*I* love kitty

I can see it now: I'll be one of those old crazy cat ladies with the long snarly gray hair, surrounded 24/7 by 68 cats. I was raised with in a standard two-parent, two-kid, two-cat household, so that's the pattern I followed this time. If I had it to do over again, I would've adopted two more; four is very manageable. In all actuality, we probably have four now, condensed into two physical feline bodies. And they are the coolest. Behold...



We saw Murphy first. I had always wanted a little orange/red-and-white tiger-striped/tabby cat, and there he was. He was so calm and easygoing, with such a sweet face that we bonded rather quickly. And then he promptly fell asleep, right on my husband's chest. Even in the chaotic environment of the SPCA, he was perfectly comfortable sacking out up against a complete stranger.

Murph is our true special needs kitty. Whether it was a mis-breed or maternal malnutrition or whatever else, he ended up rather retarded. Of all the feline instincts, only the important one--the litter box instinct--remains intact. Otherwise, he doesn't bathe himself, and he possesses no predator instinct. He's mildly attracted to potential prey, but he only plays with it, not knowing that the next step is to kill it for food. Instead, he loves to air-launch and lunge against the back door, in attempt to play with the slow-flying June bugs in March during the morning or evening twilight. Measuring as big as my pillow, he runs into the room and jumps up onto the bed at night, in an attempt to beat me to my side of the bed so he can claim his territory. It's his one display of the act of thinking ahead.

He's a few animals rolled into one, though. Usually, he's a dog, with big feet and a slightly oily coat that he never washes. Piss him off, though, and he becomes a cougar. His meow even transforms instantly from loud shrill kitten into the growl and snarl of a cougar. If he sees you as a threat, he will lash out and put the smackdown on you. He can kick a human's ass, if he needs to. The need for anger management classes is quite rare, though. Strangely enough, he can have that kind of reaction after an encounter with catnip.



Maddie (fully Madison Renee) mandated a middle name solely to have an extended version of her name with which to address her in times of "busted", which remains, 6.5 years later, a common occurrence. We knew it the day we saw her. There she was, the quiet little tuxedo, perching way back in the cage. Behind the others, she looked out calmly and self-assured, simply knowing that she would be seen. The assistant gently scooped her from the back and handed her to me, and I already know the little tyke was a little off: in this environment of stale urine odor, echoing noise, and horrible fluorescent light, this little black-and-white ball of silk was purring.

Yes, at 6 weeks old, Maddie's personality was already formed. We knew she'd be intelligent, too much so for her own good, and mischievous. We also knew she had a little 'tude. Her eyes seemed to communicate a subtle but potent personality instability, although it was the kind of look that would only be recognized as such by an experienced cat person. I tread lightly at first, and it took me a little while to realize that she wasn't going to lash out at all. Underneath all that electricity, she was (still) purring.

Nothing surprises us anymore when it comes to her. She can levitate momentarily (think "The Matrix"), where she spontaneously springs four feet into the air from a stationary position. She doesn't know she's a cat--or maybe she does, but resents it, and doesn't want to admit it. She thinks she is (or, at least she would rather be) a dog. She plays more than she sleeps. She designates certain unlikely objects as her toys and disperses them in strategically in high-traffic places, right in the middle of the walkway, where we can't help but to see them. Usually, she is crouched by whichever toy is closest to where we are at the time. Based on a lot of research on both personality attributes and physical characteristics, she is almost sure to be half Turkish Angora, and a quarter each of Persian and Bombay.

Both of them are so cool they piss ice cubes. Both sleep on the floor on their backs. Both personalities were allowed to develop and come into their own, so neither are very timid about expressing themselves and who they are. Murphy is more timid and slightly less comfortable around strangers than Maddie is (she's downright fearless, almost to a fault), but even he will let it all hang out around someone he's seen a few times. Both of them are talkative and playful and relaxed (although both can be slightly jumpy--I wonder if they were startled by a loud noise as kittens or if they got freaked out by a huge thunderclap during a storm or something). They are polar opposites, the yin and yang. Both enrich our lives in a way that simply can't be duplicated. I can only hope we enrich theirs at least half as much.

Chiropractic Myths

You may have heard horror stories. You may have heard another healthcare professional tell you not to come to us. (This is not only unethical, but it is straight-up illegal.) You may know someone who claims they were hurt or injured at a chiropractor's office. These stories conjure up so much negative imagery that it scares hordes of people who desperately need our help out of coming to see us. I'm on a mission: I'm going to put to rest these ridiculous myths that continue to circulate. I'll attack the most common ones, and then open it up to you; just use the "Post Comment" link at the bottom.

Myth: Chiropractic is unscientific.
Fact: Let's explore that. Think back to your basic introductory science classes, no matter what level. We all learned about the scientific method. Historically, people made observations about the world around them. They formed a hypothesis, which is a working assumption based on the observation. Then they tested that hypothesis as best they could. Based on the results, they either confirmed or debunked the hypothesis and either altered it or started over from scratch. This is the basis for a vast majority of our current scientific knowledge, and it is the method still used today.

