Sick People

I have been thinking a lot about mortality lately. Of course, it's not the
first time it has come up for me, but I seem to be consumed by it more than
usual. In the past, my circle of thought usually went: "It's scary to think
about aging and dying. I think I believe in some kind of
afterlife/spiritual component/rebirth concept, and that is comforting. But
our universe is so grandiose, and we think that someday the sun is going to
explode and the earth will have no energy source and...I'm feeling a bit of
vertigo and this is all so big to think about. It's scary to think about
aging and dying." So I have always been able to move on, think about
something else, realize that (I hope) I will have a chance to work through
the dying process and reconcile with it before it happens.

Then I started this rotation. We have dealt with a lot of death this
semester, and our curriculum has been woefully inadequate in preparing us.
What's more, when it happens, there is virtually no support. That has been
a lot to deal with, and I have been consumed with this anxiety about aging
and dying. I feel an overwhelming sense of urgency--time seems to fly, and
nothing seems important enough to wait until "next year," "later" or
"someday." Paradoxically, this has mostly had the effect of paralyzing me
to the point that I have procrastinated on so many things I don't know how
to set a schedule to get back on track. Then today, I realized something
else. Working in a hospital, and dealing mostly with "sick people," my
perception is skewed. From my perspective, everyone is en route to some
decline that will steal their mind and their ability to do for themselves,
and it is coming soon. I literally forgot that not everyone is sick. I
don't mean to minimize the experience of the people that are our patients,
but it is also nice to know that there is diversity in towards the end of
your life experiences. Who knows, maybe this will prove to be a
breakthrough for me.

I'd meditate now, but I already "self medicated" tonight with a glass of red
wine, which always makes me sleepy. By self medicating, I mean because of
its heart protecting properties, of course.

Snip, Snip

It's gone. I cut off a foot of hair to give to Locks of Love. Now I have a
cute, much more manageable, bob. The reactions have ranged from "Oh my god
I love it," to "I'm mesmerized by her haircut," to "Your hair is scary!"
The last one was from the kids that I babysit, who have a tendency to be
rude. What I like about my haircut is that I finally feel like I have my
hair back. I knew my real hair was under the long hair. I am also glad not
to have to lift it to wash my back in the shower anymore.

Me and Bloomingdales

In December, the family that I babysat for gave me $200 in gift cards at
Bloomingdales as a holiday bonus. At the time, I was upset--I needed money,
not gift cards, and I have never been to Bloomingdales and couldn't fathom
spending $200 there. As it turns out, that is just about enough money to
buy one shoe. Spending the money wouldn't be a problem, but getting through
the shopping experience might be.

I've been putting off my Bloomingdales excursion. I pretty much hate
shopping more than anything else. I go into a store, my heart starts to
race, I can't focus, and unless someone else is there pulling stuff for me
and I can just wander aimlessly, I am useless. Once, I went to a store
looking for tank tops. I knew what kind of tank tops I wanted, and I knew
what size (having tried on the ones my roommate had). Still, I managed to
buy four tank tops in the wrong size. Amazing.

Finally, today, I had occasion to be in midtown and decided to take the
plunge. My mother gave me knives for Christmas and I have been wanting to
sharpen them and maybe get a block to store them in. I walked into the
store, which turned out to be worse than I could have possibly imagined.
The first floor was makeup counters, bags, and perfumes. It is weirdly
bright and polished, and the most of the shoppers had multiple bags and
looked...experienced. And non-plussed at the prices. I felt woozy, but I
managed to make my way to housewares on the sixth floor. I felt a little
more comfortable among the pans, gadgets, and salad spinners. When I tried
to get help finding the right knife sharpener, I had a miserable customer
service experience. "Did you look over here?" he said, tone annoyed. Not
that I care, but isn't this why people pay premium? I kept feeling like
people could smell my gift certificates, that I was from Brooklyn, and that
I have no money. Finally, I called my friend who cooks, and he guided me
into buying a diamond studded sharpening block. On my way out with the
"Little Brown Bag," I was offered two samples of perfume. I hadn't
realized, but no one had offered on my way in (my sister says it's because I
looked like a deer in headlights and people were scared). I made a decision
to try and spend the rest of my gift certificates online.

I love Brooklyn.

Living on a Prayer

I have been angry lately (I mentioned an "angry streak" in my first post--in
reality it's been more like an "angry really long time"). I think I have
been able to mask it fairly well, but the tiniest things are making me boil
inside. I have been trying to keep to my commitment not to complain
anymore, except that I somehow manage to have so much to complain about.
This is not how I want to feel. This is not who I think I am. I know some
trans-folk who are getting surgery that say their real body is underneath
what they have right now. I feel like my real personality is buried under
all this anger.

