Into the Ether

It is a strange thing to know people read your blog.
You hope people do. I hate to think of my words just flying off into the ether, never to be read by a single soul but me. Usually, if you're writing a blog, it's because you have a desire to share something (hopefully brilliant/insightful/at the very least funny) with mankind. Or your kind relatives and friends that humor you and bump up your stats counter.
So it's very strange to see people (strangers!) not just reading, but linking to your blog.
(How did I get here? I'll tell you...)
I was playing one of my favorite time-wasting games, "Six degrees of me", on Facebook. What I do is click on a friend, then click on one of their friends, and so on, just to see if anyone knows anyone super cool (like Christian Bale, or whatever) personally. (Or as "personally" as one can on facebook.)
While doing this, I noticed that one BalletMet dancer had posted a link to my entry on A Midsummer Night's Dream on another dancer's page.
Seeing this made me promptly scurry back and read the review, and then sigh when I realized that I had said nice (in one case, rather adoring) things about the dancers.
I know that people read this blog. I don't have thousands of family and friends. And I definitely don't have any that live anywhere near Tibet.
But it's still weird to see your post posted on someone else's wall, by someone you don't know.
And in a way....strangely gratifying.

If I Never Knew You

If I never knew you

I'd have lived my whole life through

Empty as the sky

Never knowing why

Lost forever

If I never knew you.

--If I Never Knew You, Stephen Schwartz

How do you convince people that life is better than no life at all?
That all lives are worth living, no matter how painful? 

For some people...you can't.

I've written about this a few times here. But today brought it into a painful and stark perspective. There are people out there who think my life, and that of hundreds of thousands of others, is not worth living. 

Today's Dispatch held this example. I'm posting the whole letter instead of linking to it. 

My emphases in bold:

Pre-birth testing foe needs context

Wednesday,  February 24, 2010 2:51 AM

I respond to the Friday letter "Hitler would approve of pre-birth testing" from Thomas R. Marco. He references the killing of babies and asks "is reducing the statistical percentage of abnormalities worth such horrific acts?"
My answer is: You better believe it's worth it. Before others judge, they should know a little more about the "abnormalities." My daughter was born with Tay Sachs. My wife and I watched her suffer for just under three years.
We watched her slowly die and live a difficult and very uncomfortable life.
We watched and listened to her scream in pain and frustration for hours at a time. We watched her as she lost the ability to sit, to eat, to hear, to see, to do anything but suffer. Then we watched her die while she was in my arms. I carried her out to the hearse.
If any child can be spared that by pre-birth testing, then I am all for it.
Better yet, parents should have genetic testing prior to trying to conceive so that everyone's moral sensibilities can be assuaged.
Until Marco has spent a minute with a child whose short life is filled with suffering, I suggest he be more careful with his Adolf Hitler references.
KEVIN LEVINE
Bexley

So--his daughter's life wasn't worth living? 
He would have 'spared her' by not allowing her to be born at all.

This is MY letter to the editor. I sent it this morning, not sure if it will be published. But I want to share it with you anyway.
 ***
To the editor:
I was disturbed by Kevin Levine's "Pre-birth testing foe needs context" (Letters, Feb. 24, 2010). He states that "...if any child can be spared [suffering] by pre-birth testing, then I am all for it." I am sorry for the death of his child, and the pain that his family endured. But his logic is simply faulty.

Mr. Levine is essentially saying that I should not have been born, because that's the only way I would've been "spared."  I am twenty-seven years old, and was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis (CF) when I was 11. Since then, I have spent months in the hospital, had a two-week visit to the ICU, undergone countless tests, and, at the age of twenty-three, had a double lung transplant. Before my transplant, most of my days were spent sleeping. I hadn't the energy to do anything else. Even simple tasks such as brushing my teeth took enormous energy. I was in almost constant pain from the lung infections and scar tissue that are part and parcel with CF.

But I have never considered my life not worth living. I love my life.  I am a college graduate, am working on a Master's Degree, and have a good job. I have wonderful family and friends and an 11-year old godson. I have been under the care of brilliant doctors and nurses who have worked tirelessly to save my life. If I had not been born, I would have certainly spared myself and my family much suffering. But the joys of life would not have been mine, either.

My CF has made me who I am today, and I'd like to think that's a good thing. No matter what the challenges my life may have handed--and continue to hand--me, nothing is more precious than the gift of life.

