Exhaustion, a UTI and God

A few nights ago I noticed that my cat, George, had been licking himself more than any respectable boy kitty should, so I mentioned it to Logic and then went about my business. When I woke up this morning George was doing double-duty. He would go to the litter box, come out and clean his nether regions only to go back into the litter box again. Seeming like a disaster waiting to happen, I called the vet to make an appointment for later that day. When our 2:40 appointment was confirmed I was off to dance and yoga.
Class started off as usual; Dom taught us the first set of 8 counts and then we warmed up before learning the rest of the dance. By the time we started stretching, I felt a little tired. Could it have been the beer I'd had the night before? Was I dehydrated? It's possible. Or it could have been that the routine was grueling and I wasn't listening to my body when it said SLOW DOWN!!!
We finished the dance and were running through it a few times before being broken up into groups for the performance. Everyone was going full-force, trying to tweak some moves here and there to make it their own and I was right along with them. Until I couldn't breathe. My lungs and chest were tight so I decided to take a break and get something to drink. As I walked in circles on the edge of the dance floor, chugging my Gatorade, I thought about how hard the routine was but also how much I liked it. I wanted to get back out there and give it my best. And that's what I did.
By the time class was over I was contemplating skipping yoga. It is my all-time-favorite thing to do but I was pretty beat up from dancing and wasn't sure I'd have the energy. Then I remembered that I had a new yoga mat. Really wanting to test it out, I decided to stay.
My regular instructor wasn't in so there was a sub. As nice as it is to have variety, it's just not the same when Jessie's not there. And this particular instructor had something to prove; class was intense. So intense that I had to revert to child's pose and lie on the floor quite a few times throughout the hour-long session. When it was over I finished off my Gatorade and quickly crossed the street for my 'energizing' smoothie. But even that didn't help. By the time I got home I was weak and shaky. And to make matters worse, the vet had called while I was gone, wanting us to bring George in as soon as possible because she was worried about his symptoms. So Logic did the grunt work of stalking the cat and managing to close the cage without George's crafty escape.
I didn't find out about this until I was driving home when I got a call from Logic saying that the vet wanted to keep George for the afternoon and do some tests to make sure he didn't have a blockage or anything. (He'd already left me a message but I hadn't seen it yet.)
Something about leaving the house that morning, knowing I'd be taking George that afternoon and finding out that he'd already been rushed up there without me threw me off. So between my workout exhaustion and cat-related drama I was not feeling so well.
I tried to eat, I tried to lie down, I drank and drank and drank water. Nothing was helping. My body was starting to act the way it does under anxious circumstances and as much as I tried to distinguish the difference between discomfort and fear*, it wasn't helping. Next, I tried to take a shower thinking the isolation and relaxation would help me to clear my head but I was so tired that I kept shaking, which only induced more anxiety. I finally got out of the shower and had enough time to grab another Gatorade before collapsing on the bed. My mind was swirling and my body was reacting with a knotted stomach and a tingling/burning sensation in my arms that felt as if my veins had just been injected with vinegar.
I'm a stubborn one and I was determined to talk myself down from this panic attack without resorting to my helper pills*. I opened the mental vault to my therapy session notes and skimmed through the pages:

~Focus on breathing - do ujjayi breathing techniques and listen to my breath.
~Imagine that my thoughts are floating over rocks on a river bed - not stopping or getting stuck anywhere - just floating on by. (this one is usually awesome, but today I had no such luck. Anxiety was on to me. It knew my favorite tricks and came at me with new material.)
~See my body's physical reaction to anxiety as its way of getting the toxins out of my body and leaving me with only the good.
~Try to pinpoint what is upsetting me and remind myself what has helped in the past.

After 90 minutes of trying these techniques and about 10 minutes of sleep I decided to be compassionate with myself* and take a helper pill*. It was a struggle to even get up, find my medicine, cut the pill in half, drink it down and go back to bed. I felt so weak that passing out seemed like a real option. But I managed. And as I laid back down on the bed I started to think about the one 'solution' that I specifically skipped over: prayer.
Prayer and I go way back. Back to the beginning, when I was taught that it would help me in any circumstance:

~Having a bad dream? Pray about it.
~Want to make the dance squad? Pray about it.
~Driving a long distance and want to get there safely? You guessed it...Pray about it.

But when I deliberately decided to chuck the ole Catholic Church to the curb a few years back I have been questioning everything I've been taught and filtering out the things that don't make sense. Prayer is one of those things. I didn't believe that God only answers the 'prayers' of the people who believe in him. I didn't agree with the idea of an answered prayer being God's Grace but an unanswered prayer being the Mysterious Ways in which he works. Who is this God and why does he answer some prayers and not others? And why does he insist on being so mysterious?
These questions, among many others are the reason I questioned my faith to begin with. Some of it just didn't add up. And I wasn't willing to just blindly believe in what I was told. So I started questioning everything I'd been taught. My recycle bin filled up quickly and by the end of it, I only had a few things left in my Faith File. One was that I truly did want to believe in something. That there is Something out there (whether we go to him in the afterlife or not). I had a decision to make: either revert back to the faith I was raised with and feel like a fake or traverse the rugged terrain in front of me, hoping that all the hard work would pay off and I would eventually find something that made sense.
Again, being stubborn, I chose the difficult path. And that's where I've been ever since. It's a real bitch this path I've chosen; with narrowly carved roads up winding canyons in the dead of a desert summer. I can go days and days without seeing another person and when I do it is often from a distance - since they have their own path to take. This path is extremely isolating. All the things that I knew are no longer comforting and I find myself delirious with exhaustion in an attempt to find answers that are true to me.
Which brings us back to today. When I am having anxiety, I question my strength because all of my solutions revert me back to the path that I chose to leave. I get upset about something or feel out of control when I've pushed myself too far and I suddenly find myself stuck on a ledge without the proper spelunking equipment. Feeling scared, do I choose to pray or grapple with my fears in the silence of my own, anxiety-ridden head?
Actually, in these situations I typically go for the hand. Instead of praying or trying to think out my problems I pick up my journal and just start writing. Sometimes it takes me a while to have the courage and the strength to find my journal and pour my heart out on the always comforting page. Today was no exception: it took me more than two hours to get to the point where I could write without worrying that I'd lose my balance and only have one available hand to pull me back up onto the ledge. But after those two hours I grabbed my journal and wrote.
I must have written at least five pages, transferring the anxiety from my head to my hand and then to the paper. Once I started to write I felt a sense of relief. Finally I was able to get all of those worries and fears out of my head. It provided me with so much relief but it also surprised me with a little insight as well.
On page four, after spilling out all of my concerns I suddenly asked myself: "Why does the thought of not praying to God make me feel so alone? Do I believe in the concept of prayer? And if so, how do I justify the audacity that it would take to do so and to believe that God is going to help me while so many other prayers go un-answered?"
I went on to write: "Emile Durkheim believed that religion was vital for society to succeed and that it would crumble without its rituals and beliefs. He thought that people needed religion to be socially conscious and without it, no one would care about another and greed and chaos would rule supreme."
Then I countered that with what my hand transcribed from my subconscious. My mind was completely blank as I wrote this next section:

"I'd like to think that people are mostly good, so in thinking about prayer and it's relationship to religion, I'd like to think prayer doesn't need to be tied into religion. It doesn't need to be a part of society to keep it from falling apart. It doesn't even need to be the kind of prayer that I've been taught it to be. If prayer could be whatever I want it to be; whatever I feel it in my heart to be, than I'd like it to be my thoughts for others. Just thoughts; no request for resolution. In my ideal prayer scenario, I would wish something good for someone else and instead of expecting an answer, I would focus all of my energy on that person and hope that they are given some sense of comfort and peace as a result."

I let my anxiety reach epic proportions not because I fear the worst, but because I am searching for a source of comfort and when I look into my heart I find a gaping hole where religion used to be. So the next time I find myself in an anxious situation I would like to try to pray again. But not to the Catholic God or anyone else's God for that matter. I want to pray to the one who will hug me and hold me tight. Yes, I will ask for his help but not in the sense that I expect him to solve my problems for me. I will pray that God can provide me with love, comfort and peace of mind too. I don't need him to solve my problems for me. I just need him to hug and comfort me while I figure them out for myself.

