2010 Resolutions

K) Read William Faulkner.

R) Write about anything of my choosing for 10 minutes every day.

I) Exercise often and enjoy it.

S) Eat more vegetables.

T) Spend less money.

E) Learn about nutrition.

N) Conquer fear of kitchen.

J) Use time wisely.

A) Be a better dog owner.

N2) Volunteer.

E2) Stress less.

*I have denoted resolutions with letters for tracking purposes.

Just in case you were wondering...

The absence of prescription drug coverage at my new job (for the time being) made me think it might be a good idea to try to wean myself off the anti-depressant without medical supervision. It was a bad idea. I got some headache sometimes, but mostly my hormones were all out of whack - it was like never-ending PMS - everything made me cry. My grandma told me she had a similar experience when once TAKING anti-depressants - so it clearly varies from person to person.

I don't want to be dependent on drugs forever if I don't need to be, and I am hopeful that (after my nice health insurance benefits kick in) I will be able to try again - but in a more responsible way.

Consider that a resolution!

2009 Resolutions

I've often - in my 28 years - engaged in the ritual of writing New Year's resolutions. Blogs make it possible to not only write the resolutions, but to track your progress (or lack thereof).

Last year I was easy on myself, resolving nothing specific and leaving no yard stick by which to measure my success.

Goals are important, but so is follow-through.

Some people micromanage their goals - in fact, self help gurus will recommend the practice (in no-uncertain terms). Lists, journals, diaries, logs, all different words for the documentation that will keep you on track.

I've done this. I will likely do it again. But this year, I did nothing.

So how do I conduct my yearly audit? Perhaps in lessons learned and clever quotations..

"Money isn't everything" - "Mother"
I took a job this year that pays significantly less than the job I held previously. I had several reason for taking this job - money wasn't one of them. The promise of professional growth and potential career advancement lured me away from a bad situation. Like a mirage in the desert, upon first sight these promises seemed very real - then eventually faded away. But I don't regret my decision. Lesson learned: Money isn't everything - but it is something.

"Of all the 36 alternatives, running is always best." - Chinese Proverb
I ran my first 5K this year. For most of my life I characterized myself as the anti-runner. Sweating, heavy breathing, head bobbing around like a bobble-head doll - these are things I detest. But every once in a while, something tells me to do something I've never done before for the express purpose of doing it. It usually happens when I've been riding the defeatist wave for too long and serves as a reminder that I am capable of many things - including the unexpected and even those I deem myself incapable of. Lesson learned: I may not be able to do everything, but I can do many things.

"I eat like a vulture. Unfortunately the resemblance doesn't end there." - Groucho Marx
I managed to keep off the weight I lost last year. It's fluctuated a little bit, but I am still around 150-153 on most days. I am not allowed to weigh myself again until the end of January though. Damn Christmas cookies. Lesson learned: Self-disciplin won't kill you - but Christmas comes only once each year.

"The weight of the world is love. Under the burden of solitude, under the burden of dissatisfaction." - Allen Ginsberg
My little sister married her Mexican soul-mate. That was her milestone for the year really, but I became a sister-in-law and confirmed my psychic ability. (I knew she would end up with her husband). Lesson learned: Love knows no borders. (And I am comfortable giving a toast when most of my audience doesn't understand English.)

"Moo." - Cow
I am pretty sure I am lactose intolerant. An unfortunate state of affairs I assure you, as I love cheese. Lesson learned: Soy milk, skim milk, 2 percent, fat free, it all tastes the same when you pour it on cereal so go with what doesn't result in stomach discomfort. But if you are dipping oreo cookies or eating a slice of chocolate cake, only cow milk will do!

No MD? No problem

After meeting with my MD last week, I learned that I don't actually need a doctor's help to wean myself off of the antidepressant Paxil.

That's right.

I can do whatever I want; whatever method "works for me" to get off the drug. And in case it doesn't "work out" I have a year's worth of Paxil I can have refilled regularly at my local pharmacy.

It's a Brave New World in medicine.

