i told ya once, i told ya twice, and i re-told ya again

okay so here's the thing - i'm a word junkie. in fact, i consume words like...well, like i consume chips when i'm PMSing: desperately, obsessively, and without pause.

now there's a lovely visual to put out into the blogosphere.

in any case, there is a word that has stumped me for years. years, i tell you! and it is this one: reiteration.

here's why i don't get it. 'iteration' means repetition - for example, i am now iterating why the english language is so ridiculous, and was obviously created by some white dude with a goal to make it the most difficult language to learn for non-native speakers. 'reiteration' means to repeat over and over again - basically, to re-repeat. what the fuckity-fuck - is this not overly redundant?

(heh heh)

anyway. seriously. i'm glad english is my first language, only because i didn't have to learn it, word by word, counterintuitive sentence by confusing sentence, irregular verb by stinkin' verb.

okay children, all together now:
i iterate
you iterate
he iterates
she repeatedly iterates (a.k.a. reiterates...)

an untrendy trend

so, i'm pretty sure i'm 'off' sleep. or i need to re-master my sleeping skills. we just got a new bed, and it's pretty sweet, so it's not that. i'm out of ideas about the how and the why of it, but i am stark raving tired.

tonight, after doing a couple hours of editing for this summer contract i've scored, i initiated my usual nighttime routine: brush teeth, wash face, down three shots of rum, feed cat, drink water, feed fish, kiss cat (x 143), read library book, kiss soft forehead of my sleeping b...you know, the usual...yet for the umpteenth night in a row, the sweet unconsciousness of sleep evades me. reluctantly, i have to admit there might be a no-sleeping trend in my midst.

my mind is catapulting around, and i can hear the blood rushing through my arteries at a very lively, awake pace. bah. i tried a few of the tricks that often work: picturing slumbering babies, counting to 30 in as many languages as i can (about five), practicing choir music in my head to the rhythm of my heart...and none are working. my body is aching to rest but my mind has other plans. so, i am going to try a virtual headstand to empty out some of the stuff rattling around up there. i'm warning you, it's pretty random. you might need to be sleep-deprived yourself for it to make sense.

one of the things i've been pondering lately relates to intentionality - that is, our intentions with others, as well as our intentions with ourselves. in speaking with a number of people about this, it is interesting to realize how differently we all see intention. what is particularly mind-boggling to a control-freak such as myself is that sometimes, what we mean can be entirely irrelevant to how it is experienced by someone else.

okay so check out this conflict-resolution scene: one person feels hurt by someone else, and attempts to share how they are feeling. in response, the hurter says to the hurtee, 'that is not what i meant at all' or, even better, 'i didn't mean to.' (there are extra annoyance-points to be awarded if this is followed by, in a petulant voice, 'you know that i would never hurt you on purpose!'). now, as far as i'm concerned (especially when i'm the person who is feeling all ouchie inside), how it was intended is kinda extraneous. my response would probably be something like, 'okay, that's nice, but here's the thing: hurt is how i'm feeling right now.' (it is important to note that at this point, the four year old inside of me is also screaming, 'you're not the boss of how i get to feel!!')

i don't know if there's something iffy about my my orientation in the world...but i walk around feeling pretty positive about the human race - particularly those members with whom i associate regularly. i try to surround myself with good people - the kind who are generous and caring and kind. a heterogeneous bunch, who screw up fairly regularly (so i don't feel so alone), and who are down-to-earth and fun. the kind of people - and this is key - who don't go around hurting others on purpose. so frankly, hearing the words 'i didn't mean/intend to hurt you' from any of these people is redundant. see, the thing is, that's why they're in my life in the first place - cuz they don't walk around hurting people on purpose. so being told that again doesn't for a moment take away the lump in my throat, the wetness on my cheeks, or the ache in my heart.