~Quotations used to signify things that my therapist and I have talked about.

P.S. George is home now. As soon as I finished writing in my journal I decided to call the vet and check on him. They prescribed him some medicine and confirmed that he had a urinary tract infection. Poor guy.

Cake

Logic and I went to see Cake at the Paramount last night.
When I found out they were coming to town I was excited but as time progressed I started to question whether I really wanted to go. I love them and have for a long time but the Sunday night thing was almost a deal-breaker. (god, I'm old)
Anyway, Logic hurt his knee over the weekend (going to the doctor today) and it was a struggle getting him to the show but once we were there we were glad we went.
At first I wasn't sure if I could get into it; they sounded so good that it felt like I was just listening to a cd. But then John started playing with the audience and the band played around with the arrangements. The disco ball helped too.
It turned out to be a great show.
When the band left the stage you would have thought there was an earthquake. People were screaming, clapping and stomping so loud that the building felt like it was actually shaking. They made us work for the encore... taking their time coming back to the stage, but it was worth it. They played three more songs and gave the crowd a voice lesson.
Today I am listening to the three albums I have at work and smiling at the memories that were made last night.

Being a Mom

Logic and I occasionally talk about having kids. Sometimes it will come up after we spend time with our family and other times it is when we see a real brat in a restaurant. The first scenario leads us to think that we might want them, the second has the opposite effect. But whenever we have 'the talk' we both agree that we'd be screwed if children really are like their parents. Logic was a difficult child and I was a handful as a teen. Put those together and we'd have one helluva nightmare on our hands.
But with Mother's Day tomorrow, and the recent death of my Grandma, I can't help but admire the women in my life and think there might just be enough of a reward to outweigh the difficulties that come with being a mom.
Take my relationship with my mom, for example. As I previously stated, I was a handful as a teenager. I was mad for having to move to Montana during my Sophomore year of high school, among other things, and I chose to focus all of that anger on my mom. After taking a particularly brutal assault, she suggested that maybe I was taking all of my agression out on her because I knew that no matter what I said, she would still love me. I wouldn't admit it at the time, but she was right. And the next few years of our cohabitation would prove just how strong her love was. I would yell and scream and insult her every chance I got and her love for me never waivered.
Shortly after my 18th birthday I moved out. Amid tears and hurt feelings, my parents were supportive of my decision. And to my surprise, I spent more time at home than I did when I lived there. It was the beginning of a new phase in my relationship with my mom.
Of course, after moving out from the comforts of home, I started to see all the little things that my mom had done without acknowledgement for all those years.
I started to see her in a new light. She was not just my mother anymore, but this amazing woman who made unlimited sacrifices and had an all-encompassing heart.
Living on my own was quite an awakening in many respects but there was one particular factor that changed our relationship completely. That factor was anxiety.
When I started having panic attacks, there was nothing my mom could do to help. For the first time in my life, I had to take care of something on my own. As hard as it was for me, I think it was even harder for my mom. Her faith gave her all the comfort and support she needed and she couldn't relate to my ambivalence for it. She wanted to pray with me and try to resolve my fears through religion. And while I wish it could have been as easy as kneeling down and doing some serious praying, her answers were not mine.
I had to find alternate ways to solve my problems. Prayer was eventually replaced with meditation and instead of church, I found my weekly comfort in yoga. Even though my mom could see that I was finding comfort in these new forms of spirituality, she had a hard time understanding how those answers could be any better than her own. It was scary and exhausting for both of us, but in my search for new resolutions we've learned a lot about each other.
I can't pinpoint when it was that I finally started to appreciate all that my mom has done for me, but I know that I haven't even come close to understanding her love in all its capacity. As I look back on the last few years, all the anxiety and fear has been worth it if for no other reason than to bring us closer.
Ten years after all the fighting and even some hair pulling, I am so proud of the progress we've made. And should I ever decide to be a mom, I know that I'll do just fine. Mine set a pretty great example.

Happy Mother's Day. Or Not. Whatever.

I couldn't get out of bed yesterday. I'd been up until 11:30 the night before doing some spontaneous spring-cleaning in anticipation of Logic's return from Utah. When my alarm went off at 6:00, I could barely manage rolling over to turn it off. After the fourth 'snooze' attempt, I decided to call in sick. My plan was to take the afternoon off anyway so I could pick Logic up from the airport so it was easy to justify having the morning off as well.
I finally crawled out of bed around 9 and was making some final alterations to the newly-arranged living room furniture when I got a call from Tom.
We'd been playing phone-tag since October. Neither one of us was really making the effort to meet up, but after a good talk with a friend on Sunday morning I decided an effort should be made. I called him on Sunday afternoon as he was heading into the movie theater. He agreed to call later that day, but I wasn't really expecting him to. To my surprise he did.
He drove over in the afternoon and we sat on my couch. We talked for two hours - a new record for us. It was weird because it wasn't weird. We talked about nothing and everything and it was really nice. So when he called me on Monday morning, I thought it would be a quick "knock knock" joke, since we'd already covered everything else. But it wasn't.
He called to tell me that Grandma passed away. He'd just gotten off the phone with mom and he wanted to warn me that she was pretty broken up. He said it was really hard to hear her like that and he just wanted me to be prepared. I was shocked twice-over. Once for hearing that Grandma was dead and twice for receiving such a sweet call from my usually-absent brother.
After talking to Tom, I immediately called my mom. She, of course, was trickling the news down the list of her children and was on the phone with Jill. She called me back a few minutes later with a lump in her throat.
"I'm fine", she kept assuring me. "It's just hard to talk about."
After a few attempts at telling me what happened, she had to put my dad on the phone.
He said that they didn't really know much. It was assumed that she died of natural causes. She had recently been moved back to the nursing home from the hospital after a quart and a half of liquid was drained from her lungs. There was no sign of pneumonia but her kidneys were acting up. Among other things, she wasn't eating or drinking and her blood pressure was higher than normal. And yet, she seemed to be improving. We were all bracing ourselves for more trouble but didn't expect her to die so soon.
The real kicker was how my mom found out. When my Aunt Jo called to tell her, my mom was at the post office... sending out my Grandma's card for Mother's Day. It breaks my heart to imagine her walking up to the mailbox, stopping to answer her phone, and then needing to decide what to do with the card.
This Sunday is going to be a really hard day for her. I really want to be there but I also want to go to Michigan in a few weeks when my mom buries both her parents' ashes. I just checked tickets to New Mexico and they are outrageous.
I just don't know what to do.

Cassie and Moses

Happy May Day!

Not to be confused with 'MAYDAY!' Here's a little trivia for you:

How did the word "Mayday" come to be a cry for help? Does it have anything to do with the "May Day" holiday?

Aside from the obvious fact that the Mayday '(used as a distress call)' and May Day 'the first of May, variously celebrated with festivities and observances', are both spelled and pronounced the same way, no, they are not related.

The Mayday that is an international radiotelephone distress call used by ships and airplanes is simply a phonetic representation of the French word m'aider, an imperative meaning 'help me!'. It could also be a shortening of the French phrase venez m'aider 'come help me!', which is somewhat less likely on the grounds that if you were in serious trouble you'd probably want use a shorter expression.

Mayday was adopted as a distress call by the International Radio Telegraph Convention in 1927.

~ Brendan Pimper

~updated source information: Jesse Sheidlower

Tulip Template

Shush is a Bad Word in My House

Not because of the vowels and consonants, but because of the intention behind the word. Often times it occurs when I'm watching something on t.v. or listening to the radio. I will be engrossed in it and he'll try and talk to me - so I shush him. He's asked me time and time again not do to it and has explained that it's the way in which I do it that really upsets him.
He's right. I do it quickly and condescendingly. I let him know that it is a monumental inconvenience for me to have to tell him to be quiet so that I can continue doing something more important. You know, like watching t.v.

