An argument for honestly reviewing books - and why every reader should do it

I've blogged before about how diverse reader's tastes are noting that there are so many ways a book can be regarded depending on who reads it. So there must be a way to slog through all the books out there and narrow down which ones you personally will like. Which is why I argue that every reader has an obligation to honestly and objectively review every book they read.

I'm a huge reader. No secret there. What many don't think about is that the number of books you can read in your lifetime is finite. There are far more books out there than you can read in one lifetime. Yes, even yours. That finite number varies by person depending on how fast and how often you read. For example, I read three books a month on average. That's thirty six books a year - give or take. If I have twenty more reading years, I only have time for seven hundred and twenty more books. Ever. Which is why you really should choose wisely. For the same reason, I also think you shouldn't finish a book that doesn't hook you and keep you entertained either. Unless you're in a book club since arguably you have an obligation to read those selections regardless.

So how do you pick which books to read so you get the most out of your remaining, and technically very limited, reading time?

Personally, I use recommendations from friends and fellow readers. Another reason I love Goodreads so I can see what people say about books before I decide. (Especially helpful when you have friends who read and enjoy the same books you like so you can see what they enjoyed - or didn't.) I shy away from books that don't get at least an average three-star rating (out of a possible five). But here's a little secret... I usually only read the middle of the road reviews and I especially am interested in the "bad" reviews. Those are the reviews that - if written objectively - give me the best insight. If I see that someone didn't like a book because of something that I might actually like, I'm more likely to pick it up. If someone didn't like how dark a book was or how bloody the action was but I really like dark and bloody books, I would probably pick it up.


In the past few months I've heard arguments from many different people about not wanting to honestly review every book which all boil down to a couple of general ideas that I take exception with:

"I don't usually review if it is going to be less than 3 stars."
"I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings."

I think both of these arguments approach book reviews from the wrong side of the issue. I don't review books for the author's benefit, my reviews are designed for other readers like me so we can find books we like (and avoid those we won't). The hard truth that every author must grapple with accepting is that no matter how much effort and love went into writing a book, not everyone everywhere will love it. Reviews are designed to be the unbiased opinions of readers, and everyone everywhere is entitled to their own. Once a book is in the hands of readers, there's nothing that an author can change about it anyway.

What if every review was a glowing one and there were no differing opinions? Or what if no one reviewed books ever because they were worried about hurting either the author's feelings or the feelings of those who had a different opinion? Then every book would be as much of a gamble as randomly picking something off the shelf - without reading the jacket. By not giving an honest and truthful review, regardless of how you liked or didn't like a book, you're doing a disservice to every reader who comes after you looking for insights on whether they would like to read it. Of course I don't think you should completely trash a book (or the author) if you don't like it, but give me an objective and constructive reason why you didn't like it that can help me decide if I might also rather skip it. Then let me decide.

Because of this, I rate books in the following manner:

• 5 stars = Loved it! I abandoned all aspects of my life in order to voraciously read this book
• 4 stars = I really enjoyed it and I would highly recommend it to others - but I still slept at night, mostly.
• 3 stars = I liked it but I didn't love it. I found nothing to complain about but it didn't rock my world either...
• 2 stars = I didn't like it overall although I did finish it. (Incidentally, books with this rating have generally been ones I read for book club which illustrates the point that it takes all kinds of readers and not everyone likes the same things.)
• 1 star = I either hated it or I didn't finish it

On top of a star rating, I always give the feel of the book and the impression it left me with overall. I don't bother with a synopsis of what the story was about from start to finish, you can get that elsewhere. What I really emphasize is what worked for me and what didn't, and why. Something that would help someone else objectively draw conclusion as to whether they would like it or not. I do this because those are the kinds of reviews I look for when deciding to give a book a spot on my finite list of things I've read between now and when I die.

You remember what they say about treating others the way you want to be treated, right? If you are a reader, won't you consider doing this as well? Future readers will thank you, myself included!

This blows or pit stop for a pity party

Okay, I know I said last post that I was only going to focus on the positives and all that happy rainbow and unicorn crap but that leaves me without my favorite outlet here to deal with the whole reality of my experiences and how truly shitty this new treatment plan is. Since its my blog after all if I want to change the rules then I get to. Right? The truth is, if I don't acknowledge and share the roller coaster ride with the downs as well as the ups I might go insane.

It's been a month with this new immunosuppresant drug and this past weekend I actually uttered the words "if this is how the next two years are going to be I think I'd rather have died." That sums up the very lowest of the low points of how I'm feeling. I waver between being so mad at everything and everyone and then in tears feeling like an imminent emotional breakdown. It really really blows. I think the worst part is knowing that I'm facing two years of this treatment. IF it works.

The irony of this new drug is that it is supposed to heal me and yet I feel like total shit. I'm tired - even more than I have been since this all started. I have headaches EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Most days I wake up with my head pounding and it never stops even when I lay down at night to go to bed. Saturday my head hurt so badly that I had to eat dinner with my sunglasses on because the light hurt my eyes too much and my family was opposed to eating in the dark. I didn't eat much since I had no real appetite with the pain. My joints hurt like I'm an eighty year old - especially my knees and hips which makes walking super painful regardless but worst going down stairs. I had a drug interaction with my statin which exasperated this most delightful side effect at the beginning and I'm still waiting for the pain to go completely away now that I'm not taking the statin anymore. I'm naseated and feel like I'm going to throw up at the drop of a hat. There are days it is worse than when I was pregnant. And, on top of feeling like all this, I broke out in acne and look like a teeny bopper who doesn't know how to take care of her skin again. Yippee. At least I won't get the cancer later so there must be something okay about this drug, right?