Anyone who has ever received health "care" is probably already familiar with the "hurry up and wait" policy the medical industry has adopted. Get to the office early, wait; get in the examining room with the uncomfortable table and shiny stainless steel equipment, wait some more; see the doctor, get the hell out.

You're likely to have a more meaningful exchange with the "Sandwich Artists" at Subway.

I suppose it should come as no surprise; everything in society is on an "expedited" mode. Meals (fast food), conversations (do we every really STOP talking either via phone, Facebook, Twitter, blog), shopping (hello credit cards).

But really? Getting off Paxil can be painful... even when done correctly (see "withdrawal symptoms)

Her cavalier attitude was very troubling to me but I guess it is really just par for the course.

My next course of action: Contact a psychiatrist for real advice and a concrete plan of attack. Try not to be discouraged.

A Life Less Medicated

I am thinking about ending an important relationship in my life.

It's a relationship that has lasted for nearly a decade - but I think it might be time to move on.

I tried once to break it off, but ending a relationship is kind of complicated when your partner is an antidepressant.

Paxil and I first became introduced the summer of my junior year of high school. Putting it simply: I felt bad, Paxil made me feel better.

The healthy way to end a relationship with a drug like Paxil is pretty much the opposite of the healthy way to end a relationship with another person: You have to do it very slowly, or it will be painful. For people, the reverse is usually true.

Now, you might be wondering why I would want to write about something so "personal" in a public blog; it's not my personality to be so free with information about certain aspects of my life. At one time, I may have been hesitant to mention that I am on an antidepressant - there was a stigma attached. But times have changed.

ABC recently (August) reported that the number of people taking antidepressants has doubled from 1996 to 2005.

In 2005, about 27 million people (10 percent of all Americans) were taking antidepressants.

So you see, I am in good company.

I was told a long time ago the reason I was depressed was because not enough of a certain chemical was being produced in my brain; this could be true. Since then it has never been confirmed, nor denied. How could it? As far as I know there is still no way to hack into people's brains and measure chemical production.

The Mayo clinic calls clinical depression a "chronic illness" like diabetes. If this is the case, I will need to be on medication for life.

But because there is no simple answer, no one single "cause" of depression, our friends in the medical community have to address it on a case by case basis.

My case: I started on Paxil during my teenage years. Some people might consider this a difficult time in life. I did.

I am a really different person from the person I was back then (as most people are) and my perspective has changed. Part of that change is attributable to the experiences of life. I would like to see if the person I am now, in a dramatically different environment, can live sans-medication. If I can't, count me as a statistic supporting the theory that depression is more biochemical and genetic.

I can live with that.

But first I want to know if I can live a life that is less medicated.
*To those nice people in my life who are inclined to worrying: I am doing this with medical oversight.

Don't Speak (says it all)

"To Blog or Not to Blog..." (you know the rest)

I will not be getting a raise this year, cost-of-living or otherwise; instead my company is giving me a blog.

I am happy because this is a total validation of my blog-worthiness; I am sad because I would rather have money.

I tried to explain this "raise" (in esteem, if nothing else) to my mother.

MOM: What is a blog?

ME: Like my personal blog, but for work.

MOM: I guess I don't really understand what a blog is...

She was not alone.

Others were equally puzzled:

OTHERS: So, what is the point of giving you a blog?

ME: To drive people to our Web site and engage readers.

OTHERS: Like, to drive revenue and advertising?

ME: Ummm... not specifically, but I suppose that could happen as a result...

While immense revenue opportunities may exist in "blogging" I am fairly incompetent when it comes to the business side of things. As far as I am concerned a blog is an Internet Soap Box where I can spew forth personal narratives (in this case, they would pertain to my 9-5).

My task was to devise an over-riding theme for this blog. My boss had a couple of ideas and so did I. None were all that compelling and I was still not quite accepting the idea.

As a journalist, you don't want to bare too much of your soul to your "readers" because then they can make inferences about you. I write about my dog, for example, and something I might find humorous (trying to pull tick-like bumps off of her body for several minutes before realizing they are her doggy nipples) and before you know it an angry reader will be reporting me to PETA and taking my dog away. (Come on, it's an easy mistake to make).