Suffering cannot be avoided in any life. It's part of being human. Just because a person has to suffer doesn't mean that her life is not worth living. As Robert Louis Stevenson said, "Life does not consist in getting a good hand, but in learning to play a bad hand well." 
 ***

How can anyone--especially a parent--say that someone's life was so filled with suffering and tragedy that it wasn't worth living? How is that not monstrous?
My parents have watched all those things too, Mr. Levine. And I'm pretty sure I'll die before they will. They've had 26 years of it. 
Would I have saved my family money if I'd not be born? For sure.
Would I have saved them lots of emotional pain? Definitely
Would my brother and sister have gotten more attention? Absolutely.

Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be that, in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh, God! To hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust!

--Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

But...

Would they be better if I hadn't been born?
I can't answer that. If you never knew someone, how do you know what you're missing? 

But I know--and no matter what price I have to pay, it was worth it. The entirety of it.

I realize then that we never have children, we receive them. And sometimes it's not for quite as long as we would have expected or hoped. But it is still far better than never having had those children at all. 'Kate,' I confess. 'I'm so sorry.'
She pushes back from me, until she can look me in the eye. 'Don't be,' she says fiercely. 'Because I'm not.' She tries to smile, tries so damn hard. 'It was a good one, Mom, wasn't it?'
I bite my lip, feel the heaviness of tears. 'It was the best,' I answer."
--Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper 

Winter Cooking

Most days when I cook, it's in the middle of a rush--the TV is on, I've just gotten home, and I'm hungry. Baking is another story; that's more meditative. I do it when I have time (or a chocolate craving). But cooking has a sense of urgency to it in my kitchen. 
Today, with the snow falling, I took my time. I scrubbed the potatoes and cut them into dice. I peeled the onion, and sliced it carefully, thinly. I slid them into the oil-slick pan, and cooked them slowly, for 30 minutes, letting them caramelize. 
There is no TV. There is no music. There's just the quiet sizzling of the vegetables in the pan. 


Nigella's Onion and Potato Hash
from Feast

1 small onion
1 tbsp. olive oil
2 cups all purpose potatoes (one regular sized spud) cut into 1/2" dice with skin on
1/4 tsp. cayenne pepper (I didn't have any, so used red pepper flakes very generously)
1 egg

Peel and halve the onion and slice finely into half moons. Heat the oil in a rying pan, add the sliced onion and cook over medium heat with a sprinkle of salt to stop it catching. Scrub but do not peel the potato, cut into 1/2" dice and add to the onion in the pan, sprinkling over the cayenne pepper.
Turn the heat down to low and keeping moving the onions and potatoes about every now and then as you want them to caramelize rather than darken in color. Cook them slowly like this for about 30 minutes or until the potato is tender. Turn the heat up and push the potato and onion hash to one side of the pan. Crack in the egg in the other half, and when it is cooked spoon the onions and potatoes on to a plate and top with the fried egg.

A Clouded Constellation

The Corner has this to say about the Obama Administration's proposed canceling of the Constellation space shuttle program. This is one of the things in the budget I'm a little disappointed about. 

 For one thing, space is cool. I loved studying space and astronomy as a kid, and really, it's one of the few places where I could see clear (and AWESOME) applications for higher math. I'm an Ohioan, so flight and space are big--we have the Wright Brothers, Neil Armstrong, and NASA Glenn research center in Cleveland. 

Over the summer, I visited the Johnson Space Center in Houston. It was a world-class museum, offering something for everyone at rock-bottom ticket prices. I got to touch a moon rock, visit Historic Mission Control, see the Saturn V rocket, and learn that we've figured out how humans could survive on the Moon. It was so neat. If I was a kid, this might have motivated me to work harder in math and science!

Growing plants on the Moon

Space is part of the national consciousness. Star Wars, Star Trek, Apollo 13, and the Challenger explosion are easy examples of space-themed things in our culture. My Tempurpedic bed is (supposedly) based on NASA science. 

Sure, it's a government agency, so it's bloated and inefficient. But it does need consistent funding if we're going to reach the Moon again, or Mars. I've been reading Man and the Moon, by Andrew Chakin, about the space program. These moon trips were complicated research missions-- a lot of science was involved, as was the taking of samples and other experiments. It wasn't just, "hey, let's beat the Russians to the Moon." 

I don't think exploration can come with set standards. Christopher Columbus wanted to find China; he found Hispanola instead. Alexander the Great wept when he saw there was no more to conquer. Magellean found the way through the treacherous strait that bears his name. Every terrestrial has added to our knowledge about this planet, her people, and her life. (Let's save the arguments about why it wasn't so great for another time.) Why can't extraterrestrial exploration do the same thing? Astronauts are today's Columbuses and Magelleans. They give us license to dream. 