I met with my doctor this morning and there are some tiny bits of good news. My proteinuria is a little better than last month and my kidney function has rebounded solidly back into the normal range now that I'm not taking most of the original meds that impacted it while trying to reverse the protein loss. However, I was unable to continue to avoid the dreaded addition of steroids and now I'm waiting to balloon up and look like a fat cow on top of everything that I'm already dealing with. That should be great for my psychological health. Hopefully this won't happen but I'm not holding my breath. Hands down the best news of the morning is that I can add fish back into my diet without losing the benefits of being a vegetarian. Sushi anyone?

My emotions have been all over the map the past week. It started with my inability to walk because of my hip pain last weekend; then I had the worst week of yoga starting with last Monday's class where I couldn't do most of the poses because of my pain and then not even feeling up to trying either of the other times I had it scheduled; and finished up when I tried to do a 5K on Saturday and couldn't finish it. At one point I was bringing up the rear and could barely talk while I tried to keep up with my friend who was pushing her sister who is fighting breast cancer. I know it is progress since until now I haven't even felt like attempting a race but then when I couldn't finish - mostly because I was an idiot who took my diuretic before I left home and had to break off early to find a restroom - it was even more of an emotional blow to my already delicate psyche. I spent the rest of the day with a throbbing headache on the couch feeling sorry for myself. Yes, folks, even I succumb to the feeling sorry for myself trap once in a while.Yesterday was much better and I got a few hours in the morning free of headache pain so I didn't spiral out of control and am back to wanting to kick ass and take names. Maybe a nap first though? It helps that I was back on my yoga game this morning thank gawd.

Even with all the emotional breakdowns I have cause to celebrate. Although the 5K was a dismal failure that proved to myself that I can no longer call myself a runner *sniff*, it was the first race I participated in since the one last October that could have, and probably should have, killed me. The fact that I'm still fighting to be healthy and haven't given up in the face of all the past year has brought me proves I can make it through wherever this road leads. Even when it blows... I just have to stop every so often for a pity party apparently.

Two weeks later

Let me start by stating that unprovoked clots in your lungs - meaning there is no cause that can explain their presence - is truly a shitty deal.  I am the girl who wants answers to everything.  The girl who disassembled my curling iron in high school because I wanted to know how it worked.  The girl who needs to know everything about everything so I can project plan the shit out of it then make appropriate entries into my calendar like marching orders to follow precisely.  How else can I accomplish everything I ever want to in life? Not knowing where we go from here is truly fucking with my brain.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Immediately following my diagnosis I was focused on getting from day to day.  The shock of almost dying was surreal and I still don't really know how I feel about how close I could have been.  My first goal was getting my anti-coagulation established.  Those super expensive injections I had to give myself twice a day hurt like hell and my first personal aspiration was to quit having to take them.  Which meant my INR test had to be above a 2.0.  Three times a week I stop in at my doctors for a finger prick to test this.  The day after diagnosis, I was .9.  A week and a half later I was above two after once having to increase my daily dose of Coumadin.  Finally no more shots!  That same week and a half had me feeling better with a bit more spring in my step every day.  Two days post diagnosis I couldn't walk through Scheels without needing a bench to rest.  But, two weeks later, I went for my first run.  I could only run a couple of minutes at a time with stretches of walking in between but it felt like I was running my first race and accomplishing a personal record.  The smile on my face was ear to ear.  This was irrefutable evidence that the clots in my lungs are disappearing and I'm almost all better.

Now let's talk about Coumadin and what it means to be anti-coagulated.  It sucks hairy-ass monkey balls.  I'm a bleeder now who bruises easily.  That hangnail I absently picked at during a meeting?  Oh, don't mind me with blood dripping off my finger.  No, officer, my husband doesn't beat me, I just ran into the bar stool someone left pulled halfway out and I'm anti-coagulated.  All those other bruises?  Yeah, I have no idea how they got there but I swear no one is beating me. Worse than all that is the dietary restrictions.  I can't eat leafy green vegetables?  No spinach?  No lettuce?  No broccoli? No asparagus?  Are you fucking kidding me?  Do you know how hard it is to take a brain that is wired for nutrition and real food and then suddenly you can't eat it?  At least three times in the last week I've gone to bite into a delicious meal only to realize it had something in it I can't eat.  Thank god I didn't have to alter anything about my coffee habits.  Had that happened on top of everything else I might be murderous rather than just bitchy.

Which brings us to the shitty deal I'm facing now that I'm out of the woods and getting back to my normal activity levels:  There is no end in sight for the Coumadin.  When I tried to nail down my doctor with a time frame to expect this to continue he said "at least six months but more likely longer."  So now I'll be a runner who can't eat her veggies and who might bleed out if she doesn't check her clotting factor twice a week and gets a bruise.  Ain't that just grand.  And why?  Because no one knows exactly what caused my blood clots in the first place.  Even though I was taking birth control after the age of 35 which actually states it can increase the risk for exactly this to happen.  On the bright side, I can run again.  Oh, and I hit my deductible on my high deductible healthcare plan so now I can get that IUD that I couldn't afford to pay for out of pocket and which started this whole fucking mess for free.  At least I can still run...

You can't make me... or can you?

I just looked back on my blog archives to make sure I wasn't naming this entry the same as the one I did on this subject this time last year and to my amazement find I DID NOT blog about this last year! *gasp*  Hold onto your hats, this is a rant two years in the making now...

I work for a healthcare company (which will remain nameless here for my safety) and have for about 4 years.  I work in I.T. and have never been in a patient care environment for my job.  The first two years when it came time for everyone in America to get their flu shots, I signed a waiver that I wasn't going to get one.  Employees either had to provide proof they got stuck or weigh in that they weren't planning on it so the company can mark us all off on their little lists.  Two years ago, they got smart and offered a 'permanent waiver' if you were never going to get a flu shot which would make it easier on the head count every year.  I was elated to eliminate the yearly hassle of the waiver.

Then the following year - last year - they decided that everyone was required to get the shot no matter what.  So much for a permanent waiver that didn't even last a year!  The only exception being if you had a religious reason - other than the "I am using my free will to choose not to" - or a doctor-verified medical reason not to get it.  I was furious!  Want to get me motivated?  Tell me I can't do something and I'll prove you wrong.  Want to incite me to violence?  Force me do something I don't want to do.

