Sometimes I wonder if my brain has reached its limits. True, such wonderment often is accompanied by cumulative biochemistry finals, but it's here all the same. This weekend my memorization, organization, and capacity for learning have been stretched so far that I'm not sure it can be stretched another morsel. I can only hope to emerge on the other side, battle weary, but clutching a hard-earned A above my battered brain.

Last Chance!

I just realized it's my last chance for a November 2009 blog post! Yikes! Time has been shrieking away from me like it's the kid who scares easily and I'm the questionable stranger offering it even more questionable candy outside my windowless van. I'm almost giddy at the nearness of the end of finals. Sure, I still need to study and partake in the actual finals, but I'm focused on the yet-unread novels that are lustily purring: "rrrread me." Roll that "r" in "read" like you're a voluptuous Brazilian tango dancer named Lola.

Unable to bear the wait, I cracked open The Wings of the Dove and snuck in a few chapters when there were a kazillion other things I ought to have done. No terrific harm has come of it yet. Aside from my itch to say things like "thither" and "ought" in a high, funny accent.

T had his nasolacrimal roto-rooting last Tuesday, so he's been an invalid for the past week, but my nursing instincts have long since evaporated, leaving him shall we say, pouty. To be fair, he's improved marvelously, but still tries to squeeze an extra couple of drops of sympathy out of me from time to time. I was a class A caregiver for the first few days when he really needed it. Truly, I went above and beyond. But like my feelings toward fibromyalgia: if you look fine, you're fine -- so goes my zealous coddling. Done when my work is done...like a thief in the night.

Mock Interview

Today was mock interview day! I knew it was just a mock interview, but they were writing a letter of recommendation for me based on my performance, so I was still nervous. I got there early and chatted with the secretary while the panel convened and reviewed my file. My nerves slowly cooled their jets as I walked into the conference room, realizing that these were just people who wanted to groom me for a good interview, and that I looked fabulous:

I felt pretty good about most of the questions and most of my answers, but I definitely could have done some better preparation. So after an hour of questions and answers being fired back and forth, they asked me to step out of the room as they discussed my performance. A little nervous, I stepped out of the conference room and went back to chatting with the secretary (thank you, oh thank you dear, kind secretaries for allowing me to chat away my anxiety) until all of the interviewers but the two pre-med advisors left. I went back into the room and girded my well-dressed loins for some intense feedback.

"In the eight years that I have been doing this for all of our pre-meds, you are in the top two of everyone we have interviewed."

WHA!?!?! Did I misunderstand your German-ish accent? Did he say top two ever interviewed? YES that is what he just said! All of that fretting, not for naught, but for being one of the best EVER! I am happy? Excited? Jubilantly flabbergasted? The repeated capital letters would suggest yes.

To top off a joyous moment, when I finished the interview, it looked like a blizzard outside. Like God was weeping soft, frozen flakes of fluffy pride for my sole pleasure. Not one person I spoke to expressed anything remotely related to my own glee at the white glory building up on the ground. Some people just don't see the beauty in the most beautiful season of the year! Winter! It's the best season of them all, just stop your whining already and go make a snow angel! If I had the time this weekend, I would be skiing until class on Monday morning. But homework and the Free Clinic are beckoning...

By the way, the poor quality of the picture is because I took it with my iSight camera from a few too many feet away. You see, when I held out the camera to my husband, explaining that I needed a picture of me in my outfit for my grandma and for my blog, he looked at me like I had just asked him to eat the gum off the bottom of my shoe. So I said "UUUGGHHLLLLFFFDDDwhateveri'lldoitmyself." There weren't any batteries in the camera anyway, so I used my computer.

Robin

Friday we went over to Yakima and did some studying at a coffee shop before I got my hair cut. The lady who cuts my hair (Robin) used to go to my grandparents’ church, and I’m always amazed at how she is able to handle the things life throws at her.

Her daughter is a druggie who has had two children, one of whom Robin and her husband (who is coming back from the brink of vegetable-hood after a terrible car accident and subsequent drug reaction) adopted and now raise, the second they gave up for adoption because they couldn’t handle another child. Last week, their neighbors got into another one of their usual fights (physical and verbal), and it ended with one of the neighbors shooting himself in the head, on the other side of the wall where her 5-year-old granddaughter was trying to sleep. A few days later, her still not-quite-right husband left the stove on and started a fire in their kitchen.

This is a woman who has had some curve balls thrown at her by the game of life, and she still manages to welcome the day with a smile and an unshakeable faith. She inspires me and causes me to look at my own life in grateful humility. As stressors go, I have it good.

The gene

There is some odd, but blessed little gene that persists within my body that is keeping me afloat. Now, genes are tiny. I mean really tiny. We're made up of around 30,000 genes, all of which are found in chromosomes. For an idea of how small chromosomes are, here is a great scaled drawing (scroll to go deeper into the picture). So whatever this gene is (ok, to be fair, it's probably not a gene, but that is a different discussion altogether), it has given me the gift of optimism. I am so optimistic about my future contributions to the world that it may be bordering on unrealistic.

Even in the face of my rejection e-mail from the University of Washington, who somehow managed to be polite but a little condescending -- I think a red REJECTED stamp might have been a little less hurtful, I have hope. Hope that I will get in to PNWU this year, and become great. I'm excited about the idea to start a student-run free clinic, meet people with common goals and new experiences, and learn and learn and learn. It's a program whose philosophy resonates with my own: hands-on healing medicine. Just get me to the interview and I'll convince them!

I must be making up for something today...

How do I describe today...especially when it's not even over yet. It was just one of those days where all you can do is shake your head and laugh.

I woke up at FIVE THIRTY because it's daylight savings time or the end of daylight savings time or something. All I know is that I get to feel like I control time for two days out of the year to get back at it for controlling me for the other threehundredsixtythreeandonequarter. So I tumble outta bed and stumble into the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition, and yawn and stretch and slowly come to life. Then I remember...the bike trainer is here! Yesterday, Travis drove to Portland (and back...in the same day...poor guy.) to pick it up and now here it is. Glorious fluid-filled contraption letting me ride my bike during the time when roads and temperatures are utterly inhospitable!

So it's 5:36 and I'm trying to figure out how to put the darn thing together. I took the legs off, put them in a different spot, realized that didn't work, so put them back to where they were originally. I swapped the rear skewer out of my bike, then backed it into the trainer to try and figure out how the mother of crap this thing is supposed to fit. I finagled. I wrenched. I screwdrivered. Then out shuffles my husband from his sleeping lair to see what kind of mechanic-ing I was attempting that involved the clanging of so many tools. I was sorry I woke him up, but glad he called me handy...in his own special way. So he started monkeying with the trainer too, coming to the conclusion that, yep, it would not work with my bike.

I have been obsessing over the arrival of this thing for weeks! And it doesn't work with my bike?! Come on. So T sent an email to the company to ask what modifications could be made to get this to work for my bike. By the way, his bike works fine.

Onward.