If this is congruent with your own definition and understanding of science, then yes, chiropractic is indeed scientific. Actually, there is even more sound research to validate chiropractic treatment than there is for low back surgery. I know it sounds funny to think about achieving good health through having your back being pushed on in a specific way, but truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. Chiropractic has stood the test of time, and has held its own through western allopathic medical skepticism, government and private research, individual case studies, media bias, negative portrayals and accusations, and even those who went to jail for treating their patients.

Myth: Chiropractic is dangerous.
This sentence is true, if you add one caveat: chiropractic maneuvers performed by people who lack sufficient training is dangerous. It is illegal for any unlicensed practitioner to perform any spinal adjusting, or to claim to do so. This includes the quick neck turns and back thrusts. Other types of licensed practitioners, like massage therapists, are also acting well outside of the law (and their client's best interest!) if they stray outside of the soft tissue world. Depending on the individual state laws, Physical Therapists, Naturopathic Doctors, and Medical Doctors can perform manipulations, but often only if they've been certified through minimual weekend workshop training. (But then, you have to ask yourself if you really want a PT wrenching on your neck who only learned their moves over the weekend.)

The fact is, chiropractic is overwhelmingly safe. Just ask the insurance companies. They live and die by doing research on which demographics and occupations pose the highest risk. Risk is assessed based on the number and severity of claims lodged against them. This is how the insurance industry survives--they have to be stellar at assessing risk, or they go out of business very quickly. Since cultural wisdom holds the almighty Medical Doctor in the highest esteem, let's take them on as a group. The average medical malpractice rates average from $4k per year (the very low end for a relatively non-risky medical internist) to over $125k or more (the higher end for a neurosurgeon). The average chiropractor pays between $1500 and $2500 per year. Let's get real for a second: if chirorpactors posed such a huge risk to the public and stroked people out all the time, our rates would be right up there with, or higher than, those of the MDs. The fact is, chiropractors pay an average of 10% as much (assuming an overall MD average of $20k in Washington state). If chiropractic was really so dangerous, would our rates be so low? Would anyone even insure us at all?

Myth: Chiropractors aren't real doctors.
What's a doctor? In Latin, the word means "teacher". In Greek, a physician described a "healer". In contemporary terms, a doctor is someone with a doctoral degree who sees patients, diagnoses their problem, and treats it according to whichever discipline they were trained in. Chiropractic medical schools are recognized and accredited by the US Department of Education, just like allopathic medical schools. The prerequisites required to enroll in chiropractic programs are identical to those of allopathic schools. The program is the same 4 years (although at many schools who choose to operate through summer and accelerate the program, it takes 3 years to complete), and the basic science classes and national medical board exams all contain, and test on, identical information. Here's a rundown...

Average Minimum Required Classroom Instruction Hours During 1st two pre-clinical years *

Chiropractic College		Traditional Medical School
366.4	Anatomy/Embryology.	184.6
561.2	Physiology/Pathology	542.3
197	Microbiology/Public Health/Biostatistics	155.3
312.8	Physical Diagnosis/Clinical Medicine	200.5
141.4	Neuroscience	114
105.9	Cell biology/Histology	130.7
66.7	Nutrition	21.5
29.4	Pharmacology	99
1900.8	Average Hours for 1st two years	1556.3

* Source: the 2008-2009 catalog at Parker College of Chiropractic (the information in the medical doctor column is from the American Medical Association, reprinted with permission in Parker's catalog.)

Myth: Once you get adjusted, you have to keep going back.
This actually depends on what you expect to get out of your chiropractic care. If you want to stay out of pain, it'll probably only take a couple of visits and then voila! But truthfully, aspirin is cheaper. It causes organ damage in the long run, though. Bummer. Chiropractic is so much more than just pain relief. It's all about function. I'll probably explain more about this later (what are the odds?) Suffice it to say that it's a good idea to at least get a monthly checkup. It'll often take a whole 5 minutes and if you do need an adjustment that day, it'll usually be included in the visit price. The main idea is to get an ethical doctor (as is true for every profession) and if you have any doubts, questions, or concerns, be sure to voice them. After all, you're the patient, and it's your time and money!

So, bring it on. Fire away. No question too pointed, no issue too hot. Let's get it all out on the table.

What would *you* do for a Klondike bar?

Wait, don't answer that. I may not want to know.

I was prepared to discuss a completely different topic today, but the hand of fate struck: we went to the mall. This was a task I was not exactly looking forward to, simply because I dislike the experience of being accosted by some snotty Latina (no offense) who comes running up to us--even though we are completely engaged in deep conversation--claiming she only wants "to ask us a question". The holiday shopping season was a nightmare; they tried every tactic in the book, even to the point of pretending you weren't engrossed in conversation or zeroing in on you as if the people you were with weren't even there.

None of the usual counter-measures worked. We tried all of them--walking on the opposite side near the wall, purposefully looking away, starting a conversation or intensifying one already in progress, pretending to answer our cell phones, pretending to be hearing impaired (at least, more so than I am), pretending not to be able to speak English, you get the idea. This particular breed of brat knows no shame. Apparently, they'd submit to levels I'd rather not even think about for that dangling Klondike bar.