How did they force us all to comply with this violation of civil rights?  By threatening us with suspension and eventual termination if we didn't succumb to the needle by certain deadlines.  I know what you're thinking - How can they do that?!?  Isn't that discrimination?  Isn't it against some fundamental human and civil right that we have to choose?  I'll tell you how - because Utah is a right to work state which means they can fire me for whatever whim they choose.

Last year I was outraged... and when it came time to march down with the cattle call and get our badges scanned and fill out the paper and sign below the statement that says 'I am choosing to get this shot even after I've been told the risks', I crossed out the statement I didn't agree with and signed the paper.  The turd from Human Resources refused to accept my paperwork saying the company's attorneys wouldn't allow any alteration of the forms.  The following dialogue ensued:

Me: "But that means you are asking me to sign something that isn't true because I don't have a choice to get the flu shot and I'm not willingly choosing to get it."

Him: "Of course you have a choice, you don't have to get the shot."

Me: "But if I don't get the shot I get fired."

Him: "True.  But if you choose not to get the shot knowing those are the consequences you still have a choice."

I looked at him, seething, and couldn't argue with the logic.  If I had the financial means to walk out the door right then and never go back, I would have quit on principle alone.  But, alas, I have a family I help provide for that I had to think about.  There were many I heard who did walk away from their jobs and I applaud them.

For weeks stories floated around about how people who had claimed an exemption for religious reasons or medical reasons had been denied and still required to get the shots.  Apparently a slight allergic reaction wasn't enough, it had to be a severe allergic reaction.  And the religion exemption was even harder to get.

Why am I so against the flu shot?  It isn't the flu shot specifically because I wholeheartedly believe that those who are susceptible to getting the flu or are at risk for other factors should get the flu shot.  But I'm not in either of those categories.  I have not had the flu in over 20 years.  So tell me how a dead virus grown in eggs and gambling that the epidemiologists correctly guessed picked the way last years virus would mutate to get put in the vaccination when there are hundreds of strains of the flu virus will protect me any better than my amazing immune system already does with a flawless track record.  I didn't even get the H1N1 vaccination when I was pregnant!  No, for me this is just a violation of my right to chose what I do and don't put in my body. 

This year I was resigned that I'm still not allergic to eggs - thank GOD since I eat them every day - to get me out of what I knew was looming again.  Instead, I did a bunch of research trying to find if there was a religion I could join that would impart me with some tenet I could waive to say forcing me was 'against my religion'.  Me, wanting religion.  Ironic, isn't it?  Interestingly enough, I found one!  But even that came with a catch....  The Congregation of Universal Wisdom is against basically everything medical because they believe all things are cured by the laying on of hands on the spine.  PERFECT!  What's the catch?  To join the congregation requires a one-time 'donation' of seventy-five dollars.  SEVENTY. FIVE. DOLLARS.  Oh, and if you require an affidavit of membership with a statement about their stand on immunizations, include an additional fifteen bucks and we will express mail it to you.  I wonder how many other people who typed "is there a religion against flu vaccine" in their google search hit on the same page and how long this congregation has been around...

So, what is worse?  Being forced to do something you don't want to do with the threat of losing your job; or being exploited financially by people who cleverly found a very specific niche market of people just like me who are willing to go to great lengths not to be forced into an unwanted immunization?  In the end, my pocketbook won over my sense of outrage and my arm still hurts where they stuck me with that damn needle full of flu vaccine which I'm hoping doesn't mess with my already amazing immune system and isn't tainted with viral meningitis.

The Death of Us All

Death is no longer some thing in the future to be feared; the unknown of where and when and how lurking around some unidentified corner.  No, fifth grade math homework will be the death of us all.  No more mystery!  Death is here...

Big Sister is in her first month of fifth grade - learning a new math curriculum which is completely different than what I learned thirty years ago.  She has math homework every single night.  The book is next to useless - it makes vague statements with zero logical sense and that's it.  No examples.  No elaboration on what the concept is.  No context to glean meaning from.  Nothing.  I fought for two weeks for her to be allowed to bring the damn book home - raging every night about how the worksheets she was required to complete were like attempting to do math when all the words were written in Greek or Arabic.  But now I get why they don't bring the books home - there is nothing more in the books to go on.  So our nights - after dance of course - go like this:

1. Mom tries to interpret what the hell the worksheet is asking be performed.
2. Mom consults Dad to make sure they concur on the translation.
3. Mom tries to correlate the bullshit with what she knows and remembers from school.
4. Mom tries to translate the bullshit into logic and reason that she can impart to others.
5. Sometimes repeat one or more of steps 1-4.
6. Big Sister attempts to complete her math worksheet before NINE PM - most nights failing.

Seriously.  This is why kids don't like math.  The stigma is planted in fifth grade where instead of breaking each concept down into ideas that are attainable and which apply logic and reason - it is math after all, not abstract art - they hide the shit that I-know-very-well-you'll-have-to-use-every-day-of-your-life in this ridiculous core curriculum which was probably written by some dumb ass who was never a teacher in the first place.  He or she is probably living somewhere on a beach laughing about the idiots in Utah who believed him or her and bought all those books and workbooks and student worksheets funding his/her retirement.

Thanks for letting me rant.  If you've avoided fifth grade math after you lived through it yourself the first time, consider yourself lucky.  If it looms in your future, please accept my condolences.  The irony of this whole thing?  I LOVE math and I kicked ASS at math when I was in school.  Go figure... all it takes is slapping some new convoluted bullshit with a fancy shmancy title of "new common core" to completely disintegrate my own math knowledge and confidence. Why yes it's a Monday and yes I'm drinking - why do you ask?

Myth busting

Ever heard someone say it is so much harder and more time consuming to cook dinner every night?  Or that eating healthy costs so much more money?  Or that wearing special shoes or taking a miracle pill will help you tone your body and lose weight?  Well today I'm putting on my myth-buster hat and tackling all of these.