My computer started freezing up after T and I were messing around with some file sharing stuff, so I decided to restart it. It turned off and turned on...but it didn't get very far. The gray startup screen was stalling. I restarted again. And again, and again. Nothing. So T started doing some hacker stuff to try and get it to work. He ended up reinstalling the whole OS, then was going to restore to one of my backup points in our Time Capsule (blessed time capsule, you have saved me much pain and suffering). Except...no full backups were found. Eventually, my backups were found, but not before I nearly had a stroke. After 4+ hours not knowing if I had lost everything on my computer, my magician husband fixed it. Ahhhh.

So after snuggling my newly-restored computer, I ran out to the mailbox to see if my Jillian Michael's 30-day Shred had arrived and it had! Excited that I would get to do some new exercise routine today, I ripped open the package and there it was! .....The Little Mermaid 2-disc special edition. Seriously? The Little Mermaid? That's pretty much my least favorite Disney Princess. She's so whiney. And no exercise video!? You've got to be kidding me.

I only burned one of the sheets of cookies that I made today (and I never burn cookies), so I guess that could have been a little worse. But now, I am tired. All you can do is laugh when these days happen, but let us all commemorate November 1st as the day that things most certainly did not line up for ole me.

Monster twitch

For the better part of an hour, my arm has been twitching. My triceps brachii, to be a little more exact. And it is driving me absolutely crazy. Doesn't it know that I am busy studying and would be much better off if it would quiet down and cool it with the shenanigans? That's right, I just used some Celtic profanity on your ass, muscle. It's not even rhythmic in any way. I could probably handle regular, periodic twitches, but it's the wild unpredictability of it all that gets my goose all up in a gander. If that's a thing. Come to think of it, the whole thing reeks of brachialis. A notorious diva always clamoring for attention in one way or another. Look, brachialis, we all know that you are the best at flexing elbows, but you can't even pronate or supinate the forearm, so just quiet down and let me get some studying done.

Ok, some stress may be getting to me...

Ironically, I'm trying to study for my stress management class right now.

It's been a week full of tests, secondary applications coming my way, transcript drama, getting back biochemistry tests marked with a solid...C+, and muscle twitches (seriously brachialis, you're the proverbial straw). Secondary applications are sent from medical schools who think that your 19 page primary application was A-Okay and goll-ee they'd sure like to know more. Oh yeah, please send another $200 our way too ok thanks. If it weren't for the near-paralyzing fear of flat-out rejection from every school, I just might tell them to stop sha-noodling (for lack of a non-offensive way to say "screw") money out of poor college students who just want to give you hundreds of thousands of dollars so we can learn to be doctors. So I'm back to the non-stop world of the Medical School Application Process. Seek ye first the good things of the mind, and the rest will either be supplied or its loss shall not be felt, insisted ye olde Sir Francis Bacon. The future does not belong to the faint of heart; it belongs to the brave, quoth my dear friend Ronald Reagan.

The folksy bits of this entry are thanks to the recent reappearance of Sarah Palin back into the news. I am trying to regurgitate (aka vomit) every word I have heard (or read) her speak out of my body. If I do that, she doesn't exist, right? Maybe she is making my muscle twitch.

The box of crazy

I got knocked off my rocker a little bit today and held it together until this evening when all I could feel was OVERWHELMED! I can't even think that word without it being in all caps and with an exclamation point. I had a lab practical today, and I felt cooly prepared as usual because, well, I prepared. An hour before the exam, I did a quick review and realized that I didn't know how to do a very key thing: calculate generation time. After a few frantic minutes scouring the internet for an answer, I figured it out. But the lid of my Pandora box o' crazy was opened. And the world trembled in fear.

Patience? Evaporated. Appearance? Frenzied. Do not, oh do not bother me because I have to fold the laundry study for my test catch up on my reading for biochem micro health and stress management (irony) get groceries walk the dog check my transcripts make dinner do the dishes clean the counters check my AMCAS my hair is in my face and I'm about ready to snap. All wrapped up in a silent, tight lipped scowl. What do I normally do? Make a list. And lists are genius. I didn't stop to make a list today, I just looked around and all I could see was futility and disaster. Enter go mode. I just do one thing after another (still with the silent, tight lipped scowl) until I can see the forest through the trees and then sit, relax, reflect, and write. The list will come soon. Obviously I did not do all of my "necessary tasks" and obviously I didn't need to. When I'm OVERWHELMED! all I can see is what needs to be done and believe that I must do it. Now.

The haze of fervor has passed and here I sit, ready to veg out.

Clinic.

I love the free clinic. Where else would someone let a know-nothing like me give shots, do sutures, and take ultrasounds? It's a fantastic experience, often exhilarating, but yesterday was somewhat less than splendid. There were people that were really sick, and felt they didn't have the resources to deal with it. We saw a few people with very concerning cardiovascular problems, but none more so than a volunteer firefighter I'll call Russ.

Russ was apologetic to be using the free clinic, but needed a work release signed by a physician and just couldn't afford to go anywhere else. His eyes were warm, but distant, heavy with a thousand other things on his mind. His shirt was riddled with holes, as were his socks, although he did his best to quickly hide the holes from our sight. In a soft but urgent tone, he confessed to me that he was short of breath often, and experienced regular pain in his left arm. He was embarrassed to admit what he considered to be weaknesses, and didn't want to be where he was in life. Broke, sick, and nothing to show for his hard-earned 40-some years. But he needed a physical so he could work.

It took me a second or two to process what I heard when I put the stethoscope to his chest. I remained calm and stoic, and passed the stethoscope back to the doctor. I stepped back, and played the sound I had just heard over and over in my head. It was not the steady lub dub, lub dub that you intimately know and feel within your own chest. It was the sound of five pairs of tennis shoes tumbling around and around inside a dryer. No rhyme, no reason, no rhythm: atrial fibrillation. His heart no longer knew how and when to pump, and in that condition, he would die in seconds, minutes, or months. Russ was a time-bomb. I wouldn't bet ten dollars that he would make it down the stairs and I wouldn't bet five that he would make it through the week.

When he asked how to fix it, the doctor replied without hesitation to go to the hospital immediately. To both of our surprise, Russ politely declined and asked to just get his work release signed so he could get back to work. Of course, that was an impossibility. Russ could not work, he was going to die any second if he didn't get to a hospital. That didn't matter. He was scared, but simply could not afford a trip to the hospital, he had to provide for his parents. The doctor pressed him, you can't provide for your parents if you're dead. Russ asked if he could just get the tests run at the hospital then come back to the free clinic for medication and treatment. However, the drugs to treat atrial fibrillation must be given under observation because they can be unpredictable. No, the only place for Russ was the hospital. And he wouldn't go.

The doctor and I both of course wanted to help him, tried to explain that since he truly had no money, they couldn't refuse him and probably wouldn't charge him. Russ felt that was dishonest. The doctor gave him the name of a social worker. Russ didn't call. We both wished that we could treat him at the free clinic. The doctor had the knowledge but not the tools, and I had neither.

