Lately, in my world: I tried a snack delivery service, made a to-go salad worth bragging about, and I've started jogging, a little.
I tried Graze, the snack subscription service, and it was pretty cool. You can customize what kinds of snacks you prefer, or what ingredients you don't like, and they send you boxes weekly, monthly, whatever. I tried it for five weeks and if I had the disposable income, I would keep it, but alas. I do not. I do however have a code for a free box! If you use this code - YFD764WFE - when you sign up, you get your first box free (I also get a free box). You can cancel if you don't like it and there's no charge!
That awesome salad was a perfect storm of inspiration and opportunity. I grabbed a big canning jar out of the cabinet, and dumped a cup of leftover curried couscous in. Then I layered some dry-fried mushrooms, frozen vegetables and almonds, and then as much romaine lettuce as I could stuff in there. Then I smashed it down a bit more to get some lentil sprouts on top. When it was time to eat, I dumped it all out into a large bowl, topped it with a healthy wad of hummus, and had a serious salad party.
I'm been sprouting those lentils myself, and it is super easy! Just add a 1/4 cup of lentils to a jar (or more, but remember that they will grow), rinse and strain with water, then cover. Rinse them every day, and that's it! Sprouts in days! And to make rinsing even easier, I just add water to the jar, shake, then dump it out on the back of a screen strainer, so the lentils/sprouts all stay in the jar neatly. It seriously could not be easier.
And I've started jogging a bit on walks, just in place while the dogs do their thing, or gently on the level bits. Sometimes it hurts my head, but if I've gauged my situation correctly it usually doesn't, and that, my friends, is progress.
The heat of summer has fully arrived to our woods and I'm feeling it. My head hurts more and faster as the day warms up and if I don't get moving early, I may not move at all.
My friend had a dream in which I escaped my headaches by turning into a fish. Honestly, I've heard worse suggestions.
More...
Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reviews. Show all posts
Friday, June 26, 2015
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Layering Stink Upon Stink is Not The Answer
Whenever I see those febreeze commercials that feature blindfolded people in disgusting places remarking on the freshness of their environment, I imagine what would happen if I found myself somehow wrangled into one of those situations.
It would play out very differently than the commercials we see on tv. I'd be guided to the shipping crate full of feces that has been thoroughly drenched in febreeze, and unlike my companions, who will ooooh and aaaah over the fabric-softener scented wonderland they've found themselves in, I'll be coughing and holding my head for dear life while exclaiming things like, "Is this a febreeze commercial? JENKINS it stinks like perfume ass death in here!"
It's probably not the message they're looking for.
More...
It would play out very differently than the commercials we see on tv. I'd be guided to the shipping crate full of feces that has been thoroughly drenched in febreeze, and unlike my companions, who will ooooh and aaaah over the fabric-softener scented wonderland they've found themselves in, I'll be coughing and holding my head for dear life while exclaiming things like, "Is this a febreeze commercial? JENKINS it stinks like perfume ass death in here!"
It's probably not the message they're looking for.
More...
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Acupuncture! Finally!
I was referred to an acupuncture clinic put on by a local school. And I went!
The place was awesome; it's called Five Branches, and I found both the administrative staff and my acupuncturist to be helpful, knowledgeable, and totally unscented.
The acupuncturist was an intern, a week from graduation. We talked about my health for a while, he took my pulses, looked at my tongue, then stuck some needles in me. I wasn't nervous until he was prepping the needles and rubbing alcohol on various points of my body. I asked him if he would warn me before sticking me and unlike the dentist of surprise sticks I visited recently, he readily agreed and very respectfully gave me plenty of warning for each insertion. It was a breeze, really. I felt a few of the pricks when they first went in (heh), but they hurt much less than when I jab myself with a sewing needle. And then he had me lay there for a while, so I tried to relax and every now and again peeked at the long, thin needles sticking out of my hands, feet, and stomach. If I'd had a mirror available, I could have seen the crown of needles on my head, but alas, the room was mirrorless.
He came back in and popped the needles out and I was on my way. He recommended I come once a week, or as often as possible. I hope to be able to make it that frequently, but getting off our mountain isn't so easy for me. Why no in-home acupuncture Five Branches? In fact, why no in-home medical care for everyone who needs it? Y NO?
State and federally provided health insurance don't cover acupuncture, so we're paying out of pocket. The clinic does offer a good discount for those of us on Medicare though, so that's a bright spot. Also, the clinic was nicely lit, and there was a sign in the lobby asking patients to refrain from wearing fragrances. I love those signs!
I haven't seen any definitive difference yet, but I really wouldn't expect to after only one visit. I'm so glad to be finally trying acupuncture! It's such a controversial field of study, I can't help but be intrigued by whether I'll see any changes. I'll definitely be updating as far as further appointments and results.
More...
The place was awesome; it's called Five Branches, and I found both the administrative staff and my acupuncturist to be helpful, knowledgeable, and totally unscented.
The acupuncturist was an intern, a week from graduation. We talked about my health for a while, he took my pulses, looked at my tongue, then stuck some needles in me. I wasn't nervous until he was prepping the needles and rubbing alcohol on various points of my body. I asked him if he would warn me before sticking me and unlike the dentist of surprise sticks I visited recently, he readily agreed and very respectfully gave me plenty of warning for each insertion. It was a breeze, really. I felt a few of the pricks when they first went in (heh), but they hurt much less than when I jab myself with a sewing needle. And then he had me lay there for a while, so I tried to relax and every now and again peeked at the long, thin needles sticking out of my hands, feet, and stomach. If I'd had a mirror available, I could have seen the crown of needles on my head, but alas, the room was mirrorless.
He came back in and popped the needles out and I was on my way. He recommended I come once a week, or as often as possible. I hope to be able to make it that frequently, but getting off our mountain isn't so easy for me. Why no in-home acupuncture Five Branches? In fact, why no in-home medical care for everyone who needs it? Y NO?
State and federally provided health insurance don't cover acupuncture, so we're paying out of pocket. The clinic does offer a good discount for those of us on Medicare though, so that's a bright spot. Also, the clinic was nicely lit, and there was a sign in the lobby asking patients to refrain from wearing fragrances. I love those signs!
I haven't seen any definitive difference yet, but I really wouldn't expect to after only one visit. I'm so glad to be finally trying acupuncture! It's such a controversial field of study, I can't help but be intrigued by whether I'll see any changes. I'll definitely be updating as far as further appointments and results.
More...
Friday, March 27, 2015
Homeopathy and Supplements
I've got a small cache of homeopathic treatments that I've been sitting on.
Some of these products I've been collecting are clearly junk and some of them I used a few times without any obvious results, so I put them away one day and forgot about them completely for months, sometimes years. Much of this collection was part of a care package the lovely Jessica at Painfully Speaking sent to me, so many moons ago. I used some of her gifts immediately and completely, and others... got dusty in the bin. But all that is changing right now. I received a new supplement to sample, and the ingredients list looks no more remarkable than my multivitamin, but I'm going to give it an enthusiastic try because why not. I can't help but doubt that it will do anything miraculous for me, but because that feeling of amused skepticism reminded me of that dusty little homeopathy bin in my nightstand, I'm also going to spend the month using every single one of these until they are gone. Let the woo begin!
Day 1 - I started taking HCF Happy, Calm, Focused pills. (My full review is at the bottom of the post). I used Head Clear on my temples, and three Migraide pills every hour for three hours. Nothing did anything, but it was distracting.
Day 2 - I'm having a lot of muscle tension in my neck and back. I stuck an Aculief on each hand and felt a small amount of relief. I actually like these, but at over $30 with shipping, if I hadn't received mine from Heather at War on Headaches, I never would have tried them. Call me cheap, but I can always squeeze my own hand for free.
Day 3 - Discovered a hot spot on my dog, my ensuing minor freak-out called for a dose of 911 Stress Control Spray. Just moving to get the spray made me feel more in control, which I think is common for *minor* stress and anxiety. Once you make the choice to feel better, you start feeling somewhat better.
Day 5 - Again, used the stress spray and again noted that the very thought of using it calmed me down. This is really useful information and makes me think I need to be better about self-soothing rituals in general. I've been using the supplements for a few days now, and so far, I see no difference, though I do get to practice a pill-swallowing technique I just learned. If it's a tablet, swallow with your chin up, but if it's a capsule - because they float - swallow with your chin down. These are capsules, and I can't tell you how many times I've gagged on them in the past, but now I have no issues!
Day 8 - I've got a stubborn headache; not my worst ever, just persistent. So, I'm using everything today. I've got an aculief on each hand, I'm popping Migraide every hour, spraying anti-stress spray whenever I start feeling anxious or irrationally angry, and I started out with just a little head clear on my temples but cracked the roll-top open and have escalated to smearing it all over my neck and shoulders. Aaaahhh minty. Unfortunately, the aculiefs only lasted five minutes before they became excruciating, a problem I have on my allodynia days. Nothing else seemed to effect the migraine, but again, the process of administering all these treatments to myself was sort of soothing on its own. The migraine lasted a few more days, eventually petering itself out overnight long after I ran out of Migraide.
Day 13 - I still like the aculiefs, but their claim that you can wear them during normal activities is a bit of a stretch. Because these things don't. Stretch. And when they do, they don't relapse quickly enough to keep them from popping off every time I use my hands for anything.
Day 11 - So the headache oil officially does nothing for me, but I'm using it until it's gone because i like the minty-lavender smell.
Day 15 - I can't tolerate the aculiefs at all right now, I'm so tender. I don't normally have trouble sleeping - in fact I'm nodding off at 9 pm every night - so I hadn't had a chance to try these homeopathic lozenges for better sleep called Moon Drops. Oddly, it was the only night all month that I woke up suddenly in the wee hours, feeling physically restless and anxious, though I did fall back to sleep quickly.
Day 18 - My boyfriend was nervous for surgery so I made him use the Stress Control spray and he scoffed, but used it and then stopped complaining about being nervous, so hmmm.
Day 20 - The really nice thing about the Head Clear is that is doesn't make me break out, like so many commercial products do. It's a lovely massage oil, and I'll likely refill it with my own diy version when it's gone because I love the smell. I miss scented products, so I can't help to indulge when I find something I can tolerate.
Day 21 - Used the moon drops again last night, I was amped up from a long day and evening with friends and couldn't relax enough to sleep. Like, it was 2 am and I was scrolling compulsively through tumblr as if I hadn't already absorbed possible every meme and otp into my eyeballs six times. But it finally occurred to me to take one and I forced myself to lay down with Jumbline (an anagram game for smartphones, i love it), and was asleep within half an hour.
Day 25 - I'm disappointed that I'm not feeling a difference with the capsules, and I feel silly for feeling disappointed. Per my limited searching, the amino acids in HCF could be very beneficial to a person, but I think that person needs to be deficient in those amino acids for it to matter.
And the rest of the month was uneventful. Here's the supplement review, which I also posted on Amazon.
All in all, this was not the worst experiment ever. There were no side effects, and that stress spray actually has a pretty good record! I'll continue to use the products I didn't finish and will update if anything interesting happens.
Ever onward!
As always, my opinions are my own and can never be bought. I've provided links to the products I tried but I don't receive any compensation if you click them or buy the products. I just thought a reference would be helpful since I didn't want to take my own pictures.
More...
Some of these products I've been collecting are clearly junk and some of them I used a few times without any obvious results, so I put them away one day and forgot about them completely for months, sometimes years. Much of this collection was part of a care package the lovely Jessica at Painfully Speaking sent to me, so many moons ago. I used some of her gifts immediately and completely, and others... got dusty in the bin. But all that is changing right now. I received a new supplement to sample, and the ingredients list looks no more remarkable than my multivitamin, but I'm going to give it an enthusiastic try because why not. I can't help but doubt that it will do anything miraculous for me, but because that feeling of amused skepticism reminded me of that dusty little homeopathy bin in my nightstand, I'm also going to spend the month using every single one of these until they are gone. Let the woo begin!
Day 1 - I started taking HCF Happy, Calm, Focused pills. (My full review is at the bottom of the post). I used Head Clear on my temples, and three Migraide pills every hour for three hours. Nothing did anything, but it was distracting.
Day 2 - I'm having a lot of muscle tension in my neck and back. I stuck an Aculief on each hand and felt a small amount of relief. I actually like these, but at over $30 with shipping, if I hadn't received mine from Heather at War on Headaches, I never would have tried them. Call me cheap, but I can always squeeze my own hand for free.
Day 3 - Discovered a hot spot on my dog, my ensuing minor freak-out called for a dose of 911 Stress Control Spray. Just moving to get the spray made me feel more in control, which I think is common for *minor* stress and anxiety. Once you make the choice to feel better, you start feeling somewhat better.
Day 5 - Again, used the stress spray and again noted that the very thought of using it calmed me down. This is really useful information and makes me think I need to be better about self-soothing rituals in general. I've been using the supplements for a few days now, and so far, I see no difference, though I do get to practice a pill-swallowing technique I just learned. If it's a tablet, swallow with your chin up, but if it's a capsule - because they float - swallow with your chin down. These are capsules, and I can't tell you how many times I've gagged on them in the past, but now I have no issues!
Day 8 - I've got a stubborn headache; not my worst ever, just persistent. So, I'm using everything today. I've got an aculief on each hand, I'm popping Migraide every hour, spraying anti-stress spray whenever I start feeling anxious or irrationally angry, and I started out with just a little head clear on my temples but cracked the roll-top open and have escalated to smearing it all over my neck and shoulders. Aaaahhh minty. Unfortunately, the aculiefs only lasted five minutes before they became excruciating, a problem I have on my allodynia days. Nothing else seemed to effect the migraine, but again, the process of administering all these treatments to myself was sort of soothing on its own. The migraine lasted a few more days, eventually petering itself out overnight long after I ran out of Migraide.
Day 13 - I still like the aculiefs, but their claim that you can wear them during normal activities is a bit of a stretch. Because these things don't. Stretch. And when they do, they don't relapse quickly enough to keep them from popping off every time I use my hands for anything.
Day 11 - So the headache oil officially does nothing for me, but I'm using it until it's gone because i like the minty-lavender smell.
Day 15 - I can't tolerate the aculiefs at all right now, I'm so tender. I don't normally have trouble sleeping - in fact I'm nodding off at 9 pm every night - so I hadn't had a chance to try these homeopathic lozenges for better sleep called Moon Drops. Oddly, it was the only night all month that I woke up suddenly in the wee hours, feeling physically restless and anxious, though I did fall back to sleep quickly.
Day 18 - My boyfriend was nervous for surgery so I made him use the Stress Control spray and he scoffed, but used it and then stopped complaining about being nervous, so hmmm.
Day 20 - The really nice thing about the Head Clear is that is doesn't make me break out, like so many commercial products do. It's a lovely massage oil, and I'll likely refill it with my own diy version when it's gone because I love the smell. I miss scented products, so I can't help to indulge when I find something I can tolerate.
Day 21 - Used the moon drops again last night, I was amped up from a long day and evening with friends and couldn't relax enough to sleep. Like, it was 2 am and I was scrolling compulsively through tumblr as if I hadn't already absorbed possible every meme and otp into my eyeballs six times. But it finally occurred to me to take one and I forced myself to lay down with Jumbline (an anagram game for smartphones, i love it), and was asleep within half an hour.
Day 25 - I'm disappointed that I'm not feeling a difference with the capsules, and I feel silly for feeling disappointed. Per my limited searching, the amino acids in HCF could be very beneficial to a person, but I think that person needs to be deficient in those amino acids for it to matter.
And the rest of the month was uneventful. Here's the supplement review, which I also posted on Amazon.
HCF Happy, Calm, Focused contains a variety of minerals, B vitamins, and amino acids. The two amino acids, DL-Phenylalanine and L-Glutamine, do reputedly have restorative properties, but have not been proven in clinical settings.
