Watching the early evening news yesterday, there was a late-breaking news flash that David Letterman would be revealing to his audience that he had been blackmailed for having sex with employees. I was heartbroken. I’m not star-struck by any stretch of the imagination, I hold most celebutards in very low regard. In other words, fame don’t impress me much. But I am a rabid and unshakable Letterman fan, and have been since back in the day in Indy. Leno’s just not funny, Carson’s dead, and I’m too old to stay up for Fallon. Letterman is, and always will be the one for me. He always jokes about his looks, but that man has the sexiest brain I’ve ever seen! His intelligence is stark-raving sexy. I also always admired his private handling of his private life. I admired that he wasn’t one who was chasing the camera. I adore him for not taking himself too seriously, and his sly ability to let us know that we, in fact, should. His comic timing, impeccable delivery, razor sharp wit – all good. Needless to say, I was heartbroken to think that someone whom I so admired was going to be revealed to be just so mundane and ordinary. I decided I had to stay up late to see what he had to say before I had my opinion influenced by media or acquaintance.
I am SO glad I did.
I thought he handled the whole thing with perfect, self-effacing aplomb, and just the right note of “Why is this a big deal? So I had sex!”. Perfectly pre-empting a huge, ridiculous scandal by taking control of the situation and telling his own business first. The man had sex with female staffers. It’s not like he kidnapped a 15 year old and kept her in an underground bunker for 20 years. He had relations with women. Why is that creepy? He was never even married until this year!
Of course the media HAS to find a way to spin this ugly. The first thing I’m reading is people are shocked that the audience was laughing. Well of COURSE they were, he was being funny! They stopped laughing at just the appropriate moment, when HE got serious. Instead of coming out there and quivering and crying like Jimmy Swaggart, he came out and said “so what”. I noticed he made no apologies for his actions. Personally, I believe none is required. And I am hard-core feminist all the way, baby. But that feminism allows room for empowering women to have the sex they want to have, as much as being outraged over women being forced to have sex they DON'T want to have!
I haven’t read anything today that indicates Letterman forced women to have sex with him in order to garner promotions or other work-related favor. It seems more like consentual sex between grown adults. Ergo, not creepy. Even if it was a quickie in a closet –Hello? HOT, not creepy! (Notice it wasn’t any of the women doing the blackmailing)
Look, folks, we re-elected Bill Clinton after he blew the whoremonica, for chrissakes. Let’s not turn Dave into a pariah. Unless evidence is revealed that David engaged in anything other than just bein’ a playa, I remain a fan.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Still Don't Feel Like a College Student, I Feel Like a Third-grader!
Eeeek. Had my first Math class today. (late start in semester). I'm back in 3rd grade all over again. Just the WORD "division" makes me sweaty, and not in a good way. In my entire adult life, I have NEVER referred to any number as a “quotient”, a “divisor” or a “dividend”. YUUUUUUUUCK!
I clearly remember grade school, when we got to multiplication tables. It was the very first time I wasn’t the star pupil. The first time I ever struggled in school. I remember being so confused and surprised that I couldn’t memorize this stuff! I actually had to go sit in the back of the class by myself until I could memorize it, and I was so embarrassed. I felt very alone, and left behind. I did manage to learn the 1-2-3-4-5’s, those were easy and logical. I also managed to learn the 9’s because of a trick the teacher taught us. The 10-11-12’s were also easy to memorize. But to this day, with a gun to my head, I cannot multiply by 6, 7, or 8 in my head. Complete block. Couldn’t memorize the table, and I can’t visualize the math in my head like I can the others.
But if multiplication was the beginning of my difficulty, division was the absolute end of me. Long division on paper makes me crazy. I try to concentrate, but my mind just slips off of it like bare feet off a slippery river rock. I just cannot grab hold of it. It’s like trying to hold jello that’s not quite set yet. Today’s math homework involved long division, and I was instantly transported back in time to my 10-year-old self. My attention wandering, sitting slumped in my little chair at my little desk in my bedroom. Staring at my Barbie dolls which I’d much rather be playing with, fiddling with my radio, tapping my pencil, just lost. I was right there again. 35 years later. Except now the Barbie dolls are replaced by my dogs, and the radio is Facebook on my computer.
I hate math. Hate it, hate it, hate it, and the bitter irony of my life is that I’m a bookkeeper for a living. Go figure. (pun intended). But I’m aware of my limitations when it comes to math, and at work I triple-check my numbers – with a calculator! Hello?!!?!. Besides, bookkeeping is about “minding the money”, not just adding random numbers for no reason. And I llllove money, so I’m like a dog with a bone and I reconcile the accounts to the penny. But I have computer programs to do the math. I don’t have to do it all in my head!!
See, Mom. I told you so. When I said I’m never going to have to use this stuff after I get out of school, I was right! Gimme a calculator, and I’m your girl. If I gotta do it in my head, I might as well go to the unemployment office right now.
I clearly remember grade school, when we got to multiplication tables. It was the very first time I wasn’t the star pupil. The first time I ever struggled in school. I remember being so confused and surprised that I couldn’t memorize this stuff! I actually had to go sit in the back of the class by myself until I could memorize it, and I was so embarrassed. I felt very alone, and left behind. I did manage to learn the 1-2-3-4-5’s, those were easy and logical. I also managed to learn the 9’s because of a trick the teacher taught us. The 10-11-12’s were also easy to memorize. But to this day, with a gun to my head, I cannot multiply by 6, 7, or 8 in my head. Complete block. Couldn’t memorize the table, and I can’t visualize the math in my head like I can the others.
But if multiplication was the beginning of my difficulty, division was the absolute end of me. Long division on paper makes me crazy. I try to concentrate, but my mind just slips off of it like bare feet off a slippery river rock. I just cannot grab hold of it. It’s like trying to hold jello that’s not quite set yet. Today’s math homework involved long division, and I was instantly transported back in time to my 10-year-old self. My attention wandering, sitting slumped in my little chair at my little desk in my bedroom. Staring at my Barbie dolls which I’d much rather be playing with, fiddling with my radio, tapping my pencil, just lost. I was right there again. 35 years later. Except now the Barbie dolls are replaced by my dogs, and the radio is Facebook on my computer.
I hate math. Hate it, hate it, hate it, and the bitter irony of my life is that I’m a bookkeeper for a living. Go figure. (pun intended). But I’m aware of my limitations when it comes to math, and at work I triple-check my numbers – with a calculator! Hello?!!?!. Besides, bookkeeping is about “minding the money”, not just adding random numbers for no reason. And I llllove money, so I’m like a dog with a bone and I reconcile the accounts to the penny. But I have computer programs to do the math. I don’t have to do it all in my head!!
See, Mom. I told you so. When I said I’m never going to have to use this stuff after I get out of school, I was right! Gimme a calculator, and I’m your girl. If I gotta do it in my head, I might as well go to the unemployment office right now.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Ok Leaf, Time for You to Turn Over.
I’ve been feeling pretty damn sorry for myself lately. I’m not saying I didn’t deserve a little wallowing-in-self-pity. A lot of stuff has been pretty shitty for the last half-year or so. But I have some wonderful, awesome and amazing girlfriends who have propped me up with love and support and kind words, and it’s time for me to start looking outside myself again. Expand my energies upwards and outwards. Time to turn over a new leaf.
It is my 45th birthday. I think that’s an appropriate time to think about fresh starts, new beginnings, opening doors and closing chapters. I have removed a lot of the obstacles I blamed for holding me back. Like a bad marriage to a good man, and a lack of education. Now, I have no one to blame but myself if I remain unhappy, unhealthy, overweight and unfulfilled. I better put my money where my mouth is.
Several weeks ago, (okay, it’s been more like two months…), I said I was going to shut up and listen to the Universe for guidance. I was “awaiting further instructions”. I was on the verge of a real mental breakdown. Too much stress for too long a time, a lot of it self-wrought. I have a very good habit of seeing mishaps coming down the road, and taking steps to avert them. I have a very BAD habit of second-guessing myself and thinking, “Well, but then if I do that, then THIS will happen” and completely changing my mind. So I create much of my own stress by trying to be perfect and create perfection, and I become paralyzed with indecision. One of the things I “heard” while listening to the Universe, is that nothing will ever be perfect. Shit is going to happen. So make a decision, choose a path and stick with it. Whatever mishaps occur I’ll just have to deal with them as they come. I cannot avoid every possible mistake or bad decision. Perserverence means pushing through those mistakes and carrying on. I’m not superwoman. I don’t have to be perfect.
Another of the very first things I “heard while listening”, was the Voice from the Universe asking me about leaving my marriage, “Are you sure? Is this really what you want?”. I thought back at Him, “Yes, of course it’s what I really want! How can You even ask me that?” (He does, after all, know what’s in our hearts, right?). The Voice thought back, “Then let go of the guilt”. This one is difficult, and it will take more work. More tears. More prayer. More contemplative solitude. More mourning.
