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Exit Strategy

2011-09-15T09:34:00.002-10:00

Grad school is always a busy time, but anyone who's ever been there can tell you some times get absolutely crazy. I just finished a big several-weeks-long push that culminated in a couple days where I was so exhausted I thought my body might give out. Mind you, I was sleeping. I always sleep. I don't do all-nighters unless absolutely necessary, and this push didn't ever come to that shove. But all of my waking hours were taken up by this sustained focus, as late into the evening as my brain would still work.

It's just this thing that happens sometimes in grad school. I've done it before, and I'm sure it'll happen again before I graduate in May. It's just this thing.

This week I dressed up. I thought, if I'm gonna feel bad, at least I'm gonna look good. And so I'd get that little smirk of guilty pleasure as men would stand aside to let me pass, hold doors, and smile at me like they had a chance. It's cheap, I know, but I was exhausted and I'm not above cheap pleasures from time to time.

Yesterday I kept dozing off during lunch at work.

At home, Michael and Gina have been taking care of me-- cooking and things. I was talking to Kiriko the other day (she's in a big push also with a grant she's working on) and we were lamenting how when you get so busy, you'll just grab any crap food that's available to shove into your face. You just don't have time to take care of the regular things, and it doesn't help at all because then you feel worse. She said, 'you can't monitor everything.' So when you get so crazy busy, things fall by the wayside. Like eating well.

After yet another meal prepared for me by the people I live with, Gina said that this was like Comps, and if she had realized it would be like that she would have made sure there was always food just laying out for me so I could wander out of my hole, bleary-computer-eyed, eat a food, and wander back in. She suggested we have a code phrase for these crazy weeks. We can say, "Guys, this is Comps," so that we all know to pick up the slack and take extra care of each other.

This morning I'm finished. Sometimes at the end of a big push, my stress melts away and leaves me with a migraine. It's not so bad this time, as migraines go. But also, sometimes at the end of a big push, I feel at loose ends, like I have to keep doing even though I'm done doing and I deserve a break anyway. But I wander around thinking, "I should do this. No, I should take a break. I should do this! No, I should take a break. Or I could do this!! No! Take a damn break!"

That's what this morning is like.

Gina's code phrase came back to me. 'This is Comps.' At the end of Comps, I knew I'd need an exit strategy, because I no longer remembered what it was like to not be doing Comps. And here, at the end of this big push, it feels strange to not be embroiled in a 14 hour work day. I don't remember how to not be doing that. I need an exit strategy, to transition me back down to my regular productivity levels.

I made a list of 12 things I need to accomplish in the next week. These are my normal weekly deadline things-- updating class slides, grading, researching for papers, etc., etc., etc.

Then I determined not to do any of those things today. Or at least not while I have a migraine. Or at least not this morning. (baby steps)

I covered the list up with a new list. Stuff that I kinda always wanna get done. Stuff I've been putting off for days or weeks or years because it doesn't really matter that much if or when it does get done. Things I wouldn't mind doing. Things I also wouldn't mind not doing.

This is my exit strategy: my anti-productivity productivity list. Today I am only allowed to do these things. Or I can do other things, but not things on my for-realz productivity list. I can only start on my for-realz productivity list when I can be sure I won't work on it for 14 hours straight. With the anti-productivity productivity list, I can ease myself out of the big push by checking things off a list while simultaneously not doing anything too consequential. It's like taking a break without taking a break. It's like not taking a break without not taking a break.

Yeah. Sometimes I feel like a ridiculous person.

Surgery and recovery

2011-09-03T07:50:00.000-10:00

So, it turns out that surgery hurts. I mean, it really, actually hurts. They cut open your body and stick in knives and cameras and things and they cut stuff out, and doing stuff like that is painful. I guess this shouldn't come as a surprise to me, but for some reason, it really kind of did. I'm sure in part it was my blase perception that I was only having the "small" surgery and not all the big ones and so that was no big deal. Looking back, I'm okay with that. I don't think it would have mattered if I were "more prepared" for the amount of pain; I don't think I would have been able to go into surgery so unafraid.

I don't remember the anesthesia. I remember being wheeled into the OR, and trying to suppress these hysterical giggles that were welling up in me. It seemed ridiculous that I'd be in this TV show sort of room. Bizarre. Surreal. Silly. I positioned onto the bed/table, and then... that's all. I don't even remember the anesthesiologist coming across the room to me, though I have to assume at some point he did.

The post-op room is what stands out the most to me. I don't remember the doctor or nurse or whoever she was telling me that I may not be able to form memories yet. But I do remember thinking (perhaps responding to her?) that as a psychologist who has read a bit on brain damage and short term memory loss and things like that, it was absolutely fascinating to consider that what I'm thinking and doing right now I might not remember later. I do remember I said to her that she "was very nice, in case I forgot later." I remember she was pleased by that. I don't remember her telling me I still have both my ovaries, but that information penetrated enough that the next time I asked her about the surgery, I didn't ask after my ovaries, I asked after what they had removed--tumor? cysts? She reminded me I had asked about my ovaries and was I curious about that? I couldn't remember asking after my ovaries or her response, but I did remember that I had both of them.

In the end, they removed the mass and I think a cyst, and they found some endometriosis that they scraped off, and apparently after my ruptured cyst some months back, scar tissue had formed and fused some things together that were meant to be separated, so they removed that scar tissue too. The doctor said I'd be up and about in a week. This made me think that I'd be more or less back to normal after a week, but that is not the case at all. As per earlier, surgery hurts a lot.

Michael has been incredible. I've told people already that he deserves a medal, and he really, really does. He stayed with me for almost a week, he lifted me in and out of bed, he brought me everything I needed. He sat with me the first night when the pain was making me too nauseated to take more pain medication and I lay on the bathroom floor for what could have been hours in the middle of the night trying to settle my stomach enough to take and keep another percoset. He hovered over me and fed me gatorade through a straw and petted my head and eventually helped me back into bed. And after I went back to classes in the summer, he carried my bag to and from school every day, dropping me off at 8:00am and picking me up at 5:00pm, on foot, because I couldn't carry things so well. Deserves a medal.

I wanted so badly to get back to work, so the next Thursday after my Friday surgery, I did. And I'm kinda glad I did, but it was too much. I stayed home again the next day. But the following Monday, I went back to class. I figured it would be just fine by this point, sitting in class all day and learning things. Some days it was, some days it wiped me the hell out. Every day when I get home I go back to bed, where I have my laptop set up for homework and Buffy the Vampire Slayer videos. The best part of going back to class (other than that I'll be finishing up 9 credits in three weeks) is that in my first class, a woman I know was there too. She just had a hysterectomy. So we were surgery buddies in class. I felt much better about my recovery, being able to compare with her our experiences, getting to see how much worse "the big surgery" would have been if my BRCA1 results had been different. Also, she's not American, which means she is much stronger than me. She accepted the huge amounts of pain with power and stoicism whereas I'd been whining at every turn. It's always good to get an example of a better way to deal with the situation.

I measured my recovering by the things I could do. "I can open a jar now." Did you realize you use your stomach muscles to do that? I didn't, until I didn't have control over them. "I can take a full length step now." Did you realize you need your stomach muscles to support your leg stepping so far away from your center? I would plateau for days and feel grumpy that I wasn't better, then suddenly one day I'd be so much better than the day before. In my second summer class we had field trips and one of them required so much walking up and down hills and stairs that it set my recovery back almost a week. That morning I could take full steps. I had planned on walking *all the way home from school.* Instead, for the next five days I was shuffling again. Ugh, that was the worst.

After classes I went back to work, and after going back to work I started walking up stairs, and after walking up stairs I started riding my bike, and after riding my bike I started lifting weights, and after lifting weights, I tried to SCUBA dive, but that didn't go so well because it turns out I'm afraid of strapping on a bunch of heavy equipment and going under water. But I was physically capable, at least! A few days later I rode a horse, so there. See? I can do things.

One thing I still struggle with is wearing pants that fit. My scar tissue is all healed, but it's still sensitive when it has something pressing on it all day long. I've been wearing my loose, comfy pants for months now. I'm only now starting to ease back into wearing pants that fit. Getting there.

The biggest step to me, honestly, was when I started spending the *whole day* out of bed. Even a month (two months?) after surgery, I would go to work, come home and climb into bed. I had my laptop set up there. See, I have this stand-up desk at home, and I didn't have the energy to use it. I have a chair, I mean, I *can* sit down at my desk. But I was just so exhausted for so long. After go out and doing things, I'd just want to climb into a soft comfy space and rest.

It was probably for the best that I wasn't able to get to Tuvalu this summer. Especially since my second class turned out to be so physically demanding, I don't think I was at a good recovery point to be trying to travel internationally, walking all over an island near the equator in August conducting research. Oh, but it would have been awesome. I miss Tuvalu so much sometimes. But for the sake of my body healing, I'm sure it's way better to go in December.

But I'm all better now. Stand up desk, bike riding, weight lifting, working all day, getting stuff done, carrying my things to school, teaching two classes, taking one class, getting ready for job applications for next year, crazy excited about doing my dissertation and getting my PhD... all the things normal people do.

This I Believe.

2011-06-21T15:35:00.006-10:00

I have a fear of flying.

I can't tell you exactly where it came from. In my first memory of flying I was able to stand comfortably in front of the seat and my mom was still taller than me even though she was sitting down. I remember being most upset about the fact that my brother wouldn't let me look out the window, which was Not Fair. Sometime between that episode and the few flights I took as a teenager, and then the more flights I took as an adult, fear set in.

What used to happen was that if I had to take multiple flights in a short period of time (say, a year), by the time I got to the third or so flight it was old hat and my fear of flying had melted away. This changed just last fall when I went to Portland. On the way back we hit some mad turbulence. At one point the plane was in a freefall for probably two or three seconds. It felt much longer, of course. But it was definitely long enough for full screams to have been uttered throughout the plan before we "landed" back on normal air. The two guys next to me were military men; they started whooping it up like we were on a rollercoaster, toasting the plane with their drinks as they laughed. Then the guy next to me looked at me, sobered up, and said, "Ma'am, are you all right?" I said I was but I wasn't. I was in a dead panic. It didn't go away and even numerous flights later, it still didn't go away.

What happens now is that weeks before my flight takes off I have a gnawing anxiety eating at me every day while I imagine the fear that I'll feel, the panicked state I'll be in, when that turbulence hits. Even if it's not bad, it'll still scare the bejeezus out of me. And I know this. And I anticipate this. So I have anxiety for weeks leading up to the flight and anxiety all through the flight and blind panic when there's turbulence.

I meditate. I pray. I make myself right with world. I weigh my past actions against my future plans and decide whether I'm okay with the concept of dying today. I take deep breaths. I tell myself everything will be just fine. These things help sometimes.

I flew to Chicago last week. At some point in the midst of my pre-flight-weeks-of-anxiety it occurred to me to wonder where all this fear came from. Where all this anxiety came from. I used to be a super-relaxed person. Go with the flow, calm in the face of adversity, come what may sort of individual. Where did that go and why was it replaced with this? Not just the fear of flying, but all the anxiety I ever get.

Mind you, this was a passing thought while I walked to work. I got as far as this before my thoughts turned elsewhere: When I was younger, part of my relaxed state was my acceptance that I had no power in my life. When I grew older and developed power over my life, I hit the opposite extreme in which I have near-constant anxiety in my drive to have say over the things that affect me. I went to the other end of the pendulum.

On the way to Chicago, it was an overnight flight. I took a sleeping pill. I took some Jack Daniels. I took some light reading. I took my husband's hand when the flight got bumpy. I made it through just fine.

Chicago was awesome.

On the flight back, during the day, we were trapped in two cramped seats behind two seats that couldn't go back in the upright position. The man in front of me was very large and so whenever he moved, his seat moved from approximately 16 inches in front of my face to approximately 10 inches in front of my face (slight exaggeration). I prayed and meditated and read my light reading. When the turbulence hit, it wasn't too bad. But then the guy ahead of me moved and the seat hit my knee and it startled me and in that moment of startle the turbulence got much worse. It still wasn't bad, but with the startle I was primed, and so flew into a full-fledged panic, whispering frantically "it'sokayit'sokayit'sokayit'sokay." Michael jumped into action, holding my hand, kissing my face, soothing me and calming me.

It was not okay at all.

After calming down a bit, I decided I'd had enough of this. It was time to get to the bottom of it all. Time to make this fear Go Away. So I went into a purposeful meditation. I don't know if there's a name for this state, but I'm calling it that. Meditative state-- calm, inward-- but with purpose. My point to begin with was to define for myself what it is I believe in, especially figuring out this whole Fate/Chance thing.

Here's what I came up with:

I believe that everything that happens in this universe happens in reaction to something else. Many other things. I believe that, in this way, someone much smarter than me could figure out everything that ever has, ever could, or ever will happen. But it would pretty much take an omniscient being to do this. People? No way. It's way bigger than us. So much bigger than us that the pieces of happenings that we see look to us like Chance only.

I believe that Chance is the sum total of the happenings of the universe-- occurring in a pattern, maybe along some plan, but way too big for us to see. Chance is the stuff in this universal web that we don't get to understand with our puny human brains/perspectives.

I believe that Fate is when Chance happens at a small enough scale for us to glimpse some of the pattern. It's small enough for us people to look over a line of events and see how point A got to point B and what that means for us. Fate is the human-understanding-sized pieces of Chance. Chance and Fate are exactly the same thing. Sometimes the pattern moves on our behalf. Sometimes it moves actively against our behalves. Sometimes (most times) it has absolutely nothing to do with us as individuals or us as species. But when we see it, when we understand it, then we know Fate.

I believe that people have power within Fate/Chance. True, the choices we make are never without cause. Everything we do is in reaction to other things that have been done, in the way our emotions compel us, in the way that our brains justify us, in the way that our autonomic systems evolved to conduct us. Our power is one small piece of Fate/Chance. Our actions, the oceans' currents, the life cycle of a flower, the creation and destruction of stars, the submolecular movement of atoms-- it all works within this pattern. Our words and deeds and actions have power to affect the small scales, the human scales, of Fate/Chance. We can help or harm others. We can help or harm life. We can affect things. And if our choices are part of the huge pattern, well, the pattern is still too large for us to divine. This is Free Will.

Right around this revelation, I remembered my earlier thought that my fear comes from my lifetime pendulum swing of powerlessness to power.

When I was young, I had no power. When life hurt me it was due to Chance (those things that have nothing to do with me but happen to me regardless) or to human power (those people who hurt me with the power they held over me).

When I grew, I developed my own power, and I used it to improve my life. Growing up was a heady thing for me. I became powerful. I could prevent bad things from happening. I could make good things happen. I could leave bad people behind. I could do things.

So assuming that I took this power and used it as often and as much as I could, one could see how I might become something of a tenacious, list-making, type A control freak. An effective one, I might add. I really like getting things done.

And assuming that I realized that growing up was heady and that I enjoyed this power, one could see how I might be just fine with that.

But assuming that I never actually took the time to consciously think about this gained power beyond "I like it", one could see how I might implicitly conflate power with control.

And here's what I believe: I believe that we as individuals, as groups, as a species, have the power to affect ourselves, each other, the world, and Fate/Chance. We have the power to affect these things. We are not in control of these things.

In all of my time as a powerful woman adult, I have never once been in control of anything. I just never realized it. Without considering what these things meant, I operated as though having power to affect my life was the same as being able to control it. And so when placed in situations in which I have no control (realize I have no control), such as flying in planes that hit bad turbulence, I feel powerless. I feel negated.

Only, I never had control. I could get hit by a bus. My job or my school could be entirely defunded no matter how well I do. A meteor could strike Earth; Yosemite could erupt; my plane could crash. I can't even control my body. I can walk where I want to go, but I get injured and then I can't just walk. I can eat well and exercise, but I can still develop a tumor. I might have had a cancer-causing genetic condition. I can't control these things. I have never been in control.

On the plane from Chicago, in my fear and my purposeful meditation, I thought to myself,

"I will not lose my power if I let go of my illusions. I will not lose my power if I let go of my illusions."

Many times. A mantra. Until it calmed me. Until I believed it. Then I told myself what my illusions were.

"Power is not control. I have power. I have no control. I will not lose my power if I let go of my illusions."

I thought about the things I "have" to do-- job and school and caring for others and making the world a better place.

"I have power. I have responsibilities. But I do not have control. I will not lose my power if I let go of my illusions."

Another mantra. And again I repeated it over and over, trying to settle my fear. I don't have power over the plane, over the flight, over the air, over the pilot, over a lack of meteorites falling from the sky and slicing through the engines. But I am not powerless from this lack of control. Because while I had power on the ground, in my daily life, I never had control. Control was only an illusion. Feeling out-of-control on the plane was only an illusion. Because I had never had control.

And then my heart leapt. And I understood where I was going in this purposeful meditation.

"I have power. But I do not have control. And for this I am free."

Realizing I am not in control means that I can stop being scared about not being in control. Realizing that I have power means that I can stop being scared, because I always have this power. Sometimes I am better able to use it, but it never leaves me.

I wrote in my notebook, "I've come a long way in three hours."

The last six hours of the flight were much easier. Even the turbulence. Even the landing.

My next step will be to internalize these revelations. I've had years and years of internalizing a fear of losing control. Now it's time to internalize the disconnect between power and control.

***

My surgery is on Friday. After completing paperwork and getting preparation instructions yesterday, I was kind of bummed and somber with the idea of surgery. But this morning I was happy again, because hey. I get to keep my boobs. This surgery is the good outcome and it'll all be over soon. This is another exercise in my lack of control. But I have power. I have the power of blind optimism and denial if I want it, and happiness as I look forward to the things that come next. This is going to be a great summer after all.

And it's good news!

2011-06-04T08:48:00.002-10:00

I'm negative for the BRCA1 mutation!

I simply cannot describe the giddy relief that I am feeling at this news. I honestly didn't expect it. It seemed too much of a coincidence. Eff yeah for coincidences!!!

Michael helped me stay calm up until the appointment when we found out. All day Thursday he emailed me pictures of cute animals, forcing in little pockets of happiness into my day. On Friday morning I went to volunteer at the Humane Society and he came with me, helped me clean out the bunny and guinea pig cages, helped me pet small furry animals and take care of puppies. It was storming, thunder and lightning, and sometimes the puppies around us would freak out a bit so we'd go and reassure them. Animals are good for the soul. They made the morning pass easily.

When we walked into the genetics counselor's office, she said, "Well, I have some good news for you." And I thought, "Good news about what?" because it didn't seem possible that good news could be related to this. But it was good news related to this.

As we left, I admitted to Michael that I hadn't expected this outcome, that I thought it would be too much of a coincidence. He admitted that he had thought the same thing. We hadn't told each other, because sometimes you just have to pretend there's hope, even when there's not.

Crazy happy joy.

It was amazing when I got home. Life had opened up before me. The paralysis left me immediately. I thought, 'I need to make plans. I need to make lists. So much to do!'

I keep a note pad on my desk, and every day I write in 3 to 4 things to accomplish today. Sometimes I write in more longterm tasks. But I always have a list of things to do. Six weeks ago, the lists stopped. I still did things, sometimes, but mostly I did nothing because there was no way to know what to plan for. I was stunted.

Within hours of getting home, the list was back. Tasks. Plans. Goals. Things to do. Today. Next week. This summer. This year. I took a moment to think to myself (this time my thoughts were spoken in Gina's voice), "Kati, only you would celebrate this by working on grad school things." But it was wonderful. I had a sense of purpose again. I thought, "I'm back."

In the afterglow of this huge relief, I feel something like gratitude. Something like gratitude squared. Something like an all-encompassing thankfulness for my life and everything about it. Because these are some things I learned this month:

* I have an amazing support network in my life. Seriously, so many people stepped up to the plate, including people I would never have expected to feel responsible for stepping up. People really took care of my spiritual and emotional needs through this. I was on probably two dozen prayer lists, not to mention people praying singly. People did nice things for me, said kind words to me, listened to me fret and cried with me and drank with me and distracted me and really, really took care of me. My friends and family are amazing. I get why people send casseroles and flowers and cards that say Thinking Of You. This is why.

* I have the best husband in the world. Which I already knew. But he has been here with me, for me, daily, constantly, throughout this. I couldn't have asked for more. As always, Michael has taken care of me. We got through this together. Once again, the importance of Being There.

* I needed a break from school. Taking a few weeks off from doing things, especially while under the belief that it was the first few weeks of a year off that I didn't want, was exactly what I needed. And I never would have taken a break except for this. But now I have a reprieve from a forced hiatus. Now I get to come back, just like I wanted to come back. I felt burnt out a lot this past semester. This past year. But now I am ready to go. I will do all the things. And I will graduate next year. And it will be amazing.

* And finally, work hard. But play hard. Being with people is very important. Getting my stuff done is also important. Both of these things are important. I'm gonna do these things.

I know in the future, and possibly soon, the stress and the daily tediums and worries and problems will take back over. But for now, I have such gratitude. Right now, I feel full of life. And if there is anything I've learned this past month, it's to take what you got and run with it. Because you just don't know what tomorrow holds.

Is that trite? Who cares. :D

Waiting Game, cont'd.

2011-06-02T16:42:00.004-10:00

I find out tomorrow.

Seven days ago I was told I'd know in 7-14 days. Yesterday I was told Friday. On Friday it will be certain. The waiting will be over. I'll know.

Yesterday morning, when I found out it would be Friday, I thought to myself, "Now how am I supposed to make it through two more days?" It was like the waiting game I've been playing this past month was ratcheted up a notch. Waiting squared. I was at work. I thought, "I can't possibly think. I can't possibly do my daily life." All I could think about was getting the answers, about getting the surgeries, about the 'what ifs'.

I didn't sleep too well last night. I was sleeping fine until three days ago. Then I started taking valerian root or kava to help cool my anxieties. Last night I stayed up late watching silly movies. I decided, at this point, I just need to make the hours pass.

Yesterday morning, after I found out it would be Friday and I thought to myself "Now how am I suppose to make it through two more days," I emailed Michael and told him we're going out to eat. And he said that's just fine. An hour later, my friend Lauren was in my office, returning my hats I'd left in her car. She gave me a card to read later and we talked about social justice and history and white privilege and Civil Rights and the American military presence in the Marshall Islands. It was great and it helped me feel normal. It helped the time pass with my mind on other things.

After she left I opened the card. Lauren, Rachel, Gina, Katie, Sherri, and Charlene chipped in to buy Michael and me a night out... gift certificate to a really awesome nice restaurant called Town. They serve locally grown foods, really nice place. Amazingly tasty. Plus they bought me a massage. The card said they wanted to do something to show they were there for us, thought we might like some distraction, thought we could use a night out. I sat in my office and cried, in a good way. I've got great friends.

I told Michael, "We're going to Town." He said that was just fine.

We went to Town. Went all out, splurged on really nice dishes, got a rum drink with ginger. We took the bus there, but walked home with dusk setting and colors shot across the sky.

This morning I was almost frantic. 28 more hours, I told myself. 27 more hours. Then I stopped counting and sometime around 24 hours to go I suddenly switched from waiting, waiting, waiting, to ohgodnowI'mgoingtoknow. Because right now there is still some hope that there will be one surgery, and then it'll all be done. But in... 19 hours... In 19 hours I'll know. And there's no going back after that. And everything might change tomorrow.

I can't help but have hope. We've discussed this already, this giddy hope that it'll "only" be surgery to remove a tumor. Because maybe it's only that. Right now, it's 50% only that.

But right now it's 50% bad news also. It's 50% genetic mutation. It's 50% surgeries and possible cancer in my future. Probable cancer without the surgeries.

Right now it's a coin toss. Right now I don't know. But tomorrow...

(Between you and me, I think it would be too much of a coincidence that, given my family's history, that I would have developed a tumor without the gene. Between you and me, those odds seem a bit too high to be realistic. But don't tell me that, because I've still got hope. I'm still hoping for the good outcome. I still got a 50% shot at coincidence.)

Today I solicited concrete tasks for work. I asked my boss, Can I draft the invitation letter? I asked the project manager to let me run the errands. Anything at all-- do you need coffee? My general task at work is to find information that affects the project, and I just couldn't... learn things today. I'd read a paragraph four times before I realized I still didn't know what it said. But concrete tasks. I rocked the concrete tasks. Great draft letter. Errands all completed.

It was threatening to rain when I got home this afternoon so I chose to watch movies over another long bike ride. Just need to make the hours pass now. This is what gets me through today-- distraction, denial, sunny disposition. I smile at everyone. I tell strangers to have a great day.

I watch movies and I make the time pass.

I'll know tomorrow.

Shifting perceptions

2011-05-29T19:25:00.003-10:00

Upon reading my short essay on paralysis (see below), my roommate Gina was clever enough to remind me that this time last year I was reeling after Comps, and completely unable to get anything done. Part of this paralysis is the lack of external deadlines.

Given my state of mind, and the lack of external deadlines, I’ve decided to embrace summer for once. This maybe hasn’t involved all the partying and beach-going that one might think “embracing summer in Hawai`i” might involve, but for me, the workaholic grad student, it’s been pretty awesome. There have been long bike rides, and roller derby, and Doctor Who, and beer, and tomorrow there will be beach and barbecue.

The news as of now is that I’m definitely going into surgery. This week I’ll be meeting with my boss about medical leave, and I’ll be calling my oncologist. We will “tentatively” schedule surgery. It’s tentative because we will set a date, but we won’t know which surgery I’ll be getting.

We won’t know which surgery I’ll be getting. Sometimes I say that and I’m calm. Sometimes I say that and it’s ridiculously funny. Sometimes I say that and it scares me shitless. How can I be three weeks from surgery and not know which surgery it is? How can this be reality?

The other calm/funny/scary thing is how my perception of life has shifted. I hadn’t even realized it happening. Didn’t even notice it once it was done. But it changed; somewhere along the line my hierarchy of values and ideas of order shifted to something bizarre. I only realized it the other day while talking (commiserating) with my friend Katie. She said ‘One day you’re annoyed they got your coffee order wrong and the next day a doctor is telling you your life will never ever be the same.’ It was during that conversation, sometime around that sentence that it occurred to me how strange it is that I’m really, really hoping for surgery to remove a tumor and possibly one ovary. That’s the good outcome. This did not use to be my definition of ‘good outcome.’ Life has changed.

Even recognizing the strangeness of that being the good outcome, I’m still really, really hoping for it. It still fills me with a sense of almost giddy relief that maybe, just maybe, it’ll turn out that that’s it. That’s all. Nothing more. Just that one, little, insignificant, finite, tiny little thing. Remove a tumor. No biggie. I was even starting to think on that outcome as almost kind of embarrassing, like I’d have to apologize to my family and friends for worrying them so much for such a stupid little thing. “Sorry everyone! False alarm! Only need to have a tumor removed. Just… forget everything we were worrying about. It’s all okay.”

Realizing that my definition of ‘good outcome’ changed means that I realized that the good outcome is still a legitimate cause for worry. But I can’t bring myself to worry about it. I only feel a giddy hope that maybe that’s all. God, it would be like heaven.

The bad outcome is the other possible surgery. Shoots, what is it called? I’m only just now learning this word—oophorectomy. Both ovaries removed. Plus hysterectomy. Uterus too. That’s a pretty serious damn surgery. And it would be followed over time by prophylactic mastectomy. Which in turn would be followed by reconstructive surgeries. Saying for the sake of optimism that I get through these surgeries before getting cancer, these surgeries would reduce a super-high risk of cancer to near zero.

I was beginning to wonder if I was making the right decision by considering all these surgeries to avoid cancer. Should I keep my body whole and hope for the best, not cut unless/until I get cancer?

But jeez, first of all, I really don’t want cancer. So think of the options—definite surgery alone versus possible cancer plus surgery together? One of these is way worse than the other.

Second, I was talking to another friend about her experience with breast cancer and she told me, “We do what we have to do to stay alive.” She said with every decision she made, every step she took, everything always was based on the criteria What Will Keep Me Alive. She said splayed out during radiation treatment she thought to herself, ‘This is the most life-affirming experience I’ve ever had,’ because radiation is scary as hell but she walked in strong because that’s what it takes. She chose life, everything else was just follow-through.

I may change my mind. I can’t speak for future versions of myself who will have had different experiences and will be better informed. But right now I can tell you that though it seems ridiculous to schedule surgery not knowing what it will be, and though it’s scary as hell to contemplate a year of surgeries in my future, I’m walking into this at least sometimes calm. Because this is my life now, these are my choices. I have no say over whether I get the good or the bad outcome. And maybe it’ll turn out to be the nothing-false-alarm-tumor-removing good outcome. But come what may, I’ll do what it takes. I choose life.

Re: Paralysis

2011-05-21T08:29:00.006-10:00

I feel paralyzed.

That’s what this is like: mental paralysis, life paralysis. I can’t do anything. I can’t plan anything. I can’t make decisions. I am paralyzed.