Lesson learned: I can only do my best to give people the resources, suggestions, and medicine that they need. What they do with that knowledge is out of my hands.

Interviewing

It may be a little premature, but I'm starting to obsess over what to wear to interview. So many things look great, but there are so many choices to make. Skirt or pants? I love wearing both...but pants may be more appropriate, less sexy. Or is that me thinking overly well of my gams? Tweed or wool or other? I do love tweed, confirming my suspicion that I was born to wear Chanel, but maybe a classic grey wool would be better.

Confounding my dilemma, all the shoes that catch my eye are either too sassy or taunt me with a sultry "you can't afford me." However...all the books and sites do say to invest in a quality interview outfit....Yeah good luck with that one, self.

I guess if you go too long without buying stuff, you get some irrational I-wants. When it comes down to it, we all know that I'll shop as miserly as Scrooge McDuck, and I won't have fun doing it. Somehow the shopping gene got deleted during transmission in utero, because it's not fun and I'm pretty much worthless after one hour, while my grandmother can go for days. I suppose that's a good thing, though. Otherwise I might be a very well-dressed homeless person. I will definitely be a well-dressed med school applicant. After thousands of dollars for application fees and traveling for interviews, what's an extra couple hundred for a classy suit?

OC'd

I'm compulsively checking my email and my application status, waiting for the verified stamp to finally appear. Realistically, it will be a few weeks, but compulsive I remain. And it's trickling into compulsively forgoing studying in my current classes for day-dreaming and researching what future med-school classes may look like. It may be a good idea to start practicing some of the good study skills that I will (hopefully) need next year.

I need to tune back into the present, but I seem to be missing some important catalyst. I suppose the threat of a microbiology test on Thursday may get me moving, but I tend to leave more than a few things until the last minute. Another habit I need to start breaking...

Decisions

I'm a pretty non-commital person, lacking in a few decision-making skills. Where do you want to go for coffee? I don't care. What do you want for dinner? You pick. What should our Microbiology research project be on? Oh, doesn't matter to me--choose whichever one you want. Don't get me wrong, I'm all over things that really matter. If an important decision is necessary, I'll make it with appropriate consideration and little hesitation. An overly farty husband? Hit him and kick him out of the room immediately.

One thing that needs no deliberation is how I feel about dinosaurs. I. Hate. Them. What part about dinosaurs is not terrifying? Their giant teeth? The sheer size of the monsters? The fact that they EAT people in every scenario that the two species co-exist? I was really getting into The Land of the Lost trailer tonight when what starts tearing across the screen in a massive blur of scales and drool? Oh yes. A dinosaur. I actually shrunk the window that the trailer was playing in so I could see other things in the background, and remember my mantra. Dinosaurs are not real they are not real they are not real they are not real. I'm not sure why they scare me so severely, it may be because I watched Jurassic Park at too young of an age. However, my current theory is that I may have been torn viciously into tiny pieces by a hungry T-Rex in a previous life.

I am, in fact, moderately concerned that if we do have multiple lives, each of mine have ended and will end at the claw or dagger-like tooth of some carnivorous beast. This seems to be a rational explanation for an otherwise irrational fear and I'll stick with it until a better one comes around.

But back to decision-making. It's possible that I will be faced with a decision in the near future, and I'd like to make it now, now, now, but there are too many unknowns. Which school will I get into? What if I don't get into any? Which school will T get into? What if we get into different schools? It's a whole big crapbag full of what-if's and darn it, I'm ready for some resolution. Of course, it will likely be months. So I try to put the day-dreaming (or day-what-if-ing) aside and concentrate on school now...yeah right.

A salute...

Here's to you, overly-flu-concerned-Asian-exchange-student. You don't care if people stare at you with mild curiosity and concern, you're wearing your surgical mask to school and not taking it off. Sure, you're probably going to get the flu anyway, but meanwhile you can make other people uncomfortable as they start wondering if you have SARS or tuberculosis. It's strange, but kind of ok because you're foreign. So go ahead, wear the flimsy paper mask and flash the peace sign as you filter into the classroom, I guess the other Asians won't think it's weird. Heiwa. Ni hao.

Morning person!

I love mornings. They're quiet, I have solitude, and I'm under no obligation to look even remotely cute. Still, when I've been up since somewhere between 5 and 6, I'm ready for some company when 9:00 rolls around. So I chastised my husband to quit sleeping until 11. Gradually start setting your alarm a little earlier, I advised. Unfortunately, now he rumbles out of bed at 7:10.

This is not ok.

My morning space is being encroached upon, and I can't complain now because he'll just start sleeping in again like one of those unemployed lumps you see on Judge Joe Brown. So my conundrum is answered by setting my own alarm even earlier. However much of a morning person I may be, there is a limit to what you can call "morning." I'm just going to have to hope that he doesn't go for any earlier times to rise, or I'm going to need a new bedtime of 7pm.

In other news, today is the day I kiss my AMCAS goodbye. I'm checking it over one last time, then sending it out to the powers that be. I don't think that I have agonized over anything to the extent that I am agonizing over this time-hungry process. After I click the submit button, I still have to recreate the whole thing for the osteopathic schools but trim my essay by 1000 characters. Don't even ask me how I'm going to do that, because I just don't know. All I want from all of this is one measly letter that shrugs and says, Ok. You're in.

Then the real fun/anguish/stress can start kicking in.

AMCAS

So I'm guilty of leaving the blog in the dust for five months. My excuse? I felt I needed to save my creative energy for my med school personal statement. The reality? I didn't write it until a couple of weeks ago. Further, it was one of the toughest things I'd ever written, and that may well have been because my writing wheels were rusty. So here I am, the prodigal blogger.

I was inspired by a blog I found by a med student recounting her (his?) experiences and thought I should follow suit. Why not? It'll keep me from getting rusty and maybe I'll sell it and make a fortune. Ok, maybe not a fortune.

I'm here in my second to last quarter of college and it's a little bittersweet. I haven't really followed the traditional path of the undergrad, but it's been fun all the same. I got a taste of sorority life, went through the drinking-in-the-dorms-then-go-to-the-bars phase, was humbled through a little taste of failure, and empowered by getting back on the collegiate horse. Now that I'm staring that B.S. practically in the eye, I cringe at the thought of entering the real world and leaving the bubble of academia. Sure, school can be stressful, but at least I'm not sitting at a desk for 8 hours every day or asking for some douchebag's order (never again. I hope.) Please let me be a student forever.

I got a little taste of that officey real world during my internship/practicum. It was enlightening, but not much fun.

Post-MCAT, I'm living in the final days of the AAMC medical school application. Polishing my words and trying to iron creases over my bad grades are all I have left before I kiss it goodbye. Of course, I still have to recreate the application for the AACOM, but the deadline is much less pressing.

What is there to know about the AAMCAS?