I 'shushed' him twice yesterday. It wasn't until after the second time that he made me aware of it. I've become so accustomed to being a bitch that I've lost sight of when I'm actually doing it anymore. He asked me not to apologize because he knows I'll do it again. And he's right. It's not like I want to 'shush' him. Of course he is more important than whatever else it is that I'm doing. But I've grown so impatient that I do it without even realizing it. When did this start happening? When did I decide that it was okay to make him feel insignificant?
After our talk and a long night of feeling like shit, I found myself doing it again this morning. I completely cut him off mid-sentence and rushed him out of the car just so I could make it through the traffic light that just turned green. I laughed afterward (maybe trying to relieve some of the guilt that was ballooning up inside of me) but funny or most definitely not, as soon as the words escaped my mouth I realized I had done it again. Just with different vowels and consonants. Catching that light was not more important than letting Logic finish his sentence. I really need to make a conscious effort to stop being such a bitch. He is so patient and loving and I reward him by cutting him off and making him feel unimportant? If the tables had been reversed I would have been crushed.
It's about time that I let him know he is valuable to me.
Logic, I am so sorry.

Douche Recipient #2

My co-worker has decided to schedule a vasectomy at the same time that his wife is about to go into labor. (I know this because he scheduled the appointment FROM HIS DESK!)
First of all, who does that at their desk? I mean, really?
But second, and more importantly, who schedules a surgery right as their spouse is about to deliver their 3rd child???
What a douche.

When Cats Attack

Last night I got into bed and started my routine of rolling around for about 5 minutes before I find "the perfect spot" (which changes daily). I was in the process of rolling onto my stomach when, out of nowhere, George jumped up on my back and bit the back of my head. Luckily, he got mostly hair but still... it was really strange. I yelled (mostly out of shock) and pushed him off the bed. He kept trying to cuddle with me afterward, but I wouldn't let him. In fact, I was a little scared to go to sleep.
This isn't the first time he's done something like this either. When Logic and I wrestle, George used to get protective of me and try to attack Logic's foot. This made sense because Logic plays with George in that way. But recently he started attacking me instead. We'll be on the floor; Logic will have me trapped underneath him and George will try to bite my feet.
I was actually okay with that because it made sense - we were playing and he wanted to play.. but last night was a little too weird.
Any idea what the hell that was about?

For My Daddy

Sometimes I wonder how I ever found a man that compares to my daddy.

Aaron

Eleven years ago today, a junior in high school got out of school and drove out to a campsite to hang out with his friends. He drank a lot, as did his friends. When it was time to drive back into town, he jumped in the passenger seat of the truck.
Soon into the drive the truck flew over a cliff. The driver was able to escape before the wheels left the pavement but the boy wasn't as lucky. When the truck landed tail-up in the riverbed, he was stuck. His friend ran back to the campground and called for help. As luck would have it, the ambulance got a flat tire en-route and arrived at the scene too late. All by himself, in the middle of nowhere, he waited for help. Help that didn't come in time.

The Bus Tunnel

I took the bus tunnel from work to the heart of downtown yesterday so I could quickly do some shopping before meeting up with Logic and Daniel. My office is where the tunnel starts so the bus was empty when I got on. At the next stop a man got on, dragging a bag full of his life's belongings. He looked like he hadn't showered in a very long time and may not have even known where he was at. He chose a seat in the middle of the bus that is elevated and facing inward. I had a clear view of him.
I tried to close my eyes because I didn't want to be rude but I kept finding myself peering through a squinted eye - just to see what he was doing. At one point, my eyes had been closed for a while and as I slowly opened them - almost forgetting he was there - I saw him licking his finger and then wiping the arm rest and then licking his finger again. It's as if he were testing it to see what it tasted like.
It was at that moment that I made a conscious decision to NEVER, under any circumstances, touch anything on a bus ever again.

My Brother, A Douche Award Recipient

I just got a call from Tom. "Fuck, I missed Dad's birthday, didn't I?"
By the time we hung up, I was furious. First of all, Mom buys this slacker a calendar every year and writes down everyone's birthdays. Apparently that isn't enough for this 37 year old douche. Second, if he forgot Dad's birthday, why the fuck is he calling me? Third, his excuse was that he was in the ER because he couldn't move his arm. (With Tom it's always something.) I'm pretty sure he could call Dad in the waiting room using his "good" arm. Or maybe call in the 2 days afterward.
I shouldn't be surprised. This is typical of Tom. I think he does this on purpose so that no one expects anything from him. And maybe on some sadistic level, he enjoys making our family feel like he's too busy to care.
When he does this, I usually play it off as no big deal. I don't want him to get a rise out of me - like I suspect he's wanting. But it's frustrating; especially when I feel like he's hurting someone's feelings.
Sometimes I get really upset with him because of the way he treats our parents. He's always had an issue with Mom, and I can only assume it has to do with the fact that she is outspoken about religion and he finds weakness in that. He repeatedly calls dad altruistic and seems to have a great deal of respect for him, but not enough to make a damn phone call on his birthday, apparently.
I've talked with Mom and Dad about this in the past. It pains me to see someone be so blatantly ungrateful to their loving family. They insist that they no longer expect anything from him and that they know that it's "just Tom". But I think that's bullshit. I mean, I'm glad they don't take it personally but that has to be really hard for parents to feel so under-appreciated by one of their own. I hurt for them. But that's where it gets tricky. You see, this is a pattern of mine. I like to worry about things I have no control over and that, honestly, don't affect me directly. There is nothing I can do to change the way that Tom acts and there's nothing I can do to protect our parents from it. But I have great sorrow in my heart for the effects of his actions and I want to protect my loved ones from the pain he causes.
I need to learn how to separate myself from things I cannot control. It is not my fault and there is nothing I can to do fix it. I just need to let go. Otherwise, I wind myself up so tight and I let it seep into the part of my brain that turns worry into anxiety.
This is where I've gotten into trouble before. I don't want to go back to THAT PLACE. So I breathe a sigh of relief and try to see the good. At least I know that Tom is still alive (which is sometimes a concern with him) and that he is at least making a last-ditch effort to recognize Dad's birthday. Plus, Dad (and Mom) has five other children who continue to reassure him everyday that he is loved and remembered and that is five more than some people have.

These Inspire Me - Flickr Friends

Giving Credit: Flickr Friends

1. another day in paradise, 2. Silly Wabbit.....Trix are for Kids, 3. Aerial view, 4. After the Fall, 5. A day off from the zoo, 6. A Storm Approaches the Pier, 7. Isaiah, 8. Needled, 9. Whispers, 10. Sunset on 2007, 11. 40 weeks, 12. Baxter Says Hi, 13. Opera House, 14. Bye Bye today... See ya again tomorrow!, 15. Blue Moment of Innocence, 16. Collage of Color!, 17. Waterlogged, 18. Happy New Year, 19. Heavenly, 20. Panther, 21. Day Ninety-Seven: Shhhhh, Mama, Don't Talk, 22. No Limits, 23. Purty Purple 'n Green, 24. Heels, 25. leftover drops, 26. Day Three Hundred Sixty-Five: Swan Song, 27. Day One Hundred Forty-Seven: Friday Night Zen, 28. Self Portrait, 29. How Babies are Born..., 30. Autumn Flame, 31. Dewy web with honeysuckle bokeh, 32. wide angle, 33. Buddy's Feather Boa (on Vimeo), 34. Day Two Hundred Sixty-One: Momma's Little Helper, 35. Nottingham Castle, 36. Cue, The Closeup

Created with fd's Flickr Toys.

Astrology - Rubbing It In

Last night in my Sociology of Religion class, we discussed different religions and why they were categorized as religions.
The topic of astrology came up. I remembered hearing that some form of Judaism incorporated astrology but when I mentioned that to my professor, she brushed it off.
So I had to do some research when I got into work today. Alas, this is what I found:

"The Kabbalah Centre has a strong belief in astrology, and asserts that astrology, including the Zodiac, has been part of Judaism since its inception. The Centre claims astrology was lost in Jewish tradition as part of the suppression of Kabbalah by Jewish rabbis nearly 2000 years ago (evidence of this includes ancient synagogues with zodiac rings). This claim is historically inaccurate, as astrology was studied by Jewish scholars throughout the Middle Ages, though it was opposed by more philosophically inclined thinkers such as Maimonides. As such, there is a strong belief in the Kabbalah tradition that cosmic forces affect everything, and knowing how to understand them can prove to be valuable to the aspiring Kabbalist. Philip Berg, the founder of the Kabbalah Center, is himself an astrologer and has written numerous books on astrology during his career."