I tried HCF for a month; three pills every morning, half an hour before breakfast. I don't normally have a problem with pills, but these capsules were determined to float and nearly every time I took them I felt like they'd lodged in my chest. It was only after I'd eat (at least half an hour later) that the feeling would go away. I normally take a multivitamin, but I replaced it with HCF for the month, though I still took an iron pill daily, because I'm anemic. I noticed no changes in mood, nor in my concentration. If anything, my chronic migraines have been worse. I do recommend vitamins to anyone who has a vitamin deficiency, or even if they just make you feel more secure in your health, but I can't recommend HCF. It's not a complete multivitamin, it's not USP verified, at 30 bucks per bottle it's more costly than equivalent supplements, and ultimately, I saw no changes in my mood or concentration.
I was given a free bottle of HCF to try, in exchange for this review, and I've been advised that I'll receive another once the review is posted. With that bottle, I'll try a higher dose, and I'll report back any significant findings.
All in all, this was not the worst experiment ever. There were no side effects, and that stress spray actually has a pretty good record! I'll continue to use the products I didn't finish and will update if anything interesting happens.
Ever onward!
As always, my opinions are my own and can never be bought. I've provided links to the products I tried but I don't receive any compensation if you click them or buy the products. I just thought a reference would be helpful since I didn't want to take my own pictures.
More...
Monday, September 8, 2014
What is Good
I'm still quite a bit in survival mode right now.
The IC is calming down finally, but now my period has started for another whiz-bang of a pelvic party. Ibuprofen helps with the cramps, but I am chained to the house for the first several days of my periods just for their heaviness, and besides that my head is so, so sensitive, and now I'm finding myself feeling sad and really lonely, so I've decided that I need to focus on what is good.
~*~**~*~A List of What is Good~*~**~*~
Daiya Cheddar (I'm still on the IC diet, and still praising the vegan overlords for the soy-free, dairy-free genius that is this stuff)
Avocado
The hit 90's tv series Charmed, starring Shannen Doherty, Holly Marie Combs, and Alyssa Milano
Pot, which is saving my head, and the bubbler that is saving my lungs
Being able to exercise
Tumblr (I'm starting to lose time, so it may be time to back away)
My boyfriend. Having support is invaluable.
The internet, at large. It is my lifeline, and my major time sucker. Pros and cons.
Tortillas. Everything is better wrapped in a tortilla.
Books. The thing about rereading old favorites is that the book stays the same but sometimes we've changed. The same happens with all kinds of things, but books are so personal to me, it's always surprising to reread something I've read a thousand times and have totally new thoughts about it.
Sleep. Just can't get enough.
A night warm enough to have the windows open and the sound of crickets lulling me to sleep.
Dogs, because they help me live in the moment, and find joy in just being alive.
More...
The IC is calming down finally, but now my period has started for another whiz-bang of a pelvic party. Ibuprofen helps with the cramps, but I am chained to the house for the first several days of my periods just for their heaviness, and besides that my head is so, so sensitive, and now I'm finding myself feeling sad and really lonely, so I've decided that I need to focus on what is good.
~*~**~*~A List of What is Good~*~**~*~
Daiya Cheddar (I'm still on the IC diet, and still praising the vegan overlords for the soy-free, dairy-free genius that is this stuff)
Avocado
The hit 90's tv series Charmed, starring Shannen Doherty, Holly Marie Combs, and Alyssa Milano
Pot, which is saving my head, and the bubbler that is saving my lungs
Being able to exercise
Tumblr (I'm starting to lose time, so it may be time to back away)
My boyfriend. Having support is invaluable.
The internet, at large. It is my lifeline, and my major time sucker. Pros and cons.
Tortillas. Everything is better wrapped in a tortilla.
Books. The thing about rereading old favorites is that the book stays the same but sometimes we've changed. The same happens with all kinds of things, but books are so personal to me, it's always surprising to reread something I've read a thousand times and have totally new thoughts about it.
Sleep. Just can't get enough.
A night warm enough to have the windows open and the sound of crickets lulling me to sleep.
Dogs, because they help me live in the moment, and find joy in just being alive.
More...
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Food and Measuring Moments
So this has been my worst Interstitial Cystitis flare since I started actively managing it, and as a result, my diet is ridiculous.
I went mostly vegan almost a year ago, which cut out 99% of dairy, eggs and seafood from my diet. It's been going great and I haven't looked back, but now I'm faced with some severe dietary restrictions to heal my urinary tract and eating has become complicated in a whole new way.
The IC diet actually encourages dairy, which is annoying, but eliminates all acidic foods (tomatoes, citrus, pineapple, vinegar), most spices (cinnamon, paprika, cumin), soy (tofu, soy sauce, almost all the veggie burger type products), onions, pickles, chilis, and basically 80% of the ingredients I use in every dish I make.
So, I've been eating a lot of potatoes, brown rice, beans, and veggies, and thankfully avocados are still safe. Eating so blandly has made it difficult to get adequate calories some days, so I've started eating selective junk foods (kettle chips, nutter butters, mmmm) and I've started cooking with oil again, occasionally.
Another blessing has been daiya cheddar. It's fake cheese that isn't made from soy and it's seriously saved my taste buds on days when I could not cook and had to whip up a plain potato burrito, or something similarly sad. It tastes like a cross between cheddar, american cheese, and nacho cheese, the last two of which are totally nostalgic flavors for me, so I feel like I'm getting that childhood treat when in actuality I just feel too crappy to make myself anything better. We take what pleasure we can get. It's also particularly tasty over a baked potato and a load of steamed broccoli, which is what I had for lunch today.
The pain is slowly decreasing, but I keep accidentally eating foods that are tainted with irritants and now I suspect that my multi-vitamin is triggering pain, which is ironic because I'm only taking it because I'm having trouble nourishing myself on the IC diet.
Hahahahasob.
My head's been temperamental lately, too; the weather, the IC, my restricted diet, the abdominal assault my period waged on my body last week, who even knows the triggers at this point, I'm just trying to keep my sanity.
When I feel like this, just raw from the surviving, every bit of tenderness that's sent my way feels transcendent, small kindnesses are miracles, and beauty is almost painful to behold. I woke early one morning to a fogged-in forest and despite my aching eyes, throbbing back (WHY? IDK), loneliness and hopelessness, the branches of the towering redwoods faded into the fog in such a way that I thought I might die from the magic of it.
Blessed are the poor and sick, for we know the true measure of a moment.
More...
I went mostly vegan almost a year ago, which cut out 99% of dairy, eggs and seafood from my diet. It's been going great and I haven't looked back, but now I'm faced with some severe dietary restrictions to heal my urinary tract and eating has become complicated in a whole new way.
The IC diet actually encourages dairy, which is annoying, but eliminates all acidic foods (tomatoes, citrus, pineapple, vinegar), most spices (cinnamon, paprika, cumin), soy (tofu, soy sauce, almost all the veggie burger type products), onions, pickles, chilis, and basically 80% of the ingredients I use in every dish I make.
So, I've been eating a lot of potatoes, brown rice, beans, and veggies, and thankfully avocados are still safe. Eating so blandly has made it difficult to get adequate calories some days, so I've started eating selective junk foods (kettle chips, nutter butters, mmmm) and I've started cooking with oil again, occasionally.
Another blessing has been daiya cheddar. It's fake cheese that isn't made from soy and it's seriously saved my taste buds on days when I could not cook and had to whip up a plain potato burrito, or something similarly sad. It tastes like a cross between cheddar, american cheese, and nacho cheese, the last two of which are totally nostalgic flavors for me, so I feel like I'm getting that childhood treat when in actuality I just feel too crappy to make myself anything better. We take what pleasure we can get. It's also particularly tasty over a baked potato and a load of steamed broccoli, which is what I had for lunch today.
The pain is slowly decreasing, but I keep accidentally eating foods that are tainted with irritants and now I suspect that my multi-vitamin is triggering pain, which is ironic because I'm only taking it because I'm having trouble nourishing myself on the IC diet.
Hahahahasob.
My head's been temperamental lately, too; the weather, the IC, my restricted diet, the abdominal assault my period waged on my body last week, who even knows the triggers at this point, I'm just trying to keep my sanity.
When I feel like this, just raw from the surviving, every bit of tenderness that's sent my way feels transcendent, small kindnesses are miracles, and beauty is almost painful to behold. I woke early one morning to a fogged-in forest and despite my aching eyes, throbbing back (WHY? IDK), loneliness and hopelessness, the branches of the towering redwoods faded into the fog in such a way that I thought I might die from the magic of it.
Blessed are the poor and sick, for we know the true measure of a moment.
More...
Monday, July 28, 2014
Fitness, Limits, and Flares
Even with how hard I've worked to get physically fit, my head is only slightly better. I'm grateful for the improvements I do feel; I can get out a little more easily, my recuperation time is usually less, and the pain and debilitation are, on average, less than they were when I was neither exercising nor eating vegan.
But I have definitely hit a wall.
My body continues to get leaner and stronger, but my head is stubbornly refusing to improve any further. Which I thought was funny this morning, when I recalled that my burning lungs and aching legs were what used to stop me from reaching the top of our hill when I first started out. Now, I make it to the top wishing I had farther to go, and I wish I could run marathons but my head won't allow more than a few minutes of jogging.
I have been able to continue my now daily hikes with the dogs during this petit heat wave by going out as soon as I wake up, and waking up early. I'm risking getting eaten by a mountain lion, but there aren't that many of them out here, so I think my odds are good. Hopefully! I carry mace, that comforts me a little.
The yoga continues, and my balance has gotten so much better, but those inverted poses still elude me most of the time. But then I feel like an ass for complaining at all, because I used to not be able to touch my toes, because I couldn't reach and because my head wouldn't allow it, but now I can, I just have to breathe carefully. There are improvements. I can see them. I just want more, and I don't think I'm going to get it.
I've graduated from doing pushups in cat pose to doing regular modified pushups, and that feels awesome, but again, it's something I have to breathe through very carefully.
Besides all that fitnessy stuff, I really miss school. I don't know if I can attend a class and exercise at the same time. And take care of my dogs. And myself. I don't know! But I want to try. I have been playing around with some free online courses, like what they have on coursera, I only wish they had a broader selection. And that I could earn a degree that way, that would be nice!
I'm in the middle of an IC flare, so that hurts. It was triggered by a few things, I think. it's tomato season, number one. And probably numbers two through five, I was really having a tomato party for a while there. Then, there were the popsicles; ice lollies, frozen fruits bars, whatever you call them. I bought some from the store without reading the label (I know, WHO AM I??) and they had some kind of fake sugar in them. Before I even realized that though, we got some popsicle molds from the dollar store, and I filled them up with a green juice, naked or green monster or something, and they were DELICIOUS, but acidic as hell so the combination stripped my poor urethra of its protective linings and now I'm crying every other piss. All I can do is restrict my diet severely (no hot sauce or tomatoes, how will I even live) and take baking soda and antacids a few times a day.
In comparison, my head seems mild. Except for the nausea, god it is just ever-present lately. But I've been using these nice ginger chews, called Reed's. They're yummy and really helpful and much less sugar than a whole ginger ale.
I miss being able to write here frequently. I've lost my voice, it seems. I wish I had a working camera, images never fail me.
Hope you all are well. And thanks for reading. <3 More...
But I have definitely hit a wall.
My body continues to get leaner and stronger, but my head is stubbornly refusing to improve any further. Which I thought was funny this morning, when I recalled that my burning lungs and aching legs were what used to stop me from reaching the top of our hill when I first started out. Now, I make it to the top wishing I had farther to go, and I wish I could run marathons but my head won't allow more than a few minutes of jogging.
I have been able to continue my now daily hikes with the dogs during this petit heat wave by going out as soon as I wake up, and waking up early. I'm risking getting eaten by a mountain lion, but there aren't that many of them out here, so I think my odds are good. Hopefully! I carry mace, that comforts me a little.
The yoga continues, and my balance has gotten so much better, but those inverted poses still elude me most of the time. But then I feel like an ass for complaining at all, because I used to not be able to touch my toes, because I couldn't reach and because my head wouldn't allow it, but now I can, I just have to breathe carefully. There are improvements. I can see them. I just want more, and I don't think I'm going to get it.
I've graduated from doing pushups in cat pose to doing regular modified pushups, and that feels awesome, but again, it's something I have to breathe through very carefully.
Besides all that fitnessy stuff, I really miss school. I don't know if I can attend a class and exercise at the same time. And take care of my dogs. And myself. I don't know! But I want to try. I have been playing around with some free online courses, like what they have on coursera, I only wish they had a broader selection. And that I could earn a degree that way, that would be nice!
I'm in the middle of an IC flare, so that hurts. It was triggered by a few things, I think. it's tomato season, number one. And probably numbers two through five, I was really having a tomato party for a while there. Then, there were the popsicles; ice lollies, frozen fruits bars, whatever you call them. I bought some from the store without reading the label (I know, WHO AM I??) and they had some kind of fake sugar in them. Before I even realized that though, we got some popsicle molds from the dollar store, and I filled them up with a green juice, naked or green monster or something, and they were DELICIOUS, but acidic as hell so the combination stripped my poor urethra of its protective linings and now I'm crying every other piss. All I can do is restrict my diet severely (no hot sauce or tomatoes, how will I even live) and take baking soda and antacids a few times a day.
In comparison, my head seems mild. Except for the nausea, god it is just ever-present lately. But I've been using these nice ginger chews, called Reed's. They're yummy and really helpful and much less sugar than a whole ginger ale.
I miss being able to write here frequently. I've lost my voice, it seems. I wish I had a working camera, images never fail me.
Hope you all are well. And thanks for reading. <3 More...
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Health and Tools
When I first switched over to a low-oil, vegan diet, I was concerned about making sure I would be getting the right amounts of nutrients.
(Content Note: This post discusses disordered eating and dieting.) I've been warning people of my impending veganism for a few years. I'm not a person who makes life changes on a whim, and I make it a point to go into any and every situation with as much information as my brain can hold. I've been working up to it because it's not an easy thing to be vegan in this world, especially being a chronic migraineur and so incapacitated some days that I can't cook at all. I knew my best chance of success lie with educating myself, because if I allowed myself to become nutritionally deficient, I could get sicker. And I also worried about my mental health.
My history of disordered eating has made this change an interesting one for me. Because I have this history, dieting in any way is a minefield. I have to ride this fine line of paying close attention to what I eat, but not obsessing. Exercising frequently, but not too much. I have not been entirely successful in my past attempts to healthfully diet, mental slips have happened, bad habits have reignited, and I've slid down that slippery slope too many times to enter into any exercise or dietary changes without a certain amount of trepidation. I hesitated to embrace these changes I've been wanting to make for years because I wanted to do it right, and I wanted to make sure I stayed ok.
So, education: There are a myriad number of ways to learn about food and nutrition. Some of the sources I've delved into include: documentaries (Super Size Me; Food Inc; Forks Over Knives; Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead), tv series (Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution), books (The Food Revolution, The China Study), cookbooks (Veganomicon), and blogs (Happy Herbivore).
I also took nutrition and health courses at my local community college, which gave me a lot of information about biology and how our bodies use food. Learning the objective facts of nutrition has been excellent for beating back those always-wrong demons that continue to live in my head. They'll always be there, I think, but facts sure do keep them quieter.
I decided pretty early on that I would need some kind of monitoring system in place, and while hand-tallying my calories would surely have led to obsessive thoughts and behavior, I was excited to realize that using an app for the same purpose hasn't had (too) much of that effect at all. The first and only app I tried is My Fitness Pal for Android, and it has been really helpful for keeping me accountable.
Upon sign-up, I entered my weight, my activity level and my goals into the app, and it formulated a basic caloric-intake plan for me. Every day since, I've entered 99% of my food and exercise, the app tallies up all the micro and macro nutrients, adds and subtracts calories consumed and burned, tells me how I'm meeting my immediate needs, and, even better, allows me to see my patterns and progress over time. Check it out, you guys: CHARTS!!!!