New technology

I normally like new technology. I love iPods, macs, etc. I haven't gotten on the Blu-Ray bandwagon yet because of two things: The player price, and the fact that I have lots of DVDs.
Cell phones are an area where I am technologically WAY behind. I've had my old cell phone since 2006. That's like eons in cell phone-ese.
Today, I finally got a new one. This one is much easier to text and surf web with, as well as sort contacts and even listen to voice mail. I love it.
Welcome to the new decade, says my phone.

A very merry Christmas...

To all my blog readers. Thank you for reading! I wish you and your families a very Merry Christmas.
(Oh, you want something to read, too? Well try this, about a very memorable Christmas gift.)

Parents: How To Be There

(Below, I use the word “child” instead of “patient”, since I’m talking mostly to parents here. But feel free to substitute your own word when reading.)
I like to compare myself to a cat. I don’t really like them (sorry, Di), but I compare myself to them because I match their longevity. By my count, I’m on life number seven. So I can have two more near-death experiences before The Last One.
As such, I tend to think about The End more than most people, especially most people my age. I’ve planned my funeral, for pete’s sake. I am fully aware than I am probably not going to die in my bed when I’m 85. I’m OK with that.
When people write about death and dying, I take an interest. Usually, it’s to see how I’d react in their situation. Unlike a lot of people, who are really just guessing, I’ve been there, and can imagine pretty clearly how I would (or how I have reacted).
The things I read are 99.9% by observers, not the patient. They’re written by nurses, doctors, caretakes, parents, what have you. Not the patient, because usually the patient’s dead. And normally I read them and then…move on.
But one blogger I read regularly recently wrote a column on death and dying and some of it touched nerves with me. So I thought that the patient’s point of view might be edifying one some points.

• When you are the patient, and you need support during a procedure, you should get it. Period. Now, I’m older, and I’m verbal. I can tell my parents to leave if I don’t want them watching something, or if I know it will upset them (like when I have to have IVs put in—they don’t want to watch me being poked fifty billion times. So I send them to the cafeteria, or whatever). But if I’m scared, (yes, I’m twenty-seven, and there are still scary procedures) I want one of them with me. Period. Full stop. Is this selfish? Maybe. But at the end of it, in the most primal way, I’m their kid, they’re my parents. As a child, I want my parent/s there. (If I had a spouse, maybe it would be him. Not sure.) I’ve always had at least one parent with me when I needed one, and sometimes I’ve had both. To not be with your child when s/he is in pain, and possibly could die, is beyond me. To me, being with your child trumps any feelings you might have about grossness. If your child is begging you to stay, you stay. Period. I can’t imagine asking my parents to stay, knowing I needed them to stay, and having them leave because they couldn’t watch the procedure being performed.
My dad has come from their house, in the middle of the night, to be with me when an emergency chest tube was put in. I was heavily sedated. I thought he was there, but I wasn’t really sure. He didn’t need to be there, and I’m pretty sure the procedure is gross to watch. But he was. My mom went with me when I needed to have fluid sucked out of my chest wall with a big needle. I’m sure that wasn’t high on her list of fun things to do with your child, but she did it. She’s changed the dressing on a second-degree burn, which, let me tell you, was not pretty. As a parent, you do plenty of things you really don’t want to do, but need done. The same applies here. Child asks, you stay.
• Really tough procedures, like trachs, g-tubes, ports, etc., that are permanent—yeah, these suck at the outset. They’re hard. In fact, trachs repell me so much that I’ve told my parents, repeatedly, that I do not ever want one unless there is absolutely noother way to keep me breathing. I’ve never had one, so my avoidance is purely based on gut-level revulsion. But if that’s what it takes to stay alive, well, we do it. I mean, that’s the name of the game—survival. I really, really, really did not want a port before I got one. I kicked and screamed (rhetorically). I didn’t want some permanent thing in me that everyone could see. (Now, almost no one can, unless they’re looking.) But it is a godsend. It makes my life 1,000 times easier, knowing that IV access isright there. Survival, in my book, is the key. Is it awful sometimes? Yes. But really, you do what you have to do. As a parent, you have to make this new apparatus as normal a part of the child’s life as possible. You cannot be repelled by it. You cannot say things like, “I hate this thing.” Your child can. But you are the child’s first societal application—if you are OK with it, that can go a long way in helping your child accept it. (When your child is older, then naturally you’re not going to be as protective.) You have to treat your child’s life as if it is normal. And it is normal—for your family. Failure to accept that makes life much harder than it has to be.
• As per the above: what about quality of life? Obviously, that’s important. But when it comes to living, then the cards, for me, tend to fall there. A good example is my hearing. It’s pretty important to me, as a singer. But before transplant, I was put on strong IV antibiotics that, we knew, damaged hearing. I knew that my hearing was already somewhat damaged when we started this drug course. I wasn’t happy about damaging it further. But we did the drugs anyway, because I would rather be alive and have the Bionic Ear than be dead with perfect hearing. Now, I wouldn’t want to be trached, permanently, if I couldn’t talk. That would really kill me, emotionally. My voice is a huge part of who I am. My entire quality of life would be shot if I was attached to a respirator all the time. But you know, I say that now. I don’t know if that’s permanent. I might have a husband and kids, and that would radically change my thinking. But right now, as a single twenty-seven year old, that’s what I feel. The thing here is that it’s subjective. My base instinct is always to preserve my life.
• At the end—the very end—I know what I want, and that is to have my death be in line with Church teachings. I’ve left it up to my parents, and of course they may consult the excellent priests we know for advice, should they require it. But this, too, goes back to point one—I trust my parents implicitly. I know they know me well enough to do right by me, if I can’t decide for myself. And for all parents/caregivers, this, I think, is where you ultimately want to be: in a place where your child trusts you to do what is right for her, and that she knows you will be there with her, no matter what option you’ve chosen. Parents, if your child is approaching this area, and they’re old enough (and able) to verbalize what they want, have a conversation about it. Your kid is probably scared enough, thinking about this, so be as supportive as you can, and try to discuss options, etc., with level heads. It’s hard. But it’s easier to talk about it before than to try to piece it together during or after.

