My Schedule For the 30th of February

People are generally lovely, kind, understanding. But even in kindness, people can drive you batshit insane.

For five years, from '06-'11, I was delighted to be seizure-free... if I had to schedule it... timing is everything, or so I'm told, I suppose I'd go for the 30th of February. If by some bizarre quirk of fate the Gregorian calendar is revised, like the Julian calendar it replaced, and we are given a 30th day in February, I am hopelessly screwed! :-)

I have two types... one is the tonic-clonic... I like to call this the cinematic variety... it was known as grand mal at one point. First the body stiffens, then, it relaxes...and whammo. I like to describe a seizure as a disrupted telephone line or as a computer shutting down. In this case,  your call to  Aunt Gertie in Tennessee doesn't go through. No nice conversation... instead, the signal is messed up and the messages don't get down the wire.

The second example is the brain, the CPU of your body. Sometimes, it has to shut itself down and reload. After this, I am generally exhausted and left with large blank parts in my memory, or with a few rather nightmarish-but-blurry images. I also tend to walk and talk like I've been on a 3 day bender. And I'll be really thirsty. I can tell ya, it hurts. Like hell. The muscles really do need some help afterwards. May be warned by headache, but since I also get migraines without activity, this is not always the case. But exhaustion and irritability will usually start just before hand. This one freaks me out, because I'll occasionally, just as I'm waking, think I'm under water while people call my name.

The other type used to be referred to as the "petit-mal"  (I'm a bad French student. "Little Illness.") --- more commonly called a staring spell... some people have these simply due to exhaustion... and I warn people a lot that if I'm otherwise fine, to try to avoid alarming me... I may just be tired! (It's a weird one, but I'll send off clues!) On occasion, I'll drop things... like a soda or water bottle, and I tend to find myself slumping. I'm generally "ok" after, but, if people have attempted to slap me to (please, for God's sake... do NOT slap my cheeks and shout "are you ok"! It's a bit jarring and it's easy to frighten me in this state too.) I have wanted to show them what it's like by giving them a movie bitch-slap,  but not had the requisite strength. "You. Come here. Closer. Closer. Closer. Now. Grab my hand. Now. Slap yourself. Hard." (But I've always chickened out.) I'll be wonky, but not nearly as bad as the first type.

First and foremost, if I feel ready to drop, I listen to myself. No second-guessing! I'll beat this.

Calgon, Take Me Away

At this point, I have no clear image of where I'm going. I know that there is light at the end of the tunnel, I know that the sun does come out after the darkest of days. Pain doesn't last forever.

Things I'm beginning to pick up. I do learn, even if it comes from the mouth of a horse's ass (No particular person in mind. This is a general statement.)!

1) I can't be on all the time. That's ok. And right now, rest will be good for me. I'm praying that it's merely exhaustion/ bad attack of allergies.

2)Leave the pros to do what they do. I know, for example, that if I were attempt to play pro football, that I am (A) no Rudy, and (B)no Doug Flutie, and I would get smooshed. Respect the experts and leave them to it. This metaphor has stretched terribly. I need not be where I know I will act in a way I don't like. I am in control of me, and will tolerate no slipping.

3)I will not live my life in and out of social networking. Not because of a scary study regarding depression... I think there's a set of mitigating factors. But because it's a big, beautiful world and mosquitoes aside, there's nice summer nights and no need for a heavy coat.

4)I am working on the positive. Finding ways to keep sane in insane places, at insane times. So why worry, as I have to keep reminding myself. I'll do it, until I get through to myself.

5)Say "No" when necessary (HINT, HINT).

6) Let people know when they're behaving like assholes.

7) Be tougher when I want answers, as they won't come by simply worrying. Time to hold my head up, square my shoulders and think awesome.

8)Quit worrying. (Giggle.)

9) Remember once and for all that while fear and stubbornness can save, they can keep you sick and scared for too long.

10) Quit taking refuge in vagueness

11) Take a break... I am going to be exhausted and in a "If it's Thursday, this must be Belgium," frame of mind.
(Also, the difference between a French and Belgian kiss is this: same basic approach, but the Belgian has a lot more Flem.)


Arrivederci!

Vocabulary, Video Games, and the Sweet, Simple Things

Trying to deal, to focus on what's important, and weed out what's not, has been marvelous. Cathartic. (I love that word, like avoirdupois, it's simply not used enough. Sample sentence on the former: "You may be blessed with avoirdupois, my friend, and you may throw that about as much as you please, but as far as I'm concerned, you may take your opinion and shove up your rather considerable backside!") 