Another thing I “heard”, this time while listening to Eric Clapton’s version of “Tore Down”, was a very deep homesickness for Indianapolis, for home, for making and playing music, for playing in a band, and for the girl I used to be. It’s too early to tell, I don’t want to make any more life-changing decisions while I’m still awhirl from the changes going on NOW, but maybe I’m supposed to go back to Indy. Maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a desire for something familiar, since I’m in such UN-familiar territory right now. But it was definitely a pull. I longed to be sitting in my favorite bar in the world, The Slippery Noodle Inn, listening to live blues, yacking with my homegirls who I miss terribly. I miss real Autumn weather, too. There’s something about the smell of Autumn, the smell of decaying leaves, of fertile rain-soaked soil, of fireplaces, mown grass... There’s nothing like it here in Phoenix, that’s for sure. All I smell here is dust and pollution and dry dead things. We’ll see. For now I’ve got a killer job here, and I’ve started school here, so I’ll stick it out a little longer.
I also “heard”, because someone pointed it out to me, that I can’t let myself relax. Going back a couple paragraphs to the worrying about every damn thing - I also keep everything that I’m worrying about active in the front of my mind because I’m afraid I’m going to forget something. I try to be hyper-vigilant. I must control everything. I cannot drop the ball. If I leave work on Friday afternoon, and there’s something that I need to do first thing Monday morning, I will worry about it the entire weekend. I will keep it as an active thought in the front of my head until I can put that thought back down when I get to work Monday. I can’t allow myself to put something on the “back burner”, so to speak, because I’m terrified if I take my eye off the ball, I’m going to lose control of it. So I worry, actively thinking about everything I’m worried about, all the time, everyday, 24-7. At any given time, I can be worrying about getting my laundry done, getting payroll done at work, finding the money to get my dogs groomed, remembering to buy that birthday card and get it in the mail, remembering to buy stamps too, how to deal with the cricket infestation in my backyard, needing to get invoicing done, hoping none of my neighbors realize my garage door opener is broken and the garage door is not locked and anyone can come and rip me off, worrying about my dogs being bored being locked up for 9 hours a day while I’m at work, worrying about that nagging little pain in my chest, and it just goes on and on and on…and all these thoughts are ACTIVE in the front of my mind, jostling for prominence. It’s crazy-making! So, the new leaf here is “Letting go and Letting God”. I can only do what I can do. I just need to set my priorities, do what I can do, and The Universe will take care of the rest. If I drop the ball, someone else will pick it up, and so it is meant to be.
I’m learning if I clear my mind of all this clutter, I’ve made room for new intuitions. If I quiet my mind, I can hear The Voice. I’ve freed myself from being stuck, spinning my rear wheels in the mud, and I can get traction on moving forward. There’s peace and joy in letting go, being messy and imperfect!
So...some people are suggesting this is all just a Mid-Life Crisis. Why is that a bad thing? I’ve seen other people call it a Mid-Life Re-evaluation. I’m going to adopt that attitude. Crises can bring about change. It’s an opportunity for growth, for change for the better. If I choose this time to learn from the past, learn from listening to The Voice, take care of self FIRST and the rest second, I can move forward. The writing on the underside of that freshly turned leaf reads: “Peace, Love and Harmony…in Mind, Body and Spirit”. I’m going to mark the occasion of the opening of the second, better, wiser half of my life with a tattoo: “Constance 2.0”.
It is my 45th birthday. I think that’s an appropriate time to think about fresh starts, new beginnings, opening doors and closing chapters. I have removed a lot of the obstacles I blamed for holding me back. Like a bad marriage to a good man, and a lack of education. Now, I have no one to blame but myself if I remain unhappy, unhealthy, overweight and unfulfilled. I better put my money where my mouth is.
Several weeks ago, (okay, it’s been more like two months…), I said I was going to shut up and listen to the Universe for guidance. I was “awaiting further instructions”. I was on the verge of a real mental breakdown. Too much stress for too long a time, a lot of it self-wrought. I have a very good habit of seeing mishaps coming down the road, and taking steps to avert them. I have a very BAD habit of second-guessing myself and thinking, “Well, but then if I do that, then THIS will happen” and completely changing my mind. So I create much of my own stress by trying to be perfect and create perfection, and I become paralyzed with indecision. One of the things I “heard” while listening to the Universe, is that nothing will ever be perfect. Shit is going to happen. So make a decision, choose a path and stick with it. Whatever mishaps occur I’ll just have to deal with them as they come. I cannot avoid every possible mistake or bad decision. Perserverence means pushing through those mistakes and carrying on. I’m not superwoman. I don’t have to be perfect.
Another of the very first things I “heard while listening”, was the Voice from the Universe asking me about leaving my marriage, “Are you sure? Is this really what you want?”. I thought back at Him, “Yes, of course it’s what I really want! How can You even ask me that?” (He does, after all, know what’s in our hearts, right?). The Voice thought back, “Then let go of the guilt”. This one is difficult, and it will take more work. More tears. More prayer. More contemplative solitude. More mourning.
Another thing I “heard”, this time while listening to Eric Clapton’s version of “Tore Down”, was a very deep homesickness for Indianapolis, for home, for making and playing music, for playing in a band, and for the girl I used to be. It’s too early to tell, I don’t want to make any more life-changing decisions while I’m still awhirl from the changes going on NOW, but maybe I’m supposed to go back to Indy. Maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a desire for something familiar, since I’m in such UN-familiar territory right now. But it was definitely a pull. I longed to be sitting in my favorite bar in the world, The Slippery Noodle Inn, listening to live blues, yacking with my homegirls who I miss terribly. I miss real Autumn weather, too. There’s something about the smell of Autumn, the smell of decaying leaves, of fertile rain-soaked soil, of fireplaces, mown grass... There’s nothing like it here in Phoenix, that’s for sure. All I smell here is dust and pollution and dry dead things. We’ll see. For now I’ve got a killer job here, and I’ve started school here, so I’ll stick it out a little longer.
I also “heard”, because someone pointed it out to me, that I can’t let myself relax. Going back a couple paragraphs to the worrying about every damn thing - I also keep everything that I’m worrying about active in the front of my mind because I’m afraid I’m going to forget something. I try to be hyper-vigilant. I must control everything. I cannot drop the ball. If I leave work on Friday afternoon, and there’s something that I need to do first thing Monday morning, I will worry about it the entire weekend. I will keep it as an active thought in the front of my head until I can put that thought back down when I get to work Monday. I can’t allow myself to put something on the “back burner”, so to speak, because I’m terrified if I take my eye off the ball, I’m going to lose control of it. So I worry, actively thinking about everything I’m worried about, all the time, everyday, 24-7. At any given time, I can be worrying about getting my laundry done, getting payroll done at work, finding the money to get my dogs groomed, remembering to buy that birthday card and get it in the mail, remembering to buy stamps too, how to deal with the cricket infestation in my backyard, needing to get invoicing done, hoping none of my neighbors realize my garage door opener is broken and the garage door is not locked and anyone can come and rip me off, worrying about my dogs being bored being locked up for 9 hours a day while I’m at work, worrying about that nagging little pain in my chest, and it just goes on and on and on…and all these thoughts are ACTIVE in the front of my mind, jostling for prominence. It’s crazy-making! So, the new leaf here is “Letting go and Letting God”. I can only do what I can do. I just need to set my priorities, do what I can do, and The Universe will take care of the rest. If I drop the ball, someone else will pick it up, and so it is meant to be.
I’m learning if I clear my mind of all this clutter, I’ve made room for new intuitions. If I quiet my mind, I can hear The Voice. I’ve freed myself from being stuck, spinning my rear wheels in the mud, and I can get traction on moving forward. There’s peace and joy in letting go, being messy and imperfect!
So...some people are suggesting this is all just a Mid-Life Crisis. Why is that a bad thing? I’ve seen other people call it a Mid-Life Re-evaluation. I’m going to adopt that attitude. Crises can bring about change. It’s an opportunity for growth, for change for the better. If I choose this time to learn from the past, learn from listening to The Voice, take care of self FIRST and the rest second, I can move forward. The writing on the underside of that freshly turned leaf reads: “Peace, Love and Harmony…in Mind, Body and Spirit”. I’m going to mark the occasion of the opening of the second, better, wiser half of my life with a tattoo: “Constance 2.0”.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Hm. I don't FEEL like a College Student yet...
...although the financial aid debt load I just incurred assures me I am. But while I don't feel like a college student, I sure as hell feel smarter than I did 3 days ago! Sadly, that’s not because I learned a staggering amount of information this week, but because compared to the kids surrounding me in my first two classes, (and the first two instructors I met), I'm a flippin' GENIUS! I have never seen so much apathy and pathetic disinterest so densely concentrated in one room since.....well, since the last time I got naked in front of a date...but that's a story for another day.