New adventure

Sorry for the AWOL-ness this week--things have been...unsettled.
I missed my alarm TWICE this week, making me super-late for work. So on Thursday morning, when I actually got up at the appropriate time, I thought, today has to be better than the last two days. 
Eh...not so much.
If you've been reading this blog for the past month or so, you know my body's been doing it's "I hate you" dance, which drives me up a wall, especially when there seems to be no reason for this activity.
There might be a reason, after all. Found totally accidentially, during this ER run-in.
(read that, if you haven't, then come back, or the rest of this won't make sense. I'll wait.)

Musings

I know, I know, I know...I have been neglecting y'all of late.

Part of it is nothing really thrilling is going on. (OK, that's probably good, because when things are thrilling in my life, that means things are not going well, in general.) The other part is that i just haven't really had the heart to write. This week has mostly been contained in the inexplicable urge to curl up and nap. It did rain all week, so that could be it. Or it could just be general disappointment in various things.

But, as Jane says, "Let other pens dwell on disappointment. I quit such subjects as soon as I can." So, following her excellent advice, we won't dwell on that.

Late August/Early September is one of my favorite times of year. I love the change of the seasons, as summer gives way to fall; I like watching the students go off to school; I like the resumption of my activities and a regular rhythm to life. Ballet classes resume, my arts organizations that took the summer off come back, audition schedules ramp up, and football season starts! Also I just love fall--the clothes, the crispness of the air, the harvest, the time spent with family.

Yes I said harvest. I do live in Ohio, after all, and agriculture is still our biggest industry. I can drive not even five minutes from my apartment and see gorgeous fields of corn and soybeans. From my sister's high school stadium (well, her former high school), I can see acres of farmland that used to belong to a friend of mine and his family. In the markets, fresh corn is abundant (and delicious). Apples, pears, plums...they're all over the place. This is enough to make me pretty happy.

So I'll gather them and cook, and enjoy the change of seasons as we head toward fall and Christmas, which is, as we know, one of my favorite things. No day but today, friends.