Hmm. Looks like I was right.

"Jon Is Not Short" Another Daily Show Clip

The Douche Awards

I was inspired this morning.
As I walked out of my building, I saw a large truck taking up two parking spaces on an already packed street. Just to paint an accurate picture, he was parallel parked, so it had nothing to do with the size (or lack thereof) of his truck. He was just being a douche.
This is a common occurrence on my street and it angers me in a way that it probably shouldn't because it rarely affects me. But I have a hard time understanding how some people can be so blatantly inconsiderate.
This lead me to wonder how I could let people like the truck driver know when they're being total douche's without being confrontational.
There is an artist (whose name eludes me) who used to hand out these amazing business cards that said something like: "Hello, I am black. You may not have known that, which could be why you chose to talk in a way that you didn't realize I would find offensive" when she found herself in a conversation that was racist. She was a black woman with fair skin and was often mistaken for white. You can imagine how uncomfortable she must have been to find herself in conversations where African Americans were talked about negatively. So she decided to hand out those business cards whenever she found herself in a situation where she was mistake for someone who would have been interested in racist dialogue.
I'm not wanting to go quite that far with it. After all, I did say 'without being confrontational' (aka: I'm scared). But maybe I could make up some business cards like this:

Congratulations! You've been
awarded a DOUCHE AWARD.
Due to your recent behavior, the
Douche Committee deemed you worthy of
an award. To see what you've won,
please go to
www.doucheawards.com

(and then I'll set up some bogus website where I can give examples of people being douches.)

What do you think?

Slowly But Surely, I Am Becoming the Person I've Always Wanted to Be

One quarter down and 5 more to go; I am anxious to get back to school. Spring Break has been nice but it is a reminder of how little I was doing before I went back. The two classes I took last quarter have proven to be instrumental in getting me on the path I need to take. My English class refreshed my knowledge of writing a paper and analyzing literature. My Art class showed me a new side of myself; I am a feminist. It also led me to take the next step in my education. I am signed up for Sociology of Religion. I don't think I would have been able to take that class without having taken my Art class because it opened my eyes to how I truly feel about organized religion and took the fear out of it. I can hardly wait to learn more about religion in general and to finally see it from an outside perspective.
My anxiety finally feels under control. I have been seeing a new therapist since November and Susan has changed my life. To summarize an analogy from Aaryn: she is the Manolo Blahnik of therapists. Together we have translated the jumbled mess that was residing in my head and it feels amazing! There are times when I get a glimmer of how I used to feel and I quickly alter my thought process. Those moments are a reminder to be grateful for all the hard work I've put into my progress.
I am organizing my life around exercise and loving it. Yoga has been the primary focus for months now and I truly feel its intention. It is hugely responsible for my lack of anxiety (along with what Susan has taught me). Recently I started taking Hip Hop classes again and it is filling my soul up in a way I'd forgotten dance can do. In every class I have at least one moment where the moves are not longer thought about; they just come. And it is such a rush.
I am closer to Logic because of all these factors. We talk about what I'm learning in class and yoga and I think I can even take some credit for getting him back into reading. This makes me happy on so many levels - one of which being that it gives us even more to talk about. We are diving deeper into conversations we've already had and learning more about each other every day.
I am so grateful to finally look at myself and see the person that was hiding inside for so long. She is blossoming and her evolution is so far from over.

Or Maybe Not

I think the well might be dry.

Raise Your Hands

if you think this blog has been lame lately. Wait! Not so fast.
That's just hurtful that you all were willing to raise your hands without a second thought.
Nah, just kidding. It's been lame.
I'm on Spring Break now and feel like some of my creativity might actually be directed toward this blog. MIGHT.

38 Minutes Long

But worth it

Dear Ms Future President

For 2 Years, She Sat on a Toilet Seat

Thursday, March 13, 2008 - Page updated at 12:00 AM

By ROXANA HEGEMAN

The Associated Press

WICHITA, Kan. — Authorities are considering charges in the bizarre case of a woman who sat on her boyfriend's toilet for two years — so long that her body was stuck to the seat by the time the boyfriend finally called police.

Ness County Sheriff Bryan Whipple said it appeared the 35-year-old Ness City woman's skin had grown around the seat. She initially refused emergency medical services but was finally convinced by responders and her boyfriend that she needed to be checked out at a hospital.

"We pried the toilet seat off with a pry bar and the seat went with her to the hospital," Whipple said. "The hospital removed it."

Whipple said investigators planned to present their report today to the county attorney, who will determine whether any charges should be filed against the woman's 36-year-old boyfriend.

"She was not glued. She was not tied. She was just physically stuck by her body," Whipple said. "It is hard to imagine. ... I still have a hard time imagining it myself."

He told investigators he brought his girlfriend food and water, and asked her every day to come out of the bathroom.

"And her reply would be, 'Maybe tomorrow,' " Whipple said. "According to him, she did not want to leave the bathroom."

The boyfriend called police Feb. 27 to report that "there was something wrong with his girlfriend," Whipple said, adding he never explained why it took him two years to call.

Police found the clothed woman sitting on the toilet, her sweat pants down to her midthigh. She was "somewhat disoriented," and her legs looked as though they had atrophied, Whipple said.

"She said that she didn't need any help, that she was OK and did not want to leave," he said.

She was reported in fair condition at a hospital in Wichita. Whipple said she has refused to cooperate with investigators or medical providers. Authorities said they did not know if she was mentally or physically disabled.

Copyright © 2008 The Seattle Times Company

Duffy

Flickr Vision

This is very cool.

How Great Is This?

I get to meet him next month! He's speaking on compassion and civic responsibility and will be awarded the honorary degree of Doctor of Humane Letters. There will be a part of the afternoon specifically set aside for students to ask questions. I'm so excited!

Tied Together

Yesterday's post was a joke that my sister loves. It's a quote from Road Trip where the dog is high and tells his owner "make me some blueberry pancakes, bitch". Well, I was looking it up this morning, hoping to find a link but instead found a little bit of trivia. Corky the dog was voiced by ... Jimmy Kimmel. Too funny.

"Make Me Some Blueberry Pancakes, Bitch!"

~courtesy of thedailykitten.com

Ishmael

"I need to get me a Logic" (said after he learned how handy my husband is).

School Schmool

It's the end of the quarter and I'm sure feeling it. Pressure from every angle is squeezing all the energy out of me.
40 hours of work
8 hours of school
8 hours of home work
2 hours of yoga
miscellaneous time spent with Logic or taking pictures or.. you know.. sleeping
equals
not much else

I'm hoping my momentum picks back up during Spring Break because I'm going to need it next quarter. But if it doesn't, I'll just take a look around and remind myself that my life has so much potential. I am not going to settle. I will work hard and make a few sacrifices and hey, maybe even get out of this one-bedroom condo someday. Who knows?

The Truth about Vegas

is that it blows.
I went into it thinking I would see some hookers and some sad old guys shriveling over slot machines but I didn't anticipate how dirty the city would be. Not only did it have litter everywhere, but it smelled like feces. And the worst thing of all was seeing minority people passing out prostitution cards, as if it were their only option for putting food on the table.
I was overwhelmed with the facade of it all. Oh yeah, and that smell.

I'm in Deep Smit

I have fallen in love with Jimmy Kimmel, and his girlfriend is to blame.
I used to hate him by association because I cannot stand Adam Corolla (who co-starred with Kimmel on The Man Show, for those who don't know). So I refused to watch his show. But while doing a search for Sarah Silverman on youtube a few weeks back, I stumbled upon a few skits they did together on his show and I must say, I'm in deep smit. (another quote from So I Married an Axe Murdered, aka the best movie of all time.)

A Day to Myself

It's a beautiful day and I've taken a day off from work to decompress. So why am I in front of the computer? Well, I'm trying to organize my pictures onto discs so I have enough room on the computer for photo-shop, which I've had for 2 months and haven't used yet.
I'm almost done and then it's outside for a walk.
It feels good to be home.