Just 4 days shy of my 45th birthday, I embarked on my collegiate journey this week. I've sooo been looking forward to this, all summer long. I enrolled last April, made plans, asked advice, purchased books, even rearranged my home to create a quiet study nook...I hungered for learning, and expanding my mind. I had visions of raging debates over WEIGHTY AND IMPORTANT ISSUES! I yearned for wild-eyed professors, thumping fists against blackboards, frothing at the mouth, shouting heretofore undiscovered truths for my eager mind to absorb. These visions inspired me to forge ahead despite great trepidation over my cripplingly advance age. Would my age-addled brain be able to grasp new concepts? Would I fit in with the cool kids? Would the chairs be big enough for my fat ass? All grave concerns, but the fire of my desire for higher learning could not be doused! Damn the Torpedoes, Full Speed Ahead!
So much energy wasted worrying and wondering and imagining...all for naught. If it weren't so pathetic it would be funny.
Yesterday evening, I walked into the first class of my shiny new college career. I actually had butterflies in my stomach. I knew there would be many young people, but I dared to hope I wouldn't be the OLDEST person there. Not only was I the oldest student, I was also older than the instructor. (I’m betting the ink on her birth certificate isn’t even dry yet, never mind the ink on her degree!)
Despite my fervor, even I knew this course, entitled “Creating College Success”, was a gimme. Just a revenue stream for the institution. I suppose I can’t fault them for that. But still, I imagined eager and bright individuals ready to give discourse and to opine…instead there were colored folders and Crayola markers. Seriously. And just in case you were wondering, apparently the key to success in college is journaling. Huh! WHO KNEW?!
There was a self-assessment test, comprised of 64 statements to which we assigned a numeric value from 0 to 10 to indicate how strongly we agreed or disagreed. This was designed to help us discover our strengths and weaknesses. Notice I said “self” assessment. One kid leaned over to another and said, “Dude, I’m copying off of you!”. I guess he didn’t like his own assessment! How in the hell do you copy someone else on a self assessment? Please! Afterwards, we were to add up our scores by adding up the numbers in groups of 4. One kid actually pulled out his calculator because it was just too difficult. I SHIT YOU NOT! Then the instructor gave us our homework for next week. We were to read pages 18 to 21 in the textbook. Mind you, I said pages 18 to 21, not chapters, pages. I heard a kid behind me say, “Whoa! Dude!” I spun around expecting Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High! I thought he was joking! He was not. He was indignant. I’m thinking “DUDE! It’s FOUR FREAKIN’ PAGES and you have 7 DAYS TO GET IT DONE!!” I came home last night utterly disappointed, devastated and bereft of dreams, clinging desperately to a small dying ember of hope. Hope that tonight’s class, a REAL college course - Sociology101 - would redeem and restore. Alas ‘twas not to be.
Tonight, in Sociology, we went over the syllabus, and when finished the instructor asked US if we thought we should we stay or go home! I thought perhaps he might be conducting a Social Experiment, after all this was Sociology. At the very least a trick question to separate the slackers from the studious, to see who’d say stay and who’d say go. One girl said, “I vote ‘GO’ after I ask a question”. She asked her question, he answered and then SENT US HOME. I nearly fainted from the massive blood loss as the color drained from my face. My eager anticipation turned to slack-jawed horror when I realized he was serious. “I’VE BEEN ROBBED”, my mind screamed! “WHERE’S MY DEBATING? WHERE’S MY SOAKING UP KNOWLEDGE? WHERE’S MY GODDAMN BOOK-LARNIN’!!!! AAAARGH!”
What a sad state of affairs. Have the instructors sucked up apathy by osmosis? Did they ever give a crap at all, or was the caring beat out of them by the endless, shuffling, staring horde of non-responsive, catatonic teenagers who rotate through these classes, willing to do just enough to get a passing grade. Not necessarily there to learn, just to get a passing grade. In both classes, while reviewing the syllabus, more than one student asked questions like: “When you say paragraph, how many sentences do you require?” “If I journal for extra credit, how many lines do I need to write every day? Will three lines do? Is that three LINES or three SENTENCES?” God save us, these Twittering zombies are going to be our doctors, our teachers, our politicians. I’m grateful I’m half in my grave already, because I am afraid for our future.
I am, however, thrilled about all of the blog content I shall amass during the next four years. This is going to rock entirely. I thought I’d stick out like a (fat) sore thumb because of my age, but it looks like I’m going to stick out because I’m not afraid of SENTENCES. Woot!
Just 4 days shy of my 45th birthday, I embarked on my collegiate journey this week. I've sooo been looking forward to this, all summer long. I enrolled last April, made plans, asked advice, purchased books, even rearranged my home to create a quiet study nook...I hungered for learning, and expanding my mind. I had visions of raging debates over WEIGHTY AND IMPORTANT ISSUES! I yearned for wild-eyed professors, thumping fists against blackboards, frothing at the mouth, shouting heretofore undiscovered truths for my eager mind to absorb. These visions inspired me to forge ahead despite great trepidation over my cripplingly advance age. Would my age-addled brain be able to grasp new concepts? Would I fit in with the cool kids? Would the chairs be big enough for my fat ass? All grave concerns, but the fire of my desire for higher learning could not be doused! Damn the Torpedoes, Full Speed Ahead!
So much energy wasted worrying and wondering and imagining...all for naught. If it weren't so pathetic it would be funny.
Yesterday evening, I walked into the first class of my shiny new college career. I actually had butterflies in my stomach. I knew there would be many young people, but I dared to hope I wouldn't be the OLDEST person there. Not only was I the oldest student, I was also older than the instructor. (I’m betting the ink on her birth certificate isn’t even dry yet, never mind the ink on her degree!)
Despite my fervor, even I knew this course, entitled “Creating College Success”, was a gimme. Just a revenue stream for the institution. I suppose I can’t fault them for that. But still, I imagined eager and bright individuals ready to give discourse and to opine…instead there were colored folders and Crayola markers. Seriously. And just in case you were wondering, apparently the key to success in college is journaling. Huh! WHO KNEW?!
There was a self-assessment test, comprised of 64 statements to which we assigned a numeric value from 0 to 10 to indicate how strongly we agreed or disagreed. This was designed to help us discover our strengths and weaknesses. Notice I said “self” assessment. One kid leaned over to another and said, “Dude, I’m copying off of you!”. I guess he didn’t like his own assessment! How in the hell do you copy someone else on a self assessment? Please! Afterwards, we were to add up our scores by adding up the numbers in groups of 4. One kid actually pulled out his calculator because it was just too difficult. I SHIT YOU NOT! Then the instructor gave us our homework for next week. We were to read pages 18 to 21 in the textbook. Mind you, I said pages 18 to 21, not chapters, pages. I heard a kid behind me say, “Whoa! Dude!” I spun around expecting Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High! I thought he was joking! He was not. He was indignant. I’m thinking “DUDE! It’s FOUR FREAKIN’ PAGES and you have 7 DAYS TO GET IT DONE!!” I came home last night utterly disappointed, devastated and bereft of dreams, clinging desperately to a small dying ember of hope. Hope that tonight’s class, a REAL college course - Sociology101 - would redeem and restore. Alas ‘twas not to be.
Tonight, in Sociology, we went over the syllabus, and when finished the instructor asked US if we thought we should we stay or go home! I thought perhaps he might be conducting a Social Experiment, after all this was Sociology. At the very least a trick question to separate the slackers from the studious, to see who’d say stay and who’d say go. One girl said, “I vote ‘GO’ after I ask a question”. She asked her question, he answered and then SENT US HOME. I nearly fainted from the massive blood loss as the color drained from my face. My eager anticipation turned to slack-jawed horror when I realized he was serious. “I’VE BEEN ROBBED”, my mind screamed! “WHERE’S MY DEBATING? WHERE’S MY SOAKING UP KNOWLEDGE? WHERE’S MY GODDAMN BOOK-LARNIN’!!!! AAAARGH!”
What a sad state of affairs. Have the instructors sucked up apathy by osmosis? Did they ever give a crap at all, or was the caring beat out of them by the endless, shuffling, staring horde of non-responsive, catatonic teenagers who rotate through these classes, willing to do just enough to get a passing grade. Not necessarily there to learn, just to get a passing grade. In both classes, while reviewing the syllabus, more than one student asked questions like: “When you say paragraph, how many sentences do you require?” “If I journal for extra credit, how many lines do I need to write every day? Will three lines do? Is that three LINES or three SENTENCES?” God save us, these Twittering zombies are going to be our doctors, our teachers, our politicians. I’m grateful I’m half in my grave already, because I am afraid for our future.
I am, however, thrilled about all of the blog content I shall amass during the next four years. This is going to rock entirely. I thought I’d stick out like a (fat) sore thumb because of my age, but it looks like I’m going to stick out because I’m not afraid of SENTENCES. Woot!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Hmm. Turns Out God's Stronger than I Thought.
