I kinda expected the cravings. I didn't figure it'd be for fruits, vegtables, and chicken though. I didn't expect the food aversions, but it's not as bad as it could be. I suppose it would have been alot worse if it was to pasta - one of my absolute most favorite foods!
It's been a bit complicated because of that whole appendicitus thing back in January. Now, I'm not sure if the muscle discomfort I feel in my abdomen is because I'm still healing up from that mess or my body adjusting to my growing uterus. I think, however, that I have started to feel the baby move inside me. I am not sure if the quick moments of queasiness that are gone in a few seconds are because of that or the suspected lactose intolerance. I thought it was going to be a little while before my hips started to bug me when I was walking around. I guess I was wrong.
Oddly enough, while many women panic about if they're too fat or looking fat when they're pregnant, I haven't had that concern at all. I think I can honestly say that I haven't ever felt better about my apperance then I do now. I'm not sure what's changed about it all, but suddenly I don't feel horrible looking in the mirror. I'm going to keep that whole thing fixed in my mind for when the pregancy thing is done. It is my hope that I will keep this healthy and happy/accepting outlook after I have the baby and the belly goes away.
The only thing that is a concern for me right now is finding a decent doctor. The doctor that I have been seeing... well, she's ok. Or at least, ok until I got pregnant. Last I checked, women who are pregnant are supposed to ask questions and find out about what they can do to take care of their health, if anything for the sake of the baby's well being. So what do I have to deal with, OB/GYN practitioners (as I've seen the others in this office) that get snippy with me for asking questions. I'm not going so far as questioning what their GPA at med. school was or anything else like that. I'm asking about what foods I can and can't have; what over the counter medicines are and are not safe; what kind of exercizing I can do; and many other related things.
You know, the usual concerns of pregnant women. The response I have gotten is one woman walking out of the office after I asked 3 questions and another complaining "I feel like I'm being interviewed." right to my face. Maeby I'm an unusual patient, because I want to take an active part in my care and do everything I can to ensure my and my baby's well being. I highly doubt it. Last I checked, alot of women feel the same way I do and haven't gotten attitude from their OB/GYNs for expecting them to work with them. I also don't think there's anything wrong with being indignant. I'm paying these people good money, earned by the sweat and blood of myself and my husband, for them to help me maintain my health, not look down their noses at me and treat me like just another ignorant hick.
I may be a country kid, but that doesn't make me dumb. I really hate it when people treat me like that. And this OB/GYN practice has been seeing me since when I lived out on the farm, so they know I'm from the country. They should also remember that I have an ivy league degree... but I guess they think I got that out of a Cracker Jack box. ... Ok, I'm not going to make more derisive and bitter comments.
To say the least, I got a recommendation from my general practitioner (a real nice guy who happens to be quite reasonable and smart) for another OB/GYN. Here's hoping that I can get into there and not have to deal with the rest of this horse crap.
roses
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Saturday, February 10, 2007
A few thoughts for today...
Last night, I learned something that only sank in this morning. It has me deeply disturbed and I honestly don't know what to do about it. So, I decided to do the only thing that made sense to me, write down my thoughts in the hapless (and hopeless) attempt to process what has me so troubled.
My youngest brother, the one who was in the US Marine Corps until last year, is going back into war. He joined the Army Reserve with the goal of getting money to go to college and to remain stateside long enough to get a degree before being rotated to Europe or somewhere else relatively safe. I remember my mother and his wife begging him not to join the Army Reserve. My brother felt that it was the only thing he could do since he finished his tour with the Marines. He felt that civillian life was ... not beneath him, but not suited for him.
Now, I learn that I still need to worry about my 'little' brother coming home in a body bag. God help his wife. She's got two daughters (ages 3 and 4) who are just now coming to know their father. Their baby boy is going to be born this summer. And now, she'll have to raise their children alone again, quite possibly alone for the rest of her life.
It makes me want to cry. I want to sit here and weep bitterly. I thanked every god that possibly could have had some kind of hand in bringing my brother home safely when he finished his time in the Marines. He had a hell of a time in there. Because my brother is basically a decent man (despite his bravado and his efforts to be a complete ass to everyone around him) he was passed up for advancement in rank, harassed by his superior officers, and generally didn't recieve recognition for his efforts. I realize, to many people, this sounds like the whining of some one who is ticked off that they didn't get that promotion they were hoping for that quite possibly happened for legitimate reasons.
If you assume that, then you assume that my brother is a liar. And, quite frankly, my brother may be a complete jerk at times, but one thing he most definately is not is a liar. When confronted with his drinking problem, he owned it. When confronted about other problems he had in the past and in the present, he owns them. Sometimes, he doesn't see the problems as problems and is quite proud of them. Other times, he will bluster with bravado that he's fine and the confess in some intimate setting to one of the few souls he trusts the fear and consternation he feels over the issue in question. Either way, my brother does not lie.
If you think such things of a man before you even know him, you should look into your own heart. You should look into your own heart and ask a very direct question: why do I assume that this person is a liar? I'll also add one other thing, quite frankly, people who assume all others are liars are often liars themselves. I'll leave that point aside, as I don't want to digress into what could turn into a tirade of potential personal attacks upon you, my Reader.
...
I ... I am at a loss for words right now. Grief that is far too deep to measure sits in my heart right now. Horror that can not be contained in words vies with such rage that I still can not voice it. Some may wonder why I feel rage at what was, after all, my brother's decision to return to the military. My rage is not directed at my brother. My rage is directed at the blindness of our leadership in this nation. My rage is directed at the leadership of our nation's military. My rage is directed at the complacent attitudes of my fellow citizens.
This war is a meat grinder. We are sending 18 year old boys into it and expecting them to lay their lives down for the propigation of a lie. What is this lie? The lie is that they are defending the United States and it's Constitution in this military action. If they are defending our homeland, show me the enemy who is waiting at the gates? Prove to me the validity of this war and why I should be willing to sacrifice my brother, my friends, my neighbors, and my students to it's cause. Prove to me why, if there is a draft, I should be willing to sacrifice my husband, the father of my child and provider of my household? Why should I be willing to sacrifice these people?
Because the President says so? Because "reliable intelligence" indicates that some nebulous enemy halfway around the world is collaborating with a nation that we have tense relations with to do bad things to our country, though we don't know what those bad things are? Because it's the beginning of an Election cycle and we need to show our strength and unity to the world in this war effort?
Please, give me a real reason. I can come up with several miles worth of reaons that are like the ones I listed above. Al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden have been inflated to the point of being great boogeymen used by the propaganda machine to terrorize us when when begin to rouse from the stupor induced by the media. Name the last time you had to worry about some one blowing up the bus your children rode to school. Name the last time you had to question if the municipal water supply was safe enough to drink or if your groceries had been coated with some biochemical weapon prior to arrival at the store or distributor. Describe to me your fear that these great monsters is going to come and ruin your life or those of your neighbors.
September 11, 2001 and the events that unfolded that day was not another Pearl Harbor. The sooner this nation wakes up and realizes it, the better. So many people are doing their damndest to turn it into one. And we wonder why that fell flat. People recognize we weren't attacked by another nation. So, we can't rally behind the tragic events of that day and up hold them as the reason why we are at war. Instead, this war relies on the apathy and miniscule attention span of a great nation that has been reducecd to an ignorant, self-centered and apathetic population controlled by war-mongering imperialistic facists. Yet the pundits, talking heads of the media, town fathers, and common man all wonder what the hell is wrong with this nation?
We're being controlled by fear. The same fear that makes you turn off the evening news because you don't want to see the slight glimpse of bodies and wonder if it's your brother/son/uncle/father/lover/friend/neighbor lying in the street, that same damn fear is exploited everyday. And *you* think that there's nothing wrong with it! Subtle suggestions that al-Qaeda is waiting to jump upon our nation, ravage her, and leave her for dead is hinted at all around us. Everything from the terror alert system to the increased "security measures" in our airports spreads that subtle suggestion that we need the government to protect us from the boogeyman.
We surrender our rights to this government as a result of this subtle, pervasive fear. And if you think that is a good thing, you have succumbed to the brainwashing that has been operating in this nation for the past twenty to thirty years. How many of your rights can you even name? Do you even know why things like the right to own and bear arms is written into the foundational documents of our nation? Do you know what the Declaration of Independence is and why it is one of the most dangerous documents in history? I can tell you that the vast majority of the children graduating from highschool can't confidently answer those questions. I can state with a very high degree of confidence that a very large percentage of our population can't answer these questions either.
Why? Because we have been taught that these things are a part of the past, and it's not that important. Today and the things that we are dealing with today is important. The fear that I mentioned earlier, it's not just affecting adults. I've had 15 year old boys telling me that al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden are the biggest threat to the United States today and that they are afraid of what they can do to us. I have had children who weren't even alive when the events of Sept. 11th 2001 unfolded express to me their fear that al-Qaeda was going to come kill their parents and themselves. Television shows like Jericho and 24 are fiction, but people fear that these events will happen. People see these things and become afraid.
As a result of their fear, they flail around for some way to assuage it and reduce it to manageable proportions. Some go into denial (actually very many do this) and steep their consciousness in the sensationalized detrius of reality television, shows like Desperate Housewives, or something equal part banality and offensiveness. Some surrender everything they can for the greater good, hoping that their efforts and sacrifice will be rewarded with protection and safety. This surrender is not a bad thing, if done in moderation. But, when you are ignorant about why you have your rights and just what the hell they mean, you can be taken advantage of.
The government, friends, is always seeking more power. It is a self-perpetuating monster. It feeds upon gaining power and keeping it. The closer we move to a totalitarian state (and we are, don't be fooled!) the more power the federal government has and the longer it can perpetuate itself. It does not serve the interests of the citizen. It serves it's own interest of self perpetuation. This may sound like the words of a jaded cynic, some one that could be declared as 'hating America'. They're not. They are the words of a student of history and a person who has a keen understanding of just what the hell government's proper function is supposed to be.
Now, you may be wondering what all of this ranting about the government, al-Qaeda, and how the nation's populace at large has lost their collective spine and independent thought processes is related to my brother's going back into war. It's simple. It is so simple that it is painful.
This war is founded upon a lie. That lie is that al-Qaeda is a threat to the United States and the Consitution, as are all nations theoretically aligned with it. Al-Qaeda is a pack of morons who want to blow up the United States, yes. But they are a fairly small pack of morons who have the power of a schoolyard bully. We have no evidence of nations aligned with al-Qaeda with the exception of Afghanistan (an assertation which I have questioned from the beginning). We are sending young men and women into be brutalized by the horrors of a war comprible to the battle of Iwo Jima on a national scale.