(Oh...and more summer reading updates shortly...as in, right after I publish this)

Boden Fall '09 Questions

The quarterly "Qs from the Boden Catalogue"

• Worst fashion faux pas: My all-yellow (BRIGHT yellow) outfit.
• Favourite birthday present: contacts when I turned 14
• Favourite bedtime story: Sleeping Beauty
• Question I'm always asked: "So, when do you graduate from college?"
• Favourite English word: Prententious
• Most embarrassing phobia: Making unsolicited phone calls (but I can't do that anymore anyway, thank you bionic ear)
• Best thing about the 1980s: My birth
• What gets me out of bed in the morning: um....
• Most memorable road trip: Columbus to DC, winter '04
• If men got pregnant: Humanity would cases to exist
• Best way to flatter a man: LAugh at his jokes
• My cure for insomnia: milk
• What music would you listen to on a roadtrip: Anything with a good beat.
• In my next life I'm going to be: Queen of England
• Essential items to take on a road trip: Cell phone, water, map
• I always wanted to be : a ballerina
• Favourite farmyard animal: horse
• First love: Josh
• What makes you smile when you're having a bad day: "Pearls before Swine"
• I always forget: People's names the first tiem I meet them.
• Most extravagant purchase this year: my new MacBook
• Favourite party outfit: dress, pearls, heels
• Favourite accessory: pearls
• I feel more confident when: I have a great outfit
• Best restaurant anywhere in the world: Lupa, NYC
• What really bores the pants off me: NASCAR races
• What you must have on a girls' night: My camera
• Favourite cocktail: Key Lime pie martini
• The sexiest man alive is: Daniel Craig
• Best way to fall in love: slowly
• What song would you sing in a big, echo-y stairwell: "I will survive"
• Favourite fantasy: Living in the OBX with my family, writing a book
• I've never mastered: Math
• Best way to flatter a woman: tell her she's pretty
• To prepare for a night out, I: Take a long bath
• What is your best party trick: Keeping the food stocked
• Hangover cure: N/A
• Most memorable occasion of my life: Getting the t/x call
• I'm superstitious about: walking under ladders
• How do you plan to celebrate your next birthday? Dinner with all my friends
• Favourite party tipple: Champagne
• Who would your ideal party partner be: Patrick Wilson

Me in Threes

Three names I go by:
1. Em
2. Emmers
3. Emmy

Three Jobs I have had in my life:
1. Old Navy
2. Swim Club concessions
3. Congressional Intern

Three Places I have lived:
1. Pickerington, OH
2. Reynoldsburg, OH
3. Bexley, OH

Three Favorite drinks:
1. Diet Coke
2. PEach iced tea
3. coffee

Three Favorite hobbies:
1. acting
2. reading
3. writing

Three Pet Peeves:
1. Smoking
2. whiners
3. bad drivers

Three TV Shows that I watch:
1. Bones
2. Pushing Daisies (until it died. Wah!)
3. Glee

Three places I have been:
1. Houston
2. OBX
3. Chicago

People that text me regularly:
1. Mom
2. Bub
3. Tiffany

Three of my favorite foods:
1. carbonara
2. pizza
3. burgers

Three friends I think will respond
1. Abby
2. um...I got nothin'.

Three Things I am looking forward to
1. Christmas
2. Fall/winter musical auditions
3. Christmas :)

(Note on the musical auditions: they are--Wizard of Oz with Columbus Children's Theater; Jekyll and Hyde (AGAIN!) with Emerald City Players, and THe Music Man with Pleasure Guild (directed by one of my J&H castmates)

Because I can...

(And it's Monday)

A facebook note:

1. Who was your FIRST prom date?
Never had one. Sigh.

2. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?
Rarely.

3. What was your 1st alcoholic drink?
Does communion wine count?

4. Who was your FIRST kiss?
Real one--James. Real, but onstage: Dominic.

5. What was your FIRST job?
baby-sitting. FIrst job w/ taxes--the concession stand at the Swim Club

6. What was your FIRST car?
1995 Honda Civic EX 4 door

7. Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
Ha! no one has yet.

8. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
That shall remain unsaid. :)

9. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
Mrs. Lewis

10. Where was your FIRST apartment or place of your own?
The one I'm in right now.

11. your FIRST ride on an airplane?
When I was about a year old, to Maryland.

12. Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk?
Anne Neighbor, and yes.

13. Where was your FIRST sleep over?
Probably Anne's.

14. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
Christine @ work

15. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time?
My Aunt Patty's. Flower girl.

16. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
Hit the snooze button.

17. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
Probably Sesame Street Live! when I was five.

18. FIRST tattoo?
Um...none.

19. First piercing?
My ears, when I was about eight.

20. First foreign country you've been to?

Haven't done it yet.