Having been a retail employee myself, I do retain a shred of empathy. After all, the memories of being subjected to ridiculous new insta-policies (usually an irrational knee-jerk reaction at middle management level), and feeling compelled to holler across a 4000-sq-ft store to zero in on my target (i.e. anyone who wandered into the store, and for any reason) in 12 seconds or less and then live and die by the scripted approach, or risk being tattled on to management by the dreaded Secret Shopper who has no qualms about failing me on every point of the checklist they clutch in some third hand I can't see, with a neutral smile on their face throughout the whole encounter.

Seeing as how we're studying Freud (Fraud) in Clin-Psych this week, I couldn't help but to pause to attempt to explore why I am so hyper-reactive to unwanted advances by salespeople. I mean, it's not like they're going to physically assault me or anything. (Oh wait, maybe I better not assume that; cynical as I can become, I'm surprised every day by the new depths that people achieve.) Regardless, I'm astute enough to understand that at least part of the problem is me. I hate to admit that Freud has any validity, but maybe he's onto something here. My earliest contacts with other people outside of my family were less-than-pleasant. I was a wallflower, the other kids smelled it, and were on me like a pack of dogs. It's like that "We Are the Champions" song; I was laughed at, put down, and made all kinds of fun of. Anything was fair game - my plain stringy (and later, worse--frizzy!) hair, my shyness, my name, my clothes, my lack of knowledge of how to play sports in gym class, or the fact that I misunderstood or forgot the teacher's directions. Later it was my dating choices and my acne.

Sure, people sometimes buried their hatchet and turned over a new leaf, and the teasing came to a cease-fire...for about as long as it took to play a prank, put me up to something, or extract something from me. The idea of getting something out of me, I believe, is the real culprit. This behavior from others lasted so long that I began to get the idea that A) people sucked, B) trust no one, and C) be especially suspicious whenever someone tries to be nice to you, because it's either a joke or a scam. Wow, healthy.

Moving to Dallas didn't exactly help. It's hard to describe our lovely city, but the words empty, irrational, soulless, selfish, materialistic, self-absorbed, cutthroat, and snobby are an excellent start. Even the locally-based companies won't treat you with any respect. It's hard to get any response to the messages you leave, even if you wave enough money in front of their noses to buy a car. Face-to-face, they're sweet as pie; they talk big and promise you the moon, offering to follow-up with favors or additional information you request, but then they vanish into thin air and all of your voice mails, text messages, and emails vanish into the (Erchonia) abyss. (That was an example, by the way. These people were the 180* opposite of pushy, but in a bad way; I had to pull teeth to give them my business! However, as long as they've acknowledged the sales prospect, they get pushy while trying to pretend not to be. OK, I feel better with that off my chest.)

Never one to allow myself to rant without offering a solution, here's mine: be accessible and attentive, but leave us alone to investigate, and decide for ourselves. If we need you, we'll let you know, if you're around. (If not, we'll just snag the next employee who'd like to make a sale.) And you had better know your product and be able to answer at least basic questions. If you can't, I must ask--do you at least know where you work? Your name and what day of the week it is and all that? Also, understand that consumers are often smarter than salespeople assume we are, and we can indeed smell a sales pitch like a fart in a car. And here's the big surprise: it's usually a turnoff. (And the solution for our singled-out example company is even less complicated: simply act like you want to stay in business. Then you should be good to go.)

This story has a happy ending. Remember those kiosks in the mall with those pushy high school salespeople? Every last one of them shut down. Only those who are decidedly NOT pushy remain. Before someone plays devil's advocate and says, "well, it IS past the holiday season, after all", you're right--except for the fact that I've never seen so many vacancies, not even after the Twin Tour fiasco in 2001. Perhaps the consumers have actually spoken this time, and maybe, just maybe, they mean it when they say their number one shopping pet peeve is pushy salespeople. Maybe these snots drove themselves right out of business. Justice served.

BTW, how much chocolate are in those Klondike bars? :)

the winter of my discontent

I've been a little cranky lately. Not I'm-going-to-turn-my-home-office-upside-down mad, but the mixmaster of life events is sort of trying what's left of my patience.

I think I'm handling it rather well. After all, I sat mildly at the computer and goofed off with my latest winter crush Pandora (a music genome project - www.pandora.com), alternating my seven-times-fire-ant-bitten hand with quickly expiring ice packs and a surprisingly effective cold laser machine. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I did nothing wrong. These little fuckers invaded our home and created a full-on interstate between the port of entry cranny in the wall and our fricking clothes. Not all of them, either--select garments. Thankfully, the lion's share of their amor consisted of my white turtlenecks (sorry, I'm still stuck in the 1970s--so shoot me) where they were more highly visible.

They didn't get me right away. I know how to pluck them off and start mashing them between my fingers (straight pressure, no matter how much, will simply not work) such that they didn't have a fighting chance...that is, until they started dropping down from the hangers above. Geronimo! And when one started stinging, it's like he sent little telepathic or subaudible signals to the others, because then I realized ten other ants had converged onto my fingers and I got multiple stings in seconds flat. I'm mildly allergic, so my reaction is rather pronounced. A single bite will swell my hand up such that my big-ish knuckles completely disappear. It will burn and itch, and get hot and hard, and it will take 4-5 weeks to completely recover. Yeah.