One of Those Weeks

Sometimes it's as if time gives me a break just so it can shove a year's worth of crap in my face all at once. Last week was typical: gym, school, Justin, home, work. But this week will be slightly different. Tomorrow I have school, like usual, but Friday is where things get tricky.
Logic will be driving me to the airport early Friday morning and I'll fly out to Dallas to say my goodbyes to an ailing Grandpa while simultaneously hugging my mom and loving my sisters. On top of that, I'll be catching up with a brother that I haven't seen in five fucking years! (way too long) and his family.
Everyone will scatter back home three or four days later, except for me. You see, before my Grandpa had a stroke, I'd booked a trip to Vegas. The option of canceling presented itself but I'm figuring a few days in the sun might be just what I need after a tumultuous weekend. Logic will be flying into Sin City on Monday and spending the day with our friends but I won't arrive until Tuesday (ticket pricing, you know). Tuesday through Thursday will hopefully consist of a few drinks and a lot of pool-time. Then I fly home just in time to attend classes on the 21st.
Here's hoping the week after will be back to normal.

The 40th Floor

Friday mornings are now becoming chat time with my friend, Liz. We both sneak out of our offices and meet at the Columbia Center (halfway between our buildings) for coffee and some girl talk. Yesterday our power went out and a few co-workers took me to that building (where my company has some offices) to take a peak at the Free Room. It's just as it sounds; rooms full of promo books and music - free for the taking. On that trip, I learned that TCC had a Starbucks on the 40th floor! We didn't have time to go there but when the option was presented this morning, Liz was as excited as I to see it.
So we took a special elevator, walked around the corner and there it was. 3 walls of windows overlooking the East view of downtown. It was pretty spectacular. Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of the interior, but here's a shot of the outside.

I think we have a new ritual.

Knock, Knock

Who's there?
It's me! Can you believe it!?!
I realize I've been phoning it in lately but I'm going to use the old tried-and-true school excuse.
Right now all my creative juices are being used to sound smart and witty in the classroom and there hasn't been any left over for this blog. So in honor of those juices that need to be reserved for academic purposes I am going to randomly write out the ideas swirling around in my noggin.
-Cable is the devil. Logic and I upgraded to the premium package and now have too much t.v. Between Orangutan Island, DIY, Sex in Independent Film (which was a little too graphic for my taste, actually), karaoke and even a yoga channel, I feel my soul depleting every time I hit the 'on' button.
-Vegas can't come soon enough; I haven't seen the sun in about 4 days now. February in the NW is a dirty bitch and I will be so glad to have a respite from it.
-It's amazing what a difference music makes during my work-outs. This morning I was struggling on the elliptical. I just wasn't feelin' it. But then (yeah, I'll admit it) Britney's "Break the Ice" came on and I was off and running. I get mesmerized by the beats and find my feet trying to stay in time.
-Every time I use a semi-colon ^(ex: "enough; I haven't") I hear Kurt Vonnegut in my head: "If you really want to hurt your parents, and you don’t have the nerve to be a homosexual, the least you can do is go into the arts. But do not use semicolons. They are transvestite hermaphrodites, standing for absolutely nothing. All they do is show you’ve been to college."
-My mom buys me a calendar every year for my cube. This year's is Live With Intention and the quote for the month is: "At first glance I loved you with a thousand hearts". It makes me smile and miss her every time I see it.

Sarah Silverman

Searches that come up when looking for "Jesus is Magic"
* Sex * Lesbian * Vagina * Grandmother * Vaginal Sex* Hitler* Song* German* Pornography* Water* Comedian* Anal Sex* Bottled Water* Audience* Niece* Stand Up Comedy* Musical Number* Marijuana * Masturbation Scene* September 11 2001* Dressing Room* Friend* Gay Interest* Gay* Barbie * Death * African American* Jewish* Holocaust* Jew* Rape* Nazi* Pot* Racism* Post September 11 2001* Racist Joke* Bong* Music* Character Name In Title
Doesn't it just make you want to watch this with your parents?

Paul Celan

Fugue of Death

Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall
we drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night
drink it and drink it
we are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie there
A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when the night falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete
he writes it and walks from the house the stars glitter he whistles his dogs up
he whistles his Jews out and orders a grave to be dug in the earth
he commands us strike up for the dance

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink in the mornings at noon we drink you at nightfall
drink you and drink you
A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes
he writes when the night falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete
Your ashen hair Shulamith we are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie there

He shouts stab deeper in earth you there and you others you sing and you play
he grabs at the iron in his belt and swings it and blue are his eyes
stab deeper your spades you there and you others play on for the dancing
Black milk of daybreak we drink you at nightfall
we drink you at noon in the mornings we drink you at nightfall
drink you and drink you
a man in the house your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith he plays with the serpents

He shouts play sweeter death's music death comes as a master from Germany
he shouts stroke darker the strings and as smoke you shall climb to the sky
then you'll have a grave in the clouds it is ample to lie there

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night
we drink you at noon death comes as a master from Germany
we drink you at nightfall and morning we drink you and drink you
a master from Germany death comes with eyes that are blue
with a bullet of lead he will hit in the mark he will hit you
a man in the house your golden hair Margarete
he hunts us down with his dogs in the sky he gives us a grave
he plays with the serpents and dreams death comes as a master from Germany

your golden hair Margarete
your ashen hair Shulamith.

Fark for the Day

"Someone Has a Sense of Humor"

It's a Scary, Scary World Out There

So my niece plays hockey on a guy's team and a girl's team. The coach for the guy's team has recently been texting and IMing her on a regular basis; even while he's at work. She's 17, he's in his 40s with a wife and kids. Doesn't this sound like the beginning of an After School Special to you? (Do they even do those anymore?)
My sister is really great with her daughters and had a talk with my niece about how her coach's behavior is inappropriate. My niece said "okay" and that she'd tell him that her parents didn't want him doing that anymore. When I talked to my sister, I suggested she make a formal visit to see him. Just so he knows that she's aware of what's going on and that she's watching him.
It is for reasons exactly like this that I second-guess the thought of ever having kids.

How Much Can One Person Take?

My mom got a call last week from her sister informing her that my Grandpa had a stroke and was in the hospital. His timing couldn't have been much worse - my Aunt Jo, his caregiver, just had shoulder surgery at the beginning of January so she wasn't able to be much help. So my mom and dad drove to Arlington to help out. They've been there for 4 days now and were in the process of transferring my Grandpa to a physical therapy hospital when my Grandma suffered a minor stroke.
I wish there was something I could do. My mom is very stoic in situations like this so I know she's handling everything with grace but seeing her father and then her mother each suffer a stroke within a week has to be indescribably torturous.
My poor Mommy.

*Update: my Grandpa was moved to a Rehabilitation Hospital where he will remain for about a month but his recovery is promising and the doctor said my Grandma's "episode" is typical at her age. Since she went in and out of it within a matter of minutes, he said there really isn't anything they can do and that it was most likely caused by stress.

Just Like The Gym

In the same way that I sometimes struggle with going to the gym, I was having a hard time motivating myself to go to class last night. As soon as I made the connection between the two, I realized I had to go. Never do I regret going to the gym. It's only when I'm having a rough day and I decide to skip it that I regret my decision. And as I drove home last night, I knew I made the right decision.

Round 2

Okay,
I am fortunate to be in school.
I've been waiting for this for 6 years.
I'm taking really interesting classes and learning a lot.
I am changing my life.
I think I can get off my lazy ass and get to class.

Dilemma

Today sucks.
I'm really tired.
I'm feeling gloppy (Whatever that means. The sound of it seems so fitting for how I feel.)
and I just want to go home and crash on the couch.
I feel weak and feeble
and don't want to exert the energy
to drive to school and learn
but if I don't go
Logic will be disappointed in me.
And that's worse than being tired.