Look at that progress! It's so much easier to keep going when I can see the evidence of all the hard work I've put in so far. (Also, this is my excuse for the sparse blogging happening around here. I've been busy hiking! SEE!)
This app is good for dieters because it's easy to see how each meal, each food, each ingredient can influence your overall nutritional intake, and it makes it easier to make good choices, when we can immediately experience our consequences. This app can also be a good tool for people with eating or exercise disorders, because it holds us accountable for eating enough calories, and gives a red-tinged alert if the daily tally isn't sustainable.
However, I haven't made it through this without a single unhealthy thought or behavior, just less of them than I've experienced in the past. I'm not recommending this app as any kind of a panacea for ED because: of course not. But this works well for me, helps me stay accountable to myself, and I've maintained a consistently healthy diet and exercise routine for over 100 days, thanks in part to My Fitness Pal.
I was not compensated for this review, just love the product. The app and online tools offered by My Fitness Pal are free.
More...
(Content Note: This post discusses disordered eating and dieting.) I've been warning people of my impending veganism for a few years. I'm not a person who makes life changes on a whim, and I make it a point to go into any and every situation with as much information as my brain can hold. I've been working up to it because it's not an easy thing to be vegan in this world, especially being a chronic migraineur and so incapacitated some days that I can't cook at all. I knew my best chance of success lie with educating myself, because if I allowed myself to become nutritionally deficient, I could get sicker. And I also worried about my mental health.
My history of disordered eating has made this change an interesting one for me. Because I have this history, dieting in any way is a minefield. I have to ride this fine line of paying close attention to what I eat, but not obsessing. Exercising frequently, but not too much. I have not been entirely successful in my past attempts to healthfully diet, mental slips have happened, bad habits have reignited, and I've slid down that slippery slope too many times to enter into any exercise or dietary changes without a certain amount of trepidation. I hesitated to embrace these changes I've been wanting to make for years because I wanted to do it right, and I wanted to make sure I stayed ok.
So, education: There are a myriad number of ways to learn about food and nutrition. Some of the sources I've delved into include: documentaries (Super Size Me; Food Inc; Forks Over Knives; Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead), tv series (Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution), books (The Food Revolution, The China Study), cookbooks (Veganomicon), and blogs (Happy Herbivore).
I also took nutrition and health courses at my local community college, which gave me a lot of information about biology and how our bodies use food. Learning the objective facts of nutrition has been excellent for beating back those always-wrong demons that continue to live in my head. They'll always be there, I think, but facts sure do keep them quieter.
I decided pretty early on that I would need some kind of monitoring system in place, and while hand-tallying my calories would surely have led to obsessive thoughts and behavior, I was excited to realize that using an app for the same purpose hasn't had (too) much of that effect at all. The first and only app I tried is My Fitness Pal for Android, and it has been really helpful for keeping me accountable.
Upon sign-up, I entered my weight, my activity level and my goals into the app, and it formulated a basic caloric-intake plan for me. Every day since, I've entered 99% of my food and exercise, the app tallies up all the micro and macro nutrients, adds and subtracts calories consumed and burned, tells me how I'm meeting my immediate needs, and, even better, allows me to see my patterns and progress over time. Check it out, you guys: CHARTS!!!!
Look at that progress! It's so much easier to keep going when I can see the evidence of all the hard work I've put in so far. (Also, this is my excuse for the sparse blogging happening around here. I've been busy hiking! SEE!)
This app is good for dieters because it's easy to see how each meal, each food, each ingredient can influence your overall nutritional intake, and it makes it easier to make good choices, when we can immediately experience our consequences. This app can also be a good tool for people with eating or exercise disorders, because it holds us accountable for eating enough calories, and gives a red-tinged alert if the daily tally isn't sustainable.
However, I haven't made it through this without a single unhealthy thought or behavior, just less of them than I've experienced in the past. I'm not recommending this app as any kind of a panacea for ED because: of course not. But this works well for me, helps me stay accountable to myself, and I've maintained a consistently healthy diet and exercise routine for over 100 days, thanks in part to My Fitness Pal.
I was not compensated for this review, just love the product. The app and online tools offered by My Fitness Pal are free.
More...
Friday, October 11, 2013
Another Food Post
Grocery shopping is the worst.
I've learned to adapt, for the most part. For the glaring overhead fluorescents, I wear a hat and have my sunglasses handy. For the obnoxious piped in music, shrieky fellow customers, and inter-store announcements, I bring earplugs. For the nausea triggered by the car ride to the store, and then the stench of the laundry/cleaning/air freshener/perfume sections and other patrons, I keep ginger or mints on me. For the overstimulation of all of the above, plus deciphering product labels, I medicate liberally beforehand. I always bring a sweater, in case the air conditioning is too cold.
Besides physical preparations, there's some mental prep involved in even simple trips. I have to stay focused, go straight to what I need most because there's no telling how long I'll last. I have to stay as calm as possible, so I can't let the guy who was weirdly aggressive about getting around me to the soup bother me. Once I've finished getting what I need to get, I skedaddle the heck outta there and wait in the car for my man to check out. Thank you, Man, without you, I would surely end every shopping trip by crying or threatening to barf on someone.
Our local CSAs don't come to your door, but they sometimes have a "local" drop-off point, which I may or may not be able to make it to every week, as migraines and gas money would dictate. If I missed it, I'd lose my food, having already paid for it. There's a chance that they'd accommodate me, make an exception and deliver to my door, or allow me to pick it up on off days, but I haven't yet explored those options, because there is one more hurdle to the CSAs that I have to overcome and that is money. I just don't have enough.
In a perfect world, food stamps would be redeemable for all the fresh, local, organic produce a person could eat. (When the government isn't shut down and people are actually receiving them, that is.)
But in the real world, we make do. Which, in our case, means making the most of our local (within 10 miles), but rather pricey grocery stores, the slightly cheaper chain, Safeway, that is more than half an hour from home on winding roads of barf, and costco -- which is the furthest distance, at about 45 minutes from home, but it's the best option when we can make the trip.
And, we are so incredibly, astoundingly lucky that we have the option to visit a free farmer's market three times a month, and we usually make it to at least one. It's hosted by Mountain Community Resources, an amazing organization that helps people with all sorts of services, but these farmer's markets are the best thing I've ever seen a charity do.
We've visited food pantries before, and while we'd usually come away with enough food to live on for at least a week, this wasn't food that keeps people healthy. It was all cans and cereals and processed meals and more than one time there wasn't a thing in the bag that didn't have hfcs or some kind of preservative in it. That food was depressing and unhealthy. I would almost have been better off not eating at all. Almost.
Of course, I needed to eat. So, I did. And I felt terrible all the time. I clearly remember the despair I used to feel on nights when the fridge was lean and I struggled to make a dinner that would actually nourish us.
I never, ever forget how lucky I am now to be able to take advantage of all this donated fresh food. Sometimes the produce is less than stellar; one time half the strawberries were moldy, and another the tomatoes were about to burst, they were so ripe, but on the whole, they offer quality produce, and you can't beat the price. Last week, they had massive, perfect portabello mushrooms, and brightly colored, delightfully misshapen bell peppers of all colors, and it was better than christmas. That haul inspired me to make some phenomenal vegan enchiladas.
Oh yeah, I've cut out even more of the animal products, and I'm happier about it than I thought I would be. No cheese at all anymore, very few eggs, and little dairy otherwise, I feel better without it, and don't miss it at all, surprisingly.
I've been thinking in a more conscious way about the products I buy and where they come from, and what effects those products have on me, the economy, the environment, and what impact I'm personally having on this planet. I'm a little obsessed with personal responsibility right now. I want my impact on this world to be beneficial, not harmful, I want to leave a positive mark, if any. So, first I stopped buying the regular eggs (because I'm against chicken torture), then I stopped eating cheese (made with rennet, which is baby cow stomach enzymes! WHY!) and my gut started working much more smoothly, and my skin got this unreal glow to it that I haven't seen since I was a teenager, without the zits (well, still a few, but that's ok) and then I dropped a pant-size or two within two weeks and my energy BOOMED.
I'm hiking our hill most days now, and every now and again I'll go up more than once. Pushups, situps and yoga are happening more and more frequently as well, and even on bad days, I'm trying to do low-key stuff, just to keep my body limber. I even ran in place for like, ten minutes the other day! Unbelievable!
Baked goods are still my dairy-downfall, because I'm not eating them often enough to warrant searching out and testing vegan recipes. I've been indulging in the standard fare, whatever my boyfriend brings home, save for the ice cream. But let me tell you, vegans aren't missing a thing when it comes to ice cream. We have this stuff in our local grocery:
It's called Luna & Larry's Organic Coconut Bliss and every flavor I've tried of their delightful coconut ice cream has been an impossible pleasure. The chocolate doesn't taste like coconut at all to me, but the less powerful flavors will definitely have at least an undertaste (if that's a thing? I think it's a thing) of fresh coconut, not that I ever complained. It's pricey, so it's not a frequent treat, but oh is it worth every penny. It's better than dairy ice cream and everyone should eat this. Unless you have a coconut allergy, like my poor boyfriend does. Doomed to a life of dairy ice cream, that one. More for me.
More...
I've learned to adapt, for the most part. For the glaring overhead fluorescents, I wear a hat and have my sunglasses handy. For the obnoxious piped in music, shrieky fellow customers, and inter-store announcements, I bring earplugs. For the nausea triggered by the car ride to the store, and then the stench of the laundry/cleaning/air freshener/perfume sections and other patrons, I keep ginger or mints on me. For the overstimulation of all of the above, plus deciphering product labels, I medicate liberally beforehand. I always bring a sweater, in case the air conditioning is too cold.
Besides physical preparations, there's some mental prep involved in even simple trips. I have to stay focused, go straight to what I need most because there's no telling how long I'll last. I have to stay as calm as possible, so I can't let the guy who was weirdly aggressive about getting around me to the soup bother me. Once I've finished getting what I need to get, I skedaddle the heck outta there and wait in the car for my man to check out. Thank you, Man, without you, I would surely end every shopping trip by crying or threatening to barf on someone.
Our local CSAs don't come to your door, but they sometimes have a "local" drop-off point, which I may or may not be able to make it to every week, as migraines and gas money would dictate. If I missed it, I'd lose my food, having already paid for it. There's a chance that they'd accommodate me, make an exception and deliver to my door, or allow me to pick it up on off days, but I haven't yet explored those options, because there is one more hurdle to the CSAs that I have to overcome and that is money. I just don't have enough.
In a perfect world, food stamps would be redeemable for all the fresh, local, organic produce a person could eat. (When the government isn't shut down and people are actually receiving them, that is.)
But in the real world, we make do. Which, in our case, means making the most of our local (within 10 miles), but rather pricey grocery stores, the slightly cheaper chain, Safeway, that is more than half an hour from home on winding roads of barf, and costco -- which is the furthest distance, at about 45 minutes from home, but it's the best option when we can make the trip.
And, we are so incredibly, astoundingly lucky that we have the option to visit a free farmer's market three times a month, and we usually make it to at least one. It's hosted by Mountain Community Resources, an amazing organization that helps people with all sorts of services, but these farmer's markets are the best thing I've ever seen a charity do.
We've visited food pantries before, and while we'd usually come away with enough food to live on for at least a week, this wasn't food that keeps people healthy. It was all cans and cereals and processed meals and more than one time there wasn't a thing in the bag that didn't have hfcs or some kind of preservative in it. That food was depressing and unhealthy. I would almost have been better off not eating at all. Almost.
Of course, I needed to eat. So, I did. And I felt terrible all the time. I clearly remember the despair I used to feel on nights when the fridge was lean and I struggled to make a dinner that would actually nourish us.
I never, ever forget how lucky I am now to be able to take advantage of all this donated fresh food. Sometimes the produce is less than stellar; one time half the strawberries were moldy, and another the tomatoes were about to burst, they were so ripe, but on the whole, they offer quality produce, and you can't beat the price. Last week, they had massive, perfect portabello mushrooms, and brightly colored, delightfully misshapen bell peppers of all colors, and it was better than christmas. That haul inspired me to make some phenomenal vegan enchiladas.
Oh yeah, I've cut out even more of the animal products, and I'm happier about it than I thought I would be. No cheese at all anymore, very few eggs, and little dairy otherwise, I feel better without it, and don't miss it at all, surprisingly.
I've been thinking in a more conscious way about the products I buy and where they come from, and what effects those products have on me, the economy, the environment, and what impact I'm personally having on this planet. I'm a little obsessed with personal responsibility right now. I want my impact on this world to be beneficial, not harmful, I want to leave a positive mark, if any. So, first I stopped buying the regular eggs (because I'm against chicken torture), then I stopped eating cheese (made with rennet, which is baby cow stomach enzymes! WHY!) and my gut started working much more smoothly, and my skin got this unreal glow to it that I haven't seen since I was a teenager, without the zits (well, still a few, but that's ok) and then I dropped a pant-size or two within two weeks and my energy BOOMED.
I'm hiking our hill most days now, and every now and again I'll go up more than once. Pushups, situps and yoga are happening more and more frequently as well, and even on bad days, I'm trying to do low-key stuff, just to keep my body limber. I even ran in place for like, ten minutes the other day! Unbelievable!
Baked goods are still my dairy-downfall, because I'm not eating them often enough to warrant searching out and testing vegan recipes. I've been indulging in the standard fare, whatever my boyfriend brings home, save for the ice cream. But let me tell you, vegans aren't missing a thing when it comes to ice cream. We have this stuff in our local grocery:
It's called Luna & Larry's Organic Coconut Bliss and every flavor I've tried of their delightful coconut ice cream has been an impossible pleasure. The chocolate doesn't taste like coconut at all to me, but the less powerful flavors will definitely have at least an undertaste (if that's a thing? I think it's a thing) of fresh coconut, not that I ever complained. It's pricey, so it's not a frequent treat, but oh is it worth every penny. It's better than dairy ice cream and everyone should eat this. Unless you have a coconut allergy, like my poor boyfriend does. Doomed to a life of dairy ice cream, that one. More for me.
More...
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Back to School
I actually didn't expect to get a summer vacation, since I opted to take a class over the quarter. I'd misread the calendar, or a class description somewhere along the line, and I thought I'd only get a week break between quarters. So, imagine my delight when the fairly stressful summer quarter ended and I found myself with over a month to squander!
I slept in, I binged out on Star Trek and word games and the sookie stackhouse books (which I really enjoyed and highly recommend, I warn potential readers that there are some heavy moments involving sexual assault, torture, and other themes of sex and violence, so the series may not be for the squeamish or trigger-sensitive, but the fun shines through the dark spots and the series made for a fantastic summer indulgence). I took the dogs for long, aimless walks on our mountain, I did a little sewing, a lot of cleaning and organizing, and loads of guilt-free lounging. Okay, not totally guilt-free, hence the cleaning and organizing, but mostly I made myself enjoy the down-time, I so rarely take the time to relax when my head doesn't force me to, it was really decadent to enjoy my favorite idle hobbies without a haze of pain constantly surrounding the experience.
Anyway, it was great, but I'm glad to be back at school because as of getting an A in this class, which I fully intend on doing, I'll have raised my gpa above a 2.5, which is the lowest threshold to start qualifying for more scholarships. A qualifying gpa is no guarantee, but my it'll give me more options and I'm so excited to finally hit this milestone, I keep calling it my christmas present to myself.
As soon as my school posted the available classes for fall, I'd researched what I could and should take, then fired off emails to the teacher of the class I chose (poli sci) and my counselor, advising them both of my plans and my need for captioned video and audio content. I am very happy to report that I received an excellent, professional response from each, and my first few assignments have all been adequately captioned, with no further interference from me. It's wonderful not to have to worry about accessibility, and I'm more hopeful than I've ever been about my future education experience.