But this is only a metaphor. I feel pretty confident that actual paralysis would be worse.

Still. This sucks.

Today is Friday, the 20^th of May, 2011. Some people are apparently of the belief that they’ll be raptured tomorrow. They’ve maxed out their credit cards; they’ve made no plans for Sunday tea. This seems relevant to me.

I’m a graduate student. I’m a daughter, sister, wife, birthmother, friend. I’m a genius, a type-A personality, a control freak, a tenacious go-getter. I’m the one with all the plans. I’m the one who follows up my plans with action steps and persistence and good fortune and hard work. I do things. It’s who I am.

Except now I can’t bring myself to do anything.

It’s taken me ten days to make a paragraph’s worth of edits to a 6-page document. What the hell is wrong with me? Two months ago I’d have knocked that out in half an hour. But now I have this metaphor, this paralysis.

I’m stuck. Waiting.

In my normal life, I’m a graduate student who studies social and environmental justice issues related to climate change. Specifically, with my dissertation research, I study the impacts of climate change on the culture of the indigenous population in Tuvalu. It’s a small country in the South Pacific, one of the friendliest and most beautiful places on Earth, and if we don’t stop the sea level from rising over the next century, it’s not going to exist any longer. At least, it won’t be habitable.

A lot of research literature and news media makes it sound as though Tuvalu is a lost cause. Same with the Maldives. Same with a handful of other low-lying countries. This is not true. We can still save these countries. We can still save our species.

I was fortunate enough to get a job in my field while I finish up my degree. I’m a project assistant with an organization that seeks to bridge the gap between scientific research about climate change and regional planning. How do we make these huge reports and models relevant to the people who make daily decisions in a region, state, city, neighborhood? What is useful to them and how can we make sure they have it? That’s my job. I love my job.

I love my school too. I love my research. I love Tuvalu. I love my family. I love my friends. I love my life. I’ve got a great life.

I’m not dying.

I decided that already. No matter what comes, no matter what all the tests say, I’m not going to die. Not from this. And for that matter, the planes I’m in won’t crash and the boats I’m in won’t sink.

Car crash, maybe. That seems like a pretty commonish thing.

But not from this.

It’s May 20^th, and I found out fifteen days ago that I have a solid mass on my left ovary. The good news is that the cancer blood test came back ‘normal.’ The bad news is that that apparently only means ‘probably’ not cancer. Still could be. But it could also be a blood clot that’ll clear and no harm done.

I’d feel a lot better if it were only that.

But also, I have a 50% chance of having a genetic mutation that has killed a lot of women in my family through breast and ovarian cancer. I should find out by June 3^rd. If I have it, a lot of things will change. A lot of my plans will be rewritten.

It’s May 20^th. Fourteen more days to go.

In the ‘everything goes well’ scenario, one of two things might happen:

1) I’ll go to Chicago next month. I’ll finish most of my classes this summer. I’ll begin my field research this summer. I’ll finish my classes this fall. I’ll go back to Tuvalu in December, then again next spring break. I’ll have all my data together, write it all up, graduate May 2012. Not bad at all.

2) I’ll go to Chicago next month. I’ll conduct workshops with my job this summer. I’ll begin my field research this summer. I’ll finish my classes in the Fall and Spring semesters. I’ll go back to Tuvalu in December, then again during spring break. With all my data together, I’ll write up my dissertation in the Summer and Fall of next year and graduate December 2012. Also not bad at all.

These are two very good options. I like both of them quite a lot.

Because I’m paralyzed, I haven’t told everyone that I’m going to Chicago next month. People I’ve been dying to see again for years—the teens I worked with who are now all grown, my coworkers at the food pantry, all sorts of people whom I’ve missed desperately for four years—I can’t tell them that I’m coming back to Chicago. That I’ll see them soon.

I’ve bought my tickets.

I’ve arranged housing.

I’ve paid the conference fees.

But I’m too scared to tell them I’m coming. Because what if the next test comes back and it’s not in the ‘normal’ range? What if I don’t make it to Chicago? Then I’ll have to tell them I can’t make it after all. And also I have cancer. Or, and also I’ll be in surgery.

I’m really bad at telling people bad news about myself. I’m really bad at telling people when I’m scared.

I have a lot of supports. My friends and family have been very good, listening to me, checking up on me to see how I’m doing, what the latest word is, telling me they’re praying for/thinking of me.

Michael’s been great. He’s been close. Affectionate. Supportive. He’s really great.

In the ‘everything goes tits-up’ scenario, any number of things might happen. Here are two examples:

1) I have the gene and so I have to have my ovaries removed because having already developed a tumor is never a good sign in the likeliness-to-develop-cancer spectrum. And because I’ll go into menopause I’ll have to take hormones, which increases my risk for breast and uterine cancer. So I may have a hysterectomy too. And with the gene my risk for breast cancer is already so high that a few more percents is really basically all the percents I’ve got left, so I’ll go ahead and have a prophylactic mastectomy. And then reconstructive surgeries. I’ll need to take time off of school to get through all this. Hopefully I’ll still be able to continue working in between all the surgeries. Graduation will be in Spring 20?? because the important thing will be to focus on my health.

2) I have the gene and so I get a mammogram to make sure before I have my ovaries removed and that doesn’t go so well. Turns out I need to have my breasts out immediately. Same surgeries as before, but different order. Also there could be chemo. It’ll make me throw up a lot.

I don’t really like any of the options down that road. All of them hurt. All of them involve surgery. Some of them may involve cancer. Then I’d get to have chemo and surgery.

The paralysis isn’t just from the uncertainty. There is that, of course. The ‘what if I make plans to do this but then I can’t’ bit. But I’m a planner. I have a million contingencies always set up and waiting. So it’s not just that.

Part of it is anxiety. I’ve found over the past few weeks that anxiety, in some ways, works like depression. Some days I just can’t bring myself to do anything. I’m so tired, bone tired, weary traveler, worn soul. Some days it feels like I would watch TV and drink beer all day long if there weren’t some part of me reminding myself, ‘you know, you’re not really that type of person.’ And I have to remind myself of that because some days I really feel like that type of person. But other days I’m fine—go to work, super productive, mostly cheerful even with all that background anxiety nipping at me.

Part of it is that fine line between optimism and realism, statistical chances and hope. If I plan only around the good scenarios am I just fooling myself? Will I fall that much harder because I wasn’t ready? If I plan only around the bad scenarios am I just harming myself? Am I drowning myself in 50% unfounded anxieties? 'What I should do now' and 'what comes later' starts to get murky.

Part of it is just distraction. I can’t keep focused enough to figure out what to do next, much less to go ahead and do it.

It bleeds into other things, other things that don’t involve planning out the next year, other things that don’t matter at all.

Clean the bathroom. Read this email. Respond to this email. Make dinner. Practice guitar or violin. Practice Tuvaluan. Go on a walk. Go on a bike ride. Paralyzed and I can’t do any of it. Respond to an email? Insurmountable.

I want to finish this chapter in the novel I’m writing. I could do it in two hours. I just need to sit down and do it. Six days I’ve been telling myself that. I have the time now that the semester is over. Just sit down and do it.

Instead I watch TV. It’s easier and it takes my mind away from all of this.

I remind myself to do things that make me happy. I go out with friends and I go on bike rides.

It doesn’t always work. Sometimes I’m anxious the whole time anyway. Sometimes I can’t bring myself to go.

But my friends listen. They call and ask how I am, if there’s any news.

It’s funny, because I’m actually more worried about losing my breasts than my ovaries. Even with this unsettling idea of going into menopause at age 32. Even still. I have a direct, personal, lifelong relationship with my breasts. I like them. They’ve been good to me.

My ovaries and I have a more turbulent past. I mean, puberty? What the hell was that all about? But afterwards I got to be a woman, and that’s really cool. I really like being a woman. Can’t much imagine the alternative. Then there were those pregnancy scares. Not so great, except that one of them made Ian and there is nothing more amazing in this world than that kid. God, him and his parents who adopted him, they’re just wonderful beyond wonderful.

But if I only had to remove one and I’d not get cancer, I’d choose my ovaries, hands down. The problem is that the chance for breast cancer is waaaaay higher. In fact, if it weren’t for these problems I’m already having with my ovaries, I probably wouldn’t consider having them removed just yet. Wait a few more years, to a slightly more menopause-appropriate age.

I wouldn’t ever consider having my breasts removed if the chance for cancer wasn’t so high.

I have a 50% chance of having this gene. I have a 50% chance that at most I’ll just have to have this tumor removed and nothing else. I have a 50% chance of having the same chances for cancer as every other woman on this planet. I have a 50% chance that everything will be pretty much okay.

I wish I wasn’t so paralyzed. I wish I could just keep doing my normal life.

xxx

The New Year

2011-01-01T16:14:00.000-10:00

I could look up my resolutions for 2010. It was a plan, really. Ten things for 2010 that I wanted to accomplish. That I set out to do. If I remember correctly, the last item on the list was to lose the list. That’s usually my last item, so I don’t have to feel bad about failing to accomplish all the things on the list that I failed to accomplish. But I published this list on my blog, so anyone who’s interested in checking out what I haven’t done is free to go and do so. I can give you a more-or-less hot skinny here.

What I didn’t do:

I never did hot yoga with Leslie. I exercised a lot this year, though not so much in the last months. I stretched and went to a chiropractor and stopped getting daily headaches and I had my first Swedish massage and it was wonderful. But I never did hot yoga. But, one of the major reasons for that goal was to spend more time with Leslie, and we did go to a heaping bunch of farmers’ markets at Kapiolani Community College. So I did that.

I didn’t publish two peer-reviewed papers. Though maybe it counts anyway. I’ve submitted one for publication, and there was this other one that was accepted at a conference that possibly publishes a journal thingy. I’m not real clear on this one. I’m also not too worried about it. Working on another paper for submission in the coming weeks, so there’s stuff ongoing.

I didn’t go hiking every month. I have regretted this every month. I went on a hike one year ago today. And not again. I went on a lot of walks. But I never again ventured into wild nature. I’m gonna go ahead and put that into my plan again for this year, because I’d sure like to do that.

I didn’t write a book. But I did write about six chapters of a book (one of which was cut), including a pretty long stint of writing a page every day. I worked on the same book all year long. I’m gonna put this into my plan again as well.

What I did do:

I read 50 articles/chapters a week for four months straight.

I finished my major Comprehensive exams.

I finished my minor Comprehensive papers.

I wrote a small grant to take me to Tuvalu to write my dissertation proposal on site, successfully.

I went to Tuvalu and wrote my dissertation proposal on site.

I went to Tuvalu and found more family members I never knew I’d have.

I drove around Fiji one day.

I defended my proposal.

I applied for a grant and a fellowship to cover my extremely high dissertation expenses.

I got a new job at an international research institution working on climate change.

I went to the International Community Psychology conference in Puebla, Mexico.

I went to the Northwestern ECO Conference in Portland, Oregon.

I went to the Pacific Rim Conference on Disabilities in Honolulu, Hawai`i.

I presented at all of those.

I went to the Honolulu Psychological Association conference in Honolulu, Hawai`i.

I didn’t present there, but I did sing some songs.

I went to my friends’ wedding and sang the song I wrote for them.

I missed my other friends’ wedding, but I’m very happy they are so happy together.

I went to my uncle’s archbishopification in Seattle, Washington.

I saw my friend say mass and I cried at the beauty of it.

While, clearly as mentioned above, I did not accomplish everything I set out to accomplish, I feel like I have. I applied myself with tenacity, baseless optimism, and unreasonable scheduling. I spent most of the Spring semester thinking it was impossible to complete my Comps by early May. But I did. I went to Tuvalu thinking it was impossible to meet with everyone I’d like to meet with and develop a proposal in two weeks. But I did. I spent most of the Fall semester thinking it was impossible to complete my minor Comps, my coursework, my new job demands, my fellowship and grant applications, and defend my dissertation proposal by early December. But I did.

To be perfectly honest, even though there are plenty of things that I didn’t do last year, I’m feeling pretty full of myself and my ability to get things done. I’m looking forward into my academic and research goals for the next year, and feeling pretty confident that barring major problems (which unfortunately seem to be par for the course with dissertation research), I can actually do this on my timeline. And then I’ll go out and get hired somewhere and my career will be off and I’ll be able to do all the good in the world that I came here to learn how to do. I’m always waiting for the hurdle I can’t make, and I know it is somewhere up ahead. But I’m feeling pretty good about myself that I made all the hurdles I set for myself this past year. I feel really good about that.

But.

I went to a labyrinth last night. Middle Tennessee is always a spiritual place for me. My spiritual people are here—the people from my own personal spirituality. In Memphis and in Chicago I have my Catholic spiritual people and history. In middle Tennessee, I have my own. I went to the labyrinth and in the first prayer/meditation station I was asked to consider my spiritual life from this last year. And really, I don’t much have one. I have avoided spirituality for the most part, just like I have avoided other impractical things.

And let me explain what I mean by impractical. This was the year of practice for me. In 2010, I had so many practical things to do. So much daily tedium. So many major goals broken into weekly or daily or hourly steps of things that I must do now in order to do these other things tomorrow in order to do these other things next week in order to make this other thing happen in three months. I haven’t had much of a social life, though I did manage to schedule in (yes, into my hourly steps) a few awesome social happenings. I gladly sacrificed social fun for the fun of getting my stuff done. It’s a heady feeling, and it’s also what I’m here for.

I rarely went out with my friends. Even more seldom did I go to church. And even less frequently than that did I have any of my own spiritual experiences. 2010 was not the year for such things. 2010 was the year to get my stuff done.

In 2011, I’m going to teach for the first time (provided my classes don’t get cut). In 2011, I’m going to do my dissertation research (provided I get funding). In 2011, I’m going to start analyzing and writing my dissertation. I feel like here, 2011, this is my first tentative steps into my career as I want it to be. This is what I was working so hard last year to get to. This here is the beginning. And I want to do that right.

My career is not just a career. It was never that for me. I came here from Chicago in order to get training to do some good in the world. To learn how to stand better against the awesome swell of wrongness in the world so that I can work on making some things right. My career is not a paycheck, or a comfortable life (though, God help me, I am really feeling the pull of that). My career is my mission in paycheck form. My career is the extension of that goal I developed when I was 14 and sitting at the dinner table in Saltillo, Mexico, slammed bodily with the truth that all I ever want to do with my life is to minister to people, to fulfill spiritual and physical needs with love and service. I was so filled with my mission to save the world. I have sought to fulfill that mission in so many ways in my life, and my career is only one more way. I want to help people. I want to make the world a better place. I want to see those who are ignored by others and I want to do for them as no one else has done.

2010 was not a year for that, because in 2010 I had to get my stuff done. Now in 2011, I begin to turn my focus outward again. And to be honest, I’m not entirely sure just where I stand any longer. So that’s what I need to do, as I take these first shaking baby steps out into the rest of my life, setting the direction for the person I want to be, I need to figure out how to be that person in full. Tenacious and hardworking, goal-driven and effective, but also open with heart and spirit and guided by my mission. 2011 is the year to tie all these pieces together. And that is such an elusive and poorly defined goal that I’m not making a list. This isn’t a thing to do. This is a person to be.

Is It Worth It?

2010-07-23T08:01:00.002-10:00

If you're wondering where this question comes from, you can start by reading things like this:

http://motherjones.com/rights-stuff/2010/07/bp-cleanup-women-oil-wrestling (which shows that toxic physical environments lead to toxic community environments)

http://motherjones.com/environment/2010/07/big-oil-makes-war-earth (which discusses the environmental/community hazards of oil consumption around the world)

http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5hnRc-COAnkwXl4pq3IR3420c9jQQD9H43N500 (about the oil spill in China-- also note that it's being cleaned up by people wearing latex gloves as their only safety gear against the oil)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pacific_Garbage_Patch (the plastic problem in our oceans)

http://www.ipcc.ch/pdf/assessment-report/ar4/wg1/ar4-wg1-spm.pdf (keeping in mind that this IPCC report on Climate Change is 3 years out of date and a new one should be published soon).

This is what we're learning about our modern life, our energy consumption, our material consumption, our throw-away culture of disposable products. This is a partial glimpse at the net sum of who we are, what we do, what we buy, what we use, and what we think about while doing it. The main point is that while we are creating a toxic world, we are thinking about the ease of use, the sanitation of disposable items, the convenience and comfort of our preferences. We are not thinking about the overall outcomes.

I hold that this needs to change. Yes, individual changes are not enough. Yes, legislation is not enough. Yes, corporate environmental restrictions are not enough. Yes, alternative energies are not enough. Yes, there is no one thing that will ever be enough. I hear infuriating arguments that "we are addicted to oil" which translates into "this is too big to overcome so why bother?" or "the Pacific Gyre is already clogged with plastic" (it's too late to boycott plastic now) or other calls for inaction. The world is too big and the problem is too great. What could I possibly do about it?

So where do we start? Everywhere. Any place you are interested in starting, I can guarantee you there is already a group or many groups that have started there. Join them. And in the meantime, my little piece that I am adding today is a call for a change in mindset. I call this the "Is It Worth It?" Campaign.

The steps to take:

1) Spend a day or a week thinking "Is It Worth It?" for everything you do. Every decision you make no matter how minute-- the energy of the elevator versus taking the stairs; the use of a plastic grocery bag instead of canvas; the purchase of a disposable item versus a long-lasting one; the purchase of an item versus no purchase at all; the car versus a bike or bus; local fruit versus grown across the world; etc. Everything. I mean, everything. Your entire day should be filled with the moral quandary, is this thing I am doing right now worth it, given the long-term costs to the environment, the current costs to poor populations around the world, the health costs to humans and communities? Is It Worth It?

2) Live purposefully, making decisions accordingly.

The purpose of this campaign:

The purpose is not to fill your consciousness with guilt about who you are or how you live. Guilt can bog us down with self-doubt and criticism, and it's not your fault the world is how it is (which is not to say that you should not try to make positive changes anyway). The purpose is to pay attention to how you live and the large-scale costs/benefits of people living this way. I believe that as long as we (all people) live without consideration for the rest of the world and for tomorrow that these problems will continue to get worse. We need a change in mindset about the interconnectedness of our global economy. We need to think about what we do and why. We need to opt in to our energy consumption and purchases from third world nations as opposed to joining by default.

The Is It Worth It campaign is internal. This is about you. What do you think about your life? And what will you do next? The answers will be different for everybody. But we should at least have some answers.

So schedule a day (or a week) to ask yourself repeatedly, "Is It Worth It?"

What I have learned about complaining

2010-04-30T13:30:00.004-10:00

I'm sick. The doctor says I have bronchitis but not pneumonia, and she expects it to get better over the next days, but if it lasts another week to come back. The good news is that I'm sick this week and not next week when I'll be taking my Comprehensive exam. The bad news is that I'm sick. This sucks.

Which is the perfect opening to my long-awaited (by me) post on complaining. I gave up complaining for Lent based on a somewhat silly conversation between me and my roommate Gina in which she reminded me how great my life is when I complained about stupid stuff. It's not that I even think complaining is an inherently bad thing. My giving up complaining for Lent called attention to a number of complaining-themed conversations among friends and friends-of-friends, and they all basically came back to the conclusion that there is a time and a place in which complaining is good, and there is a time and a place in which complaining is bad.

So let me oversimplify our realizations terribly.

Complaining = The Good

Complaining may have a purpose because it creates change for the better. Complaining may serve to build a sense of community among people with a shared problem. Complaining may let off steam. Complaining may be funny. Complaining may be ironic (example, allowing the complaint "oh my god, my friends keep calling I can't get anything done" to serve as a happy reminder to yourself that that's an awesome problem to have). Sometimes complaining just makes you feel better.

Complaining = The Bad

Complaining can become so habitual that it loses irony or humor or ability to make you or anyone else feel better or the ability to actually change things. Complaining can become the status quo and infuse a heavy dose of negativity into every aspect of life. Complaining can become the status quo in which you expect everything will always be bad and so lose the will to try and change things for the better. Complaining can make you lose track of what good is inherent in the things you are complaining about. Sometimes, complaining just makes you feel worse. And also those around you.

For me, that day when Gina laughingly reminded me of the good in my life (Me: All of these good things in my life are making my life complicated. Gina: You have such a hard life /Sarcasm. Me: I know, I'll shut up), it kind of hit me that complaining had moved from The Good to The Bad. I was not complaining to blow of steam, or figure out how to make things better, or to be funny or ironic or to bond with others with a shared problem. I was just bitching. And, kind of a lot. Gina and Michael are both kind enough to say they hadn't noticed an upswing in my negativity, but I could feel it. And it's no wonder. It has been a hard semester-- studying for Comps is hard. But I'm doing this because I love it. It is both a means (get my dissertation going, get my degree) and an end (learn lots of really awesome stuff that I'm interested in). And I have lots of other really great things going for me right now that I was not being sufficiently appreciative of (great husband, great roommate, great friends, great family, great job, great school, great apartment, great climate, great food, etc.). Complaining about the hard stuff had succeeded in focusing my attention only on the hard stuff.

And so I gave up complaining.

The funny thing is that when I'd tell people I'd given up complaining, they would usually take that as an opportunity to point out whenever I said anything negative (for roughly the first two conversations we had after my no complaining revelation-- then they'd forget and move on with their lives). But to me, that wasn't the point. Not to hold everything in. Not to never acknowledge sucky things. Not to act the persistently cheerful person. No, the point was to not dwell on the sucky things. To acknowledge and move on. To focus on the good things, or to find a solution to the things I wanted to complain about. The point was to redirect my attentions, and hopefully redirect my mood.

And it took about, oh, I don't know, a week or two. Early on into Lent, it stopped occurring to me to not complain (even in thought if not out loud) about things that suck. Pretty quickly, I just started doing that automatically. Pretty quickly, I started feeling more positive and better about my life in general. Pretty quickly, my complaining went back to The Good.

Meanwhile, Gina was reporting to me a large number of conversations she was having with people about complaining. Mostly because she was a member of a group of people bound together with a shared trial over which they had no control. I'll give this shared trial a clever euphemism. How about... Psyvelopmental Decology class? Yes, that has a nice ring to it. At any rate, I'm not in that class, but it's been hard going, and I have an enormous amount of respect for the people I know who have been fighting their way through this semester. One of their coping mechanisms has been shared complaining sessions, in which they complain for the purpose of 1) humor; 2) venting; 3) bonding over shared trial, and 4) venting.

These shared complaining sessions, I would argue as have they, are part of Complaining = The Good. It serves a purpose in that it makes them feel better and supports each other. But it has also given rise to plenty of conversations about Complaining = the Bad, including occasional worries that their shared complaining sessions might be dipping into the dark side of the complaining continuum. The overall outcome seems to be a heightened mindfulness about this social construct of complaining (did I mention we're all psychologists?) and what purposes it serves us, and when it serves no purpose, or poor purpose in our lives.

Gina related a story to me a few months ago that I think about pretty much every day. It hit me with such raw force and has really made me think a lot about having gratitude for the great things I have in my life. In a conversation about complaining, one of the Psyvelopmental Decology women related a story about hearing another woman complaining about her husband snoring, and about how she, a widow, would give her teeth to be able to hear her husband snore again. And my god, how is it that we can look at the great things in our lives, even when they're being annoying, and see only annoyances? Or perhaps more to the point, why can't we just acknowledge the annoyance but keep our focus on the greatness?

This is the line between Complaining = The Good and Complaining = The Bad.

So, I made a diagram some weeks ago. It was meant to be funny, but the more I look at it, the more I think it's actually kind of a handy little reminder about the purpose and usefulness of this construct called complaining. See below.

Also, my lungs feel like they're made of acid.

An Argument Against Education

2010-03-26T22:41:00.004-10:00

So I finally got around to watching the episode of The Daily Show in which Jon Stewart parodies Glenn Beck.

http://www.thedailyshow.com/full-episodes/thu-march-18-2010-gary-locke

I'd heard it was really funny, and it was. For a variety of reasons. One of the reasons is that they cut to clips of Beck to give examples of his ravings. My favorite clip is the one where Beck says that "progressivism" is always proof positive of a shift toward fascism. This is funny, because just an hour earlier, I was reading about how fascism has ALWAYS been coupled with an unconditional return to a country's beloved past traditions. Progress is NEVER aligned with fascism. Never. Fascists always kill the progressivists first.

Fascism is also aligned with anti-intellectualism, among other things. Fascism is not the only ideology that is aligned with anti-intellectualism, so please don't take this as an argument that the current American Right (exemplified by certain politicians, tea baggers and Fox News) are fascists. I think a lot of them are right-wing extremists, at least in rhetoric if not in actual violent actions. And a lot of their rhetoric certainly supports violent actions that may be / should be taken by others (against liberals or progressives). But I'm not making an argument here that this is fascism. I have a different argument to make.

I've been thinking about this for a long time. I'm a liberal. A progressive. I'm not a Democrat because I have a lot of problems with the Party (too conservative/corrupt/ineffective/stuffy; not working hard enough for social justice or the welfare of our people). As a PhD candidate, I think I can squarely align myself in the "intellectual" lot as well. I'm also a pacifist. I believe in social justice, and I believe that when you believe in something you should work for it. And so I have, and will do.

What bothers me is the idea of the "liberal elite" that is so villainized by the Right in our country. This idea is used by the Right's most powerful (and wealthy) to galvanize poor and middle-class conservatives to action against any legislation that helps people. "Well, the liberal elite want to force this on you, but we're not going to take it."

It took me years to figure out what they're actually saying, and why in the world they would say that.

What they are actually saying, "The stodgy intellectuals who have more education and better grammar than you (and who look down on you because you don't speak as well as them or have letters behind your name) think they are better than you. They are not better than you, but they think they are and they look down on you. They think they know what's best for you, but they don't. But even though they're wrong, they're going to try and force blahblahblah through, and they will change your life for the worse and still look down on you."

"Liberal elite."

"The educated people who look down on you."

Well, as previously noted, I am both a liberal and educated, and that definition of the liberal elite just doesn't ring true. "Looking down on others" is not one of our espoused values. Which is not to say that no liberal intellectuals looks down on others. Some of them do. But not because they're liberal intellectuals. No, it's just because they're jerks. And lots of people are jerks, from all walks of life. That's a wholly different thing.

But of course, it resonates. Who hasn't been pissed off at someone who looked down on you? No one, that's who. There is no dearth of people out there to look down on you. Everyone has had one. Probably many. We hate people who look down on us.

But you know what we hate more?

We hate the people who oppress us by owning corporate empires that create bad jobs with crap wages and spill toxins into our communities. And we hate having to work for them. And we do. Have. To work for them. Because they have the power and they have the money and they made the jobs and we don't all get to have PhD's, liberal elite. Some of us gotta work for a living. And what other options are there?

The most ingenious thing the powerful, wealthy, corporate-empire-owning people have ever done is to blame the liberal elite for the struggles of the people who work for the corporate empire. But let me tell you something. The CEO of Exxon? DuPont? Cargill? Lockheed-Martin? Merrill Lynch? Lehman Brothers? These are not members of the liberal elite. They are the powerful, wealthy Right. If not in actual person, then they are the ones paying the actual person you are listening to on Fox News or Capitol Hill going on about the dangers of the liberal elite.

This is ingenious because we have this belief in our country that education will set you free. You don't have to work the crap job if you get an education. And if that were really true, and everyone believed it, and then everyone went out and got an education (which they could do with all the tax money that's going to pay for people to get educated) (thanks to the liberal elite who believe in education), there would be nobody left to work for the toxic, dangerous, crap-wage paying corporate empires. And so the toxic, dangerous, crap-wage paying corporate empires would begin to crumble. The powerful, wealthy Right therefore have to dissuade people from becoming educated. And they do this by villainizing the educated.

The "liberal elite" are the cause of all your troubles, they say.

They will ruin this country and destroy your values, they say.

(Education is your ticket out of your crap job, you hear).

(But if you become educated, you will become the liberal elite, you think).

And so what do you do?

Going to Tuvalu

2010-03-18T20:40:00.002-10:00

Hey. So, this afternoon I got the incredible news that a small grant I applied for has been funded. Basically, the grant covers a project I'll carry out this summer and fall to develop my dissertation research proposal on site in Tuvalu. My brain hasn't quite recovered from the shock of the grant being approved, so, while I want to explain to everyone what this means, I don't feel quite capable of it. Lucky for all of us, I've already explained what this means, in grant application form. It's neat and concise and, thanks to the super-editing skills of my beta Jeremie (thanks, Jeremie!), it is also well-written enough that some people decided to give me money for it.

Below is a section from the grant application, explaining what I will be doing in Tuvalu and why. I don't think it's jargony or difficult to read, so it should be cool here. But if you think it's jargony or difficult to read, please comment as much and I'll post again later when my brain is working once more so that I can explain in non-academia American English.