It's long. Longer than you think. So do yourself a favor and start it early because if you wait until the week before it's due, you'll be a giant, tearful ball of stress. Trust me, I know. Because like most things, my dear husband left his application 'til the last minute and now we're both paying the price. Also, the personal statement is a toughie. There's not a lot of room for you to divulge everything that's important to you, so you have to pick and choose, and it needs to be awesome. This is the last thing that I've yet to finish; people are looking it over with tough criticism and as a signature first-draft-Sally, editing (Ok, and criticism) is a tough pill to swallow. I ship the whole thing off tomorrow, so I am spending most of my day between the Microbiology lab and this dreaded application. With luck, this will all be worth it.

Stay tuned, I'll be a better blogger.

I used to have my homepage set to Google, but I have the handy little Google search bar that comes in Safari, so I decided that it would be OK if I changed it. Sometimes little changes like that bug me. I don't mind the big things like moving or trying new experiences, but the small day-to-day things can really be tough to change. For instance, when I pick a seat in a class, that is my seat. My seat. My seat. I'll whine and complain about how badly Mr. McBroadback sitting in front of me smells (like a hot McDonald's ball pit), but I won't move. Because that's my seat. Anyway, the homepage change was one of those big deals.

But it was worth it! I changed it to stickyscreen.org where you can type a couple of lines on an electronic Post-It. So far, I've been choosing motivational-y quotes to keep my desire and my motivation for studying at premium levels. Yesterday: "Persistence of action comes from persistence of vision." Today: "When you live for a strong purpose, hard work isn't optional, it's necessary."

A study break

As I moseyed over to blogger to while away my 27th study break, I took a pit stop at the Imagination Prompt Generator whose prompting words of inspiration were naturally: "What should you be doing right now instead of being on the computer?" I scoffed, scowled, and squirmed, and quickly urged it on to the next prompt which glimmered: "Write a rhyming poem about your car." How gladly I obliged to that request:

My ride is a truck of white

(I could have rhymed to truck, but how trite)

When climbing up hills

She spitters and sputters

And gives nervous chills

That make us all shudder in fright.

Ah, but I am remiss!

I've yet to name this miss

Who deigned to transmit

My beau and our shit

All snugly fit

From the South to the Washington bliss.

As I have you all rapt and in wonder

I'll be apt in amending my blunder

Just let me sidetrack first

She's riddled with rust in each cranny

Every nook hides some dust and dirt

And I think she needs a new tranny

(not like that, you pervert)

I've built this up to seem far too juicy

After all she's just my old truck

With plenty of room for a...duck

My dear rusty ride, Lucy.

I'm pretty sure I should incorporate rhyming into my everyday life...

Updates

I took the plunge last night and got rid of Facebook. It felt great and now I'm even considering giving Myspace the cyber-boot...although I don't want to regress into the Stone Age. The main problem with Facebook was that it was getting too crowded, especially with some of the more maddening members of my hyper-religious extended family. I didn't see a real benefit to having it in my life other than getting annoyed, so I canned it.

Especially in the age of the Internet, it's easy to become overextended and overwhelmed with meaninglessness. By eliminating some of it, I'm opening up enormous amounts of time to do more important things.

In other news, I started the volunteer program in the ER and got my internship at the hospital in town. I've been slacking on studying for the MCAT and am making a conscious effort to step it up this week. I'm going shopping with mom in Seattle this Friday, Dog-Friendly wine tasting with Coltrane and Travis this Saturday, and Crimestopper's canyon bicycle ride next Saturday. A fun two weeks are in store!

I'm out of creative gas.

I just realized how long it's been since my last post. I've been channelling my creative energy into the endless pile of lit reviews that I have to do this quarter, so I really don't have a whole lot left to put into blahging.

Spring has been wavering between a cuddly lamb and a giant sasquatch...but today was very lamby. Coltrane and I had an awesome trail run today; with any luck, my legs got a shade or two darker. If anyone's counting, that still leaves the score at blindingly white.

I am pretty blank...so I'm going to go help the boys of our trailer court make a fire pit...

We'll see how that goes.

Guilty books.

Whether it's your facebook profile or polite conversation, the question comes up: "What's your favorite book?" I believe I have fantastic taste in books and have a quick-list of replies always at the ready; the classics (To the Lighthouse, To Kill a Mockingbird), the modern (Lolita, Song of Solomon), and the immortal (Lonesome Dove) are all wonderful indications of one's repertoire of reading. But there is a lie of omission slinking knowingly in the shadows of these literary giants; unoffended and understanding, it lurks as you glibly gloss over its very existence. Every avid reader has one.

It's your guilty pleasure book: trashy, silly, terribly written, or terribly nerdy. But reading it makes hours seem like minutes and leaves you as satisfied as a double-fudge brownie ala mode minus the stomachache.

So why the shame? Why not proudly proclaim just how sugary sweet and satisfying your beloved book actually is? I imagine it's hard to defend something that you know is completely void of substance and originality, so we simply deny its existence in order to savor its value. You know that person who raves about how "amazing" the Twilight books are? Yeah, no one wants to be that guy. I vomited in my mouth a little after the first 15 pages, and if you are the one raving about it, I immediately judge you to have zero taste in books. Sorry, that's just my little slice of judgementalism (I think that should be a real word); to avoid it, don't tell me that you "looooove" Twilight. Meanwhile, I'll keep my guilty book close to my heart and turn to it on that rare rainy Sunday afternoon when I'm alone and unoccupied; and on Monday, I'll be cheerier than you've ever seen me.

Think globally, act locally.

It is a miracle that anyone knows anything about what is going on in the world. The news feeds are heavily concentrated on who shot whom which city, bemoaning the state of the world's economy, what Britneyparismadonnamichelleobama is wearing today, and what father had a years-long incestuous relationship with his daughter. There is a reason for this narrow news: it sells. In an America where Congress and the Administration are tying a noose around the neck of Capitalism, the news is secretly (or not) thriving on it. The left lauds a serious, objective news source, while the right closes their eyes and ears and stomps their feet in frustration that the source is too left-leaning.

The problem is, very few are asking about the enormous voids that are a gaping black hole of no-information. There are real catastrophes in the world today that are invisible to those too self-involved or uneducated to look. Cholera in Zimbabwe, genocide in Sudan, promising treatments for HIV, Syphilis outbreaks in bible towns, malnutrition, suicide, obscene infant mortality rates, disastrous and expensive obesity. Why are these people invisible? Where can you find them?

I believe the first step to finding these abandoned souls is through education. Unfortunately, you have to know how to dig and know how to look for information, otherwise they will remain unacknowledged and disappear right beneath our eyes. Once you find what is really going on around the world, not just the sensationalized stories, it is hard to handle. You can only care about so much before you get burned out. My solution: think globally, act locally.

It's important to keep your finger on the pulse of the world to be able to truly put things in perspective, but you'll never save the planet. Sorry, it's just not going to happen. It can push us to act in our own communities though; be a visible participant in necessary issues and gather the rest of the community to help. Start at home to meet your own needs, because you're no good to anyone else if you don't start there.