Of course I wouldn't dream of mentioning in a professional blog how Ella likes to rifle through the bathroom garbage can during my "time of the month" and sample used sanitary items; or how she had a bad habit of ripping the crotches out of my dirty underwear (now she just licks them until they are soggy and I can wash them clean). I would only write about such really disturbing things in a blog where I can maintain some semblance of (perceived ) anonymity.

But how can I write about myself and my very human life, when I need my "readers" to believe I am somehow above those human idiosyncrasies that can be quickly translated into credibility damaging biases.

Journalists are at best shamans, and at worst voyeurs. We can't do anything or join any clubs that might jeopardize our precious journalistic integrity. I recently found a club I was interested in joining, the League of Women Voters, which is essentially a government watchdog organization - much like the Fourth Estate. It promotes political involvement (as opposed to the prevailing public apathy). Supposedly the organization is bipartisan. However, leaders at the national level often take a stand on certain issues, and I can't have that coming back to tarnish my shiny journalistic standards.

Sometimes I feel like I am like Scrooge in a "Christmas Carole" - I can only see (and report) what the ghosts are showing me; I am not allowed to impact the outcome of the events I see.

But I should write a blog.

I can't help but believe that "sharing" with "readers" in this way will call into question my journalistic integrity in everything I write OUTSIDE of the blogisphere.

I guess it will be a "fun" little experiment.

Or the beginning of the end.

Butter dish, the update

I need another "new" butter dish.

Perhaps made of plastic.

The second-hand glass butter dish I acquired earlier this spring met an unfortunate end last week

Presumably it was The Dog who knocked the butter dish off the counter Friday (it was during the 9 to 5 and there were no witnesses). When I came home after work, I discovered two monster glass shards on the living room floor, and smaller slivers in the kitchen.

The butter was no more.

The culpable party was without remorse, as is customary when these types of things happen and she (amazingly) survived the incident unscathed.

I, on the other hand, got a sneaky sliver of glass in my heel nearly five days later.

And so, the butter dish saga continues...

The World Gets a Second Chance

Anyone can read my blog again, oh lucky world inhabitants. Don't make me sorry I've let you back in...

Art

Trapped in a waiting room for longer than I would have liked, I flipped through the glossy pages of an "Elle Decor" magazine to pass the time.

Home Improvement magazines have never been of interest to me mainly because I don't have a "home." "Home" denotes permanence and ownership. I am a nomadic renter with no sense of dwelling permanence - an affliction I've experienced since leaving college.

The places where I have lived since leaving my parents' house are less like homes and more like docking stations; places where I can "recharge" (eat, sleep, shower) and have the benefit of legal overnight parking.

People with "homes" tend to read magazines like "Decor" and worry about things like paint, mood lighting, area rugs, throw pillows and a menagerie of other completely non-functional, dust collecting room/house enhancements.

I "read" magazines like "Decor" only when I am trapped in a doctor's office, and the only other options in the periodical rack are "Parenting Today" and "Country Living."

Despite its general irrelevance to my life, I did see an interesting article in "Decor" about a New York artist named Kathryn Lynch.

I am about as educated in art appreciation as I am interested in home-improvement; I operate merely on preference. I have no deeper appreciation of art - technique, form, color or history. It is either pleasing to my eye, or not based strictly on the sum total of my life experiences/genes/personality/mood/fill-in-the-blank-and-call-in-a-psychoanalyst.

That being said: I would hang a Kathryn Lynch painting in my "home" (if I had one). They please my eye.

Blue Hudson River



A Moon + A Sense (My favorite)



City Blues


Fireworks (This one makes me think of the National Anthem)


Lynch also has some "art" that seems really juvenile-looking to me, but that is probably because I am not so "art-savvy" as to truly appreciate its craftsmanship. Blah blah blah. You can see the ones I like, and those I don't at the Sears-Peyton Gallery

Going the distance

I just want to brag that I ran three miles in 30 minutes Friday and Sunday nights. I got hot and sweaty and gross and winded but I felt like a real champ when I was done.