I have been fighting and fighting to exert my will over my own life, and the universe just keeps pushing me back. These last few months it’s been shocking how many things have gone wrong, how many of my plans get turned upside down. Every path blocked, every idea shot down, every obstacle pretty durn near to the edge of my ability to scale it. Relentless disappointment, mean-spirited people saying mean-spirited things to me, every plan I’ve made in the last two months has been changed or abandoned due to circumstances I can’t control. But I’m tenacious. (You might call it stubborn.) I don’t back down easily. I don’t cave in without a damn good fight.
I won’t go into a litany of things that have gone wrong, but I will tell you tonight was the last straw. The very last thing that was working right – stopped.
And while I sat waiting for the tow truck, I was nearly in shock. I could not believe the car died. Right there in the middle of the road. The one thing I could count on: my trusty Nissan Minivan. We were idling at the light, and it just…died. Quit. Wouldn’t start up again. No reason. No reason other than to fuck with my head. I just turned inward and asked “Why? WHAT is the universe trying to tell me? Why am I being blocked at every turn? Why is every plan being stripped away, and every support kicked out from under me?” I cursed the universe for being so Goddamn un-yielding, for pushing and pushing, and cock-blocking me at every turn.
And when I said to myself it IS too strong, I CAN’T fight, I finally got it! I finally understood. God WANTS me to stop moving, stop thinking, stop planning, stop struggling, stop fighting to exert my will, and just shut-up and LISTEN.
And an awesome thing happened. The moment, I mean the very moment, I thought to myself, “Ok, that’s it. I’m going to stop everything for 7 days. I’m going to just go with the flow. I’m not going to think, or stress, or plan, or control, or want. I’m going to stop and listen.” I felt a relaxing in my head. I can’t explain it, but I literally FELT the tension drain from my face, from my jaw. I felt a smile coming on. I felt like a vise was being loosened from around my chest.
So in effect, I did throw up my hands and give up, just like I wished for in my last post. I have reached that point where I just don’t know what to do next. I can’t do it anymore. I opted out of the nervous breakdown, though, and decided instead to “Let go and Let God”. Just to see what happens. Obviously He was working very hard to get my attention. So I’m listening. It likely won’t be anything earth-shattering. Probably won’t even make sense to anyone but me.
It’s like I’m being told to “await further instructions”. So I’ll wait. 7 days.
I won’t go into a litany of things that have gone wrong, but I will tell you tonight was the last straw. The very last thing that was working right – stopped.
And while I sat waiting for the tow truck, I was nearly in shock. I could not believe the car died. Right there in the middle of the road. The one thing I could count on: my trusty Nissan Minivan. We were idling at the light, and it just…died. Quit. Wouldn’t start up again. No reason. No reason other than to fuck with my head. I just turned inward and asked “Why? WHAT is the universe trying to tell me? Why am I being blocked at every turn? Why is every plan being stripped away, and every support kicked out from under me?” I cursed the universe for being so Goddamn un-yielding, for pushing and pushing, and cock-blocking me at every turn.
And when I said to myself it IS too strong, I CAN’T fight, I finally got it! I finally understood. God WANTS me to stop moving, stop thinking, stop planning, stop struggling, stop fighting to exert my will, and just shut-up and LISTEN.
And an awesome thing happened. The moment, I mean the very moment, I thought to myself, “Ok, that’s it. I’m going to stop everything for 7 days. I’m going to just go with the flow. I’m not going to think, or stress, or plan, or control, or want. I’m going to stop and listen.” I felt a relaxing in my head. I can’t explain it, but I literally FELT the tension drain from my face, from my jaw. I felt a smile coming on. I felt like a vise was being loosened from around my chest.
So in effect, I did throw up my hands and give up, just like I wished for in my last post. I have reached that point where I just don’t know what to do next. I can’t do it anymore. I opted out of the nervous breakdown, though, and decided instead to “Let go and Let God”. Just to see what happens. Obviously He was working very hard to get my attention. So I’m listening. It likely won’t be anything earth-shattering. Probably won’t even make sense to anyone but me.
It’s like I’m being told to “await further instructions”. So I’ll wait. 7 days.
Crazy: Weighing the Pros and Cons of the Modern Nervous Breakdown.
(I originally posted this last Monday, the 15th of June, and then got up in the middle of the night to delete it because I thought it was just a little too close to the red zone on the crazy meter. But I'm going to post it now, because it's gotten just soooo much worse since then!!) Here goes:
Wouldn't it be a delicious relief to calmly lie down on the floor, in the middle of a crowded room, and just give up? Just say, "I can't do it anymore. I'm NOT doing it anymore. Someone else needs to steer the ship, because I......(pause for effect).....am heading straight for the iceberg." Perhaps, just to drive home the point extra convincingly, I could do this while wearing a pair of giant, white Mickey Mouse gloves...and nothing else.
What divine peace awaits on the other side of the crazy barrier?
Think about it! How luxurious it would be to throw up one's hands, and relinquish all responsibility. Lying in a hospital bed, curled into a comfy fetal postion, watching TV. No more worrying about all the things everyone else needs from me. Don’t have to worry about paying bills, or trying to make a living, don’t have to worry about my dogs, or losing 100 lbs, or health insurance, or what my hair looks like, or how to get rid of the ants and crickets in the back yard, or maintaining the one car we have, or how I'm going to get my father-in-law to his doctor appointment without pissing off my boss. Hell - there'd be no more worrying about pleasing my boss at all! Maybe if I just go stark, raving, apeshit, face-twitching crazy - he'll see one person can't do 3 people's jobs.
No more decisions. No more feeling guilty because no matter how much I do, there's twice as much NOT done. No more taking care of anything, or anyone, the state would have to take care of ME! No trying to figure out what to fix for dinner that will please everyone in my super-picky family. No need to decide what to make MYSELF for dinner - nurses would bring me food! And the dishes would be magically whisked away, ELSEWHERE, to be washed.
I wouldn’t even have to get up to use the bathroom...they've invented BEDPANS! YEAH!!!!
I would be deliciously medicated and numb. Cruising Stonerville all day long. Modern medicine has given us a cornucopia of mind-erasing drugs. Maybe if I'm crazy enough, they'll double my dosage. The twitching and drooling would slowly ease, to be replaced by tranquility, a vacant stare and a vapid smile. You would think I'm looking at you, but I'm really asleep with my eyes open. I wouldn't even know you're there, let alone care.
Ahh, blissfull, worry-free, breakdown-induced craziness. I would have all the troubles, drama and responsibilities of a vegetable.
The downside? I'd BE a vegetable.
That's a big downside.
So I suppose, if this were an actual conversation with someone, this is where they'd say, "That which doesn't kill us serves to make us stronger", or, "God doesn't give us a heavier load than we can bear". That IS a load. Of crap. Sometimes I need to be the not-so-strong one.
Yeah, yeah, I know...yadda, yadda, yadda, I am woman, hear me roar. Just please listen carefully, and know the difference between a roar of triumph, and a wail of despair.
Wouldn't it be a delicious relief to calmly lie down on the floor, in the middle of a crowded room, and just give up? Just say, "I can't do it anymore. I'm NOT doing it anymore. Someone else needs to steer the ship, because I......(pause for effect).....am heading straight for the iceberg." Perhaps, just to drive home the point extra convincingly, I could do this while wearing a pair of giant, white Mickey Mouse gloves...and nothing else.
What divine peace awaits on the other side of the crazy barrier?
Think about it! How luxurious it would be to throw up one's hands, and relinquish all responsibility. Lying in a hospital bed, curled into a comfy fetal postion, watching TV. No more worrying about all the things everyone else needs from me. Don’t have to worry about paying bills, or trying to make a living, don’t have to worry about my dogs, or losing 100 lbs, or health insurance, or what my hair looks like, or how to get rid of the ants and crickets in the back yard, or maintaining the one car we have, or how I'm going to get my father-in-law to his doctor appointment without pissing off my boss. Hell - there'd be no more worrying about pleasing my boss at all! Maybe if I just go stark, raving, apeshit, face-twitching crazy - he'll see one person can't do 3 people's jobs.
No more decisions. No more feeling guilty because no matter how much I do, there's twice as much NOT done. No more taking care of anything, or anyone, the state would have to take care of ME! No trying to figure out what to fix for dinner that will please everyone in my super-picky family. No need to decide what to make MYSELF for dinner - nurses would bring me food! And the dishes would be magically whisked away, ELSEWHERE, to be washed.
I wouldn’t even have to get up to use the bathroom...they've invented BEDPANS! YEAH!!!!
I would be deliciously medicated and numb. Cruising Stonerville all day long. Modern medicine has given us a cornucopia of mind-erasing drugs. Maybe if I'm crazy enough, they'll double my dosage. The twitching and drooling would slowly ease, to be replaced by tranquility, a vacant stare and a vapid smile. You would think I'm looking at you, but I'm really asleep with my eyes open. I wouldn't even know you're there, let alone care.
Ahh, blissfull, worry-free, breakdown-induced craziness. I would have all the troubles, drama and responsibilities of a vegetable.
The downside? I'd BE a vegetable.
That's a big downside.