Because I delight in new vocabulary words:

Courtesy of Dictionary.com and an ad from the 50's attempting to use "avoirdupois" poetically

With more work to do :)


So, the world is strange. Appointments, appointments, tests... oh, the tests! Still no answers, and day by day, I realize I'm still not where I want or need to be. When I screw up, I still get after myself, and I am not very nice to myself, either. But I can't do that. Instead, I'm going to remember: the opinions of people I don't know, whose struggles are unknown to me, and mine to them...why should I  worry what they think? There's those I love  who love me. While sometimes, I may take an opinion or analysis with a grain of salt anyway, I'll listen and try to learn.

And of course, focus on what's good. Simple, sweet, odd little things

1)Finding Space Invaders again, at long last! (Cue Etta James, please!) There's something in a point and click kill the aliens game that is magic!... now to share the beauty with the next generation!

It rocks my socks. Courtesy of Dorkly Dot Com

My wonderfully sweet, insane friends. All of them. My wonderfully sweet, insane family, as well.

My Cloud-b starlight sea turtle. Calming. And, with a textured ceiling, it's a delight to watch the stars above my bed! (Sticky stars wouldn't stick.)

Music. While I get plagued with ear worms that won't quit, I'm grateful for music and will be sad when I lose the ability to hear it. But not too sad, I love feeling it, too. Take, for example, Iron Man by Black Sabbath. It took me forever to understand Ozzy, but I know the beat in my very bones.

Falling and Forgiveness

I'm butchering a rather sweet, honest, if not naive, statement.

Jerks will always be among us. All we can do is love them

I won't go into anything that says "In spite of everything..." because I am nowhere near the type of person who can honestly say that.
Not right now. I know, in my heart, that the jerks are out numbered, although it doesn't seem like it, by the genuinely kind. That even jerks teach valuable lessons. And we can learn to not give a damn sometimes, when we need to protect ourselves.
I will not give into hate, or fear. I will accept a bad moment, where fear got to me... I think "We are not given a spirit of fear" has not been drummed into my head nearly enough.

 Just in case:

What did I do? How did I let myself get dragged down when I was working on a sense of peace and calm? How did I let the jerks win this time? Why? When I had other, better things to do, when I could have tended my own garden rather than worry that someone decided to dump fresh manure on someone else's roses, I screwed up and gave in to anger. After all the pep talks to myself. God help me... I gave myself more stress, more to worry about, more to fear. Talk about two steps back. But... I need to be nicer to myself. I need to allow myself to be human, with all that entails, and forgive my screw ups. I can't let myself fall back. No... Hi me... I forgive you, too. Let's get going.

Consider the Lilies

Or... Mixing Metaphors


Consider the lilies... They want for nothing, but for fresh, clean air and sunshine. They "do all right" as the hilarious scene in The Life of Brian reminds us. We are much more important than they, so fair play to them, they're very pretty! and should we take their example? (Mixed metaphor, and I won't be able to stretch it long.)

Well, as humans, we cannot sit embedded, waiting for capricious rain or sun. We must go for our own food. We think, we feel. But do we need to worry? No! (She's 'avin' a go at the lilies now!)

In life, there will forever be someone who gets our goat, treats us roughly (and for some stupid reason, we may go back for more, out of a misplaced need to placate and be polite.) I would say, take time out to figure out what's important: the capricious opinions of people unknown to me, and I to them, or taking time to care for me, so I am healthy, so that I am not a mess, and worthless when push comes to shove, and to care for those whom I love and love me?

I will be content, and strong.
I don't need to worry about the craziness around me, it always is, and somehow, I will be the one who has to bear it... I can shake that off, shrug, if you will. The world needs to spin for itself and I cannot hold it up. This I am learning, and must acknowledge.

Here endeth the sermon, go in peace.

Valentina

This year, a little boy named Ryan showed up in Target circulars. While many people tend to toss these and go, it created a buzz. Ryan is a child who happens to have an extra chromosome. He is a child, first, and foremost, and adorable as all get out. Ryan has Down Syndrome.

This year, a Spanish fashion designer made a little girl, the spectacularly adorable Miss Valentina Guerrero, its cover model for swimsuits in her 2013 summer campaign. (This kid is seriously cute.)
Already, many bloggers have entered in their opinions on "ableism" and "disability", and on whether the designer, Delores Cortes is committing the faux pas of "Look at me! I'm doing something big!" and whether the donations to The Down Syndrome Association of Miami are done with open heart and genuinely wanting to support these awesome and marvelous people... or whether it's a self-serving act to drum up business. This will always, sadly be one of the first things that will be said. Also, one of our fine British friends on that paragon of news reporting, the Daily Mail, already added their two pence, while not even, apparently looking at Valentina, a priceless, gorgeous baby with the sweetest, tubby little cheeks I've seen, as a person, and added in their written sneer, "Yes... she looks...special". (Can't help ya, dude. I look at her and I die of cuteness.)