Ah the World Wide Web

Back to school once again. I'm excited for this quarter because I have a relatively light load with only one science class; the rest are public health and one psychology class. This should give me ample time to schedule in some MCAT study time, relax, and be productive.

Weatherwise, it was a weird day. A little rain this morning, followed by a brief interlude of calm sunshine, then violent wind and snow, and finally just some gusting, obnoxious wind. But I gritted my teeth and hopped on the bike for what I hoped would be a quick 10 miles. It was good at first (thank you, tailwind), but progressively worsened to the point where I was pedaling madly and barely going 5 mph. I altered my loop once I realized that Kittitas highway was extremely bicycle-unfriendly with jackass rednecks passing me with only inches to spare, and then honking as if I was committing some terrible injustice against them. The last half of the loop was pretty agonizing, but I made it back in 45 minutes even after stopping a couple of times to check my trusty iPhone map to see how in the hell I could get off that death highway. The bike felt good and stable, I like and trust it more each time I ride it.

The prompt I got today made me laugh, because it's something I wonder every so often anyway: "What did you do before we had the internet?"

Seriously, what did we do? The internet plays such a central role in my life that I can barely imagine its nonexistence. I had a set of encyclopedias and a telephone book and lots of crazy colored pencils back in the pre-internetic days. These are all obsolete now. I would never buy an encyclopedia set, I throw away the phonebook as soon as they deliver it, and I have one pencil that I only use for Scantron tests and Organic Chemistry. But there had to be some other things to fill all my time spent on the internet. Or maybe doing things without the internet took up so much time that it evens out; the extra time is just spent looking at more stuff on the internet. I was pretty young when the internet was first hitting homes, so it's hard to remember anyway...but I do know that I love my internet-laden lifestyle, and wouldn't go back to the dark ages. Anything you could ever want to know is at your fingertips, and it is glorious.

Windy day

Today was almost unbearably windy. We went to Yakima to attempt to escape the gusting pest, but not with very much luck. Still, we went to the Northtown Coffeehouse and relaxed for a while. The juxtaposition of the coffeehouse and wine culture with the patrons of the jail and bond shop is so stark that it would be comical if it didn't inspire more than a little unease. The irony of a polished, swanky coffeehouse residing in the former home of the infamous Blue Banjo, depriving the crackheads and prostitutes of an alcohol-imbued haven is so richly steeped in symbolism and meaning that it's enough to make your head spin giddily in rumination.

Instead of going for a bike ride today, I went for a run to try to minimize the effect of the wind. It was tough and I didn't feel great, but I surpassed my goal for the workout and I feel good now. Hopefully the wind will die down tomorrow and I can have a good time on the bike.

For dinner tonight: whole wheat pasta with tomatoes, onion, garlic, and portobello mushrooms along with some wilted spinach and garlic bread. If I had it to do over, I wouldn't have bought the spinach. It's not the most satisfying veggie in the world, but at least I know I'm good on my iron now. I've been doing well with dinners lately and not jumping to a quick unhealthy fix (cough...chicken nuggets). This break has been a great chance to try out some new flavors and new recipes without feeling guilty about squandering time better spent on studying. I'm putting in effort and not cutting any corners while I have the time, and the only frozen goods I have are chicken (breasts and unapologetically, nuggets), veggies, and berries. I love not having a microwave, and it's been over a year and a half since I've had one and I've only missed it twice. All in all, I think I'm doing pretty well! I haven't put a date on it yet, but I'm doing the underwater weighing/body composition again this year and I'm aiming for 20%. It's kind of weird to put that on blogger, but I think it's better to have more accountability, and when you put something on the internet, you're pretty accountable. So that's the goal. It's happening.

Break, hunting, and accomplishments: an amalgam.

Spring break is nearing an end faster than a freight train headed toward a hapless turtle. I've enjoyed myself though. It's been relaxing and refreshing to clear my head, but short enough so that I don't lose my drive going into Spring quarter. I haven't been thrilled with the weather this week (rainy, gloomy, and windy), but the bright side is that I don't have classes on Fridays now, so I don't feel entirely cheated. Tonight I was treated to a beautiful spring break dinner and had a lovely day with my husband. That is the way to wrap things up.

Usually this is the time of year that I create my training plan, but since I'm not planning on any tri's this summer, I haven't been too excited about it. Still, there is a chance that I will do a last minute registration on one if someone is looking for a buddy. So my plan is to focus on running and cycling for pleasure...and hit the pool if I feel like it, or if a tri seems imminent. The big deal is getting started.

For the first two weeks, I'm going to try for 5 days a week: 3 cycling and 2 running. I'm just going to pay attention to my body and evaluate what distances/times to go for, then build from there. I think I'll start with a ride tomorrow.

Well now that's out of the way! I will report on here to keep honest; the first two weeks are always the hardest.

Today we went up to Cooke Canyon to go hunting. It was snowing a little at the beginning, but not very much wind (luckily). I hadn't gone in quite a while, so it was great to watch the dogs and get some newer pictures.

Here is Dutch on point:

And Coltrane honoring Dutch's point:

It's amazing how great these dogs are at their jobs, and how much they love doing it.

While I'm posting pictures, I suppose I might as well post one of my new wheels.

Yes, that is a dog leash hanging from a hook on the ceiling serving as a bike stand so we could adjust the derailleurs more easily; MacGyvered by my resourceful husband.

The prompt generator today yielded: "What have you accomplished in the past five years?" This seemed like a great list to make, so despite this turning into a very long entry, I'm going to continue.

2004

I graduated high school with honors and secretly credited part of my good friend Jonathan's Valedictorianship to myself and my invaluable peer-to-peer skills. Soon after, I took a deep breath and moved across the US to go to school in New Orleans. I didn't know a soul and it was one of the most exciting/scared times I've ever encountered.

2005

I completed my first year of college and my first triathlon. I met my husband-to-be and had one of the best summers of my life. I later "survived Katrina" and moved to yet another strange city (Tacoma) to wait out the evacuation. I rented a recently flooded apartment over Craigslist with no pictures, and moved back to New Orleans, this time with my future-husband in tow.

2006

This year is dark and blurry, and I usually try to forget everything about it. There were some strong and important accomplishments, though. After a painful period of confusion and depression, I severed nearly all ties with my father. I saw through the crushing web of lies and manipulations (not without strenuous help from Travis), and relit my life with hope and determination. I learned how to survive, and began to learn how to thrive. It's almost like there is a hole in my memory for most of this year. It's dismal and painful and I no longer dwell there.

2007

This was a powerful year in my life. I made difficult decisions. I took a formidable stand to eradicate anything my father could hold over my head. I had clarity and was not sucked in to his manipulations. Amidst violent threats, accusations, and berating, I succeeded in my own vindication: the $75,000 (and rapidly growing with interest) that he stole from me was repaid and I was free. I decided to move back to Washington in spite of an intense fear of the recognition of my "failure" and it was one of the best decisions I had ever made. I stopped drinking unhealthily. I began to lose my faith in religion, but strengthened my faith in God and my own spiritual health. I got engaged and got my first dog.