So I suppose, if this were an actual conversation with someone, this is where they'd say, "That which doesn't kill us serves to make us stronger", or, "God doesn't give us a heavier load than we can bear". That IS a load. Of crap. Sometimes I need to be the not-so-strong one.
Yeah, yeah, I know...yadda, yadda, yadda, I am woman, hear me roar. Just please listen carefully, and know the difference between a roar of triumph, and a wail of despair.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
The 3rd, 4th and 5th Unexpected Surprising Things About Divorce.
The 3rd unexpected surprising thing about divorce is too intimate to put out into the universe, so I shall skip lightly over it to the 4th unexpected surprising thing about divorce; which is that no one is reacting the way I thought they would.
In fact, every last person is reacting exactly the opposite of how I imagined, including myself.
His family, who I imagined would hate me, or at the very least be angry with me, has unconditionally included me in their support. They're kind to me right alongside comforting him. Yes, when they look at me, there are questions in their eyes-but also compassion and care. I'm humbled by their love for me.
I expected my own parents, who are both seasoned veterans of divorce, would have rather a "C'est la vie" reponse to the news. You know, "Ah-you'll get over it and move on". My mother cried and my father got choked up. My mother even offered "help" should I need it. And my mom doesn't give up money without a DAMN.GOOD.REASON. My father quickly asked if I'd be moving back to Indiana. Didn't know he missed me that much!
And then there's he and me. I expected him to be shattered. Yes, he is hurting, but he is far from shattered. Within two hours of the decision, he was already looking to his future. Asking division-of-property type questions. Picturing his life without an "us", and starting to think about shaping his future. I expected myself to be relieved, and to escape unscathed emotionally. But I'm mourning much worse than I thought I would be. Deeply.
I also expected I'd have to beat feet outta here because he'd be emotionally hijacking me and trying to guilt me into staying. Again, not so. I thought it might be too much to hope for that we'd be able to work together to make sure this goes as smoothly as possible, that neither of us would be financially screwed when we're done. But that's exactly how it's turning out. I truly did not expect that. I never even considered the possibility. I take it as a sign from the universe - his not being as devastated as I thought he would be, and totally willing for us to work together - that this must be the right decision.
But it's not like we have anything to fight about, anyway. No children, one good car, one piece of shit car, and three dogs. Oh, and there's that 3 1/2 years left on the Chapter 13 bankruptcy due to my failed attempt at starting a business...and I've already taken ownership of that. That was my bad. So, why NOT be amicable about the whole thing? What's to fight over?
Needless to say, I'm very surprised at how completely I misjudged everyone's reactions, not the least of which being my own.
And the 5th unexpected surprising thing about divorce is a physical reaction I'm having. I am ravenously hungry. Once the initial shocked nausea abated, I've become hungry. My brain perceives a whole in my middle, an empty space, and must be trying to fill it with food. I'm craving milk. (That must mean something sub-consciously, but I'm too tired to try to figure it out.) Milk, and other very wholesome foods. I'm not after chocolate or ice cream, it's strange but I want salad and veggies and rice and chicken. Wholesome, hearty, healthy food.
Good LORD I'm a wack job. I'm sure I'm going to get wackier before I get better.
In fact, every last person is reacting exactly the opposite of how I imagined, including myself.
His family, who I imagined would hate me, or at the very least be angry with me, has unconditionally included me in their support. They're kind to me right alongside comforting him. Yes, when they look at me, there are questions in their eyes-but also compassion and care. I'm humbled by their love for me.
I expected my own parents, who are both seasoned veterans of divorce, would have rather a "C'est la vie" reponse to the news. You know, "Ah-you'll get over it and move on". My mother cried and my father got choked up. My mother even offered "help" should I need it. And my mom doesn't give up money without a DAMN.GOOD.REASON. My father quickly asked if I'd be moving back to Indiana. Didn't know he missed me that much!
And then there's he and me. I expected him to be shattered. Yes, he is hurting, but he is far from shattered. Within two hours of the decision, he was already looking to his future. Asking division-of-property type questions. Picturing his life without an "us", and starting to think about shaping his future. I expected myself to be relieved, and to escape unscathed emotionally. But I'm mourning much worse than I thought I would be. Deeply.
I also expected I'd have to beat feet outta here because he'd be emotionally hijacking me and trying to guilt me into staying. Again, not so. I thought it might be too much to hope for that we'd be able to work together to make sure this goes as smoothly as possible, that neither of us would be financially screwed when we're done. But that's exactly how it's turning out. I truly did not expect that. I never even considered the possibility. I take it as a sign from the universe - his not being as devastated as I thought he would be, and totally willing for us to work together - that this must be the right decision.
But it's not like we have anything to fight about, anyway. No children, one good car, one piece of shit car, and three dogs. Oh, and there's that 3 1/2 years left on the Chapter 13 bankruptcy due to my failed attempt at starting a business...and I've already taken ownership of that. That was my bad. So, why NOT be amicable about the whole thing? What's to fight over?
Needless to say, I'm very surprised at how completely I misjudged everyone's reactions, not the least of which being my own.
And the 5th unexpected surprising thing about divorce is a physical reaction I'm having. I am ravenously hungry. Once the initial shocked nausea abated, I've become hungry. My brain perceives a whole in my middle, an empty space, and must be trying to fill it with food. I'm craving milk. (That must mean something sub-consciously, but I'm too tired to try to figure it out.) Milk, and other very wholesome foods. I'm not after chocolate or ice cream, it's strange but I want salad and veggies and rice and chicken. Wholesome, hearty, healthy food.
Good LORD I'm a wack job. I'm sure I'm going to get wackier before I get better.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
The Second Unexpected Surprising Thing About Divorce.
We can't stop calling each other "babe" or "hon". When he speaks to me, he automatically calls me "hon", and now he stumbles over it, and then corrects himself. My name in his mouth seems like an seldom-used word from a foreign language. And by foreign, I mean from another planet. I can't recall the last time he used my name.
Even when intoducing me, he'd say "This is my wife", and I'd step up, shake hands and say, "Hi, I'm Connie".
We've agreed he'll call me "homey" for now. I'll compensate by not addressing him at all. Worked for me when I had that evil step-mother. I refused to call her ''Mom", but my upbringing forbade me calling her by her name. So I'd just launch right into what I needed to say. Looking back, I don't think anyone ever even noticed my clever side-stepping of the issue. Likely as not, no one will notice now.
Even when intoducing me, he'd say "This is my wife", and I'd step up, shake hands and say, "Hi, I'm Connie".
We've agreed he'll call me "homey" for now. I'll compensate by not addressing him at all. Worked for me when I had that evil step-mother. I refused to call her ''Mom", but my upbringing forbade me calling her by her name. So I'd just launch right into what I needed to say. Looking back, I don't think anyone ever even noticed my clever side-stepping of the issue. Likely as not, no one will notice now.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The First Unexpected Surprising Thing About Divorce.
Washing my hands makes me sad, because I used to move my ring and dry the water from underneath it. Now when I wash my hands, I reach for the ring with my thumb to move it over a little bit, and it's not there and my finger feels weird, and then I remember why, and then I re-experience that shock of grief as if for the first time, and I forget to breathe again, and my head starts spinning again. Amazing how the state of marriage seeps into the tiniest, most deeply sub-conscious crevices of one's life.
Monday, March 30, 2009
My Aspartame Story.
I'm fat. Yeah, that's right. I'm fat. I've been on a diet since I was born, even when I WASN'T fat, because I thought I was. I'm also middle-aged.
Oh, and I am allergic to excercise, too.
Is it any wonder I felt like crap? I mean, I felt really, really bad. All the time. I kept telling the doctor I feel so tired all the time, more than I think I should for my age. The doctors always just told me to eat less, excercise more. And frankly, that seemed reasonable. So I felt like crap, and hated myself for feeling like crap because I put myself in this position, and then felt like crap even more.
But, still...I just kept wondering if it wasn't more than just middle-aged fatness. I mean, why did I wake up with a headache, EVERY SINGLE MORNING. My right hip hurt sooo much, that some days I had to lean on my husband to walk because it hurt so much! Arthritis-like. I remember thinking to myself, I'm going to be in a wheelchair before I hit 50. My body just seemed to be deteriorating so fast. My neck was always stiff, and sore. When I'd stand up from a chair, or from the bed, I'd have to stand still for a few moments before I could get moving because my muscles were so stiff. I drank caffeine like crazy to clear the cobwebs, because some days I just couldn't focus.
And then my "insides" hurt, too. Not exactly pain, but just uncomfortable. You know when you've been running or riding a bike, and you stop suddenly, how your leg muscles feel? That special kind of tired in your muscles? My ORGANS felt like that. I can't explain it, but I couldn't take a truly deep breath, and it just seemed as if the tissues in my organs were as stiff as my muscles. That's the best I can explain it. Not pain, exactly, but an AWARENESS of my innards, like something's not right.