I am proud of this achievement because I have come a super long way from where I was nine months ago.

My goal is to run 3 miles at top speed a minimum of twice a week and work toward improving my 5K time. Finishing is good, kicking ass is better - even if it is just my own.

Ella = Mutt

Do due increased demand, I am posting the results to a DNA test that was done on my dog, Ella, earlier this year. I swabbed her chubby little cheeks with a Q-Tip and sent the sample in a sealed envelope to BioPet Vet Lab. Several weeks later, they sent me a certificate and a breakdown of the results.

Based on the DNA analysis, Ella has four different breeds represented in her DNA: cocker spaniel, border collie, Italian Greyhound and Belgian Tervuren. The traits that I have identified in Ella are in bold.



The Cocker Spaniel is eager to both work and hunt. They are trusting and respectful of their master. They are of average intelligence and may be difficult to housebreak. Some like to bark. They love everyone and want people to be happy. They are usually good with children. If not socialized well, they may tend to be shy.



The Border Collie is outgoing, friendly and affectionate with those with whom they are familiar and reserved with strangers. They are highly intelligent, very motivated, enjoy working and may become neurotic if not given enough to do. They are not usually nervous or aggressive. They have a very strong herding instinct which they will use to attempt to herd cats or other small animals.



The Italian Greyhound is submissive, affectionate and gentle. They can be reserved with strangers but very attached to their masters. They are playful, sometimes intentionally naughty and may try to take advantage. They can also be timid and high strung. They do best in a quiet household with no small children. They are very active and may be difficult to housebreak



Belgian Tervuren is smart and obedient, serious and watchful, with strong protective and territorial instincts. They are loyal to their master, and thrive on companionship. If left alone, they may find ways to entertain themselves that may be destructive to surroundings. They have strong herding instincts that they may display by nipping at people's heels. They tend to attach themselves and bond strongly to one or two people.



In conclusion: Traits from these four breeds were written on pieces of paper, put in a black magician's hat, and randomly selected by the angels in heaven and thus was born the "Ella" dog.

Knifed

I want to buy some knives for cutting fruits and vegetables.

But to be honest, I am a little intimidated.

I saw a set of Farberware Cutlery at Wal-Mart and considered them for purchase. Doing my best impression of an educated consumer, I read the back of the package.

Behind the window of tear-proof plastic was the printed promise of a limited lifetime guarantee... "UNLESS," the short paragraph stated, "they are not properly cared for." I inspected the back of the package for further information about "proper care" of knives, found none, then made a mental note of the Farberware Web site, where another line of text promised I could find "more information."

I visited the Web site and did not, however, find any more information. And so the care of knives remained a mystery...

Then I conducted a Yahoo search.

I learned that, in addition to washing knives in warm water with a gentle soap, "proper care" would also probably include "sharpening."

A few paragraphs attempted to explain the different sharpening methods, and revealed the existence of professional knife sharpeners.

Professional knife sharpeners?

I resisted the desire to find out more about these people: Who are they? Do they have degrees? Where do they work? What do they charge? Is this their main source of income or just a hobby to supplement their livelihood?

I was begining to feel way out of my league.

Who was I to undertake such an endeavor - this immense responsibility of knife ownership - without the proper training?

I took an Advil and closed my laptop.

I thought about my serrated knife in my kitchen drawer. I wasn't sure what it was meant for but I had, over the past five years, used it for everything from cutting watermelon to slicing into the hard plastic used for packaging knives and electronic devices like head phones and MP3 players.

Maybe this, too, is something that is simply a matter of trial and error.

But I don't know.

Sometimes I feel as if each day is merely an exercise in uncovering all of the things I don't yet know.