there's something else, though, that kinda begs to accompany my above paragraph. i strongly believe that we - all of us - need to understand that what we put out in the world, regardless of how we intend it, is up for intepretation. we don't get to be the bosses of other people's experiences...once the words have left our mouths, once the action has been initiated, it's kind of out of our hands. cuz we are all - inherently, beautifully, epically - flawed. and we will hurt other people in our quest to exist, possibly on a daily basis. do we mean to? hopefully not. will we anyway? you betcha.

now, i never want to be that gal who criticizes something and then offers no ideas on how to approach it differently. so, other than what has already been suggested, i have thought about an appendage to the reflexive response of 'i didn't mean to hurt you', and it goes something like this: but i can see how you'd feel that way. wow. immediately, it feels like you're listening. we both know you didn't mean to, but you did. i can see how you'd feel that. hallelujah! and no apology is necessary (cuz don't get me started on apologies. that's another night, another headstand).

so for those of you like me - does this resonate with you? or are you a person whose hurt feelings dissipate upon hearing the hurter's intention? (and if so, how do you do that?!)

only one

i found this meme over here today, and thought i'd give it a try. anything to distract me from transcribing interviews from mothers with angry daughters (my current project, for which my b is my boss).

basically, you have to respond to each question in one word. and trust me, this is quite the challenge for ms. hyphenating-everything pants. particularly because AmandaD used some of my favourite, most-often used words as her responses, and, well, you know how much i hate repetition and non-uniqueness...

1. Where is your cell phone? table
2. Relationship? lifelong
3. Your hair? streaky
4. Work? insufficient
5. Your sister? unborn
6. Your favourite thing? twilight
7. Your dream last night? twisted
8. Your favourite drink? perrier
9. * Your dream car? subaru
10. The room you're in? stuffy
11. Your shoes? closeted
12. Your fears? numerous
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? peaceful
14. Who did you hang out with this weekend? bedelia
15. What are you not good at? physiology
16. Muffin? cookie!
17. One of your wish list items? barbeque
18. Where you grew up? winnipeg
19. Last thing you did? exhaled
20. What are you wearing? deodorant
21. What aren't you wearing? bra
22. Your pet? purring
23. Your computer? imperative
24. Your life? expansive
25. Your mood? heightened
26. Missing? innocence
27. What are you thinking about right now? wedding
28. Your car? saturn
29. Your kitchen? disgusting
30. Your summer? packed
31. Your favourite colour? ocean
32. Last time you laughed? minutes
33. Last time you cried? tuesday
34. School? hiatus!
35. Love? always

* i can't help it - it's true!

so, give it a go. i promise, it's not as easy as you look, capturing yourself in stark, single words for all to ponder...

not as funny as the first one, but...

...still watch-worthy.

check it out.

exploitation: verbatim

her, worriedly peering into the newly-established fish tank: "do you think there are too many bubbles for this tank? i'm worried that it's too chaotic for them in there!"

me, rolling my eyes at her neuroticism, which now, apparently, extends to our fish: "i think they're fine. if you're so worried, though, just change the bubbler thing..."

her: "well, can you help me?"

me, hobbling (as a result of a fresh football injury to my groin) to the bathroom: "help you? what do you need help with?"

her: "well, putting it in there."

me, peeing, yelling incredulously over the bathroom fan: "you don't need two people for that! you just reach in there and change the tube-y thing, i've done it about four times today alone!"

her, muffled: "i just don't want them to nibble my hand..."

me: "what? are you serious?!" (starts to giggle)

her, tersely: "shut up, b!"

me, hobbling back out to check if she's for real (and she is): "they don't even have teeth!"

her, doubtfully, eyeing 'the guys' (our fish, in plural): "how do you know that?"