We'll start with "it's so much easier to pick up fast food on your way home from work rather than cook dinner" with a peek into a day of my life.  This particular day was crazier than most.  I headed off to work in the morning leaving Baby Sister with her nanny after scooting Big Sister out the door to walk to school.  (Yes, my kid walks to school - shouldn't every kid?)  I worked a typical day except that I had to leave a couple of hours early since Big Sister's dance studio decided once again to conduct business as if none of the dance moms actually work outside the home.  Meaning specifically that she had to be in full hair and make-up and across town by 4:30 for the annual team photo shoot.  Awesome, since I don't usually get off work until 5:30.

I left the office at 3:00, rushed home while project managing Big Sister's efforts from the phone in the car, and did the fastest make-up and hair I think I've ever done including ringlets.  Big Sister has stick straight and super thick hair - I love that she did not get my curls except for when she wants curly hair and it becomes a chore.  Thank god for my Chi and my ability to use it for creating curls in addition to it's straightening properties.  Of course Murphy was alive and well since the shirt I'd bought her the night before was too big through the chest when she put it on.  I had to get creative with safety pins because I didn't have time to whip out the sewing machine to take in the sides. We left the house only ten minutes behind schedule leaving Baby Sister with Daddy and hoping they were correct that the shoot would only take an hour. Pictures were fabulous and we were headed back across town by 5:30 now hoping traffic wasn't too bad.

This was also the night of our first neighborhood walk-about which we never miss.  During warm weather months, two or three different families host little block party gatherings so that everyone can wander around and mingle with each other, catch up on gossip and meet any new people who have moved in.  It started at 6:30.

Here's where the myth comes in.  Considering I only had an hour to drive across town, feed my kids dinner and head out to the next activity,  society would say I had to pick up either burgers or a $5 Hot n' Ready pizza on my way home.  But NO!  Instead I went straight home, browned up some ground turkey, made it into taco meat and served my kids taco's.  Well, Big Sister prefers to eat her taco fixin's atop corn chips instead of in the crunchy shells and Baby Sister prefers little individual piles of cheese and meat, etc to eat as finger foods so basically, I ate tacos.  The point is, it took me no more time than it would have to sit in the long ass line I passed at the Wendy's as I drove by.  Not to mention how much healthier my choice of meals was by comparison.  Plus, now I have an extra pound of taco meat in my fridge to eat left-overs in the next couple of days when I'm in an even tighter pinch for dinner - say tonight when Big Sister has to be at the dance studio by 6:30.

I cook ninety-five percent of the time at home.  It isn't always quick and easy but it is always better than anything else I could feed my family.  The extra effort this activity requires is actually on the front end when you're doing your grocery shopping.  I usually have the basics on hand like spaghetti (I make my own amazing and authentic sauce) or homemade macaroni and cheese (that actually uses cheese and milk instead of powdery blobs of orange chemical concoctions you get in the box).  Then I mix things up with a few preplanned meals in mind for the week.  We always have tons of fresh fruit in the house and the crisper drawer is always full of veggies.  With a little creativity I can throw together many a meal just by opening the refrigerator - even if I don't know exactly what's for dinner before I walk in the door from work.

It makes me wonder who exactly "they" are that says it is so much easier to buy crap from a fast-food joint and eat out of a bag every night.  Probably the people marketing the crap in a bag from all those different places who only care about their bottom line.  And let's talk about cost!  I can feed my family of four for an entire week buying the ingredients to cook my own meals on less than what it would cost to eat out just one meal a day for that same week.  This is based on fact since we had way more money left over at the end of the month once we started eating in versus when we were subscribing to the marketing ploys.  This was also before I'd pulled my head out of my ass about things like processed foods and high fructose corn syrup evils. 

With obesity rates in adults and children alike continually rising, I wonder how long before the general population demands better choices in their food that contribute to better health instead of sacrificing long-term health for the convenience of a packaged dinner or fast food slop.  Most of the food we eat isn't even real food when you look at the ingredient label.  When was the last time you had to list the ingredients on a head of lettuce or a bundle of bananas?  Even more frightening is how many people I talk to who never even glance at the ingredient list of the 'food' they consume every day.  When you cook your own meal, using real whole foods you know exactly what you are eating and feeding to your kids.

There was a story in the Washington Post this week about how Sketchers are settling a lawsuit for $40 million.  Turns out they were lying when they said wearing their funny looking shoes would tone your lower body without stepping foot into a gym.  You can't tone your lower body by wearing a pair of shoes and sitting on your ass all day any easier than you can lose weight and keep it off by eating some fad diet or taking some pill that causes side effects worse than just keeping the extra weight on.  You have to eat real food to nourish your body and burn more calories than you take in every single day.  Period.  There's no other way around it.  Trust me, I've tried it all (minus surgical measures where I drew the line).  When is society as a whole going to wake up and realize that corporations are only after one thing - to make money by selling us crap we don't need - and start listening to common sense again?

I challenge you - if you aren't doing it already - try cooking for a week and see how easy it really is.  You don't even have to have a recipe box that your mom or grandma handed down to you anymore.  All you need is Google - recipes for everything and anything are right at your fingers.  It's an amazing world out there!  And if you want a quick, easy to read, common sense book on how to incorporate real food back into your diet, I highly recommend "In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto" by Michael Pollan.  That little book was partly what changed my life years ago and should be required reading for every American - in my humble opinion.

Ballsy Bitch

It's been so long since I had something really great to rant and rave about and the Universe must have realized I needed an outlet for it because it delivered up an opportunity so rare this week I almost can't believe it. Here's some background so we are all on the same page...  I live in the glorious state of Utah where the lines between Church and State are more often blurred than not.  Contrary to popular belief, not every resident of Utah is a Mormon.