2. Description of activity and applicant’s role in it

The purpose of this activity is to develop my dissertation research proposal in collaboration with key community stakeholders in Funafuti, Tuvalu. By developing my research proposal on site in Tuvalu, I will be able to effectively collaborate with multiple community members who are stakeholders in the topic of my research in both professional and personal capacities. Their face-to-face involvement in the choices about specific research questions, sources for data, methods of inquiry, and analysis paradigm will ensure that the research to be conducted will be both truly representative of the experiences of Tuvalu within this topic and will be meaningful to the people of Tuvalu. This trip will further deepen my own understanding of the culture and community climate of this country.

The research topic to be addressed is the psychology of climate change in Tuvalu. Tuvalu is a small, low-lying island nation near Fiji. A vast majority of this chain of atolls is less than one meter above sea level. Tuvalu and other low-lying island nations are experiencing a unique threat from global climate changes in that the projected sea level rise will consume their countries. Tuvaluans, therefore, experience the threat of climate change differently than do Americans or Europeans. For several years already, Tuvaluans have been leaving their island home for New Zealand and other countries as “environmental refugees.” Meanwhile, the Tuvalu government is considering options for the future. The threat of climate change is very salient in this country.

The Psychology of Climate Change is a growing field. In 2009, a task force from the American Psychological Association released a 200+ page report about current research and potential future directions. The task force noted that current research suffers from a developed-nations bias, in that a majority of the research has been conducted in wealthy (and continental) nations. Current research is therefore not representative of the experience of people in developing or island nations. My research in Tuvalu would seek to address this gap.

While in Tuvalu, I will meet with private individuals to whom I am connected through colleagues and classes (community members with no professional stake in climate change, only personal stakes); as well as with professional individuals and organizations such as Alofa Tuvalu (an international climate change organization); the Ministry of Natural Resources, Energy, and Environment; and the Tuvalu Meteorological Society. During both formal and informal meetings, we will determine the exact research focus and methods that will best address the broad topic of “Climate Change and Tuvalu.” My hope is that this research will reflect both private and professional understanding of the threat of climate change, although such decisions will ultimately be made in collaboration with these groups and individuals.

The entire research development activity will consist of three parts. 1) Connecting to these individuals and organizations through phone calls, mail, and email from Honolulu so as to establish interest, relationships, and willingness to collaborate. 2) Traveling to Tuvalu for two weeks of hands-on collaboration in the development of the research framework. 3) Further communication through phone calls, mail, and email from Honolulu in order to finalize the research framework.

My role in this activity will be to organize and synthesize the multiple viewpoints and priorities of these diverse community stakeholders, and to ensure that the research framework is consistent with the cultural and community values, norms, and priorities in Tuvalu. Another important role in this activity will be to establish rapport so that the overall research process can be conducted as smoothly as possible with a very high level of open communication and trust. The initial ‘research framework development’ activity which will be funded by this grant will take place in the 2010 calendar year, between the months of August and December. The fieldwork of the larger research process (outside of the scope of this grant) will take place in the 2011 calendar year. Analysis and reporting will be completed in 2012.

No Complaints Here

2010-02-14T20:02:00.002-10:00

At least, not during Lent.

This was not an epiphany. This was not even an ah-ha moment. It was more of a "huh. yeah, I guess so" moment. It even happened on a delayed reaction.

Gina asked me if I was going to go to a party tonight. It's actually a party that I want to go to, but as always, the timing sucks. Timing is just not good in general for parties these days. That's grad school for you. But this year I am trying hard to be more social... to not ditch out on fun events (as much as usual), and to do fun things with people I like on a regular basis.

And so Friday we staged Tacos and Telenovelas at my place. And it was fun and it was with people I like, and so I was positively social and it was awesome.

Today I had my first day of CERT training (Community Emergency Response Teams). It got out early, and so of course I was all excited about the extra hours with which to cross things off of my to-do list. But then Leslie emailed, inviting me over for enchiladas and hanging out with her family and a few friends. My first reaction was the "ugh, so busy" reaction that leads me to having no social life. But then I thought, "no, I got several extra hours in my day today. I'm gonna go hang out with Leslie."

And so I did and it was awesome.

AND THEN after all of that Gina asked me if I was going to the party tonight. I was stuffed with enchiladas and still had my to-do list items, and furthermore had a little beer in me which makes my steely discipline turn into pudding, thereby making the accomplishment of to-do lists even more difficult. I dove into a litany of all of these things, these things preventing me from saying yes to this party. Gina quipped, "oh your life is so hard."

This is actually one of my favorite jokes. I make it to myself and others when we complain about awesome things. Other people make this joke to me. It's a fairly normal joke, this "oh your life is so hard" joke. It keeps us honest, and I enjoy that. At the time I hardly noticed it.

An hour later, I was reading for Comps and for no discernible reason the conversation replayed itself in my head and I thought, "You know, I've been pretty negative about things lately, even good things like enchiladas and beer turning me into pudding. I should be more positive. I should give up complaining for Lent."

And there you have it. No complaints here.

Of course, though, because I'm me, I need a plan. So, I shall try, *try*, consciously try to think of my life (even the burnout draggy things like studying for Comps) in the positive terms associated with them (like how I'm learning such awesome things in such a short amount of time). Failing that, when I find myself complaining aloud about how very hard I have it (or when someone else catches me who knows about my Lent), I will then recite a litany about the positives/benefits of whatever I was just complaining about.

But don't think this means you can sexually harass me or something and get away with it. I will still file a complaint against you. Lent will understand.

In the interest of time

2010-01-24T09:24:00.002-10:00

1) As Gina pointed out to me last night, a highly stressful situation which consumed a large portion of my fall semester has now become a funny story. It is now easy to share laughs without (much) bitterness, and I am still just very, very happy to be living in this new place. I heart my current living situation.

2) Work is going well. I feel useful and competent, and I definitely enjoy what I do. Nevertheless, I am taking days off this week so that I can catch up on other important things.

3) I've fallen behind on Comps readings. I'm not sure how much-- I've hesitated in counting up my chapters read this week versus chapters that should have been read this week. Even subtracting extra chapters I'd read in previous weeks, I know I'm behind. I hate being behind. But that's okay. Work required my attention and I decided not to stress falling behind just yet. I'm gonna take some days off work this week and devote myself to my studies. I'm going to ask Cliff on Monday to loan me some particularly interesting books this go round so that it will be easy to catch up, and hopefully, get a bit ahead again.

4) My stomach hurt this week, and so I didn't go to the gym, and I didn't want to eat, and I know I ate anyway but I don't have too much memory about what I ate. But this past week aside, I have learned that eating with the goal of adding more fruits/vegetables makes me feel good in general, and going to the gym for thirty minutes in the middle of the day makes me feel really good in general, and so I'm going to just keep doing those things into the foreseeable future, because I like feeling good in general.

5) I haven't written fiction in about two weeks, but I've kept it in my passions by keeping the story in my thoughts, figuring out character growth, scene details, story arcs when my mind is in between work/study thoughts. I want to cultivate my interest in writing this story so that I don't randomly decide one day to put it down (again) indefinitely and start on something else (again) before putting that down and... again and again and again. We'll keep on this.

6) My professional writings have received no technical gain, although I wrote a new section for the teacher handbook for work, and I based much of it off of a lit review I'd been working on, and I think this has given me new focus for editing/finishing the lit review for publication.

7) I met someone from work, Melanie, two nights ago who says she knows just the person to connect me to in Tuvalu about psychology of climate change research there. Kiriko said, "I told you she would know someone." Melanie said, "Email me in three weeks." She's on her way to Guam and Saipan right now. She knows everyone in the Pacific.

8) I have time for all of this and more. But time is an interesting thing in that sometimes, I just don't want to be productive and so I don't get anything done for many hours at a stretch.

The Scoop on Haiti

2010-01-18T13:59:00.002-10:00

Haiti has suffered a very severe earthquake, a catastrophe the likes of which all humans should hope they will never personally experience themselves. The most recent death toll estimate I've heard from credible sources (upwards of 200,000) will place this earthquake in the ten worst earthquake disasters in all of human history. It's really bad.

I'm taking another Disaster Management and Humanitarian Assistance (DMHA) class this semester, as part of my DMHA certificate. Our first assignment on hurricanes was hastily changed to a first assignment on Haiti's disaster, and so I've been reading up on it a lot this week. I've been reading up on it a lot this week with an eye toward understanding what makes this natural hazard event a "disaster." Several things stick out to me as particularly poignant and important on this topic.

Haiti is the poorest country in this hemisphere. Her infrastructure was not that advanced or strong to begin with, and it has sustained very severe damage. This is one of the major reasons the death toll continues to rise. Not all of the people who were buried in collapsed buildings had the mercy of dying immediately. Many of them died after days. I am heartbroken to say, I believe very many of them are continuing to die.

Machines that may have been able to aid in search and rescue were not able to make it into Port au Prince due to collapsed roads and roads blocked by fallen buildings. Instead, people were digging others free with their bare hands.

Search and rescue machinery, medical supplies, and food and water began arriving in Haiti with predictable, and honestly, somewhat remarkable speed-- within a day of the earthquake. However, the airport only has one runway. It was operational, but working below capacity for two major reasons. First, staff members were surviving (or had not survived) a major catastrophe. They were therefore not coming to work. Second, refueling became a major issue, meaning that planes could land and unload their supplies, but they could not take off again. This caused a major clog of the single runway so that other planes with more aid were not able to land.

Further, search and rescue machinery, medical supplies, and food and water were also arriving by boat. However, the crane at the port which unloads such heavy cargo had sustained heavy damage, and so while these supplies were there, in Haiti, in the harbor-- they could not get to land.

And then the roads were out.

I watched and read many news reports that discussed these things, and then I watched and read other news reports that talked about tensions building among survivors who were not receiving the aid they so desperately needed. The major problem in this (I should say the major MISTAKE in this) is that to me it seems not to have become part of disaster rescue/relief policy to inform people why exactly aid is not coming. The result was a city full of suffering people who don't have access to CNN thinking that the world has turned their collective backs on their tragedy.

Communication to the people about why aid has not arrived, some would argue, is far from top priority when there is no food or water and people are trapped under buildings. But I'm a social scientist. Let me tell you why this is important. When aid arrives, people will be glad to have food and water and medical supplies, finally. But they will hate the aid for having taken so long. They will hate the aid for all of the people they know and love who died because the aid did not arrive sooner. An already marginalized community (poorest nation in the Western hemisphere) is already primed to believe that those in power will abuse, misuse, and neglect their interests, because the people in power have already abused, misused, and neglected their interests. They will not trust the aid. They will believe it is all part of the standard line of trickery and deceit. They will believe the aid was purposefully withheld to create maximum casualties of unimportant people, or they will believe the aid was diverted to the wealthy, a standard practice of corruption. The extreme lack of trust in the midst of great suffering has a high potentiality to turn volatile.

On that subject, I watched as clips were shown of people running to pull water or food out of rubble. Several people reaching for the same item. Newscasters voiced over the clips that violence was beginning to break out. People on the ground were quoted as saying, "Oh, people will struggle or argue for maybe 30 seconds, and then it calms down again," and newscasters would repeat that violence was beginning to break out.

Stop it. Just stop it. People have a right to grab at water they find, and they have a right to argue with each other when they're hungry. If you're going to report that violence is breaking out after such a huge disaster, you'd damned well better back it up with footage of riots. Because violence. is. not. what. is. happening. in. Haiti. People are still digging up their loved ones. People are removing unidentified bodies from the city by the wheelbarrowful and truckload. People are searching for water and food and carrying others to makeshift tent hospitals for medical care which may or may not be enough to keep them alive. People are coping and are caring for each other, and if they yell at each other because they both want a cup of water... well, I've yelled at people for far less and in far less dire situations.

But we in the United States have this expectation that poor people, and especially poor black people will resort to violence for anything and everything. The expectation is that violence will happen, and so we look for that argument as proof that it has finally come. A nation born of slaves who have freed themselves, the poorest nation this hemisphere, we look for this to happen. It makes me swear at my computer screen, this racist, classist, sensationalist crap.

Ten worst earthquakes in human history-- you don't have to sensationalize it.

So these are the things that stick out to me about Haiti. These things and the ways in which people must survive. How people cannot trust even the buildings that remain standing because there have been so many secondary collapses, and so everyone-- EVERYONE-- in the city has become homeless, sleeping outside in the relative safety. Piles of bodies blocking roads, and people who are certain in their hearts that they are alone and forsaken. People who will never know what happened to their loved ones, if they were lucky enough to die quickly, if they were placed into a mass grave, and if so, which one.

Oh, and Pat Robertson, Rush Limbaugh, I have two words for you.

Discipline, Week One.

2010-01-09T11:36:00.002-10:00

For the record, discipline sucks.

My mom said, "Yeah, discipline is one of those things that it's really good that you have it, but you don't ever really want to use it." Truer words were never spoken. I'm glad I can be disciplined. I think I can pull it off pretty well. And I think I'll make it through this semester, through my Comps, just fine. "Just fine", of course, being a relative term.

I realized when I mapped out my Comps reading that I was going to have to be very disciplined this semester. A sustained effort of discipline. I've done this before. My last semester of undergrad, I mapped out my 22 hours of classes during the first week. I sat down with the syllabuses and scheduled every hour of the semester for homework, readings, and projects. On Jan 17, I could tell you what I would be doing on April 17 at 3:00pm. I made it through.

I also spent this last summer attached to my computer while I wrote my thesis. I made it through. But also, I started having back problems, I believe associated with my newfound sedentary lifestyle.

Me, sedentary? Who'd a thought it? But no, here I am.

Part of my Ten Goals for 2010 is my desire to get my stuff done but also have a good quality of life. Meaning, I want to finish my Comps and get going on my dissertation, but I also want to be in a good mood, and I also want my body to not hurt, and I also want to not get sick a lot like I did this past fall.

This week I began my default schedule. Work four hours every morning, head to my grad student office and read four hours before going home. It worked pretty well, in the sense that I got my scheduled readings done (and a few extra on top of that), I got my work done so I'll still get paid, and also I had the evenings pretty well free to do all of those fun things that should ensure I get a well-balanced life out of this disciplined mess. I wrote fiction. I worked on my professional writings. I spent time with my boy. I skipped the poetry slam with Leslie and I wish I hadn't, but I did go out for many beers with the ladies from work last night. So I should feel well-balanced and successful. But actually, I spent most of this week feeling tired and cranky.

I hate being in a bad mood, especially because I know how moods affect those around you. I kept trying to smile and force happiness and achievement into my emotions, but I just wanted to complain about things. I won't keep doing this. I just... I refuse. I want my home life and my work life to be happy places, where we stress sometimes but are basically in a good mood as we support each other through getting our stuff done. This is what I value. This is what I want.

The big question, therefore, is whether I'm so tired and cranky because I just need to build up some work/study stamina to match my disciplined schedule, or, if I'm so tired and cranky because I've created a disciplined schedule that is inherently unhealthy.

There is no answer to this big question, at least, not one that I can give with any certainty at this moment. If it's only a matter of stamina, I won't know for a few weeks while I build that up. But I'm not really willing, I've decided, to take the risk that I'll be making myself unhealthy while building up that stamina. So I've got to alter and adjust as I go through.

Discipline, Week Two is going to include a fitness center break in the middle of the day. Between work and reading, I'm gonna go to the gym on campus, break up the sedentariness of my day with (hopefully) a bit of an endorphin kick. We'll see how this goes. It would mean a 9:00-6:00 day instead of a 9:00-5:00 day, but I'm thinking that hour of physical activity in the middle will give me some positive outcomes. I'm hoping, anyway. I hate being cranky.

***

Other Ten for 2010 updates: Comps is on schedule. I've chosen which book I'm going to write this year. I've submitted proposals to two conferences. I've eaten fruit and/or vegetables with maybe 8/10 meals. Haven't gone to hot yoga yet, but we've got plans for it. Have gone out or over to friends' houses for fun and chatting and alcohol a couple of times. So far, so good.

Ten Goals update and a scary sidenote

2010-01-01T20:47:00.002-10:00

I started out the New Year right with a hike. It was way awesome. Also, I ate three meals by 1:30 pm, and still continued to be mildly hungry until having a huge dinner and cake at 5:00. I seem to remember my brother had been on a 6000 calorie diet or something when he did the Appalachian Trail.

I hiked a mountain ridge, which was awesome because I could look down into two valleys, one of which is home to my school and the other of which has always seemed terribly far away from my school. It's not. There's just a mountain between them.

The trail I set out on hooked up with this other trail which turned out to be a mostly super-steep mud-and-wet-leaves-slicked descent into the valley which is home to my school. Manoa valley, if you're wondering. It came out next to this old man's driveway, and he was kind enough to wish me a happy new year, tell me where I was, and point me on my way.

It was a fantastic way to get going on my 10 for 2010 goals, and a fantastic way to start out this year.

After that, as a scary sidenote, I began my studies for Comps. I have recently figured out that I need to read approximately 7 chapters/articles every day (provided I take no days off) until late April or early May when I take my Comprehensive Exam. And so today I read and took notes on about 180 pages of a book about race and class in the Chicago ghetto [Streetwise: Race, Class, and Change in an Urban Community by Elijah Anderson]. Great book. Highly recommended.

Now I need a beer.

And one appears in my hand. Thanks, Michael. Don't I have the best husband ever?

Ten Goals for 2010

2009-12-31T10:40:00.002-10:00

Yeah, we all make resolutions, and yeah, we mostly fail in delivering on them. That may very well wind up being the case with these as well. But the whole point of making resolutions is to admit to yourself that you’re not where exactly you want to be, or at the very least, you’re not now where you want to be one year from now. The whole point of resolutions is to think about ways you can improve your life and improve your wellbeing.

I don’t personally believe in resolutions that will make you miserable (i.e., I will lose ten pounds or else I’m a worthless fat slob) because whether or not your meet your goal, you still lose. I think resolutions ought to be things that you want to strive for, for multiple reasons. Good reasons. Reasons that make you happy (i.e., I’ll eat better and then I’ll probably feel better). This way, you find ways to go about meeting your resolutions that make you happy. Means and end both = win.

My ten goals for 2010 are all about things that I want to do. Things that I enjoy doing. Things that I want to do more of. Things that I want to complete. Things that will make me happy, both in the means, and in the end. Whether these goals pile into the massive pile of undelivered promises to oneself, or build neatly into the structure of my evolving life, the motives and efforts behind these goals will increase my happiness and wellbeing. Or if not, eh. Screw ‘em anyway.

#1. Eat healthier.

This is a tricky goal, a common goal, and a commonly unmet goal followed by massive amounts of guilt—why can’t I just eat better? And no, I’m not really talking about me. I see this everywhere, hear this story from everyone. Americans are getting fatter as our food gets more and more crap. We want to eat better, but there are all these tantalizing commercials for tastiness, and ooh! just this once won’t hurt. But then the standard is set and just this once becomes the norm. I know how it is.

The trick for me this year will be to take on a new ‘healthier eating’ challenge each month. I’ll look at my diet, see what improvements I can (and want to) make, and then I’ll focus on that one thing for a month, normalizing a positive change. Right now? I really want to increase my fruit and veggie intake. So that’s my January challenge, to spend the month just trying to add more fruits and veggies into my belly. Twelve steps to healthier eating and all that.

#2. Write a book.

I easily have a half dozen books that are formed enough that I know the whole story. I can tell you the whole story. Why haven’t I written down the whole damned story? So I wanna do that. Tell the whole damned story. My goal is to choose one of these tales (or a new one if I am so inclined), and write it. I have two days before 2010 to pick. Then I’ll have the goal. After that, I just need the sustained resolution to make it happen. I really want to do this. I really want to try.

#3. First author two journal articles to be submitted to peer-reviewed journals.

This goal is easier than it sounds, I think. One article I already know can be used to meet a requirement for my Minor Comprehensive Papers, which I would like to complete during Summer 2010. Another I have been working on with my job off and on for a number of months. We just need to get it done, is all. This goal would be a good thing for my career development, and also I think it would be neat.

#4. Take Comps in the Spring, and complete Minor Comps in the Summer.

I will do these things regardless. They are required before I can get on with my dissertation research. The goal is the timeline. It’s a tough timeline, but a doable one I believe. So that is my goal. I’ve set this timeline as a kickstart to a longer timeline that will get me done with my PhD in 2012. Comps are scary and it’s gonna be hard, but I’ve decided that that’s all the more reason to throw myself into it and meet this challenge head on.

#5. Also walk away from my computer from time to time.

In the literal sense of ‘walking away.’ I’m ready to start hiking. I want to hike some of these beautiful trails on Oahu. Spend time connecting with the outdoors, decompressing from school and work and what have you. I’ve realized recently that it’s just in my nature to want to be out in nature. I shouldn’t deny myself that. Nor should I deny myself writing, because that too is in my nature. But I need some balance. I’m thinking a daylong hike every month. Any walks/ bike rides/ other outdoorsy excursions beyond that is cake. A daylong hike every month will take resolution and effort, but would improve my wellbeing. And therein lies the goal.

#6. Make contacts in Tuvalu for my dissertation.

I’m giving myself 2010 to figure out what exactly I want to do for my dissertation (get my proposal together, hopefully find some funding). It may not even wind up being in Tuvalu. I’ve found potential contacts on the internet, organizations that I think would be interested and willing to be involved in this sort of research. But I need to figure out what exactly I want to do, write some things up, and connect with people. I want to do all the prep work in 2010 so that I can walk in with more ease in 2011. I really want to do international research for my dissertation, and the threat of sea level rises to small island nations has touched my heart. So if I want to do this, and I do, these are the steps I need to take this year. So I must not get distracted by the every other things going on.

#7. Present at 2 or 3 conferences.

One is already in the bag. I’ll be presenting at PacRim again this year. Finding/ proposing/ being accepted/ getting to the other one or two will be the goal. And really, I love presenting at conferences so this will be great fun for me. As I’ve mentioned before, I love public speaking. It’s mingling that I fear. Cocktail parties and the like. But this’ll be a fun goal, I mostly just need to remember to do it before the year runs out.

#8. Hot yoga.

Leslie and I started talking about this recently, and I say we go for it. Once a week or two weeks, whatever we can fit into our schedule. I think that is a good idea. The cost isn’t so bad and I got the GSO executive council stipend to back up my lack of guilt for spending a bit of money on this thing. Also, yoga is good for one’s soul. I hear that hot yoga makes your body feel all nice and loose and detoxed. And also good for one’s soul is to go out and do something cool and relaxing with friends.

#9. Go out with my friends.

Even when I get terribly busy and stressed out, I must remember that it is okay to take a few hours out of my schedule to go chill out with people I like and have some fun. Michael and I are both poor and cheap, and plus I’m tired after working all week. Watching a movie at home is easier, but going out with people, or hey having people over, is much more beneficial.

#10. Lose this list.

Which might be a bit difficult since I’ll be posting it on my blog at New Year’s and then probably writing updates about it all year long. But I always try to end each to-do list with a ‘lose this list’ line item so that I don’t feel too bad if I fail to complete everything I set out to complete. Or anything I set out to complete. Or, if I do complete everything, best not to get too cocky about it.

2009 had some ups and had some downs, but it ended on a powerful strong high note and I’m feeling quite optimistic about the things to come. I’m hopeful for a good 2010, and I’m all set to take care of myself as I push forward with all of my goals.

The Problem with Reality Shows

2009-11-18T08:26:00.002-10:00

Ah, reality shows. I don't know most of you, and my surprise is beginning to dwindle at that fact. There are reality shows about everything and everyone these days. It seems everyone can be, or has been, famous. There once was a time when reality shows were novel, and they were kinda cool because if nothing else you got to watch them (or hear about them) and then feel immensely better about yourself and your life because, hey, at least you don't act like/ have the problems of that loser.

But then.

Reality shows have officially taken off. And let's be honest with yourself, Kati, this probably happened years ago while you were busy noticing other things. But right now, you're noticing reality shows and a terrible thought has struck you. You know the problem with reality shows, me. Oh, you know.

Back in the day, there was a smug feeling you got when comparing yourself to these nouveau riche, I mean 'nouveau famous' people. We as Americans sat back and watched these reality show "stars" with high levels of satisfaction, coupled with low levels of embarrassment that, because these guys are on TV and we're not, THESE GUYS are part of the standard by which the rest of the world views us, and not us.

The Problem, Part I is that back then there was this WHOLE OTHER section of America watching the same shows and thinking, Ah, here's my chance. This whole other section of America went right out and got their own show, leading us to

The Problem, Part II. Back in the day reality shows were full of young, poor-ish, drunk 20 somethings acting like damn fools for various reasons. These days, reality shows are full of everyone-- rich, poor, posh, gansta, all genres of "stars", all backgrounds, all motives, all styles, all ages. Reality shows these days actually do represent a pretty fair cross section of America. This is a problem, and I'll tell you why.

Marketing. Advertisements, television, movies, media in general. They have a long history in this country of simulating reality in such a way as to usurp what is real and what is good with something that seems like it's real and good but is slightly cooler and also makes some people a lot of money. These media are part of our culture, and they guide is in what we want/buy/do.

Enter into this cultural norm Reality Shows, in which so much of America is very nearly represented. The difference between them and us is that on Reality TV the goal is to be as outlandish, loud, attention-drawing, trashy, and self-involved as possible so that everyone is looking directly at you all the time. Reality TV is a warped version of real reality. Unfortunately, because it so nearly represents so many of us, Reality TV has become normalized. People begin to think that in real reality, they're supposed to act like they do in Reality Shows.

It's not quite so standard to sit back and watch, all smug and embarrassed. Instead we look to Reality Shows the way we look to the rest of the marketing machine to find out what we ought to do and think and buy.

Personally, I'm hoping that in a few weeks, I'll stop feeling so shocked and sad and bitter at this normalizing effect of reality shows on real people. I'm hoping I'll forget how many, many reality shows there are because they will no longer be nearly representing pieces of my world. I'm hoping that I'll find myself less focused on people who want a piece of that action, and refocused on people who bask in smugness and embarrassment.

You know. Real people.

Recovering/Brushing

2009-09-20T15:21:00.003-10:00

So, I've had the flu (or a flu-like illness) this past week. Good news is that it seems mostly to be over. Bad news is I'm weak as hell after spending six days in bed, and not really being able to eat three of those days. :( It's gonna take awhile to get my strength back up so I don't feel I need to go lay down after doing... well, anything.

Bleh. This stuff sucks.

The upshot is that a week in bed was possibly good for my aching back-- we'll see after I've stopped taking flu-painkillers and start moving around again. Also I've started a six week back-pain-be-gone system, which, with continued use over the years, took away my adviser's wife's back pain for these past couple decades. I'm hopeful.

But the important thing to note today is that my hair is long. Yes, officially, my hair is long. I got out of the shower and looked into the mirror as it dripped down my back and I thought briefly, 'I'm never going to be able to brush this by myself. I'm way too weak.'

The thing was, that's an old thought resurfacing unexpectedly from the last time my hair was long back in Chicago. When I wasn't feeling well or when I'd had a tiring day or something, my arms would wear out trying to brush out the tangles after a wash-- that, even with the two handfuls of conditioner slathered through. And when I say my arms would wear out, I mean that sometimes I would get about halfway through and ask Michael to do the rest because he would just have to reach forward and brush, whereas I would have to spend extended periods of times contorted into strange hair brushing positions in order to run the brush through the full length of it. It was tiring.

But that was then.

I've been doing the baking soda rinse wash / vinegar rinse condition now for about a year and a half. My hair was chin length when I started this. But now, now it is long. And now that it is long, here are the problems with the baking soda/vinegar thing:

1) My hair loses its body if I wash too many consecutive times with too much baking soda and vinegar. A couple times yields no change in the light curly bounce, but four or five times and it starts to get flat.

2)

No, it's really just the one thing. And that can be rectified by either waiting a couple days to wash again (ponytail days) (but let's be frank, most days are ponytail days anyway) or by just being careful not to use too much during the next few washes.

When I had short hair and started using baking soda and vinegar instead of shampoo and conditioner, it started taking only six brush strokes to brush out my hair after a shower rather than then [many] that it took before. Now that I have long hair, it still only takes six brush strokes to brush out my hair after a shower.

So when I looked in the mirror today and saw all that wet hair, and the thought of brushing it filled me with dread for the enormous amount of strength it would take to accomplish that feat, it was only momentary. Because then I realized that my hair doesn't knot the way it used to when I used shampoo. And even in my post-flu weakened state, I could still brush my hair all on my own.

And that made me happy. Just wanted to share.

Academically speaking,

2009-09-05T10:09:00.002-10:00

One of the cool things about being in a field that I love and am continuously more interested in is that I get to meet lots of people who are really neat. Most every time a new class begins, we go around and introduce ourselves, our lives, our studies, and I think, "Wow, these people are all really interesting. I'm looking forward to sharing this class with them."

I started my first class toward becoming certified in Disaster Management and Humanitarian Assistance (DMHA) a couple weeks back, and as we went around the room, my thoughts were more along the lines of, "Holy shit, every single person in this class is waaaay cooler than me!" It's a large class, and as such there hasn't yet been much discussion around the table, but I am really, really, really looking forward to it when it does happen.