21. FIRST movie you remember seeing?
The Great Mouse Detective

22. When was your FIRST detention?
In fifth grade, for handing in a homework slip late. (Yes, it was THAT dumb).

23. What was the first state/province you lived in?
Only lived in OH, baby.

24. Who was your FIRST roommate?
Brooke....something?

25. What was your FIRST "bad" word?
I used to think "Ass" in "What Child Is This?" was a bad word.

26. What was your FIRST broken bone?
my right humerus, second grade. Gloves and wet monkey bars do not mix

27. When did you lose your FIRST tooth?

Disney World! At breakfast!

28. If you had one wish, what would it be?
To become a world famous actress.

29. What is something you would learn if you had the time?
The violin, and Russian

30. Who do you think will be the next person to post this?
No idea. But it's fun!

Four years--"how rare and precious we all are"

So, today is my four year anniversary. Wow.

In the last year, I've re-entered the musical theater universe, had my first theatrical review (for Parade--see sidebar), been to the Outer Banks, met new cousins, made new friends, learned a lot, read a lot. It's been a good year.

So, since it's been four years, I feel qualified to give y'all a little advice.

It's really not new advice, but I think we should all hear it again from time to time.

Really enjoy your life. Every single day of it. Even when you have to go to work and deal with intractable issues, and you'd much rather be drinking a mai tai on Maui. You are alive. You get another day to be with the people you love and to experience a life that goes way, way too fast.

Sure we all have bad days. But don't make it a habit, OK? Do the things you love. Set goals and met them. Do things you think are just way out there. You love to draw, but you're terrible? So what? Do it anyway. Take classes and get better. Sing in the shower. Swing on swing sets. Do the things that make you happy.

Pray. Go to church. Get in touch with God, if you're not. I don't care where you go, but go. "The Lord has done great things for us/ we are filled with joy." If your eyes are open to a gorgeous rose, a pretty sunset, the happy face of a baby, life is a lot better. Trust me. Beauty is everywhere. We just have to be looking for it.

Wear colors that make you happy. Eat chocolate, or whatever you really, really like, every once in awhile. Bake some bread. Travel! Go places you want to go, even if it's just somewhere in your state that you've never seen.

Spend time with your family. In the end, they're the only ones that are sort of guaranteed to be sticking around.

Read Jane. Yes, it will make you happy (and I had to put that in.).

Celebrate every single birthday you have. This is very important. Getting older is not a bad thing. It's a great thing. Look at all you have done! I have this CHristmas memories book I got a few years ago. In it, it has places for parties, presents, decorations, etc., for each year. But it also has a page of "What happened this year". I write down everything--big national events, things like who got married and who was born, shows I was in, great movies I saw....and it helps me remember all the great times I have. Keeping a journal is another great way to do this.

Spend time with your friends. Remember that no one on their deathbed said, "Wow, I wish I would've worked more!" Smile. Say "Good morning" to your co-workers. Say thank you to waiters at restaurants. Hold the door open for others. Splash through a fountain barefoot.

Really, though, just enjoy the ride. It's over way too soon.

Seven Quick Takes Friday--Vol. VI

I.

I hope a lot of you had a chance to read this entry. I'm pretty proud of it and glad that Hollywood has put a story about this family onscreen. Seeing it is a much more visceral experience than reading about it.

I've read a few articles about the movie, and then the comments following, online. And I've seen a few people ask why books and movies like this are even written, then degrading the emotions of people who read them to people who view pornography--they want some sort of emotional hit. I don't know what people's psychological reasonings are for reading these books, but I'm glad they do. My family, and all the other families whose lives are just like this, need people to understand. We're not looking for pity--that's an easy emotion--but for empathy, for people to understand.

Case in point--I love birthdays. A lot of people I know don't--they don't like being reminded that they're getting older. But I love it. Each birthday is another victory for me. It's another year I got to do things, to enjoy life. I love knowing that I'm racking up more experiences and having more time here. Maybe my blog, and movies and books like My Sister's Keeper, can help people understand how precious life is.

II.

Wow, that was a long quick take. So some shorter things to follow, like: what books I've been reading. An updated list: Robert Louis Stevenson's South Seas Tales; Richard Paul Evans' The Last Promise (love, love, love his books), and, of course, Jane. Mansfield Park being started today. I'm a bit behind in the re-read this year. Oh, and Mrs. Dalloway.

III.

New favorite TV show--Bones. If you follow me on facebook or twitter, you know this. But really, fantastic show. And interesting to me, from a theological perspective. One of the main characters, Agent Booth, is very, very Catholic. His partner, Dr. "Bones" Brennan, is not. In fact, she's an atheist. But there is definite chemistry between them. I'm planning something on Booth to have up at CPG at some point--hopefully later this weekend. He's really a fascinating study.