Then I had a no-show. A year and a half ago, this wasn't exactly surprising, as there was a significant drop in the quality of prospective new clients, but this was different. This was one who'd been with me, faithfully and without fail, through thick, thin and everything in between, for the last 4 years. Suddenly one evening, no call, no show, and no email. It has been determined that this client is physically OK, nothing happened to them that night, and without saying as much, nor any reason why, their actions said loud and clear that they weren't returning. I can't help but take that at least a little personally. I mean, this change in the therapeutic relationship was so abrupt, and with no explanation given, that it causes me to wonder what I did wrong, after all this time. Definitely a cause for the reflection that a retrograde Mercury oh-so-willingly encourages.

Yeah, let's talk about that renegade Mercury, now that I mention it. That little leprechaun (who is normally benign) got a wild hair up his butt and started running backwards and took every shred of our sanity with him. Ever wonder why one day every word you utter gets taken the wrong way? Or why you can't get your computer to function to save your life and every avenue you try doesn't work either? Or why you unknowingly send your electric bill payment to the telephone company and vice versa? Heh. Blame that guy. Don't let him fool you, he's got a smirk on his face the whole time. He reigns supreme, too, for about three and a half weeks. Then he does an about face, and he's back to his old benign self again. Hey, at least the full moon is past.

Heh, I guess it's time to turn Pandora back on. It was sedating my fried nerves. Nothing that Pandora and a little chocolate can't fix. But just wait...we haven't even touched upon Clinic Camp yet.

Remember me?

I know, I know, I've been electronically scarce. Sorry about that. I have plenty of excuses, though! Wanna hear 'em? I've learned a whole lot over the past couple of weeks. Like you know how well-meaning people parrot "the grass is always greener on the other side" when trying to make you feel better about being in a crappy place? Well, I learned that sometimes, the grass actually is greener on the other side. As in, maybe the fact that Dallas seems to score higher on the rudeness factor than most places actually may not be my imagination after all. There really is no place like home after all, and I don't mean that in the best of ways.

I also learned that ambient restaurants in ritzy neighborhoods that serve fantastic made-from-scratch food can also be cheap. (Not in Dallas, of course.)

So, I'm just pinging the universe to state for the record that I haven't gone away, and that you're still stuck with me, should you choose to continue to subject yourself. Werd. :)

clean & sober

For those of you looking for cheap therapy in what the media claim is a downtrodden economy, I have the perfect solution: clean. Over the past week, we've ventured where no man has gone for at least the last 7 years, every nook and cranny, and unearthed many a shirt from high school or a framed needlepoint from before kindergarten. We put on the Claude Challe and the Rihanna dance tunes, and old Eurodance tracks from the early '90s bound and determined to get you up and moving, and went.

It got worse before it got better. Everything came out into the open, strewn all over the floor, including the Massage Office computer software that try as I might, I could never get it to work. Or the Trapper Keeper of 2 years' worth of love letters written during class between me and my high school sweetheart. Or the dresses purchased at Goodwill during leaner times (you know--back when the economy actually WAS bad. I call bullshit on the current doom and gloom reports because the mall stores do indeed have "now hiring"/"help wanted" signs hanging outside, something that was not the case during our Goodwill times...but I digress.) Nothing was sacred, nothing exempt. I found second and even sometimes third copies of books; good as they are, we only really need one. We sifted through the VHS tapes and found that some of those that we thought we had gotten rid of, we actually had not yet.

Next was the filing cabinet that stores massage therapy notes and intake paperwork (no, you're not filling all those forms out in vain; yes, we actually do store them). I realized that most of the paperwork pertained to clients that no longer come here and by that I was a little surprised, just because even back when I was actually trying to build my practice and I really put my heart and soul into every session, people still left after 1-2 visits. That's OK, maybe they're shopping around and we just weren't a good fit or they wanted someone who would dig an elbow into the back for an hour. No problem. I also realized that many of those who left had Issues; as in, I can still remember them 3-4 years later and I'm not sorry they're not still clients. There were the One-Hit Wonders--the no-shows, pervs, and just plain psycho people who swore up and down that we had not worked their neck when in fact we had just spent the last hour doing exactly that. But there were the good people too, some of whom I had simply screwed up with, committed a faux pas of some sort somewhere along the line, and they're no longer with me. For that, I'm sorry, and while part of me wishes I could see them again, it is overruled by the house majority that knows I'm far too busy to give them the attention they deserve. I'm more than content with the select few clients I currently have.

The more I went through and unloaded things from my past, the more ready I was to face the present (and future, for that matter). Gone was the yet-unused candle given to me by a former friend with whom I no longer have contact. Gone is that common popular picture of the angel, since angels are predominantly a Christian phenomenon and I am further removed from Christianity with each passing day. Gone are the last belongings from my childhood (don't worry Mom, I kept my baby book and 2nd birthday cards--although I did chuck the laminated cookbook we made as a class in first grade, cuz let's face it--I ain't ever gonna learn to cook hamburger meat, but my husband does a bang-up job, so what's the point?)