I've been looking for an explanation for a long, long time. And I was very afraid. If I'm only 43, and I'm this stiff and sore from being out-of-shape, how much worse will I feel when I'm 50? 60? I genuinely envisioned being wheel-chair bound.
Now, the next part of the story is, just like eveyone else, I get those emails that have been passed around the internet a million times, screaming a warning about whatever the latest fear is. I'm sure you've seen them. I probably saw an email about the "DANGERS OF ASPARTAME!!!!" 15 times and deleted it along with all the other spam emails without giving it a second glance.
But then the 16th one I read. And after I read it, I thought, "oh whatEVER!!!!" And promptly deleted it. But I kept thinking about it. And I KEPT thinking about it. And then a few weeks later, I dug that email out of my deleted folder and read it again...
I really READ it. I looked at the list of side effects of Aspartame poisoning, and I began to wonder if there might not be some merit to the whole thing.
Being perpetually on a diet, I drank diet soft drinks, and ate light yogurt and sugar-free jello. And because I'm a fan of my own teeth, I chose sugar-free gum, mints and lozenges. I ingested Aspartame every day. I drank 1 to 4 Diet Cokes a day, and then had other sugar-free snacks. So I thought, there's only one way to tell, why don't I just try it for 14 days. Just switch back to regular soda, regular yogurt and jello and just see for myself? I have nothing to lose, and if it works, GREAT!
So, I had my last Diet Coke at 9am on a Monday morning. 24 hours later, the very next morning, I woke up without a headache. That evening, at 36 hours, I stood up out of bed real quick to go to the bathroom, and I saw that I could immediately begin walking instead of having to "steady myself" first. Within the week, all the arthritis-like joint pains, including the really bad one in my hip were VASTLY improved. The muscle weakness and stiffness were improving.
Oh, and did mention the incontinence? That slight little dribble-dribble that comes with middle age for most women? Yeah, it ain't fun to talk about, especially to the whole world! But you should know, the toxins from Asparatame permeate every single cell in your body, and that includes the bladder AND it's gasket. They weren't functioning as they were meant too, either, and THAT problem went away! There are women out there who take MEDICINE to stop bladder leaks, when all it might take is to give up artificial sweeteners!
I also regained mental clarity, lost the ringing in my ears, my vision even seemed just a little sharper. And the list goes on and on. All of this transpired a year ago.
But I really, genuinely, came to believe in my heart of hearts after today's realization. Here's the rest of the story.
Last week, my symptoms started coming back. I noticed the hip pain first, and then the daily headache, and then arthritis-like joint pain...I was VERY upset, VERY disheartened. Could I have been wrong? Is it all really related to old-age and fat? I even suspected someone might have been secretly slipping Equal into my regular sodas just to see if I noticed (because I talk about this all the time). Well I did notice. And I spent last Sunday poring over every thing in my fridge, maybe I accidently picked up a "light" yogurt along with the regular ones? I searched and searched, and then BAM! I realized what was happening. One week ago, I began to diet in earnest again. I even excercised if you can believe it!! And it occurred to me that because I'm dieting, my body is beginning to use the energy stored in my fat cells, AND RELEASING THE TOXINS STORED THERE TOO!!! So, of course my body is reacting the same way to that surge of toxins being re-introduced to my bloodstream! What a relief, but then again, not. Because I am determined to stick to the diet, and that means a lot of toxins being released from a lot of fat cells, and a long duration of dealing with it. But oddly, it makes me more determined to stay on my diet to rid myself not just from my fat, but also the toxins stored IN that fat. It's really pissing me off, and I'm determined not to let ASPARTAME win!
I am not a doctor, I am not a scientist, I am not a dietician. All I can do is relate my own personal experience, and hope it helps someone else. Here's the simple basics of the whole thing. Aspartame is not a food, it is a chemical. And when it enters your body, it breaks down into formaldehyde and formic acid. And THAT is what's making you feel like crap. And those toxins are stored in every single cell your body. Affecting every function of your organs, your glands, your endocrine system. Every THING and every FUNCTION in your body is affected. Again, all I can do is try my best to convince you that what I experienced is real. After today's revelation about why my symptoms were returning, I am 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, convinced that Aspartame was my problem. And that it is bad, bad news.
There are LOADS of websties about Aspartame Poisoning. Here are a few:
For symptoms: http://www.sweetpoison.com/aspartame-side-effects.html
How Aspartame Poisoning mimics other diseases and is often mis-diagnosed: http://www.healthy-holistic-living.com/aspartame-poison.html
How Aspartame got pushed through the FDA: http://proliberty.com/observer/20040604.htm
If you have symptoms you just can't explain, please just give it a try. Just one week, read every label on everything you eat, and if it contains aspartame OR sucralose, just choose something else that is made with regular sugar. I understand if you're a healthy skeptic who doesn't believe everything you read, I am too. So don't take my word for it, just try it to see for yourself. You have nothing to lose if it doesn't work, and if it does work, you'll feel great!
Good luck.
Oh, and I am allergic to excercise, too.
Is it any wonder I felt like crap? I mean, I felt really, really bad. All the time. I kept telling the doctor I feel so tired all the time, more than I think I should for my age. The doctors always just told me to eat less, excercise more. And frankly, that seemed reasonable. So I felt like crap, and hated myself for feeling like crap because I put myself in this position, and then felt like crap even more.
But, still...I just kept wondering if it wasn't more than just middle-aged fatness. I mean, why did I wake up with a headache, EVERY SINGLE MORNING. My right hip hurt sooo much, that some days I had to lean on my husband to walk because it hurt so much! Arthritis-like. I remember thinking to myself, I'm going to be in a wheelchair before I hit 50. My body just seemed to be deteriorating so fast. My neck was always stiff, and sore. When I'd stand up from a chair, or from the bed, I'd have to stand still for a few moments before I could get moving because my muscles were so stiff. I drank caffeine like crazy to clear the cobwebs, because some days I just couldn't focus.
And then my "insides" hurt, too. Not exactly pain, but just uncomfortable. You know when you've been running or riding a bike, and you stop suddenly, how your leg muscles feel? That special kind of tired in your muscles? My ORGANS felt like that. I can't explain it, but I couldn't take a truly deep breath, and it just seemed as if the tissues in my organs were as stiff as my muscles. That's the best I can explain it. Not pain, exactly, but an AWARENESS of my innards, like something's not right.
I've been looking for an explanation for a long, long time. And I was very afraid. If I'm only 43, and I'm this stiff and sore from being out-of-shape, how much worse will I feel when I'm 50? 60? I genuinely envisioned being wheel-chair bound.
Now, the next part of the story is, just like eveyone else, I get those emails that have been passed around the internet a million times, screaming a warning about whatever the latest fear is. I'm sure you've seen them. I probably saw an email about the "DANGERS OF ASPARTAME!!!!" 15 times and deleted it along with all the other spam emails without giving it a second glance.
But then the 16th one I read. And after I read it, I thought, "oh whatEVER!!!!" And promptly deleted it. But I kept thinking about it. And I KEPT thinking about it. And then a few weeks later, I dug that email out of my deleted folder and read it again...
I really READ it. I looked at the list of side effects of Aspartame poisoning, and I began to wonder if there might not be some merit to the whole thing.
Being perpetually on a diet, I drank diet soft drinks, and ate light yogurt and sugar-free jello. And because I'm a fan of my own teeth, I chose sugar-free gum, mints and lozenges. I ingested Aspartame every day. I drank 1 to 4 Diet Cokes a day, and then had other sugar-free snacks. So I thought, there's only one way to tell, why don't I just try it for 14 days. Just switch back to regular soda, regular yogurt and jello and just see for myself? I have nothing to lose, and if it works, GREAT!
So, I had my last Diet Coke at 9am on a Monday morning. 24 hours later, the very next morning, I woke up without a headache. That evening, at 36 hours, I stood up out of bed real quick to go to the bathroom, and I saw that I could immediately begin walking instead of having to "steady myself" first. Within the week, all the arthritis-like joint pains, including the really bad one in my hip were VASTLY improved. The muscle weakness and stiffness were improving.
Oh, and did mention the incontinence? That slight little dribble-dribble that comes with middle age for most women? Yeah, it ain't fun to talk about, especially to the whole world! But you should know, the toxins from Asparatame permeate every single cell in your body, and that includes the bladder AND it's gasket. They weren't functioning as they were meant too, either, and THAT problem went away! There are women out there who take MEDICINE to stop bladder leaks, when all it might take is to give up artificial sweeteners!
I also regained mental clarity, lost the ringing in my ears, my vision even seemed just a little sharper. And the list goes on and on. All of this transpired a year ago.
But I really, genuinely, came to believe in my heart of hearts after today's realization. Here's the rest of the story.