When these warriors return home, their sacrifices are ignored. Their long standing pain and horror from being in combat and having their clothes soaked in the blood and brains of their dearest friends is ignored. So, they feel that they have no place in civilian life and return to the meat grinder of an unjust and illegal war. If they dare to oppose this war, they recieve punishment, not support. They are scorned. It is right and just for each and every member of the United States armed forces to stand up and oppose this war. Each person from the newest recruit to the top brass has a duty to do so. But the machine of the government that is present today works actively through intimidation, lies, and simmilar forms of bastardry to force the military into a state of subjugation. And it is working on doing the exact same thing to the rest of the nation.
So, I sit here, questioning if I should be drafting up what I will say at my brother's funeral. Grieving for a man who is not yet dead because he has been given a death sentance of a game of Russian Roulette on the largest scale. And I know, in my deepest of hearts, that I will be named a traitor by so many people for saying that this is wrong. I, the descendant of Revolutionary war heros, will be named an ideological traitor and an apologist for "the Enemy" for standing up against the rising tyranny in my homeland.
The immigrants in my family came here from Germany shortly before World War II to escape this. My Great-great grandfather came here to build a new life in liberty. His descendants were to live in freedom.
Where is that freedom now?
My youngest brother, the one who was in the US Marine Corps until last year, is going back into war. He joined the Army Reserve with the goal of getting money to go to college and to remain stateside long enough to get a degree before being rotated to Europe or somewhere else relatively safe. I remember my mother and his wife begging him not to join the Army Reserve. My brother felt that it was the only thing he could do since he finished his tour with the Marines. He felt that civillian life was ... not beneath him, but not suited for him.
Now, I learn that I still need to worry about my 'little' brother coming home in a body bag. God help his wife. She's got two daughters (ages 3 and 4) who are just now coming to know their father. Their baby boy is going to be born this summer. And now, she'll have to raise their children alone again, quite possibly alone for the rest of her life.
It makes me want to cry. I want to sit here and weep bitterly. I thanked every god that possibly could have had some kind of hand in bringing my brother home safely when he finished his time in the Marines. He had a hell of a time in there. Because my brother is basically a decent man (despite his bravado and his efforts to be a complete ass to everyone around him) he was passed up for advancement in rank, harassed by his superior officers, and generally didn't recieve recognition for his efforts. I realize, to many people, this sounds like the whining of some one who is ticked off that they didn't get that promotion they were hoping for that quite possibly happened for legitimate reasons.
If you assume that, then you assume that my brother is a liar. And, quite frankly, my brother may be a complete jerk at times, but one thing he most definately is not is a liar. When confronted with his drinking problem, he owned it. When confronted about other problems he had in the past and in the present, he owns them. Sometimes, he doesn't see the problems as problems and is quite proud of them. Other times, he will bluster with bravado that he's fine and the confess in some intimate setting to one of the few souls he trusts the fear and consternation he feels over the issue in question. Either way, my brother does not lie.
If you think such things of a man before you even know him, you should look into your own heart. You should look into your own heart and ask a very direct question: why do I assume that this person is a liar? I'll also add one other thing, quite frankly, people who assume all others are liars are often liars themselves. I'll leave that point aside, as I don't want to digress into what could turn into a tirade of potential personal attacks upon you, my Reader.
...
I ... I am at a loss for words right now. Grief that is far too deep to measure sits in my heart right now. Horror that can not be contained in words vies with such rage that I still can not voice it. Some may wonder why I feel rage at what was, after all, my brother's decision to return to the military. My rage is not directed at my brother. My rage is directed at the blindness of our leadership in this nation. My rage is directed at the leadership of our nation's military. My rage is directed at the complacent attitudes of my fellow citizens.
This war is a meat grinder. We are sending 18 year old boys into it and expecting them to lay their lives down for the propigation of a lie. What is this lie? The lie is that they are defending the United States and it's Constitution in this military action. If they are defending our homeland, show me the enemy who is waiting at the gates? Prove to me the validity of this war and why I should be willing to sacrifice my brother, my friends, my neighbors, and my students to it's cause. Prove to me why, if there is a draft, I should be willing to sacrifice my husband, the father of my child and provider of my household? Why should I be willing to sacrifice these people?
Because the President says so? Because "reliable intelligence" indicates that some nebulous enemy halfway around the world is collaborating with a nation that we have tense relations with to do bad things to our country, though we don't know what those bad things are? Because it's the beginning of an Election cycle and we need to show our strength and unity to the world in this war effort?
Please, give me a real reason. I can come up with several miles worth of reaons that are like the ones I listed above. Al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden have been inflated to the point of being great boogeymen used by the propaganda machine to terrorize us when when begin to rouse from the stupor induced by the media. Name the last time you had to worry about some one blowing up the bus your children rode to school. Name the last time you had to question if the municipal water supply was safe enough to drink or if your groceries had been coated with some biochemical weapon prior to arrival at the store or distributor. Describe to me your fear that these great monsters is going to come and ruin your life or those of your neighbors.
September 11, 2001 and the events that unfolded that day was not another Pearl Harbor. The sooner this nation wakes up and realizes it, the better. So many people are doing their damndest to turn it into one. And we wonder why that fell flat. People recognize we weren't attacked by another nation. So, we can't rally behind the tragic events of that day and up hold them as the reason why we are at war. Instead, this war relies on the apathy and miniscule attention span of a great nation that has been reducecd to an ignorant, self-centered and apathetic population controlled by war-mongering imperialistic facists. Yet the pundits, talking heads of the media, town fathers, and common man all wonder what the hell is wrong with this nation?
We're being controlled by fear. The same fear that makes you turn off the evening news because you don't want to see the slight glimpse of bodies and wonder if it's your brother/son/uncle/father/lover/friend/neighbor lying in the street, that same damn fear is exploited everyday. And *you* think that there's nothing wrong with it! Subtle suggestions that al-Qaeda is waiting to jump upon our nation, ravage her, and leave her for dead is hinted at all around us. Everything from the terror alert system to the increased "security measures" in our airports spreads that subtle suggestion that we need the government to protect us from the boogeyman.
We surrender our rights to this government as a result of this subtle, pervasive fear. And if you think that is a good thing, you have succumbed to the brainwashing that has been operating in this nation for the past twenty to thirty years. How many of your rights can you even name? Do you even know why things like the right to own and bear arms is written into the foundational documents of our nation? Do you know what the Declaration of Independence is and why it is one of the most dangerous documents in history? I can tell you that the vast majority of the children graduating from highschool can't confidently answer those questions. I can state with a very high degree of confidence that a very large percentage of our population can't answer these questions either.
Why? Because we have been taught that these things are a part of the past, and it's not that important. Today and the things that we are dealing with today is important. The fear that I mentioned earlier, it's not just affecting adults. I've had 15 year old boys telling me that al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden are the biggest threat to the United States today and that they are afraid of what they can do to us. I have had children who weren't even alive when the events of Sept. 11th 2001 unfolded express to me their fear that al-Qaeda was going to come kill their parents and themselves. Television shows like Jericho and 24 are fiction, but people fear that these events will happen. People see these things and become afraid.
As a result of their fear, they flail around for some way to assuage it and reduce it to manageable proportions. Some go into denial (actually very many do this) and steep their consciousness in the sensationalized detrius of reality television, shows like Desperate Housewives, or something equal part banality and offensiveness. Some surrender everything they can for the greater good, hoping that their efforts and sacrifice will be rewarded with protection and safety. This surrender is not a bad thing, if done in moderation. But, when you are ignorant about why you have your rights and just what the hell they mean, you can be taken advantage of.
The government, friends, is always seeking more power. It is a self-perpetuating monster. It feeds upon gaining power and keeping it. The closer we move to a totalitarian state (and we are, don't be fooled!) the more power the federal government has and the longer it can perpetuate itself. It does not serve the interests of the citizen. It serves it's own interest of self perpetuation. This may sound like the words of a jaded cynic, some one that could be declared as 'hating America'. They're not. They are the words of a student of history and a person who has a keen understanding of just what the hell government's proper function is supposed to be.
Now, you may be wondering what all of this ranting about the government, al-Qaeda, and how the nation's populace at large has lost their collective spine and independent thought processes is related to my brother's going back into war. It's simple. It is so simple that it is painful.
This war is founded upon a lie. That lie is that al-Qaeda is a threat to the United States and the Consitution, as are all nations theoretically aligned with it. Al-Qaeda is a pack of morons who want to blow up the United States, yes. But they are a fairly small pack of morons who have the power of a schoolyard bully. We have no evidence of nations aligned with al-Qaeda with the exception of Afghanistan (an assertation which I have questioned from the beginning). We are sending young men and women into be brutalized by the horrors of a war comprible to the battle of Iwo Jima on a national scale.
When these warriors return home, their sacrifices are ignored. Their long standing pain and horror from being in combat and having their clothes soaked in the blood and brains of their dearest friends is ignored. So, they feel that they have no place in civilian life and return to the meat grinder of an unjust and illegal war. If they dare to oppose this war, they recieve punishment, not support. They are scorned. It is right and just for each and every member of the United States armed forces to stand up and oppose this war. Each person from the newest recruit to the top brass has a duty to do so. But the machine of the government that is present today works actively through intimidation, lies, and simmilar forms of bastardry to force the military into a state of subjugation. And it is working on doing the exact same thing to the rest of the nation.
So, I sit here, questioning if I should be drafting up what I will say at my brother's funeral. Grieving for a man who is not yet dead because he has been given a death sentance of a game of Russian Roulette on the largest scale. And I know, in my deepest of hearts, that I will be named a traitor by so many people for saying that this is wrong. I, the descendant of Revolutionary war heros, will be named an ideological traitor and an apologist for "the Enemy" for standing up against the rising tyranny in my homeland.
The immigrants in my family came here from Germany shortly before World War II to escape this. My Great-great grandfather came here to build a new life in liberty. His descendants were to live in freedom.
Where is that freedom now?
Saturday, February 03, 2007
killing braincells on the internet with drugs...
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
One of the reasons why I haven't been posting ...
Part of the problem is that I find I am quite tired at the end of the day. Several times over the last several weeks, I have been getting home from work at 3 pm and taking a nap until it's time to go get my darling husband from work. Then (if I'm not too tired) I'll make dinner and go to bed. While my sisters-in-law have told me that the first trimester of pregnancy is exhausting, I wasn't really feeling it until recently. Sure, I took some naps during last month, but not as many as I have been this month.
