Damn you, Mr. Rogers.

Just ran my first ever 10K this morning. I felt like I experienced every emotion known to man today. Forget about bipolar, I felt at least 7polar. Septapolar? But I digress. It is really strange what physical labor will do to your mind. I went back and forth between "I think I might F-ing finish this thing!" almost immediately to "I'm never going to F-ing finish this thing." Then I'm trying to decide which brain centers and which neurotransmitters are responsible for each of these thoughts. If only I could make an antagonist for the bad thought molecule. You can take the girl out of the neurolab...

So, onto the damning of Mr. Rogers, which I'm sure is the only reason anyone would read this. Yep, I've resorted to hook titles because nobody's going to read a blog entitled "my psychotic emotions." Apparently, FOX news has recently aired a piece (I choose "piece" because you can decide yourselves what it is a piece of later) about Mr. Rogers and why he is responsible for everything wrong with our generation. He told us all that we were special, which gave us enough of a sense of entitlement to argue for A's when we haven't done work, or expect jobs to fall into our hands. Really? I could see calling him creepy for wanting to play with puppets and little children all day, but blaming him for anything beyond your run-of-the-mill creepy factor just seems unfair. How about we blame the parents that ignore their responsibilities in the lives of their children? Sheesh. Maybe Mr. Rogers is to blame for my "I'll never finish" thoughts. He is the bad neurotransmitter!

Another thing: how the hell is it possible that I'm putting every ounce of energy into catch up with a 75-year old woman and an obese man/woman (I couldn't tell, sorry)? Nothing will change happy thoughts to murderous thoughts faster than being practically out-lapped by the sick, the elderly, and the obese. (Kind of sounds like a bitter version of what is written under the statue of liberty...) Seriously, self-esteem is not heightened by thoughts like "my only chance for keeping up is a stroke or heart attack." Bad person, Melinda Anne, bad.

But, after all was said and done, I pulled it off. I even "by-passed" Mr/Mrs heart-attack waiting to happen. Yep, cheap pun and I don't care. You love it!

And now off to shower before my husband leaves me.