2008

I thrived in my new surroundings and made fantastic contributions to the community and to the Public Health field. I dealt with the painful death of my puppy. I got a new dog that I love unconditionally. I got married. I earned a place in honor societies and Dean's lists. I found balance.

2009

This year is very young and I have yet to gain very much perspective. I guess my accomplishments thus far would be maintaining balance and happiness. I feel like one of the luckiest people in the world with an (almost) perfect husband, dog, and life. My goals for the rest of this year: get great grades, perform outstandingly well on the MCAT, get into my top medical schools, take away meaningful experience from my internship.

For the second night in a row, I feel crappy. During the day, I'm fine. As the late evening wears on, I feel like I'm catching a bug, then in the morning I'm good. I don't know what the issue is here, but I'm over it. Usually I am pretty tuned into my body and I know when I'm pushing too hard or not enough, but these past couple of days I've just felt out of whack. I will figure out the culprit soon...

Not much to report today. Maybe when I'm feeling better I'll be able to manage a little more eloquence and elaboration. The bike is feeling good. I think I'm a couple more adjustments away from perfection.

The bike is here...this post is a little spec-y

Spring break is finally here and it's been cloudy and windy all four days. My bicycle finally got here yesterday and it is beautiful: carbon fiber seat stays, carbon fiber handlebars and stem, titanium axle rods, titanium water bottle cages, carbon fiber seat post, titanium saddle rails, crazy light Ritchey WCS Protocol LTD wheels, and full Ultegra components. I was so excited to get it, and when it arrived Monday afternoon, we immediately began assembly. Now, I'm a little hesitant. There is something about being relatively unknowledgeable about bike assembly, then building your own from the ground up to hop on and ride at 35+ mph that is a little unnerving, so I haven't really let her rip yet. Add to that the fact that I lost my helmet last year, and you may begin to understand my reluctance.

Tomorrow, we're planning on going over to Yakima and riding the greenway so I'll have a support crew in case anything should suddenly fall off. For a quick ride tonight, a book I requested from the library has been returned so I'm going to hop on the bike and pick it up. More on that later...

As for my recent decision to slim down my internet consumption, I have been moderately successful. I've stuck to my guns with myspace and facebook, but I've slipped a little with livejournal...Janelle just keeps me coming back for more! There are comments to make and replies to respond to. It's been tough doing this so close to spring break, but I've been reading more and now that the weather is getting nice, going outside more often.

That's about all I have to report. For dinner tonight, I made rice, an asparagus and radish salad with a lemon/cumin/vinaigrette, and lump crab with red pepper, scallion, celery, asparagus, lemon, and yogurt broiled on top of english muffin halves. Mmmm.

Spring is here!

Ahh the first day of spring and spring break. It feels superb, and a little strange at the same time. I have a giant sense of relief, but also a nagging empty spot where all my scholastical responsibilities and their disapproving eyes once rested.

I usually take a day or so to relax, then wonder what I am going to do with my time. But this time, I know. I have a stack of books waiting to be read: The Adventures of Augie March, ChiRunning, A People's History of the United States, Anatomy of the Spirit; a rockin bicycle currently en-route from Tucson, and an obscenely grimy kitchen that is on the verge of being positively vomititious. And with a forecast with highs in the 50's-60's, a vacation couldn't be more splendidly timed.

Happy spring/spring break, one and all! I don't know about you, but if I play my cards right, I might get taken out to dinner tonight...

Connectivity

It's been about 2 hours since I woke up this morning, and I have accomplished very little studying. "Well why not?" you may ask, and I would tell you that I was just doing stuff on the internet. This led me to the question, are we too connected? Am I?

I Facebook, Myspace, Tweet, Blog, LiveJournal, read 3 RSS feeds, E-mail, Blackboard, Paperbackswap, and accent with a little Stumbling. Most of these things wouldn't even have been considered verbs a couple of years ago, but now I'm pretty sure even "Facebooking" is a real word. But here it is, eight o'clock, and I haven't even finished with my list of connectivity-to-do's! Now, I have taken a break to study, but shouldn't it be the other way around? This internet fluff is starting to grow from what you find on the end of a Q-tip, to a cotton ball, and now it's almost the size of one of those body pillows that everyone used to have. I think it's time for me to cut back; go on an Internet diet.

I'll start with Myspace because there's not a whole lot of interesting stuff on there anyway. Myspace is cut down to once a week. Even typing that makes me cringe a little. Can I do that? Once a week? Yes, I can. Stumbling can also go to once a week, most likely on a weekend. Facebook? That is a tough one. I think I'd better start with once a day. Same for Paperbackswap. I already do the RSS feeds just once a day and I think that is ok. LiveJournal and Blogger I think I will stick to twice a day for now. Twitter, ummm...Let's leave Twitter alone for now. You don't want to do too much too fast, you know? Heh. E-mail and Blackboard are pretty important, so I don't think that I will put caps on those.

I know that still seems like a lot, but it is a big step for me. I really don't know how often I check each of these per day, but trust me, it's a lot. I guess I feel like I'm wasting big chunks of time on things that really aren't important, meaningful, or informational. A few of them are, but not Facebook. Not Myspace. So I will commit to taking that time and focusing it on something more useful: studying, playing with my dog, having a conversation, taking some pictures, practicing the piano, doing more yoga, going for a longer run.

I'll keep you posted on how this turns out...only once a day, of course.

The number one fear...

In Public Health classes, you can count on at least one presentation during the quarter. My most recent presentation was with a group, and one of the girls expressed how habitually terrified she was of speaking in public. She asked how I handled speaking in public so often and so calmly, and I realized that now I actually am pretty calm when it comes to public speaking.

This wasn't always the case; I stammered at the speed of light, and paused only to punctuate with an "um" or "uh." Add in the glazed eyes of an audience of peers and I was a rambling machine. Now, I've figured it out. Not to say that I have it down to an art, but I've at least figured out the science.

1. Breathe. This is especially effective before the speech/presentation. A series of ten deep, meaningful breaths can quiet those last minute jitters. It also counts while you're speaking; remember to breathe and the words will flow naturally.

2. Ooze confidence. Other than being prepared (see below), the best trick for confidence is emulation. Identify someone that you think is enormously confident, and adopt their mannerisms. My confidence muse: Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada. She is deliciously evil, but walks and speaks as though she owns the world. I channel her, and immediately my posture improves and I settle into a calm.

3. Only preach what you know. If you don't know the topic inside and backwards, the nerves are amplified. Be prepared and solid in your knowledge foundation and let the confidence ooze.

4. Slow it down. One of my greatest pitfalls that one I still stumble into: people look bored so I amp up the speed. Wrong. Keep it slow, pick non-awkward places to pause, and let them reflect. The faster you talk, the faster the audience will tune out.