My sense of time is rather thrown off. Apart of me says that it is still January, while the calendar says that it is February. This confusion is not a result of the recent exhaustion. I wish it was. Last Tuesday, I think that was the 29th but it may have been the 28th of January, awoke at 2:30 am with a feeling like gas pains. This is a fairly familiar feeling to me by now because instead of having the fun of morning sickness, it has been gas. I tried to use all of the tricks I knew to make this worsening gas pain go away. Now, some folks may think that gas pains aren't that bad. I assure you, when I get gas pain, I fully empathise with the flatulent infants who wail at the tops of their lungs. I've had them so bad that I nearly vomited because of pain.
So, when I say that my gas pains are getting bad they're starting to approach the nauseating level of pain. Then the feeling of pain moved some. I assumed, as I experienced yet another burst of pressure release for the gas, that it was possibly constipation. By this time, it was almost 4 am. I was exhausted and in pain, to say the least the thing I wanted the most was to go to bed. That was to be wishful thinking as the pain got worse. At about 6:30, I acknowledged defeat to sleeplessness and called out of work. I also called my parents for some helpful home remedies for my stomach discomfort.
I never realized just how horribly disgusting baking soda was until I drank a teaspoon of it in a glass of water. While I know this works quite well for gas and helped to settle my upset stomach, it tasted revolting. It didn't help with the pain either. At 7:30 am, my husband woke up for work and found me doubled over on a chair in the kitchen. I didn't get the option of arguing with him when he decided that I needed to go to the doctor. I had digressed from grunting with discomfort at 2:30 am to almost constant mewling and sobbing with pain at the time we were at the doctor's office. I think we were there for 15 minutes before the doctor sent us up to the hospital emergency room.
The doctor said that there were three possible reasons why I was in such pain. My gall bladder, my appendix, or an ecoptic pregnancy. I went from not only being in white hot blinding pain but to terrified white hot blinding pain. To say the least, I was not an easy person to deal with. I refused, however, to be crying and screaming with pain in public. I reserved such emotional breakdowns for when I was alone with my husband. I'm amazed that I managed such a stoic demeanor, to be honest. I guess I truly am more stubborn then an old mule. As I was in the ER, the nurses got a little nervous because of my lack of crying out. It was obvious that I was incredible pain. I was gripping my husband's hand white knuckled, very taicturn in my responses to questions, and I had tears streaming down at times while I ground my teeth.
Some where in the midst of having 4 doctors and I think just as many interns interview and poke me, one of the presiding doctors proved the soul of mercy. I was given a dose of morphine and the pain which was making me see stars eased. I slept for a little while, though I don't remember how long. A brief time (or perhaps a moderately long time) I was transported to the Radiology department for an ultrasound. This produced one of the few good parts of this entire experience. The baby was shown to be in the correct position. My husband was with me, having a difficult time distinguishing what part of the fuzzy picture was our baby and being facinated with the computer. I was delighted to see the baby. Perhaps I had an easier time seeing the baby because I am more familiar with the pictures that I have seen of my womb and ovaries when I'm not pregnant. Being a woman who has a problem with poly-cystic ovaries, I'm quite familiar with the process of an ultrasound. I've come to find them more enjoyible then the general gynecologial exam. You don't get poked so much.
Anyways, his attention was caught when the image on the monitor moved. We were both delighted to watch as the baby moved. As they took more still pictures, hubby's interest was drawn back to the shiny object infront of him. It's cute how much of a gadget man he is. Then, they stunned him. They played the sound of the baby's heart beat. I don't know if words can describe the joy and wonder that was on his face once he understood what the sound was. I may have been heavily medicated, but I was still thrilled and the parts I remember, I remember clearly. I know somewhere around here, we have pictures. Perhaps I'll learn how to scan them and I'll post one up here for everyone to see.
Once the fact that the pregnancy was in the correct position and the baby was ok had been confirmed, I was sent off to more testing. I don't clearly remember that part. I know that I was stuck with needles and had blood tests. I've got some marks on my arms from that. I can't recall what else. Morphine does that to you. It was a blessing to actually sleep after being up so long and to feel less pain. Even though I was getting poked and prodded, I didn't mind quite so much. So, after an army of tests, I was pronounced as having appendicitis. Briefly, the possiblity was tossed around that I may have a kidney stone, but it was rejected quickly when the doctors learned that I have no history of kidney disease, kidney stones, or other urinary tract problems aside from the occasional bladder infection.
...
It's sad, but I'm now confused as to where I am in my 'saga' of suffering. They've got me on some intense pain medication right now. It makes it easy for me to get confused and a bit drowsy. I don't like being on pain medicines (or most other kind of medicines) but the other option is not acceptible right now. I'll post more in a few minutes. Right now, I need to stop and do something different so I can refocus. :P Obviously, I'm not going to be at work for a few days or driving the car. It's not the best thing for me to do when my attention span is shortened and I'm easily confused. :p
My sense of time is rather thrown off. Apart of me says that it is still January, while the calendar says that it is February. This confusion is not a result of the recent exhaustion. I wish it was. Last Tuesday, I think that was the 29th but it may have been the 28th of January, awoke at 2:30 am with a feeling like gas pains. This is a fairly familiar feeling to me by now because instead of having the fun of morning sickness, it has been gas. I tried to use all of the tricks I knew to make this worsening gas pain go away. Now, some folks may think that gas pains aren't that bad. I assure you, when I get gas pain, I fully empathise with the flatulent infants who wail at the tops of their lungs. I've had them so bad that I nearly vomited because of pain.
So, when I say that my gas pains are getting bad they're starting to approach the nauseating level of pain. Then the feeling of pain moved some. I assumed, as I experienced yet another burst of pressure release for the gas, that it was possibly constipation. By this time, it was almost 4 am. I was exhausted and in pain, to say the least the thing I wanted the most was to go to bed. That was to be wishful thinking as the pain got worse. At about 6:30, I acknowledged defeat to sleeplessness and called out of work. I also called my parents for some helpful home remedies for my stomach discomfort.
I never realized just how horribly disgusting baking soda was until I drank a teaspoon of it in a glass of water. While I know this works quite well for gas and helped to settle my upset stomach, it tasted revolting. It didn't help with the pain either. At 7:30 am, my husband woke up for work and found me doubled over on a chair in the kitchen. I didn't get the option of arguing with him when he decided that I needed to go to the doctor. I had digressed from grunting with discomfort at 2:30 am to almost constant mewling and sobbing with pain at the time we were at the doctor's office. I think we were there for 15 minutes before the doctor sent us up to the hospital emergency room.
The doctor said that there were three possible reasons why I was in such pain. My gall bladder, my appendix, or an ecoptic pregnancy. I went from not only being in white hot blinding pain but to terrified white hot blinding pain. To say the least, I was not an easy person to deal with. I refused, however, to be crying and screaming with pain in public. I reserved such emotional breakdowns for when I was alone with my husband. I'm amazed that I managed such a stoic demeanor, to be honest. I guess I truly am more stubborn then an old mule. As I was in the ER, the nurses got a little nervous because of my lack of crying out. It was obvious that I was incredible pain. I was gripping my husband's hand white knuckled, very taicturn in my responses to questions, and I had tears streaming down at times while I ground my teeth.
Some where in the midst of having 4 doctors and I think just as many interns interview and poke me, one of the presiding doctors proved the soul of mercy. I was given a dose of morphine and the pain which was making me see stars eased. I slept for a little while, though I don't remember how long. A brief time (or perhaps a moderately long time) I was transported to the Radiology department for an ultrasound. This produced one of the few good parts of this entire experience. The baby was shown to be in the correct position. My husband was with me, having a difficult time distinguishing what part of the fuzzy picture was our baby and being facinated with the computer. I was delighted to see the baby. Perhaps I had an easier time seeing the baby because I am more familiar with the pictures that I have seen of my womb and ovaries when I'm not pregnant. Being a woman who has a problem with poly-cystic ovaries, I'm quite familiar with the process of an ultrasound. I've come to find them more enjoyible then the general gynecologial exam. You don't get poked so much.
Anyways, his attention was caught when the image on the monitor moved. We were both delighted to watch as the baby moved. As they took more still pictures, hubby's interest was drawn back to the shiny object infront of him. It's cute how much of a gadget man he is. Then, they stunned him. They played the sound of the baby's heart beat. I don't know if words can describe the joy and wonder that was on his face once he understood what the sound was. I may have been heavily medicated, but I was still thrilled and the parts I remember, I remember clearly. I know somewhere around here, we have pictures. Perhaps I'll learn how to scan them and I'll post one up here for everyone to see.
Once the fact that the pregnancy was in the correct position and the baby was ok had been confirmed, I was sent off to more testing. I don't clearly remember that part. I know that I was stuck with needles and had blood tests. I've got some marks on my arms from that. I can't recall what else. Morphine does that to you. It was a blessing to actually sleep after being up so long and to feel less pain. Even though I was getting poked and prodded, I didn't mind quite so much. So, after an army of tests, I was pronounced as having appendicitis. Briefly, the possiblity was tossed around that I may have a kidney stone, but it was rejected quickly when the doctors learned that I have no history of kidney disease, kidney stones, or other urinary tract problems aside from the occasional bladder infection.
...
It's sad, but I'm now confused as to where I am in my 'saga' of suffering. They've got me on some intense pain medication right now. It makes it easy for me to get confused and a bit drowsy. I don't like being on pain medicines (or most other kind of medicines) but the other option is not acceptible right now. I'll post more in a few minutes. Right now, I need to stop and do something different so I can refocus. :P Obviously, I'm not going to be at work for a few days or driving the car. It's not the best thing for me to do when my attention span is shortened and I'm easily confused. :p
Friday, January 12, 2007
Nothing big or interesting to post yet...
Been sick with a savage head-cold that turned into a sinus infection. :p Sick in bed for roughly a week now, to be precise.
I'll update with something worth reading in the near future. Until then, have fun getting ready for the incoming storm this weekend.
I'll update with something worth reading in the near future. Until then, have fun getting ready for the incoming storm this weekend.
Monday, January 01, 2007
I blame Lionessa for this stupid quiz!
Though I think it could qualify as strangely accurate, except for the fact that I'm not usually the Top. :) Thanks, Lionessa!
* Emphasis given is my own, not the website's.*
"My Lustsign is Awaken. I am the question, waiting to be answered. I am the leader, i am the alpha, and i don't tolerate anyone to come closer. I hunt, i kill, and i do all that just to feed my apetite. I am the warrior, and bed is my battleground. I don't care what you think, i don't care how you feel. You are my prey, and that means i will taste your flesh. Having sex with you is my birthright."