A busy weekend leads to a dragging Amaya

I'm having the hardest time getting through this week and I blame Logic's sister for that. She drove up from Oregon last weekend to see us and we took her through the city. On Saturday we drove up to Capitol Hill to see the Asian Art Museum (whoops. no picture of that) at Volunteer Park and then walked down to the arboretum

to see some flowers

in the middle of January. We also climbed a shitload of stairs to an observation deck that overlooked downtown.

After that, we went to La Rustica for the best Italian food in the city and finished the night off with some wine and Scrabble.
On Sunday we drove downtown and walked through the Market

before drinking the afternoon away in the Purple Cafe.


The whole weekend was really great, but damn I'm tired!

John Cage/Marcel Duchamp/Yoko Ono

My Art History class is proving to be challenging and really interesting.
We're learning so many compelling things about Art after the 1960s and also about the type of art that influenced it.
On Tuesday we talked about John Cage. Have you heard of him? In case you haven’t – he was a famous composer who studied Zen and Karl Jung psychology. He incorporated that into his performances, and he later inspired the US movement "The Happenings" organized by Kaprow. We reenacted one of his pieces called 4’33”. He had a famous pianist perform at Woodstock by going onto the stage, opening the piano tray and then sitting there for four minutes and thirty three seconds. Occasionally he would close the key tray and then open it again.. but that was it. It symbolized how music is everywhere and in everything. It doesn’t have to be composed. It can be someone’s breathing or shuffling around in their chair, etc.We did a shortened version of that and it was really cool. All the noises felt heightened.
We also talked about Duchamp and how he changed people’s ways of viewing art too. He took a urinal and turned it 90 degrees and called that art. Very interesting way of thinking. He tried entering the piece in an Art show under a pseudonym and it went missing before the exhibit. He was furious and took his story to the paper. He explained that Art is whatever the Artist chooses it to be and that his piece had every right to be in the exhibit. It was never recovered but still managed to be effective in altering the modern definition of Art.
Also I learned that Yoko Ono is a Fluxus artist (I thought she was just married to a Beatle). Anyway, she did a lot of really interesting performance pieces. One is called Cut Piece and she invites people in the audience to come up and cut pieces of her clothing off. When I first heard about it I thought it was really provocative and it made me uncomfortable. Very sexual. But we talked about it and watched a video clip of one of them and it was REALLY interesting. The performance is symbolic of how women have been treated throughout history. The women in the audience came up and cut little pieces off her sleeve or collar and then this one guy came up and cut her shirt off and the straps of her bra (all of this was spontaneous). It was really interesting to see the classes reaction. Plus, Yoko tried to stay as still as possible but you could tell by her eyes that she was really traumatized by his actions.
I feel like I'm already seeing Art from a different perspective and I can't wait to learn more! I'm going to the Seattle Art Museum this weekend with Logic and his sister and I look forward to seeing if I'm able to apply any of my new-found knowledge.

Litter Police

I never thought I'd end up being the girl who is so frugal that she'll park a mile away just to get free parking and then take the bus to where she's going. But that's exactly what I did on Saturday. Granted, I parked next to the gym knowing I'd eventually end up back there, but still.
I needed to pick up a prescription and then got side tracked at J. Crew before going to my favorite yoga class. A pretty good day, if you ask me. But something happened while I was waiting for the bus that I can't get out of my head.
As I walked down the hill I saw a man waiting at the bus stop I would soon be at. He was a big guy who showed signs of street life and was wearing multiple layers of clothes in what I assume was his attempt to stay warm. He was standing behind a partition to block the wind.
I chose to feel the breeze on my face so I walked past him and stood next to the bus stop.
We waited for ten minutes before the bus to downtown pulled up. Between walking down the hill and getting on the bus there were 2 other buses that teased us by turning into the far right lane and driving right past us. In both of those situations, the man walked from behind the covering toward the actual stop and then after realizing the bus wasn't going to stop, would walk back to the protected benches.
The second time that happened he stopped next to me and proceeded to blow his nose into a new tissue. And then it happened... he threw the Kleenex into a puddle on the side of the road.
I stood there in disbelief for a minute. How could a man who sleeps on these same streets disrespect them like that? Dirtying his own space AND the space of everyone who uses that street.
Had he not been extremely intimidating, I'm not sure what I would have done. But I just kept my mouth shut. How would you have handled that?

How To Win a Fight - Fark

I do not advocate violence - but I thought this was interesting since most girls aren't taught how to fight, which in turn means they aren't taught to defend themselves.
Here's a step-by-step post about how to fight that I found through fark.

Barack Obama

“I want to congratulate Senator Clinton on a hard-fought victory here in New Hampshire.
A few weeks ago, no one imagined that we’d have accomplished what we did here tonight. For most of this campaign, we were far behind, and we always knew our climb would be steep.
But in record numbers, you came out and spoke up for change. And with your voices and your votes, you made it clear that at this moment - in this election - there is something happening in America.
There is something happening when men and women in Des Moines and Davenport; in Lebanon and Concord come out in the snows of January to wait in lines that stretch block after block because they believe in what this country can be.
There is something happening when Americans who are young in age and in spirit - who have never before participated in politics - turn out in numbers we’ve never seen because they know in their hearts that this time must be different.
There is something happening when people vote not just for the party they belong to but the hopes they hold in common - that whether we are rich or poor; black or white; Latino or Asian; whether we hail from Iowa or New Hampshire, Nevada or South Carolina, we are ready to take
this country in a fundamentally new direction. That is what’s happening in America right now. Change is what’s happening in America.
You can be the new majority who can lead this nation out of a long political darkness - Democrats, Independents and Republicans who are tired of the division and distraction that has clouded Washington; who know that we can disagree without being disagreeable; who understand that if we mobilize our voices to challenge the money and influence
that’s stood in our way and challenge ourselves to reach for something better, there’s no problem we can’t solve - no destiny we cannot fulfill.
Our new American majority can end the outrage of unaffordable, unavailable health care in our time. We can bring doctors and patients; workers and businesses, Democrats and Republicans together; and we can tell the drug and insurance industry that while they’ll get
a seat at the table, they don’t get to buy every chair. Not this time. Not now.
Our new majority can end the tax breaks for corporations that ship our jobs overseas and put a middle-class tax cut into the pockets of the working Americans who deserve it.
We can stop sending our children to schools with corridors of shame and start putting them on a pathway to success. We can stop talking about how great teachers are and start rewarding them for their greatness. We can do this with our new majority.
We can harness the ingenuity of farmers and scientists; citizens and entrepreneurs to free this nation from the tyranny of oil and save our planet from a point of no return.
And when I am President, we will end this war in Iraq and bring our troops home; we will finish the job against al Qaeda in Afghanistan; we will care for our veterans; we will restore our moral standing in the world; 12
All of the candidates in this race share these goals. All have good ideas. And all are patriots who serve this country honorably.
But the reason our campaign has always been different is because it’s not just about what I will do as President, it’s also about what you, the people who love this country, can do to change it.
That’s why tonight belongs to you. It belongs to the organizers and the volunteers and the staff who believed in our improbable journey and rallied so many others to join.
We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can withstand the power of millions of voices calling for change.
We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics who will only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks to come. We’ve been asked to pause for a reality check. We’ve been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope.
But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope. For when we have faced down impossible odds; when we’ve been told that we’re not ready, or that we shouldn’t try, or that we can’t, generations of Americans have responded with a simple creed that sums up the spirit of a people.
Yes we can.
It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation.
Yes we can.
It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail toward freedom through the darkest of nights.
Yes we can.
It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.
Yes we can.
It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the ballot; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.
Yes we can to justice and equality. Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity. Yes we can heal this nation. Yes we can repair this world. Yes we can.
And so tomorrow, as we take this campaign South and West; as we learn that the struggles of the textile worker in Spartanburg are not so different than the plight of the dishwasher in Las Vegas; that the hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we
will remember that there is something happening in America; that we are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people; we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter in America’s story with three words that will ring from coast to coast; from sea to shining sea - Yes. We. Can.

Sad Statistics

Little more than one-third of high school seniors now read proficiently.

American adults of virtually all education levels are reading less
well than in the previous decade.

Employers now rank reading and writing as top deficiencies in new hires.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg....
To find out more, you can go to "To Read or Not to Read" here.