Right now, I am fairly convinced that the miracle solution to all of this
anger is prayer. If I can recognize the spirit all around me, all the time,
I think I can get rid of some of the anger. I actually decided this some
time ago, and I made plans to meditate every morning and evening, take a
moment before eating, etc. The only snag is that I don't know how to pray.
I use the word pray loosely, since I don't believe that there is a personal,
grandfatherly-like god in the sky to pray to. Intellectually, I take prayer
to mean being grateful, focusing on the "spirit of life," and being mindful
of divinity. Subconsciously though, I still have visions of kneeling in a
Catholic church, hands folded, pouring out my soul and being absolved.
While that is my vision of prayer, it never actually worked for me, I never
believed in the words I was saying, and while I was kneeling in that
dramatic vision, I was probably thinking about whether or not they were
going to have donuts in the rectory after church.

I have had some positive experiences with prayer recently. I have a friend
who was having some issues, and I decided one night to meditate focusing on
her. I did some breathing exercises for a while, and when I felt focused I
concentrated on all of my energy and sending it to her. It was very
physical, my entire body was engaged and I felt the departure of the energy.
Also, I have been lighting candles in church every Sunday that I am there
(at first to ask for something, and later to be grateful that what I asked
for happened). We light candles during the meditation portion of the
service, and I have been able to concentrate throughout that portion on what
I am lighting the candle for. Finally, when I was meditating with my friend
the other night, the last song was called "Mother's Gift" and in the middle
of the song a beautiful voice comes in through the other low voices and says
"dear one, lie you down/I will heal you...wash away the pain/wrap you in the
mother's gift of love." It had been a particularly bad day, and during this
portion I literally felt enclosed--like I was being wrapped in a full body
hug that touched every surface of my body.

All of that is good. Most of the time, though, when I try to meditate I
can't concentrate or I fall asleep. Also, there are times when I don't want
to meditate, when I want to say something that indicates my feelings and
that I am grateful/present/aware. Before eating, for example. Or, a better
example--I wanted to smudge my apartment last month (burn some sage to clear
the energy) and I wanted to say things and light candles to ritualize the
experience and make clear my intentions, but I had nothing. I guess I don't
believe I need to be saying anything, but in truth I need to in order to
focus myself. Also, when I am trying to do something like that and I come
up with nothing to say, I just start to get angry and frustrated again. Oh
well, I guess there are worse things to be frustrated about than not being
able to figure out how to pray.

Socially Responsible

My friend posted a link on her blog for a story about conservatives breeding
to a greater degree than liberals. Fantastic. I've actually thought a lot
lately about my future potential for breeding. I babysit quite a bit (say,
5-6 days per week) and some of the kids that I currently spend time with are
particularly trying. "Get me this," "Get me that," "That pizza looks weird,
I'm not eating it," "Shut up," "You're mean," etc, etc, etc. That's
exhausting, but in their case I usually spend more energy feeling negative
thoughts about their parents and all of the seeds of superiority and
expectations that they planted in their children's tiny little brains than
feeling like I don't want to have kids. My kids, of course, are going to be
perfect little angels. Except that I don't exactly believe that having
children is socially responsible. We have a lot of problems in the world
that are directly related to overpopulation, and as much as I want to
reproduce my lefty progressive politics in a mini-me style, the idea of
adding to the world's population makes me a little bit nervous. I just have
to decide if it makes me as nervous as a world full of righty conservative
mini-them's.
In other news, I came home tonight from a particularly bad day of: "I *hate*
chicken nuggets!" (he loves them) "I don't *want* spaghetti and meatballs!"
(he told me he wanted them) "Get me this," "I want that," etc, to a roommate
handing me the rest of her nachoes and a half-drunk bottle of wine. Life is
sometimes very, very good.

Time's Up

Six months ago today, I promised a friend that I would intentionally stay
single for six months. It was borne of the realization that I had been in
relationships pretty steadily for six years. She thought (and I agreed)
that I could use some time off to focus on something other than a
relationship. It's not that I have been all about girls, all the time, but
being with someone does take work, and it has been really helpful to focus
on school and all of the emotional baggage this semester has brought. Now
the period of intentional single-ness is over. I liked the period of time,
but now I feel weird that a date was put on it. I think I am supposed to
try now. As my friend says, "put [myself] out there." Seems like a lot of
pressure.
In that vein, CGF came over tonight to watch a show with some of my other
friends. I just have no idea about her. Luckily, she is leaving the
country for some two weeks, so I can ignore it for a while.
Finally, today was the Ostara ritual that I said I would bring water
representations for. I asked for suggestions or a little bit of guidance,
but the woman asking just said to bring whatever I think represents water.
So, I did. I spent $23, I bought a pretty bowl, and candles, and a cloth,
and shells...then I got there, and the altar was pretty much full. I tried
to ask where I could put stuff, or even show it to people, but all the one
woman will say is "put it whereever you feel like it should go..." There was
no room for the scarf, and I put the candles on the side that I thought
might be west (it was east) and I put the shells in the bowl. So not what I
was thinking, and not how I set it up at home. Anyhow, then they didn't
light the candles. I was a little bit upset. The ritual was weird
anyway--big, less spirit-y, more informal. I was just mad that I had asked
for direction, given none, and then there was no place for the stuff that I
spent a long time getting together. Oh well.