Is she adorable and utterly compliant to Western norms of beauty? Yes. Do you take an involuntary second look? Maybe. I see a child first, here, pretty as can be. With an open, unabashed smile and a twinkle in her hazel-brown eyes.
Did Dolores Cortes do a good thing? Yes. Will children benefit? Yes. Will eyes and minds be opened? We can hope.

This is not the first model with down syndrome in a major campaign. Valentina has the honor of being the first to be the face of the campaign and not just another kid to pick out from the crowd. It also looks like Ms. Cortes let her simply be a baby, and that's great.

Bethy's First-World Problems, and Tips

Sometimes, restrictive diets, for whichever reason, be it for health, to ensure your dear little intestines (I never thought I'd see the day I called my intestines "dear"... they were there, but like gynecology or politics I choose to never discuss them over dinner...everyone gets upset and no one can finish their dessert.) can process what you need, and thus your liver, kidneys, and stomach as well, and any vitamins are used as opposed to piddled out... can get nutty. I mean, I'd love to walk into a restaurant and say "I'll have the French toast"... although I really enjoy making it at home... if I have a bread that soaks up my egg, milk, cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg mixture well!- Bonus tip: I use a little extra virgin olive oil in my cooking process.  (Udi's GF sandwich bread. Freezer section. Awesome.) rather than dither. There's really only so many coffee (or cherry coke float) & fry meals I can handle while attempting not to gaze longingly at a cheeseburger (or get caught doing so.) And while I fully enjoy surf and turf (now that I know how to eat shrimp, that is... the first time, age 9, I went for the tail... "It's... chewy." Everyone fell over laughing while asking me if my parents ever gave me seafood.) and the prototypical trucker's breakfast, steak and eggs, (Medium well, if you please, extra hash browns, no bread, scrambled eggs), I can say it: "I am tired of steak and eggs! I want variety!" (First world problems, y'know?) 
Enough about me... although chances are I'll insert some weird sarcasm somewhere down the line.

Recently, studies show (That's right... when not dealing with the shadows, or finishing off another Game of Thrones book, I gag for technical studies. I worry about me.)
that if you want to lose weight (not so much, thank you- but I'm using some of this for the opposite reason, sort of like body builders drinking Slim Fast in whole milk.), you have more success if you keep a food journal than if you do not. In my case, I keep track of how many calories I'm getting (since I fell somewhere and frightened myself) and whether or not I'm getting enough protein. It's annoying to say the least, and who wants to look back years later and read: "February 26th, 11:00PM: Finished half of chicken, washed down with bottle of Mexican Coke"?
The technical stuff, courtesy of Journal of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics
(I also worry sometimes... does it need to be said, every time I go finish off a container of honeydew chunks? Or my favorite baked apples? Well, yeah, but it sucks. Plain and simple. It's a time sucker.)
Now for the talented Lesley Kinzel, blogger at Two Whole Cakes, author of a book by the same name, and columnist at XO Jane (If you were a teenager in the 80's and 90's, and even early '00s, you know of Sassy & Jane Pratt.)
Lesley is a bright little sunbeam, and her photoshops, added into serious scenes from Downton Abbey (which I love mostly for Maggie Smith, whom I hope to be like when I'm an old woman.) made me get a bit of a girl-crush.
 She also loves, loves, loves, and is beautifully odd. While at different spectrums, I find her a breath of fresh air.

Lesley on how to keep a non-crazy making food journal

I also follow, for sanity purposes and a smile, The Fat Nutritionist.
Part of this unsure, weird world, of explaining storage proteins and acquiring a knack for finding weird text books and a bizarre lexicon of phrases that make my doctors ask me when I went to med school, is knowing when to laugh, and to brighten the gloom of constantly fighting for what's natural.

On the protein side, while I'm (A) using a heavier-fat milk than the can suggests, (adding 206 cal to my daily total.)  and (B) cutting scoop sizes to avoid the "Chunky milkshake" aesthetic, I finally found Spiru-tein, which was recommended, weirdly, by an earnest, and perhaps well-meaning jackass- I'm feeling better there. I'm doing something. For more information, go to Spiru-tein. It's a gluten-free mixture of spirulina protein, etc. The can says you don't need a blender, and done right, a cocktail shaker works fine for this. Just don't listen when they say "Add a HEAPING spoonful." Also: Chocolate is where it's at. :-P