The class itself: meh. It's political science, and I thought it was going to less american government and more social progress in terms of politics, but apparently I was mistaken. I'll survive. This is my first totally uninteresting, dry, academic class (sorry american government fans, it just doesn't do it for me), and I'm just glad I researched the teachers ahead of time because if I can't take a fun class, at least I can have an effective teacher.
I've encountered a few issues with getting settled into the new quarter, but nothing too serious. We tried to take care of my text needs early, before the rush of the first week of classes, but the disabilities office was inexplicably closed, and since they are the source of my book scholarship paperwork, I couldn't do anything until they reopened. So, we finagled the gas money to make it to town again, during the first week of classes, but discovered that the school's bookstore ran out of one of the assigned texts. While it's available elsewhere, I'm reliant on that school-sponsored book scholarship to be able to afford my textbooks every quarter, I can't go anywhere else. So, now I'm approaching week two, sans book. Thankfully, my teacher is agreeable and the text isn't necessary for survival the first week. Now we just need to have the gas money to go to the school AGAIN. UGH ANNOYING.
We've done all the requisite complaining that a person does when faced with a situation like this. Why must I pick up my approved voucher in a place that is not the bookstore, why can't they have it stashed somewhere? Or, why can't i receive it digitally? Why would the disabilities office be closed right before fall quarter starts? Why can't I order my books online (like students with a credit card can), or have them mailed to me? Why can't I have access to the bookstore before it becomes a madhouse of teenagers? These are questions that do not have answers, but hopefully by asking them something will change, eventually.
Things are getting better, but there continues to be plenty of room for improvement.
More...
I slept in, I binged out on Star Trek and word games and the sookie stackhouse books (which I really enjoyed and highly recommend, I warn potential readers that there are some heavy moments involving sexual assault, torture, and other themes of sex and violence, so the series may not be for the squeamish or trigger-sensitive, but the fun shines through the dark spots and the series made for a fantastic summer indulgence). I took the dogs for long, aimless walks on our mountain, I did a little sewing, a lot of cleaning and organizing, and loads of guilt-free lounging. Okay, not totally guilt-free, hence the cleaning and organizing, but mostly I made myself enjoy the down-time, I so rarely take the time to relax when my head doesn't force me to, it was really decadent to enjoy my favorite idle hobbies without a haze of pain constantly surrounding the experience.
Anyway, it was great, but I'm glad to be back at school because as of getting an A in this class, which I fully intend on doing, I'll have raised my gpa above a 2.5, which is the lowest threshold to start qualifying for more scholarships. A qualifying gpa is no guarantee, but my it'll give me more options and I'm so excited to finally hit this milestone, I keep calling it my christmas present to myself.
As soon as my school posted the available classes for fall, I'd researched what I could and should take, then fired off emails to the teacher of the class I chose (poli sci) and my counselor, advising them both of my plans and my need for captioned video and audio content. I am very happy to report that I received an excellent, professional response from each, and my first few assignments have all been adequately captioned, with no further interference from me. It's wonderful not to have to worry about accessibility, and I'm more hopeful than I've ever been about my future education experience.
The class itself: meh. It's political science, and I thought it was going to less american government and more social progress in terms of politics, but apparently I was mistaken. I'll survive. This is my first totally uninteresting, dry, academic class (sorry american government fans, it just doesn't do it for me), and I'm just glad I researched the teachers ahead of time because if I can't take a fun class, at least I can have an effective teacher.
I've encountered a few issues with getting settled into the new quarter, but nothing too serious. We tried to take care of my text needs early, before the rush of the first week of classes, but the disabilities office was inexplicably closed, and since they are the source of my book scholarship paperwork, I couldn't do anything until they reopened. So, we finagled the gas money to make it to town again, during the first week of classes, but discovered that the school's bookstore ran out of one of the assigned texts. While it's available elsewhere, I'm reliant on that school-sponsored book scholarship to be able to afford my textbooks every quarter, I can't go anywhere else. So, now I'm approaching week two, sans book. Thankfully, my teacher is agreeable and the text isn't necessary for survival the first week. Now we just need to have the gas money to go to the school AGAIN. UGH ANNOYING.
We've done all the requisite complaining that a person does when faced with a situation like this. Why must I pick up my approved voucher in a place that is not the bookstore, why can't they have it stashed somewhere? Or, why can't i receive it digitally? Why would the disabilities office be closed right before fall quarter starts? Why can't I order my books online (like students with a credit card can), or have them mailed to me? Why can't I have access to the bookstore before it becomes a madhouse of teenagers? These are questions that do not have answers, but hopefully by asking them something will change, eventually.
Things are getting better, but there continues to be plenty of room for improvement.
More...
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Music and Noise
Music is usually painful, since migraines. But, I've discovered that when my head is just right, and there are no competing noises to worry about, I can enjoy it almost as much as I did back when.
My sound sensitivity started decreasing as soon as we moved away from the constant influx of the city. It's often completely silent in my neck of the woods, save for the birds, cicadas, and the cracks and creaks of normal woodland movement. We can hear the neighbors, but only distantly. I wear earplugs a few times a month, if that; when we have tree work done, or my boyfriend is snoring like an aspirating wildebeest, for example. And I feel like my noise tolerance is much better for traffic, and other conflicting sound situations, but once I hit my tolerance, however improved it may be, it's the same old story, so I still have to be very careful.
Music's been out of the question for a long time, and that means no radio in the car, no ambient, background tunes while we socialize, and no live shows or festivals featuring live music. The clash of instruments, certain pitches of horns or vibrations of bass can make my nausea, dizziness and head pain immediately disabling, so after a few punishing attempts early on in my migraine career, I resigned myself to a life without music.
It was devastating, and only one of many horrible realizations I made about my migraines and my future at about the same time. I loved to sing (terribly), I loved to dance, I loved to blare my favorite song over and over, so loud that I couldn't hear myself think anymore, and all I could feel was the rhythm, in my bones and in my blood.
I didn't try to listen to music again for a long time; after I'd grieved its loss, I tried not to think about it so hard, and I nearly missed it when it came back to me. One day, a few months into my newly quiet life, I started noticing that I could listen to the tv at an audible level, still quieter than most people, but captions weren't absolutely required to be able to catch all the dialogue. (My sound sensitivity may have improved, but my aural comprehension is still in the tubes, hence the need for captions at school. I felt the need to clarify.)
I caught a few music videos one morning, I remember Rihanna's We Found Love in a Hopeless Place and Adele's Rolling in the Deep both made me stop and stare at the tv. Later, hope fluttering my heart, I opened myself up a free Pandora account and made an Adele channel. Earning my love forever, the first song it played for me was Rolling in the Deep and I am not ashamed to admit that I cried like a baby while dancing and singing to it. It wasn't as loud as I used to play it, and I couldn't quite holler-sing like I used to, but it was the happiest moment I'd had in a long time.
Twirling, dancing, singing as loud as my head would allow me, the dog staring and wagging her tail uncertainly, and my whole body, my whole being felt so good, so in tune with life around me, so vibrant with passion and joy. The freedom of it was decadent. It still is.
I've taken to putting on music when I clean, and it makes the chores go by so much faster. I'm still pretty limited, and I have all sorts of rules for keeping music within my tolerable ranges. Like immediately skipping songs if they are even slightly annoying to my ear, because certain pitches and vibrations just do not work with this head of mine, and there is no talking while the music is on, because competing noises are truly my kryptonite; but I will absolutely take what I can get.
My current musical obsessions are the song, Royals by Lorde, the Rolling Stones, and old R&B. Pandora is great for the ability to skip songs and make my own stations based on my likes and dislikes, but their player is difficult to use on my PC with my color settings, and their commercials tend to be excessively loud, but not too frequent, even with a free account.
I'm so fortunate to have been able to reclaim music; it's an easy source of endorphins, a great stress reliever, and helps me feel a little more connected to the world.
More...
My sound sensitivity started decreasing as soon as we moved away from the constant influx of the city. It's often completely silent in my neck of the woods, save for the birds, cicadas, and the cracks and creaks of normal woodland movement. We can hear the neighbors, but only distantly. I wear earplugs a few times a month, if that; when we have tree work done, or my boyfriend is snoring like an aspirating wildebeest, for example. And I feel like my noise tolerance is much better for traffic, and other conflicting sound situations, but once I hit my tolerance, however improved it may be, it's the same old story, so I still have to be very careful.
Music's been out of the question for a long time, and that means no radio in the car, no ambient, background tunes while we socialize, and no live shows or festivals featuring live music. The clash of instruments, certain pitches of horns or vibrations of bass can make my nausea, dizziness and head pain immediately disabling, so after a few punishing attempts early on in my migraine career, I resigned myself to a life without music.
It was devastating, and only one of many horrible realizations I made about my migraines and my future at about the same time. I loved to sing (terribly), I loved to dance, I loved to blare my favorite song over and over, so loud that I couldn't hear myself think anymore, and all I could feel was the rhythm, in my bones and in my blood.
I didn't try to listen to music again for a long time; after I'd grieved its loss, I tried not to think about it so hard, and I nearly missed it when it came back to me. One day, a few months into my newly quiet life, I started noticing that I could listen to the tv at an audible level, still quieter than most people, but captions weren't absolutely required to be able to catch all the dialogue. (My sound sensitivity may have improved, but my aural comprehension is still in the tubes, hence the need for captions at school. I felt the need to clarify.)
I caught a few music videos one morning, I remember Rihanna's We Found Love in a Hopeless Place and Adele's Rolling in the Deep both made me stop and stare at the tv. Later, hope fluttering my heart, I opened myself up a free Pandora account and made an Adele channel. Earning my love forever, the first song it played for me was Rolling in the Deep and I am not ashamed to admit that I cried like a baby while dancing and singing to it. It wasn't as loud as I used to play it, and I couldn't quite holler-sing like I used to, but it was the happiest moment I'd had in a long time.
Twirling, dancing, singing as loud as my head would allow me, the dog staring and wagging her tail uncertainly, and my whole body, my whole being felt so good, so in tune with life around me, so vibrant with passion and joy. The freedom of it was decadent. It still is.
I've taken to putting on music when I clean, and it makes the chores go by so much faster. I'm still pretty limited, and I have all sorts of rules for keeping music within my tolerable ranges. Like immediately skipping songs if they are even slightly annoying to my ear, because certain pitches and vibrations just do not work with this head of mine, and there is no talking while the music is on, because competing noises are truly my kryptonite; but I will absolutely take what I can get.
My current musical obsessions are the song, Royals by Lorde, the Rolling Stones, and old R&B. Pandora is great for the ability to skip songs and make my own stations based on my likes and dislikes, but their player is difficult to use on my PC with my color settings, and their commercials tend to be excessively loud, but not too frequent, even with a free account.
I'm so fortunate to have been able to reclaim music; it's an easy source of endorphins, a great stress reliever, and helps me feel a little more connected to the world.
More...
Friday, August 23, 2013
Medical Edibles
Marijuana-infused edibles have become an invaluable part of my self-care routine.
I'm no stranger to the common brownies and cookies that are sold at every dispensary, but nausea comes along to my migraine parties and sometimes those rich foods are impossible to gag down. At home, my boyfriend makes me ginger cookies, which are a near-perfect delivery system, but if we're out and have the cash, we'll sometimes check around and see what the local guys have for sale.
And I'm rarely impressed. Massive cookies, or syrupy hard candies, or the uber-chocolate-explosion-cocoa-mouthbomb-death-fudge-brownies are not at all what I'm looking for when my head hurts and I feel like barfing on everyone around me.
Sorry for talking about barf during an edibles review. But, it's pertinent, because I finally, finally, FINALLY found something in a store that doesn't exacerbate my barfiness. While visiting our favorite local dispensary, my boyfriend was gifted a sample of these delightful "ginger bites" by lifted elevated edibles. The packaging states that "all ingredients used are vegan, gluten-free and organic", which I appreciate, as a vegetarian trying to cut down on her GMOs. The texture is a soft, dense cookie, with bright flavors of cranberry, lemon and ginger that really pop, in a small size that makes ingestion quick and easy, with not a trace of cannabis flavor to be found. It's a two to four dose, which is a pretty subjective measurement in the medical cannabis world, but I started with half on a moderate-bad day, then ate the rest an hour later when my head was unfazed. A half hour after that, I was feeling pretty fantastic, so I cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and wrote this review with no additional medication for the rest of the evening. On a moderately bad day, these things individually are very difficult, so to be able to accomplish all three, then sleep awesomely and wake up smiling, it feels like a dream I don't ever want to wake up from. I don't review most of the edibles I try anymore, because our homemade version has outshone everything by miles and every review would be the same, "Too big, too barfy." Until now. I love these ginger bites and would use them all the time, if I could.
When the edibles hit me right, I feel practically normal. My head still hurts, but often only if I look for it, or really push it, and I'm still nauseated, but to a lesser degree. My body weariness largely fades away, my mood brightens, and my stamina blows me away. If it's been a while since we could afford for me to medicate this way, I can actually get weepy from the relief edibles offer. To suddenly have the freedom to do a thousand things I'd been unable to, marijuana is truly a miracle drug for me and I need to throw a quick shame-on-you to the FDA or DEA or whoever it was that decided marijuana was bad and restricted it so heavily for so long. JERKS.
But, there are two factors that keep me from medicating consistently with edibles: The first is tolerance. An effective starting dose of edible cannabis is a high one -- much higher than a person could smoke comfortably in a sitting -- and after only a few regular doses a person will start to notice that they need more to get the same effects. And if a person suddenly stops taking regular doses, especially higher doses (which are inevitable if a person medicates regularly in this fashion), withdrawal effects can be uncomfortable for up to a week. (Of course, note that I describe the withdrawal experience as uncomfortable, not painful, not unendurable, never permanently damaging, and certainly much less dramatic than getting off the average anti-seizure, anti-psychotic, anti-depressant, or narcotic. The only withdrawal effects I've ever experienced are irritability and a decrease in pain tolerance, which were only bothersome for a few days, if that.)
The other barrier to regular medicating via cannabis is the cost. Store-bought edibles can run from 5 to 20 bucks a dose, which isn't something I can pay easily. Honestly, the only reason I can afford to medicate the way I do (instead of taking whatever Medicare will give me, which is nothing much useful anymore) is because we live in a sort of "green belt" in which every other person we know here grows and sells their own medical marijuana and half of them are super into bartering with my man for things like car repair, which is pretty amazing. It's all above-board with licenses and verifications, but it's much, much cheaper than the dispensaries, for often the same quality.
I'm very lucky to have the access I do. The difference in my quality of life can not be undersold: before marijuana, I was merely surviving, now I can actually live.
More...
I'm no stranger to the common brownies and cookies that are sold at every dispensary, but nausea comes along to my migraine parties and sometimes those rich foods are impossible to gag down. At home, my boyfriend makes me ginger cookies, which are a near-perfect delivery system, but if we're out and have the cash, we'll sometimes check around and see what the local guys have for sale.
And I'm rarely impressed. Massive cookies, or syrupy hard candies, or the uber-chocolate-explosion-cocoa-mouthbomb-death-fudge-brownies are not at all what I'm looking for when my head hurts and I feel like barfing on everyone around me.
Sorry for talking about barf during an edibles review. But, it's pertinent, because I finally, finally, FINALLY found something in a store that doesn't exacerbate my barfiness. While visiting our favorite local dispensary, my boyfriend was gifted a sample of these delightful "ginger bites" by lifted elevated edibles. The packaging states that "all ingredients used are vegan, gluten-free and organic", which I appreciate, as a vegetarian trying to cut down on her GMOs. The texture is a soft, dense cookie, with bright flavors of cranberry, lemon and ginger that really pop, in a small size that makes ingestion quick and easy, with not a trace of cannabis flavor to be found. It's a two to four dose, which is a pretty subjective measurement in the medical cannabis world, but I started with half on a moderate-bad day, then ate the rest an hour later when my head was unfazed. A half hour after that, I was feeling pretty fantastic, so I cooked dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and wrote this review with no additional medication for the rest of the evening. On a moderately bad day, these things individually are very difficult, so to be able to accomplish all three, then sleep awesomely and wake up smiling, it feels like a dream I don't ever want to wake up from. I don't review most of the edibles I try anymore, because our homemade version has outshone everything by miles and every review would be the same, "Too big, too barfy." Until now. I love these ginger bites and would use them all the time, if I could.