5. Add on the anecdotes. People perk up when they hear a good story, so toss one in (that's relevant) every once in a while. To make this easier, remember that it doesn't always have to be the whole truth. The greatest storytellers mix in a hint of believable embellishment.

6. Maintain eye contact, but don't stare. I think about 2 seconds of eye contact per person is great before scanning on to the next. Avoid looking down, the audience will think you're either unknowledgeable or lying (see number five).

7. Dress awesome. It will help your credibility, your confidence, and your performance; invest in quality, fashionable style. Put in as much or more effort as you would on a date, but with less cleavage.

8. Practice. In the mirror, in front of friends, or in front of the camera; it's invaluable. Don't be afraid to change something if you don't think it's working.

Overall, just make your nerves work for you. The best way to do that is to come prepared. I've seen the bad presentations and those are motivation enough to put in a little extra effort.

Errg.

I've stressed myself out a little bit. The time to apply to Med School is drawing near. I'm registering for the MCAT and putting together application materials. Three big things make this difficult: no cheery high school counselor to hold my hand through this one, MCAT costs $250, application costs $150 plus $30 for each additional school, and an intense fear of failure. Acceptance rates for most medical schools are less than 10%. That means 90% of people who apply are rejected. Shot down. Given the boot. Kicked to the curb. Fail. That's a scary prospect. I've set myself up to do as well as I could in school here, and now that the deadline is approaching, I'm terrified that I have not done nearly enough. Maybe if I make a list I'll feel better.

Started one club as an officer, member of three others. Member of professional public health associations. Majoring in a less-common field. Volunteer Red Cross instructor. Website design experience for public health. Going to do an internship this summer in a clinical setting. Good grades (this time around).

I'm afraid of my Tulane grades holding me down. Maybe I should find somewhere else to volunteer. I think there is a free clinic that comes to Eburg every other weekend...

I've been pretty good at keeping the "what ifs" at bay, but facing the imminent end of the road of preparation has me a little panicked and it's getting harder and harder to shut those daunting acceptance rates out of my mind. Maybe that's a good thing and it's fuel for my motivation to keep pushing hard in this last stretch.

There are an awful lot of maybes in this post, if that gives you any extra insight to how I'm feeling. Eeerrrrg.

Phobe.

Everyone has their own little quirks: likes and dislikes, favorites, fears, and habits. Like a mom would say, those differences are what make you special and make the world go 'round. Yeah ok mom.

One thing I am particularly embarrassed about (besides the difficulty I have spelling the word "embarrassed") is my little touch of claustrophobia. It's embarrassing because it's irrational and I consider myself a pretty rational person. So sitting here, rationally and decisively typing on my proven MacBook, I can recognize that it is silly for my heart to race and palms to sweat as I eerily prophesy the imminent collapse of that way-too-close-to-covering-my-whole-head blanket leading to my terrifying suffocation and likely death all in about 9 seconds. Yes, I sit here and exclaim the ludicrousness of these whims, but in the situation where the confines are far too close, those whims evolve into distinctively real, lugubrious possibilities; the only rational thing to do is to be afraid! My mind shrieks: "You dummy! If you don't untangle yourself from this mess you and I will both surely be squished to death!" And who am I to ignore such a sinister threat? As rapidly as possible, I extract myself from the "situation." It's the only reasonable thing to do.

So what portentous premonitions do other otherwise rational minds concoct? I certainly do not want to imagine lest I get any foreboding ideas.

I guess I'm now a decaf-er

For some reason, I don't handle coffee in my system like I used to. It seems like all of a sudden my normal 12 oz latte makes me feel shaky, squirmy, and overall uncomfortable. What a shame, too! I love coffee so much, so I'm making the switch to decaf.

So today I went to the best coffee shop I have discovered thus far in my everlasting quest for coffeehouse perfection: Pioneer Coffee in Cle Elum. The only things that are wrong: it's not within walking distance and the pastry selection is both limited and lackluster. However, I suppose if I can't walk there I probably don't need a case of patisserie temptation beckoning seductively. Anyway, the coffee is great, the seating and atmosphere is a mixture of cozy and sophisticated, the baristas are sweet and knowledgeable, and they sell wine!

All in all it's been a lovely day...except it snowed again and the NY Times crossword seems unreasonably difficult.

The End-of-Winter Itch

I haven't been very inspired to write about much of anything lately. The things that get me really fired up (banning guns so Mexican drug cartels won't get them from us, Uggo Chris Gregoire, whiny pregnant people who believe pregnancy and the ensuing "stay-at-home-mom" title are the penultimate and ultimate goals in life and everyone else is pathetically missing out) are too exhausting and useless to dwell upon, and the daily occurrences in my life seem to be direct replicas of the everyday mundane from the day before. I'm not complaining too much about the lack of variety in my life; smooth sailing is a much better alliterative cliche than stormy seas.

I'm really itching for a little more warmth so I can get back to running and biking. The training and control over my body feels so freeing; not to mention the five plus pounds of winter insulation I need to shrug off. One week of Wii Fit later and I'm still hovering at a despicable 129. Not that I've actually been doing anything to try to lose weight. Heh. Wii Fit doesn't lie.

Further, after a few months adjusting to the mini-house, I'm starting to feel cooped up; I need alone time and there's rarely any solitude to be found in this house except maybe in the shower. And even then my dog noses the door open and pokes his head in just to see what I'm up to. A little sweet, a little weird, a little annoying.

Anyway. Just 50-60 degrees outside is all I need. Please?

Mona Lisa Smile

I watched one of my favorite movies last night: Mona Lisa Smile.  It had been a few years since I last watched it, and it was almost bittersweet because the last time I watched, I was living a parallel life with the characters.  I was enveloped with female companionship, supported and loved by more than a handful of good friends.  But I no longer live in that warm world of sisterhood.  

This isn't to say that I'm more unhappy, it's quite the opposite.  I'm happier than ever to be married to my best friend and delighted with my life overall; there is just a piece missing that puts me somewhat out of balance.  I miss my old girlfriends, wish they could still be a significant part of my life, and worry that I won't be able to find that special camaraderie again. 

Holidays

Generally, I'm a big fan of holidays.  Any reason to celebrate something, get a day off work/school, give/get a gift, and just break out of the everyday mundane is ok with me.  I love Christmas and love all the commercialization that now comes along with it.  Fourth of July, great.  Easter, sure.  There are just two major holidays that I have a hard time getting on board with: Thanksgiving and Valentines day.

Thanksgiving just really steps on the toes of Christmas.  For some reason everyone makes turkey and green bean casserole, neither of which I really enjoy, and it really is just too much family in one season.  No one talks about what they're thankful for anymore, or really recognizes the whole significance of the day other than the aforementioned foodstuffs.  I think Thanksgiving is on its way out.  If I had the means, I would certainly be skipping out to go to Fiji or the Galapagos for a few day.  Catch ya in a few weeks, multitudes of family.