Collegiate Life

School starts on Tuesday and I wonder how that will effect the time I give to the ole blog. I've signed up for Reading Major Texts and Art History of the 1960s. Both classes sound really intriguing - but we'll see how I feel about them toward the end of the quarter.

The desk has been put together and my homework station is ready to go. Books have been ordered and will be delivered this week. All I need is to pull my backpack out of the closet and find a binder.

Wish me luck.

Awww for the Day - Baby Panda

courtesy of World Wildlife News

Kurt Vonnegut on Writing Rules

In his book Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction, Vonnegut listed eight rules for writing a short story:

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

Vonnegut qualifies the list by adding that Flannery O'Connor broke all these rules except the first, and that great writers tend to do that.

~courtesy of wiki

Dear 2008,

I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but I was hoping to put in a few requests...
1) Could you please make this a great year for my friend, Lilikoi? 2007 sucked balls for her and I think she deserves a stellar one to compensate. 2) Would you consider having less rain than your 2007 counterpart? Just in the Seattle area. I know there are plenty of places that need the rain; maybe you could spread the love this year? 3) Do you think you could be generous with your time? I'm going back to school and will be juggling that with work and a social life with Logic. It'd be really great if you could help me out so I can find the time to study and sleep. Please?
4) Finally, could you keep an eye on my loved ones? Maybe steer them out of harm's way? And shower them with sunshine when they're feeling down? Thanks for taking the time to listen and I hope you put all the other years to shame.

Orientation

I completed a year and a half of college before moving to Florida with Logic. Looking back, I really should have stayed to complete my AA but I was in love and in a hurry to see the world. Naively, I believed I'd continue school in Jacksonville. I even registered and took 2 classes my first semester there. But half way through the semester I learned that my credits from Oregon wouldn't transfer and instead of taking all General Ed classes over, I chose to halt my education until we moved back to the West Coast.
So I quit school, got a full time job and brought home the bacon while Logic finished up with his BS. (How appropriate that Bachelors of Science is the same as Bull Shit. Just my opinion.) A month after his graduation, we packed up a U-Haul and drove cross-country for the second time. We settled into Seattle and I waited for residency to kick in so I could apply to the UW. But somewhere along the way things got complicated and I got scared. We bought a condo and moved to the West Seattle peninsula. Time progressed and so did my fear of managing school with my ever-expanding grown-up responsibilities. So I put it off. And then I got sick of my job. That pushed me to finally make the leap and I applied to the UW day program in July. And then I waited. And waited.
It wasn't until November 30th that I finally received a letter from school, only it wasn't what I wanted to hear. They'd turned me down. No explanation, no nothing. I moped around for 2 days before Logic brought it up.
There had been a blue slip in the UW packet that asked me to apply to the Evening Degree Program instead. When I first read it, I considered it a slap in the face. "You're not good enough for our day program, but our standards for the night classes are really low so you should look into it." Logic asked me to consider it. He talked about how much he enjoyed the few night classes he took at JU because the students were focused and mature. There weren't girl's giggling in the corner about haircuts and shoes and no guys around talking about their latest conquests. No, the night classes were full of adults. Hard working adults who were making sacrifices to be there.
Not wanting to lump myself in the 'adult' category quite yet, I squirmed at the thought of being surrounded by OLD PEOPLE. But curiosity got the best of me and I decided to look at the curriculum. Interesting classes jumped out from the website more often than I expected and I found myself comparing the schedule I thought I wanted to the one that was staring me in the face. And it seemed the new one was winning. So I decided to apply. Just to see what would happen. And you know what? I got in.
Last night I went to Orientation and met with advisers from financial aid, registration, the health center, the English program and even talked with a Professor from Anthropology. Today I am meeting with an adviser to set up my schedule for classes and in two weeks I'll actually be a student! I can't believe this is finally happening!

The BEAST 50 Most Loathsome People in America, 2007

Ballsy: (but totally true)

9. You

Charges: You believe in freedom of speech, until someone says something that offends you. You suddenly give a damn about border integrity, because the automated voice system at your pharmacy asked you to press 9 for Spanish. You cling to every scrap of bullshit you can find to support your ludicrous belief system, and reject all empirical evidence to the contrary. You know the difference between patriotism and nationalism -- it's nationalism when foreigners do it. You hate anyone who seems smarter than you. You care more about zygotes than actual people. You love to blame people for their misfortunes, even if it means screwing yourself over. You still think Republicans favor limited government. Your knowledge of politics and government are dwarfed by your concern for Britney Spears' children. You think buying Chinese goods stimulates our economy. You think you're going to get universal health care. You tolerate the phrase "enhanced interrogation techniques." You think the government is actually trying to improve education. You think watching CNN makes you smarter. You think two parties is enough. You can't spell. You think $9 trillion in debt is manageable. You believe in an afterlife for the sole reason that you don't want to die. You think lowering taxes raises revenue. You think the economy's doing well. You're an idiot.

Exhibit A: You couldn't get enough Anna Nicole Smith coverage.

Sentence: A gradual decline into abject poverty as you continue to vote against your own self-interest. Death by an easily treated disorder that your health insurance doesn't cover. You deserve it, chump.

~courtesy of buffalobeast.com

Interesting Comparison

courtesy of bushladin

The Year in Review - 2007

I was signing Holiday cards the other day and it got me thinking about the things I wanted to share with my friends; things that I may have forgotten to tell them through email, text or phone calls. This, in turn, got me thinking about what an amazing year I've had. And how little time I've taken to appreciate it. (In an effort to have more time to appreciate it, I'm going to write in list form to speed this up.)

JANUARY

-Drove 7 hours to Willamette Pass to go on a ski trip that didn’t actually involve any skiing (but was still fun).
-Visited by Logic's parents
-Discovered that I have an introvert living inside me who enjoys reading, writing and exercise just as much as the extrovert likes social interaction.

FEBRUARY

-My friend, Melanie won the Card Counting Competition at the Bellagio, breaking the record with 7.8 seconds!
-Received a VHS tape from my parents of a marathon of Cosby Show episodes. Even though I couldn’t find my VCR, I loved their intention. It made me smile.
-Got my groove back in a Hip Hop class
-Fell in love with Flickr

MARCH

-Learned some interesting trivia (ex: All polar bears are left handed.)
-Received a sweet letter from my three year old niece asking me to come play with her.
-Took the wrong bus again and wound up in Lynnwood (30 minutes north of my destination)

APRIL

-Narrowly missed getting crapped on by a bird
-Went to HAWAII
-Did a trial run a month before I was actually supposed to go to a Bridal Shower

MAY

-Hurt my back again
-Went to a funeral
-Went through jogging-withdrawl
-Celebrated my 5^th year wedding anniversary

JUNE

-Saw Barack Obama and Austin Scarlett within a week of each other
-Booty continued to get bigger despite regular gym schedule
-Logic turned 27
-Gave my old therapist the boot

JULY

-Spent the weekend before Paige’s 30^th Anniversary of her Adoption with her and her children
-Visited Moab, Utah for the first time. Stayed in a cabin and hiked to Arches National Park
-Watched The Last King of Scotland and had nightmares for weeks
-Went to my first Gay Pride Parade

AUGUST

-Bawled my eyes out during a Mia Michaels choreographed dance

-St. Augustine, Florida turned 442 years old
-Learned a new form of abstract art from my mom
- Took a trip to Bainbridge Island to tour the Bloedel Reserve
-Cried most of the way through Out of Africa
-Hit Allison in the face with a soccer ball not once, not twice, but three times! Later won the award for worst Aunt ever
-Tried making home made ice cream with disgusting results

SEPTEMBER

-Went camping at Mt Rainier
-Saw a few Mariner’s games
-Met up with a childhood friend
-Flew to Spokane to see Keith Urban (whoohoo!) and to spend the weekend with 2 sisters and a brother
-Went to Jury Duty for the first time and discovered that I rather liked it
-Bought a new-to-me Volvo

OCTOBER

-Read “Eat, Pray, Love” for the first time (I’m on round 2 right now)
-Turned 28
-Went bowling with my work crew and actually had some fun
-Spent my birthday with my parents and husband
-Traveled to Victoria, B.C.
-Found a new therapist after having a mini-meltdown in Canada
-Discovered Lush

NOVEMBER

-Spent Thanksgiving with three dudes
-Had a visit from Paige and her family

DECEMBER

-Celebrated Allison’s 4^th Birthday with her
-Endured a big storm
-Got permission from Jesus himself not to believe in him
-Received an amazing compliment from a writer I admire

I'll be finishing out the year with a trip to Oregon for Christmas with Logic's family and a quick visit from Paige. And then before ringing in the new year, I'll be going to the Symphony with Logic and Daniel.