When the edibles hit me right, I feel practically normal. My head still hurts, but often only if I look for it, or really push it, and I'm still nauseated, but to a lesser degree. My body weariness largely fades away, my mood brightens, and my stamina blows me away. If it's been a while since we could afford for me to medicate this way, I can actually get weepy from the relief edibles offer. To suddenly have the freedom to do a thousand things I'd been unable to, marijuana is truly a miracle drug for me and I need to throw a quick shame-on-you to the FDA or DEA or whoever it was that decided marijuana was bad and restricted it so heavily for so long. JERKS.
But, there are two factors that keep me from medicating consistently with edibles: The first is tolerance. An effective starting dose of edible cannabis is a high one -- much higher than a person could smoke comfortably in a sitting -- and after only a few regular doses a person will start to notice that they need more to get the same effects. And if a person suddenly stops taking regular doses, especially higher doses (which are inevitable if a person medicates regularly in this fashion), withdrawal effects can be uncomfortable for up to a week. (Of course, note that I describe the withdrawal experience as uncomfortable, not painful, not unendurable, never permanently damaging, and certainly much less dramatic than getting off the average anti-seizure, anti-psychotic, anti-depressant, or narcotic. The only withdrawal effects I've ever experienced are irritability and a decrease in pain tolerance, which were only bothersome for a few days, if that.)
The other barrier to regular medicating via cannabis is the cost. Store-bought edibles can run from 5 to 20 bucks a dose, which isn't something I can pay easily. Honestly, the only reason I can afford to medicate the way I do (instead of taking whatever Medicare will give me, which is nothing much useful anymore) is because we live in a sort of "green belt" in which every other person we know here grows and sells their own medical marijuana and half of them are super into bartering with my man for things like car repair, which is pretty amazing. It's all above-board with licenses and verifications, but it's much, much cheaper than the dispensaries, for often the same quality.
I'm very lucky to have the access I do. The difference in my quality of life can not be undersold: before marijuana, I was merely surviving, now I can actually live.
More...
Monday, July 8, 2013
Book Reviews & Rants
I read paper books. Does that make me old-timey?
The Migraine Brain by Carolyn Bernstein, MD is an excellent resource. I binge-read it in one day and kept catching myself nodding in agreement with the life changes this book suggests. It's also obvious that this book is written by someone with first-hand experience with migraines, preventing and dealing with them, not just someone who treats them. Read it.
It's All in my Head by Paula Kamen is another good read about a woman with chronic headaches and her journey for treatment and enlightenment. I found it a good mix of sad and funny and hopeful and cynical. Read it.
The Food Revolution: How Your Diet Can Help Save Your Life and Our World by John Robbins is one of a long list of books of this type I've consumed. This one is a bit sensationalist at times, the juxtapositions of quotes from the meat and dairy industries alongside starkly contradicting quotes from government agencies and scientists are entertaining and sometimes difficult to stomach, but this book lays out the facts pretty well. We are what we eat, and if we aren't making our food responsibly, and consuming it responsibly, we'll suffer the consequences. READ IT.
Migraine by Oliver Sacks had a lot of good information, and I thought it was insightful, particularly in regards to more uncommon symptoms, until I got to the sections dedicated to chronic migraine sufferers. Let me save you the trouble. The gist was that many chronic migraineurs are emotionally unstable or in bad home environments and once they escape those situations -- TA DAH! -- they feel so much better. I've heard theories like this over and over, from doctors and civilians alike, and it never fails to get my hackles up. Check out this excerpt:
"[O]f which they may or may not be aware". This is patronizing, and I'm so tired of being treated like I just need to have a long talk with a shrink, but it's good to know where the idea came from. I don't think Mr. Sacks invented the "migraineurs as repressed neurotics" trope, but I sure wish he didn't reinforce it. This is the book the doctors have all read! And while he has a lengthy bibliography, I'm not going to go hunting for the source of the above clinical observations, and instead I'll issue a challenge: citation needed. I need to know about these studies done on chronic migraineurs and their unresolved emotional problems of which they aren't even aware.
People in chronic pain may have less emotional control than those who are not, true. People who live in unhealthy home environments may have trouble getting proper medical care, also true. But correlation is not causation, and the inverse of what the author suggests is more probable: that many people, from all walks of life, experience emotional instability, or a difficult home life, but chronic migraineurs, like any person with a significant disability, can have an infinitely more difficult time extricating themselves from those situations. I'd bet that in these situations that the author describes, the migraines have more often led to, or at least contributed to, the life misery, not the other way around.
If I could omit these sections from the book, I might recommend it to a new migraineur as well as I would most of the other migraine tomes I've read. But, the ableism and privilege of the hysterical migraine theory made me want to throw it in the fire, so at the very least, skip those parts.
More...
The Migraine Brain by Carolyn Bernstein, MD is an excellent resource. I binge-read it in one day and kept catching myself nodding in agreement with the life changes this book suggests. It's also obvious that this book is written by someone with first-hand experience with migraines, preventing and dealing with them, not just someone who treats them. Read it.
It's All in my Head by Paula Kamen is another good read about a woman with chronic headaches and her journey for treatment and enlightenment. I found it a good mix of sad and funny and hopeful and cynical. Read it.
The Food Revolution: How Your Diet Can Help Save Your Life and Our World by John Robbins is one of a long list of books of this type I've consumed. This one is a bit sensationalist at times, the juxtapositions of quotes from the meat and dairy industries alongside starkly contradicting quotes from government agencies and scientists are entertaining and sometimes difficult to stomach, but this book lays out the facts pretty well. We are what we eat, and if we aren't making our food responsibly, and consuming it responsibly, we'll suffer the consequences. READ IT.
Migraine by Oliver Sacks had a lot of good information, and I thought it was insightful, particularly in regards to more uncommon symptoms, until I got to the sections dedicated to chronic migraine sufferers. Let me save you the trouble. The gist was that many chronic migraineurs are emotionally unstable or in bad home environments and once they escape those situations -- TA DAH! -- they feel so much better. I've heard theories like this over and over, from doctors and civilians alike, and it never fails to get my hackles up. Check out this excerpt:
Clinical observation of migraine patterns indicates that a majority of patients with extremely frequent, severe, intractable migraines are caught in a situation of severe emotional stress or conflict (of which they may or may not be aware) and that this drives the migraine as a psychosomatic expression of their underlying emotional problems. (249)
"[O]f which they may or may not be aware". This is patronizing, and I'm so tired of being treated like I just need to have a long talk with a shrink, but it's good to know where the idea came from. I don't think Mr. Sacks invented the "migraineurs as repressed neurotics" trope, but I sure wish he didn't reinforce it. This is the book the doctors have all read! And while he has a lengthy bibliography, I'm not going to go hunting for the source of the above clinical observations, and instead I'll issue a challenge: citation needed. I need to know about these studies done on chronic migraineurs and their unresolved emotional problems of which they aren't even aware.
People in chronic pain may have less emotional control than those who are not, true. People who live in unhealthy home environments may have trouble getting proper medical care, also true. But correlation is not causation, and the inverse of what the author suggests is more probable: that many people, from all walks of life, experience emotional instability, or a difficult home life, but chronic migraineurs, like any person with a significant disability, can have an infinitely more difficult time extricating themselves from those situations. I'd bet that in these situations that the author describes, the migraines have more often led to, or at least contributed to, the life misery, not the other way around.
If I could omit these sections from the book, I might recommend it to a new migraineur as well as I would most of the other migraine tomes I've read. But, the ableism and privilege of the hysterical migraine theory made me want to throw it in the fire, so at the very least, skip those parts.
More...
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Skipping Hempcon
So, there's this big medical cannabis convention that comes to town every few months to a year, and I went once before but it was pretty uncomfortable for me, as far as noise and seating and lights and overall sensory overload. The samples were awesome, the networking was cool, the different booths were interesting, and I sure did love the chance to try out a huge variety of products, but since my first visit, it seems things have changed.
Suddenly, this medical marijuana expo has become more than a little about exploiting women. Joining the ranks of car shows and comic-con, individual booths hire women to be friendly and wear scanty clothing, and the event itself hosts contests for women that are little more than wet t-shirt contests.
The sexual exploitation of women has nothing to do with marijuana, medical or otherwise, but that it's featured so heavily at an industry event that features professional speakers and the opportunity for patients to connect with caregivers, is really disappointing.
I wrote an email to the generic info address listed on their website. It was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, I honestly didn't expect to make a difference, but I thought I should say what is true and what is true is that the easy sexualization of women makes a lot of people uncomfortable, and it's particularly inappropriate in a setting that is supposed to be for the MEDICAL cannabis industry. Do we have women in bikinis at diabetes conferences? I'm pretty sure not. Anyway, here's how the emailing went down, verbatim, and it gets all kinds of [sic] down there, be warned.
steph: Hi there, I'm looking at your website and noted a few pictures of scantily clad women in provocative poses. Will there also be scantily clad men at the San Jose Hempcon on 4/20? If so, you should feature photos of them in your advertising, it would be a huge draw to at least half of the population. If there will not be scantily clad men, I would like to request them. Besides, you guys wouldn't want to be perpetuating sexism, would you? Thanks!
Hempcon: Oh please.
steph: oh please.. accept progressive ideas and have a sense of humor about your own failings?
Hempcon: Failings ? A multi-A market Business to consumers MM Convention.
And what have you contributed ?
steph:Wow. I'm really disappointed in your hostile response, here. I'm giving you and your event constructive criticism. I'm not being nasty or rude. I even tried to be a little funny, to take the edge off. Admitting your event has an element to it that is sexist and likely makes at least a portion of your patrons uncomfortable would be a good thing. I don't expect it to change, but I do expect it to be at least respectfully acknowledged.
Hempcon: So sensitive Ms. [steph]? Use your Willed Effort some Where else.
We have In "Compassionate Intent - contributed ",..more to the medical marijuana cannabis Industry In California and Abroad than you can ever imagine.
The Hempcon convention Allows the MM Cannabis Industry to come together for 3 days to advertise,brand,market,network,promote And sell their products & services to thousands of pro-positive 420 compassionate consumers In a well organized,sare & comfortable environment. And If We Have T&A on The Website -so Be It.
Unless You are in The Business To Finance Research,Develop,Launch ,Produce and promote A multi-Market Million Dollar Trade Show, Keep The Line Clear.
Emerson D. Waters
Hempcon Senior Business Relations
steph: Should I attribute quotes to Emerson D. Waters?
Hempcon: ...
I stopped at this point, he never replied to my last email and obviously wasn't interested in opening a dialogue about how to make his event more welcoming to paying customers, and that's sad for him, the event, and the industry. Perhaps I shouldn't have started out with the humorous tone, maybe my super-professional voice would have gotten better results, but I doubt that. People who make money off the exploitation of others are rarely looking to change. But I stood up and said what was true, and now I'm standing up again to say it louder:
This is not ok.
And I will not stop until the sexual objectification of my gender stops. I'll probably be at it until I die, and I'll meet a hundred more condescending, sexist guys like old Emerson up there, but they will not shut me up and they sure as hell won't keep us down. The oppressors of women and other minorities will eventually go out of fashion, be labeled for the bigoted, embarrassing dinosaurs they are, and when they all finally die off, society will be better for it, and we will rejoice.
More...
Suddenly, this medical marijuana expo has become more than a little about exploiting women. Joining the ranks of car shows and comic-con, individual booths hire women to be friendly and wear scanty clothing, and the event itself hosts contests for women that are little more than wet t-shirt contests.
The sexual exploitation of women has nothing to do with marijuana, medical or otherwise, but that it's featured so heavily at an industry event that features professional speakers and the opportunity for patients to connect with caregivers, is really disappointing.
I wrote an email to the generic info address listed on their website. It was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, I honestly didn't expect to make a difference, but I thought I should say what is true and what is true is that the easy sexualization of women makes a lot of people uncomfortable, and it's particularly inappropriate in a setting that is supposed to be for the MEDICAL cannabis industry. Do we have women in bikinis at diabetes conferences? I'm pretty sure not. Anyway, here's how the emailing went down, verbatim, and it gets all kinds of [sic] down there, be warned.
steph: Hi there, I'm looking at your website and noted a few pictures of scantily clad women in provocative poses. Will there also be scantily clad men at the San Jose Hempcon on 4/20? If so, you should feature photos of them in your advertising, it would be a huge draw to at least half of the population. If there will not be scantily clad men, I would like to request them. Besides, you guys wouldn't want to be perpetuating sexism, would you? Thanks!
Hempcon: Oh please.
steph: oh please.. accept progressive ideas and have a sense of humor about your own failings?
Hempcon: Failings ? A multi-A market Business to consumers MM Convention.
And what have you contributed ?
steph:Wow. I'm really disappointed in your hostile response, here. I'm giving you and your event constructive criticism. I'm not being nasty or rude. I even tried to be a little funny, to take the edge off. Admitting your event has an element to it that is sexist and likely makes at least a portion of your patrons uncomfortable would be a good thing. I don't expect it to change, but I do expect it to be at least respectfully acknowledged.
Hempcon: So sensitive Ms. [steph]? Use your Willed Effort some Where else.
We have In "Compassionate Intent - contributed ",..more to the medical marijuana cannabis Industry In California and Abroad than you can ever imagine.
The Hempcon convention Allows the MM Cannabis Industry to come together for 3 days to advertise,brand,market,network,promote And sell their products & services to thousands of pro-positive 420 compassionate consumers In a well organized,sare & comfortable environment. And If We Have T&A on The Website -so Be It.
Unless You are in The Business To Finance Research,Develop,Launch ,Produce and promote A multi-Market Million Dollar Trade Show, Keep The Line Clear.
Emerson D. Waters
Hempcon Senior Business Relations
steph: Should I attribute quotes to Emerson D. Waters?
Hempcon: ...
I stopped at this point, he never replied to my last email and obviously wasn't interested in opening a dialogue about how to make his event more welcoming to paying customers, and that's sad for him, the event, and the industry. Perhaps I shouldn't have started out with the humorous tone, maybe my super-professional voice would have gotten better results, but I doubt that. People who make money off the exploitation of others are rarely looking to change. But I stood up and said what was true, and now I'm standing up again to say it louder:
This is not ok.
And I will not stop until the sexual objectification of my gender stops. I'll probably be at it until I die, and I'll meet a hundred more condescending, sexist guys like old Emerson up there, but they will not shut me up and they sure as hell won't keep us down. The oppressors of women and other minorities will eventually go out of fashion, be labeled for the bigoted, embarrassing dinosaurs they are, and when they all finally die off, society will be better for it, and we will rejoice.
More...
Monday, March 25, 2013
Leaving A Mark
I've got another poem analysis for you. There are a few curse words, but I think we'll all be okay.
Another favorite of mine from The Quarter of Poetry was Dorianne Laux's Graffiti. I grew up in a poor, downtown neighborhood, not unlike the scene described in this poem, and maybe that's why it struck a nerve with me. Or maybe it's the burning need to leave a mark upon the world that the speaker describes. I know that feeling well.
Dorianne Laux
Graffiti
Near the Dayton Avenue signal tower,
below the tracks of the Southern P,
skittish brown birds build nests
in what's left of the trees, repeating
their one stunned note, repeating
their small dun selves.
