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Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
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Monday
May252009

A Rush Of Blood To The Head

I haven't told Serge yet, but I fully mean to buy a motorcycle. And ride it, I should add. I need to get my blood flowing again. My friend base jumps in her spare time and every time I see her jump off a cliff I get mad. Weird reaction, no? After conducting a little self-psychology I've determined it's because I'm jealous. I want to be the person leaping off a cliff. Except I feel like any sort of leaping off any kind of tall object is kind of stupid. Stupid or brave, I guess.

One could argue, and Serge probably will, that riding a motorcycle is way more dangerous. You work in the news, he'll say. Look at all the motorcycle fatals you cover. Yes, but look at all the fatal car accidents we report too. And all the drownings. Should we stop driving and swimming? Also, Serge is a scaredy-pants about things like motorcycles and, oh say, ski lifts (put the bar DOWN, Monica. PUT THE GODDAMN BAR DOWN!) and tram rides at amusement parks. I should remind him about a certain home video he'd hate to be made public. I'll do it buddy. I'll publish that video of you riding with me on the sky tram at the amusement park and it will be for the amusement of the web at large!

I grew up with a Mom who rode all the time. She never got hurt. I'll wear a helmet. I won't speed. Most of the time. So really, how much more dangerous is riding a motorcycle than tooling around on a scooter? I want to do something that takes my breath away and chasing Milo down the street when he goes dog crazy on freedom doesn't count!