We have the lady who worked with Bosnian refugees. We have the guy who directed a disaster refugee program in Indonesia. We have the lady who studies lava flow on the moon. No, really. That's what she does.

This class also promises to be cool (outside of its own right of being really cool because I'm interested in learning more on the subject) in two ways:

1) the professors are pretty awesome, and except for being from an Urban Planning background as opposed to a psychology/social sciences background, my research and life interests are pretty well entangled with the research and careers of these two professors. I can't wait to learn everything from both of them.

2) the Urban Planning department was just named a national center for disaster management training (the official title is very similar to those words, but I don't remember them exactly or else I'd have capitalized). I mean, it was very very recently named a national center for training. So our final project in this class was changed from research paper to... create a training program that will address a need in DMHA. Dr. Kim said, "So, this project is exploitative in nature because we're using you all for ideas for training programs, but on the other side is that if you have a really good idea we might be able to hire you in the spring to further develop and implement it."

Of course, in that moment my goal became to create a project that they'll want to develop and implement. I honestly have no idea how reasonable a goal that is, given that this is my first foray into the field, but no point not shooting for it, right?

I also don't know how exactly all of this fits together for my long-term plans, although it seems as though it could come together quite cohesively.

My Plan As It Stands Now:

1) Get a Masters in December. This entails revising and defending my thesis before October ends, which I believe is doable. I finished my first draft a couple weeks back, did some edits, sent it off to my adviser, and just received it back yesterday. He had some really good suggestions, including two things that I knew I had left out and needed to figure out how to add but hadn't figured out how to add, and some other things that I agree will greatly improve the overall work. And a whole bunch of grammar and APA stuff.

2) Start my DMHA certificate. I figured now was a good time, because I want to be developing my dissertation proposal over the next year, and knowledge from this certificate will really help me in that. My Cultural Community Psychology adviser agreed that was a good idea, and my brand spanking new DMHA Certificate adviser (Dr. Kim) also agreed and seemed to think my interests aligned well into the program.

3) Complete my major comprehensive exams in the spring. I've been scared of these for awhile, but I've had the great fortune of watching Andrew, who is also in Cliff's lab, go through Comps last semester. He gave me great tips for survival, explained to me how it works and what it's like, and generally gave me a realistic point of view. I can do Comps in the spring. I'm pretty confident of this.

4) Complete my minor comprehensive papers in the spring and summer of 2010. They're designed, it turns out, so that you can use them as building blocks for your dissertation research, I guess in many if not all cases. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to use my minor papers as research opportunities and dissertation-building opportunities.

5) Also use my classes as dissertation-building opportunities. Over the next year, I'm going to try and take classes that I'll be able to use toward that goal.

I feel much more directed now. There's room in that plan for things/times/research/goals to change, but at least I have a good idea what to shoot for. Also, I don't know what all will happen with work. I've pretty well decided that unless I'm able to get in on a grant that is directly related to my dissertation research, I'm going to stick with the job I have. Because I'm invested in it. I'd be really sad to not see it through, although if I have the opportunity to have a job that will pay me to do my dissertation research, well. That would be pretty awesome.

But for now, I'm gonna have breakfast. Because it's closing in on 11am and I haven't done that yet. The rest of my plans can wait.

one last goodbye.

2009-08-31T09:25:00.003-10:00

Hello,

So, blog, it's not that I've been avoiding you per se. I just didn't know what to write about. Well, I take that back. I did know what to write about. So many things have been happening, and any one of them are blog worthy. All of them, in fact. But by writing about them, I'm not writing about the thing that, well, I didn't know how to write about.

But it's gone on long enough. I can't keep avoiding this. Life is passing me by and none of it is getting recorded for posterity and friends' amusement. So let's do this thing. Let's do this.

I had a great dream the other night. And I woke up sad. I fell back to sleep and had another great dream. And again I woke up sad. The alarm was going off this time, and so I whispered to the world, "Goodbye, Duke," and I got out of bed and rejoined reality.

In reality, Duke killed himself last month. In my dream, he had faked his death. He was still intending to do himself in, but that time was faked. He came to Hawaii, just showed up in our lives, still alive, and said it wasn't for good, he was still going to kill himself, but he wanted to come say goodbye first. And so we got to say goodbye.

In my first dream, we talked, all of us. People from every part of my life were there, drifting in an out. I sat with Duke and we talked of childhood trauma that we have in common, him worseso than me, but I get it. And we talked about that. And he said he never knew, and he was glad to know there was someone else out there who got it.

In reality, Duke's villain was his dad. We had talked about it once. His dad had, apropos nothing, decided that he had done Duke a great favor by being a sick psychotic bastard asshole fuckface to Duke; had done well by his son by doing what he'd done. Because Duke suffered. And he understood life. And he became an artist.

In reality, one of my villains was Ed, my ex, who had also come to a similar conclusion that he had done well by me by doing what he'd done. Because I'm not so naive anymore. Because I came out of our relationship worse for wear, but became stronger eventually, and that was all because of him.

It's like that song by one of those blond girls (I get them all confused), where she thanks her abuser because now she's stronger, now she's a fighter.

But that's all bullshit, and I hate that song because it's all bullshit. Blond girl's abuser didn't make her a fighter. Ed didn't make me stronger. Duke's dad didn't make him an artist. They only made us hurt. We're the ones who made us who we are. We're the ones who took the shit others gave us and figured out a way not to be trampled entirely. Those bastards deserve no credit for doing what they've done. They shouldn't have done it.

I told Duke this, in reality, at the time of our conversation. But in my dream, we talked about the abuse. We didn't talk about prevailing, about become strong artist fighters. We talked about surviving. In my dream, we sat together and understood each other. In my dream, he and Michael walked off together to talk alone, and I sat there for a long time, wondering when they would come back, what they were talking about, and if Duke was still going to die.

And I woke up, and he was still dead. And I missed him entirely. And I never got to say goodbye.

Duke was our best man. He was there that night I swallowed my fear and called the green-haired boy at Taco Bell and asked him out. He was there with us as we fell in love. He and Michael went on that night, and Duke told Michael that I was the one who would save him. Duke was there at the Red Rose coffee shop that first night of early labor before Ian was born. He stood with us in the park where we got married. He stayed with us before we left Murfreesboro for Chicago, glad we were going but not really willing to let Michael go. He came to us in Chicago. I always thought he would appear in Hawaii one day, just show up on our doorstep and be here.

The day before our 8th anniversary, we found out. His friends held a memorial for him at the park where we got married. And we stood there and remembered.

So goodbye, Duke. I'm so sorry that life wasn't better to you. And I'm sorry if you needed someone to be there and I wasn't. And I'm sorry that I'm saying this to my blog, and not to you. We miss you a lot. So many of us do. Rest, now that the pain is over. Be well, my friend.

"Social Services" if you can call it that

2009-07-08T20:21:00.002-10:00

I was having a beer with a German lady, and we talked of many things. And because I was I and she was she, we wound up on the topic of the poor, and she included in her sentence the fragment:

German lady: ...and your "social services", if you can call it that...

Which made me smile. And I noted how I liked that she made sure to put finger quotes around "social services", and that I liked it because it is rare that I get to talk to someone who thinks that we, in fact, do not go above and beyond in taking care of our people.

She said, "Yeah, like, there is a lady in a van who came and parked outside of my house. And she has six cats. And it's not very sanitary because the litter box is in the van, and she lives there with the cats. She's been there for about two months."

And I, with my American brain, kept waiting for her to get to the point in the story in which she called the police but they never came to remove her, and then I would say how sad it was that that was her only option, to live in a van with her cats... because that's the way these conversations usually go when I talk to people about such things.

But that point about calling the police never came. The point was that the lady lived in a van with her cats.

My friend continued, "And I wonder about what brought her to living that way, and it's hard to believe that there's nobody to help her." No social services, sans finger quotes, to help this lady have a better life than living in a van with six cats.

"But you all," Americans, she means, "Are used to it because it is what you see all the time."

And she shook her head, because she is not used to it at all.

on Reverse Fall and Slow Bruising

2009-06-06T08:05:00.004-10:00

We find ourselves in the earlier stages of Reverse Fall. Reverse Fall is that time in Hawai`i, beginning around my birthday, in which the weather becomes so hot and dry that all of the greenery shrivels and dies. Grass dries out to brittle crunchy shards. Leaves drop and litter my driveway in inches thick carpet. Diamond Head changes color in entirety from luscious green to tumbleweed brown. And plus it becomes 90 in parts of Honolulu, including my part. Today's Weather is wrong!

What I have to look forward to is Reverse Spring. Sometime around Halloween and Thanksgiving, the temps begin to cool, the rains begin to fall, and everything becomes green again. Winter here is rainy and sometimes stormy, and now that I've been here two years -- cold.

I like them both in ways, the hot and the cold. The hot because I don't have to wear so much clothes, the cold because my laptop doesn't overheat, and plus sunscreen is less an immediate necessity.

I carry an umbrella year round, protecting from sun after Reverse Fall begins and protecting from rain after Reverse Spring. Summer also mean sunscreen if I go outside for anything, even to walk to the grocery store. When I decorated my Wonder Woman Filing Cabinet:

(Previously, it was a rusted out metal filing cabinet a la Mimi's office at St. Paul Elementary which my adviser had had in his basement storage for upwards of three centuries, but kindly dedicated to the cause of my organization.)

I put sunscreen on my shoulders and face, but failed to anticipate that the back of my shirt would ride up a little bit as I bent over the 70sriffic tank of office furniture on my lanai, and now I have a stripe of brown across my lower back. I had gotten a touch of pink on my shoulders, and complained to Michael that the sunscreen hadn't done much. Then I showered and saw the gash of lobster red at my shirt line, and took it all back.

Go sunscreen.

This week I've mostly been indoors. Work was quite busy at the beginning as I finished a report on what we learned from the interviews and focus groups we did with the teachers. Since that finished, I've been working hard on thesising.

I have "slow bruised" my elbows from sitting such long hours in front of my computer this week. There was no impact, no blow, just a gradual bruising from near-constant desk-elbow action. I have cloths underneath them now, padding them from the genuine wood grain appearance of my desktop.

I have two more days of this stage of my thesis. The coding will finish tomorrow if I just keep with it, coming in four days early from my scheduled goal. Next stage is analysis, which I've never done before, but I'm hoping I can finish by July.

In my spare time, I'm reading a history book covering the struggle between Cromwell and Charles I for the people's control of government or the government's control of people. It's about a young Lady forced into marriage with a dashing, but severe Lord who is a close adviser to Cromwell. Is there love in her future and will The People succeed in enforcing their rights? Who can say -- there's no way anyone could determine the outcome of this one. But ah, what a ride!

Back to Culture and Values

2009-05-22T07:02:00.002-10:00

So here's this thing I've been thinking on, followed possibly by a personal update on all my activities while I've been MIA these last weeks.

Between work and thesis research, I've had an opportunity to talk to a bunch of locals (Native Hawaiian, Part Hawaiian, and other locals) about Hawaiian values. Even when not talking specifically about what the values are, I've been observing the way people talk, the way they connect or don't connect information or stories, the way that pieces of information and meaning come together to create a whole concept. I've been watching the way strangers interact when they run into each other. I've gotten to interview teachers about teaching styles and strategies-- the way they purposefully impart their knowledge to others. And I've come up with this theory, and I feel very strongly about the rightness of this theory. The problem is that every time I try to put it into words, in return I get the blank stare of 'whatthehellareyoutalkingabout?'

So I'm going to try and suss it out here, so that next time I say it aloud, I can manage to phrase it in a meaningful and comprehensible way.

Native Hawaiians and other locals tend to place a high value on connections between people. When you run into someone you haven't seen in a long time, or if you are meeting someone for the first time, you begin to talk story. You establish:

1) place. Where are you from?, or, Do you still live there? A common line of questions here regards which high school you went to. Hawaii is very place-based in that where you are from says a lot about who you are and what you do. This goes back to the Kingdom in which people typically stayed in their community of birth throughout their lifetime, goes back to the plantation days which furthered that insular idea of 'this place is ours, we belong to this place', but also has relevance in a modern society that is divided by class among other things. Mainland people tend to ignore the relevance of place, but we all know that it's different if you come from Manhattan or the Bronx.

2) family and 3) friends. Who are you related to?, or, How are your relatives? Who do you know? and How are they doing? These questions come from place, or from last name -- if you're from this place or this family, maybe you know these people. These questions go into specifics of a long line of individual family members and friends, or even vague acquaintances. Have you ever met or seen or heard of this person? I've heard newly met strangers go over twenty or thirty names looking for people they both know, and then swap stories about those people they know, even before getting into any sort of personal conversation that has to do with the two people who are talking, or sometimes if there's a purpose for the meeting, before they get to that purpose. One lady I talked to joked that "We use that long introduction to figure out if we even want to bother giving our time to talk to you."

In these ways, Hawaiians make a connection between themselves and a stranger, and that opens doors between them. I personally get left out of this, because I didn't go to any of the high schools here, because I know very few people here. So I talk story about growing up in Memphis, about working in Chicago, or even about my ideas behind my thesis research with the Superferry-- a lot of people have some very strong notions about the Superferry. But even this, a stranger coming in with no previous connection, I can establish that connection by giving of myself and my stories. This is not an entirely appropriate behavior in a lot of mainland cultures. You don't typically tell childhood stories to strangers in your first 10 minutes of conversation. But I do that here sometimes, especially outside of the 'university' and 'city' contexts. And it seems to put people at ease, because then they know who they're dealing with.

Another thing I've noticed, in terms of connection, is that when I talk to locals about anything, I usually wind up having conversations in metaphor. For example, "The Superferry is just like [insert any one of a dozen events or stories about how people have interacted in some way in the past]." Also, I've heard, "When you rub this plant it closes off, the leaves snap shut together for about five minutes before it reopens. So I tell the men that come out here that it's just like them. If they get angry, if somebody is rubbing them wrong, they should close and step away. Then after a few minutes when they feel calm, they can open back up to the world and deal with the problem." People are compared to the land, and the land to people. Hawaiians are kama`aina, people of the land. The `aina is their ancestor. The connection of people to land is ubiquitous, and often comes up in metaphor. Other metaphors-- any new information or idea or person is compared to what is already known. The connection is everything.

The next question, for me, becomes, How does this relate to education?

This is my next question because with my job we're trying to figure out the best way to infuse Native Hawaiian culture into a Western classroom setting, particularly into math and reading classes because those are the Standards by which all school kids are tested and judged. Like most minorities in this country, Native Hawaiians and Part Hawaiians are severely overrepresented in SpEd referral and school failure.

I read a great article recently that debunked the myth that poverty or FAS or whatever other social ill actually causes various minorities to be overrepresented in SpEd and school failure because a much larger percentage of them have some sort of mental or cognitive issue that hinders schooling. That's the myth. The reality is that in Special Education classes nation-wide, minorities are overrepresented in referrals that deal with judgmental diagnoses, but not for nonjudgmental diagnoses. In other words, SpEd for mental retardation? Same numbers/levels of minority and non-minority kids. SpEd for emotional, behavioral, psychological issues? That's where the overrepresentation lies. Why? Because a lot of times minority kids think, behave, value, expect, and strive for different things than their white middle class counterparts. And if a majority of teachers and counselors who are making referrals and diagnoses are white middle class, then maybe they're expecting the kids to have different ways of thinking, behaving, valuing, and different expectations and goals to strive for. So when these things don't match up, the teacher/counselor/other person in charge thinks there's something wrong with the kid OR decide that they, the teacher, are unequipped to deal with [whatever differences] within their classroom with their resources and knowledge, and so the kid gets referred out.

This is not necessarily indicative of ill intent by those in charge. I think a lot of it has to do with a misunderstanding of the way cultural norms influence EVERYTHING. Another article I recently read discussed taking some childhood developmental level tests to Mayan children. These are the conservation of mass tests and puzzles that Piaget and other developmental Psychologists have used to determine when it is that kids reach the age of reason. Not surprisingly, when you give Mayan children puzzles that are made from American items they've never seen before, they had trouble figuring out what to do even at a much older age than their American counterparts. But when you made similar tests with Mayan items (weaving looms, for example), the kids had no problem, though their American counterparts who had never seen a weaving loom had more issues figuring it out.

The kicker to me, and the point of me mentioning that story, is that the unschooled Mayan kids were still confused as to Why in the World would you sit down and figure out these puzzles for no reason? You don't just sit down and problem solve when you don't actually have a problem. American kids are used to this, because that's a big part of our education. The teacher asks us to add these numbers. The teacher asks us to answer these questions about this story. The teacher asks us to arrange these things in alphabetical order. We learn from an early age to problem solve for the sake of problem solving. The unschooled Mayan children on the other hand had only ever learned to problem solve for the sake of solving a problem that was real and present in their lives. Presenting these puzzles to assess their developmental level was... doable. They had the cognitive ability to solve the puzzles. But it was still a weird thing to ask them to do. (The Mayan children who had been schooled in the Western-style schools nearby did not experience this same confusion.)

Going back to Hawaiian children in Western public school classrooms. It occurs to me that in my own education, I spent a great deal of time learning independent, unrelated pieces of information. Even information that was related-- the math that built on last year's math, the science that required previous knowledge, the reading that got more complex as time went on -- SEEMED unrelated to me, because I wasn't blessed with the Big Picture Overview of Education and Life that the teachers all had (and probably took for granted, much like I do now that I'm a grown up).

But again, Western schooling reflects Western values. We value intelligence (and I won't discuss here, but believe me when I tell you not everyone on Earth thinks of intelligence in the same way we do), and we value knowledge for knowledge's sake. Unrelated information? No problem. We know all sorts of useless things -- "useless" because they don't actually apply to our lives in any way. But that's okay for us, and it's okay for our schooling to demand that of us. It fits into our value system and cultural norms.

I think that even the most culturally-steeped traditional Hawaiian children are perfectly capable of learning a long series of unrelated facts as they wind their way through American public school. But ask them to do this for 12 years, and then ask yourself if you're really surprised that they find this whole process to be bizarre and foreign and irrelevant to their lives. If connection is everything, then maybe one thing we ought to focus on as we try to make Western education more culturally relevant is how to connect information to other information, how to connect information to these kids.

One way is through actual projects regarding Hawaiian culture or values or practices. Another way is to introduce chants or an ohana (family) atmosphere to the classroom. But the grant I'm working on is focused on math and reading, is focused on imparting core curriculum knowledge to students. And I think the lesson here is to find a way to explicitly connect new information to past information, or new information to the kids lives, or both. The connection of information in Western schooling is oftentimes implicit, or missed entirely. I think one of the keys we'll find with my grant is to make the connections explicit, just like Hawaiians make their connections explicit. I think adding this into the *process* of imparting information will be an important infusion of culture into the Western classroom.

Anyway, that's what I've been thinking on. And I don't guess I'll update on my life right here, but I'll try to do that soon. Maybe even later today. Maybe not. But I'll try to get it in this weekend, since I have four days of it this time. Peace.

Do Animals Have Culture?

2009-04-10T19:14:00.002-10:00

They say that animals bred in captivity could not survive in the wild because they don't have the necessary skills. Is this because they grew up in the "zoo culture" and instead developed "zoo culture" skills? Does this explain why animals born and bred in the wild have such a hard time adjusting to captivity? Are they experiencing culture shock?

And if animals have culture, and I'm pretty sure a lot of them experience emotion, is it okay to eat them? And if it is, does that mean that it's okay to eat people, who also have culture and experience emotion?

Of course, cows and chickens may not enter into this equation, because hey, I don't know, maybe they don't have culture and emotion.

And herein lies the problem with theorizing about Evolutionary Psychology perspectives in cultural development of early humans. It just raises so many non-paper-related questions.

And hmm, I hear my dad's voice in my head making jokes about cheese cultures.

Good one, Dad.

Missing Inaction.

2009-03-31T10:22:00.002-10:00

Because, yes, I *am* missing inaction. Not that I regret any of the current action on-going in my life, just that sometimes I like to chill out and do nothinginparticular without feeling guilt about it. Lately, things have been quite busy. And while I have certainly partaken in my fair share of nothinginparticular, it's always the guilt-laden variety.

But exciting times, as always! I have moved into a wonderful new apartment. I am working quite hard on my thesis. I am working quite hard on my final paper for my Development and Community Psychology class. I am working quite hard on... work. And plus I'm going to Seattle for a week. Leaving tonight. Okay, maybe that's not too many things. Maybe I can have my action and my inaction too. Guilt-free.

But not today.

Today I'm feeling the weight of the work I have left to do this semester and the week I'll be missing while at a conference in Seattle. Today I'm reminding myself that I tend to get things done even when quite busy, and that I also tend to get things done early because I hate butting up against deadlines. Today I'm reminding myself that it's okay to not get things done early; it's okay to butt up against deadlines.

The good news is that my wrist is pretty much better. Still some slight flexibility issues, and still an interesting shade of fluorescent purple where my veins zigzag across, but typing is no problem and lifting is no problem. Push-ups? Slight problem. But that too should pass.

I'll try to come back next week with some good stories and some pics of the new place and my new roommates. But for now, I'm gonna go get some things done so that I have slightly less to hang over me while I enjoy learning new and interesting things in a new and interesting city.

Have a good one.

Why I Heart Jon Stewart

2009-03-15T19:46:00.004-10:00

Okay, I know it's been awhile, and the update on me will be coming soon. I do have some newses as a matter of fact, but they're just going to have to wait a couple of days. But for now, it is very important to me that the following series of clips from the Daily Show With Jon Stewart exist all in one location, in order. And so here they are:

March 4, 2009:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

CNBC Gives Financial Advice

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

March 9, 2009:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

In Cramer We Trust

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

and:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Moment of Zen - Jim Cramer's Advice

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

March 10, 2009:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Basic Cable Personality Clash Skirmish '09

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

and:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Moment of Zen - Anchor War

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

March 11, 2009:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Battle

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

and, just for fun:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Daily/Colbert - Betting on Jim Cramer

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

And finally, the showdown. This right here, these here videos that follow, this is the reason, in three unedited parts, that I Heart Jon Stewart. Because this? This is f**king awesome. Without further ado:

March 12, 2009, Pt I:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Unedited Interview Pt. 1

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

Part II:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Unedited Interview Pt. 2

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

Part III:

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Unedited Interview Pt. 3

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

Oh Jon Stewart, I heart you. And thank you for saying this. It's about time someone did.

How did we celebrate Valentine's Day?

2009-02-14T22:04:00.003-10:00

Of course you're wondering, since Michael and I are such romantic fools. Well, it all started like this.

On Monday, at his Spanish club, Michael made me a card that said, "Te amo mi vida! Que' tetas!"

Oh, I love that boy.

And today (Valentine's Day), I went out walking. When I came back, Michael said, "Was your walk eventful?"

And I said, "No."

"Oh," he said. Then added, "That's good."

"Well," I amended, "There was the teddy bear slaughter."

His eyes grew wide. "Uh, that sounds eventful."

I shrugged. "I missed the actual slaughter event. I only got to see the carnage left behind."

And I told him how, out on the corner of our street, this teddy bear was laid out as though it had just been slain. And so, of course, we went back out there to see it. Together, because it's Valentine's Day. And also, I brought a beer along. And also, Michael brought a camera.

Note that we did not move the teddy bear at all. This was how we found it:

And so, yeah. That was fun. But, later, when we went out to go grocery shopping (as you do on Valentine's Day), we saw that the bear had followed us. Just outside our apartment is an empty lot, and the bear had come along to wallow in its Valentine's Day misery by our place. Again, we did not move the bear. This is how we found it:

When we came back from shopping, it was still there. And, dude, we just couldn't resist. This is how we found him:

(In this one, you can see our apartment--it's the one with the lights on just below the No Parking sign)

Oht noes! The cops have found Vagrant Bear!

Eh, just let him sleep it off...

So that was our fun tonight. Then Michael made his famous chili and we watched Battlestar Galactica. Who says romance is dead?

You better recognize (the voice)

2009-02-12T17:36:00.001-10:00

Hello. I’ve been mostly MIA for the past few weeks which has been a result of 1) not having very much to say, and 2) being disinclined to type very much because of my wrist injury. Which I may add, I lied about earlier. It actually did result from heroics and impressive death-defying feats of stunning caliber and near perfect quality. They would have been dead on perfect if only I hadn’t stopped to wash those damned dishes. Aw well, at least they were heroic dishes.

The exciting thing, though, is that today I have activated my windows voice synthesis software which allows me to speak into my headset and words appear on the screen. No typing is necessary. Which is totally awesome because typing sucks right now. Which totally sucks because typing is just about all I have to do anymore, between class and thesis and work and… Oh yeah! My favorite mode of relaxation! Writing stories.

So I’m going to give this software thing a go. So far today I have used it for work, and now I’m using it for a blog entry. And more or less, so far so good. There was the whole “pulled in tree" — "blog entry” fiasco of two sentences ago, but I managed to fix that just nicely. Heroically, even.

So what exactly is up with my wrist anyway? Well, one month ago I heroically punctured my wrist while washing dishes. That healed within a week, no problem. Except for the problem of a huge, painful, itchy, frustrating red welt appeared in its place. The campus clinic Dr. Could not tell me what was wrong with it and so eventually sent me to a German tall adjust who could. (I like Dr. Could, I’m sure you can figure that one out. I also like the German tall adjust, which was supposed to be dermatologist in case you were wondering). The German dermatologist, who I don’t think was German, told me I have a keloid scar and he gave me a steroid injection.

This was on Tuesday. I’ve been wondering ever since then why the hell anyone would ever abuse steroids. There are far less painful drugs out there. Find one of them. In fact, I will go ahead and suggest pot because anyone suffering from ‘roid rage could really use a few hours in front of the TV with a bag of cheetos.

That’s really all the rest of the story. It hurts again. And it’s itchy. And it’s driving me crazy. But nothing terribly interesting. Oh, except that my once-again-reduced-gripping-ability cause me to spill coffee all over my lap yesterday at work. Which very nearly made me cry, because not only did I look like I had pissed myself, at work, but that coffee was supposed to have gone in my belly.

We also have a new leak in our ceiling which is dripping directly into the bathroom light fixture. Unfortunately for the sake of the story, it did not explode or cause mayhem or even act heroically. It just started happening, and now we’re waiting for the roofers to come patch up the roof.

Happily, though, class and thesis and work are all going very well. I am well into the interview portion of my thesis, and it is so awesome. I love talking with people about their knowledge and experiences. This has got to be the absolute best part of being a research psychologist. I absolutely love this.

Except for the not being able to type very well part, which I’m in the process of rectifying, I am really enjoying the semester. And I’m still holding out some hope that I will manage to graduate in May—though rational expectations are still pushing the toward graduating in December. But ah hell, rationality be damned!

I’ll update again either when I can type again or when I have a better hang of the software. But right now my throat is starting to get sore. My voice is tired. And so until we meet again, just imagine exciting heroics and death defying feats of spectacular proportions, or at least dream of a kinder world in which there are no dishes to wash.

Heroics at Burning Orphanages Not Included

2009-02-01T17:20:00.003-10:00

Hey y'all.

So, some of you may be wondering why I haven't posted in awhile. Others of you know already. Yet others find they don't care too much either way. And still others are too unobservant to have bothered noticing that I hadn't updated for the last some amount of time.

Well, one of my excuses is that I injured my wrist during a freak dishwashing accident. Yes, dishwashing. I was not injured for a good reason, I was injured for a non-reason. Here's the whole story. The scoop, if you will.

I was washing dishes. The handle of the mug I was holding shattered, and somehow the force of the break caused me to smash the intact mug (including the little nub of the handle) into my left wrist, causing a puncture that bled a lot and scared the hell out of me. I ran around like a crazy woman for awhile, cleaning out my new wrist hole in the bathroom sink while still holding part of the mug handle. But eventually, I settled upon wrapping it tightly (my wrist, not the mug handle) in cotton and runners tape and hightailing it to the campus clinic to let someone professional decide if I needed stitches.

I didn't.

But they did pull the skin back together with those sticky plastic thingies, and give me a nice huge bandage running longways up my wrist. So, rather than walking into my psychology department like that, I decided to wear Michael's carpal tunnel wrist brace over my bandages. Call me vain or paranoid (and Gina did), but I had a feeling that carpal tunnel wouldn't peak the interest of psychologists the way that a blood-tinged wrist bandage might.

Eventually (after about five days), the wrist brace took a functional turn. The puncture had healed nicely, but I had bruised my tendons badly enough that when I would unthinkingly grasp something, it would hurt like a mofo. Wearing the wrist brace around reminded me to be careful, and it held my wrist still and allowed me to heal. Another two weeks has passed. I have nearly full wrist mobility back. It no longer hurts to type provided I have a pillow or cloth underneath my wrist, and I can even pick up fairly heavy things without pain. Usually.