Last week, my symptoms started coming back. I noticed the hip pain first, and then the daily headache, and then arthritis-like joint pain...I was VERY upset, VERY disheartened. Could I have been wrong? Is it all really related to old-age and fat? I even suspected someone might have been secretly slipping Equal into my regular sodas just to see if I noticed (because I talk about this all the time). Well I did notice. And I spent last Sunday poring over every thing in my fridge, maybe I accidently picked up a "light" yogurt along with the regular ones? I searched and searched, and then BAM! I realized what was happening. One week ago, I began to diet in earnest again. I even excercised if you can believe it!! And it occurred to me that because I'm dieting, my body is beginning to use the energy stored in my fat cells, AND RELEASING THE TOXINS STORED THERE TOO!!! So, of course my body is reacting the same way to that surge of toxins being re-introduced to my bloodstream! What a relief, but then again, not. Because I am determined to stick to the diet, and that means a lot of toxins being released from a lot of fat cells, and a long duration of dealing with it. But oddly, it makes me more determined to stay on my diet to rid myself not just from my fat, but also the toxins stored IN that fat. It's really pissing me off, and I'm determined not to let ASPARTAME win!
I am not a doctor, I am not a scientist, I am not a dietician. All I can do is relate my own personal experience, and hope it helps someone else. Here's the simple basics of the whole thing. Aspartame is not a food, it is a chemical. And when it enters your body, it breaks down into formaldehyde and formic acid. And THAT is what's making you feel like crap. And those toxins are stored in every single cell your body. Affecting every function of your organs, your glands, your endocrine system. Every THING and every FUNCTION in your body is affected. Again, all I can do is try my best to convince you that what I experienced is real. After today's revelation about why my symptoms were returning, I am 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, convinced that Aspartame was my problem. And that it is bad, bad news.
There are LOADS of websties about Aspartame Poisoning. Here are a few:
For symptoms: http://www.sweetpoison.com/aspartame-side-effects.html
How Aspartame Poisoning mimics other diseases and is often mis-diagnosed: http://www.healthy-holistic-living.com/aspartame-poison.html
How Aspartame got pushed through the FDA: http://proliberty.com/observer/20040604.htm
If you have symptoms you just can't explain, please just give it a try. Just one week, read every label on everything you eat, and if it contains aspartame OR sucralose, just choose something else that is made with regular sugar. I understand if you're a healthy skeptic who doesn't believe everything you read, I am too. So don't take my word for it, just try it to see for yourself. You have nothing to lose if it doesn't work, and if it does work, you'll feel great!
Good luck.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Do I Cut the Red Wire, or the Blue Wire?
I have to make a decision that may blow up in my face.
In this ticking time-bomb of an economy, we’re all concerned for our jobs, and our families’ futures. And just like so many millions of other regular people, I live paycheck-to-paycheck. And THAT means I’m just one unemployed month away from homelessness. Saving money is a great idea on paper, but in the real world, most of us don’t make enough to save AND pay the bills. And if your luck is like mine, if you do find yourself sitting on, ohhhh....say $400 with no earmarks, and you open a savings account, the car breaks down and it’s a $600 repair. It happens to me every time! I almost would rather NOT save money, because at least when I’M broke, nothing else is.
So, here’s my dilemma: With lay-offs looming large on my horizon, do I stay at my job until the bitter end and hope I survive the cut? Or do I jump ship now, and start looking for a new job at a company that’s hiring? I mean, if I wait until I’m laid off, and THEN start looking for a job, it could take weeks. And unemployment compensation in my state is the same for everyone, very little, and only about a third of my current pay. Counting on that to see my family through is simply NOT an option! But if I start looking now, and actually find a job at a company that’s hiring, I could wind up with a job that’s a wrong fit.
So, which is it?
The red wire - where I stay at my job, (which I LOVE, by the way), holding on in breathless, white-knuckled despair until things ease up?
Or the blue wire - where I find a new job now, and wind up in breathless, white-knuckled despair working for a boss who’s turned out to be Buttholius Maximus.
The red wire - stay at my job hoping the company survives, giving everything I have in the way of prayer, good vibes, positive thinking, sacrifice and elbow grease, only to see the company tank and lose my job anyway?
Or the blue wire - where I LEAVE my current job in order to avoid a possible lay-off, only to see the company make it through with flying colors and leave my ship-jumping, disloyal self in the dust?
Ah, but I forgot! In the movies, when the guy looks at his partner for a decision, red or blue, he always chooses the THIRD option…the green wire!
My green wire - my third option - is to move to Scottsdale.
At least that way, when I end up homeless and living under a bridge, it will be a nicely landscaped, fashionable one, with a great view!
In this ticking time-bomb of an economy, we’re all concerned for our jobs, and our families’ futures. And just like so many millions of other regular people, I live paycheck-to-paycheck. And THAT means I’m just one unemployed month away from homelessness. Saving money is a great idea on paper, but in the real world, most of us don’t make enough to save AND pay the bills. And if your luck is like mine, if you do find yourself sitting on, ohhhh....say $400 with no earmarks, and you open a savings account, the car breaks down and it’s a $600 repair. It happens to me every time! I almost would rather NOT save money, because at least when I’M broke, nothing else is.
So, here’s my dilemma: With lay-offs looming large on my horizon, do I stay at my job until the bitter end and hope I survive the cut? Or do I jump ship now, and start looking for a new job at a company that’s hiring? I mean, if I wait until I’m laid off, and THEN start looking for a job, it could take weeks. And unemployment compensation in my state is the same for everyone, very little, and only about a third of my current pay. Counting on that to see my family through is simply NOT an option! But if I start looking now, and actually find a job at a company that’s hiring, I could wind up with a job that’s a wrong fit.
So, which is it?
The red wire - where I stay at my job, (which I LOVE, by the way), holding on in breathless, white-knuckled despair until things ease up?
Or the blue wire - where I find a new job now, and wind up in breathless, white-knuckled despair working for a boss who’s turned out to be Buttholius Maximus.
The red wire - stay at my job hoping the company survives, giving everything I have in the way of prayer, good vibes, positive thinking, sacrifice and elbow grease, only to see the company tank and lose my job anyway?
Or the blue wire - where I LEAVE my current job in order to avoid a possible lay-off, only to see the company make it through with flying colors and leave my ship-jumping, disloyal self in the dust?
Ah, but I forgot! In the movies, when the guy looks at his partner for a decision, red or blue, he always chooses the THIRD option…the green wire!
My green wire - my third option - is to move to Scottsdale.
At least that way, when I end up homeless and living under a bridge, it will be a nicely landscaped, fashionable one, with a great view!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Best Grammy Show in YEARS!
I haven't enjoyed a Grammy show as much as last night's (02.08.2009), in as long as I can remember. I'm a musician, and some years I even SKIP watching it because I know it's going to be so very, very bad. (read: the years when the Britney types were the rage).
Last night was such an amazing array of real TALENT! The first knock out punch came early, "Let's Stay Together" with Al Green, Justin Timberlake, Boyz II Men, and Keith Urban.How great was THAT! I've been blessed with having been in a band and performing onstage. And I've been there for that moment, when a group of people are playing a piece of music, where you can feel everyone slide into a groove, lining up in sync with each other, and the song takes over. You are no longer performing the song, the song performs itself and you are the instrument. Fantasia had that moment when she sang "Summertime" on Idol, and that amazing ensemble of musicians had that moment last night. I said to my husband "They need to release the recording of that performance as a single for radio play!" Well done! It was a joy to watch AND hear!
Now, I know this is going to pigeonhole me as out-of-touch and middle-aged, but I've never been a fan of rap or hip-hop. Don't get me wrong, I like edgy music with a message, but I'll take grunge for that. (I was never so musically satisfied as I was during the 90's.) However, amongst the newcomers such as Duffy and Adele, the hip-hop just seemed so......Tired. Done. Over. Hip-hop and rap have just devolved into a caricature. The best of that group, Queen Latifah, Diddy, Ice-T, have all attained more "grown-up" careers. What's left just seems like a big waste. I've never even heard of M.I.A. before last night, (I KNOW! I'm OLD!), but what in the HELL was she wearing?! She looked like an idiot. Period.
And what does everyone feel like the only way to gain street cred is to have an angry rapper chime in on their song? That's another supposedly shocking arrangement that's been done to death. Aerosmith and Run DMC cornered the "cool" in that market, and everyone since then is just copycatting. And besides, Justin Timberlake, YOU have plenty o' street cred all on your own! Robin Thicke, maybe not so much...
But in between the tired stuff, there were many shiny, bright spots of music genius. Jennifer Hudson, Adele, the afore-mentioned ensemble with Al Green, Coldplay...and then towards the end, the Grammy producers knocked me out AGAIN with B.B. King, Buddy Guy, John Mayer and Keith Urban again, doing Bo Diddly's tune! Any time I can see Keith Urban (who is my future ex-husband, by the way) is a treat, and two performances in one night, neatly bracketing each end of the show like a finely sculpted, hefty, smooth....hard.....(oh 'scuse me! kinda got lost there!) set of bookends - well, it just doesn't get any better. Frankly, their performance could have turned into a 30 minute blues jam, for my money!