* Emphasis given is my own, not the website's.*
"My Lustsign is Awaken. I am the question, waiting to be answered. I am the leader, i am the alpha, and i don't tolerate anyone to come closer. I hunt, i kill, and i do all that just to feed my apetite. I am the warrior, and bed is my battleground. I don't care what you think, i don't care how you feel. You are my prey, and that means i will taste your flesh. Having sex with you is my birthright."
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Yule/Christmas/that winter celebration...
I suppose aside from "Baby stuff" I should probably post something about why I haven't been online for the last few weeks. I was incredibly busy with stuff for Christmas. My darling husband and I have been making gifts to save money this year, just like we did last year. It was an absolute success, with a lot of help from him.
The Gifts
I managed to get my eldest neice's quilt done just barely in time. I figure that it'll be something she will treasure for years to come. Or at least I hope that's how she will feel about it. She's said that she does want the purple bunting on the edges of it, so I'll be sewing that on when I stop over to teach her how to do the needlepoint projects that I gave her along with it. The girl's father and uncle have been doing their damndest to basically turn her into a little boy. I figure she should have some girly things and that's probably one of the most girly things I remember from my childhood. So, perhaps it will prove something she cherishes as well as the quilt.
We got the cookies done in a marathon streatch of baking from the 19th thru the 24th. On the 24th, my dear husband was in the kitchen following orders like a real trooper. The total on the cookies and sweets were as follows:
That includes the funds spent upon a book for my Grandfather, my Mother's chicken knick-knack, my Father's new puzzle, and the tool kit for my brother.
The Parties
Our celebrations were at the usual locations. On the 25th, we went to my Paternal Grandparent's house. It was good to see everyone again. My brother and his wife were there with the little girls. It was a sight that gave me hope that they will work through the current difficulties and repair their wounded marriage. Just about everyone was delighted to hear our good news about the pregnancy, even if my brothers both laughed at us and called us "suckers."
I'd have to say that the most useful gift we recieved came from the uncle who is infamous for the useless gifts. It was odd. I'm convinced that he was coached as to what to give us by my mother. The new knife/utensil set with revolving carousel is an absolute delight and replaces the 15+ yr old knife set that my mother gave me when I moved into my first apartment a few years ago. I'd also say that the most thoughtful and unexpected gift after that was the wonderful clock that we were given by my brothers. It's a beautiful and very stately wall clock that one would have up in their foyer. It's making me look forward to having a house to put it up in. Generally, the gifts from us were well recieved. My father got a laugh out of the huge pretzel jar full of cookies from the two of us.
The thing that stands out from the party at my Paternal Grandparent's house the most is the screaming monkey toys that my father gave the kids. They turned into toys for the grown men, much to the aggrivation of the women-folk and the delight of the children. The other thing that stands out was the toddler's tantrum during dinner and Mom's suggesting that we announce our good news when her tantrum was over. My darling husband and I both didn't think that was the best time, so we waited until just before presents to let everyone know.
Our next party was over at my brother-in-law's house. I didn't realize just how large their house was until I went upstairs to use their bathroom. That house is *huge* and beautiful. I'm really impressed with it. That party was the evening of Christmas and much more sedate. Ofcourse I don't think we had even half the number we did at the party earlier in the day. We had a small supper of ham and potatoes with greenbeans. I was delighted, because I'd been on a green bean kick for a few days at that time. When it was time for gifts, I was thrilled to recieve a book on needlepoint from my mother-in-law. I think it's kind of obvious to her and maeby the rest of the family by now that I'm a needlepoint/handcraft addict. She has agreed to teach me how to knit, so this is going to just get worse as time goes on! :)
We told his parents in a rather classy way that my mother suggested. He gave his mother a little bag labled "To Baby, from Daddy" with a teddy bear and some baby clothes in it. She lit up in one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen on her face. I think it rivaled the one she had when we announced our engagement or the one she had on our wedding day. We had a spectacular time visiting with his brother-in-law, wife and children after everyone had left. We all speculated as to why my husband's sister gave us the two exceedinly useless gifts. We still have no idea why she bought them. My dear husband is suggesting that we sell them on E-bay. :p
The day after Christmas we attended the celebration that is held anually at his Grandmother's house. It was a *huge* party and a bit of a momentous one in it's own right, actually. This year is apparently the 50th year that the party had been held in that house. There was probably more people present then years the party had been held there. Everyone was in high spirits and thrilled to see everyone else. We recieved a beautiful wooden bowl from his Grandmother. I immediately put it up on display when we got home. I'm still stunned by just how pretty it is and I don't think I'll use it unless I have no other possible choice.
When he announced the good news to his entire father's side of the family, there was a roar of approval. Again, I was reminded of the announcement of the engagement and our wedding day. It was a wonderful party, though rather exhausting for me. At the end of the evening, I accidentally dozed off on my husband's shoulder. His Grandmother was most amused by it and found it to be rather charming. The point that my dear husband finds the most amusing, and I'll admit I agree, is the fact that the family gossip was the last to find out that we are expecting to have a baby.
That, my dear Reader, is the saga of Christmas this year and the reason why I was incommunicato for the last few weeks. I'll try to post more regularly, now that my time is not going to be taken up with sewing or cooking. With making baby stuff, I've got 9 months to work on it. I'm not going to panic.
I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year and that the holidays have treated you as well as they treated us.
The Gifts
I managed to get my eldest neice's quilt done just barely in time. I figure that it'll be something she will treasure for years to come. Or at least I hope that's how she will feel about it. She's said that she does want the purple bunting on the edges of it, so I'll be sewing that on when I stop over to teach her how to do the needlepoint projects that I gave her along with it. The girl's father and uncle have been doing their damndest to basically turn her into a little boy. I figure she should have some girly things and that's probably one of the most girly things I remember from my childhood. So, perhaps it will prove something she cherishes as well as the quilt.
We got the cookies done in a marathon streatch of baking from the 19th thru the 24th. On the 24th, my dear husband was in the kitchen following orders like a real trooper. The total on the cookies and sweets were as follows:
- Sugar Cookies: 5 dozen (1 dozen w/ candy/frosting wreaths; 3 dozen w/ sprinkles; 1 doz. pre-made, frosted and covered w/ candy)
- Chocolate Chip Cookies: 5 dozen
- Rum Ball Cookies: 4 dozen (1 dozen coated w/ powered sugar; 6 coated w/ sprinkles; 6 coated w/ sprinkles & filled w/ candied ginger; 6 coated w/ coconut; 6 coated w/ cocoa; 6 coated w/ cocoa & filled w/ chopped walnut; 6 coated w/ coconut & filled w/ candied ginger)
- Brandy Ball Cookies: 1 dozen (coated w/ powered sugar; used brandy extract)
- Liquorice Ball Cookies: 5 dozen (coated w/ cocoa)
- Home-made fudge: 2 1/2 pounds (mint chocolate with marshmallows and nuts)
- Home-made chocolate lollipops: 1 dozen
- Home-made chocolates: 4 pounds (included: ginger filled continental chocolates; rocky road cups; orange tipped chocolate snowflake candies; painted chocolate snowmen; mint chocolates; chocolate peanut butter cups; chocolate coconut cups; cinnamon filled continental chocolates; cashew filled continental chocolates)
- Kitty Pillows (1 pink, 1 yellow)
- Candy shop spa bath kit (homemade liquorice scented bubble bath; homemade orange-citrus scented bath salts; homemade chocolate cake bath salts; homemade vanilla bath beads; chocolates; candle)
- Chocolate-Orange spa bath kit (homemade orange scented bubble bath; homemade orange scented bath salts; home made vanilla bath beads; homemade lemon scented sugar scrub; chocolates; candle)
- Bakers spa bath kit (homemade lavender bubble bath; homemade orange-citrus bath salts; homemade vanilla bath beads; homemade chocolate cake bath salts; chocolates; candle)
- Sweets spa bath kit (homemade apple pie bubble bath; homemade orange scented salt scrub; homemade vanilla scented bath beads; homemade orange scented bath salts; chocolates; candle)
- Kitchen devils kit (homemade dried chili & cinnamon bundles; homemade tarragon-juniper infused vinegar; homemade pequin chili infused oil; chocolates; can opener)
- Holiday Home kit (homemade tarragon vinegar; bottle of dry Italian Red wine; homemade tarragon infused oil; homemade dried chili & cinnamon bundles; dried pomegranate; chocolates)
- Holiday Kitchen kit (homemade dried chili & cinnamon bundles; homemade tarragon-juniper infused vinegar; homemade tarragon juniper infused oil; bottle of dry Italian Red wine; dried pomegranate; chocolates)
That includes the funds spent upon a book for my Grandfather, my Mother's chicken knick-knack, my Father's new puzzle, and the tool kit for my brother.
The Parties
Our celebrations were at the usual locations. On the 25th, we went to my Paternal Grandparent's house. It was good to see everyone again. My brother and his wife were there with the little girls. It was a sight that gave me hope that they will work through the current difficulties and repair their wounded marriage. Just about everyone was delighted to hear our good news about the pregnancy, even if my brothers both laughed at us and called us "suckers."
I'd have to say that the most useful gift we recieved came from the uncle who is infamous for the useless gifts. It was odd. I'm convinced that he was coached as to what to give us by my mother. The new knife/utensil set with revolving carousel is an absolute delight and replaces the 15+ yr old knife set that my mother gave me when I moved into my first apartment a few years ago. I'd also say that the most thoughtful and unexpected gift after that was the wonderful clock that we were given by my brothers. It's a beautiful and very stately wall clock that one would have up in their foyer. It's making me look forward to having a house to put it up in. Generally, the gifts from us were well recieved. My father got a laugh out of the huge pretzel jar full of cookies from the two of us.
The thing that stands out from the party at my Paternal Grandparent's house the most is the screaming monkey toys that my father gave the kids. They turned into toys for the grown men, much to the aggrivation of the women-folk and the delight of the children. The other thing that stands out was the toddler's tantrum during dinner and Mom's suggesting that we announce our good news when her tantrum was over. My darling husband and I both didn't think that was the best time, so we waited until just before presents to let everyone know.