me, snickering: "i'm pretty sure guppies don't have teeth..." (as i proceed to watch her haul up the bubbler thing by the tube so her hand doesn't touch the water) "oh my god, you're serious..." (dissolving into laughter that sounds strangely like a smoker's cough, complete with whistling exhalations)

her, fiercely, while nervously watching the opposite side of the tank where the fish have congregated: "shut up, b...! okay, where are the guysOHGOD!!" (jumping backwards, yelling at our yellow guppy) "a-lice!! get lost! why is she over here? she's supposed to be afraid of ME!!"

me: clutching my stomach and making squeaking sounds

her, angrily, eyes flitting at warp-speed between submerged hand and 'the guys': "shut UP, b!"

me: shaking in near-silent mirth with tears running down my cheeks

her, panicked: "why are they not staying OVER there?!"

me, gasping: "i...am....so...going..........to blog this!"

her: squealing as lincoln (the molly) crosses into her half of the tank

me, trying to catch my breath: "come on...are you serious here?"

her, pleadingly: "stop making fun of me and help me!"

me: doubled over again

her, desperately, doing a real hack-job of sinking a bubbling wand to the bottom while trying not to put her hands in the water: "come on! i need some help!!"

me: useless

her, on the brink of hysteria: "you think this is reaaallly funny, don't you?!" (to our blue guppy): "come ON, che, get away from here!!!"

...and on it went. ten minutes later, here i sit with a throbbing groin, rivulets of salt down my cheeks and a sore gut from laughing, when i hear:

"are you blogging in there, b?"

"yup!"

(quietly resentful): "smartass..."

so you don't like the heavy stuff, huh?

all righty then, then i present you with some random, pointless information! :) this is one of those memes that is circulating right now...i just looked for shits n' giggles, but some of the stuff that came up was strangely prophetic and adept...so i thought i'd share it with you.


basically, you click your way to google and then type a search for "[your name] needs" and see the top x things (i'm choosing 15) that come up. then, you share them. ta-dah!!

FIFTEEN THINGS I NEED

(according to google, that is)

KD needs...

1. "...to know exactly what time she is to be doing something and exactly how it is to be done." (uncanny!)
2. "...to get out of the house more." (i knew it. google has spies!!)
3. "...this type of concrete feedback to grasp her own progress." (i wish there were an example of what type of feedback it was that i needed...i need to know *exactly* what is meant by that, pronto!)
4. "...to be patient." (ouch-ah!)
5. "...a schedule." (i will agree, on the condition you pronounce it sked-jule and not shed-jule)
6. "...help again!" (again?! more like 'still.')
7. "...to vent." (i am assuming they mean vent my issues, and not my armpits. i have been showering regularly, after all...)
8. "...some serious prayer for health and personal problems surrounding her life right now." (wellll...who doesn't have health and personal problems? at this point, i'd request that you save those prayers, though...they make me a l'il bit nervous...)
9. "...a big hug." (very true. from someone providing concrete feedback, preferably)
10. "...match the content of any story." (wha?)
11. "...quiet." (seeeriously! i could use about 3 servings more o' quiet per day!)
12. "...constant antibiotics to stay healthy." (listen, when people keep wanting to pray for your venting problems...you do what you have to do!)
13. "...to spend less time on the computer and more time doing some weight training or something." (google. totally. has. spies.)
14. "...to get busy and model a few for us." (a few what? g-strings? ankle bracelets? beer bongs?)
15. "...something good!" (yeah. like my ego back from under the google-spy's shoes.)

what happens to clean laundry at our house...

deep as a puddle? not i, madam...

i have been told that i think too much (or too hard, or too deeply, or too fill-in-your-favourite-word-of-excess-here). though i personally would prefer to err on the side of being thoughtful, people often make this comment to me with a tone approximating disdain, accompanied by much sighing and eye-rolling. well, put your exasperation aside, folks, cuz i just can't help it. as much as i like quacking to my favourite songs, i am not much like a duck at all (this being a reference to the whole water-rolling-off-my-back thing).