But alas, the wrist saga continues because now it appears I have an infection or something under the surface. It's driving me crazy. It itches like madness and when something touches it, all of my wrist senses flare up... well, okay I only have the one sense in my wrist. But still. Flares up. Back to the doctor tomorrow for antibiotics or something.

Less exciting, but more interesting news is that I've started data gathering for my thesis. I've interviewed several people already and I'm in contact with five more. Interview on Wednesday. Going back to Kauai again soon. Now that I can type again, I'm about halfway through transcribing the interviews I've already given. This is absolutely fascinating stuff. I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait to write it all up and become a Psychology Master. Which may or may not happen in May.

I've turned in my application to graduate (with Masters... I'll still have a PhD to go after this) in May. But, I don't know yet if I'll actually be able to finish my thesis before the deadlines for Spring commencement. So I may still have to defer and get my Masters in December. Either way, it will be a whopper of a surprise to me if I don't have a Masters this calendar year. Huge HUGE major things would have to happen to keep me from finishing this, this year. I'm not trying to tempt fate, I'm just saying. It's all coming together now.

Oh, and also I learned that since the Civil Rights Movement, African Americans are the fastest moving minority into the middle class. As my professor (Ashley Maynard, awesome woman) says, it's not fair to count what happened before Civil Rights. But since my people stopped openly blatantly purposefully oppressing them, African Americans are in fact making great strides. This doesn't mean, of course, that we can now stop working for social justice, just that people who wonder (sometimes with snide intent) why things never change can stop wondering. Things are changing.

And oh man, I wish I had known this when I still lived in Tennessee. I kinda wanna look up every bigoted arse I ever got into it with and give them a good whatfor. Not that I didn't back when we were into it. Just, now I have a little more ammunition.

Like you, guy I argued with in Waffle House that day because you were such good friends with the KKK. Suck it.

Everyone else, have a great day!

Synopsis

2009-01-05T09:56:00.001-10:00

So what can I say? 2008 is done. 2009 is here. I had a good year in 2008, actually. Ups and downs, sure, but I would say at the very least all of it was interesting and eventful.

I walked with a cane for six months.

I had a miraculous physical therapy recovery from cane-walking.

I testified before the state legislature several times.

I started a worm composting bin.

My worms were raptured.

I spent six weeks on the Big Island helping kids find their way into college.

I went to North Carolina to present at my first conference.

I met my nephew in Memphis.

I went to Thailand to help smart people figure out air pollution problems.

I proposed my Masters thesis.

My brother proposed to his girlfriend.

She said yes.

My brother glows now.

My family came up to visit (except Mary who has my little nephew at home--but next time).

I got a new job, which I love.

I made some movies with my writing group.

I flaked out on my writing group entirely during my semester-from-hell.

I took ukulele lessons.

There's more. I'm sure there's more. This was an eventful, busy, crazy, stressful, awesome, interesting, exciting, wonderful, frustrating year. I don't know that I went into 2008 with such high hopes. I think that very probably, 2008 blew out all of my expectations. I'm totally down with that. 2008 was great. That is totally a year that I don't feel I wasted or failed to live or suffered through or that somehow passed me by. And I was tired, so very very tired by the end of it. But looking back, it was totally worth it. If I had it to do over, I would have done everything the same, except that I would have coughed up the money to bring Michael over the Big Island to play with me a couple times during the summer. I missed him so much. Though, true, the absence made us closer later on.

As for 2009, I have a couple of resolutions. Two, actually, that I can think of. One is to join up as an active member of Sierra Club now that I can walk again. I love walking. I love hiking. I wanna do that. So I'm gonna do that. The second is to have more fun. I intend to go out with friends and relax and have a drink and go places with music and to be sociable. I don't want to get lost in my semester again like I did this fall. Of course, this fall *was* special circumstances with all the stuff I crammed into it. But I don't intend to cram that much into spring semester, and that means that I can go chill with my peeps from time to time. So I'm gonna.

Other than that, I intend only to live life. To take it as it comes. And who knows, maybe I'll get another badass year this year. But whatever, I'll take it as it comes.

peace, y'all.

Off day...

2008-12-13T21:16:00.000-10:00

As in "day off". Whew! I just love the sound of that.

I woke up early with a migraine. I think that all the excess emotion last night surrounding having finally finished my semester set off some sort of weird chemical reaction in my brain that churned around and eventually came out pain.

As a side topic, Michael said to me about a month ago, "I'm glad I'm not the type to get headaches."

"What do you mean?" I said.

"I'm glad I don't get headaches," he clarified.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"I mean I'm glad I don't get headaches."

I've been with this boy nearly a decade. At that moment, I realized that I could not remember a single instance of him complaining of, or even mentioning in an off-handed sort of way, ever having a headache. In all honesty, the concept of 'never getting headaches' is so foreign to me that it had never occurred to me that people existed who didn't get headaches. And so, I stared at him, blinking, and allowed seconds to pass while I contemplated this new idea.

"You don't get headaches?" I said.

Here, even still, I was thinking the phrase "not that often" would be included in his response. I thought I was stating the extreme and that he would laugh and concede a more reasonable line.

"Well," he said, "I think I might have had one or two, like while I was sick or something."

He thinks he might have had a headache sometime while he was sick. Or something. He thinks. What?! How is this possible? We clarified this many times. Michael doesn't get headaches. In reality, he doesn't get headaches. Lucky bastard.

Anyway, I got up early today, took some naproxin, went back to bed. Got up a little bit later, took some more naproxin, and grumbled about my headache. But you know, even with a budding migraine, I still couldn't help but be giddy with the idea that this was the first of many days to come in which I am not in the Fall 2008 semester. So happy.

Michael made me grits. It turned out that this is a miracle cure. That, plus naproxin.

Now, deadening migraine pain (for those of you that don't get them) opens you up to some peculiar sensations. Because while the pain itself dulls, all the migrainey things that go along with the pain remain. Light sensitivity. Sound sensitivity. Well, heightened sensitivity in general. Intermittent nausea. Lightning flashes inside my eyelids. The feeling that someone put a little extra stuff inside certain parts of my head and there's just not enough room to accommodate. Fun stuff like that. It's actually kind of interesting to experience all that but without all the pain. It's certainly way better than when there is pain involved.

Today, being my first day of freedom from the hectic craziness that was the Fall 2008 semester, was going to be a good day. And it was. I took two very long walks. During the first, I went to the public library and checked out three novels that guarantee fun without all that tedious "thinking" business. It was morning still and acting out some pre-storm weather in which a pleasantly cool wind flows about your highly sensitized skin, and rainclouds have gathered but it's still too bright for your light sensitive eyes for you to take off your sunglasses. Really, it felt awesome. I felt... free.

Later in the afternoon, I took a long, slightly less well-timed walk to a guitar shop about a mile and half? two miles? from my place. In the rain. Storm hit about halfway there. I watched it coming up the street, heading right for me. I got soaked through, even with my umbrella, and even catching a bit of shelter beside a tree when the rains really came down. I also got my guitar strings.

Walking in rain is fun stuff. It is not, however, as fun as it was when I was three. Earlier, while I was home, a downpour erupted and so Michael and I went to watch from the front door. The kids in the neighboring building shrieked and ran off the street to some shelter. But they quickly grew bored of the shelter and ran back into the street to splash around in the huge puddles that were forming, dancing around and shrieking and jumping up and down and kicking water.

"Man," I said, "Puddles were so much fun!"

"Yeah, I know," said Michael. "They were awesome."

Those kids knew how to have a day off. But so did I. I've got a newly strung guitar. I've got a book halfway finished. I've got two long walks under my belt--the first and second long walk I've taken in I don't know how long. Maybe tomorrow, if the weather's not entirely crappy I'll go down to the beach and reacquaint myself with the ocean. Maybe tomorrow, even if the weather's crappy, I'll go down to the beach anyway. Ooh. And maybe I can find someone to have a beer with me.

Yeah, I definitely like this part.

I have never...

2008-12-12T17:45:00.000-10:00

I have never before cried with relief when I finished a semester. Just now, not ten minutes ago, I finished my Statistics final. Earlier today I finished my Qualitative paper. Earlier this week, I successfully proposed my thesis. Ten minutes ago, I flipped off my stats book and exam, declaring with great joy various anatomically impossible (seeing as how they have no anatomy) things they could go do with themselves and each other. And then I laughed. And then I cried.

I made it. I FUCKING MADE IT!!!

This semester has actually been a really great semester in a whole lot of ways. I loved my Qualitative Methods class. I learned so much. I got to practice things I've been dying to learn how to do. And despite how much I now hate statistics, I did learn a lot in that class as well. I learned to hate statistics in that class. I used to enjoy it. But I learned other, more useful things too.

I proposed, was accepted, and presented at my very first professional conference. I got partially funded to go to the mainland to do this. I got to visit my family, meet my nephew, speak at a high school, and then present at a conference. I started a new job that I love. It's a busy job a lot of times but I get to do cool stuff, and this job, over the next two and a half years, will train me in every step of culturally responsive school intervention. That may not mean anything to you, but I'm still thrilled about it. I had an opportunity to go to Thailand fall into my lap. I got to attend a workshop of smart people sitting around trying to figure out how to solve the roadside air pollution problem. I got a bonus trek into Japan. I made new friends. I wrote 4/5ths of a nano novel. I got my thesis proposal together. I got my thesis committee together. I got my thesis committee to approve my thesis proposal. I did oogabs of IRB paperwork stuffs, and got my IRB proposal in as well (coming soon: how that went). This has been a great semester.

But that's a whole hell of a lot of stuff to cram into four months. I feel triumphant. I feel relieved. I feel beat. Absolutely beat. But damn it, I made it. Four days early, I made it. Oh man. I think I'm going to cry again.

The Halfway Point

2008-12-07T19:29:00.000-10:00

I am halfway through a two-week-long period of massive insanity. Two weeks. That's nothin'. I've been telling myself this several times a day for the last week. And as I x my way through my To Do List From Hell, I've been feeling more and more confident of my ability to do even this, for only two weeks. I will stand triumphant over these weeks. They will be spent, strewn across a half-month of my past. I will conquer.

This next week was looking pretty good yesterday, because I was focused on a to-do list that included a paper and a thesis proposal. Huge friggin' things, but heck, they're only two things. I can do two things in a week. I was, of course, ignoring my stats exam. Because I wanted to ignore my stats exam. I'm not going to start on it until Wednesday, so I figured I need not worry about it until then. Best to focus on the paper and the proposal.

The paper is near done. First draft, check. Now comes the nail-biting period of review by my interviewee. God, I hope I got it right.

So that leaves thesis proposal. And oh yeah, the stats exam I'll be getting tomorrow. Gah! The fear comes. Sure, those are only two things, but they're two huge friggin' things!

Nonetheless, I shall conquer. I shall make proclamations that make me sound like a violent emperor even though I'm a pacifist socialist. I shall... whatever, take the rest of the night off. I'm beat.

So, seen any good movies lately?

Spring Fever

2008-11-25T17:26:00.001-10:00

So, not to brag or anything, but Honolulu weather in November is just like Memphis weather in May. I've got Spring Fever, and I got it bad.

May in Memphis is the point at which, finally, the many long several days of cold weather ends a few months ago. The air is wet and windy with thunderstorms and grass and budding vegetation and huge fat clouds and possibilities streaming like the stray spiderwebs that blow through the air.

November in Honolulu is the point at which, finally, the many long several months of hot, dry summer ends a few months ago. The air is wet with hazy misty rain and random storms that pour and humid warmth and strong winds that carry driplets from the clouds over the mountains several miles away. My hair flies in all directions and it's warm but not hot and it's humid but not muggy.

May was always my favorite month. The weather is perfect and people give me presents. November here is pretty awesome too.

Fall is the new spring.

Back Again

2008-11-15T12:10:00.000-10:00

Hey everyone, I'm home! I'm still in the process of recovering from my trip. Been back a couple days already. I've been sleeping intermittently, sometimes for very long stretches of time, and my body's been aching. Kiriko tells me I need to get some sunlight, so that's one of my goals for today. Ooh! I can actually go for a long walk along the beach! Cheers.

Anyhoo, I intend to give you all the lowdown on my trip, which was quite awesome. As I told a number of you already, participating in things like this (smart people getting together to figure out how to change the world) has been and still is one of my super-happy goals for life. I had thought maybe in ten years I would get chances like this one that fell into my lap about three weeks back. Joining this trip was fast and easy and completely unexpected. I responded to an email and six hours later I was getting ready to go to Bangkok. All very fortuitous for me.

The flights over were very long, but one thing I discovered was that if you want to eat some decent, or even good, airplane food, you should go to Asia. Flights in Asia cater to a clientele with wholly different tastes than flights within the United States (which seem to make you pay for your food nowadays anyway). But flights to and around Asia serve foods that taste actually quite good if you happen to own an unsophisticated American palate. Which I do. So that part was fun.

Three of us grad students from UH arrived in Bangkok after midnight. We took a cab to the Asian Institute of Technology where we were staying, and it was at this point that we realized just how far outside of Bangkok we were staying. We had single rooms that were modest but comfortable. And, granted, I'm used to living in the lap of poverty, but I thought my room was quite good.

Carrie, Shem, and I went into town the next day. We managed to take basically every form of transportation that was available, excepting riding on the backs of motorcycles even though everyone kept telling us we should try it. But we road in boats along the canals, along the river; rode in tuk-tuks, which are small covered cars with open sides that zip in and out of traffic; air conditioned buses; non-air conditioned buses; taxis; the skytrain (which was very smooth and really, one of the nicest trains I've ridden); and this thing that was basically a pick-up truck with seats installed in the bed that people would pile into (sometimes hang out of) for shorter rides to places the major buses didn't go.

In between these transportation experiences, we got to see a few temples which are really rather incredible. Bangkok is a contradiction of aesthetics. The city part of the city, that lines the streets and weaves in and out of the nice hotels and temples, is crowded and dilapidated and dirty and vibrant. The smells alternate between luscious aromas of good cooking on the streets, incense wafting from temples and shrines, and car exhaust. People are everywhere, bustling about, streaming rivers of pedestrians and automotive traffic. Anyone will speak to you kindly, even if they don't speak your language. People are quite happy to communicate by smiling and pointing. And then you enter a temple or a shopping mall or a hotel courtyard and all traffic ends. The smells are gone. The crowd is gone. All that remains is the quiet and clean beauty of ancient spirituality or modern architectural comfort. I found very little bridge among these worlds. There was no Thai feel to the shopping malls. There seemed to be a cultural disconnect between the markets and the temples, as though two different Bangkoks were occupying the same space. One of them held its ancient and pristine beauty. The other was rapidly industrializing.

Of course, this could just be me. In fact, I said this to several people at the workshop and no one nodded emphatically and stated, "Yes, I know what you mean." People did seem to agree very readily, though, when I told them how I liked Thai beer.

We got a tour of AIT from a couple of the students in the Environmental Engineering department. I never did hook up with the Gender and Development department, but I'm sure that was just as well. It was a pretty packed trip and I did appreciate my downtime. The tour we got showed off the main campus buildings -- places to eat, the bookstore, the convenience store, the library -- and the Environmental Engineering department and all its technological glory, very little of which I understood. I mean, I understood the point of the machines they showed us, but when they went into detailed explanations about how they worked, I tended to space out and think happy thoughts of nested ecological culture and community microsystems and macrosystems. (Really, I try not to use jargon too much in my community psych stuffs, but here I felt the need to assert that I'm smart too, even though I didn't have much of a clue what those guys were on about)

:)

That afternoon, and a few other times during the week, us grad students separated out some time to get our homework done. Gina, you'll like this part especially. We would go off into our separate rooms with various lists of what we wanted to accomplish. And, well, I was the only one who did it. Actually did my homework. While I was in Bangkok. The others would wind up resting, or surfing the internet for post-election news, or watching BBC, or all of the above. But not me. I'm so anal that I took no rest. Well, I rested by reading about qualitative research methods and working on my thesis proposal re-write. But at any rate, it turns out that yes, it's just me. But, you know, play to your strengths, and all that.

The workshop itself was quite an experience for me. The official title was, "Near-Roadway and On-Road Exposure to Air Pollution: Risk Communication and Decision Making" which doesn't acronym very well. The purpose of the workshop was to get a bunch of experts in the field together and figure out what we know and what we don't know regarding roadside air pollution, and then to develop projects from that which would help to direct future clean air initiatives (as opposed to Bush's Clear Skies Initiative, which I consider to be one of clean air's greatest nemeses). This workshop was a pre-event of the Better Air Quality conference held in Bangkok starting the day after the workshop ended. BAQ is held as part of the Clean Air Initiative - Asia, which as far as I can tell really is working toward making the air cleaner.

The first day and a half of the three-day workshop consisted of presentations. This was the "What do we know?" section of the event. Most of this had to do with the science of not only pollution levels, but of exposure levels to people. If the pollution level is high, but population level is low, then exposure level is low and therefore health risks are low. On-road and near-road exposure tends to be high in heavily trafficked areas, especially in population dense cities, and especially to the portion of the population that spends a lot of time in cars or on the side of the road.

A lot of the presentations dealt with specific pollutants that I had never heard of, but they all seemed to = health risks of similar type. Some of the people who know more about that stuff could argue endlessly about which pollutant they should focus on, but me, as a social scientist, I was far more concerned with the people portion of the event. These presentations and conversations had to do with when people are exposed, what level of risk do they perceive to themselves and to their children, what are people willing to do about it to protect their own health and/or to protect the air quality of their city, how do government organizations communicate what they know with each other and to the people, what can we do to help facilitate this communication and to aid in decision making of both government and populace? These were the juicy questions to me.

It was interesting to me to watch people discuss and argue these points and try to come to some consensus of where we should go next. The language was different and the "mission" was different, but the people behaved the same as the non-profit people I've seen discuss and argue points and try to come to some consensus of where we should go next, and the religious people I've seen discuss and argue points and try to come to some consensus of where we should go next. This really only furthered my idea that people is people, however our different values and beliefs and cultures and worldviews may lead us on strongly variable, unique, and oftentimes opposing paths. We are similar in our fundamentally human flaws. That is a universal truth -- we are not all people in our greatness. We are all people in our folly.

And sometimes it's really fun to argue about stuff. I enjoyed this process for the most part. Sometimes, though, it was really quite tedious. Especially when people would get caught up in trifling details of the semantics of the project when we were still trying to figure out broad arcs of purpose. Several projects and papers did come out of the workshop. I haven't yet figured out if I have a place in these, and if so, what it is. I'll update on that if/as it happens.

Roadside air pollution is in a way tangential to my goals of working for social and environmental justice, but in other ways, it aligns well. It would be neat to have some place in what is to come. We shall see.

The final step of this trip began the night before we left. I had a "grad school moment". Shem said, "Did you know that we have a seven hour layover at Narita?" My first and immediate thought was, "Oh good, I'll have more time to work on my thesis." Shem must have seen my eyes light up because he said, "Yeah, we'll have time for a quick trip into Tokyo." To which I thought, "Oh, that's a much better idea."

Still, it took me about five hours to realize that my original reaction was in any way abnormal or "grad school moment-y".

So, yeah, I got to see Japan! Total bonus trip. We really had just enough time to take the train into Tokyo, eat dinner, walk around a very little bit, and take the train back. We got to the gate less than ten minutes before boarding. We were held up at security because our boarding passes failed to mention the fact that we were flying from Bangkok to Honolulu VIA NARITA! Looked like it was a direct flight. But it all worked out.

And, total bonus trip into Tokyo!

Japan is so cool, and so very, very Japanese. In the rural areas we passed on the train, in Tokyo, everything about the place screams, "This is Japan!" There was no aesthetic contradiction, though there were varying levels of technology and development. All of it, though, all of it was Japanese. I loved Japan and really wish I had more time there to get a fuller experience.

We ate dinner at this curry place. Apparently, a lot of restaurants have machines that look like vending machines. The menu is pictured. You punch in your order and feed in your money and then out pops a ticket that you give to the cook. Oh, and it was tasty! Also, I had this canned alcohol thing that was saki and grapefruit juice. I only finished half and was quite toasty by then, but it was really good and not syrupy sweet like a lot of fruity mixed drinks I've had before. We met some really nice people, and a crazy guy in the train station who talked about starting a revolution in Thailand and sold us handmade books of haiku he'd written. I lost my umbrella, but I like to think that that guy found it and is carrying it around Tokyo as we speak.

Then we boarded the plane and I thought, "One more leg and then I'll be home. And then I'll get to see Michael again." And granted, I'd been up for about two days at this point, but that thought made me so happy I cried a little.

Melodi picked me up from the airport 8 hours later. She had also dropped me off, and had made me a travel pack with handwipes, a neck pillow for the plane, ginger candy, a security pack to hold my money, and Emergen-C. When she dropped me off at my place, I intended to sleep a couple of hours and then go to class. She said, "Maybe I'll see you then, or if you decide to sleep, I'll see you some other time." I thought, "No, no, I'll be there, of course."

But then I woke up an hour before class and found myself unable to function. That whole "putting on clothes" thing had me stumped for over twenty minutes before I gave up with the job unfinished. I went to get a glass of water, but couldn't figure out which cup in the cabinet I should drink out of. So I gave up on the whole "drinking water" bit too. Seriously, I was one incoherent mess. Time to leave for class came and I was still wandering around the house half-dressed and unable to decide how to get my school books out of my suitcase so that I could bring them to class. And so I decided that I would be no good to the class, would have nothing to offer a roomful of intelligent people. I went back to bed.

I slept 8 hours that day. I slept another 10 that night. And I've been pretty tired since then, though I'm getting better. Is this jet lag? Because it kind of sucks. But this, as all things, is temporary. So no worries. This was an awesome trip and I'm so glad I had the opportunity to go. It's crazy what life brings.

Have I mentioned lately how I'm the luckiest person on Earth? Because I totally am.

The missing day

2008-10-30T07:39:00.001-10:00

Wednesday, November 5th, 2008 is the 14 year anniversary of the day I first saw Michael Stipe in person. How do I remember that that happened on Tuesday, November 5th, 1994? Because I wrote about it way back when.

I had this whole series of articles and short stories about Michael Stipe, about how our love was destined, about how he had joined REM back when I was born in order to vent his frustration over the fact that his soulmate was an infant, about how his lyrics were secret messages to the world over this cruel twist of fate that would have him waiting until he was nearly forty for his soulmate to be legal, about how he "pretended" to be "gay" as a cover-up for this torment, about how I searched for him my true love and soulmate everywhere I went, including Westpoint (which had a good chance of housing him because there were so many bald men there) and the organics section in Kroger (because he's a vegan) and the men's room (because he's a... he) and my own back yard just to be sure because it's always the last place you look.

And then, it happened. I found him in the Memphis pyramid, on stage, "pretending" to sing "to" thousands of people, but really it was all just to me. That was on Tuesday, November 5th, 1994. Also, I remember it was on Tuesday, November 5th because I asked for permission to go in March. I made sure to say "Tuesday, November 5th", and it totally worked. Mom heard the "November" part, but not so much the "school night" part, and permission was granted.

Ha! That was the night that Paul (my boyfriend at the time) had his car stolen -- and then returned. It was such a piece of junk that not even thieves wanted it for free.

And you know, the fourteenth anniversary is the ivory anniversary. I don't really know what that means, but it seems important. So why am I going to miss this day? Because I'm skipping it. I'm jumping over the international date line, leaving Honolulu on the 4th, and arriving in Bangkok on the 6th.

I'm crushed. Not only will this be the fourteenth time Michael Stipe and I won't be celebrating our anniversary together, but I'm not even going to exist within timespace in order to celebrate it at all!

I mean, sure, I'll get to have two November 12ths, but pfft! Who cares about November 12th? Stupid November 12th. Always going on like "Hey! I come right after November 11th!" Useless friggin' day.

I'm going to Thailand

2008-10-24T21:22:00.000-10:00

Yup. It's official. I"m going to Bangkok. And that is the bigfrigginhugeexcitingohmygodIcan'tbelieveitwtfetc news!

This completely fell into my lap. An email was sent out to the Psychology Department saying that a grant was available that would send a social sciences student to Bangkok to participate in a workshop looking at the effects of air pollution on people. So I emailed back and said I was interested because one of my major research interests is environmental justice. Well, six hours later, I was more or less confirmed. Twelve hours after that, I was totally confirmed.

I'm going to friggin' Bangkok!!!!

Out of nowhere!!!!

I can't believe this just happened!!!!

I can't stop squealing like a twelve-year-old!!!!

And, it all happens in less than two weeks. I'll be going to Asia for the first time, crossing the international date line for the first time, participating in an international think tank of smart people trying to save the world for the first time, and it happens in under two weeks. I'll be heading out on the 4th (after I vote) (not that it matters in Hawaii whether I vote or not), will arrive there on the 6th. I'll leave there on the 12th, arrive back on... the 12th. I think it's like a 18 hour flight (I was wrong, Mom, what I told you before), so in total it'll be 8 days of travel; 6 days in Bangkok.

Did I mention that it's expense paid?

Did I mention that I'm the luckiest person on earth?

This is my super happy dream goal of what I want to do in life, and I thought maybe, MAYBE in ten years I'll get to do things like this once or twice ever. But then this just fell into my lap now! I can't even believe it. This is the coolest thing ever. Squealing like a twelve year old, all over again.

Re: the way good news changes your mind

2008-10-22T20:17:00.000-10:00

Wherein "changes" means "alters"

Something pretty damned cool has potentially fallen into my lap today. Between the minutes 10:00 and 10:01, my life potentially got a whole lot cooler. Then, between the minutes 4:35 and 4:36, the potentiality got a whole lot more probable.

Only thing is, it's gonna be another 24-48 hours before it becomes definite, or before it all comes undone. And the fact that it's leaning a lot toward definite has got me all squiggly inside, but I keep trying to force myself down to earth and trying to tell myself to be reasonable and not tell everyone I know about possible good news until... well, until I know for certain that I got some good news.

Also, the times listed above are approximates, but who really cares?

This evening, I was so excited with possibilities that I just could not sit still long enough to get my work done. So I took a trip to Longs, which is like Walgreens if you don't have them in your area. The sun had just set, but the sky was still lit. The air was cool and I could see rainclouds over Manoa valley, could feel a light mist dust against my face. Sometimes, here, rain blows over and hits you from other parts of the island.

By the time I got to the footbridge over Kapiolani, the mist was full-on. By the time I hit King St., the rain was falling. I was wet and frizzy and I couldn't stop smiling because of the possibilities, and I thought, good news changes your mind. The burgeoning night was alive and beautiful. The wind was sweet. I could feel my hair frizzing and maybe I looked like a crazy woman, but at least I looked like a kindly crazy woman because people smiled back at me as I passed them.

The tree in the park out front of Star Market, that tree that is big enough it could shade half a city block, it was loud with the songs of myna birds. Myna birds are the gangsta bullies that strut about and push all the other birds around. Sometimes they squawk, but sometimes they have very lovely songs. I've heard they can speak human languages too. Tonight they were singing lovely.

I'll know within two days if I have good news to share, or a near miss with which you can commiserate with me. I'm hoping for the former. Because, really, it would be so badass.

Regarding the "real" America

2008-10-21T18:53:00.000-10:00

This video is great. It's an interview with the Mayor of Wasilla, AK from The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, along with some other stuff about Wasilla spliced in with Palin's speaches.

So, apparently, senior McCain campaign adviser Nancy Pfotenhauer has gotten some flack recently because she said that people who live in Virginia but don't support McCain are not part of "real Virginia."

And then there's Palin always going on about "real America," which doesn't include liberals, environmentalists, or people who exercise abstract thinking skills. And then there's Congresswoman Michelle Bachmann on Hardball, below. Because this clip is rather painful to watch, I'll sum it up for you. Chris Matthews asks her many times, loudly and seemingly to her confusion and/or discomfort, if she thinks all liberals are anti-American. Eventually, she says yes, she thinks there should be a media expose about anti-Americanism in Congress.

We see this and Michael says, "McCarthyism wasn't that long ago. People were alive. People remember it. How the *expletive deleted* could this be happening again?"

Maybe there wasn't an expletive in his quote. Maybe that's all me. But I think it's a valid question either way. WTF, yo?

But less seriously, a community organizer with responsibilities, eh? Yeah, that's what I thought. Score one for the community organizers. Boo-yah.

Pride and Cubicles

2008-10-15T22:40:00.000-10:00

Well, Michael and I just watched the debate online at cnn. I missed the second one, but am definitely going to catch up on it now. This is mostly because I spent the whole debate wondering when it was that McCain became so crazy and incoherent. I disagreed with him on the first debate, but he didn't seem nuts back then. Is it just me? I didn't imagine it, right? He really did seem to be a mildly raving lunatic?

And why exactly does he keep accusing Obama of "spreading the wealth around" like that's a bad thing? I'm beginning (beginning-ha!) to suspect that McCain pals around with billionaires more than with the other 95% of the country, because I feel pretty confident that most people in the US are not opposed at all to some of those richies "spreading the wealth around."