I saved the journals I've kept since 4th grade, and the cool late-'80s earrings I got for Christmas when I was 12, because they're still cool and I might still wear them, even after grunge destroyed the glam scene and drowned the hot pink and electric blue in a sea of brown and forest green. I kept the T-shirt the Tangents magazine (read: alterna-crowd) staffers pulled an all-nighter to make the night before my early-morning initiation. I will probably never wear it, and it hangs all the way up on the top row of a walk-in closet with 12-foot ceilings, but I do catch it frequently in the corner of my eye and it still takes me back, so I deem it important. Some of these pointless keepsakes serve as anchors to memories of times long gone, times of innocence, when life was much simpler. Before the mortgages and auto insurance. Before having to file taxes and fight rush hour. Back before I even knew what the rat race was. As far as I could tell, the rat race was for older people. Well, now we are those older people. Sometimes the adult real world gets overwhelming. I feel gypped sometimes, because it's nothing like we saw on MTV.

But what do you do? Some people go to a shrink. But for me, there's nothing like cleaning out unwanted stuff I haven't looked at in 3 years and giving it away, knowing it will probably wind up in the hands of someone who could really use it. Despite my promises to myself that I would need that item someday, thus justifying my hanging on to it, I finally had to admit to myself that it's not gonna happen. Reluctantly, I let it go. You know what? I can't even remember what those items were, and I cleaned them out just a few days ago. Instead, I feel lighter. More refreshed. Simpler. For the first time in a long time, our house only contains objects that we're actually going to use. That shouldn't be a revolutionary concept, but it is. There's no other feeling like it. The therapeutic value is off the charts. And hey--the price is right.

Catty New Year

Traditionally, we have always celebrated holidays on the evening before. Tonight is no different. I'm a-ringing in the New Year with lit candles and Christmas/Yule lights, incense, acoustic guitars playing on the satellite music channel, and a freshly semi-clean house.

2008 has been a hell of a year, both fun and challenging. It has been a pivotal year, as many milestones were achieved and decisions made, and I have the feeling that this coming year will be just as pivotal.

The year in review:
1. Last year at this time, we had just finished our first full, arduous year of school, and yet we still held on to the belief that our school was basically good and that while they seized every possible opportunity to capitalize, it was not all about the money. My how things change. At present, we've just finished our second year, which means we're that much closer to setting up shop in a strip mall near you. To be honest, it was the Year of Bitterness, bordering on hostility. I mean, everybody got the life, energy, drive, and passion sucked right out of them by a hypocritical and overbearing administration, even the "think positive" silver-lining types. We realized that everything was indeed all about the money (or covering their collective asses, take your pick; usually, it was both), and that our two-faced admin was dang near indictable. Over the course of this year, it dawned on us that we ran the risk of walking across the stage at graduation as ineffective doctors better suited to be fanatical fringe-appealing salespeople who reeked of some kind of fundamentalism, who might have amounted to something if we had actually earned bonafide business degrees. But we didn't. And what the hell do you do with Anatomy? It's a tough and prestigious degree to earn, and it just might impress the hell out of the world, if only anybody cared besides fellow DCs. There's more but I have the feeling it's going to need its very own post.

2. Also last year at this time, we made the lion's share of the wedding planning progress. The planning could not have gone any better; everything fell into place and took a fraction of the typical time. The wedding itself took place on Halloween and it went off without a hitch, smooth as glass, save for a flaky DJ with a malfunctioning hippocampus (that's the short-term memory bank for those of you with lives). It was beautiful and amazing. With any luck it provided some inspiration for some of the unmarried couples who attended. We'd like to think so.

Sidebar: I'm probably one of the luckiest ladies on earth, to have my husband. He is one of the warmest, kindest, funniest, most intelligent, most sensitive, and most respectful men on this planet. He's the kind of guy who would restore even the bitterest woman's faith in the male gender. He's a fantastic cook. He does the laundry. He combines errands and plans them outside of times of heavy traffic to minimize the amount of time I spend driving. He likes cats. He leaves the toilet seat down. He doesn't smoke, drink, take any drugs, dabble in porn, go out with the guys, or oogle other women. He doesn't crack distasteful jokes, especially in mixed company. He's comfortable enough with his own masculinity that he doesn't feel the need to display machismo. He treats his patients well and listens to them. He likes nostalgic '80s movies and doesn't fall for stupid humor. He pays attention to the world around him, not just what the mainstream media want him to swallow.

3. I continue to struggle with a couple of mysterious health issues. It's not anything common or deadly like diabetes or heart disease, nor is it debilitating like asthma, depression, or paralysis. No, I've been going deaf, so slowly that I barely noticed it. Not just your normal hearing impairment, either; it has its good days and its bad days. It's not that the nerves are dying off, at least not yet; it's that there's something somewhere that is interfering with them. Maybe the nerves are being injured, but there is indeed a perpetrator on the sidelines. Whether it's a food allergy, an accumulation of released particles from my leaking amalgam fillings, or yet something else, remains to be figured out, which is not currently something I have the money to do. I'm leaning more toward the mercury hypothesis at this point, because I have all the other symptoms: the balance and coordination issues, the short-term memory loss, the tinnitus (ringing in the ears), and the occasional nystagmus (involuntary horizontal eye twitching).