lately, i have been plagued by a sense of loss. there have been tangible losses, such as the loss of my beloved nephew-dog, and there are a couple of others that i don't even know how to write about yet. but there have been other, more illusive losses that unfurl themselves in my stomach, with slow but sharp tendrils prickling behind my eyelids and making my heart ache. these are the ones that are the most unsettling. these are the losses that have caught me unawares.

it sounds kind of dramatic, but my sense of being in the world has shifted. i have come to some very uncomfortable, painful conclusions about myself and my interactions with others, and they are not things i can control, or change...or forget about. these conclusions are like the hushed, reverent voices of a hundred little lamas in my ears, and they have been whispering 24/7 over the past three weeks.

i can assure you i am not cracking up...i've already been there, done that, and trust me, this isn't what it looks like - for me, anyway. after 13 years of battling, denying, and finally accepting my life with a diagnosis of major depression, i am quite familiar with the 'landscape of my madness.' but this...this constant feeling of emotional indigestion is almost more painful, both because i am facing a difficult truth, and then because it is one that people have pointed out to me all my life (which, in kd-land, means that i have been compelled to resist it!!). damn, i hate when people know me better than i know myself.

~~~~~~~

however: something wonderful has happened as a result, and i'm pretttttty sure you're going to think i'm really off my rocker when i tell you what it is. i can't describe it how it feels, other than it's like a dam has been broken somewhere inside of me...and i now have this new superpower (it truly feels that way!) that enables me to cry like a normal person. that is to say, i can cry more openly, and most exciting - i can cry when i feel like crying. it's crazy. these days, when i feel sad, or happy, or when something has touched me, i can tear up with the best of them. i'm on the top of the world, i tell you.

don't get me wrong, i'm a gal that does my fair share of boo-hooing, but my crying has always been hush-hush, a covert activity that i undertake privately and usually alone. somewhere along the line, i perfected the art of deferring crying from when i felt like it, to a time when i was hidden away from everyone else. it became an almost academic undertaking, whereby i replaced feeling with thinking - mostly thoughts about how i absolutely couldn't and shouldn't cry. (note: here again, hypocrisy abounds. i have none of the judgmental and punitive feelings about other people crying. just myself.) indeed, i have yearned for years to cry when i felt like crying - years, i tell you!! - and i have saluted, envied, and prayed for all you normal people to write cognitive-behavioural books so i could try training myself to cry or something...but alas, somehow i have figured it out, when i least expected it. and it is divine.

so, yeah. i know i am on the upswing. sometimes it just has to be bad awhile for it to get good, right?

AWOL

yeah, i know. i'm really inconsistent with this whole blog-writing thing. i don't know what to say, except that lately, there has been SO MUCH to say that i've been immobilized. silenced. for once, quiet (at least here. i'm rarely quiet this long in real life).

not that i flatter myself that you're all waiting with bated breath for my brilliant entries, but i know how irritated i can get when i check people's blogs, and they don't write for weeks on end. i know. i'm a hypocrite. i'll write it out 100 times on my little ikea blackboard in the kitchen, i promise. plus, i'll drink my morning merlot from this mug for like, the entire month of july.

anyway, somehow i've found my voice and enough focus to sit down and write, mainly so you can breathe easier. prepare yourself - it's all a-comin' down tonight...

for those left behind

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

empty-headed

this is all i'm really capable of today. i was desperate and borrowed it from here:

SOUP TO NUTS

1. Are you a fan of soup?
why yes, yes i am. i could probably eat soup every day.

2. What is your favorite kind of soup?
hmm. that's tough. my baba made a wicked chicken noodle soup that far surpassed any chicken soup i can recall, but i have to rely on retrospective memory, as she passed away 15 years ago. a close second would be my mom's borscht.

3. Are you a fan of nuts?
yes - particularly of the human variety.

4. What is your favorite kind of nut or dish containing nuts?