Since I'm not a major news source, I don't feel particularly inclined to an even-handed analysis where I try to see the good in both sides' performances. Obama was great. And while I disagree with him on some pretty significant points, I couldn't help thinking, "You know, I would be kind of proud to have a President like that." I haven't been proud yet in my life of a President we've had. It was new and surprising to me.

But when McCain would start bustin' out with illogical and incoherent arguments about ___fill in the blank thing that has already been widely and roundly discredited___, I would just think, "If he gets elected, he'll be President. And then if he dies in office, Sarah Palin would be President." And then I'd feel that sort of sick desperate dread that has churned in my belly since I was first introduced to Dubya.

I think we all know by now that it would be an idle threat if I were to say I'd leave the country if McCain won -- after all, I stuck around both times Bush managed to find himself in office without being elected. It's just an idle threat. It would only serve as that extra incentive to get my PhD in record time and convince some international social justice agency to put me up in a foreign community-based job. Hell, I'd even take a foreign office cubicle. Hm... no, I take that back. I'd need a Palin Presidency to get me into a cubicle.

A short treatise on the importance of expeditious mail

2008-10-11T20:39:00.000-10:00

Today in the mail I received a large envelope with a clear plastic window revealing what was inside. On the back of the envelope was the following message:

"Dear Valued Postal Customer:
I want to extend my sincere apology as your Postmaster for the enclosed document that was inadvertently damaged in handling by your Postal Service. We are aware how important your mail is to you. With that in mind, we are forwarding it to you in an expeditious fashion.

The U.S. Postal Service handles over 202 billion pieces of mail each year. While each employee makes a concerted effort to process, without damage, each piece of mail, an occasional mishap does happen.

We are constantly working to improve our processing methods so that these incidents will be eliminated. You can help us greatly in our efforts if you will continue to properly prepare and address each letter or parcel that you enter into the mailstream.

We appreciate your cooperation and understanding and sincerely regret any inconvenience that you have experienced.

Hugs and kisses,
Your Postmaster"

Except for the hugs and kisses part, which I threw in there to lighten up an otherwise rather dour message. I mean, some valuable piece of my mail had been damaged, probably irreparably! Something important enough that my Postmaster was like, "Holy Shi Tzu! Valued Postal Customer is going to be well pissed at this inadvertent damage unless we enclose this document in a huge white envelope and forward it on in an expeditious fashion."

But back to the front of the envelope-- the side that has the huge clear plastic window that allows me to see what the inadvertently damaged document was, and how bad exactly was that damage... and... well, it's a Pier 1 imports mailer. Addressed to "David Suzuki Ung or Current Resident". The damage is that one of the little round stickers that holds the mailer shut is slightly torn. Otherwise, it's still a viable piece of junk mail.

'Or Current Resident.' Really. How important could any piece of mail possibly be if it includes that in the mailing address?

Well, no worries, my dear, kindhearted postmaster. The expeditious fashion of your big-envelope-mailin' has totally made up for any inadvertent damage done to my document. In fact, the novelty of it kept me well entertained for some moments today.

Hugs and kisses,
Valued Postal Customer

Things that fly

2008-10-08T18:54:00.000-10:00

So, there's this bird that flies down into the parking lot outside my place every morning and plays with its reflection on the top of one of the cars. Maybe it's trying to mate. Maybe it's trying to fight. Maybe it's trying to play. Maybe it's trying to take a waterbath in the shiny metal. I don't know. But it entertains us every morning. So this morning, I slowly slipped outside through the screen door and recorded it with our nifty digital camera.

In other news, the Conference went great. I really enjoyed hanging around a large group of Community Psychologists in the Southeast of the US. I had no idea there were so many of us out there, and it was nice to know that if I wind up getting a job round there after I graduate, that there is a community of us there waiting for me. I met some really great people. My talk went really well. I was quite pumped by the experience, and would definitely like to do it again.

Also I had a great time hanging with the family. I got to carry around Diego a lot, and that was cool because he's awesome. I got to hang with my sisters and brother. Got to meet Kate, who is also awesome. Got to go to school with Mom and speak to, and then with, a bunch of teenage girls about mission and vocation and social justice. Got to drink coffee with my Dad, and then he showed me how to make bullets in the garage.

So, yup. Totally successful trip. I'm dead beat, though, and I've been sleeping quite well these past couple days since I got home. I'll write something thought provoking later on. For now, about all I can handle is wibble wibble.

peace, y'all.

Why I am so happy.

2008-09-29T16:58:00.000-10:00

There, a little fun from Sara Silverman.

Also, things are good here. I'm caught up with stats. Michael got a new job at the Center on Disabilities Studies where I work. Very good wine was on a very good sale at the grocery store. My practice presentation at the Brislin seminar went well. And tomorrow I get to go home. Two days in Memphis. Get to meet the nephew. Get to see the family. Get to meet Kate. Get to eat Thai. Get to talk to high schoolers and Dorothy Day House people. Get to play with doggies. Then I get to go to Asheville to a groovy conference. Get to present at the groovy conference. Get to eat pizza and drink beer with a bunch of social science people before groovy conference. Get to spend over twenty hours in a small metal tube hurtling through the sky to the east, to the west.

Things are lookin' quite good for this coming week.

Except that I lied about the stats part... I have to do homework tonight, and then I'll be caught up. Damn stats.

But that'll all be done soon enough. Then nothin' but the fun times. Until next week...

Semester punch

2008-09-22T08:36:00.000-10:00

My semester is kicking my ass, charbroiling it, and handing it back to me on a platter. I am being served. Every week I go through a roller-coaster on the confidence-incompetence scale in which just before stats class (say, on Sunday and Monday) I feel royally incompetent. I feel dim-witted, thick-headed, and lost in translation. About mid-way through class on Monday, we have a break, and I go out in the hallway and have a "WTF was that all about" conversation with twelve or so other people and realize that I am not falling behind, I am on par with the rest of the class. I feel better. We can't all be in the bottom one percent of the class. I think, so long as I'm level, I'll be okay. This must just be the learning process for this class.

By the time Sunday comes around again, and I've been working it on my own for awhile, I'm back to the belief that I need to drop the class before I fail it and get kicked out of school because they didn't realize how stupid I was when they first accepted me.

Have I ever mentioned how confident I am in my ability to figure things out? I learned at some point that me not having done something before is not indication at all as to whether or not I can do that thing. If I want to figure something out, I generally can. And if I feel like doing it well, I can generally do that too. And I did well in undergrad statistics even though I had feared it and put if off until the last possible moment. I even enjoyed it. I'm not enjoying this. I'm not handling this feeling of mortal incompetence very well at all. Lucky for me, I know I'll be feeling much better tonight.

Even still, I haven't entirely convinced myself that I'll be able to stay in this class until the end. You really can't fail in grad school. I may have to a) take another class first to build up my stats foundation, or b) find another class to fill this requirement. Blech. I hate the idea of dropping. I want to figure it out, damn it.

Besides stats, I have Qualitative Methods, which is an awesome class actually. I am highly enjoying it, it is highly relevant to my field of work, and I have already learned a lot. I have already applied a lot of this knowledge toward my thesis work. The downside of this class is that it is a lot of work. Five or six books, plus articles, PLUS two research projects. Cool research projects though. Our job is to go out into the field and data gather like we were doing real-live research. One observation study. One interview study. Up to 25 page papers for each.

I can't help it. As overwhelmed as I am by the sheer amount of time and energy necessary for this class, I'm so excited by the idea of doing this stuff. I came up with a really cool theme for my observation study. I worked hard putting it together. I even worked hard to get it through IRB so that I could publish and people wouldn't have to worry about me having experimented improperly on human people. But then it collapsed.

I was going to do an observation study on customer and employee rudeness at fast food restaurants. I have this whole theory in my head-- "the Fast Food Model of How and Why the World Works the Way it Does", involving power imbalances, responsibility without control, and the ability for some people (customers) to carry on like assholes while other people "cashiers" cannot fight back because they'll get fired. I was going to observe and record actual interaction and maybe develop my Model into something workable and researchable. But then I went to pick up Michael from work. And...

It's too friggin noisy in fast food restaurants to observe and record quiet or nuanced interaction without basically invading people's personal space. And if I'm standing three feet away from you (the asshole), and I'm scribbling furiously in a notebook while staring at you, I will be influencing the way people behave with my oddity. I'll probably become the focus of interaction, so that people will not behave normally. I toured 12 fast food restaurants and a mall food court looking for a good place to observe. It apparently doesn't exist.

I'm so bummed.

I had so much energy around that study.

Ah well, Michael and I thought up something fun, that's not as interesting, but is kind of interesting, and is low-key, low-stress, and possibly entertaining. I'm going to observe tourists/vacationers in their natural habitat. That is to say, I'm going to observe people who are out of their normal home context to see if they really do seem to suspend their regular rules for operation. There are so many stories of tourists running into people, ignoring traffic laws, etc., because they are in an oblivious state of vacation bliss. They don't behave like regular people. My idea is that it is because they are outside of their day-to-day, so they stop applying day-to-day standards to their daily function. So they don't look for other people on a crowded sidewalk, or wait for the white person to replace the red hand. So I'll go watch this down in Waikiki to see what I can see.

Fun, yeah? But not exciting, and certainly not publish worthy. But that's cool. One less pressure, I guess.

My job is cool, but it's a lot of work. And on the one hand, it doesn't matter that it's a lot of work because it's really cool. I have a lot of interaction with very smart people who really care about what they are doing. I get to do and to learn really neat how-to-do-research things in an applied setting. This is learning on my feet, and I really, really, really love learning on my feet. The "lot of work" part only bothers me on the other hand, when I have homework and especially statistics. It's a lot to put into a day, and it makes me tired. Still, I don't think I would trade it. No, definitely not. I would totally trade statistics. In a heartbeat. I really like my job.

My thesis is coming along. I have to crunch a bit this week in order to maintain my relaxed schedule. That does make sense, trust me. It's actually not that much crunching, too, because I've gotten a lot of it done already. I need to sit down for... I think in four hours I could be done if they were four straight hours. When do I have four straight hours this week? Hmmmmm... I'll find it.

And of course, right now, I have a conference to prepare for. I'm in this inter-cultural seminar that meets on Mondays. Topics vary, presenters vary, it's really cool. I enjoyed it all last year and so far, I'm enjoying it again this year. I've been told it's a good place to practice things for conferences or for thesis defense, etc. It's a bunch of people from a bunch of disciplines who are knowledgeable about cultural topics and interested in learning from each other so as to understand different perspectives. I'm going to "pilot" my conference talk to them on Monday next week, and hopefully get some really good feedback so that I can give the best talk ever next weekend. Wow, that's really soon.

I've nearly finished putting my presentation together. Then I have to practice it a lot to make sure I can do it in the allotted time. I think it's a really good presentation, actually. I'd listen through it.

So, that's all the stuff that's going on with me right now. And that is why this semester is beating me to a bloody pulp. Well, for today. Just wait until after Statistics class. I'll be feeling much more positive and confident about everything then. :)

It is exciting times, these. And you know how I hate being bored.

One more thing...

2008-09-17T08:08:00.000-10:00

Waffle House love

2008-09-16T17:42:00.000-10:00

Oh yes. The most important news of my life right now is that I'm going to get to eat at Waffle House in a couple of weeks. Real, honest-to-goodness Waffle House! It's going to be so awesome. My life will be complete again. All of my Waffle House dreams will come true. I will feel the Waffle House love.

Also, on a side note, I get to go home. I'll get to meet my nephew and see my parents and siblings in person. I'll get to sleep in my childhood bedroom. I get to go home. I get to see Memphis again. I haven't been home in over a year. I haven't left the islands since we got here in July 2007. I haven't seen my family. I missed my sister's pregnancy. But now I get to see them all again.

Also, on another side note, I get to present at the Southeastern Ecological Community Conference in Asheville. I'll be presenting about challenges that mainstream researchers face when working with marginalized populations. I'm very excited. I've been to Asheville once before. I went to see the Vagina Monologues (featuring my friend Dustin's sister Jill). Christi and I drove like seven hours. I was like eight months pregnant. A bunch of us stayed with Dustin's family and it was a great trip. Asheville is a groovy little city.

Did I mention that I get to eat at Waffle House? Because really, that was a total red herring. I can't believe you fell for it. The important stuff came later.

Anyway, anyone who is either a fan of Isabella Rossellini, or bugs, or porn, or any combination of the aforementioned should go here. Just... trust me.

6 months shampoo free

2008-09-10T19:28:00.000-10:00

So, Separatrix (ahem, I'm not sure who you are-- do I know you?) commented just now on a 6-month-old blog I posted about my week-long and possibly longer experiment in dropping shampoo and conditioner out of my daily routine.

*flashback*

PastKati says: Yo, this shampoo/conditioner routine is whack, yo! So much plastic! I know, I'll start washing my hair with a baking soda solution and conditioning it with a vinegar solution and see how that works. I'll try it this week since it's Spring Break, so that if it doesn't work I won't become known as Bad Hygiene Girl.

PastKati says: (insert devilishly clever remark about how Bad Hygiene Girl would be an awesome supervillain).

PastMichael says: Your hair smells like mayonnaise when I stick my face in it and breathe real deep.

PastKati says: Maybe so, but so far, my hair has been completely tangle free.

PastJeremie says: Tangle FREE?! For the love of god, I don't know you anymore, person-formally-known-as-tangledhair.

PastJohn M says: Plastic is GOD!!!

PastAnna says: Doesn't vinegar come in plastic jugs?

*end flashback*

PresentSeparatrix says: Tell me more about this vinegar thing.

PresentKati thinks: Tangle free? Oh yeah! I forgot that this was not always my standard state of being! I must spread the word.

PresentKati then goes on to take another slug out of the wine bottle.

First things first, though. Yes, as it turns out, I truly am drinking wine straight from the bottle. I realized I had never before drank wine straight from the bottle. And I happened to have a bottle of wine with only one glass' worth left. It seemed like a good idea to see what all the fuss is about. You know, all the fuss we're always constantly overwhelmingly inundated by from major media sources who just won't stop going on and on about how great it is to drink straight from the bottle. Turns out, it's pretty awesome. Surely it's a psychosomatic effect, but three slugs over ten minutes have left me feeling Pretty Good.

PresentMichael: Yup, you're a wino now.

On to other topics.

I've been six months without shampooing or conditioning my hair. The absolute truth is that I think I've used shampoo twice during those six months... mmm... we don't have conditioner currently, so it seems less likely that I've used that at all. But for all intents and purposes, I've gotten off the sauce. Here are a few things I've learned regarding the baking soda and vinegar hair treatment:

1) My hair is just fine. Better, actually, than it was before. I noticed early on that I have fewer flyaways than in my shampoo days. It's perfectly clean. It's still soft and curly. I mostly wear it in a pony tail because it's hot here, but I think the switch has caused a general improvement in the state of my hair.

2) I prefer to use white vinegar. I get Heinz brand, but that's really only because at my grocery store, that's the only brand that comes in a glass jar. But then, there's not much of a selection there. I do not scent the vinegar solution any longer with herbs or tea. I did for about a month, but it never seemed to have much affect on the scent, so I stopped bothering. I also tried apple cider vinegar, based on the assumption that it would cause my hair to smell faintly of apples, but actually, it caused my hair to smell more like vinegar. White vinegar rinses out, and so long as no one places their face inside my hair and breathes deeply, there is no mayonnaise smell.

PresentKati: Michael, you've been married to me for slightly longer than six months now [editor's note: Kati and Michael have been married for six and a half years longer than six months] and I've been using vinegar these last six months... does my hair still smell like mayonnaise?

PresentMichael: (sticking face inside PresentKati's hair and breathing deeply) Neh, uh-uh. [editor's note: English translation is "No, your hair does not smell like mayonnaise and also you're the love of my life, perfect in all ways, and even better looking than Angelina Jolie.]

3) Going back and reading the original post, I was surprised to note that PastKati was pleasantly surprised that her hair was tangle-free. I was surprised to note this because it has been six months since I've had tangles. I had completely forgotten about the previous twenty-five years of hair-brushing turmoil [editor's note: PresentKati is 26, but PastKati was 28, so she more rightly should have talked about the previous twenty-seven years of hair-brushing turmoil, but she didn't want anyone to know how old she was back then. Can you believe she's turning 40 in just eight months?! She won't look a day over 30.] The point is... vinegar is apparently a much better conditioner than conditioner.

4) I discovered just this past week that the baking soda still washes my hair clean even if I have gel in it. This was the first time I've felt the need to put styling products in my hair since I made the switch. I used to put gel in in order to tame the flyaways and make the locks hold togetherish. But my hair has been remarkably well-behaved, or remarkably ponytailed. This past week, I started a new job and (perhaps on a related note) noticed how big my hair is when I leave it unponytailed. So I put gel in it to try to get it to stay put. It stayed put. The baking soda washed it out with no gel-residue.

5) Michael is still using the same bottle of shampoo that I had used six months ago. He has much less hair than me. I would have gone through that and probably five other plastic shampoo bottles, plus six conditioner bottles, during this time. Instead I've used I think three boxes of baking soda and three glass bottles of vinegar.

Total plastic consumption reduction: some hypothetical amount.

PastKati and PresentKati: Good job, us.

Mmmm... I think that's all I have to say. For those of you that think WinoKati is a fun edition to this blog, I would just like to say, "Listen to the media hype. Drinking straight from the bottle really IS all it's cracked up to be."

Sports coverage I like to see

2008-09-09T07:45:00.000-10:00

Herstory

2008-09-05T15:38:00.000-10:00

I don't know what to say.

Gina's birthday is the same as Joel's. We had a picnic on the beach to celebrate. She told me when I arrived that they had tried to make a "don't talk about school" pact, but that that seal had been broken long before I arrived. Immediately, I could think of nothing but school. Which made me realize that I can think of nothing but school.

School is actually a very diverse topic in my head, but out loud, I guess it's all just "school talk". In my head, Stats class is the least interesting to think about. After that, the second least interesting thing is the current state of my new job. On the other hand, the future state of my new job is very interesting. Most interesting, of course, is my thesis. Unfortunately, broad steps forward in that regard including spending days on end glued to my computer as I write up my lit review and proposal. Very exciting things for me... not so interesting for small talk. In my qualitative research class, I got to spend like 20 minutes talking about my thesis as an example of a case study. I was so excited to explain it all and get feedback. Even that story, though, is not a very good story. There's no meat to it.

I meet with my advisor on Thursdays, right along with the other advisees Andrew, Izaac, and Keiko. Yesterday, Keiko was talking about her job and saying how nice it is to have so much trust put into her abilities and efforts. In previous GAships, she was used as 'two hands'. Two Hands, I thought. I like that. It's a particularly meaningful idea to me because currently with my job, I am Two Hands. I make copies and scan books into this text-to-speech software. I'm doing this because the grant I was hired to work under has not yet started, and there is this other grant that just lost two GAs that needs some tying up of loose ends. It'll be no more than two weeks, I'm assured. Two weeks of mind-numbingly dull work.

Except. Except, first of all, I have a lot of things to think about right now-- and that sort of work is conducive to getting some thinking done. So I think about my thesis while I scan books, page by page. New theoretical and formatting breakthroughs abound. But that is still not an interesting story to tell.

Next week, too, I'm going to start working on a third grant that I was also not hired under. This is a short-term project as well. Disability Mentoring Day. I'll help recruit mentors and mentees, and organize things so that something happens. Also, I might be a mentor myself that day, seeing as how I have a job, and seeing as how my job is putting me through college. That's kind of an interesting story.

And then after that? After that, I'll get to work on the big stuff. I will definitely not be Two Hands for the grant I was hired to work under. I'll actually get to help develop and implement classroom intervention strategies. I'll get to help shape policy, and work face-to-face, one-on-one with actual real-life people. That may or may not make a good story, but I'll sure love it.

I have this other thing that's in the works too. It'll make a pretty good story, but it's not yet ready to be told. Well, damn. I hope it makes a pretty good story, at least. Right now it's all conjecture.

The main problem is that I find myself wondering, Is this what gradschool is? A time period in which paperwork and theory fill up my time until I have no stories to tell? Is this why all those old white guys in suits are so boring to listen to? Am I really going to turn into an old white guy in a suit, even if my research is on discrimination and community activism?

I'm going to have to get dreadlocks to stop this from happening, aren't I?

Ah well, that's another story for another day. peace, y'all.

Coming soon:

2008-08-22T20:53:00.000-10:00

Okay, here's a better picture of my new nephew, Diego:

Yes, the cutest kid currently a newborn. I just love looking at pictures of him, and I can't wait to meet him. I hope it's not too long. We shall have to do some conniving to get time and money to work out properly. Oh, it will happen.

In other news, school starts in three days. I have really enjoyed having this summer "off". Despite the six weeks of busy work, far from house and husband, I actually had a very restful summer. I got to read dozens of books, watch dozens of movies, and dozens of tv shows. And even during busy work stuffs while I was on practicum, I also got to do fun things like see a volcano in action, climb the technically tallest mountain in the world (if you're into technicalities, and view them similarly on this point), went horseback riding, swam in oceans (it was really just one ocean), and well, had a good time. And Michael and I have just been great. Before I left, after I returned. I can't get enough of hanging out with this boy-- reading on the couch or lanai, planting things, feeding worms, even boring things like grocery shopping have a decidedly relaxed and happy feel because I get to do them with my boy. I love being married.

Also lately this summer, I got to discussing my thesis with my adviser. I'm in the process of writing up a proper proposal. I feel... really close to getting this going. I got rather discouraged in the spring because I just kept working at it and working at it and getting nowhere it seemed. But now I'm getting somewhere. And I'm really excited about it. If all goes well, this should happen soon. Very soon. I feel all professional now. I hope all goes well. I'm ready.

And the latest good news is that I've got a new job. I was a Graduate Assistant last year with the department chair, and that was pretty cool because Ashley is a very laid back boss. The schedule was loose; she never asked too much; she always said thank you. Plus, I have mad respect for this woman. She does research in Chiapas. She's pragmatic and brilliant and has a very broad understanding of the social changes happening in Mexican villages in that area. So my job didn't have anything to do with that research. Who cares? I still got to work with her.

But this job I just got! I get to do research. And I'm starting right at the beginning of this new grant. We're going to be developing and implementing intervention strategies for Hawaiian schools to help keep Native Hawaiian teens from being tracked into special education classes when they don't have learning disabilities. There are a lot of reasons that kids have trouble learning. We're going to look at reasons that affect this particular population, and see what can be done. If I stay with this job, over three years I'll get to do research, development, implementation, and analysis! A whole bunch of boring words that excite me to no end! I'll get to do this stuff. And plus, parts of the job will be on the Big Island, so I'll get to go back now and again. I start next week. I can't wait.

So yeah. Classes. Thesis. Job. I'd be lying if I said wasn't nervous about the scope of what I'll be doing in these next months. But I'm excited as well. I'm settling into this whole "professional Kati" role.

But don't worry about it going to my head and changing me. I still have that same ripped up blue corduroy bag that I made when I was sixteen. I still don't match my socks. I still love a good fantasy novel. And I still cut my own hair. Because why mess with perfection?

I'm an aunty!

2008-08-11T17:16:00.000-10:00

Here's a picture of my nephew, Diego Hernan Delgado. 8 lbs. 9 oz. Born on this, the eleventh of August, 2008.

Isn't he a cutie? I'll upload a better picture when I get one. But for now, I'm assured this is what he looks like.

Yay!!!!

The funny thing about going away...

2008-08-07T17:22:00.000-10:00

No, no pictures just yet. Mostly, I just haven't bothered to sit down at my computer for a long enough time period to figure out what all I'm going to post, and where. It's not that I've been so crazy busy since I've returned (although I have somehow managed to get quite a lot done). It's mostly that I just... haven't... bothered yet.

I went to Honoka'a in March for a two day trip to have a good look-see around the town, meet some people I'd be working with, etc. Honoka'a didn't seem like such a small town to me then. And it didn't seem like such a small town when I went this summer. It didn't seem like such a small town during any of the six weeks that I was there. You know when it began to seem like a small town? When I got in a taxi cab at the Honolulu airport and told the driver to go to my place. And off we drove through the city.

Honolulu is a huge friggin' city!!!

I don't say this as someone who has lived in Chicago. When I moved here from Chicago, I was unmoved as to Honolulu's largeness. I say this as someone who spent the summer living in a town that you could walk from end to end in ten minutes. The contrast of Honolulu to Honoka'a didn't make much of an impression on me. But the contrast of Honoka'a to Honolulu most certainly did.

I spent the cab ride home with my face plastered to the window. Buildings. Huge buildings, towering up into the sky. In six weeks on the Big Island, even in Kona and Hilo, I don't think I saw a building taller than four floors. And I didn't even notice until I got back and saw these concrete leviathans marring the landscape, coiling out their monstrous reaches over near-infinity-long stretches of city streets, popping up in rectangular bulges of cinder block, glass and steel.

Seriously, there are roads here that are over TWO LANES WIDE!!! More than FOUR, even! And cars! Cars like you've never seen, all filled with people. And people on the streets, and in the buildings. Busy people rushing around or lounging about with their shopping bags and their designer drinks in paper cups and plastic bottles. Neighborhoods of houses spread far and wide.

I remember laughing once at this kid from deep Mississippi for moving back to his hometown because Southaven was too big for him. Dude, whatever your name was, I totally get it now.

The thing about going away and experiencing something completely new and different is that when you come home, there's this reverse culture shock. I feel it every time I go back to Tennessee. As much as we talk about TN, reminisce fondly or not-so-fondly, as much as I tell people about what it is like there, how they would love or hate certain things about it, as much as it is on my mind... it still surprises me to actually be there as opposed to not-there. So it is with city life. Five years now I've lived in one city or other. And before that a rather large town. And before that, yup, city! I'm a city person. But six weeks in this quiet country town and I'm struggling to adjust back to the noise, and the population level, and the lack of nature (compared to Honoka'a, not compared to Chicago where they have banned all nature).

It's weird here in the city. And loud. And tall. But the city has in it the boy I love, and that means that it's not all bad.

Some Photos

2008-07-17T12:43:00.000-10:00

I'll also have some video clips from the trip, but I won't be able to upload those until I get home for a series of technical reasons that are too boring to enumerate. At any rate, here is some stuff to look at:

THE SMARTEST TEAM:

And don't ask me why I'm dressed up like a tooth. There isn't a reason.

I'M HAWAIIAN NOW:

See? I have slippers!

And also, I know how to make leis!

WHAT A VOLCANO LOOKS LIKE RUNNING INTO THE OCEAN:

HAMAKUA JONES AND THE TEMPLE OF WHEEZE: THE SEARCH FOR THE GOLDEN INHALER, in which I play Villain Von Vog and set out on an evil quest to steal the Golden Inhaler and proove to everyone that asthma is all in your head. We'll also file these pictures under "I sure hope these aren't the best pictures of me that come out of this trip to Honoka'a."

The Cast!

Tutu Akamai talks story about the legend of the Golden Inhaler that is in the temple at the top of Mauna Wheeza.

Oh, she's so sinister! And Hamakua Jones does not like her moustache.

Yeah, I have no idea. But don't I look terribly attractive?

A confrontation with the Paniolo Kid regarding whether or not asthma is real.

Uh-oh, looks like asthma is real after all.

Ah, Dr. Brie Theasly to the rescue!!!

MY MISBEGOTTEN HEROICS (See story below):

The place.

Setting the Scene. Scary, huh?

Oh, even scarier!

This was one of the easier zigs. Some of them were just a line of boulders, including some of the zigs I decided to run up.

And, the man whose life I tried to save. Some hero I make. I guess I should just stick to villainery.

How to save a life:

2008-07-16T14:08:00.000-10:00

Step one, hike down a zig-zagging mountain-side path. On one side of you, there is a wall of rock and green. On the other side of you, there is a plummeting drop. Beneath you is a dusty, rocky, steep slope of boulders and dirt and dried leaves and pine needles. Going down can be a bit slippery in the really dusty parts. But you'll make it.

Step two, have lunch by the oceanside at the bottom. This step is the most relaxing one. You must be completely unaware of what is about to happen. Foreknowledge of the events and their outcome will spoil everything. It just wouldn't be the same.

Step three, begin the trek back up the zig-zagging mountain path. You'll be out of breath by the end of the second zig, but not terribly so, so just keep going. You'll be determined to get to the top without be wussy about it.

Step four, get really annoyed by the person above you who keeps yelling. What they hell are they yelling for? Don't they know we're out in nature? Don't they know anything about serenity? Don't they know this is a falling rock zone? Don't they know they're being annoying?

Step five, wonder briefly out loud if something is wrong. Your friends will laugh (with just a bit of nervousness--just a bit) and agree that they hope nothing is wrong with the annoying yelling guy.