Our next party was over at my brother-in-law's house. I didn't realize just how large their house was until I went upstairs to use their bathroom. That house is *huge* and beautiful. I'm really impressed with it. That party was the evening of Christmas and much more sedate. Ofcourse I don't think we had even half the number we did at the party earlier in the day. We had a small supper of ham and potatoes with greenbeans. I was delighted, because I'd been on a green bean kick for a few days at that time. When it was time for gifts, I was thrilled to recieve a book on needlepoint from my mother-in-law. I think it's kind of obvious to her and maeby the rest of the family by now that I'm a needlepoint/handcraft addict. She has agreed to teach me how to knit, so this is going to just get worse as time goes on! :)
We told his parents in a rather classy way that my mother suggested. He gave his mother a little bag labled "To Baby, from Daddy" with a teddy bear and some baby clothes in it. She lit up in one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen on her face. I think it rivaled the one she had when we announced our engagement or the one she had on our wedding day. We had a spectacular time visiting with his brother-in-law, wife and children after everyone had left. We all speculated as to why my husband's sister gave us the two exceedinly useless gifts. We still have no idea why she bought them. My dear husband is suggesting that we sell them on E-bay. :p
The day after Christmas we attended the celebration that is held anually at his Grandmother's house. It was a *huge* party and a bit of a momentous one in it's own right, actually. This year is apparently the 50th year that the party had been held in that house. There was probably more people present then years the party had been held there. Everyone was in high spirits and thrilled to see everyone else. We recieved a beautiful wooden bowl from his Grandmother. I immediately put it up on display when we got home. I'm still stunned by just how pretty it is and I don't think I'll use it unless I have no other possible choice.
When he announced the good news to his entire father's side of the family, there was a roar of approval. Again, I was reminded of the announcement of the engagement and our wedding day. It was a wonderful party, though rather exhausting for me. At the end of the evening, I accidentally dozed off on my husband's shoulder. His Grandmother was most amused by it and found it to be rather charming. The point that my dear husband finds the most amusing, and I'll admit I agree, is the fact that the family gossip was the last to find out that we are expecting to have a baby.
That, my dear Reader, is the saga of Christmas this year and the reason why I was incommunicato for the last few weeks. I'll try to post more regularly, now that my time is not going to be taken up with sewing or cooking. With making baby stuff, I've got 9 months to work on it. I'm not going to panic.
I hope everyone has a wonderful New Year and that the holidays have treated you as well as they treated us.
Time for Celebrations!
On the evening of the 19th, we learned that I am pregnant. My darling husband and I are both quite excited, absolutely delighted, and more then a little apprehensive about the practical things (like money and health insurance). We know that things are going to be ok, it's just the journey from here to there is always weird and challenging. We seem to have a magnet for that kind of thing, for some reason.
I'm not entirely sure what else to post here. I ran out and bought copies of What to Expect when You're Expecting, the What to Expect when you're Pregnant companion journal, and the Expectant Father. I've been talking to my parents and his parents, writing down notes about all of the conditions that run in the family. I think I've spoken to my Mother more in the last week then I have over the last two months. Our family and friends are all ecstaticly happy for us. I've girlfriends from college just about ready to hop on the next flight to come up and give the two of us (well, technically the three of us) hugs.
At the same time, I'll admit some nervousness here. I'm concerned that I won't be the best mother that I can be for this little baby (or possibly babies, I'm in line for twins!), while at the same time I know that I'll do my best. I'm struggling against some of my own expectations for what I should be like as a mother and a wife. I realize that I've set some of those expectations far too high and it's not good for me. I'm just struggling to break the habit of expecting perfection from myself 90% of the time. I realize that placing that kind of stress upon myself is not going to be good for me or the baby(ies).
So... how on earth do you manage to make yourself chill out when at the same time you want to make sure that the kid(s) have all the possible benefits and advantages that you didn't have as a kid and be the most loving and supportive parent you can possibly be? This is going to be interesting.
I know it's going to be alright. It's just getting from here to there is going to be weird. I'm filled with so much joy and gratitude that I really don't have words for it. I've got the words for the anxiety and the pragmaticism, even for a generic description of what we're doing. I just don't have the words for the joy. I wonder if this is how most mothers feel when they learn that they are expecting a bundle of joy?
I'm not entirely sure what else to post here. I ran out and bought copies of What to Expect when You're Expecting, the What to Expect when you're Pregnant companion journal, and the Expectant Father. I've been talking to my parents and his parents, writing down notes about all of the conditions that run in the family. I think I've spoken to my Mother more in the last week then I have over the last two months. Our family and friends are all ecstaticly happy for us. I've girlfriends from college just about ready to hop on the next flight to come up and give the two of us (well, technically the three of us) hugs.
At the same time, I'll admit some nervousness here. I'm concerned that I won't be the best mother that I can be for this little baby (or possibly babies, I'm in line for twins!), while at the same time I know that I'll do my best. I'm struggling against some of my own expectations for what I should be like as a mother and a wife. I realize that I've set some of those expectations far too high and it's not good for me. I'm just struggling to break the habit of expecting perfection from myself 90% of the time. I realize that placing that kind of stress upon myself is not going to be good for me or the baby(ies).
So... how on earth do you manage to make yourself chill out when at the same time you want to make sure that the kid(s) have all the possible benefits and advantages that you didn't have as a kid and be the most loving and supportive parent you can possibly be? This is going to be interesting.
I know it's going to be alright. It's just getting from here to there is going to be weird. I'm filled with so much joy and gratitude that I really don't have words for it. I've got the words for the anxiety and the pragmaticism, even for a generic description of what we're doing. I just don't have the words for the joy. I wonder if this is how most mothers feel when they learn that they are expecting a bundle of joy?
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Happy holidays... yeah, right.
Ok, I'll admit it straight off. I absolutely hate the "holidays" for a laundry list of reasons. I'll tick that list off for you in a minute. First, I just have to get something off my chest:
I don't care if you love the "holidays" and I don't care if you think I should too. I'm not going to put on the "holiday cheer" for you or any body else, so shove off.
Sorry, I just had to get that out. I know that some where, some one is going to take offense to what I'm writing. I might as well get the offending part done already this way they don't bother with the rest of this post to rant about later in their comments. And a quick aside, on the matter of comments, while I do moderate comments, I will publish non-spam comments. If you're blatantly offensive but fail to be amusing or interesting, I won't publish your comments. If you choose to go after me via personal attacks, and fail to be even moderately interesting, I won't publish your comments.
Aside from that, go ahead and comment on what I say. I'm curious as to how the rest of the world views my ramblings and rantings.
Ok... that done, back to the main theme: how much I hate the holidays and why.
Point one: I hate the holidays to the point that I will go out of my way to avoid the disgustingly cheerful holiday music that has been played for at least as long as my grandparents are alive. (Bing Crosby was a young man the same time my Grandfather was a young man, sorry people.)
I utterly despise the forced atmosphere of false cheerfulness and plesantries. If you're going to despise me or not think me worth the time of day, don't change it just because it's cold and getting on towards the month and a half after Thanksgiving, alright. Just stick with your misanthropy and stop lying to yourself and the world about how you feel about me.
For that matter, I hate the whole damn idea that you have the decorate your home and I will do my best to avoid putting up decorations untill shortly before Yule. The decorations I do put up are fairly sparse and usually do not go along the lines of the yards of garland, faux furred stockings, and enough red and green felt to choke a horse, never mind all of the glitter, beads, and bells tacked on to it. I generally dread family gatherings this time of year because of the two faced game played by damn near everyone. So, I hate this time of year.
Point two: Some reasons I hate this time of year. (This goes beyond what I mentioned earlier, folks.)
Look, I loved them when I was a kid. Then, my family stopped celebrating being a family. It turned into the mess I described above and an obligation to attend. I hope that I can get past this misanthropy and general malice that I feel towards the "holidays" by the time I have little ones. Some of my most cherished memories are of sitting by a roaring fire opening gifts at my Great-grandmother's knee and singing Christmas carols, or laughing at some silly family story as my Dad cracked nuts for my brothers and I to eat. I'll treasure those memories for all my life and I hope that when I'm an old woman Alzheimers won't rob me of them. I also hope that I can maeby provide something more lasting for my children, maeby make it where they don't hate the holidays when they're my age.
I don't care if you love the "holidays" and I don't care if you think I should too. I'm not going to put on the "holiday cheer" for you or any body else, so shove off.
Sorry, I just had to get that out. I know that some where, some one is going to take offense to what I'm writing. I might as well get the offending part done already this way they don't bother with the rest of this post to rant about later in their comments. And a quick aside, on the matter of comments, while I do moderate comments, I will publish non-spam comments. If you're blatantly offensive but fail to be amusing or interesting, I won't publish your comments. If you choose to go after me via personal attacks, and fail to be even moderately interesting, I won't publish your comments.
Aside from that, go ahead and comment on what I say. I'm curious as to how the rest of the world views my ramblings and rantings.
Ok... that done, back to the main theme: how much I hate the holidays and why.
Point one: I hate the holidays to the point that I will go out of my way to avoid the disgustingly cheerful holiday music that has been played for at least as long as my grandparents are alive. (Bing Crosby was a young man the same time my Grandfather was a young man, sorry people.)
I utterly despise the forced atmosphere of false cheerfulness and plesantries. If you're going to despise me or not think me worth the time of day, don't change it just because it's cold and getting on towards the month and a half after Thanksgiving, alright. Just stick with your misanthropy and stop lying to yourself and the world about how you feel about me.
For that matter, I hate the whole damn idea that you have the decorate your home and I will do my best to avoid putting up decorations untill shortly before Yule. The decorations I do put up are fairly sparse and usually do not go along the lines of the yards of garland, faux furred stockings, and enough red and green felt to choke a horse, never mind all of the glitter, beads, and bells tacked on to it. I generally dread family gatherings this time of year because of the two faced game played by damn near everyone. So, I hate this time of year.
Point two: Some reasons I hate this time of year. (This goes beyond what I mentioned earlier, folks.)
- The gross consumerisim foisted upon us with the attendant guilt complex for not having the shiniest and most expensive gift for each person on your list.
- The repulsive "keeping up with the Jones's" game that is played by all of the people around the neighborhood for the most obnoxious and bright light pollution.... I mean light display.
- All of the children (and most of the adults in their own silent way) demanding, crying, screaming and throwing tantrums for what ever object du jour that will feed their greedy lust for more random crap to say they own, contributing to the entitlement/instant gratification generation.
- The desecration of the holy days of the season of many religions through the above actions.
- The failure to observe the special gift of family and the joys attendant upon having your loved ones still with you this year by the heart felt demonstrative displays of affection.
- The continuation of old bullshit arguments from last year/last holiday/last month/last week that serve only to hurt the people who you love and could easily lose within the next five minutes due to some unknown and unforseen calamity.
- The insane expectations for people to bottle up their pain and play nice with people who hurt them for the sake of making everything look like it's ok.
- The pain of attempting to brave the mall or any other shopping expidition for holiday or non-holiday purposes (with out any gurantee of safety of life, limb, or property, or success in your venture).