Near the white lime piles
where factories bury their trash,
boys lug grocery sacks of spray cans
to the wall already crazy with pictures
and painted words: COCK, CUNT, KILL,
so carefully and beautifully made,
and the large, elaborate names: Skeet.
Damon. JoJo. Cray. From here
they can feel the train grind by,
pulling its row of open boxcars, the blank sky
punched through each empty door. Here,
in blue jeans and bandannas, among
the discarded car seats, the shriveled
condoms and broken glass, they will scrawl
themselves into infinity. One boy
picks up a can of red paint, sprays over
JoJo's name. It glides on effortlessly.
Three smooth strokes and he's gone.
Dorianne Laux's Graffiti is about people's universal struggle towards something permanent.
The boys are symbolic of humanity as a whole, how we seek recognition in an impossible sea of others just like us, and strive for immortality when our lives are brutally short. The wall is our history as human beings, the graffiti is our mark, what we do with our lives. The tone of the poem is one of hope amidst desperation and struggle, and the speaker relies upon the poetic devices of alliteration and assonance, irony, and rhythm to make her point.
The first sentence of the poem sets the scene.
"Near the Dayton Avenue signal tower,
below the tracks of the Southern P,
skittish brown birds build nests
in what's left of the trees, repeating
their one stunned note, repeating
their small dun selves."
We're in an inner-city, somewhere stark and barren. There are trees, but they aren't cared for, and there are birds, but they lead dull, repetitive lives. Alliteration and assonance are used quite a bit in this poem, and they add to the weight of nearly every line. The S and B sounds in line 3, "skittish brown birds build nests", alongside the repetition of the word "repeating" in lines 4 and 5 gives a particular sense of a flock of small, identical birds, all fidgeting and twittering in the same way. The birds are symbolic of the people who live in areas like these, the janitors and the dishwashers and the laborers who do the tedious tasks the rest of humanity abhors. They work hard and sleep in cheap beds and have children who live the same "dun" lives they watched their parents lead.
There is an irony in the language of the poem that starts in the first sentence and pervades throughout. The scene is cold, unforgiving, but nearly every single word in Graffiti is beautiful, or treated as if it is. The speaker shows us the magnificence in what would normally be a depressing moment and it connects the reader. We're all searching for beauty and meaning, no matter where we come from.
"Near the white lime piles
where factories bury their trash,
boys lug grocery sacks of spray cans
to the wall already crazy with pictures
and painted words: COCK, CUNT, KILL,
so carefully and beautifully made,
and the large, elaborate names: Skeet.
Damon. JoJo. Cray."
In the second sentence (I'm counting the isolated names within the single sentence, for simplicity's sake), the scene is set further with the image of "the white lime piles" over industrial garbage to drive home the point that we are in an urban wasteland. The repetition of the long I in white, lime and piles also lends to the imagery of a series of stark dunes in the mind's eye. Then, out of these desiccating dunes comes life, in the form of boys willing to brave the toxic environment to paint on a canvas, desperate to leave their particular mark on this world. Line 9 also has a noticeable sound to it with the repetition of the S in “grocery sacks of spray cans”, which reminds us of the sound of a spray can hissing as it's used.
The wall is representative of human history, and the words "COCK, CUNT, KILL" can not be mistaken, they are a message from our most primitive of drives to reproduce and survive, to repeat our dun selves. The line is already emphatic for the capitalization and pauses at the end of each word that force the reader to stop and savor every expletive, but the repeated hard K sound is also harsh, cacophonous. The words are socially taboo and their very sound is sexual and violent. The description of this graffiti, however, in line 12, is in stark contrast in both tone and sound. "Carefully and beautifully" is a lovely, yet ironic, turn of phrase, the rhyme and meter are melodic, but the words themselves would never be a normal descriptor of such spray-painted vulgarities. The contrast startles the reader into seeing something we normally take as an ugly nuisance, or a petty crime, as artistic expression.
The spray paint is our mark that we want to leave on the world, and the graffiti -the pictures, vulgarities, and "large, elaborate names"- is the history that we've left thus far. The names are given caesuras because they are the whole point of lugging the spray paint all this way. The first thing we learn to write is our name, and to scrawl it hastily or draw it beautifully is making our own individual mark. Our names are integral to our identities, and there's no better way to fight the insignificance of anonymity than to shout one's name from the rooftops, or paint it elaborately in twenty-foot high letters.
"From here
they can feel the train grind by,
pulling its row of open boxcars, the blank sky
punched through each empty door."
The train in the third sentence is a symbol of opportunities these boys don't have. It grinds past them (a verb that invokes struggle) but it's empty. The doors are open and there's nothing but the vastness of the sky to be seen in them. If there was ever something there, it's long gone now.
In the fourth sentence is when the phoenix starts its rise from the ashes, and the tone of the poem turns hopeful:
"Here,
in blue jeans and bandannas, among
the discarded car seats, the shriveled
condoms and broken glass, they will scrawl
themselves into infinity."
The boys are of the streets, and the streets are chaotic, dirty and dangerous. Despite this, the boys want more, they want to be known, they want to mark something for themselves that lasts longer than their "dun" lives. The words used in this sentence are interesting. Line 18's "blue jeans and bandannas" has repetitive B, A, and N sounds that echo the feel of "skittish brown birds", drawing a parallel between the two. The repetition of the CAR sound in "discarded car seats" makes it musical, and the words shriveled and broken are somewhat abstract examples of onomatopoeia.
The speaker doesn't say the boys are drawing or writing on the wall, they're scrawling, a word that sounds like scramble and scrape and crawling, more verbs of struggle. Scrawling is also one of the most basic actions a human can take with a hand tool, we've been scrawling since our prehistoric infancy.
For all the meaning in this sentence, it climaxes with the resolution. From a place where discarded, shriveled, and broken are the descriptors, the concept of infinity springs forth, forever, being bigger than our small dun selves.
"One boy
picks up a can of red paint, sprays over
JoJo's name. It glides on effortlessly.
Three smooth strokes and he's gone."
The final sentences are short and poignant. One person writes over another, destroying their infinity for his own.
The boy uses red paint, which contrasts with the drab colors used in the poem otherwise (dun, brown birds, white piles), reinforcing his need to be distinguished from the crowd. In making his own immortality, the boy has taken JoJo's without pause ("effortlessly", "smooth strokes") or thought that his will also be taken someday. The irony is a painful reminder that we never really get what we want, we'll all die and fade away, no matter how hard we try to be remembered.
Addendum: I chose this poem, reveled in this poem, and now that I've realized I need to pursue writing as a career, my total obsession with this poem at the time makes a whole lot more sense. I don't hold any illusions of permanence, I'm an atheist existentialist so I think we're all just ants on a rock hurtling through space with a billion other rocks that may also have existentialist-atheist ants on them, but I do want to make an impact on my fellow ants, I want to help people be better, and happier. I want to make my mark on this world, and in taking the next steps in my education I feel like I'm finally picking up the spray can. I'm nowhere near the trigger yet, but the can feels good in my hand. I'll get there.
More...
Another favorite of mine from The Quarter of Poetry was Dorianne Laux's Graffiti. I grew up in a poor, downtown neighborhood, not unlike the scene described in this poem, and maybe that's why it struck a nerve with me. Or maybe it's the burning need to leave a mark upon the world that the speaker describes. I know that feeling well.
Dorianne Laux
Graffiti
Near the Dayton Avenue signal tower,
below the tracks of the Southern P,
skittish brown birds build nests
in what's left of the trees, repeating
their one stunned note, repeating
their small dun selves.
Near the white lime piles
where factories bury their trash,
boys lug grocery sacks of spray cans
to the wall already crazy with pictures
and painted words: COCK, CUNT, KILL,
so carefully and beautifully made,
and the large, elaborate names: Skeet.
Damon. JoJo. Cray. From here
they can feel the train grind by,
pulling its row of open boxcars, the blank sky
punched through each empty door. Here,
in blue jeans and bandannas, among
the discarded car seats, the shriveled
condoms and broken glass, they will scrawl
themselves into infinity. One boy
picks up a can of red paint, sprays over
JoJo's name. It glides on effortlessly.
Three smooth strokes and he's gone.
Dorianne Laux's Graffiti is about people's universal struggle towards something permanent.
The boys are symbolic of humanity as a whole, how we seek recognition in an impossible sea of others just like us, and strive for immortality when our lives are brutally short. The wall is our history as human beings, the graffiti is our mark, what we do with our lives. The tone of the poem is one of hope amidst desperation and struggle, and the speaker relies upon the poetic devices of alliteration and assonance, irony, and rhythm to make her point.
The first sentence of the poem sets the scene.
"Near the Dayton Avenue signal tower,
below the tracks of the Southern P,
skittish brown birds build nests
in what's left of the trees, repeating
their one stunned note, repeating
their small dun selves."
We're in an inner-city, somewhere stark and barren. There are trees, but they aren't cared for, and there are birds, but they lead dull, repetitive lives. Alliteration and assonance are used quite a bit in this poem, and they add to the weight of nearly every line. The S and B sounds in line 3, "skittish brown birds build nests", alongside the repetition of the word "repeating" in lines 4 and 5 gives a particular sense of a flock of small, identical birds, all fidgeting and twittering in the same way. The birds are symbolic of the people who live in areas like these, the janitors and the dishwashers and the laborers who do the tedious tasks the rest of humanity abhors. They work hard and sleep in cheap beds and have children who live the same "dun" lives they watched their parents lead.
There is an irony in the language of the poem that starts in the first sentence and pervades throughout. The scene is cold, unforgiving, but nearly every single word in Graffiti is beautiful, or treated as if it is. The speaker shows us the magnificence in what would normally be a depressing moment and it connects the reader. We're all searching for beauty and meaning, no matter where we come from.
"Near the white lime piles
where factories bury their trash,
boys lug grocery sacks of spray cans
to the wall already crazy with pictures
and painted words: COCK, CUNT, KILL,
so carefully and beautifully made,
and the large, elaborate names: Skeet.
Damon. JoJo. Cray."
In the second sentence (I'm counting the isolated names within the single sentence, for simplicity's sake), the scene is set further with the image of "the white lime piles" over industrial garbage to drive home the point that we are in an urban wasteland. The repetition of the long I in white, lime and piles also lends to the imagery of a series of stark dunes in the mind's eye. Then, out of these desiccating dunes comes life, in the form of boys willing to brave the toxic environment to paint on a canvas, desperate to leave their particular mark on this world. Line 9 also has a noticeable sound to it with the repetition of the S in “grocery sacks of spray cans”, which reminds us of the sound of a spray can hissing as it's used.
The wall is representative of human history, and the words "COCK, CUNT, KILL" can not be mistaken, they are a message from our most primitive of drives to reproduce and survive, to repeat our dun selves. The line is already emphatic for the capitalization and pauses at the end of each word that force the reader to stop and savor every expletive, but the repeated hard K sound is also harsh, cacophonous. The words are socially taboo and their very sound is sexual and violent. The description of this graffiti, however, in line 12, is in stark contrast in both tone and sound. "Carefully and beautifully" is a lovely, yet ironic, turn of phrase, the rhyme and meter are melodic, but the words themselves would never be a normal descriptor of such spray-painted vulgarities. The contrast startles the reader into seeing something we normally take as an ugly nuisance, or a petty crime, as artistic expression.
The spray paint is our mark that we want to leave on the world, and the graffiti -the pictures, vulgarities, and "large, elaborate names"- is the history that we've left thus far. The names are given caesuras because they are the whole point of lugging the spray paint all this way. The first thing we learn to write is our name, and to scrawl it hastily or draw it beautifully is making our own individual mark. Our names are integral to our identities, and there's no better way to fight the insignificance of anonymity than to shout one's name from the rooftops, or paint it elaborately in twenty-foot high letters.
"From here
they can feel the train grind by,
pulling its row of open boxcars, the blank sky
punched through each empty door."
The train in the third sentence is a symbol of opportunities these boys don't have. It grinds past them (a verb that invokes struggle) but it's empty. The doors are open and there's nothing but the vastness of the sky to be seen in them. If there was ever something there, it's long gone now.
In the fourth sentence is when the phoenix starts its rise from the ashes, and the tone of the poem turns hopeful:
"Here,
in blue jeans and bandannas, among
the discarded car seats, the shriveled
condoms and broken glass, they will scrawl
themselves into infinity."
The boys are of the streets, and the streets are chaotic, dirty and dangerous. Despite this, the boys want more, they want to be known, they want to mark something for themselves that lasts longer than their "dun" lives. The words used in this sentence are interesting. Line 18's "blue jeans and bandannas" has repetitive B, A, and N sounds that echo the feel of "skittish brown birds", drawing a parallel between the two. The repetition of the CAR sound in "discarded car seats" makes it musical, and the words shriveled and broken are somewhat abstract examples of onomatopoeia.
The speaker doesn't say the boys are drawing or writing on the wall, they're scrawling, a word that sounds like scramble and scrape and crawling, more verbs of struggle. Scrawling is also one of the most basic actions a human can take with a hand tool, we've been scrawling since our prehistoric infancy.
For all the meaning in this sentence, it climaxes with the resolution. From a place where discarded, shriveled, and broken are the descriptors, the concept of infinity springs forth, forever, being bigger than our small dun selves.
"One boy
picks up a can of red paint, sprays over
JoJo's name. It glides on effortlessly.
Three smooth strokes and he's gone."
The final sentences are short and poignant. One person writes over another, destroying their infinity for his own.
The boy uses red paint, which contrasts with the drab colors used in the poem otherwise (dun, brown birds, white piles), reinforcing his need to be distinguished from the crowd. In making his own immortality, the boy has taken JoJo's without pause ("effortlessly", "smooth strokes") or thought that his will also be taken someday. The irony is a painful reminder that we never really get what we want, we'll all die and fade away, no matter how hard we try to be remembered.
Addendum: I chose this poem, reveled in this poem, and now that I've realized I need to pursue writing as a career, my total obsession with this poem at the time makes a whole lot more sense. I don't hold any illusions of permanence, I'm an atheist existentialist so I think we're all just ants on a rock hurtling through space with a billion other rocks that may also have existentialist-atheist ants on them, but I do want to make an impact on my fellow ants, I want to help people be better, and happier. I want to make my mark on this world, and in taking the next steps in my education I feel like I'm finally picking up the spray can. I'm nowhere near the trigger yet, but the can feels good in my hand. I'll get there.
More...
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
A Day In The Life
I woke up this morning with goals in mind, and like I am wont to do, I made a list to help myself along.
Things to do today: Make breakfast. Shower. Get the bread machine going. Take a walk all the way up the hill. Put away the clean laundry. Polish up my final paper. Watch Star Trek in my downtime. Write.
My end-of-the-day list revisit wasn't as successful as I'd hoped it would be, I managed the first four items and put in some time cleaning the kitchen, but it was a spotty migraine day, so the laundry is still looking at me and my paper looms.
So, I spent some quality time with Star Trek today, and I've finally hit the last season. I've made a few notes of what's stood out to me so far:
Season 1: Spock's ears and eyebrows change size and shape from episode to episode, especially the first half of the season. Kirk half walks/half dances through every scene like a cheesy lounge singer and he punctuates his movements the same as he does his lines, with unnecessary pauses for dramatic affect and a smirky half-smile on his face at all times. I keep missing Captain Pike, he was the greatest.
Season 2: Spock's ears and eyebrows seem to have found their happy medium. Kirk's pauses in speech have gotten worse, and have infiltrated the opening credits, along with an out-of-sync cowbell that makes my brain melt if I don't mute it in time. They introduced Chekhov, who is so hilariously a Russian Davy Jones, I cackle when his face fills my screen for the first time. How did so many planets turn into exact replicas of earth history?
Season 3: They let Scotty wear his hair back instead of the doofy forward comb he was rocking for the first two seasons. The cowbell is gone from the theme music, but Shat's "Starship... ... Enterprise," seems to be here to stay. Spock's ears and eyebrows are going wonky again. McCoy's always been cantankerous, but now he's just yelling at people for no reason.