(OOPSIE, did I mention this is a religious and political post?  Here's your disclaimer and chance to bail as if the fact I warned you I would be proceeding with a rant and/or rave wasn't enough, right?)

Big Sister is in the fourth grade and I found a gem of a fire-starter in the sty of her backpack.  It was a worksheet with twenty questions where you have to fill in the blanks to complete the sentence.  When I saw it I was so enraged and immediately asked Big Sister what it was.  She said "Mom, before you get mad, Ms X told us to make sure when our parents got mad that they were teaching religion at school to tell you that it is against the law for her to teach us about the beliefs of any religion and that this is just about the history of Utah."  Clearly the teacher suspected that there would be flak in regards to this little worksheet.  She was not wrong.  Which begs the question, why proceed when you already know it is questionable material?

In response to this worksheet I drafted the following letter which I sent to the principle via email:

Dear Principal,

My fourth-grade daughter brought home school work from what she says was Utah History but which appears to have nothing to do with Utah History.  Instead, it is teaching her about Mormon specific church history.  Where is the separation of church and state when it comes to curriculum?  When I questioned her about what it was, she had already been given a response from the teacher - Ms X who is not her homeroom teacher - who had apparently told the students how to respond when their parents asked why they were learning about religion.  Her rationalization was that because she was not instructing them on the belief system of a religion then it was okay to teach since this was about how Utah was founded.  While there is no disputing the historical fact that Utah was settled by Mormon pioneers escaping religious persecution, tell me why the following questions (taken directly from the worksheet) were relevant to that discussion:

Mormons was a nickname for people who belonged to a new church.
Joseph Smith was the first leader of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
The church was started in New York state in 1830.
Mormons sent missionaries to teach about their church.
Wherever the Mormons went, they were always forced to move, because no one liked them.
They moved from New York to Ohio, to Missouri, then to Illinois.
People did not like the Mormons, because Mormons believed their church was God's true church. (Not teaching about beliefs?)
Mormons religious beliefs often upset people who were not Mormons.
There was also problems with their neighbors over politics and land.
Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum were shot and killed in Illinois by a mob.

Out of the 20 questions on the worksheet, I believe only the following statements would be considered relevant to UTAH history:

Moving west took much planning.
The pioneers were going to move more than 1,000 miles.
To help the Mormons move, there were only wagons, horses, mules and oxen.

However, I also believe that the not-so questionable statements could be presented even more non-religiously by referring to them as pioneers instead of Mormons.  With respect to the settling of Utah, it is completely irrelevant what religion the pioneers who first came here were.  Besides, there were Catholic missionaries here long before the Mormon pioneers if we are talking about historical facts...

I expect that if my child is learning the history of the Mormon church that she would also be required to learn the same story about where the Catholic church started, who the first Pope was and when the first congregation was established in the Utah valley.  Same with the Protestants, the Baptists, etc.  I know I am not alone in my concern with the way this curriculum is being presented and would appreciate your addressing it immediately.  If you would like a copy of the worksheet I can provide that as well.

Regards,

One of my closest friends who herself is the mother of a fourth grader at the same school told me I was the only person she knows with balls big enough to actually send that to the principal.  Is it my outrage at the social injustice of the matter or is it merely my argumentative and bitchy nature that fueled my sending the letter?  It's probably a little bit of both.  Having grown up here "in the land of Zion" amidst all the religious overtones and outright judging where your choice of religion is the number one topic of inquiry when you first meet a person, I'm a little sensitive to protecting that pesky right of religious freedom that was given each American in the Constitution.  I believe that extends to the right of my children to be educated by the public school system with zero inference or interference by any religion.  Period.  Before you get all outraged, I stand by the last paragraph of my letter.  If they wanted to introduce a world religion class that gave equal time to studying the basics of every religion of the world, not only would I embrace the prospect of my child learning more about diversity, I would not react to this subject matter since it would then be a valid form of school work.  But they weren't teaching that, were they?  Nope.  This was supposed to be either a History lesson or at the furthest stretch a Social Studies lesson.  Either way, giving my kid facts about a single religion's history instead is not acceptable

In my opinion it's no different than giving your own spin on history just because you like your version better than the plain old facts. But then again, we do that every Thanksgiving where we celebrate the Pioneers and the Indians and their harmonious feasting, don't we?  Instead of sugar coating what really happened in our past we should own it - we came here, declared the native people savages, took the land from them, slaughtered them when they defended themselves and in the end rounded all the survivors up to be banished to the crappiest land around, never to leave it.  That is what Thanksgiving really celebrates... but that isn't what we tell our elementary aged children.  And this is just one example.  Lucky for my kids, they have parents who round out their education at home in both religion and history.

Religion is a deeply personal thing and as such should be taught in the home, not the school.  But, I live in Utah where every Junior High and High School has a little annex building just barely off of school property where any kid who wants is allowed to have a free period to walk there and attend Seminary classes - but only of the one religion...  Hubby was even ranting the other day about how another religion - I think the Catholics but don't quote me on that for sure - were wanting to purchase land for the same reason near the site of a new high school and were being blocked from doing so.  How is that fair?

Bottom line, I wish the separation of church and state was taken far more seriously in our country and especially in my own public school system.  Look at where the Middle East got when they decided to rule their country based on their majority religion.  We need to take religion out of the political arena, too - who cares what religion any one candidate is?  By judging his or her religious beliefs as being better or worse than any other candidate's it fundamentally erodes their Constitutional right to freely practice whatever religion they choose free from discrimination and persecution.  If I'm not mistaken that's why the Puritans came to America and *oddly enough* the Utah pioneers came west.  But I digress...

I did get a response from the principal that she would be looking into the situation and would get back to me.  I can't wait to hear what they have to say about it all!

All I get are book reviews? What is happening!

I've been so busy I somehow forgot I'm a blogger.  I may have forgotten I'm a writer for a little bit, too.  Right now all I am is a mom and a runner...  And I'm not even doing either of those very well. 