to eat raw, i think i'd have to say almonds. but i just might choose a cool scoop of pralines n' cream...though really, any nut with sugar is a sweet deal.

5. If you had to eliminate either soup or nuts from your diet for the rest of your life, which would you choose?
definitely nuts - but only of the edible kind. human nuts are always invited to stay.

oh. ma. god.

i didn't know there was a blog about grey's anatomy...but there is. and shonda rhimes writes on it! and they talk about their decisions for plot things, like the whole izzy and george sex thing. i've been trying to boycott grey's since that episode, but i just...can't...do it, captain! it's too good!!! and i know that makes me pathetic (never mind the serious procrastinating that is going on - hello, remember my exam tomorrow, and how i have only reviewed 2/19 lectures?!) but i can't help it, is the thing.

i'm addicted to grey's anatomy.

and i will find a 12-step group for it, too, once i get the pencil surgically removed from my left orbis ocularis.

it's official, folks

it is with great joy that i annouce that as of 22 hundred hours and seven minutes last night, we received notification that the slug is indeed moving out on july 1st.

the delight we feel is only outweighed by the fear that the entire house may need an exterminator to rid it of residual slugliness.

and there are some concerns...i mean, how will our guests find us, without the trail of slime up the mountain to guide them? will our neighbours miss the pornographic bass-line that nearly constantly eminated from our basement? will i never hear the opening to 'superman' in mind-blowing surround sound again?

no one's tryin' to make me go to rehab, so don't worry

so i took advantage of some of the new features on blogger, but there seems to be a bit of a fault with the music honour roll thingy. when i typed in 'amy winehouse' (the artist to whom i would like to draw your attention), blogger linked to only one of her songs and its million versions, entitled, 'rehab.' while true that i love this song, there are other amy winehouse songs that i love. so don't get your knickers in a knot. i don't need to go to rehab.

now excuse me while i get back to my morning merlot.

almost unmentionable...

...cuz it's so exciting. the slug might be moving out!!!!!! wahoo!

d'ya think pelvis in plural would be pelvi?

so here it is: my friend j told me that she was tired of reading my 'anatomically corrrrrrrect' post and that i should hop on writing a new entry. however, just to be clear, this is not the reason i am writing a new entry (cuz she's not the boss of ME). i am writing because i want to. because it's about that time.

exam time.

and frankly, i gots better things to do in my life than study. like blog. (yo peanut gallery - ssshhhht! i had better things to do over the past two months, too...)

so....i wrote my anatomy exam this past thursday, and i am ridiculously relieved. in preparation for the big 8:30 am event, i pulled a geriatric all-nighter on wednesday night - a term i coined to refer to an all-nighter with a nap in the middle. y'know, for all of us supah-old-almost-31-year-olds. i also invited another student midwife and friend, L, to keep me from going entirely insane. and with the assistance of coke, chocolate, tandoori doritos, and lots of knee-slapping jokes (which i won't repeat here, cuz our anatomical word wizardry would certainly be beyond you) we were able to stave off our nap until 4 am.

i set my alarm for 6 am in order to re-review respiration, urine production, and the innervation of the penis (what kind of morning starts out like that?!), we drank some scary-ass potent coffee, and we were at school by 7:45 am. but the exam was not the highlight of the day - no, no, no. that honour is bestowed to another fellow midwife-to-be, my friend S, who ate two boston creme timmy ho donuts. in a row. right before we entered a room full of a bunch of pickled organs (yes, including those organs), cadaver portions, and The World's Nerdiest Professors for our bellringer. now that, my friends, is a strong stomach.

in other school-related news, i meant to study the whole of this weekend for my communications exam on wednesday, but it really felt like i had to re-socialize (or de-anatomize) myself. my mind was chock full of the names of blood vessels and their layers, potential pathologies of the kidney, the direction of fetal blood circulation vs. adult circulation, and the path of an ovulated egg. i needed to just *not think* for a bit (not to mention that i really needed some good sleep - takes us seniors a long time to catch up). plus, check out my professor's website for the subject for which i am supposed to be studying. as you do so, try to imagine what kind of lecturer he would be. and then, imagine that he is about 10 million times worse than that, and you may get a glimpse of what my monday nights this term have been like.