Other previous health issues are improving, though. The migraines have become less frequent and I no longer fall asleep in class, probably thanks to my fall from vegetarian grace. Reverting back to omnivore status was a tough and guilt-ridden decision to make, but after two and a half years, I had to face the inevitable; I function better when I include animal flesh. I can't explain it; it is what it is.

4. This year, I've taken some powerful steps to take my life back. I slowed down my driving, preserving both gas and sanity. It works and it doesn't cost much extra time. I tightened the leash on my massage availability. No longer do I work into the evening on Fridays, nor do I schedule more than one appointment on a school night. I've turned off all political AM radio talk shows and evening newscasts. Most of what concerns me I'll hear about at school anyway, as the mainstream media typically ignore those subjects. I've made it a point to stay regular with my studing, then to take some time to unwind, and then get to bed earlier. It's still hit-and-miss, but I've made some progress and I notice the difference.

5. And last but not least, last year at this time, I was researching, and in the process of adopting, Buddhism as a faith that I would soon follow and practice. This year, I am doing the same with Wicca, as an apprentice until this coming fall, when I will become a true practitioner through the typical and traditional process of self-initiation. I'm still a Buddhist, and I'm still a Hindu as well. (Gosh, I'm starting to sound like Gandhi: "I'm a Hindu. I'm a Buddhist. I'm a Jew..." Not that that's a bad thing.)

I look back because I firmly believe that one must reflect upon the past in order to discern where he or she is going. Here's where I'm going--my New Year's Resolutions:

1. At school, I resolve to make the most of my education, to absorb and incorporate the material, to understand it thoroughly and to apply it properly. To study diligently, consistently, and to stay awake and attentive in class.
2. In marriage, I resolve to be as good a spouse to my husband as he is to me, to give more than I take, to be supportive and encouraging, to listen attentively and empathetically and provide stress relief, to do my part to keep a clean uncluttered home, and to keep control over my thoughts, actions, words, and moods.
3. As an intern, I resolve to take good care of my patients, to listen carefully, to observe astutely, to consider every possible option in diagnosis and treatment, to go the extra mile and to be their advocate when approaching my staff doc to discuss treatment options. I'll respect their intelligence, always telling them why I prescribe what I do, instead of resorting to false information simply because I think it's easier for them to absorb, or using fear tactics or high pressure to keep them coming back.
4. For myself, I resolve to take care of myself both physically and mentally. Physically, I'll opt for organic fruits and vegetables and organic animal products and abstain or minimize junk foods, artificial ingredients, processed foods, and non-organic foods. I'll also set aside time specifically for physical activity. I also resolve to continue the search for the underlying cause(s) of my issues and once identified, to faithfully work to eliminate them. Mentally, I'll pay more attention to what I surround myself with, whether that pertains to people, music, movies, colors, words, concepts, subjects, research, space, clutter, photographs, or vibes. I'll avoid horror or violent movies, edgy hostile music, dark subjects and concepts, agitating colors, or toxic/negative people consumed by their own issues that they use to manipulate those around them.
5. As a Hindu, Buddhist, and Wiccan apprentice, I resolve to study the faiths I follow and practice regularly, (save for nights before exams), and to live up to their tenets to the best of my ability. I'll never prosthelytize or evangelize, but I'll also never hide or deny what I am. Never will I doubt that which rings true to me, nor will I fail to speak up and question that which does not make sense.

Raise the roof. Carpe diem. Just don't forget to turn off the music and blow out the candles.

losing (not)my religion

Let me be perfectly clear: I do believe in a Higher Power. I say this because so many people assume that if you're not Christian, you're atheist or Satanic. I am neither, and vehemently.

I've always teetered back and forth on exactly how Christian I was (or wasn't). At 13, in the middle of first-year confirmation classes at the local Lutheran church (not my idea), I proclaimed that I wasn't so sure about whether or not I should go through with an official, public, vocal affirmation that I was Lutheran--or Catholic, for that matter (I was raised both, with less emphasis on the latter until later adolescent years--as in, after the flopped Lutheran indoctrination). Inside, I was secretly timid about the whole venture, and the fact that I dared doubt the church's teachings. It was blasphemy, after all, to consider multiple deities, or to put a face to the idea of God. It was certainly not permissible to practice astrology, and the ideas of reincarnation and karma were completely out of the question.

As far as the Catholics were concerned, every human being on the planet had screwed up just by having been born, and we had to beg forgiveness by paying off the church to get on the guest list in heaven. Lutherans were less hardcore, but every church benefits heavily through the practice of tithing--giving a portion of your income to the church, usually 10% per year. They claim that God likes it when we do this. My question is, does God care? I would think that with God being God, material goods are insignificant, especially when it comes to paper with numbers and Presidents' faces printed on it that is only worth squat because the recipient also thinks so.

So many aspects of Christianity seemed hokey to me; not the basic premise, not the big idea, but the details--although those details were rather significant. However littered with eggshells the floor was, I gingerly stepped forward and considered alternatives. First, I explored Judaism, primarily because in our area, it was a visible and sizeable alternative. Many of the people I went to school with were Jewish, so it readily came to mind. I liked the idea that they acknowledged Jesus the Prophet but not necessarily his divinity. Hanukkah was also easy to swallow, being around Christmastime. It was cool because it lasted 8 days, not just 1-2. I made a Star of David in art class and put a small chain on it, wearing it daily as a pendant.