I've never liked Valentines day.  And not because I was a bitter singleton, really I've had my pick of dates for nearly as long as I can remember for this pink and red heart-filled day.  The expectations are simply too high.  Every girl wants chocolate and a tacky heart necklace accompanied by a squeaky clean man and a nice dinner.  I don't really like chocolate, I hate heart necklaces (especially the gold ones), and I'll take a nice dinner when two-thirds of the population isn't also vying for a reservation at this place or that one.  So this day will pass by like any other, and my wallet will be fuller as my stress will be lesser.

Pet Peeves

Everyone has their own little twinge of irritation at something or another.  Mine is simple and sometimes excruciating.  There are a few words (three big ones come to mind) that an exceedingly loud portion of the population either misuse or have completely made up: "expecially; expresso; and supposably."  

Just typing those words grates against my ears.  Expecially and expresso are simply not words and whoever uses them slips down the mountain of intelligence a few steps.   More than a few if they happen to be a teacher.  

I think that some people believe that the words "supposedly" and "probably" had a torrid affair and created "supposably" which supposedly means the same thing.  They didn't and it doesn't.  

Maybe if people read more books and watched less American Top Survivor they would get it.

A little lift

Last week I wrote from the prompt: What 10 things are you pessimistic about?  It was a very troublesome topic to write on, and this has been somewhat of a rough week, so I decided to vamp on the antithesis.  So (in no particular order) here are ten things...

I'm optimistic about

10. Succeeding

9.  My marriage

8.  Actively growing

7.  Maintaining balance

6.  Living as a positive light to others

5.  Humanity

4.  Adversity

3.  Capacity for change

2.  Spiritual fulfillment

1.  Tomorrow

What things in life sustain you spiritually?

Spirituality is something I can get on board with.  My experience with religion has not been great, and come to think of it, the world's experience with religion has probably been even worse.  But spirituality travels far deeper.  So many things nourish the spirit every day if you stop to acknowledge them.  A beautiful day, a hug, a deep breath, running, music (both listened to and played), sex, a fresh cookie.  

For me, skiing is a meaningful experience that leaves me more invigorated than the soundest night's sleep.  All of my senses are heightened.  My minimally exposed skin tingles and stings with the cold air.  The snow, trees, and mountains are all serenely and perfectly elegant, and while I am intensely focused on the nuances of the trails: the dips, the crests, the textures, the best path; my entire body flexes and responds in perfect concert with the track of my eyes.  (Usually.)  The speed is thrilling and the delicacy of floating on powder is soothing.  It is zen wrapped up in a mountain and if I could I would be there every day; a junkie for the high of physical, mental, and spiritual acuity amidst freezing tranquility.

Ten Things...

I'm Pessimistic About

(in no particular order)

10. World Peace

9.  Religion

8.  My father

7.  Honesty in Landlords

6.  Pessimism

5.  Public Education

4.  Overuse of Antidepressants

3.  Morbid Obesity in America

2.  Unwieldy Government

1.  Losing Weight

That was a tough list for me to write.  In general, I tend to look on the sunny side of things; an optimist by nature.  Winston Churchill once said: "A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty."  What a truth.  You're only as defeated as you're willing to defeat yourself.  

 I found myself to be the most pessimistic about issues beyond my very limited grasp of control.  As a general rule, I shrug off the things that I can't control, but there are some issues (like other people and their ill-considered misdeeds) that give your thoughts a second twinge and seduce you into languishing and brooding.

Then there are the personal pessimisms.  The things that you do have control over, but don't exercise that control.  These aren't seductive whispers, these are the lugubrious raspings of Self-Defeat Personified.  The ones you don't want to acknowledge, but inevitably and inexorably face with an averted glance at the end of a hard day.  It could be a sneaked cig, an extra two (or eight) cookies, a missed workout and then another and another missed workout, or an addiction that just can't be broken no matter how dangerous it is.  These are the slippery, tricky issues that Optimism can't seem to get a solid grasp around.  While we'd like to have them chained and gagged somewhere farther than the back of our minds, there they lurk, waiting to slither out in a time of weakness.  All I can do is add more positive thinking out of my salt shaker of optimism and have high hopes for tomorrow.

Back away from the milk.

Apparently, milk causes osteoporosis and cancer now.  Really?  Really.  See www.milksucks.com if you don't believe me.  Apart from the neutral name and even more neutral sponsor (cough...PETA), they have damning evidence that this is, in fact, true: the countries that drink the most milk have more incidences of osteoporosis than those who drink very little milk.  The top milk-imbibers: Finland, Sweeden, America, Canada, and others.  The low milk-drinkers?  Ghana, the Congo, Rwanda.  Huh.  It must be milk that is causing this age-related disease, not age!  The average lifespan of a Swede is around 72 years, while the average lifespan of a Rwandan is around 40 years.  Milk is clearly the culprit.

Drink up.

Dark house

Dark house, by which once more I stand

Here in the long unlovely street,

Doors, where my heart was used to beat

So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasped no more--

Behold me, for I cannot sleep,

And like a guilty thing creep

At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here; but far away

The noise of life begins again,

And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain

On the bald street breaks the blank day.

-Lord Tennyson

My first thought is that my lackluster cousin and his even less lustrous wife are naming their child Tennyson, assuredly with no thought to precision meter, delicate assonance, alliteration, and other literary nuances, or even to a bleak future of inevitable beatings from schoolmates.   Will they call him Tenny for short?  Poor child.  Still just a fetus and already emasculated.

To the poem, though.  For me, suffering a loss yields a suffocating quiet.  The world is no longer colors and textures splashing and singing.  It is a muted scale of gray blurred around the edges; expressionless and blank, like Grief drank the feeling out the day and left only drops of numbness.  

I am functional, deliberate, effective.  I watch and hear others feel freely, but I cannot.  I'm stuck in a world of empty and fill it, and fill it, and fill it until there is nothing left to fill with.  And then it's real.  The richness of emotion that surges intensely and spirals forward is a savory, painful island in the middle of the gray, gray ocean where I was lost, forgetting how to feel.

Suffering never feels so sacred as that relieving moment when it erupts out of emotional paralysis.

Number one

Ok, I'm doing it.  I've twiddled the idea in the back of my mind for a solid month now, and I'm ready to commit to the first plunge.  I'm giving blogging another shot.  I may have less than regular posting habits, but it's a start.  Livejournal has a prompting community and I'll probably use that to create a writing habit, at least at first.  I used to use livejournal, but blogger is set up much more intuitively.  I may cross back over; we'll have to see.  So prompt number one is this photo:

To find joy in the mundane and everyday is to know how to live in happiness.  It's not easy to do, but it's worth every effort.  Susan (we'll say the lovely leaping lady is named Susan) probably knows many of the secrets of life: vibrantly colored underwear give you uncannily super-hero-like abilities; fears are opportunities for growth; and sometimes all you need is a broom (guitar) or a loofah (microphone) to put the world right again.  I know those to be solemnly truthful facts, all of which involve shaking loose your inhibitions and embracing what is personally meaningful.

Emerson once said, "Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense."  

If today didn't work out so well, there is always tomorrow.