All in all, last night's Grammy's delivered in a way it hasn't in years. Not too glitzy and over-produced, the producers for once just relaxed and let the music and performances speak for themselves. It seemed more like a great concert than some boring old awards show! Nice WORK!
Last night was such an amazing array of real TALENT! The first knock out punch came early, "Let's Stay Together" with Al Green, Justin Timberlake, Boyz II Men, and Keith Urban.How great was THAT! I've been blessed with having been in a band and performing onstage. And I've been there for that moment, when a group of people are playing a piece of music, where you can feel everyone slide into a groove, lining up in sync with each other, and the song takes over. You are no longer performing the song, the song performs itself and you are the instrument. Fantasia had that moment when she sang "Summertime" on Idol, and that amazing ensemble of musicians had that moment last night. I said to my husband "They need to release the recording of that performance as a single for radio play!" Well done! It was a joy to watch AND hear!
Now, I know this is going to pigeonhole me as out-of-touch and middle-aged, but I've never been a fan of rap or hip-hop. Don't get me wrong, I like edgy music with a message, but I'll take grunge for that. (I was never so musically satisfied as I was during the 90's.) However, amongst the newcomers such as Duffy and Adele, the hip-hop just seemed so......Tired. Done. Over. Hip-hop and rap have just devolved into a caricature. The best of that group, Queen Latifah, Diddy, Ice-T, have all attained more "grown-up" careers. What's left just seems like a big waste. I've never even heard of M.I.A. before last night, (I KNOW! I'm OLD!), but what in the HELL was she wearing?! She looked like an idiot. Period.
And what does everyone feel like the only way to gain street cred is to have an angry rapper chime in on their song? That's another supposedly shocking arrangement that's been done to death. Aerosmith and Run DMC cornered the "cool" in that market, and everyone since then is just copycatting. And besides, Justin Timberlake, YOU have plenty o' street cred all on your own! Robin Thicke, maybe not so much...
But in between the tired stuff, there were many shiny, bright spots of music genius. Jennifer Hudson, Adele, the afore-mentioned ensemble with Al Green, Coldplay...and then towards the end, the Grammy producers knocked me out AGAIN with B.B. King, Buddy Guy, John Mayer and Keith Urban again, doing Bo Diddly's tune! Any time I can see Keith Urban (who is my future ex-husband, by the way) is a treat, and two performances in one night, neatly bracketing each end of the show like a finely sculpted, hefty, smooth....hard.....(oh 'scuse me! kinda got lost there!) set of bookends - well, it just doesn't get any better. Frankly, their performance could have turned into a 30 minute blues jam, for my money!
All in all, last night's Grammy's delivered in a way it hasn't in years. Not too glitzy and over-produced, the producers for once just relaxed and let the music and performances speak for themselves. It seemed more like a great concert than some boring old awards show! Nice WORK!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Bill O'Reilly Has Bumped His Head.
Hillary Clinton was publicly sworn today, although she's been legally sworn in for a couple of weeks already. Afterwards she gave a speech, in which she commented that she'd like to thank her husband (who stood behind her on the dais), for giving her a lifetime of "interesting experiences". The former president proceeded to turn beet-red, despite the good-natured laugher all around.
Tonight on his show, Bill O'Reilly, in all seriousness, asked a panel of women if they felt sorry for President Clinton, at having been embarassed that way.
I think Mr. O'Reilly has bumped his head. He MUST be sufferin' a concussion.
Why would anyone feel SORRY for Bill Clinton? For 2 seconds of embarassment? How about how Billy-boy embarassed US? He defiled the sanctity and diginity and honor of the Oval Office, by playing his whoreMonica. Before Bill, the Presidency was still regarded as a position of honor, integrity, respect. Bill Clinton was the first one to reveal that even the President is just a man. He besmirched the legend, made himself and the office just seem so...pedestrian. So UN-remarkable. I was embarassed, for the most powerful man in the world to turn out to be just some lecherous creep. I imagine he's the kind of guy I'd slap in a bar for pinching my tush, and thinking he's soo slick. THAT'S embarassing, to think of my president as Creepy McCreepster.
And not to MENTION how he must have embarassed Hillary. Who handled all of it with quiet grace. And in the case of today's speech, I don't think she intended to put her husband out on front street. It appeared to me to be just an off-the-cuff, humorous aside. She was speaking in code, talking to anyone who doubted her ability to handle the awesome responsibility of the job she's undertaking. She was saying, "Look, if I can deal with what has come before, I can deal with what's yet to come. I am strong, wise, and capable".
So, Mr. O'Reilly - the answer is "no". I don't feel sorry for President Clinton. Any embarrasment he feels, he brought on himself. He SHOULD feel lucky this woman still stands by his side.
And you, Mr. O, should seek immediate medical attention for that head trauma.
Tonight on his show, Bill O'Reilly, in all seriousness, asked a panel of women if they felt sorry for President Clinton, at having been embarassed that way.
I think Mr. O'Reilly has bumped his head. He MUST be sufferin' a concussion.
Why would anyone feel SORRY for Bill Clinton? For 2 seconds of embarassment? How about how Billy-boy embarassed US? He defiled the sanctity and diginity and honor of the Oval Office, by playing his whoreMonica. Before Bill, the Presidency was still regarded as a position of honor, integrity, respect. Bill Clinton was the first one to reveal that even the President is just a man. He besmirched the legend, made himself and the office just seem so...pedestrian. So UN-remarkable. I was embarassed, for the most powerful man in the world to turn out to be just some lecherous creep. I imagine he's the kind of guy I'd slap in a bar for pinching my tush, and thinking he's soo slick. THAT'S embarassing, to think of my president as Creepy McCreepster.
And not to MENTION how he must have embarassed Hillary. Who handled all of it with quiet grace. And in the case of today's speech, I don't think she intended to put her husband out on front street. It appeared to me to be just an off-the-cuff, humorous aside. She was speaking in code, talking to anyone who doubted her ability to handle the awesome responsibility of the job she's undertaking. She was saying, "Look, if I can deal with what has come before, I can deal with what's yet to come. I am strong, wise, and capable".
So, Mr. O'Reilly - the answer is "no". I don't feel sorry for President Clinton. Any embarrasment he feels, he brought on himself. He SHOULD feel lucky this woman still stands by his side.
And you, Mr. O, should seek immediate medical attention for that head trauma.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A Serious Case of the "But-Firsts".
I’m having a great big case of the but-firsts at work today. Seems like I can’t start anything without having to do 12 other things first.
A case in point:
I’ve arrived at work, early for once, because I’d really like to get a jump on the day. But I’m staring at my computer like it’s an alien spacecraft, unable to comprehend the cryptic heiroglyphics on the screen.
For like 10 minutes.
I swear I was typing in English yesterday, but today…I don’t know what the hell I’m lookin’ at…
I think to myself “I need to start working, but first, I need a cup of coffee!”.
I grab my cup, walk to the coffee maker, but first I have to rinse and wash my cup from yesterday. Once cleaned, I go to to fetch coffee, but first I have to MAKE a pot, because the last schlub who emptied it didn’t start a new pot. (fuckin' loser!!!) So, I put down my cup, bring the coffee pot over to the water cooler to get water to make coffee, but first I have to put a new jug of water in the cooler because IT’S empty too!
I pull off the empty bottle, reach for a new one, but first I have to go outside to GET a full bottle because there’s only empties sitting in the office!
So - I had to go outside,
get a full water jug,
clean the top of it because of the dust and bird poop from outside,
put in on the water cooler,
so I could fill the coffee pot,
walk it back to the coffee maker,
set up a new pot,
wait for the coffee,
all so I could get motivated to WORK!
FINALLY I’m ready to work - but first – I’m taking my coffee break!
A case in point:
I’ve arrived at work, early for once, because I’d really like to get a jump on the day. But I’m staring at my computer like it’s an alien spacecraft, unable to comprehend the cryptic heiroglyphics on the screen.
For like 10 minutes.
I swear I was typing in English yesterday, but today…I don’t know what the hell I’m lookin’ at…
I think to myself “I need to start working, but first, I need a cup of coffee!”.
I grab my cup, walk to the coffee maker, but first I have to rinse and wash my cup from yesterday. Once cleaned, I go to to fetch coffee, but first I have to MAKE a pot, because the last schlub who emptied it didn’t start a new pot. (fuckin' loser!!!) So, I put down my cup, bring the coffee pot over to the water cooler to get water to make coffee, but first I have to put a new jug of water in the cooler because IT’S empty too!
I pull off the empty bottle, reach for a new one, but first I have to go outside to GET a full bottle because there’s only empties sitting in the office!
So - I had to go outside,
get a full water jug,
clean the top of it because of the dust and bird poop from outside,
put in on the water cooler,
so I could fill the coffee pot,
walk it back to the coffee maker,
set up a new pot,
wait for the coffee,
all so I could get motivated to WORK!
FINALLY I’m ready to work - but first – I’m taking my coffee break!
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