- The headache of making sure that you have the right gift for the person who claims they want nothing, when they feel too self conscious to admit that they want you to do something special for them.
- The heartache of having all of those subtle hints you dropped to some one ignored and getting yet another ugly tie/sweater/mixing bowl/blender/etc.
- The migraine inducing insanity of having some one give your children the exact thing you said not to give them (ie: toys with out batteries; finger paints for toddlers; etc.)
- Going to office parties, work related holiday functions, or simmilar "social obligations" when you really don't want to be around these half drunk bumbling blowhards any more then you have to, and you've no choice because failure will make you look bad and thus cost you that raise you need to put your kid through college.
Look, I loved them when I was a kid. Then, my family stopped celebrating being a family. It turned into the mess I described above and an obligation to attend. I hope that I can get past this misanthropy and general malice that I feel towards the "holidays" by the time I have little ones. Some of my most cherished memories are of sitting by a roaring fire opening gifts at my Great-grandmother's knee and singing Christmas carols, or laughing at some silly family story as my Dad cracked nuts for my brothers and I to eat. I'll treasure those memories for all my life and I hope that when I'm an old woman Alzheimers won't rob me of them. I also hope that I can maeby provide something more lasting for my children, maeby make it where they don't hate the holidays when they're my age.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Why I hate Popular Culture... (attitude rant)
Now, I'll presume that you've read my television rant. One may wonder what I do with my time, as I have a whole third of my life free to do anything I wish with it (when I finish the dishes). I listen to an incredible amount of music. I write. I do needlepoint, sewing, and other things that are traditionally known as the womanly arts. I read many books.
I'm generally socially isolated because I don't follow the cult of the idiot box. I can't have the conversation about the O.C. or who's trying to get into the pants of Dr. McDreamy. I don't particularly enjoy being socially isolated, but it's hard to have a conversation with some one about a subject that may require thought. Most people are frightened of discussing the pros and cons of the philosophies espoused by the educational system or the different implications of new translations of the Old Testament which seem to imply that the early Hebrews were actually polytheists. For some reason, big words scare these people. And I work with individuals with college degrees, most of them have Master's degrees in their respective fields!
The general attitude that I encounter in the popular culture around me is the following:
Soo... are we screwed? I hate to say it, but I think so. Sorry guys, but popular culture is destroying our species. There's not enough of us who are not of the prey animal mindset to reverse this effect. Perhaps we should hit the big red button and nuke the whole world back to the stone age. Maybe that'll cure it.
I'm generally socially isolated because I don't follow the cult of the idiot box. I can't have the conversation about the O.C. or who's trying to get into the pants of Dr. McDreamy. I don't particularly enjoy being socially isolated, but it's hard to have a conversation with some one about a subject that may require thought. Most people are frightened of discussing the pros and cons of the philosophies espoused by the educational system or the different implications of new translations of the Old Testament which seem to imply that the early Hebrews were actually polytheists. For some reason, big words scare these people. And I work with individuals with college degrees, most of them have Master's degrees in their respective fields!
The general attitude that I encounter in the popular culture around me is the following:
- All females must be size two with blond hair and at minimum a C-cup bra.
- If you violate the above rule, you must strive to meet it and wear the fashion industry proscribed clothing appropriate to your body form (provided that your size is 14 and under).
- All females must feel that their boobs are not big enough, their skin is not perfect enough, and that they must compulsively wear suggestive clothing and vast hordes of make up to correct this 'flaw'.
- Males must treat females as objects of both praise and revulsion; most explicitly adhering to this standard in the environments of mixed genders.
- Males must remind females of their place in the social construct.
- Children are allowed to be 'cute' until they reach age 5. After this age, they must initiate the development process into a sexualized object. Failure to do so will be viewed as a violation of the mandated growth process.
- ...
Soo... are we screwed? I hate to say it, but I think so. Sorry guys, but popular culture is destroying our species. There's not enough of us who are not of the prey animal mindset to reverse this effect. Perhaps we should hit the big red button and nuke the whole world back to the stone age. Maybe that'll cure it.
Why I hate Popular Culture... (television rant)
I suppose the title of this does sound a little bit too much like the essay question for a high school English class. That said, the title does fit very well and I'll only change it upon an overwhelming influx of individuals who are arguing that it is a terrible title and proposes new ones. Until that time, however, the cheezy title is going to stand. Digression about the title aside, let's get to the meat and potatoes of this post, shall we?
I do hate popular culture. I don't watch television because it gives me headaches. My headaches are not spawned by the cycle of the flicker of the screen or some other related item explained by neurological deduction. It's not like my migraines that are triggered by florescent lights. No, my headaches that come from watching television are directly related to my aggravation over the amount of banality and trite horse-shit that is shoveled into our homes through what my family affectionately calls the 'idiot box'.
Over the last year, I have watched approximately 24 hours of television. That is roughly 2 hours each month. If you wish to include the occasional times that my husband and I watch television at our friends' and families' houses, then I suppose that number would edge close to 30 hours in a year. The national average is 2555 hours per year. I got that number from a little bit of simple math and the data on this website. Just to put that into perspective, that is roughly 106 days of watching television for a full 24 hours. That comprises nearly a third of the year. Sleep takes up approximately 144 days of the year, just to let you know. Work time, based on a standard40 hour work week, is roughly121 days in the year. That leaves you with no other time for anything else, and that you're probably overlapping some of your work time with one of the other two.
One may wonder why I have chosen to be watching less television by a couple of factors of ten. Part of it is so that I have time to get things done and not live in a hovel. I'm sorry, but I'm not one of these people where I can watch television and wash dishes at the same time. I'll wind up ignoring something, and I really don't feel like getting food poisioning because my dishes or food preparation equipment wasn't clean enough. I don't like wasting electricity by ignoring the television as I'm doing other things. So I don't even bother turning it on.
I'll watch the news from time to time. It's gotten almost painful to watch even that. Look, I don't have a problem with the fact that you're reporting the latest scandal in DC or how Brittney Spears must be reported to the fashion police. But I would really prefer to hear something of more substance. I'd be thrilled if you just did your jobs, actually. Just report on the issue, don't pander to the ratings by adding your opinions on it or how you feel about the images that are shown to go with your bit piece. Please, for the love of John Campbell, just do your job! Let me make up my own mind on the topics presented. All of the miserable business of having the reporter in the sportcoat telling me how they feel or view the topic (there by attempting to influence my feelings on it) is insulting to my intelligence. I have enough gray matter upstairs in proper working order to decide if I should be scandalized, amused, or bored with Britteny's presence or lack of undergarments in public. I really don't need some mouthpeice to bet telling me how I should feel or trying to influence it.
I don't bother with soap operas, reality television or sitcoms. They're pretty much all the same. People are stabbing each other in the backs, attempting to generate a succession of high drama moments, and pandering to the prevailing trends of fashion and the contemporary sterotypes. Maeby it's just me, but I find the paper thin plots and over blown 'drama' of it all to be disgusting. If I wanted to witness that much angst, I'd be continually subscribed to all the blogs of teenagers and their related webcams. The whole business is a glorified angst-fest that puts the hallowed halls of the high school hell to shame. There's so many prima donnas in one room that I think it violates some law of physics, thus some of them must be virtual images or filmed separately and parsed together to prevent the entire group from hitting the Chandrasekhar limit and collapsing into a black hole of irony. After all gravitational mass requires substance and these are generally vapid characters we're discussing on celluloid. Maybe it's all the mass of the photons, but I doubt it.
On occasion, I will watch educational television. A large amount of the selection on the History Channel and the Discovery Channel can prove interesting, if it was written just a little bit more towards a higher educational level. This, however, is not something I expect, because I think the national average for reading level is about 5th grade. Reading level has a direct relationship to word comprehension, which is vital for one to understand terms stated to them in a discussion. In short, they dumb down their shows so that the audience can keep up with them. I'm glad that these options exist, but they're rather buried under the 5 million other channels of fluff that's out there. I know, ESPN and the other sports specific channels aren't 'fluff' per se, but they get rather repetitive rather quickly. Especially if you're not interested in sports.
Now, popular culture, as I have been subjected to it, seems to insist that the fluff channel discussion how to paint your nails properly or the latest gossip from Hollywood (which I hope that someday those poor viewers will realize is manufactured gossip) is the thing to watch. The bread and circuses of our era can be found in how pop culture upholds fast food and television where you get to see people:
Here's the really good part, I still get to hear about all of the tripe that's thrown up on the television for us all to debate if we can choke back the vomit rising in our throats or force it down by shoving a twinkie in to absorb the acid and physically force the regurgitation process to reverse. I have the wonderful joy of being told all about it by the people around me. I get to hear about Britteny's latest stunt, the current moron who's grandstanding for glory on this week's 'hottest' reality show, and be told how frumpy I look because I'm not dressed in the latest fashions. I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try, unless I completely isolate myself from all other people. Even then, I will still be subjected to the supporting materials in the form of advertisements and other miscellany that litters the world around me.
I hate having this stuff shoved down my throat. I don't want any damn part of it and it's getting forced on me.
I do hate popular culture. I don't watch television because it gives me headaches. My headaches are not spawned by the cycle of the flicker of the screen or some other related item explained by neurological deduction. It's not like my migraines that are triggered by florescent lights. No, my headaches that come from watching television are directly related to my aggravation over the amount of banality and trite horse-shit that is shoveled into our homes through what my family affectionately calls the 'idiot box'.
Over the last year, I have watched approximately 24 hours of television. That is roughly 2 hours each month. If you wish to include the occasional times that my husband and I watch television at our friends' and families' houses, then I suppose that number would edge close to 30 hours in a year. The national average is 2555 hours per year. I got that number from a little bit of simple math and the data on this website. Just to put that into perspective, that is roughly 106 days of watching television for a full 24 hours. That comprises nearly a third of the year. Sleep takes up approximately 144 days of the year, just to let you know. Work time, based on a standard40 hour work week, is roughly121 days in the year. That leaves you with no other time for anything else, and that you're probably overlapping some of your work time with one of the other two.
One may wonder why I have chosen to be watching less television by a couple of factors of ten. Part of it is so that I have time to get things done and not live in a hovel. I'm sorry, but I'm not one of these people where I can watch television and wash dishes at the same time. I'll wind up ignoring something, and I really don't feel like getting food poisioning because my dishes or food preparation equipment wasn't clean enough. I don't like wasting electricity by ignoring the television as I'm doing other things. So I don't even bother turning it on.