I'm Having A Moment

A few years ago a co-worker introduced me to blogging. She is a mentor to me, and has been since my very first day on the job. As a scared fish thrown into a big pond to figure things out on my own, she was there to explain and guide me until I learned my way around.
Little did she know when she showed me her blog that she would be giving me a tool I would desperately need in the coming months. Anxiety would rear its ugly head in a way I had never experienced before and writing became this cathartic savior for me. (If you're really bored, you can read through some previous posts and see, very obviously, which days were spent struggling to make sense of the mis-firings in my head.) Somewhere along the way, I found my voice and learned to dissect my thoughts. I credit this blog for a lot of that.
In the beginning, I searched blogs for inspiration and guidance. Some of them are still in my blog-roll while others have gone by the wayside. I love the interaction that this world provides. And more importantly, reading other people sort through their shit too; and come out stronger and wiser. I love that this forum provides lessons in life and that it's not all happy endings and butterflies. These are real lives, real stories and real solutions.
One such blog came to me through flickr. I can't even remember how I stumbled upon flickr, but it quickly tied for first place with blogspot for my affection. One of the first random pictures I saw was of a mother and daughter. It was pure emotion. Creamy white skin merged with cocoa-butter skin in such a natural way. I stared at it for a long time just loving how open this person was with her life. So willing to share. From that day forward, I have tried to follow her photography, and in turn, I started reading her blog.
Today I casually read her post "You Can't Miss What You've Never Had...Except Once In A While" and had to do a double take when she included one of my posts in her story. I guess you could say I had a Moment. I admire her creativity through writing and photography immensely. So for her to say Banter was "beautiful, funny and touching"; well that just blew me away.
It just goes to show how powerful this medium is.

Funny

Not Sure I Can Wait Until Summer 2008

A First

Last night, after 5 years of marriage and 9 years together, I did the unthinkable.
During a moment of innocent teasing, I managed to find myself trapped in the kitchen with the husband manning the door, ready to pounce.
He taunted me. "What are you going to do now?"
And without thinking, I turned around, shoved my ass in the air, and farted.

Fun With Meditation

I had a talk with Jesus today.
I was lying on a cloud, minding my own business when he floated over. We talked awhile and he told me it was alright if I didn't want to believe that he was God. He said I could believe whatever I wanted. He also gave some great advice about what to do when times get tough. He said I should just let it go. And ride the wave.
Did I mention Jesus talked like a surfer?

Okay, But Only Because Everyone Else Is Doing It...

I have Wish-list envy. It seems that every blog I look at now has a wish-list up. And it has me thinking about mine. I'd like to break the list down to things I came up with myself and things I'm stealing from other lists because they are JUST THAT COOL. So here goes...
I'm just that cool and came up with these on my own:
Big Hug Christmas Ornament
An Affair To Remember
Riedel O Pink Champagne Glasses
Cinema Paradiso
VW Fahrenheit
Bathbombs
a Puppy!
or another Puppy!
Pajamas
24-inch: 2.8GHz iMac

They're just that cool and need to be repeated:
Diana Camera From Sexy Lexi
Psychedelic Wellies From Ruby Soho

Banter

As some of you may know, my dad and I email back and forth throughout the day. In the morning, our conversations are about how our previous evenings were spent and what our intentions for the day are. But as the morning turns into afternoon, our conversations digress and we find ourselves making up silly stories. To the untrained eye, it would sound like jibber-jabber but between the two of us, it is full of inside jokes and a lot of teasing about my mom.
For instance, I think I've said this before too, we like to kid that my mom is a drunk. Not funny in most situations (and I don't mean to make light of a very serious condition), but we find humor in it because in all actuality, my mom rarely drinks alcohol. And somewhere along the line, we agreed to include drugs into our little fantasy.
So today, when our banter turned into this:

Dad: Don't look now, but you have some mustard on your upper lip.
Me: How did that mustard get there? I haven't had a hot dog for 2 days now.
Dad: You need to wash your face more than ever four or five days.
Me: Well, no one told me that.
Dad: Not even your mother?

I couldn't help but reply with this:

Me: You sound surprised.
How does her saying go again?...
Wash my face?
What's the point?
I have Mary Kay.
Now pass the joint.

Bathbomb Template

This was the color of my bathwater! Isn't it be-oo-tiful? If you can, try to imagine the scents of lavender, lemon and seaweed. Then add the frothy foam created during the bomb's eruption and throw in a deep turquoise color for effect. Ahhh yes, that's it.
How relaxing.

Choosing a Path

My parents are driving to Amarillo today so that my dad can meet with a dietitian. When asked why, my dad replied by saying something about his age and how he wanted to make sure he was eating the right things to stay healthy. And while I applaud him for being proactive, I can't deny that the conversation freaked me out a little bit.
My parents are old. And not in the 'everybody says their parents are old' kind of way. While I am the tender age of 28, my mom is 65 and my dad is going to be 70 in April. Those are the breaks when you're the youngest of six children. (And I will forever be left knowing that my older siblings all spent more time with our parents than I ever will.)
I should count myself lucky because I enjoy spending time with my parents. I know my situation isn't exactly the norm. For one, my parents are still married. Over forty years of marital work, and they are still going strong. For another, they're great parents. And to sum up what could potentially be a very long list, they're pretty damn fun too. But all of those pros don't take away from one big con: we won't be growing into old age together.
After talking to my dad, my anxious mind went into a similar spiral to the one I just exhibited. I was saddened at the thought of my parents not remaining their spry selves. Of their embarrassment when the time comes for them to need help doing daily tasks. And the realistic potential of consoling one after the other one passes. But I quickly realized that I was leading myself down an unhealthy path. After all, the 'what ifs' are a token sign of anxiety. And once I start down that road, it gets harder and harder to turn around and rush back to safety.
So instead I chose to remind myself that this is a habit I'm trying to break. No one knows the future so there is no need to fret about it. The only thing worrying will do is lead me right down the path I'm trying to avoid.
So I took a deep breath and put a smile on my face. That's a good start.

Christmas Is Early This Year

Robert Benchley

"There are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe there are two kinds of people in the world and those who don't."

Share a Story, and a Meal

Sometimes it's easy to feel helpless. For example, on my way to work, I pass a part of town that is popular with Seattle's homeless. There's usually a person or two begging for money at the off-ramp, but for that one person, there are four more huddled together in a car or finding shelter under the bridge.
When I can, I try to share my lunch but as I pass along my orange or my sandwich, I can see the huddle of people in the shadows and my attempt to help suddenly doesn't feel like enough.
I'm sure you can think of a time when your gesture to help didn't seem like enough either. But at least you did something. Helping one person in their struggle just might pay it forward, so to speak. So if you'd like to pay it forward today, here's your chance. Why not share a story here?
For every story you share, Country Crock will donate a meal through Second Harvest.
Go on. I'm sure you can think of something.

One Of My Favorite Things

Jim Gaffigan. 'Nough said.

I Need a Beer

Today has been rather stressful. The holidays will do that around here. Plus, Logic had some complications when trying to buy a new cell phone today (seems they want to charge him an extra $40 a month for the service required for the phone) AND someone kept trying to fax something to my cell phone number AND I had a difficult account. AND...

Random Thoughts

Today's is a real doozy. I was sitting in the bathroom (where I have all of my profound thoughts) when this went through my mind:
"I may have been rejected by UW and I may be one of only 3 people at work without a laptop but at least I'm not fat."

Feeling Very Fortunate

~photos courtesy of Seattletimes.com