Step six, suddenly hear, very clearly (and your friends will confirm they heard this too) the man yelling, "Help, help!"

Step seven, take off running like a cat on fire. You'll drop your bag for your friends to bring after you, and you'll run right the frig up the friggin mountain! In this step, you'll be yelling as you go, "Hello? Where are you? Hold on! Hello?" You'll be looking up into the wall of vegetation above you as you leap from dirt path to boulder to boulder to dirt path, running up a 30%ish incline. You'll be looking into the drop-off on the other side of the path, scanning for bloodied and unconscious bodies. You don't hear any more yelling. You are completely convinced that someone has fallen over the cliff. You are completely convinced that they were injured terribly while doing this. You are hoping beyond hope that you'll find this person and that there is something you'll be able to do. You'll run up one zig, up one zag, up a second zig, up a second zag, and turn onto the third zig. As you turn onto the third zig, you'll see a man up ahead of you.

Step eight, yell up to this man and ask if he heard someone yelling. When he says that it was him, and that he's okay, and that he hadn't yelled Help, but Hey and Hello and that he was yelling because his group is down at the bottom, with his baby but without water, and that the upset (desperation) you heard in his screams were from that and not from any dire mishaps, you'll laugh and half collapse on the mountain path. You won't be angry, you'll be so relieved because you had thought someone was dying, but no one is dying. You won't be able to draw a proper breath because you haven't run (much less run up a mountain) in almost two years. The blood will be pounding in your ears, literally pounding. You didn't know that that really happened. It feels like someone is hitting your eardrums with a hammer, in time with your pounding heart. But you'll laugh, and you'll chat with the guy in out-of-breath gasps for a few minutes until your friends finally reach you.

Step nine, sit down for a minute. You're going to be so friggin' tired and out of breath. Your friends won't mind waiting on you as you take multiple breaks during the rest of your trek up. At some point, you're going to stop feeling silly with relief. You're going to start feeling like an idiot for running up a mountain because some guy yells "Hello" by putting the emphasis on the "Hell" instead of on the "O". You're going to start wondering what you could have done anyway, since you're a skinny-ass-no-upper-body-strength-having girl and you were responding to what you thought was a grown man who fell over a cliff. You would have gone anyway, you decide, you would have tried even if there was nothing you could have done, but it occurs to you that you really weren't equipped to deal with the situation to which you were responding.

Step ten, think back to that How to Be A Superheroine book that you got as a gift a while back. Start thinking again about first aid certification, and how you had considered getting EMT training just so you could have it. Think about buffing yourself up so that you could lift, or at least drag, someone your own weight or heavier. Think about learning how to handle yourself in nature so that you'll be prepared to deal with potential dire situations.

Now, at this point, you're also going to think of that Friends episode where they hear a car backfiring, but they think it was a gunshot, and one of them has all these great epiphanies due to the "near death experience" of hearing a car backfiring. You think it's similarly ridiculous to be having all these thoughts on how you need to prepare yourself so that you can help other people, based on the fact that you thought someone was dying when they yelled "hello". But you think about these things anyway.

Step eleven, half an hour later, as you're beginning to cool off, it will occur to you that you ran up a friggin mountain. And that your physical therapist had given you specific instructions not to try running for at least another six months because it could retrigger your injury. But you did it. And your foot doesn't hurt. Take a moment to be happy you're not walking with a cane. It's so awesome to not walk with a cane.

Step twelve, and this is arguably the most important step, stop in Kawi and get some shaved ice. Rootbeer and blue vanilla will strike you as strange flavors for shaved ice, but you have a suspicion that if you mix them, it'll taste like a rootbeer float. It will. And it'll be really good. And after you finish it, you'll finally be cooled off.

Life is good.

Oh, and make sure to get a picture of the guy who's life you mistakenly tried to save. You'll see him a little bit later with his girlfriend and baby. Such a cute family.

The Day to Day

2008-07-09T11:32:00.000-10:00

In these short computer lab bursts, I find it difficult to think of things to write in my blog. I take life here on a day to day basis. There's not so much of "What are we doing this week?" It's more a "What's happening in the next couple hours thing?" This is perhaps a bit of a self-defence mechanism, because when i look at our calendar as a whole, i get caught between the two competing thoughts:

So much to do in so little time!

and

Oh my god, so much time left before I see Michael again.

Both ideas of too much time and too little time can overwhelm me a bit, so I take things moment to moment, hour to hour, day to day. For the most part, it's a steady schedule that is well balanced with fun stuffs, cultural experiences, and work.

We've had some crazy excitement here. I've now seen a volcano -- an active live volcano -- in person. I saw lava flowing into the ocean. I saw spurts and sprays shoot into the air. I saw that crazy red orange glow. It's awesome. I want to go to the Volcano National Park, because I hear that from there you can actually look inside the volcano and see the churning lava. This one "volcanic event" has actually been going off and on since 1983. I remember when I was a kid I had this idea that volcanoes erupted for a week-ish and then were done. I was kind of afraid I'd miss the action. But no, the action goes on.

My roommate Kristina went to the emergency room the other day because she was lightheaded and fell down. She talks about it like it was a brush with death, but really, she was out hiking a long, steep hill, in the hottest part of the day, with no water. She could have sat down to rest and drank a bottle of gatorade and saved us all a lot of time and energy. I haven't told her this, but I think she's been a fair sight over-dramatic about what happened. Of course, I wasn't there on the hill so I could be completely wrong, but the more she talks about it (and she talks about it a lot), the more I think she was overreacting. Ah well.

We've started meeting with the teens, both the new group who are going into their Senior year, and last year's group who are going to be starting college this fall! This is really cool. Because they don't have adults in their families who have been through the process before, it's a real help to them to have someone tell them step-by-step what they should do to make sure they get their applications, tests, finances, etc. all in order. It's so complicated to go to college. These kids are awesome for stepping outside of the norm and going after their degrees.

We also wrote and have begun practicing our skit for Asthma Camp. Our audience will be 6 to 12 -year-old asthmatics. Our play is Hamakua Jones and the Temple of Wheeze. I get to be the bad guy, Villain Von Vog who talks with a terrible German accent (since Indiana Jones villains are always Nazis). Mostly I'm comic relief, so I get to jump around like a jackass, claim that asthma is all in your head, and then have a terrible asthma attack because I don't mind the early warning signs. Fun stuff.

We're going to create the backdrop this afternoon, then practice some more tonight. It'll be great. Asthma Camp starts tomorrow. We'll lead the crafts session tomorrow night, and the skit is on Friday. This'll be a lot of fun, I think.

Next weekend we're going to hike up to the top of Mauna Kea and have a picnic under the stars. Oh, I can't wait for that. I'll have to layer up my clothes because I don't have proper warm wear anymore and this is the place in Hawaii where snow happens. Also, we're going to get to go to a taro farm next week and get some local cultural experience. Oh! And also, over the weekend I learned how to string leis! It's so cool.

I'll try to remember to bring some pictures into the lab so that I can show off all the cool stuff. But it may be a few more weeks yet before I actually follow through with all of that. But it'll be worth the wait. I've gotten some good shots.

peace,
kati

Aloha from the Big Island

2008-06-26T11:29:00.000-10:00

Hey y'all!

Here I am in Honoka'a. We don't have internet at home, but we have a computer lab we can get to, so I'll be able to give intermittent updates. Not too much has happened here yet, but here's a bit about where I'm at and what I'm doing.

My Quentin Burdick team is now comprised of three people. The fourth had to drop out because of a medical emergency. It was a sad story, but the important thing is that she'll be able to recover over the summer and get back to school in the fall. So, I'm here with Kristina, who is an Audiologist from California, and Erin, who is a Med student from Hilo (about an hour drive from Honoka'a). I'm the oldest and therefore wisest of the three of us, and they really look up to me. At least, that's what I tell them and I'm sure that the awkward silences that follow such proclamations mean that they're too embarrassed to admit how much they rely on my vastly superior life experience. I mean, I have several years more life experience than them. You can't fake this stuff.

Anyway, they're both cool, though not really into the whole "simple living" thing. Not that they have anything against it, just not what they do. So it surprises me sometimes when they want to go eat at restaurants a lot, and it surprises them sometimes when I bring reused plastic grocery sacks to the store with me. Not that either of those things is strange in any way... just a matter of what each of us are used to and not used to. But the most important thing is that they both enjoy food as much as I do, so I'm sure we'll be eating well.

We're working on updating The Binder right now. It's a user guide for high school seniors to guide them through the process of applying for college... all the stuff they'll need to do throughout the year. Last year's team made it. We're updating the info, plus rewriting it to be more user friendly. Figured that's a good way to upgrade on the awesome project started last summer.

We'll also be helping out with the Asthma Camp, including putting on a skit. Ours will be Indiana Jones and the Temple of Wheeze. Oh, and in addition to mentoring a new group of high school seniors, we'll be meeting with last year's group before they head off to college.

Man, this is the most boring entry ever.

Okay, we went down to Kona the other day and had some fast food sushi with one of Erin's classmates. Then he showed us how to get to a local office supply store, because I refused to let my team shop at Walmart. We actually got into a fistfight over it. Okay, that may be a slight embellishment to the story. It was more like they said, "We can go to Walmart." And I said, "Eh... is there anyplace local?" And they said, "I don't know." And then we asked Erin's friend and he called his mom, who's a high school administrator, and she told him where we could go.

Then, because we were in Kona we... no, we didn't go to the coffee plantations (not yet), but we did go to Kona Brewing Company and had some beer. We got a sampler, which was four small beers (equivalent to two pints). Erin was driving, so she passed up. I'm a lightweight, so I just had one. Kristina can drink a pitcher plus two beers by herself, so she had the other three. We all walked away not drunk, but I was pleasantly... pleasant. AND, the beer I sampled was Kona coffee beer. It was a porter that actually had Kona coffee in it. Very interesting. I'd say good even, but not something I would crave. I'd drink it again, though I wouldn't go out of my way to do so.

Coffee and Beer, married in a happy Kona union.

Also, I saw some old black lava fields. I didn't even recognize them for what they were at first, because I'd never seen that kind of thing in person. People would take white coral and write their names on it. Miles of black with white writing spread out over it. It's crazy interesting to look at. Got some pictures, but my camera's batteries gave out.

And I had left my swimsuit on Oahu, so I bought a new one from the Clearance rack at Kmart. And, I'm still doing PT for my foot. Ev gave me a workout schedule to do which includes squats and split squats, along with balance exercises and heel raises and stuff. I'm hopeful that I'm going to develop a butt, which'll be cool, because I've never had one before. We're not exactly close to any beaches, but I'm sure we'll get to some during the trip, and I'll be able to rock out my twelve dollar bikini and my PT-toned gluts. Ha, oh, and we live on a mountainside basically. Walking down mainstreet is a basically flat walk. Turning left or right off of mainstreet suddenly takes you on a steep climb or decline. Kristina walked a mile downhill (right) and back up yesterday and said she's really aching today. So we have a new goal of being able to walk the breadth as well as the length of the town by the time we leave, without getting winded or overly sore. The walk to the computer lab for instance -- it's only half a mile tops uphill, but it's a very steep uphill. This'll take some practice, but we intend to have nice butts to show for it when all is said an done.

And therein lies the benefit of having an all-girl team. If I was living with boys, no matter how metrosexual, I doubt we'd have come up with that goal for the summer. Oh, I mean, we have other goals too. It's just that that one is the most important by far. Also some other stuff about helping some teens be the first in their families to go to college and silly stuff like that. Secondary stuff. You know.

Anyway, that's what's happened so far, in these last few days. I'll update again when I get a chance, and something interesting has happened. Lots of love, kati

The Final Countdown

2008-06-17T09:23:00.000-10:00

Cue the synthesizers; it's time to dance.

I am awash with pre-trip jitters. It comes in stages, creeping in on me while I'm paying attention to other things. But I've learned how to deal with such things without going completely crazy, so I think I've been holding my own.

Stage One: Distraction. Inability to focus on important thing. Get sidetracked by unimportant details that really, truly, honestly don't matter at all. Fantasize about potential future events, activities, conversations... even imagine what sorts of thoughts I might be having at some hypothetical point in the future.

Stage Two: Frustration. It occurs to me that I can't get anything done and I feel like a loser. I try really hard to do something, anything, knowing from the beginning that I'm doomed to fail because in ten minutes I'll want to do something else, anything else. I get really bitchy and take it out on the closest person. Michael begins to wonder why I'm being so bitchy.

Stage Three: Realization. Not a genius for nothing. I have a knack for seeing patterns, even in my own behavior, though that can be trickier. I think, what's wrong with me? There's no reason for me to be so angry about burning my lunch. That doesn't normally piss me off this much. Oh yes! Pre-trip jitters! This happens every time! Embrace them, Kati! All will be right with the world again. I go apologize to Michael and he is kind enough to lie to me and tell me I was never really that bitchy.

Stage Four: Projects. Normally I'll start to make something creative, which I may or may not ever finish. That part doesn't matter. The important part is the doing, because it refocuses this extraordinary amount of energy that the universe is channeling through me. My projects this time are 1) reading a dozen books in two weeks 2) walking dozens of miles in two weeks 3) watching Babylon 5 again. The best part is that, because I'm about to go away for an unbearably long period of time, Michael and I have managed to make these projects interactive, with walks to the library, inconsequential discussions on the writing styles of various authors and how I'm better than them and would be a published New York Times best selling author too if only I would ever finish a damn book, and curling up on the couch to debate the theory, characters, and storyline of Babylon 5, which is just a great story.

Stage Five: Excitement. I dance about while cooking. I hop up and down in my seat while checking email. I can't stay put. I feel like I'll explode. By the end of the week, I'll be unable to sleep because there will be so much energy coursing through me, so many thoughts in my head that will refuse to quiet down. But I've gone without sleep before, and I'll remind myself (many times) that I should lay still and rest at least, and eventually I'll sleep again. I'll remind myself (many times) that it's okay to be tired and that I shouldn't be bitchy at people because of it. I'll remind myself (many times) that time passes quickly, that this'll be a great trip, a great summer, that I'll look back on fondly once I'm back in the arms of the man I love. I'll remind myself (many times) that though we'll be far apart, we'll still be married, still be the couple we are, we'll still communicate often. I'll remind myself (many times) that everything is going to be just fine, just like always. And then I'll remind myself to believe it. And for the most part, I will.

Stage Six: Lists. I know I'll forget everything, as unfocused as I am, so I'll begin to compile lists of things I need to do, and pack, and buy upon my arrival. While I'm anally remembering every possible detail of what I need to live, I'll conveniently forget that I'm a highly adaptable person and that no real harm will be done if I forget to buy baking soda that first day and have to resort to using shampoo on my hair. Then, I'll remember that about myself once I realize what it is I forgot and see how easily I subsequently adapt, and I'll feel a whole lot better.

Stage Six is scheduled to begin later on today. Right now I'm in Projects and Excitement stage. I swing back and forth between elated anticipation, and anxious apprehension. This will be a great experience. This will be six weeks away from my husband. How can both of those things be true at the same time? We've never been this long apart. I can imagine what the actual Quentin Burdick Practicum will be like... I've had experiences similar to that so I can anticipate a fair approximation of what that'll be like. But six weeks away from Michael? I have no standard for that. I don't know what that'll be like at all.

But I've made contingency plans. I'll be busy with work, but only for about forty hours a week. I'll be busy with my community for an unknown amount of time every week. We'll be creating a play for the asthma camp. We'll be wild pig hunting. We'll be horseback riding. We'll be taro farming. We'll be volcano seeing. And if there be time left for me to mope and feel lost and miss my husband, I have a new book to write. And I'm bringing thesis stuff to work on. And I'm bringing books to read. I will fill up every minute of my time if I have to. Relaxing things and fun things and creative things and important things.

Everything will be just fine. Just like always.

Remember.

A Modern Day Miracle

2008-06-06T09:57:00.000-10:00

Dear Past Kati,

Dawg, I got this whole foot thing sewed up!

Okay, okay. I keep saying that I'm not going to get my hopes up too high, but let me tell you the Status Of The Foot.

I put the cane up last Sunday. I have since walked dozens of miles. My foot has been sore, twinging just a bit when I walk uphill. But I haven't felt Actual Pain in over a week. I can go up on my tiptoes. Repeatedly. And it's sore, but there is no Actual Pain. Not then, not the next day. My Physical Therapist, Ev, does this diggy thumb foot massage every time I go it (a la this CPR instructional video). It's one of those exquisite torture massages that hurts but somehow feels good anyway because it pokes right at the root of the pain. On Tuesday, there was very little pain. Yesterday, there was none. Little sore twinges sometimes, but no Actual Pain. I said to Ev, "Are you going easy on me today?" He said, "No, Laura" (he calls me Laura for Insurance Purposes) "I'm just doin' what I always do."

I am so active on my foot right now, what with the PT exercises and the walking and... still it gets better. It gets better and better. I walk places and giggle because I'm Walking Places! Pain free. Cane free. Aw, it's just awesome.

In related news, Past Kati, remember those worms you were planning on getting so you could compost stuff? Well, they're doing great. And as a matter of fact, I just harvested out first batch of compost and Michael and I planted two tomato plants, basil and oregano, along with some mystery seeds that appeared mysteriously at the Free Store on campus. I can't wait to see what they are. The worms are doing great. They have gone forth and multiplied, and they're still really cool looking, all glowin' blue in the sunlight. Awesome.

Okay, maybe that news wasn't related at all.

Take care, Past Kati. You're gonna love Spring 2008.

peace,
Present Kati

p.s. Hey Past Kati, do you remember when we went to Ireland and fell in love with scones? It was that time that we hurt our foot so bad, you know, that we were just talking about, just now? Well, in The Future, you will learn how to make scones, and they will be good. The Interwebs can teach you how to make anything.

The Migraine Question

2008-06-02T11:19:00.000-10:00

And other questions as well.

I've been thinking a lot about food over these past months. Granted, I think a lot about food all the time, since I *am* a food enthusiast and all, but still... been thinking about it in different terms lately. Part of it came from my newfound obsession with plastic packaging and ways in which I can reduce my consumption of it (though I'm nowhere near cutting it out, nowhere near at all), and part of it came from a renewed interest in the chemicals going into my body and how they affect my body and wellbeing, and part of it comes from being kinda poor but really liking to eat tasty food and subsequently coming up with good cheap tasty food I can eat. Mmm, tasty food I can eat.

I developed this philosophy a couple months back that I call The Choice Diet. It's actually a philosophy that I've lived by most of my adult life (when I've paid attention) and I only call it the Choice Diet because it is most easily related (for me) to food, though it relates to all aspects of my life. The simplest way to explain it is with the following example.

I go out to a restaurant with friends and I have a menu before me. This is my idea of heaven. All these things that I can choose from that I can eat and it'll be awesome because food is so good. I decide that there are two dishes that are really sticking out to me as top contenders, for slightly different reasons. One is the fettuccine alfredo with, well, whatever seafood or poultry or sausage. Doesn't matter. They're all good and my mouth is watering with the idea of them. This dish will be so tasty and it'll fill my belly and I'll probably clap when it arrives because I'll be so happy to indulge in its awesomeness. The other is a tofu curry with rice and vegetables. (My fantasy restaurant has both dishes). It will also taste awesome but will lack that exquisite bad-for-you-ness that makes the first dish particularly super-awesome.

You know what I'm talking about.

There's something about indulging in food that is bad for you that makes you feel good. The bad-for-you food can even be of a lesser quality than its good-for-you counterpart, but somehow it'll satisfy you more. It's something about the combination of fat and salt and sugar that just explodes through your synapses, releasing endorphins or serotonin or I dunno what... but after eating that fettuccine alfredo, all is right with the world. Tofu and vegetables will also taste very nice. It'll also make me happy, but I won't have that initial burst of enjoyment that comes with eating a super-awesome but very bad-for-you meal.

If that were the whole choice, eating well would be much more difficult. Every meal would be a choice between eating good and eating well. Every meal would be a choice between enjoyment and will power. My will power is all right, but let's face it. I'm lying. My will power is really not that great. I would eat the fettuccine alfredo at every meal. Except... that's not the whole choice.

What happens after I eat those meals will be largely different. After I eat Option A-- the super-tasty and very bad-for-you option-- is that my stomach will hurt. For hours. Hours. The whole rest of the night, probably. Even the next day I'll still feel kind of bloated and greasy. After I eat Option B-- the tasty and good-for-you option-- I'll be full until I stop feeling full, and then I'll eventually get hungry again. I'll experience no adverse effects. The meal'll probably last me the rest of the night, and even if it doesn't, I'll just grab a snack later. That whole night I'll feel just fine. The next day I'll feel just fine.

That's the choice. Option A-- feel great now, feel not-so-great later. Option B-- feel good now, feel good later. The question is, do I want to really really really enjoy this meal, OR, do I want to feel good the rest of the night?

Feel good now, or feel good later?

When do I want my gratification?

The answer isn't always the same, which is why the Choice Diet works for me. I don't care enough about looking like Angelina Jolie to exercise four hours a day or to always choose Option B. But I care enough about feeling well to go for walks, do the random sit-up, and choose Option B often enough that Option A doesn't weigh me down entirely. I don't care enough for getting wasted that I'll brave the subsequent hangover, though I'll often get tipsy, just not hangover-worthy tipsy. I don't care enough about guitar playing to practice enough to become a master. But I enjoy it enough to tinker around with it and be a truly mediocre player. I care enough about what I'm studying so that sometimes I'll go weeks without talking to people outside of my house and my department because I'm so consumed with what I'm learning. But sometimes, I'll choose Option B and veg the frig out, reading trash novels and not thinking.

The Choice Diet, to me, is the conscious consideration of What do I want, and What is it worth me doing to get it? The answer is not always the same. Therein lies the balance.

I first began to realize that I lived this way when I first became allergic to chocolate. Oh my, I love chocolate. Chocolate is the best. Chocolate contains a chemical called phenylethylamine that causes some people to get migraines. I became one of those people at age 25. I'm 26 now, so that was... four years ago. I experimented with chocolate for months because I wasn't about to take this new allergy lying down. I learned that chocolate is in nearly everything that I like, and nearly every time I eat it I get a migraine. I learned that I can eat very tiny bits with no effect. I learned that if I eat very tiny bits every day, by the end of the week, I will get a migraine. I learned that it's just easier to say I'm Allergic and not eat Any Chocolate Ever (except sometimes when I choose Option B-- tempt fate and willpower by eating tiny bits). The choices are Eat No Chocolate and Have No Chocolate-Induced Migraine, and, Super-Enjoy Me Some Chocolate and Potentially Suffer Great Pain For About A Day.

That's really not much of a choice. If you've ever had a migraine, you know that you would NEVER choose something that might cause one. I'll eat a tiny bit (less than a fingernailfull's worth) about once a year because I don't want to risk that cumulative effect that I discover way back when.

But, well, I still get migraines. I know they're stress related, lack-of-sleep related, hormone related, and stared-too-long-at-my-computer-screen related. When I get a migraine, I can usually point to multiple of these factors as the probable cause. The problem is that I'll also experience multiple of these factors without getting a migraine. Which means I can't predict them. Which annoys me.

I started thinking about migraine causes again what with all this newfound and renewed interest in What Is Going Into My Body. One guy told me that he stopped eating foods with hydrogenated vegetable oils in them and hasn't had a migraine in years. I researched hydrogenated vegetable oils, came into research regarding coconut oil, and subsequently added coconut oil to my diet for about four weeks, which settled some stomach problems I'd been having and had the surprising bonus effect of clearing up my skin, which had previously refused to stop being acne-covered-teenager skin.

I haven't cut out hydrogenated vegetable oils yet, so I don't know if that's a migraine factor for me. Seriously, that stuff is in all modern food. It would take a huge overhaul of my eating habits to get there, and I've learned that huge overhauls aren't sustainable with me. I need to make changes bit by bit if I want them to last. I'm moving in that direction anyway, what with my push to cut back on the amount of unknown chemicals I consciously let into my body. Maybe next year I'll be there. Or maybe I'll find that Choices take me to some other balance. We'll see.

Anyway, I decided I wanted to find out what it was in chocolate that gives me migraines, so that I could figure out if it was in all chocolate or if there did exist chocolate that I could safely eat. I learned HERE that phenylethylamine develops in the fermentation process that makes coca beans into chocolate, and it carries on in the cocoa butter. Defatted chocolate will not have phenylethylamine in it. I don't know where to get some of that, but well, other questions were raised.

That same link told me that red wines, aspartam, citric acid, and citrus concentrate contain the same chemical and that all are triggers for people who get that sort of migraine.

But...

I drink red wine.

Sometimes it gives me headaches, very rarely do I get a migraine later, but usually I have no ill effects. I don't consume aspartam because artificial sweeteners mess up my blood sugar and cause me to go into hypoglycemic fits that are also very uncomfortable, but that have nothing at all to do with migraines. Citric acid is in a lot of products, like jelly and artificially fruity flavored drinks. I don't eat a lot of that stuff, but I do eat it sometimes. I've never noticed it to cause me a migraine, but I'll pay attention in the future.

Red wine I drink often enough to know it's not so much of a trigger. Rarely ever a trigger. And usually when it is a trigger, I can point to a trifecta of stress and lack of sleep and hormones as an alternate explanation. I have suspected that certain red wines gave me headaches (not migraines), but I've never kept a chart or anything to remember which ones to avoid. The website says that different wines have different amounts of phenylethylamine. So... does that mean that I don't get phenylethylamine migraines? Or that red wine has less phenylethylamine than your average chocolate bar so that I would have to drink more than one glass to feel the effects? And what about aspartam? I experimented enough with it years back to learn of its effects on my blood sugar, but never noticed a headache corollary.

I don't quite know what to make of this information, and I haven't found any online source that tells you how much phenylethylamine is present in various things so that I could test if there is some critical amount which suddenly becomes unsafe for me. But if chocolate causes migraines, and red wine and aspartam don't, well... does chocolate really cause me migraines? Or, at the time of my previous experimentation, was I just so sleepy and stressed and hormonal that I was going to have lots of migraines anyway and they just happened to consistently coincide with my experimentation? I was still working for Sr. Angie back then, and we all remember how horrible that whole experience was.

So that comes back to Choice. Is the threat of a migraine sufficient to keep me from re-experimenting with chocolate eating? Chocolate eating would be awesome if it wasn't connected with extreme pain. But man, extreme pain is... painful.

So far, I'm keeping a balance of confusion and perplexity. Maybe one day my choice will be that I'd rather know the details of trigger amounts than avoid potential pain. But today, the choice is easy. Confusion and perplexity. And carob.

Junk

2008-05-28T00:23:00.000-10:00

Okay, you have to check this out. In order to raise awareness about that huge plastic soup that is currently surrounding my home (and stretching across the Pacific to Japan), this crew has built a raft from plastic bottles and are planning to sail from California to Hawaii.

Visit the crew of Junk at http://junkraft.blogspot.com/

Some things I've learned...

2008-05-24T22:55:00.000-10:00

I. Physical therapy on my foot hurts. But my foot hurts anyway, so it may as well hurt in a productive way.

II. Whiskey helps the pain better than ibuprofen. Too bad I can't just take two of those in the morning.

III. Lemon juice does not make a very good conditioner. I will stick with vinegar. Yup, still doing the baking soda/vinegar thing instead of the shampoo/conditioner thing. My hair is great.

IV. Baking soda also makes a great antiperspirant/deodorant. No sweat, no smell, no plastic packaging to throw away afterward.

V. One of the problems with globalization is that when a larger community subsumes a smaller community, the larger community assumes that the smaller community has the same values and wants. But not everyone wants the same thing. Smaller communities may not want an improvement in commerce. They may just want to stay a small community. They may like their country values and laid-back lifestyle. Not everyone wants what you want, as strange as that may seem to you.

VI. There are a number of other problems with globalization. But we can talk about that some other time.

VII. I really enjoy neighborly interchanges. I gave Walter tres leches that I made. He gave me chicken and rice that he made. "Try some local food," he said. I did.

VIII. It was good.

The Vog and Other Nasty Things

2008-05-17T11:14:00.000-10:00

So, not to give the impression that things have been bad and only bad, here is the good stuff: I have finished my first year of grad school; Michael has finished his first year of college. I'm pretty sure we both got straight A's. We are accomplished, and more plans for the future are in the works. I think what I want to do this summer is "bust my ass" so that I can be all ready to go with proposing my thesis and data gathering, etc. come this fall semester. It is a very exciting idea. I'm already going on my next stage of research and I'm learning really cool things all the time. Michael has decided to get an Asian Studies Certificate while he finishes his Associates. Some of these credits (though not all of them) will transfer on to UH for his Bachelors, which looks more and more like it's gonna be in History.

He'll be auditing an extra Chinese language class this fall so that he's comfortable moving on with that course of language study (for a BA in History, he'll need two languages) (other than English) and I'll be sitting in on a World Religions class this fall so that I can learn cool stuff that I want to learn. The professor said I'm welcome to sit in as long as I agree not to do any of the work, or if I do do the work, I must agree not to turn it in to him. I thought, I can do that. Learning with no strings attached. Yee-haw.