I'll watch the news from time to time. It's gotten almost painful to watch even that. Look, I don't have a problem with the fact that you're reporting the latest scandal in DC or how Brittney Spears must be reported to the fashion police. But I would really prefer to hear something of more substance. I'd be thrilled if you just did your jobs, actually. Just report on the issue, don't pander to the ratings by adding your opinions on it or how you feel about the images that are shown to go with your bit piece. Please, for the love of John Campbell, just do your job! Let me make up my own mind on the topics presented. All of the miserable business of having the reporter in the sportcoat telling me how they feel or view the topic (there by attempting to influence my feelings on it) is insulting to my intelligence. I have enough gray matter upstairs in proper working order to decide if I should be scandalized, amused, or bored with Britteny's presence or lack of undergarments in public. I really don't need some mouthpeice to bet telling me how I should feel or trying to influence it.
I don't bother with soap operas, reality television or sitcoms. They're pretty much all the same. People are stabbing each other in the backs, attempting to generate a succession of high drama moments, and pandering to the prevailing trends of fashion and the contemporary sterotypes. Maeby it's just me, but I find the paper thin plots and over blown 'drama' of it all to be disgusting. If I wanted to witness that much angst, I'd be continually subscribed to all the blogs of teenagers and their related webcams. The whole business is a glorified angst-fest that puts the hallowed halls of the high school hell to shame. There's so many prima donnas in one room that I think it violates some law of physics, thus some of them must be virtual images or filmed separately and parsed together to prevent the entire group from hitting the Chandrasekhar limit and collapsing into a black hole of irony. After all gravitational mass requires substance and these are generally vapid characters we're discussing on celluloid. Maybe it's all the mass of the photons, but I doubt it.
On occasion, I will watch educational television. A large amount of the selection on the History Channel and the Discovery Channel can prove interesting, if it was written just a little bit more towards a higher educational level. This, however, is not something I expect, because I think the national average for reading level is about 5th grade. Reading level has a direct relationship to word comprehension, which is vital for one to understand terms stated to them in a discussion. In short, they dumb down their shows so that the audience can keep up with them. I'm glad that these options exist, but they're rather buried under the 5 million other channels of fluff that's out there. I know, ESPN and the other sports specific channels aren't 'fluff' per se, but they get rather repetitive rather quickly. Especially if you're not interested in sports.
Now, popular culture, as I have been subjected to it, seems to insist that the fluff channel discussion how to paint your nails properly or the latest gossip from Hollywood (which I hope that someday those poor viewers will realize is manufactured gossip) is the thing to watch. The bread and circuses of our era can be found in how pop culture upholds fast food and television where you get to see people:
- act as greedy, self serving bastards
- prove themselves to be wonders of the world, for they have enough intelligence to breathe and walk upright, even as they have not enough to understand that placing a bottle-rocket up your rectum is not a good idea
- as objects of mental (and physical if you so choose) masturbation via sadistic voyeuristic fantasies lived out in reality television; specifically if you have a fetish for humiliation of others
- express a distinct lack of regard for the consequences of their actions upon others, thus engaging in behavior that proves denigrating to the society as a whole
Here's the really good part, I still get to hear about all of the tripe that's thrown up on the television for us all to debate if we can choke back the vomit rising in our throats or force it down by shoving a twinkie in to absorb the acid and physically force the regurgitation process to reverse. I have the wonderful joy of being told all about it by the people around me. I get to hear about Britteny's latest stunt, the current moron who's grandstanding for glory on this week's 'hottest' reality show, and be told how frumpy I look because I'm not dressed in the latest fashions. I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try, unless I completely isolate myself from all other people. Even then, I will still be subjected to the supporting materials in the form of advertisements and other miscellany that litters the world around me.
I hate having this stuff shoved down my throat. I don't want any damn part of it and it's getting forced on me.
What the hell.....?
Before you read this post, please read this news story from the BBC.
I'll wait a few seconds...
Ok, I'll assume that you have read this particular article. Now, on one hand, you could say, "Wow, that's horrible! Who would do something like have their kid arrested for filching their Christmas gifts early?" and on the other hand, "What the hell is so wrong with a child that they need the 'lesson' of being arrested for filching their Christmas present early?"
I think the important part of this story is not the Christmas present, like it is designed to read. The important part is:
The boy, who has been diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, is already facing an expulsion hearing at his school for attempting to hit a police officer assigned to the school last month. The boy's case will be presented to York County's Department of Juvenile Justice, which will decide what action to take. Ms Ervin told the Associated Press she hoped the authorities could scare her son into behaving himself. "It's not even about the Christmas present," she said. "I'd rather call (the police) myself than someone else call for him doing something worse."
Now, maybe it's just me, but doesn't it strike you as somewhat desperate to have to take these measures? Please, don't read that as a slight against the mother. But, the act of reporting your child for petit larceny after they have gotten into the Christmas gift is rather extreme compared to something such as grounding or taking away said gift. Perhaps this is a sign of a larger problem, one that perhaps extends beyond the child's ADHD and into how it is handled by the people around him. Is it perhaps a sign that our society's efforts to avoid teaching discipline via the application of discipline when children misbehave is not working?
Oh, I know, I sound like a curmudgeon. It doesn't change the distinct possiblity that I might be right, here. It may seem a little crazy, but perhaps the reason why this child gets into so much trouble is because his behavior is tolerated. One could argue that a policy of continual capitulation to "problem children" on the part of the schools is a dramatic part of the problem of excessive permissiveness. Oh, I know, I know, one of the wits reading this is going to say that I am taking to hard of a stance and that there's nothing that can be done to resolve this problem.
I challenge that assumption. You would have no concept of self-discipline if you were not educated by having been subjected to some form of discipline when you were younger. Children learn by things such as what happens in their environment. If a child is raised in a place where there are high standards for behavior and appropriate consequences for failing to meet those standards, eventually it will become habitual to operate close to the standards to avoid the punishment. One habit has set in, it becomes very hard to break. In the case of self-discipline, it is a continuation of the habit of avoiding the problems associated with poor behavior.
I'm not saying that I have all the answers, but perhaps we need to rethink our strategy on disciplining children. Being their "friend" rather then their parent or the authority figure in a relationship is clearly not working. This whole concept of having a parent concerned if their children "likes" them or thinks they're "cool" parents... the more and more it stinks of an avoidance behavior and an effort not to take responsiblity for being a parent.
I understand that raising children is hard work. It's probably the hardest job on the planet next to that Alaskan deep sea fishing job.. (Is that still listed as the official 'hardest job in the world'?) It may sound ignorant as hell for a woman who has no children to be saying these things too. I'm planning on having kids, though, so I need to think about them. From the models of child rearing that I have seen thus far, I am inclined to argue that very few of the 'popular' ones are working and the country is just going to get progressively worse the more people attempt to avoid doing the hard and painful work of disciplining their children.
I've worked with toddlers. It does tug at your heart strings when they are crying over the fact that they don't get that dessert after dinner because they decided to beat the snot out of another child. It makes you feel bad to see a child crying over anything. That doesn't mean that you try to make it all better by giving them a cookie "just this one time" or a new toy. You can't bribe children to behave. It does not work. They will view it as a reward to their efforts and thus you have reinforced the behavior you don't want to see.
The disgusting thing is, people at large forget that this practice holds true at no matter what age a person is. The toddler given a cookie after being told no dessert for beating up other children and crying until you feel your ears are going to bleed is no different from the teenager out after curfew. You can't say to yourself "Oh, well, if I ground him, he's going to hate me. Some one may say I'm a bad parent if he complains." and then not punish them with the stated consequence (grounding for staying out after curfew). It tells them that your rules are optional.
It undermines your authority and takes away your ability to maintain it as well. It may be less work to say "Ok, you're only 15 min late getting in. I'll let it slide this time." for a full week of the child getting in late, but it will lead to the child pushing the envelope and that time stretching out to something like 30min, an hour, or the whole night over time. You need to hold the line on your rules and commit to following thru on them.
Here's the other half of this... you need to also be good on your word for the good things too. If you tell Junior that you're going to go to the baseball game with him, then make time and do it in the near future. Schedule the time into your day planner and write it on the calendar at home where Junior can see it too. Failing to be the person who is also going to be supporting and encouraging via positive reinforcement and keeping their word will erode your crediblity as a parent just as fast as being a lax diciplinarian.
But.. what do I know? I don't have any kids and I am out of touch with popular culture.
I'll wait a few seconds...
Ok, I'll assume that you have read this particular article. Now, on one hand, you could say, "Wow, that's horrible! Who would do something like have their kid arrested for filching their Christmas gifts early?" and on the other hand, "What the hell is so wrong with a child that they need the 'lesson' of being arrested for filching their Christmas present early?"
I think the important part of this story is not the Christmas present, like it is designed to read. The important part is:
The boy, who has been diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, is already facing an expulsion hearing at his school for attempting to hit a police officer assigned to the school last month. The boy's case will be presented to York County's Department of Juvenile Justice, which will decide what action to take. Ms Ervin told the Associated Press she hoped the authorities could scare her son into behaving himself. "It's not even about the Christmas present," she said. "I'd rather call (the police) myself than someone else call for him doing something worse."
Now, maybe it's just me, but doesn't it strike you as somewhat desperate to have to take these measures? Please, don't read that as a slight against the mother. But, the act of reporting your child for petit larceny after they have gotten into the Christmas gift is rather extreme compared to something such as grounding or taking away said gift. Perhaps this is a sign of a larger problem, one that perhaps extends beyond the child's ADHD and into how it is handled by the people around him. Is it perhaps a sign that our society's efforts to avoid teaching discipline via the application of discipline when children misbehave is not working?
Oh, I know, I sound like a curmudgeon. It doesn't change the distinct possiblity that I might be right, here. It may seem a little crazy, but perhaps the reason why this child gets into so much trouble is because his behavior is tolerated. One could argue that a policy of continual capitulation to "problem children" on the part of the schools is a dramatic part of the problem of excessive permissiveness. Oh, I know, I know, one of the wits reading this is going to say that I am taking to hard of a stance and that there's nothing that can be done to resolve this problem.
I challenge that assumption. You would have no concept of self-discipline if you were not educated by having been subjected to some form of discipline when you were younger. Children learn by things such as what happens in their environment. If a child is raised in a place where there are high standards for behavior and appropriate consequences for failing to meet those standards, eventually it will become habitual to operate close to the standards to avoid the punishment. One habit has set in, it becomes very hard to break. In the case of self-discipline, it is a continuation of the habit of avoiding the problems associated with poor behavior.