IV.

Speaking of theology--nearing time for my Sacraments mid-term, and my first assignment is due in Biblical Studies. We're just about to start Genesis in the latter.

V.

Next week is my four year anniversary! Can you believe it? To celebrate, I'm going to visit my cousin, Di, her husband, and her baby girl in Houston. Never been, but I hear it is hot, hot, and more hot. Thank God for air conditioning! We're thinking about visiting NASA, Galveston, and a host of bookstores. :)

VI.

It's Independence Day weekend--do you know your Declaration? Brush up on it here.

VII.

And a happy, happy Independence Day to all of you. Let's go out and celebrate "Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness," eh? If you're in the mood for some patriotic movies, I suggest John Adams and The Patriot for some good viewing, especially John Adams. Phenomenal, and faster than reading the book. (I read the book. I liked it. But whew, it's long!)

The 1,000 post

(Wow, can you believe we've hit a thousand?) 

In honor of this momentous occasion, I'm doing a meme I derived from the current Boden catalogue. If you're a new or old reader, it should interest you (I hope). 

And if you've stuck around for all 1,000 posts--THANK YOU. I hope you've learned something, or, at the very least, been entertained. 

Stay on, will ya? The best is always yet to come. 

1. What is the first thing you notice about the opposite sex? Hair
2. Age I feel on the inside: 17
3. To feel better after a bad day, I: take a bath
4. Most attractive quality in a S.O: kindness
5. Most overrated invention: video games
6. I'm told I look like: Claire Danes, my mom
7. My breakfast consists of: coffee and cereal 
8. Last saintly deed: Um....hmmm. 
9. I'd love to be able to:Play the violin
10. It's not what you know, it's: How you use it
11. High point of my week: Friday night
12. The way to a woman's heart: consideration
13. I could talk for hours about: books
14. I wish I'd spent more time: writing
15. I'm surprisingly good at: mechanical things
16. I'm notorious for: my voice
17. What makes me feel glamorous: diamonds
18. If I were handed $1,000 tomorrow, I'd: buy books and Met Opera tickets
19. Favorite author: Jane!
20. What's your driving style: Fast and signal-using
21. Recent re-discovery: Beverly Cleary's Ramona books
22. I've never mastered: Math
23. Never ask a man: About old girlfriends
24. Scariest thing I've ever done: Ridden the Magnum at Cedar Point (I know, I know...)
25. Most precious (non-human possession): Caroline the bunny and Coach the bear
26. Thing that gets easier as I get older: Driving
27. If only men could: read my mind
28. Best thing about the internet: Shopping!
29. I wish I had a dollar for: Every book I've read
30. Recent discovery: L'occitane soaps
31. Never ask a  woman: her clothing size
32. If I had a year off, I would: Finish my novel and travel
33. I'm constantly embarrassed by: The way thoughts pop out of my mouth without being censored!
34. At school I never saw the point of: Diagramming sentences; the 'effort' grade
35. If my phone rings at 7 a.m.: I don't hear it
36. Survival equipment for_____ (Rehearsal): a book 

Happy birthday to...ME!

It's my birthday!
I am 27 years old.
I am so happy to be 27. I love getting older, and being healthy!
If I hadn't gotten my transplant, I wouldn't have seen 24.
Thank you, Suzanne, for giving me this wonderful birthday.

Picture of the Week

A picture's worth a thousand words...

More on this here. 

The twenty-five year Christmas Gift

Most Christmas gifts have a few month lifespan, especially toys. 

The Barbie dollhouse? Don't remember what happened to that.

Cinderella's castle? Ditto. 

The Cinderella princess tent? We probably destroyed that one. 

But there was one Christmas present that endured for 25 years. 

The Care Bear Kitchen set. 

I don't really remember this, except through pictures, but apparently I really wanted this toy. It was like my version of "Tickle Me, Elmo" or whatever.  I was probably about 4 and I wanted this toy with some sort of greed, let me tell you. Now, given that in my four years of Santa Experience, he had never let me down, I was pretty sure I would find it in our family room come Christmas. 

So that morning I head downstairs and being ripping into the presents. I figure that this toy would have to be assembled, but I didn't really think about that. As I was doing my thing my parents were helping Bryan with his Christmas toys (he was only about 1 or so). 