The worms are doing well. They seem to be multiplying, and they like our food leavin's. I can already see huge chunks of compost in the midst of our bin. In a couple months, we'll be jake for growing stuff out on our lanai. Also, G.P.E.C.W.A.O.S.H. has made a new film. It didn't go over real well in the screening, but even still I think it's a huge step up in our movie-making abilities, and I'm very proud of it. And fun stuff for me, barbecue on the beach, twice, with Melodi and her family. Those guys are awesome. When my family comes up, we are totally having barbecue on the beach.

In less-than-stellar news, Michael got sick about a week ago. A couple days into sicknessing, "The Vog" came pouring into Oahu.

Yup, that's not a great picture, but it is a picture of 4:00pm sun that you can stare directly into because of all the stuff in the air. That's stuff in the air is the vog. For those of you that don't know, vog is a fog-looking layer of air pollution caused by volcanic eruptions. As one doctor said in the Star Bulletin, it's like breathing in bleach. It's usually okay for people with no respiratory problems, but if you have asthma or emphysema or a bad cold, further complications may arise. Michael's bad cold turned worse, then he got an ear infection, and then, yesterday morning, his eardrum ruptured.

The good news (less-bad news) is that he had already started a round of antibiotics by the time his eardrum ruptured, and the doctor seemed to think that was a good thing. He was also of the opinion that Michael's eardrum troubles are not that bad, and most importantly, not permanent. He says it will probably heal in about three weeks, provided Michael doesn't go swimming, or pilot any aircraft. Michael tends not to do either of those things, so we're hopeful that it'll be okay. In the meanwhile, he's not feeling very well and brain matter is leaking out of his ear.

My foot's been on the fritz again for about a month and a half now. It never got too bad, because the beginning of pain coincided with finals, and I had decided it was a really, really bad time for my foot to get bad. So I used my cane, I took anti-inflammatories, I kept my foot propped up as much as possible. It didn't get bad. But, I didn't have a chance to stay off of it for a couple days at a stretch until this week, so it never got any better either. This week, I was off of it for three days. The following day, Michael and I went up to the campus clinic, we went grocery shopping. Everything was fine until halfway through grocery shopping, at which time my foot promptly went kaput.

It's ouchy. Bad ouchy. Michael's eardrum ruptured the next morning, so we went back to the clinic. Since we were there anyway, I asked if they had a recurring-foot-injury doctor on staff. They hooked me up with a sports medicine physician who was very sympathetic to my plight. She gave me a very thorough foot checkup. She thinks I have synovitis, which is when fluids build up in and around joints, and particularly as a result of trauma (like marathon training). She has referred me to physical therapy, starting next week. She said, "Hopefully we can get you running again soon." Like she believed I would run again. I dare not hope it. I'd settle for walking without a cane, even after having carried heavy things.

So, the moral of this story is that campus clinics are cool. And also, Michael and I make quite a pair right now. When it rains, it pours, and then the vog comes and then you hurt your foot and rupture your eardrum. But now's as good a time as any for this to be ongoing, and a better time than most. So, all in all, things are fine. Bit of a slump, but a well-timed slump. Booyah.

Story of Stuff

2008-05-14T12:26:00.000-10:00

Hey all,

This is not the new video from G.P.E.C.W.A.O.S.H. That will come later.

This is called The Story of Stuff with Annie Leonard. It's a video in 7 parts, new chapter links appear at the end of each part. It's well worth the 20~ish minutes of watching, as it explains the process of extraction, production, distribution, consumption, and disposal of the things we use in a very easy to understand way. My girl Abby put me on to this video. I hope you all enjoy it!

Fin

2008-04-25T20:39:00.001-10:00

The exciting cause for celebration is that I busted my ass and have finished my papers. I have finished my first year of grad school.

Yesterday, as I was nearing the close, I was typing away at some final paragraphs and thinking back to that marathon I ran in 2004. Right around mile 21, I thought about that finish, about that mile 26.2 just up ahead, and it was so beautiful. I was taken by this well of emotions, overcome by the thought of the finish. I just started to cry. I thought about this as I worked on those final paragraphs, knowing that I was so close to being done with them, and choked up with the thought of it. I knew that I would still have to fix the citation format. I knew I would still have to reread (and probably rewrite) for spelling, grammar, syntax, and continuity errors. But still, with the meat of the work so near done, I got a little teary-eyed.

I finished today. My papers are done, ready to be sent in. I felt far more victorious yesterday. I guess that's the difference between "I got all of my thoughts down coherently! I have expressed everything I learned!" and "My grammar and syntax are proofread and acceptable." Yesterday was climax; today is denouement.

Tomorrow is the happily ever after part.

It's funny; I've been so busy on these papers for so many weeks, just going going going, that what I'm really looking forward to is returning to normal everyday life stuff. I'm so excited about cleaning my place properly. And going shopping for a pair of shorts. And writing fiction again. And walking to the beach if I take a notion to walk to the beach. My god, it sounds like heaven. I'm not quite sure I believe that this could really be my life, so seeped have I been in absorbing and reconfiguring and regurgitating information. Do I really get to go to the thrift store tomorrow? Like, really?

I know I had times like this with the Claretians. I can think of six two-month periods off the top of my head. Different because I was running around with people and events rather than chasing around the thoughts in my head. Same because you just run out of the time and energy to do the standard taking-care-of-yourself things. Either way it's exhausting and exhilarating. I have felt very much alive these past weeks. I have felt like I had my hand on the pulse of life, coming just one step closer to really understanding what we people are all about. There are many ways to learn, and I love all of them.

I have years more of this. I would say that grad school is like a marathon, and I've just completed mile five, but that simile just doesn't hold up because what I'm feeling now has nothing to do with mile five and everything to do with that mile 26.199 where all you have to do is stay upright and let the momentum carry you forward. Grad school is more like a number of marathons, interspersed with rest and more training.

I was telling Michael that most people who compare things to marathons haven't ever really run one, but me, I can compare things to marathons with proper authority. Brain surgery, though... hm. I don't know, maybe it's easy and really fun. Rocket science too. Because, you know, marathons are like brain surgery on rocket scientists. It's all about the happy ending.

The Water-Free Body

2008-04-21T09:20:00.000-10:00

I was reading this little article on NPR about common myths surrounding water drinking, and discovered that people are 60% water. When I announced this fact to Michael, he had a great idea: weight loss through total dehydration. We'll be billionaires.

The plan is that we develop a way to extract all the water out of a person's body, and then advertise:

The Weight Loss Sensation Sweeping the Nation!
Lose Up To 60% of Your Body Weight in Seconds!!!*

*(side effects may include extreme death and dry mouth)

Makapiapia

2008-04-20T17:15:00.000-10:00

Makapiapia is the Hawaiian word for that gunky sleep sand that accumulates in the corner of your eye.

In case you were wondering.

The Honoka'a Trip

2008-04-07T09:25:00.000-10:00

This happened two weeks ago already, so I'm a little fuzzy on the detail. No matter, if I get tripped up on something, I'll just add ninjas.

It was a two day trip that began at Really Friggin' Early O'Clock on a Friday morning. I had anticipated not getting much sleep that Thursday night, since I typically don't sleep well before trips. So I focused on getting sleep the night before the night before the trip. And that worked out well.

A med student I'll be living with this summer named Erin picked me up so I didn't have to bus it, and that was nice. Our entire team were on the same flight, one of Aloha Airline's last, it would turn out. A social work student I'll be living with named Deana decided mid-flight (knowing that I'm afraid of flying--she was sitting next to me and had witnessed first hand my anxious response to the take-off, in case she hadn't believed me when I just told her) that it would be a good time to tell me the story of how an Aloha Airline plane ripped apart mid-flight, and how her old high school friend was a flight attendant on the flight and how she took care of everyone until they managed to land. It was a great story, depicted in a TV movie called Miracle Landing. You can read more about it at:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aloha_Airlines_Flight_243

Ah, wikipedia. Anyway, I was really happy to hear that story as we flew over the ocean on the same airline that had produced that story. To Deana's credit, though,she rubbed my shoulder and said soothing things when we hit turbulence on the descent and I gasped and went all white-knuckled grip on the armrests. Descent is my second least favorite part of flying, just after ascent. Third on the list is "the middle part."

Also, I got to see snow from my window up on the highest bits of the Big Island.

We had breakfast at some ninja diner place. I gave in to temptation and ordered eggs and sausage with hashbrowns and gravy, expecting the hashbrowns to be Waffle House-ish (but they were McDonald's-ish) and expecting the gravy to be sawmill-ish (but it was... I dunno, just brown gravy). But still, tasty enough. And the coffee was good.

We drove in to Honoka'a, which is a... ninja-length drive from Hilo where we landed. We got this picture as we came in:

The joke is that one of last summer's team broke the H off the sign by stepping on it. The town members had joked they would change the town's name to Onoka'a. Anyway, that's my team: Me (Kati), Erin, Kristina, and Deana.

Honoka'a is at a fairly high altitude. It's on the edge of the island, but is so high up that even though the land's horizon will be quite close, the ocean is still quite far away. Like so:

The land slopes up off the ocean so that the wind doesn't break before it hits the town. There is always, always, a breeze. And it's cooler anyway than Honolulu because of the high altitude. It's really nice. Here's the town:

I realize, living in Honolulu, that it's easy to forget sometimes that I also live in Hawai'i. Honolulu is among the ugliest cities in terms of design that I have ever been in. Don't get me wrong, I love it. It's got charm that I haven't quite figured out how to describe. But outside of Honolulu, there are things like Waipi'o Point:

And Akaka Falls:

That's a one thousand foot waterfall. And that's Kristina with me. Ron (our faculty advisor) is taking the picture. After we saw Akaka Falls, we walked around the area a bit and wandered onto a taro and pineapple farm:

From bottom to top you see brambles, pineapple, taro, background foilage, ocean, and sky. Yes, those green spiky things sticking up out of the ground are pineapples, which grow in the ground like that. Anyway, just after taking this picture, a man came up to us and told us all about this farm. It's part of the ceded lands for Native Hawaiians. These two guys took control of like 300 acres last year. They're both farmers and have the land open to any Native Hawaiian who wants to learn how to farm. Basically, you just go to them and say, hey, can I have some of that land for farming? And they give you some. Also, they'll teach you anything you want to know and help you set up. The only stipulation for using the land is that you use the land. If you just let it sit, they'll hand it on to someone else.

Other things that I saw and didn't take pictures of included Waimea Community Hospital, which, in addition to doctors and nurses, has prayer blankets and skylights and patient gardens and healing touch therapists. I also toured the Health Center in Honokaa where I'll be shadowing the mental health professionals. And I got to walk around early in the morning and talk to early morning coffee drinkers and sellers. I learned about the history of coffee growing in Hawai'i, which is a pretty interesting history. And plus there were ninjas.

All in all, I'm really looking forward to this summer. I still can't fathom spending six weeks away from Michael. I just... I really don't like that idea. My plan is to stay as busy as possible so that the time passes quickly while I get the most out of my trip. Gah. But otherwise, it'll be great. Honokaa is a groovy little town, and I think I'll have a good time there.

The Thing About Plastic

2008-04-03T21:29:00.000-10:00

I'll write about my trip to Honoka'a this weekend. I've been buried in resolutions at the Capitol this week and have been researching my butt off for plastic and styrofoam information that is applicable to the resolutions that are currently up. This won't quite go into my work this semester, but I have to share it. I heard about this awhile ago, and this more than anything has gotten me in my move away from the use of plastic. (I'm sorry John, except after you read this I effectively take back that apology, and you'll understand then why I'm not really that sorry that I think plastic is a pretty bad problem in our world right now.)

Please, please, please read this and start thinking about the implications of the things you use in your daily life. I know my readership is, like, twelve people, but read this and then tell others. This issue isn't far away from us. This is in our water, in our food. This is our future.

This article is from The Independent. You can read the original and see the graph at: http://www.independent.co.uk/environment/the-worlds-rubbish-dump-a-garbage-tip-that-stretches-from-hawaii-to-japan-778016.html

"The world's rubbish dump: a garbage tip that stretches from Hawaii to Japan"

By Kathy Marks, Asia-Pacific Correspondent, and Daniel Howden

A "plastic soup" of waste floating in the Pacific Ocean is growing at an alarming rate and now covers an area twice the size of the continental United States, scientists have said.

The vast expanse of debris – in effect the world's largest rubbish dump – is held in place by swirling underwater currents. This drifting "soup" stretches from about 500 nautical miles off the Californian coast, across the northern Pacific, past Hawaii and almost as far as Japan.

Charles Moore, an American oceanographer who discovered the "Great Pacific Garbage Patch" or "trash vortex", believes that about 100 million tons of flotsam are circulating in the region. Marcus Eriksen, a research director of the US-based Algalita Marine Research Foundation, which Mr Moore founded, said yesterday: "The original idea that people had was that it was an island of plastic garbage that you could almost walk on. It is not quite like that. It is almost like a plastic soup. It is endless for an area that is maybe twice the size as continental United States."

Curtis Ebbesmeyer, an oceanographer and leading authority on flotsam, has tracked the build-up of plastics in the seas for more than 15 years and compares the trash vortex to a living entity: "It moves around like a big animal without a leash." When that animal comes close to land, as it does at the Hawaiian archipelago, the results are dramatic. "The garbage patch barfs, and you get a beach covered with this confetti of plastic," he added.

The "soup" is actually two linked areas, either side of the islands of Hawaii, known as the Western and Eastern Pacific Garbage Patches. About one-fifth of the junk – which includes everything from footballs and kayaks to Lego blocks and carrier bags – is thrown off ships or oil platforms. The rest comes from land.

Mr Moore, a former sailor, came across the sea of waste by chance in 1997, while taking a short cut home from a Los Angeles to Hawaii yacht race. He had steered his craft into the "North Pacific gyre" – a vortex where the ocean circulates slowly because of little wind and extreme high pressure systems. Usually sailors avoid it.

He was astonished to find himself surrounded by rubbish, day after day, thousands of miles from land. "Every time I came on deck, there was trash floating by," he said in an interview. "How could we have fouled such a huge area? How could this go on for a week?"

Mr Moore, the heir to a family fortune from the oil industry, subsequently sold his business interests and became an environmental activist. He warned yesterday that unless consumers cut back on their use of disposable plastics, the plastic stew would double in size over the next decade.

Professor David Karl, an oceanographer at the University of Hawaii, said more research was needed to establish the size and nature of the plastic soup but that there was "no reason to doubt" Algalita's findings.

"After all, the plastic trash is going somewhere and it is about time we get a full accounting of the distribution of plastic in the marine ecosystem and especially its fate and impact on marine ecosystems."

Professor Karl is co-ordinating an expedition with Algalita in search of the garbage patch later this year and believes the expanse of junk actually represents a new habitat. Historically, rubbish that ends up in oceanic gyres has biodegraded. But modern plastics are so durable that objects half-a-century old have been found in the north Pacific dump. "Every little piece of plastic manufactured in the past 50 years that made it into the ocean is still out there somewhere," said Tony Andrady, a chemist with the US-based Research Triangle Institute.

Mr Moore said that because the sea of rubbish is translucent and lies just below the water's surface, it is not detectable in satellite photographs. "You only see it from the bows of ships," he said.

According to the UN Environment Programme, plastic debris causes the deaths of more than a million seabirds every year, as well as more than 100,000 marine mammals. Syringes, cigarette lighters and toothbrushes have been found inside the stomachs of dead seabirds, which mistake them for food.

Plastic is believed to constitute 90 per cent of all rubbish floating in the oceans. The UN Environment Programme estimated in 2006 that every square mile of ocean contains 46,000 pieces of floating plastic,

Dr Eriksen said the slowly rotating mass of rubbish-laden water poses a risk to human health, too. Hundreds of millions of tiny plastic pellets, or nurdles – the raw materials for the plastic industry – are lost or spilled every year, working their way into the sea. These pollutants act as chemical sponges attracting man-made chemicals such as hydrocarbons and the pesticide DDT. They then enter the food chain. "What goes into the ocean goes into these animals and onto your dinner plate. It's that simple," said Dr Eriksen.

KATI AGAIN: Also, here's a link to a short, low-res video about plastics in our oceans. http://www.macdonaldproductions.com/plastics_preview.html I got this link from the Fake Plastic Fish Blog that I have a link to on your left. This video is small, it's low-res, it's still worth watching. peace.

The Shampoo-Free Experiment

2008-03-26T09:23:00.000-10:00

After getting involved in state legislation regarding banning plastic bags and styrofoam take-out containers on the islands, I started looking around and learnin' up on a variety of plastic-related issues. I found a number of blogs and websites and products and articles that all have to do with reducing the plasticized nature of our modern day life.

Some tips are easy and obvious. (use canvas bags for grocery shopping) (and by the way, plastic bags will still come into your home that you can use to scoop up poop and what not-- newspaper bags, bread bags, cereal bags, frozen veggie bags, fresh fruit bags. Dropping plastic grocery bags from your life is not the end-all solution to getting that 300 million ton glob of plastic out of our ocean, but it is a step within a series of steps that I think people should be willing to take.)

Some tips are less easy and less obvious. (making your own toothpaste, soymilk, fruitjuice, canning your own vegetables because modern metal cans have a thin plastic coating on them-- these are all things I don't do, and probably won't do. But if you're into, hey. Bully for you, because that's awesome.)

Some tips are downright absurd. (Stop using shampoo and conditioner.)

Which leads me into my latest reduce-the-plastic-content-in-my-life-somewhat experiment, in which I stop shampooing and conditioning my hair for at least a week, and longer if it turns out well. And I figured that this is the week to do it, because it's spring break, so if it goes badly I won't get the reputation around the department of being Bad Hygiene Girl. Hmm... now that's a supervillian toady name if ever I heard one. Hmmm....

My week is not yet up, but as I'll be going away for the weekend, and will have other things to talk about after I come back, I decided to go ahead with an explanation of my experiment and some preliminary findings.

I read a couple of blogs from women who had tried dropping shampoo and conditioner from their lives, and substituted baking soda rinses and vinegar rinses, respectively. This switch has the potential to be less expensive, and because vinegar can be bought in a glass bottle, it has the potential to reduce household plastic consumption by a pretty good bit.

"My hair looks great!" they said, "Better than ever!"

"It doesn't smell like vinegar!" they said, "Not even a bit!"

"I've streamlined the rinse-making process," they said, "So it's really easy and quick to set up for showertime."

How fantastic, I thought. I'd best give this a go. Except, I didn't have any baking soda on hand. No worries, though. I started out that first day with shampoo and vinegar, and this is what I found:

Recipe: 3parts hot water, 1part vinegar, rosemary for scent.

The rosemary did not affect the scent at all. It just smelled like vinegar (though others swear rosemary works great). I washed my hair as normal, and then poured my vinegar concoction over my hair. It felt like I was just pouring water over my head. My hair did not become smooth or light or tangle free. I thought, well, that's a wash. (sorry) But then, the moment I went to rinse it out of my hair, the moment I stepped back under the showerhead, my hair went smooth and sleek and really felt as though I had conditioned it. And the vinegar smell washed down the drain as well. It was great. Brushing it out after the shower, it was slightly more tangled than normal, but still well within manageable range.

When Michael came home, I asked him to smell my hair. He buried his nose deep in my hair, deliberated with deep breaths, and declared, "It smells like mayonaise." What? "It smells like mayonaise." A lot? "No, not a lot." He said he wouldn't even notice it except that I had requested he put his face inside my hair and go searching for scents. So... not completely smell free as some others have claimed.

The next day, we went shopping and I got some baking soda so I could go all out with this experiment.

Recipe: 1tsp to 1tbsp ish baking soda, 1 cup ish of shower water (mixed in a jar in the shower; leftover rosemary vinergar solution, smelling now even less like rosemary and more like vinegar.

I poured the baking soda solution over my hair and rubbed it in. Obviously, it doesn't suds like shampoo, but still I could feel it rinsing oils and whatnot out of my hair. Then I poured the vinegar solution over, as the day before.

There were no tangles when I brushed my hair out afteward. None. At no other time in my life, when my hair has been longer than quiteshort, have I had no tangles when I brushed out my hair after a shower. But here now, there was no effort to it. The brush went right through. And when my hair dried it was... well, normal. There was no change from it's typical texture, cleanliness, etc. It looked like always.

Three times now I've washed my hair with baking soda, and four times conditioned with vinegar. My hair is just as clean as ever. On the day when I used more baking soda than others, the volume of my hair nearly doubled. Not a huge frizzy mess, just... big. My hair is still curly, still soft. I don't smell like vinegar, although when Michael goes searching for any smell, he still holds there is a faint hint of mayonaise. I'm also trying out different scents than rosemary. Currently I'm using a rinse made with pumpkin spice tea and vinegar. I can get a faint whiff of pumpkin spice every now and again, no vinegar. Next I'm going to try clove. Maybe cinnamon, maybe nutmeg, maybe... who knows?

I'm going to keep with this, I think. Less plastic, less expensive, same hair. And it is quick and easy to do, with actually less scrubbing and rinsing and brushing effort than when I use shampoo and conditioner. I can dig that. I'll update later on if it continues going well, or if it stops going well. But short term results are promising.

NEXT: My next blog entry will almost certainly regard my upcoming trip to the Big Island. On Friday and Saturday I'm going to a site visit for my summer program. I'll get to see where I'll be living and working, meet the folks, poke around, organize some stuff. Very exciting.

Comprende?

2008-03-21T09:05:00.000-10:00

I still dream in Spanish. Not every night, and some weeks more than others, but I'll have these dreams where I'm talking to people and the Spanish will come out. Sometimes I'll be introduced to a Spanish-speaker who barely speaks English and I'll tell them that Spanish is fine and we'll converse that way. Sometimes they'll start of saying something in English, but just run out of words.

Sometimes I'll describe what I did in Chicago. I'll tell them that most of my Spanish sucks, but if they want to talk about eligibility for foodstamps, I've got all sorts of vocabulary for conversation. They usually think that's pretty funny. It is my experience in real life that when you speak to someone in their native language, they are mighty forgiving of mistakes and limitations. Of course, this doesn't really hold true for Americans because we seem to think that everyone on Earth should be able to speak perfect English, but we're not talking about us, are we?

Last night in my dream, I was talking with this lady who only spoke Spanish, and while I could understand everything she said (and she used much better grammar than I typically do), I just couldn't get my own Spanish up and going so well. In my dream, I thought, "This is it. Six months away from Spanish speakers, and there goes my language ability."

I know the words are in my head. The grammar is in my head. The fact that my dream characters speak so well is proof of that. Years ago when we went to Guatemala, I thought I could barely speak Spanish at all-- right up until it turned out I was one of the best Spanish-speakers on the trip. I became one of the translators, and I found myself saying things that I hadn't realized I knew how to say until the words were coming out of my mouth. They say necessity is the mother of invention. Well, she's also the mother of language memory, it turns out.

Last time I lost my fluency (my easy-to-access-non-necessity fluency), my dreams in Spanish stopped almost as soon as I stopped speaking it on a daily basis. It surprises me that they continue still this time around. Unless maybe the language is now wired in my brain as part of that feeling of home, and Spanish dreams are a manifestation of homesickness. After all, I still dream of Memphis even though I've not lived there in... god, ten years now.

In other news, I have a job interview this afternoon, and Cliff has submitted my CV to another potential employer. I'll talk about that more when there's more to talk about. My GA-ship for this year runs out in a couple months, and I'll need to get paid again after that's done. Working on that.

I think I have finished the "reading" portion of this next paper I'm working on, which means all I have left is the "writing" part. Piece of cake, yeah?

Novel editing is coming along slowly, now that I'm so concerned with making it "good."

I intend to interview business leaders in Honolulu next week in order to find out what they really think of the now defeated plastic bag ban. Hopefully by the time I've finished all that, I'll have finished my current paper and will be ready to start writing a new one.

I have made a vow to go on a long walk on days in which I would otherwise not have left my desk. "Vow" is perhaps a strong word. It is perhaps, even, a lie. But I do mean to start taking walks, because some days I just don't leave my living room. And that, my friends, is no way to live.

Woof

2008-03-15T22:27:00.000-10:00

Jeremie, this brilliant gay friend of mine that has been my point of reference and sunshine for the last five years whom I couldn't possibly do without, suggested I be a little more specific about who I'm talking about when I mention him in my blog posts. (How was that, J?)

Anyway, the neverending supply of roadside garbage has come through yet again. On Thursday I found a speakerbox, huge and heavy and perfect (after a few minor alterations) to house my future vermicomposting project. It took Michael and I both to carry it home. But. It was worth it because while it's not the exact size and shape I would have built had I built my vermicomposting box from scrap wood, it is still an acceptable size and shape. And it's neat. So we carried it home and I set about the minor alterations.

On Friday I took all the electronics out, clipping wires, salvaging screws, and generally getting freaked out by the insulation inside. I hate the way cotton feels when it pulls apart. I have no excuse. It's one of my weird things. Pulling the insulation out promised to be annoying. I put it off until Saturday. I did decide to keep the woofer (or maybe subwoofer? I don't really know the difference) because it looks cool. I may use it as a lid to my bucket-o-browns -- not because it's practical but because it looks cool. Also it's heavy; it would definitely keep my dry leaves and stuff from blowing away, so I guess it's a little practical. Plus it looks cool. I've never really played with stereos or other electronics, so these pieces are all very interesting to me.

On Saturday I set about pulling out the insulation, but not before sawing open the front casing of the box. I love, I love, I love, taking things apart. I also love putting things back together, although I won't be doing that in this case. This is so much fun. Except for pulling out the insulation. That wasn't very much fun at all.

For the box to be complete, I need to create a lid to keep birds out. I can't have the tropical birds eating up my Waimanalo Blues. Also, I need to create a catch basin for any potential drippings. I'm keeping my eye out for something useful in the neverending supply of roadside garbage. Something will come up, I'm sure. I have ever-growing faith in the neverending supply of roadside garbage. People, it turns out, have a lot of stuff. And they throw a lot of it away. And some of it isn't junk. Or at least if it is junk, some of the pieces are still useful for other things.

The moral of this story is that I am slowly and surely on my way to getting some pet worms.

Riting Kan Bee Fun

2008-03-13T20:49:00.000-10:00

It seems all I do is write anymore. Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining. As it turns out, I really enjoy writing. I even enjoy writing academic type things, which is good because there is much to be done in that arena.

I took a couple weeks off from fiction writing in February because I just couldn't get any of my stories together. It was really getting me down too. After managing nanowrimo and then a couple more month-long novels after that, I thought I had lost my touch. I was quite pleased with the video we made for Showdown in Chinatown this month. I had a lot of fun writing it with Tony, and actually, I think that was the first time I actually sat down with another person and wrote something together. Great fun.

So now, on to my next project. It's nanoedmo, which means it is time to edit that month-long novel that I slammed out without any regards to structure or content. I looked at it this week for the first time in months. I read through the whole thing. And... it's actually not that bad. It's actually pretty durned entertaining. I actually think there's a publish-worthy novel in there. And no, Jeremie, you may not read it yet, even if it's not as bad as I feared.

Because first, it needs a whole hell of a lot of work. But I'm pleased with it, and so I'm working on structure and content. I'll get a readable first draft and then I'll send it around to whoever wants to read and review (and beta, in J's case).

Problem is, April is Script Frenzy. Yup, write a 100 page script in a month. Woohoo! I have an idea that I think will be fun to explore, so I'm gonna go with that. Fun times ahead.

In the meantime, it turns out that I'm still in grad school. I have a pretty big paper I'm working on right now, and after that I'll have a couple more pretty big papers to work on. It'll be great. I'm still hopeful that I can propose my Masters research this semester, but I will have to work quite hard to get to that point. And so, I will work quite hard. I've already made a couple of contacts for people to interview, and it seems as though my research is on the right track in the communities' eyes. That is nice.

I also have a couple of job possibilities coming my way for next school year. I'll let you know as that develops, because it promises to be interesting.

Eh, sorry. Guess I'm all writed out. No great cleverness at ol' 82andsunny today.

The Most Romantic Love Scene EVER

2008-03-09T18:09:00.000-10:00

Fair warning: This video is NOT work safe. And what are you doing reading my blog while you're at work? Huh?

So, G.P.E.C.W.A.O.S.H. participated in Showdown in Chinatown once again this month. Typically, you have one week in which to create a short film about a topic. Well, we goofed and didn't get this month's topic (Dating) until we had only 48 hours left. So we slammed this puppy together, deciding to rely heavily on our writing and less so on our barely mediocre technical skills. We are writers after all. The result is below. No, we didn't win anything. The films are judged on technical stuff. But we were an audience favorite. Nay, we were THE audience favorite. They closed the night with our film, to great applause by all. Fantastic. I'm well pleased.