Wow, doesn't that sound like a pity party?  If I were one of you, my faithful if anonymous followers, I might shake my head and mutter about the downer and stop reading.  But, guess what - life is as full of downers as it is uppers.  And I'm not talking about little pills either.  So, instead of suffering alone, I'm sharing with the world - my small corner of it anyway - and hoping somehow it is the key to turning it all around and getting me out of the current slump.

It isn't even a slump really.  I'm just overwhelmed with my life.  It happens.  Occasionally. 

Hubby isn't happy with his job.  I'm not happy with my job.  Big Sister is, I'm hoping, a typical nine year old who would rather lolly-gag and watch TV than pick up after herself regardless of how often I yell at her and ground her and take away her phone.  Little Sister is in the full blown "terrible two's" and is constantly throwing tantrums and screaming when she doesn't get her way.  Hubby's work schedule - at the job he hates - has begun interfering with everything from co-parenting to my running and we barely get to see each other.  I have the equivalent of a part time job on top of my regular full-time day job in required after-hours support.  And, I haven't written a thing in weeks - unless you count a couple of book reviews.  Oh, and I am so busy both at work and at home that it's been days since I got to talk to my friend who abandoned me at work and who I miss desperately.  You know, now that I think about it this can all be blamed on her - since she left there is no one around who lets me vent and keeps me sane.  Great.

So, that's my life in a nutshell. 

Plus, I'm freaking out about Ragnar because I've been so crazy busy the last two weeks that I haven't gotten to run regularly and now we only have about three weeks of training time left before the big show.  Oh, and did I mention that we've had to replace five of the twelve team members in the last few weeks?  Yeah, try finding runners insane enough to even consider doing this relay race who aren't already on a team and who are willing to jump in with only a few weeks left to train.  It is pretty difficult.  Luckily I know a lot of people but we've pushed the limit on scraping the barrel so hopefully it is over.

Oh, and did I mention that I need to have my wisdom teeth removed?  Yeah, I'm thirty nine and I still have my wisdom teeth - don't judge.  And the recovery time is going to either interfere with Ragnar OR trump our trip back to Glacier we had planned... Do you see why I'm a wreck these days?

I do have stolen moments here and there like glimmers of light to cling to in the darkness and keep me going.  Book club last week was amazing and the brief brainstorming session with a fellow writer afterward may have finally gotten me past the little block I had going with moving forward on my novel.  Although I haven't had a chance to write, I'm constantly thinking about the characters and the story line and wondering where it is going to take me.  Dance season is over so I'll get a month off from the shuttling back and forth three nights a week and school is out next week so my mornings will get less intense.

So, if you find yourself wondering where I've been and why all I've been posting are a few book reviews, picture me screaming through life with a toddler on my leg and my hair on fire juggling more than my usual share.  And with this picture in your mind, I hope you'll forgive me...

New inspiration

I, now more than ever, want to flog my stupidvisor (no, that is NOT a type-o).  I won't bore you with all the idiocy about how many times he says he "will" {fill in the blank}, the future never actually coming to pass; or how yesterday I got to sit across a desk in a one on one meeting and be the one mentoring HIM on how better to lead our team with what I would consider common sense things.  No, instead I'm going to tell you about my amazing writer's group who have given me the inspiration I need to *finally* finish my novel and do what I really want to do.

First, I've taken a semi-sabbatical from Facebook.  No, I didn't deactivate my account but I took it out of my tabs that auto load every time I open my browser.  Now that little tab isn't staring me in the face beckoning me to come and waste valuable time when I sit down to my computer.  It's amazing the writing you can get done in fifteen minute chunks of time here and there which would otherwise be wasted just staring at all the links and videos people post trying to sift through to find noteworthy status updates from people you haven't seen in years and who you probably wouldn't recognize if you saw them on the street.

My writing group meeting with our real-life-published-author has really motivated me to get back to writing my novel.  Bottom line, the only major difference between her and any of the rest of us is that she actually finished her manuscript and edited and polished it so she could shop it around (a brutal and painful process though it was) and finally land a deal.  So, step one: finish my manuscript.  Should have been a no-brainer, I know, but hey I've been a busy girl!  Doing the writing exercise was amazing.  To see things I do in other people's writing and learning from each other... it was a fun night full of learning.  And looking back at where we started and how far all of our writing has progressed shows the amount of hard work we've put into learning the craft.  You can't go out and run a marathon without training and the last few years for me have been training for the marathon of writing a novel.  It's almost race day... I can feel the anticipation.  My characters are back, swirling through my head and whispering things to me.  I just need to *gasp* outline the basics of the story (I'm a discovery writer mostly) and work out a few more things that happen in the middle to get to the ending I envision and it will be time to hit the starting line.  Wish me luck!

If you want it done right, do it yourself...

I'm very unsatisfied with my day job right now.  I have a supervisor who is totally disengaged from the team and is making changes that don't make sense catering to the lowest performers at the expense of those of us who actually do the work.  Morale is so low, the only thing keeping me there right now are the amazing benefits and the fitness center which allows me to run during the workday.  Seriously, those two things.  Pretty shitty, I know.

Am I bitter because I didn't get the job when I applied for it a year and a half ago?  I thought so in the beginning but the candidate they hired over me can only earn my respect if he actually does a better job than I would have done at managing the team.  Which he hasn't.  I think almost two years is enough time to know for sure that he sucks.

So yeah, I guess I am bitter.  But do you blame me?

I'm coping by recommitting to my novel.  My good friend Christauna just got a publishing deal for her first book so I know it is possible.  And she learned everything in the same place as I did - our writer's group.  How cool that it started as a few people who wanted to write and started meeting to support one another in our efforts to learn the trade and now there's a real life published author in our midst!

I can't wait for the day that one of two things happen.  1) the idiot supervisor's plan results in a major system outage that puts his ass on the line and gets him fired (or worse, the technical lead decides she's had enough after 30 years); or 2) I get a publishing deal of my own and I can tell them to take this job and shove it so I can just be a writer!