Overall, Spock is the best and Kirk is the worst. I'm glad I didn't form my concept of gender roles from watching this show or I'd be constantly half-naked, smiling blankly, and disregarding whatever professional career I might have as soon as Captain Kirk or some alien-god comes along and smash-kisses me into submission. The show did good things for people of color and women on television, but it also perpetuated quite a few terrible stereotypes. I'm glad I watched it, I've loved the Star Trek franchise since I was a kid, and I'm happy to build my sci-fi education, but I won't purposefully watch it again.
I plan to see the movies next, then move onto the other Star Trek series, in order if I can. It's a lot of content, but I have a lot of migraine days and it's fun to feel like I'm accomplishing some kind of self-entertainment goal when I have to sit/lay down for a few hours and zone out.
More...
Things to do today: Make breakfast. Shower. Get the bread machine going. Take a walk all the way up the hill. Put away the clean laundry. Polish up my final paper. Watch Star Trek in my downtime. Write.
My end-of-the-day list revisit wasn't as successful as I'd hoped it would be, I managed the first four items and put in some time cleaning the kitchen, but it was a spotty migraine day, so the laundry is still looking at me and my paper looms.
So, I spent some quality time with Star Trek today, and I've finally hit the last season. I've made a few notes of what's stood out to me so far:
Season 1: Spock's ears and eyebrows change size and shape from episode to episode, especially the first half of the season. Kirk half walks/half dances through every scene like a cheesy lounge singer and he punctuates his movements the same as he does his lines, with unnecessary pauses for dramatic affect and a smirky half-smile on his face at all times. I keep missing Captain Pike, he was the greatest.
Season 2: Spock's ears and eyebrows seem to have found their happy medium. Kirk's pauses in speech have gotten worse, and have infiltrated the opening credits, along with an out-of-sync cowbell that makes my brain melt if I don't mute it in time. They introduced Chekhov, who is so hilariously a Russian Davy Jones, I cackle when his face fills my screen for the first time. How did so many planets turn into exact replicas of earth history?
Season 3: They let Scotty wear his hair back instead of the doofy forward comb he was rocking for the first two seasons. The cowbell is gone from the theme music, but Shat's "Starship... ... Enterprise," seems to be here to stay. Spock's ears and eyebrows are going wonky again. McCoy's always been cantankerous, but now he's just yelling at people for no reason.
Overall, Spock is the best and Kirk is the worst. I'm glad I didn't form my concept of gender roles from watching this show or I'd be constantly half-naked, smiling blankly, and disregarding whatever professional career I might have as soon as Captain Kirk or some alien-god comes along and smash-kisses me into submission. The show did good things for people of color and women on television, but it also perpetuated quite a few terrible stereotypes. I'm glad I watched it, I've loved the Star Trek franchise since I was a kid, and I'm happy to build my sci-fi education, but I won't purposefully watch it again.
I plan to see the movies next, then move onto the other Star Trek series, in order if I can. It's a lot of content, but I have a lot of migraine days and it's fun to feel like I'm accomplishing some kind of self-entertainment goal when I have to sit/lay down for a few hours and zone out.
More...
Thursday, March 14, 2013
A Dark Thing Inside My Head
In my recent English class, we analyzed a lot of poetry. One of my favorites was Linda Gregg's A Dark Thing Inside The Day. It's about embracing joy when we have it, despite the fear we may hold in our hearts. The poem speaks of a gloriously beautiful day, over which a brief shadow passes.
This is almost exactly my original essay, please forgive me if it goes a little school-ish with the lingo. I didn't edit much because I couldn't stand if someone stumbled onto this page looking to find out about the onomatopoeia in this poem and I'd talked about everything but. That would be terrible. Onward.
A Dark Thing Inside The Day, by Linda Gregg
So many want to be lifted by song and dancing,
and this morning it is easy to understand.
I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden
in the almond trees, the almonds still green
and thriving in the foliage. Up the street,
a man is hammering to make a new house as doves
continue their cooing forever. Bees humming
and high above that a brilliant clear sky.
The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.
Everything desirable is here already in abundance.
And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible
in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.
So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.
All the flowers are adult this year. The good
world gives and the white doves praise all of it.
The first sentence sets the tone of the poem,
“So many want to be lifted by song and dancing,
and this morning it is easy to understand.“
People need beauty and enjoyment, and the speaker knows why. This sentence changed for me upon rereading, and I find I can interpret it two ways, much like the entire poem. I initially read these lines as a version of “People seek happiness because the world around us is so beautiful, it's inspirational,” but the more I read the poem, the more this sentence becomes ominous. Now, I'm seeing it more as, “People seek happiness because fear is ever-present despite the everyday beauty around us.” The rest of the poem is an elaboration on this first line, in either interpretation.
“I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden
in the almond trees, the almonds still green
and thriving in the foliage.”
On the surface, this sentence is an observation of the nature surrounding the speaker. “Chirping”, “green”, and “thriving” give the impression of vibrant life, but that the almonds are “still green and thriving” makes me wonder if they will be for long. This is foreshadowing the darkness that comes later in the poem, and also perhaps the inevitability of winter. Those almonds will wither and fall, and before that, the birds might eat them all. Even while we enjoy our prosperity, we never forget our demise is inescapable.
“Up the street,
a man is hammering to make a new house as doves
continue their cooing forever.”
On the surface, sounds of distant hammering and the cooing of doves are comforting sounds of everyday life. The man is creating a home, being productive, but nothing is said of what happened to his old house. His need for a new home implies that there may have been a disaster, or maybe he's just trying to make something new for himself. Either way, the man is symbolic of rebuilding, moving forward. Doves are symbolic of peace historically, but also, doves and pigeons are all over the planet, much like people. As the doves coo forever, humanity will endure, whatever comes.
“Bees humming
and high above that a brilliant clear sky.
The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.
Everything desirable is here already in abundance.”
The humming of the bees and the smell of the roses add a layer of imagery to the poem; engaging all of our senses, we are there with the speaker on that gorgeous day. The line “Everything desirable is here already in abundance.” is a bit stilted, however, after the flowery descriptions of the birds, bees, flowers, and trees. Perhaps it's the word “already” that throws the eye and ear, but it's almost a clinical assessment of the blessings of the day, or an automatic reminder to the self to be grateful for what is in front of us. “Already” changes the meaning of the sentence just slightly, it assures us that nothing is missing from the scene, and that we need not look further for happiness, it's all here. It feels like the speaker is reassuring the reader, or herself.
“And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible
in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.”
The tone of the poem shifts briefly with these two lines, it changes from largely appreciative and happy, at least on the surface, to suddenly overtly menacing. The sea represents something frightening to the speaker, perhaps it's literal -there was a tsunami, or someone drowned- but it's more likely the sea is symbolic of something bigger: death, illness, pain, or fear. It's interesting that it's “hardly visible in the leaves”, since the leaves held chirping birds and just ripening almonds a few sentences ago. The speaker is seeing darkness where there was life and potential; her perspective has changed, a shadow has fallen across her mind. Thus, “we sleep easily,” shouldn't necessarily be taken as a simple statement of how well the speaker is slumbering. When we look at it with that darker cast, it becomes death, how fragile our lives are.
“So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.
All the flowers are adult this year. The good
world gives and the white doves praise all of it."
Instead of wallowing in the dark moment, the speaker has no complaints, no sad stories. The flowers have grown to fruition, nothing bad has happened as of late. So, we must be appreciative of the gifts we have in this world and be like the dove, just keep living and cooing.
I found the sounds of this poem to be subtle but their usage adds to the beauty of the scene. Alliteration is used as in the S's of “smell the sweetness” and “sad stories”, the A's and M's of “a man is hammering to make”, and the G's of “the good world gives”. Assonance is even more common, as in the I's of “chirping birds hidden”, A's of “already in abundance” and “all are adult”, and the repeated E sound of “in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily”.
There are rare uses of onomatopoeia in this poem. In “bees humming” the Z and M sounds recreate buzzing and the repeated IR sound of “chirping birds” is reminiscent of bird calls.
The tone of the poem is hopeful, but with an underlying threat. Nothing is ever as perfect as it seems, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't embrace what we have while we have it.
Addendum: Going over this essay again, it strikes me how much the dark thing inside my days is almost always migraine. And just like she says, even on a perfect day, it's always there, just hidden in the leaves, under the sheen. I also believe firmly in bringing no sad stories to warn the heart, because while complaining about my disability and my pain definitely has its place in my coping process, it's a very, very small place. At least, I try to keep it light.
I like to imagine the woman in this poem. I see her struggling with pain, it could be illness, or fear, or depression. She's trying to immerse herself in moments of beauty but she can't ever fully escape whatever "dark thing" is haunting her.
Thanks Linda Gregg, I love this poem.
More...
This is almost exactly my original essay, please forgive me if it goes a little school-ish with the lingo. I didn't edit much because I couldn't stand if someone stumbled onto this page looking to find out about the onomatopoeia in this poem and I'd talked about everything but. That would be terrible. Onward.
A Dark Thing Inside The Day, by Linda Gregg
So many want to be lifted by song and dancing,
and this morning it is easy to understand.
I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden
in the almond trees, the almonds still green
and thriving in the foliage. Up the street,
a man is hammering to make a new house as doves
continue their cooing forever. Bees humming
and high above that a brilliant clear sky.
The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.
Everything desirable is here already in abundance.
And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible
in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.
So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.
All the flowers are adult this year. The good
world gives and the white doves praise all of it.
The first sentence sets the tone of the poem,
“So many want to be lifted by song and dancing,
and this morning it is easy to understand.“
People need beauty and enjoyment, and the speaker knows why. This sentence changed for me upon rereading, and I find I can interpret it two ways, much like the entire poem. I initially read these lines as a version of “People seek happiness because the world around us is so beautiful, it's inspirational,” but the more I read the poem, the more this sentence becomes ominous. Now, I'm seeing it more as, “People seek happiness because fear is ever-present despite the everyday beauty around us.” The rest of the poem is an elaboration on this first line, in either interpretation.
“I write in the sound of chirping birds hidden
in the almond trees, the almonds still green
and thriving in the foliage.”
On the surface, this sentence is an observation of the nature surrounding the speaker. “Chirping”, “green”, and “thriving” give the impression of vibrant life, but that the almonds are “still green and thriving” makes me wonder if they will be for long. This is foreshadowing the darkness that comes later in the poem, and also perhaps the inevitability of winter. Those almonds will wither and fall, and before that, the birds might eat them all. Even while we enjoy our prosperity, we never forget our demise is inescapable.
“Up the street,
a man is hammering to make a new house as doves
continue their cooing forever.”
On the surface, sounds of distant hammering and the cooing of doves are comforting sounds of everyday life. The man is creating a home, being productive, but nothing is said of what happened to his old house. His need for a new home implies that there may have been a disaster, or maybe he's just trying to make something new for himself. Either way, the man is symbolic of rebuilding, moving forward. Doves are symbolic of peace historically, but also, doves and pigeons are all over the planet, much like people. As the doves coo forever, humanity will endure, whatever comes.
“Bees humming
and high above that a brilliant clear sky.
The roses are blooming and I smell the sweetness.
Everything desirable is here already in abundance.”
The humming of the bees and the smell of the roses add a layer of imagery to the poem; engaging all of our senses, we are there with the speaker on that gorgeous day. The line “Everything desirable is here already in abundance.” is a bit stilted, however, after the flowery descriptions of the birds, bees, flowers, and trees. Perhaps it's the word “already” that throws the eye and ear, but it's almost a clinical assessment of the blessings of the day, or an automatic reminder to the self to be grateful for what is in front of us. “Already” changes the meaning of the sentence just slightly, it assures us that nothing is missing from the scene, and that we need not look further for happiness, it's all here. It feels like the speaker is reassuring the reader, or herself.
“And the sea. The dark thing is hardly visible
in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily.”
The tone of the poem shifts briefly with these two lines, it changes from largely appreciative and happy, at least on the surface, to suddenly overtly menacing. The sea represents something frightening to the speaker, perhaps it's literal -there was a tsunami, or someone drowned- but it's more likely the sea is symbolic of something bigger: death, illness, pain, or fear. It's interesting that it's “hardly visible in the leaves”, since the leaves held chirping birds and just ripening almonds a few sentences ago. The speaker is seeing darkness where there was life and potential; her perspective has changed, a shadow has fallen across her mind. Thus, “we sleep easily,” shouldn't necessarily be taken as a simple statement of how well the speaker is slumbering. When we look at it with that darker cast, it becomes death, how fragile our lives are.
“So I bring no sad stories to warn the heart.
All the flowers are adult this year. The good
world gives and the white doves praise all of it."
Instead of wallowing in the dark moment, the speaker has no complaints, no sad stories. The flowers have grown to fruition, nothing bad has happened as of late. So, we must be appreciative of the gifts we have in this world and be like the dove, just keep living and cooing.
I found the sounds of this poem to be subtle but their usage adds to the beauty of the scene. Alliteration is used as in the S's of “smell the sweetness” and “sad stories”, the A's and M's of “a man is hammering to make”, and the G's of “the good world gives”. Assonance is even more common, as in the I's of “chirping birds hidden”, A's of “already in abundance” and “all are adult”, and the repeated E sound of “in the leaves, under the sheen. We sleep easily”.
There are rare uses of onomatopoeia in this poem. In “bees humming” the Z and M sounds recreate buzzing and the repeated IR sound of “chirping birds” is reminiscent of bird calls.
The tone of the poem is hopeful, but with an underlying threat. Nothing is ever as perfect as it seems, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't embrace what we have while we have it.
Addendum: Going over this essay again, it strikes me how much the dark thing inside my days is almost always migraine. And just like she says, even on a perfect day, it's always there, just hidden in the leaves, under the sheen. I also believe firmly in bringing no sad stories to warn the heart, because while complaining about my disability and my pain definitely has its place in my coping process, it's a very, very small place. At least, I try to keep it light.
I like to imagine the woman in this poem. I see her struggling with pain, it could be illness, or fear, or depression. She's trying to immerse herself in moments of beauty but she can't ever fully escape whatever "dark thing" is haunting her.
Thanks Linda Gregg, I love this poem.
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Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Fresh Bread and Clean Carpets
I've adopted some new appliances into my home. They are mostly great and I'd like to tell you about them now.
We were gifted a Kenmore 2 lb Bread Maker for my birthday, and it is working as we speak. I mean, it was making bread while I was typing the first draft of this post, it was making dough that would be pizza crust when I came back to edit, and it was making dough that would be deep dish pizza when I finally got around to posting, so I've been really putting this little workhorse through its paces and we're getting along just fine.
Kneading dough for fresh baked goods is very hard on my head, so it's really nice to just add the ingredients, push a few buttons, walk away, and have fresh bread (or dough for other things) a short time later. I can even set a timer, so I wake up to fresh bread in the morning. We haven't made it all the way through the recipe book yet, for lack of ingredients, but our most repeated recipe so far has been one I found on the interwebs, a french bread. It doesn't have the same texture as french bread from a bakery, it's more cakey, but it makes superlative toast and is nice for sandwiches and dipping. I'm hoping to get into darker grains soon, maybe rye.
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We've inherited a Roomba 560. It's adorable. I started anthropomorphizing it right away, so that's been fun. It's like having another pet, but one that cleans. I point this out to our little dog every other time roomba does a tour, but she remains unimpressed. We've used the roomba off and on for two months now and this little robot vacuum gets two thumbs up from me. It gives the floor a decent (not perfect) once over, makes alert noises and stops if cords or larger debris are tangled in its bits, it's easy to clean out, and it has a timer, so as long as we've picked up enough for it to run, it goes all on its own every day.