As the packages thinned, it dawned on me that the kitchen set was not there. As in, it hadn't appeared. I hadn't gotten it. The polaroid of this moment shows me in my Strawberry Shortcake pajamas, looking very, very sad. Like my best friend had died sad. 

That was until my dad opened the doors to the basement. 

Now our basement in this house was small and oddly shaped. The stairs dead-ended into a wall and you had to turn left for any sort of open space. So my dad led me down because, you know, these are dark stairs and I'm not going down them alone. 

And there, lo and behold, on the dark red carpet, is the kitchen set.  A "fridge" with the Care Bears painted on the doors and a stove, with the bears painted on the backsplash. Of course there were also various food and kitchen products (non-care bear). W

I was in heaven. I loved this thing. The second polaroid shows me in mid-jump as I discovered that Santa had not abandoned me after all. 

Well this set lasted many, many moons. The stove part met its death in the early 1990s, but the fridge (which was really a few shelves covered by the door) lasted a very, very long time. The door was removed and it became a set of book shelves.  It has been in our basement since we moved to the house, in May of 1990. 

When I came over to the house this year, on Thanksgiving, I noticed it had reached Its End and was piled at the curb, next to the Trash Can. 

So many Christmas toys that you are dying to have disappear without a trace. But this kitchen set endured and gave us many years of faithful service. That can't be said for a lot of toys. 

I salute the Care Bear Kitchen Set. 

Blah and stuff

OK so this week has been really super duper blah.
I'm not sure quite what's wrong with me, but first there was no appetite. Then there was no appetite and nausea. Then today there was no appetite "let's sleep ALL DAY", which I did, from about 6:30 to 3:30.
Yeah, that's weird.
I don't know if it's the weather or my body just being odd, but this has not been fun. Tonight my parents came over and brought Chinese, which helped, so I now feel human.
Maybe it's the weather.
But anyway, if I have been ignoring you, it's not because I don't love y'all--it's just my body hates me. I think, though, it's done doing that.

Single and Complicated

(note: if you do not like posts that have to deal with a 20-something's romantic frustration, then scroll down and read some poetry. Or....something.)

My romantic life has always been a little bit complicated.  I mean, beyond usual complicated. 

I didn't really "date" (if you can say high school freshman "date") until I was 13 and in high school. This was OK with me. I had crushes before, but when you're in seventh grade crushes mostly consist of getting the boy you like to dance with you at a chaperoned dance in the gymnasium, whilst you stand a foot apart under the watch of your math teacher. 

In high school I had one boyfriend. I didn't really mind, although I did develop other crushes. We dated on and off for the first three years of school. He was a good friend, and he didn't really mind any "issues" that came with me, because, at that point, there weren't that many. I mean, we didn't go on dates after school or anything. Everything we did was weekends or school events (like French club trips). Your lives are fairly segregated in the early years of high school. 

College, I was engaged. Now there were many reasons that relationship didn't work, but my health wasn't really one of them. He was fine with all of that, behaving heroically through my ICU stint and other (less dramatic) hospital admissions. I don't know many guys who would've done that. And for awhile I stayed in that relationship because I thought that no one else would be able to handle all that came with being my significant other. 

But, regardless, we broke up right after our Junior year. So single again--all through the t/x, etc. which was fine. The last thing I needed was having to reassure a guy that I was going to be OK, yada yada yada. That's not the most fun thing to do when all you want is for someone to be telling you those things. 

So in 2006, a year post-tx, I started dating again. A nice guy. We got along well. But he had major issues with my health and the uncertainty it brings. And even though I told him that no one's future is secure (this was after 9/11 for crying out loud) it didn't work, and he was my first ever hospital break-up (it was done over the phone). 

Now I'm non-dating again, but there is one person that I can't get out of my head. It's sort of torturous. And so, being that is it was it is (and knowing that we cannot, at this moment, have a relationship due to extenuating circumstances), I sort of feel like romantic crap. 

(OK, yes, this is probably a whiny post. But it does go  along with the whole post-tx mentality so that's why it's here.)

I need to be with a guy who knows my situation and doesn't really care. Not that I don't want him to care--I need him to know what it entails--but he needs to be able to deal. He can't look at me and be pondering when I'm going to drop dead on him. 

The worst part about this whole unrequited love thing is that it is just that. I really, really hate dreaming about things you can't have (who doesn't?).  

The thing that really makes this hard is we have known each other for so long; therefore, he knows absolutely everything about me.  That makes dating so, so much easier than having to have the Big Talk. 

OK, rant over. (Was this a rant?) I just needed to get that out.