so, yeah. studying this weekend just didn't make the cut. but here's what did:
- eating indian food with my bro and B at my new favourite restaurant (and no, smart asses, not cuz it's a buffet, but cuz it's got amazing food)
- being visited by J and baby scouter
- watching our taped episode of grey's anatomy from thursday
- eating party mix (loudly), drinking grape juice mixed with soda water, and burping
- running the 894 killer stairs leading from suburbia-land (where we live on the mtn) to the 'hood down below us
- buying a new stereo for the car (finally - only 9 months since it was stolen!!)
- playing a new video game on the computer
- reading all the blogs i haven't been reading
- burning my anatomy notes
- cuddling with the cat

i figure it's all worth it. and by tomorrow morning, bright and early, i will be ready to conquer lectures with titles like "framing the victorians: the development of photography," "the renaissance computer: being a lecture on the subject of gutenberg's printing press and the consequences pertaining thereto for european societies" and my favourite, "who killed the picturephone?" (within whose lecture our professor actually quoted 'video killed the radio star'). and, if you call me before wednesday and i don't answer, it's probably b/c i've stuck a pencil in my eye from trying to translate his feckin' weekly comedy routines into something i can study to prepare for an exam in which we are expected to write three. essays. in. three. hours. gaaaaaahhhhhhhh.

anatomically corrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrect

i just wanted to share with my blogging public that sleeping with my anatomy notes under my pillow (aka osmosis) must work after all! i am significantly smarter than last term - that is, if we use midterm grades as our benchmark...can i just say that i have never been so happy to be only 3/4 right in my whole life?!

anywho...i am on a library-owned HP laptop sitting smack next to a couple of 19 year old valley girl sound-alikes, but i've had about all i can take. soooo...until later!

can you spell 'misspell'?

if i read 'wierd' one more time on a sign, blog, or in the paper, i'm gonna go ballistic. i know the stupid rhyme is 'i before e except after c' but c'mon people...oh, and i also have a book club recommendation for you. it's called the dictionary.

P.S. you'd better not differentiate right from left by holding up your hands and seeing which index finger and thumb make an 'L', either.

a wohk in the pahk (to be said a la dick van dyke in 'mary poppins')

as the mercury in southern ontario rose to a balmy 1.9 degrees, and as i am the world's best procrastinator (self-proclaimed, mind you, but i bet i would beat you anyway), i went into guelph yesterday afternoon to hang out with two of my favourite babies (and their mommies, who are not too shabby either). contrary to the title of this post, there was not really any walking in the park (too much slush and ice to navigate precious cargo down the big pre-park hill), but there was a lot of walking. and a fair bit of talking, cake-eating, and some of us even filled our pants (shame on you, jess!).

it was a glorious day - sunny, crisp, mucky, with a hint of spring, and it was just what i needed to balance out the hours i have been spending trying to memorize the types and functions of white blood cells, the crazy mathetmatical formulas for lung elastance, and what the stomach looks like under a microscope as compared to the jejunum. although i was feeling quite apprehensive before the visit about taking so much time away from my studying/ panicking/desire to ram a pencil in my eye, it was a wonderful reprieve. so thank you girls! and thank you, my sweet babies!!

just one last note...as we walked and pushed the lucky monkeys in their deluxe, ready-to-scale-mountains stroller systems, with their visors to shade their drowsy eyes from the sun, their little warm fuzzy carseat sacs, their blankies, and their soft squishy pillows to cradle their heads...i wondered, for the umpteenth time, why someone couldn't make strollers for adults. someone hop on that, mmkay? i'll tradeja some really cool physiology facts about the liver that are sure to be party pleasers...

it's kinda hard to study when...

...something this cute sits on your anatomy textbook!