It wasn't long before that wore off, though. I didn't have any real Comparative Religion information readily at my disposal, and without being able to do any research, it's hard to participate. As I drifted into clinical depression, I became a darker person in general and thus my faith also diminished. I became more adamantly rebellious and started to ask the tough, pointed questions, dissatisfied with the lame-duck company line answers. I began to deny the existence of any God.

That didn't last long, either. If you possess capabilities of higher reasoning, it doesn't take long to simply look at the world around you or to reflect upon your life thus far and realize that the Higher Power (whatever you want to call it) is simply self-evident. My belief re-awakened, but it was different this time. Stronger. Deeper. More mature and genuine. It had evolved and ripened. It was mine. I knew something was there, and this time I knew it for myself, not because the Bible tells me so. I wasn't sure exactly what I was, but I figured that since I was now a believer again and I had no knowledge of any other alternatives, I was Christian.

Ten years later, in a Comparative Religion class, my jaw dropped open sometime during the first day. I stared at the sheet of Hindu characteristics/basic beliefs in front of me and turned to my now-husband: "dude. We're basically Hindu!" Although we weren't from India and we didn't wear turbans or saris and we didn't have our noses pierced, we shared the same beliefs and outlook on life. I got excited. I felt like I found my home. The class covered the other 4 major world religions (Buddhism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam). Buddhism was nice too, but it just wasn't the same. I had been lost from the git-go, having been spoiled at the beginning.

There are about as many opinions and viewpoints on different aspects of Hinduism as there are Hindus, and much of the real deal information is written in languages I'll never understand, so getting information was tough. The people themselves tend to live out of the way and not go out in public much, at least in our area, and I had no Hindu friends or nearby temples, so it was tough to get into a community. Sure, there were Indian grocery stores, but they tended not to open up to Westerners much. I later learned that the further removed Indian/Hindu generations in the west become from their mother country, the less accepted they are by their own people as genuine Hindus. They are seen as too "Americanized" or "westernized". Thus, as an English-only-speaking white girl who hadn't even the roundabout inlet of having married an Indian, I hadn't a prayer of actually getting accepted in the mainstream.

I still consider myself Hindu and I probably always will, but I began to seek out other alternatives as well, if for no other reason but to add. I felt like something was missing. Lack of community support was one reason, but not the only one. I felt like the faith was rather inaccessible, and that the only information readily available to whites was made such by people looking to capitalize on those in my situation. I have my doubts as to how trustworthy the information is and how genuine the messengers are. I don't think the spiritual supermarket professes outright lies, per se, but I'm fairly certain they're spinning the truth in their own ways.

Something inside me told me to revisit Buddhism. After having been enthralled with Hinduism, when nothing else could measure up, I hadn't been in a position to give Buddhism a fair shake. This time, I researched it more thoroughly and evaluated it for itself alone, without comparing it to anything else. I found that I liked it. I admired how it had spread, and though there were missionaries, there was no record of any wars breaking out over conversion or the refusal to do so. I also admired how as it spread to each area, each culture embraced the basic teachings and adapted them, melding them in with their own already-established customs, thus creating a unique hybrid brand of Buddhism. There are about as many ways to practice Buddhism as there are Buddhists, and none of them get all uppity about who is and who isn't a "real" Buddhist, no matter what race you are, what country you're from or what language you speak. Another aspect that really attracted me was that Buddhism is not exclusive; it's inclusive. This means that you don't have to give up any pre-existing religion in order to be a Buddhist. You can if you like, or you can overlay Buddhism and intertwine it with another faith.

It wasn't until we got more heavily involved in our wedding planning that the idea of Wicca became viable. Sure, it had crossed my mind before. My interest in witches had been piqued in high school, and it was early in my college career (ten years ago) that I took up reading on the subject, borrowing a book from my younger sister, who was a new Wiccan at that time. I really liked what it had to say. It was tough to wrap my head around the idea of twin Higher Powers, a Goddess and a God, but everything else was intriguing and very compatible with my own essence and the beliefs I held. Why I had not adopted the faith then I'll never know. Most likely, it just wasn't time yet. I had some interest in European culture, history, and religion, but not much. The whole Celt thing and Renaissance lore was my mother's territory, not mine. I was fond of it, but it wasn't as kindred to me.

Until a few months ago. My husband had mentioned an interest in Celtic traditions. He wasn't raised with any particular religion other than celebrating Christmas as a folk holiday with the ideas of presents and Santa Claus, and here I was a member of two Eastern religions already. Wedding plan input felt lopsided to me; I felt like I dominated all the ideas, so I really tried to incorporate the spirit of what he was drawn to into the ceremony alongside my own contributions.

The combination turned out really nice. Much nicer than I expected. Nobody really understood what we envisioned for our ceremony, but we could each see it clear as day. Everything became evident during the wedding and everything unknown resolved in peoples' minds. But something different had happened inside me; something had been stirred. By the time the wedding had passed, it was clinched: I would become a Wiccan apprentice.