I'm not saying that I have all the answers, but perhaps we need to rethink our strategy on disciplining children. Being their "friend" rather then their parent or the authority figure in a relationship is clearly not working. This whole concept of having a parent concerned if their children "likes" them or thinks they're "cool" parents... the more and more it stinks of an avoidance behavior and an effort not to take responsiblity for being a parent.
I understand that raising children is hard work. It's probably the hardest job on the planet next to that Alaskan deep sea fishing job.. (Is that still listed as the official 'hardest job in the world'?) It may sound ignorant as hell for a woman who has no children to be saying these things too. I'm planning on having kids, though, so I need to think about them. From the models of child rearing that I have seen thus far, I am inclined to argue that very few of the 'popular' ones are working and the country is just going to get progressively worse the more people attempt to avoid doing the hard and painful work of disciplining their children.
I've worked with toddlers. It does tug at your heart strings when they are crying over the fact that they don't get that dessert after dinner because they decided to beat the snot out of another child. It makes you feel bad to see a child crying over anything. That doesn't mean that you try to make it all better by giving them a cookie "just this one time" or a new toy. You can't bribe children to behave. It does not work. They will view it as a reward to their efforts and thus you have reinforced the behavior you don't want to see.
The disgusting thing is, people at large forget that this practice holds true at no matter what age a person is. The toddler given a cookie after being told no dessert for beating up other children and crying until you feel your ears are going to bleed is no different from the teenager out after curfew. You can't say to yourself "Oh, well, if I ground him, he's going to hate me. Some one may say I'm a bad parent if he complains." and then not punish them with the stated consequence (grounding for staying out after curfew). It tells them that your rules are optional.
It undermines your authority and takes away your ability to maintain it as well. It may be less work to say "Ok, you're only 15 min late getting in. I'll let it slide this time." for a full week of the child getting in late, but it will lead to the child pushing the envelope and that time stretching out to something like 30min, an hour, or the whole night over time. You need to hold the line on your rules and commit to following thru on them.
Here's the other half of this... you need to also be good on your word for the good things too. If you tell Junior that you're going to go to the baseball game with him, then make time and do it in the near future. Schedule the time into your day planner and write it on the calendar at home where Junior can see it too. Failing to be the person who is also going to be supporting and encouraging via positive reinforcement and keeping their word will erode your crediblity as a parent just as fast as being a lax diciplinarian.
But.. what do I know? I don't have any kids and I am out of touch with popular culture.
stupid quizzes
The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
And now for the personality disorder quiz from the same website...
Disorder | Rating
Paranoid: High
Schizoid: Moderate
Schizotypal: Very High
Antisocial: Moderate
Borderline: Very High
Histrionic: Very High
Narcissistic: High
Avoidant: Very High
Dependent: High
Obsessive-Compulsive: High
amusing... been a while since I took it. i guess my borderline numbers came down and the antisocial numbers went up
LOL
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Very High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | Very High |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | Very High |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Very High |
| Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) | Moderate |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Extreme |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Very High |
| Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) | Very High |
Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test
And now for the personality disorder quiz from the same website...
Disorder | Rating
Paranoid: High
Schizoid: Moderate
Schizotypal: Very High
Antisocial: Moderate
Borderline: Very High
Histrionic: Very High
Narcissistic: High
Avoidant: Very High
Dependent: High
Obsessive-Compulsive: High
amusing... been a while since I took it. i guess my borderline numbers came down and the antisocial numbers went up
LOL
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
no inspired title today... sorry.
Quick update, I'm working like a mad woman. Perhaps soon, I'll have enough time to finish the updates on everything else I'm working on. :p
At least I'm semi-regular in updating this.
At least I'm semi-regular in updating this.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
I blame my husband's blog for this one too
div style="width:300px;_height:250px; min-height:250px; background-color:rgb(216,233,237); text-align:center;">
Are_You_a_Ninja
You are ninja. Sign up at NinjaBurger.com immediately.
Take this quiz!
Quizilla |
Join
| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code
HAHAHAHAHA
I AM A NINJA & YOU'RE NOT! :P
sorry, couldn't help that. :)
Are_You_a_Ninja
You are ninja. Sign up at NinjaBurger.com immediately.
Take this quiz!
Quizilla |
Join
| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code
HAHAHAHAHA
I AM A NINJA & YOU'RE NOT! :P
sorry, couldn't help that. :)
Friday, December 01, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Love letters... 2
I've been thinking about you all day. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, actually. After that first moment of grogginess and mental cursing of the alarm clock this morning, I was thinking about how plesantly you surprised me last night. It's been going through my mind when I am not actively focused on things like the lesson I'm explaining to students or trying not to trip over the random crap left thrown in the halls.
I suppose I am doing a decent job of hiding how distracted I've been today. I wasn't so distracted that it was dangerous for me to drive home after work. I'm not so distracted that I am unable to sit here and type this little note to you. But, I wasn't really listening to the other women I eat lunch with gossip about the television shows. I didn't really pay too much attention to how the social buzz in the hallway changes as the day progresses in the school. I kept thinking about you.
The one thing that continued to run through my mind was the feeling of your lips on my skin and the sound of your voice as you whispered to me. It still makes me shiver and my heart pound. I'm not sure what more to say with out proving embaressing.
I suppose I am doing a decent job of hiding how distracted I've been today. I wasn't so distracted that it was dangerous for me to drive home after work. I'm not so distracted that I am unable to sit here and type this little note to you. But, I wasn't really listening to the other women I eat lunch with gossip about the television shows. I didn't really pay too much attention to how the social buzz in the hallway changes as the day progresses in the school. I kept thinking about you.
The one thing that continued to run through my mind was the feeling of your lips on my skin and the sound of your voice as you whispered to me. It still makes me shiver and my heart pound. I'm not sure what more to say with out proving embaressing.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
A point of contemplation - restraint...
Working in a spirit of restraint, I find ecstacy. I live in the moments of freedom where I am bound, body straining, lungs heaving and mental focus is a torture. The task of self discipline, self mastery becomes spiritual in that place of lust. Even as the ecstasy of letting go comes to me, my barriers are torn away and I'm left more pure, more genuine me. My masks, behind which I hide, are shattered, molded to fit a different form then mine.
I find freedom in having the self discipline broken, that sweet release of pure energy. For the art of the spiritual lies in it's paradox.
Oh, submission, that is another joy I find such delight in it. To give myself fully to another. To honor myself with the gift of one who is worthy of me. For in giving myself to them and their acceptance, I find I am recieving them. There is something sacred in the gift of each other that two people make in the bedroom. It is not mearly lust that spurs this gift on but some sacred duty. This duty is to love and be loved in return.
Sex is but a natural progression of this love. Yest, I know there are other ways to describe and aspire to show this burgeoning love. For love is an emotion and the human mind can convey emotion in an infanite array of ways, not all using the human body. But love, why is it so sacred? what makes it so holy? why is it a gift, a thing most precious. Just as we all need food and shelter to live and be healthy, so too do we need human contact and love to do so.
It is a rare soul that can live as an aescetic and alone. These hardy souls are voyagers into the place of spirit that few venture to. For their chosen companion is themselves. That is not my place. i love the warm circle of my husband's arms far too much to give it up and be alone. I strive, however, to succeed alone. I struggle to adapt myself to the silence of an empty room and the presence of only myself, not one stick of furniture or bare flickering of a candle. But it is hard. Such places of silence do exist, but rare is the mood that brings me there.
The white silence of fury brings me there. I have come to fear that place because warm compassion does not seem to exist, only cold logic and lightning's power. Some day, I shall yet master it. Fear is no man's friend, not when it is your master. Yet, when you strive to conqure it and take it into you as a part o yourself, your soul, fear becomes a wise counselor, warning you of dangers and ill consequences.
I find freedom in having the self discipline broken, that sweet release of pure energy. For the art of the spiritual lies in it's paradox.
Oh, submission, that is another joy I find such delight in it. To give myself fully to another. To honor myself with the gift of one who is worthy of me. For in giving myself to them and their acceptance, I find I am recieving them. There is something sacred in the gift of each other that two people make in the bedroom. It is not mearly lust that spurs this gift on but some sacred duty. This duty is to love and be loved in return.
Sex is but a natural progression of this love. Yest, I know there are other ways to describe and aspire to show this burgeoning love. For love is an emotion and the human mind can convey emotion in an infanite array of ways, not all using the human body. But love, why is it so sacred? what makes it so holy? why is it a gift, a thing most precious. Just as we all need food and shelter to live and be healthy, so too do we need human contact and love to do so.
It is a rare soul that can live as an aescetic and alone. These hardy souls are voyagers into the place of spirit that few venture to. For their chosen companion is themselves. That is not my place. i love the warm circle of my husband's arms far too much to give it up and be alone. I strive, however, to succeed alone. I struggle to adapt myself to the silence of an empty room and the presence of only myself, not one stick of furniture or bare flickering of a candle. But it is hard. Such places of silence do exist, but rare is the mood that brings me there.
The white silence of fury brings me there. I have come to fear that place because warm compassion does not seem to exist, only cold logic and lightning's power. Some day, I shall yet master it. Fear is no man's friend, not when it is your master. Yet, when you strive to conqure it and take it into you as a part o yourself, your soul, fear becomes a wise counselor, warning you of dangers and ill consequences.
Love letters... 1
I wrote this yesterday as I was waiting for you. I suspect that you will probably read it at work. And I suspect that it will be the least potentially offensive item seen on a computer screen around those parts. :) That said, I hope it doesn't make you blush too much.
********* Love Letter no. 1 *********
All I can think about is how much I want you. My body aches for your touch. The wamrth of your voice as you see my tears of fustration slides more seductively over my senses then the finest of silks. I crave you like an addiction. every inch of my flesh cries out for your touch just as every fiber of my soul screams to surrender to you.
Again and again, we go through this tortured, treasured ritual of devotion. By submitting to you, I come home to myself. In accepting my surrender, I can see peace returning to your soul.
********* Love Letter no. 1 *********
All I can think about is how much I want you. My body aches for your touch. The wamrth of your voice as you see my tears of fustration slides more seductively over my senses then the finest of silks. I crave you like an addiction. every inch of my flesh cries out for your touch just as every fiber of my soul screams to surrender to you.
Again and again, we go through this tortured, treasured ritual of devotion. By submitting to you, I come home to myself. In accepting my surrender, I can see peace returning to your soul.
Monday, November 27, 2006
Just a note...
[deleted]
We discussed this last night.
You're right, I do need to stop torturing myself.
Gods, I hope I figure out how.
We discussed this last night.
You're right, I do need to stop torturing myself.
Gods, I hope I figure out how.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)