Financial 'whoas'

The transmission on my Pontiac Grand Prix needs to be rebuilt. Although not an imminent threat to my mobility, apparently some action will need to be taken in the near future. There is a lot of information on the Internet about the 2000 Grand Prix and it sounds like the transmission is (unfortunately) a common problem with this model after a certain number of miles. The total cost will be around $2,000, but since I just invested $500 in tires, rebuilding the transmission seems to be the wisest way to proceed. The mechanic said I could probably get another 50,000 miles out of my car with a rebuilt transmission. On the Internet it looks as thought I could sell my car for between $3,000 and $4,000 (that would be if it were healthy). I would rather keep it, though, than be saddled with a "new" used car with a mysterious past.

Other financial woes: something is very wrong with my laptop. I don't know what and I am not going to find out until it is in operable. Now it is difficult to use and inconsistent with a lot of weird error screens and spontaneous shutdowns. To take it in and get it fixed would be an assault on my already hurting finances: I am trying desperately to recover from wedding expenses/vacation and the impact of my work-imposed furlough. My grandfather recently dropped $200 to have his computer cleaned of viruses and I need that $200 for other things!

With all of these things hanging over my head, it would seem as though thoughts of going back to school for a master's degree are now in the same realm of possibility as becoming a rocket scientist.

My head is still above water, though, so I can't complain too much.

Wedded Bliss

Little sister tied the knot last month - twice. The first time (May 17) was on the gulf shore by a priest, the second time (May 20) was in a park by a civil servant. I guess they do things a little differently when an American citizen is marrying a Mexican citizen in his home country. The good news is they are married and they are in the process of having their marriage license recognized in the United States, as well. My hope is eventually (within the next two years) they move back to the United States. They are considering their official wedding date as May 17, by the way.

My first 5K

I ran my first 5K this weekend! I finished in 30:58 and improved my time with each lap of the mile-long track. I couldn't believe it! My goal was to simply complete the race without walking (or dying). I guess the gym time has been paying off. I suspect that soon I will be setting some new health/fitness goals. The feeling of accomplishment that I experience when I do something I never thought I could do is incomparable and worth the effort.

Whose dumb idea was this? Oh yeah, mine…

News coverage at my paper lately has been far from comprehensive. Reduced staff, reduced hours and reduced morale are at least in part to blame – but was this publication ever able to provide the complete countywide coverage it so loudly proclaimed?

I don’t know.

I’ve been here less than a year. During that time, I saw my fearless leader and a seasoned news editor sent packing – two casualties of the “economic situation” and what may be the slow and agonizing death of the community newspaper.

Since then it has been a struggle to find the happy medium between the bad days and the good.

On bad days, I send my resume anywhere and everywhere – it’s like a message in a bottle out on the open ocean and I am like an island castaway: I don’t know who will get my message and I really don’t care, I just hope that soon I will be rescued.

On good days, I want to make my paper the best it can be and in so doing create more work for myself. More stress inevitably follows.

I am not the editor. Certain responsibilities are not within my realm of authority. But in this brave new world of part-time and virtual editors, it is unlikely (if not impossible) for those who are in command to have any idea what is really happening on the ground. An intercessor is born.

I quietly made a list of our “perceived” coverage goals (those concocted with a larger staff) and compared it with a list of our “actual” coverage. I wasn’t surprised to find a gaping discrepancy.

Actual coverage and perceived coverage were two entirely different creatures.

I presented my findings to the part-time/virtual editor, along with a proposed plan of action. The plan of action will require me to pick up a lot of the slack and reprioritize my workload; meaning some things will still fall by the wayside. However, I believe the truly important areas will receive the attention they require and future disasters will be averted.

If only there was a way to translate this brilliance into something resume-worthy instead of just added work for the time being.

Lucky for me, today is a “good” day and on good days I believe that making the best of the bumpy road I am on will lead to something profoundly better, albeit with its own challenges, in the NEAR future.

Yoga de-mystified

Today I am celebrating my one-week anniversary with yoga.

Only seven short days ago, I wandered into an upper level studio in Sturgeon Bay for a beginner’s class, stripped out of my socks, and got centered. I haven’t been the same since.