I'm sure my family wonders why I so intensely sought a path outside of Christianity. My sister and I are the first ones to do this, and our extended family is rather large. I left Christianity because although I believe in Jesus and his teachings, I don't believe in his divinity or that his conception was immaculate, or that he was a child of God any more than the rest of us are, or that he was the savior. I don't believe in the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost. I don't believe that religion needs to revolve around attending a building every week or that doing so makes you a practitioner of that religion or a better person. I don't believe that the world is coming to an end or that God judges people or that only Christians will be saved while the rest of us roast in hell. I believe that there are negative predatory spirits or forces, but I don't believe in the Christian devil, per se. I don't believe that creation occurred 6000 years ago or that it happened in 7 days. I don't believe God is a bearded man in the sky, or even male in the first place. I don't believe you have to give a certain portion of your income to an organization to be a better person. I don't believe you sin the moment you're born, and I don't believe you have to be baptized to be legit. I don't believe that every child you have is a "star in your crown". I believe in reincarnation and that there are other lifetimes besides this one. I don't believe that people who swore to be celibate for the rest of their lives and forgo some of the deepest, most fulfiling relationships known to humankind are fully qualified to tell me how I should live. I don't think any other person is fully qualified to tell me how I should live.

I'll make those decisions myself. :)

i'm dreaming of a polite christmas

We had fun today. Our local Unitarian Universalist church service featured the first day of Hanukkah as its headliner, with the Winter Solstice and the approaching of Christmas as its auxiliary acts. We clapped and sang and shared the tears and joys of the congregation, and we came away having learned something, but most of all, with restored faith in our fellow human beings, which frequently rests on shaky ground.

Especially this time of year. I remember years of Christmas Past, when no matter how dominantly rudeness prevailed in society, everybody at least found enough decency in their souls to be cordial--even friendly--to perfect strangers during the few weeks leading up to Christmas. After all, it was a season of love, giving, family, sharing, and joy. It was a holiday, and even the run-of-the-mill disrespect took some time off. (As did the restaurants, an increasing number of which now refuse to close on Christmas or Thanksgiving, but since nothing is sacred anymore, what the hell. But that's another matter entirely.)

Indeed, nothing is sacred these days. Self-centered animalistic behavior is so entrenched in society that it has been hardwired into the fibers of our being. We have officially reverted back to toddler status, like three-year-olds who selfishly and defiantly proclaim, "me first." And instead of taking a holiday, rudeness and impatience with others crank up a few notches.

We try to cover it up, but no amount of huge inflatable Santa yard ornaments or 24-hour Christmas music on the radio or sleighbells incessantly jingling in the background of every "buy stuff...from us" commercial is going to fool anyone. Fat kids with chins full of melted chocolate slobber who mumble that "Santa brings me presents" as an answer when asked what Christmas means to them eventually grow up into sullen teenagers who can't for the life of them figure out why all their teen angst didn't evaporate when they unwrapped the spankin' new iPod Nano. Sure, we use fun phrases like "magic" and "this holiday season" and we sound all perky and rah-rah, but the fact is, the secular consumerist culture only encourages us to soar to new heights doing the same thing we do the rest of the year: shop.

Bit by bit, certain movements and interest groups have sought to remove all spiritual references and symbolism from "this holiday season", banning the word Christmas from their websites and stores, relegating their employees to wishing the customers an empty "Happy Holidays" instead. They kept Santa Claus, but only because at some pathetic point during my lifetime, he morphed from a Saint into a Bill Clinton-esque secular figure who wears shades and plays the sax. When all of the meaning full elements of whichever holiday(s) we choose to celebrate have been removed, what is left? A buying frenzy and nothing more, except maybe the empty promise that yet more accumulated Stuff will solve everything, somehow mending emaciated relationships or making us better people. Top secret: it won't.

The only thing that will make us better people and improve our lives is to treat each other with dignity and respect. Every single world religion encourages the observation of the Golden Rule in some way, shape, or form, and no, it does not involve acquiring gold. Do we need to inevitably trample over, shoot at, beat up, or punch out someone else for a Wii system? Must we cut across right in front of each other on the freeway? How do we like it when the cashier at the store continues his or her cellphone conversation instead of acknowledging his or her human existence? Oh, we don't? It's rude, we say? Then why do we do this to cashiers dozens of times a day? When you ignore someone or cut someone off on the road, causing them to brake to avoid hitting you or let the door close behind you in front of someone instead of holding it open for them, does that make the world a better place? Is it really that much extra effort to be the change that you wish to see in the world (special heads-up to the pushy, snotty teenage mall kiosk salespeople)?

Saddest of all, we seem to lose sight of this fundamental the most, at a time when we've historically celebrated the birth of Jesus. (For you Christians out there, Jesus was a man who lived a long time ago who railed against the mistreatment and disrespect of fellow humankind and idealized that we all would love each other no matter what our differences. Just in case you didn't actually know.)

Don't look at me, I'm not the Grinch here. The Grinch stole Christmas, and it was a cartoon. I'm just trying to give it back to you, and I'm for real. I'm trying harder to defend the Christmas and restore its original meaning and sentiment than most Christians out there, and I'm not even Christian myself. Our Unitarian Universalist church is right: the human spirit and true happiness do not start with Sony, Visa, or iPod. They start with each of us. They start with you.