The roomba's been great so far, but I'll let you all know if it breaks. By which I mean I'll probably post pics of the funeral I'll hold for my dearly departed roombie, an elaborate affair that will be followed by a period of mourning that I might call shiva to make myself sound more interesting, but it will really just be days and days of marshmallows, tea, and Downton Abbey to soothe my broken soul.
--
Add a vacuum I can actually maneuver to the mix and we've got a clean carpet, people! We've also inherited a Eureka Optima Lightweight Mini-Upright Vacuum, and everyone is thrilled for me to be able to participate in the vacuuming again! It's much lighter than our old, borrowed vacuum at only about 12 lbs, and with it I can cover roughly half of our room at a time without serious migraine repercussions! I've honestly been wishing for a stick vac, the pushing and the noise of the standard vacuums are pretty awful for my head and reducing the weight I'm lugging around makes a huge difference. This Eureka isn't as light as a stick vacuum, but getting half the room done is much better than none of the room, so I'm enjoying the ease with which this machine was designed. The buttons and parts are all easy to decipher and maneuver, it's not too difficult to clean out the canister without getting yourself filthy, and best of all, the thing sucks super good. [Update: In May of the year 2013, this vacuum died, probably due to user error. Learn from my mistake: if this vacuum still works, but sounds funny, stop using it. RIP.]
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I was originally delighted to have a Capresso H2O Plus Glass Water Kettle come into my possession. It boils water in under five minutes and I love the auto shut-off feature because we forget boiling water on the stove FAR too often. The kettle came to us nearly new, in perfect-looking condition, but we used it less than ten times before it stopped working suddenly. My boyfriend thinks he can possibly fix it, but his honey-do list is already a mile long. The kettle's funeral will be held next Saturday in my front yard. I'll be laying it to rest in the garbage, after some words of thanks and irritation. You were great while you lasted, capresso, but I doubt I'll ever buy one of these.
So, some good and bad in these reviews. I'm really excited about my newly increased powers of vacuuming, am loving the fresh, cheap bread coming out of my kitchen like clockwork, and I'll miss that electric kettle but I've begun setting a timer when I put a pot on, and that keeps me from boiling the house down, so I suspect I'll be able to find happiness without an auto shut-off feature.
More...
We were gifted a Kenmore 2 lb Bread Maker for my birthday, and it is working as we speak. I mean, it was making bread while I was typing the first draft of this post, it was making dough that would be pizza crust when I came back to edit, and it was making dough that would be deep dish pizza when I finally got around to posting, so I've been really putting this little workhorse through its paces and we're getting along just fine.
Kneading dough for fresh baked goods is very hard on my head, so it's really nice to just add the ingredients, push a few buttons, walk away, and have fresh bread (or dough for other things) a short time later. I can even set a timer, so I wake up to fresh bread in the morning. We haven't made it all the way through the recipe book yet, for lack of ingredients, but our most repeated recipe so far has been one I found on the interwebs, a french bread. It doesn't have the same texture as french bread from a bakery, it's more cakey, but it makes superlative toast and is nice for sandwiches and dipping. I'm hoping to get into darker grains soon, maybe rye.
--
We've inherited a Roomba 560. It's adorable. I started anthropomorphizing it right away, so that's been fun. It's like having another pet, but one that cleans. I point this out to our little dog every other time roomba does a tour, but she remains unimpressed. We've used the roomba off and on for two months now and this little robot vacuum gets two thumbs up from me. It gives the floor a decent (not perfect) once over, makes alert noises and stops if cords or larger debris are tangled in its bits, it's easy to clean out, and it has a timer, so as long as we've picked up enough for it to run, it goes all on its own every day.
The roomba's been great so far, but I'll let you all know if it breaks. By which I mean I'll probably post pics of the funeral I'll hold for my dearly departed roombie, an elaborate affair that will be followed by a period of mourning that I might call shiva to make myself sound more interesting, but it will really just be days and days of marshmallows, tea, and Downton Abbey to soothe my broken soul.
--
Add a vacuum I can actually maneuver to the mix and we've got a clean carpet, people! We've also inherited a Eureka Optima Lightweight Mini-Upright Vacuum, and everyone is thrilled for me to be able to participate in the vacuuming again! It's much lighter than our old, borrowed vacuum at only about 12 lbs, and with it I can cover roughly half of our room at a time without serious migraine repercussions! I've honestly been wishing for a stick vac, the pushing and the noise of the standard vacuums are pretty awful for my head and reducing the weight I'm lugging around makes a huge difference. This Eureka isn't as light as a stick vacuum, but getting half the room done is much better than none of the room, so I'm enjoying the ease with which this machine was designed. The buttons and parts are all easy to decipher and maneuver, it's not too difficult to clean out the canister without getting yourself filthy, and best of all, the thing sucks super good. [Update: In May of the year 2013, this vacuum died, probably due to user error. Learn from my mistake: if this vacuum still works, but sounds funny, stop using it. RIP.]
--
I was originally delighted to have a Capresso H2O Plus Glass Water Kettle come into my possession. It boils water in under five minutes and I love the auto shut-off feature because we forget boiling water on the stove FAR too often. The kettle came to us nearly new, in perfect-looking condition, but we used it less than ten times before it stopped working suddenly. My boyfriend thinks he can possibly fix it, but his honey-do list is already a mile long. The kettle's funeral will be held next Saturday in my front yard. I'll be laying it to rest in the garbage, after some words of thanks and irritation. You were great while you lasted, capresso, but I doubt I'll ever buy one of these.
So, some good and bad in these reviews. I'm really excited about my newly increased powers of vacuuming, am loving the fresh, cheap bread coming out of my kitchen like clockwork, and I'll miss that electric kettle but I've begun setting a timer when I put a pot on, and that keeps me from boiling the house down, so I suspect I'll be able to find happiness without an auto shut-off feature.
More...
Monday, February 4, 2013
The Trip
Arizona. I would rather not travel there ever again.
First of all, I'm just not a desert person. I hate being hot, and so do my migraines, and while I can objectively see the beauty in the desert landscape, I spent much of my time looking out over the barren view wishing for plants and trees and flowers and GREEN.
That said, the sunrises and sunsets were stunning, gas was cheaper, and it was cloudy or rainy almost the entire trip, saving me from some perilous 80 degree temps.
We made the trip because my partner's mother died, and he felt a strong need to clean out her house himself. His siblings wanted to hire people to come in, clean up, and sell it all off, which I understand completely, but my boyfriend needed closure, so he offered to have us come out, clean up, and haul back what was worth keeping, selling or donating.
To get down there, we rented a full-size car through Fox, then got a free upgrade to a luxury when we got the insurance. They gave us a Chrysler 300, which was pretty fancy, and a dream to drive, though it had some electrical issues with charging our accessories.
We drove down California, uneventfully, save for a disappointing hotel stay at Hotel Zoso in Palm Springs. The staff was polite, but the front desk was disorganized, the room was shabby (scuffed up furniture and OLD carpet with sloppy patch jobs does not make a good impression), they had the slowest internet since 1995, parking was a choice between paying for their valet or leaving the car on the street, the common areas were dirty, the elevator buttons didn't all work, the walls were thin enough so we could hear every movement in the rooms around us, and they charged a resort fee that left us wondering where the resort was. But the bathtub was big enough to float in and I took full advantage (even though the faucet handle was broken). When I needed to medicate, I had to smoke out on the street, which isn't my favorite. It's perfectly legal, but it can attract attention, which is the last thing I want to deal with when my head hurts.
We drove the rest of the way to Phoenix the next day, and settled in at the astoundingly perfect Marriott Residence Inn in Peoria by evening. We got a fantastic little suite with a kitchenette, and after the disappointment that was Zoso, my boyfriend took uncharacteristic pleasure in settling us in. We brought food in a cooler, so we had the fridge and pantry stocked with some basics, and they offered free breakfast, which we gladly accepted every morning. The hotel was undergoing renovations to their usual breakfast room (which did get noisy during the day), so they even offered free delivery of breakfast at our chosen half-hour window.
As far as medicating, the Residence Inn is a non-smoking hotel, so we talked to management ahead of time about my marijuana prescription and they assured me that they had a small smoking area and that it would be no problem. In fact, the smoking area was the same as the pet area, so when it was necessary, I got to heal myself and give the dog a stretch and a pee at the same time. We really loved this place and were sad to leave. The staff was fantastic, the room was gorgeous and comfortable, and even their scented toiletries were semi-usable! (Not so at Zoso, I had to hide them all in the room safe they were so rank.)
The cleaning and sorting and packing was all pretty miserable. Emotions were running high, one family member couldn't seem to stop screaming about everything, and the house was not in good shape. I'll write about what happened with his mom and how she died at another time, but it was a difficult situation, emotionally and physically.
We had originally aimed to take our time getting home, we thought we might take in some sights if we were up to it. Unfortunately, there were some financial surprises and after four days of manual labor, we just wanted to get home anyway. So, we packed up a big old Budget truck and drove through the night, only stopping to sleep for a few hours at a rest stop. It was the second most uncomfortable night of my life.
When we got back to our local city, we rented a storage unit for the biggest items and stuff we wouldn't be dealing with right away and unpacked most of the truck. Then, we drove home and slept. We're still unpacking what we did bring home, putting away what we'll use, and the donate pile continues to grow ever-larger. It feels like it will never end, but I know that if we just keep chipping away at it, our home will look normal again.
Going through his mother's things was cathartic and awful, but my boyfriend is so grateful he was able to do it. Being able to take home pieces of her life, and put to rest or recycle what we won't keep, it's a good metaphor for healing after death. She was a complicated woman, and she will be missed.
More...
First of all, I'm just not a desert person. I hate being hot, and so do my migraines, and while I can objectively see the beauty in the desert landscape, I spent much of my time looking out over the barren view wishing for plants and trees and flowers and GREEN.
That said, the sunrises and sunsets were stunning, gas was cheaper, and it was cloudy or rainy almost the entire trip, saving me from some perilous 80 degree temps.
We made the trip because my partner's mother died, and he felt a strong need to clean out her house himself. His siblings wanted to hire people to come in, clean up, and sell it all off, which I understand completely, but my boyfriend needed closure, so he offered to have us come out, clean up, and haul back what was worth keeping, selling or donating.
To get down there, we rented a full-size car through Fox, then got a free upgrade to a luxury when we got the insurance. They gave us a Chrysler 300, which was pretty fancy, and a dream to drive, though it had some electrical issues with charging our accessories.
We drove down California, uneventfully, save for a disappointing hotel stay at Hotel Zoso in Palm Springs. The staff was polite, but the front desk was disorganized, the room was shabby (scuffed up furniture and OLD carpet with sloppy patch jobs does not make a good impression), they had the slowest internet since 1995, parking was a choice between paying for their valet or leaving the car on the street, the common areas were dirty, the elevator buttons didn't all work, the walls were thin enough so we could hear every movement in the rooms around us, and they charged a resort fee that left us wondering where the resort was. But the bathtub was big enough to float in and I took full advantage (even though the faucet handle was broken). When I needed to medicate, I had to smoke out on the street, which isn't my favorite. It's perfectly legal, but it can attract attention, which is the last thing I want to deal with when my head hurts.
We drove the rest of the way to Phoenix the next day, and settled in at the astoundingly perfect Marriott Residence Inn in Peoria by evening. We got a fantastic little suite with a kitchenette, and after the disappointment that was Zoso, my boyfriend took uncharacteristic pleasure in settling us in. We brought food in a cooler, so we had the fridge and pantry stocked with some basics, and they offered free breakfast, which we gladly accepted every morning. The hotel was undergoing renovations to their usual breakfast room (which did get noisy during the day), so they even offered free delivery of breakfast at our chosen half-hour window.
As far as medicating, the Residence Inn is a non-smoking hotel, so we talked to management ahead of time about my marijuana prescription and they assured me that they had a small smoking area and that it would be no problem. In fact, the smoking area was the same as the pet area, so when it was necessary, I got to heal myself and give the dog a stretch and a pee at the same time. We really loved this place and were sad to leave. The staff was fantastic, the room was gorgeous and comfortable, and even their scented toiletries were semi-usable! (Not so at Zoso, I had to hide them all in the room safe they were so rank.)
The cleaning and sorting and packing was all pretty miserable. Emotions were running high, one family member couldn't seem to stop screaming about everything, and the house was not in good shape. I'll write about what happened with his mom and how she died at another time, but it was a difficult situation, emotionally and physically.
We had originally aimed to take our time getting home, we thought we might take in some sights if we were up to it. Unfortunately, there were some financial surprises and after four days of manual labor, we just wanted to get home anyway. So, we packed up a big old Budget truck and drove through the night, only stopping to sleep for a few hours at a rest stop. It was the second most uncomfortable night of my life.
When we got back to our local city, we rented a storage unit for the biggest items and stuff we wouldn't be dealing with right away and unpacked most of the truck. Then, we drove home and slept. We're still unpacking what we did bring home, putting away what we'll use, and the donate pile continues to grow ever-larger. It feels like it will never end, but I know that if we just keep chipping away at it, our home will look normal again.
Going through his mother's things was cathartic and awful, but my boyfriend is so grateful he was able to do it. Being able to take home pieces of her life, and put to rest or recycle what we won't keep, it's a good metaphor for healing after death. She was a complicated woman, and she will be missed.
More...
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Surprise Stink
I meticulously read the labels of everything I purchase. Unfortunately, I still sometimes bring home items that are toxic.
A few weeks ago, we grabbed a package of Glad 30 gallon Strong Large Quick-Tie Trash Bags at the store; we had a full kitchen garbage can at home and absolutely no liners left. We also didn't have a lot of money, so we bought just a small package of 10 and it was a brand and type chosen more for price than any other reason. Unfortunately, when we got home and desperately changed out the stuffed garbage can, it became immediately apparent that this product had been mislabeled. Fragrance hit me square in the nose and made my head immediately rear up with a confusion/irritability combo, dizziness and nausea. We quadruple-checked the label, there was no mention of fragrance anywhere.
So, I emailed Glad's customer service and they sent me a coupon that I'm a little afraid to use. What if my next purchase of the brand is, again, surprise-stinky? It's not a gamble I can take lightly, but since I at least have a coupon to use and it's not my very spare cash going into the experiment, I'll give them another try.
Despite being fairly satisfied with Glad's customer service response, I emailed them again because I'm concerned that people without sensitivities to fragrance aren't taking these issues seriously enough. Must fragrances be in every product we buy? I already have issues walking past the detergent aisle's thick fog of Spring Freshness and Linen Overload, do we really need scented garbage bags, too?
It's exhausting, being so sensitive to scents, and it would be nice if the rest of the world would just turn it down a notch.
More...
A few weeks ago, we grabbed a package of Glad 30 gallon Strong Large Quick-Tie Trash Bags at the store; we had a full kitchen garbage can at home and absolutely no liners left. We also didn't have a lot of money, so we bought just a small package of 10 and it was a brand and type chosen more for price than any other reason. Unfortunately, when we got home and desperately changed out the stuffed garbage can, it became immediately apparent that this product had been mislabeled. Fragrance hit me square in the nose and made my head immediately rear up with a confusion/irritability combo, dizziness and nausea. We quadruple-checked the label, there was no mention of fragrance anywhere.
So, I emailed Glad's customer service and they sent me a coupon that I'm a little afraid to use. What if my next purchase of the brand is, again, surprise-stinky? It's not a gamble I can take lightly, but since I at least have a coupon to use and it's not my very spare cash going into the experiment, I'll give them another try.
Despite being fairly satisfied with Glad's customer service response, I emailed them again because I'm concerned that people without sensitivities to fragrance aren't taking these issues seriously enough. Must fragrances be in every product we buy? I already have issues walking past the detergent aisle's thick fog of Spring Freshness and Linen Overload, do we really need scented garbage bags, too?
It's exhausting, being so sensitive to scents, and it would be nice if the rest of the world would just turn it down a notch.
More...
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