In the meantime, instead of focusing on the negatives and all the bullshit where they are under-utilizing my skill set and hobbling me, the overachiever, with a job I can do with both hands tied behind my back and from which I currently get no job satisfaction, I will focus on how amazing it is to get paid my salary for doing very little and use the downtime and stress-free time to finish my novel.

We'll see how long that lasts...

Best laid plans and the destruction of serenity

Today was a rare day... a day just for ME!  Well, kind of... more like a couple of hours in the afternoon but hey, I'm a Mom, I'll take what I can get, right?  Big Sister had her annual talent show at school this morning and while I tried to make it work for me to go to work AND make it to support her, logistically it just wasn't going to happen so I took the whole day off at the last minute.  Our amazing nanny spent the day with Little Sister as planned which meant that after I got home from the talent show at noon, I had five glorious hours to do whatever I wanted.

I filled the first hour with a good lunch and a chat with the nanny who it feels like I haven't talked to for ages except for snippets of instructions and reports as we pass each other in the morning and evening.  The plan for the afternoon was a seven mile run which I had plenty of time for and which I was going to do outside.  Until I was all dressed and ready to go and realized that was the wind howling in the eaves and banging against the windows I was hearing and decided it would be miserable.  So, I changed my running gear configuration for the indoor apparel and headed for the gym instead.  Still on schedule for a great two hours to be spent with my current audio book on the iPod and a treadmill followed by a relaxing "soak" in the sauna. 

That was the plan, anyway.  What actually happened only slightly resembled that plan.  I stretched, I warmed up, I was stoked for the run, the iPod was going, I was already anticipating the endorphins and the joy that comes with running and the smile to hit my face... and then I ramped up the treadmill and immediately was wincing in pain.  No matter what I did, my knees were both killing me with every step and I couldn't run through it like I usually can after the first few minutes.  I was limping and I knew it would never happen, and actually shouldn't or I was asking for an injury.  So I struggled through a mile - because I can't sync my run with Nike and publish it to Facebook without at LEAST a mile, right? - and threw in the towel.  Well, I could still sit in the sauna - which I did and that was amazing but I felt like I was wasting my valuable time when I could be doing something different.  So, I grabbed my mid-afternoon snack in the cafe with a book I just happened to have tucked into my gym bag because you never know when you might need a book.

But the music at the gym is loud and piped in everywhere.  I couldn't concentrate on my book.  My mind started wandering and thinking about how appealing tucking myself into a quiet corner of somewhere - anywhere - and just reading for an hour sounded.  Decadent, actually.  But where?

The library!  I'll go to the library!

Actually, the first thought was a coffee shop but how insane is it that there isn't a single coffee shop between the gym and the library which is a ten mile drive?  So, the library it is.

I don't know about you, but the library in my mind evokes images of hushed and whispering old ladies and plastic covered books being checked out; images from childhood of my mother and every other adult around me shushing me if I even thought of raising my voice to a normal pitch instead of the whisper required for the hallowed halls of the library.  A soothing and peaceful hour with a good book in that kind of space was exactly what I was craving.

What I got was a big slap in the face of reality.

Know what I found at my neighborhood library?  People who didn't give a shit that they were in a library.  People who were talking to each other like they were in the aisle at the Walmart or worse, their own kitchens.  People who were NOT instilling in their offspring any reverence for the building they were inside of - when you are talking to your child in a loud inside voice from halfway down the aisle, they aren't going to think anything of using their outside voice to answer you.  I had the audacity to shush one little boy - approximate age 4 - and he glared at me with daggers shooting from his eyes.  I smiled with my finger against my lips while his Dad - who had pulled his head out of the computer screen he'd been sucked into most likely by the absence of noise from his snot-nose little brat - said "Carter, she's just asking you to be quiet in the library."  To which the lovely Carter responded - loudly - "I don't like being quiet" and ran off.  Minutes later the same twosome could be heard playing their version of Marco Polo through the stacks because Dad couldn't find Carter and apparently Carter was now scared that he'd run away and couldn't see Dad anymore.  At the same time, the reference desk, which was about 20 feet from the chair I'd picked because of the low height of it's seat in relation to the floor for added comfort appeal for my short legs, was manned by a woman of the appropriate old lady hair variety but without the appropriate library tone to match.  She was having a conversation with a co-worker that had nothing to do with the library and which sounded more like gossip than a conversation and they were talking so loud that I actually found myself shushing THEM.  When they didn't notice, I left the area in search of somewhere a bit more out of the way.

Location number two I should have known better than to pick but when I approached the kids corner with the love sacks all deserted and beckoning with it's quietness, I couldn't resist.  That comfy spot lasted all of about five minutes until the idiot mother with her five kids in tow herded them all to the area to talk - LOUDLY - about all the books they had picked and review their selections before heading to the checkout desk.  I might have mumbled some obscenities under my breath as I leaped up and headed for another corner.  I don't quite remember, but I hope I did!

Location three lasted a bit longer - it was a nice, quiet corner with an equally aged adult, her books sprawled across a table, clearly and intently studying and lost in thought.  I sat down, got comfy, got engaged in my book, and then there was a dog lose in the library.  I kid you not.  A. DOG.  And of course the dog ended up with me, don't ask me why.  He must have sensed that I was looking for some peace and viewed me as a kindred spirit.  After the workers collected the dog - but not before they sat next to me trying to read the tags and made a LOT of noise - I had another few minutes of somewhat quiet where the din of the library patrons was only slightly intruding on the edges of my hearing.

And then the baby started crying.

And by crying, I really mean wailing - at the top of it's lungs.

And didn't stop for what seemed like ten minutes.

Enough that the other girl sitting there with her sprawled books trying to study turned to me in disgust to say "so much for a quiet library!"  (So see, I'm not over exaggerating here!)