Listening

I love the sound of sugar being poured into coffee. It almost sounds like
walking on half crunchy-half powdery snow. The last bunch of mornings I
have either bought coffee or my roommates were making noise when I was
sugaring my coffee at home, so I missed the sound. It is one of my favorite
things about the morning.

Cringe!

A cringe moment. I went out for coffee tonight with my "circle supper"
group from church. In the group is the girl I like to call "church
girlfriend" (from now on CGF). She brought her sister, who is moving to New
York, out for coffee, and when we were done the three of us walked toward
our respective homes together. They left me at my door, and as we said our
goodbyes, CGF and I hugged. I then turned to CGF's sister, gushed about how
I couldn't wait for her to move to New York (we had spoken all of a couple
of words at coffee) and leaned in to hug her too. It was way, way too late
when I realized that she wasn't also leaning in, at which point I just said
"we're going to hug now." The funny thing is I am not even that much of a
touchy-feely person with people I don't know very well. My friends and I
are all very huggy, but it took me months before I hugged any of the church
people. Anyhow, awkward.
I also had an awful night babysitting, but I am reformed and am no longer a
complainer, so I am not going to mention how the mother totally undermined
me and disagreed with something I did (which was so right to do, by the
way). I am also not going to mention that I have to go to a day long tae
kwon do tournament with these boys on Saturday. All day long. On the first
official day of my spring break. Oh well, I need the money.

Jewish Soul

I have been thinking about my mild obsession with Judaism, particularly
Orthodox Judaism. I read Jewish blogs, I go to a Jewish school, I taught my
friend (who is Jewish) the story of Passover and some of the kosher laws,
nad I influenced the same friend to take on the title of "dowda" with her
nephew. I learned once at a conference that we all have a culture that we
are, and a culture that we covet. I can say with some certainty that I
covet the connectedness of the Jewish community, and the rituals that
promote the shared history. I think lately, though, I have begun to covet
the roadmap. As I am working on my own spirituality, my life blueprint is
constantly in flux (as is consistent with Unitarianism). I love where I am
at (sort of) and I love the process (sort of) but I can't say I don't look
on the lives of some of the Orthodox women that I know with a little bit of
envy. You know that there are these mitzvahs, and you have to do them to
fulfill your plan. You know that when you need to pray, there are these
psalms that you can say, and there are also things that you are obligated to
say. You know that on your holidays there are rituals that you must
complete. If you have questions about the interpretation of some things,
you ask your rabbi and follow the customs of your community. It takes away
a lot of the guesswork in life, and sometimes that is appealing.
On another note, I am trying to be less angry in life, and to stop
complaining so much. Today I had an experience with a classmate who I am
not particularly close with that was extremely frustrating. I felt myself
getting angry, but instead of leaving, feeling upset, and calling someone to
complain, I confronted her and told her what was frustrating. Not huge, but
a step.

Starting Anew

This is my new semi-secret blog. I'm going to skip the introduction part
and just post, because blogging is self-indulgent, and I already know me.
Actually, maybe it would be worthwhile, if only to remind myself later when
I can't remember my new blog name.
I chose cringe moments because I embarass myself a lot. I tend to have at
least one moment a week that I wake up during the night and cringe over,
wishing I could change how it happened. Can't promise my blog will be about
them, but I thought it was cute.
I have been having a difficult time recently with school, because this
semester we are dealing with death in a very real way and we have very
little support for any feelings we might be having. Today I went to visit a
hospice program run by my hospital's extended network. It was nothing short
of amazing. Such a different experience than the dark, silent hospital
rooms that everyone avoided until the very last day. In the program people
have access to clergy, various therapies (art, physical, etc), nursing,
volunteer companionship, home health aids, and hospice physicians. It
didn't change entirely my level of comfort surrounding end of life issues,
but it was good to see a leg of health care devoted to them.
I am right now trying to convince myself to meditate. I feel like I should,
I need the release, etc. But I also need to sleep. I had this amazing
meditation experience with a friend the other day. We meditated through
four songs of a cd, and each was very much its own experience. I brought
the light through my body, I formed an energy bubble around me, I created
sacred space in outer space. If I can commit to some kind of meditation
practice, I am hoping I can kick this angry streak to the curb and find
myself somewhere in there. I think I have convinced myself to meditate.
Good.