OK, that might be a slight exaggeration, but it was an eye-opening experience.

Yoga is actually kind of difficult to explain. Perhaps that is why it rarely receives an adequate explanation in pop-culture and is instead reduced to celebrity get-fit-quick sound bytes.

Participating in one Beginner’s Yoga class hardly makes me an expert – but I would still like to take a stab at deciphering this pastime to my beloved readers. (“Hi” grandma and grandpa; thanks for reading.)

So first, here is what the dictionary says:

“Yoga: A Hindu discipline aimed at training the consciousness for a state of perfect spiritual insight and tranquility; a system of exercises practiced as part of this discipline to promote control of the body and mind.”


This definition is probably the best I could find that avoids getting to caught up in the theological and cultural intricacies of the practice, which has its roots in India and specifically, the Hindu and Buddhist religions.

What surprised me after attending my first yoga class, was how a lot of the “poses” I learned were not unfamiliar. Many of them I had already done at one time or another, but they were called “stretches,” and were given far less mystical-sounding names.

The take-away message is that yoga can be whatever you make it – just another type of exercise or something more.

The difference between yoga and other physical activities is that you have to be “present” – focused on the here and now – because you will probably fall over if you aren’t. In other physical activities, it is a lot easier to mindlessly go through the motions.

Even if you are skeptical of the other benefits yoga promises to offer, I think most of us could use the reminder to focus on the here and now and be “present” in each moment of our lives.

Butter dish

My parents are coming to visit me this weekend and my mom is bringing me a butter dish. I am very excited about this because for some reason whenever I am shopping in places that actually sell butter dishes, I forget that I need one. As a result, my butter usually hangs out atop a teacup saucer or in an overly accommodating piece of tupperware in my 'frige.

At one time, the butter didn't have a home at all, and was left to shiver inside of its wax-paper packaging on a low refrigerator shelf. I quickly discovered that was a dangerous place for butter: any time the refrigerator door opened Ella (part pig/part dog) would take a swipe at it with her tongue.

Little things like butter dishes don't make a huge difference in life - but they are still nice to have. Just like a paper towel dispenser... but that is a story for another day...

Canon in D, anyone?

Several women I know are being made "honest" next month.

My Mom's best friend, Sue, will be the first to walk down the proverbial aisle, followed by my aunt, and then Little Sister.

Little Sister is getting married.

Sigh.

I still can't believe it, but I have come a long way since I first learned of her engagement last November.

Being the older sibling, it was hard for me to let go of the (admittedly irrational) belief that it is my duty - my birthright even - to complete all of life's major firsts, FIRST. My "failure" to comply with (real or perceived) societal norms resulted in a blighting sense of inadequacy.

Once upon a time, I had been engaged; once upon a time, there had been a chance for me. Now I had to face the harsh reality that my transition from bright-eyed young woman into cynical, spinsterly aunt was imminent - and I was helpless to stop it.

But since then I have done a lot of thinking. I reflected on marriage and divorce and relationships – in general. For much of my adult life, I wasn't sure if I wanted to get married; what I did know was that I didn't want to get divorced. I pondered what the secret was - what makes some marriages happy and lasting and successful (generally speaking) while others end in divorce. I wanted a rhyme to the reason; I wanted to believe that there are "tell-tale signs" or similarities between failed relationships - symptoms that could be identified as treatable or untreatable. I wanted to believe that there are instances of foreshadowing in life that - if one is paying attention - one can heed to avoid an unhappy ending. While this may be true to some degree, there are never any guarantees.

On the plus side, I think I know under what circumstances I would like to marry.

Marriage, to me, is about finding a best friend, a lover and soul mate and pledging to them that no matter what happens, you want to solve your problems, and work together, and experience life's journey together - even when it is not easy. You want to share joy and love, and be there for each other when times are hard. You challenge each other to be better people, while being supportive. You are teammates with shared goals, but you also support each other in your individual goals.

This is what I want in a relationship and in a marriage. If I can't have it, I might be better off as a spinsterly aunt.