadline, and you learned that early on.
Speaking of "early on", I wanted to say thank you all for reading this spewing of my words. When I started this blog, it was really more of a way for me to cope with all of the memories and anger that I still have pent up about 2009. I try to keep a brave face, but those memories haunt me vividly still, and this blog has helped me sort out some of those things and kind of find out how I feel about life now. But the fact that people actually read it, and seem to enjoy it is something I really appreciate. I've reached a milestone in the amount of hits this blog has reached, but I'm not going to say what it is because it might not actually seem like a lot to everyone else...and I care so much about what everyone thinks. For real though. But this blog has garnered a lot more attention than I ever would have thought, and I'm grateful that people care about what I have to say. Or at least care enough to read what I have to say.
So let's talk about stuff, I guess. Let's talk about Lance Armstrong. And while we are talking about Lance Armstrong, let's talk about Lance Bass. We should talk about both of them. Two Lances, three testicles. Yeah, I said it.
But back to what I was saying. About Lance Armstrong and more importantly, Lance Bass. Lance^2 (I tried to figure out how to make a little squared symbol, but then I remembered that ^2 means squared on a graphing calculator). I LOVE BOTH OF THESE LANCES.
And I will tell you why:
Lance Bass, the animated Peter Pan, and Peter from the Brady Bunch were my first crushes (well, after the kid who sat behind me in 1st grade who made me a personalized hand-traced turkey at Thanksgiving). Lance Bass was the mysterious one in NSYNC. They never really let him sing a lot, but man was he pretty. It's kind of like the NSYNC peeps were like "LANCE! You will never sing lead on any songs, but maybe after Justin decides to have a solo career, you can be an astronaut and go to space!" (he NEVER WENT TO SPACE WHAT WAS UP WITH THAT?) I love Lance Bass because he had yellow frosted tip hair. It wasn't blonde. It was yellow. And yellow, my friend, is my favorite color. If I could grow up and have Lance Bass, Peter Pan, and Peter Brady be my sister-husbands I would. But alas, Peter Pan is a cartoon (AND NEVER RESPONDED TO MY FAN LETTERS), Peter Brady married the girl who won the first America's Next Top Model that no one remembers, and Lance, dearest, darlingest Lance...is gay.
Such is the way of life.
Lance Armstrong, who recently confessed to Oprah that he used performance enhancing drugs to help him win the Tour du France, provided my people (the people of the cancer tribe), with a reputable, helpful, and comforting resource to use as we try to navigate our way through post-cancer life. "Livestrong" is more than just the tacky little bracelet you wear on your wrist to show other people that you hate cancer. It is an organization that helps people like me, who are stuck in this f**king crazy mess of cancer madness, find solace in the fact that there are other people like us somewhere on this planet that know how to saline and Heparin lock an IV, and are scared every day of their life that one little mutated cell is going ruin everything.
Yes. It sounds dramatic. But it is. No one. NO one. NO ONE. Could ever understand the inner-workings of a cancer survivor or cancer patient's mind. There is no such thing as peace of mind. There's only this satisfactory state of mind, where maybe you don't think about your relapse possibilities for a day or two. Or maybe you don't think about the fact that your hair isn't growing back. Or that your sense of smell is as keen as it was the last time they loaded you with that bag of Ifosfamide, so everyone around you smells like shit.
The majority of you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. But if you're a cancer victim, you sure as hell do. And hopefully, you hate this attempt to completely destroy Lance Armstrong's character just as much as I do. He made a mistake. He's a-f**king-llowed. Maybe this mistake was a pretty god damn big one, but to discredit him for everything he's done for cancer patients and survivors on this planet is just plain ignorant.
It's been hard for me to bite my tongue when I hear people make flippant remarks or online comments about how Lance is a despicable person, or that he has ruined everything he stood for--or (my personal favorite), when people say that he has tainted the name of Livestrong. Because I promise you, he has not.
I know it sounds cliche, and lax, and small-minded compared to the situation at hand, but everyone makes mistakes, and NO ONE is perfect. No one is. Not even me. I pick my nose far too much.
There's this stigma in today's world that cancer survivors are these inspirational people who have fresh, positive perspectives on life. Let me tell you, the pressure to feel that way is hard to deal with. Especially when I consider the fact that if cancer has taught me anything about life, it's that life is a piece of shit, and will continually supply with copious amounts of shit. The fact that people expect me to radiate inspiration and wisdom is taxing. Maybe it was that sort of pressure that influenced Lance's poor choices. I dunno. I'm not gonna make excuses for him. But while you can take away his medals or pom poms or whatever the hell you get for winning a glorified bike riding contest, you cannot take away his survivorship, and fact that he's a fighter.
Lastly, I will say this: condemn the action, not the person. For me, Lance Armstrong will always be a hero. Always. And so will Lance Bass. And so will Peter Pan. And so will Peter Brady.
Keep reading my shit, and stop talking shit on Lance.
Jesse
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