At that point, I officially threw in the towel and headed back home to mom-land... where I proceeded to make certain that Big Sister knows that she is always supposed to be quiet in a library and can expect to be shushed and beaten if she ever isn't.  Did I miss a memo somewhere that states since the majority of people are now  all loud Americans who never know when to shut our pie holes that we are no longer required to do so at the library?  Or was it just an off day at my neighborhood branch?  I guess it doesn't really matter because next time I will drive out of my way to find that quiet coffee shop instead regardless of how inconvenient.

Thank you, today's library patrons, for ruining the library for me as anything more than a place to walk in, pick up a hold from the shelf and leave.  The craziest part?  The teenagers in the 'booths' at the back were the best ones in the joint!  All you adults should be ashamed of yourselves!

Emotional setbacks and rediscovery

It has been a roller coaster of emotions for me the last few weeks in the physical fitness department.  Topped off with a seriously depressing climax last week.  And as I've said before I wouldn't be an honest blogger if I didn't share the bad times as well as the good.  So here goes....

Remember Hubby and I both started HCG together and quit early because neither could give up the gym and are training for the same upcoming relay race.  I'm so glad we're both committed to living more healthily since it would be much harder to make healthy choices alone - which I've had to do in the past.  Plus, it is amazing to see a smile on his face now that he can play basketball again - something he thought would never happen with a bad back and recent ACL replacement.  He was always very active before his injuries and it's no surprise that he bounced back quickly.  He's lost thirty pounds and is back to looking like the Greek god I married sixteen years ago. 

All well and good except when I find myself comparing my slower results (which makes them feel like non-results) to his lickety-split total body transformation.  And feeling very jealous.  And resentful.  Such a girl response, I know.

Seriously, I'm happy for him.  Except I also hate him for it because it was so quick and easy while I work my ass of for less noticeable results.

Last month I worked with a trainer who laid out all my workouts for me and kept me accountable with weekly communication on how I'd stuck with it.  And I made it a very conscious choice to cut out all the bad stuff that I know I shouldn't eat - like desserts at lunch and sweets at night.  I felt like it made a huge difference.  Lifting weights has my upper body noticeably if not visibly leaner - I had to tighten my chest strap on my heart rate monitor, I can fit my upper arms in a shirt I've been hoarding and hoping to wear eventually and I can fit more comfortably in my bras. (Yah, less back fat!) So when it came time last week to see my trainer and do my assessment to see my progress in numbers and data I was less than happy to see that nothing had changed.  Nothing.  And according to her I'd actually gained body fat in my body composition.  How the hell does that happen?  I lifted weights three times a week, ran 15-20 miles a week on average and your numbers say that I gained fat?  What the fuck?

I won't lie.  There were tears... There was more than one f-bomb...  There were several outbursts with the words "bull shit".  All born from frustration since I expected it to be much better news after such efforts.  And after working this hard I want results like Hubby has, damn it!

I partially feel bad for my poor trainer who, two months in a row now, has had me in tears at our monthly assessment appointments.  Last month she talked me into signing up with her for a month of coaching.  Which didn't work.  And this month got me scheduled for my RMR testing - Resting Metabolic Rate - which I did Saturday and led to me signed up for a 9-week program with a nutritionist. (It makes sense... I'm exercising six times a week, both cardio and weights, and I should be dropping the weight like Hubby.  Since I'm not, I have to look at the nutritional aspect of it.  Preliminary discussions with both the trainer and the nutritionist have them thinking that I'm under eating.  Lovely... then where's the cookies?)  But I also am a bit unhappy with my trainer for not first focusing on the good things that I had to find out for myself by looking at my data AFTER I got home.  My upper body strength rating has gone from 50 to 63 in just one month.  My sit and reach rating has gone from 10 to 12 in a month.  My VO2 lung capacity has gone from 27 to 29 - in a month!  But what did we focus on?  Just the bad... I was disappointed looking back since that's not the kind of motivation I want or need.

At the same time, something a good friend said had me wondering.  She made the comment that she thought her trainer fudged her numbers to get her to sign up for more training.  Fudged as in made them sound better than she thought they were.  I'm sure she said it in jest but the logical animal that I am started analyzing my data collecting.  The body composition number is calculated by a three-site skin fold reading with calipers.  They have a fancy shmancy one attached to a computer plus cheesy manual ones.  I've done these readings three times now.  The first time, sites one and two were computer read, the third manual (since I had my slippery pants on and it kept sliding off).  The second time, all three sites were computer read (no slippery pants).  This last time, all three were manual readings.  I'm thinking that the inconsistency of the data collection not ever being the exact same method has to be a factor.  Right?  Plus, why is this the only thing measured?  Oh, and two of the sites are skin to caliper but the other is over my pants?  Seems less than scientific in my mind.

It's human to want to have some external factor to blame and I'm not discounting that this train of thought might just be rationalization.  If it is, I'm fine with that. This is just my ranting and raving and trying to deal with the shit my way anyway, right?

Thank god I'm an analytical, data-hungry girl and for years now have done basically quarterly and sometimes monthly measurements.  These measurements - in my handy dandy spreadsheet - give me valuable insight into how my efforts are actually paying off.  While I wanted to just throw in the towel, say to hell with it all and grab a pint of ice cream with a side of girl scout cookies (because either way I'm not losing weight!) instead I did my monthly measurements.  Because despite it all I was curious.

I'm so glad I did!  Guess what - I've lost inches everywhere except my thighs which have stayed the same.  AND, I'm thinner according to the measurements than I was at my lowest scale weight a year ago.  Which means I've added twenty pounds of pure muscle thanks to my efforts over the past year.  Go me!  Definitely not the dismal picture painted by the earlier skewed or at least questionable numbers.

Another aspect of my roller coaster ride came to light last week when I realized that I no longer look forward with joyous anticipation to my runs.  Really?  I love to run!  I used to wake up in the morning and immediately start thinking about when I was going to get to run that day.  Now I've skipped a couple due to lack of motivation.  So I started taking stock and trying to determine what is different.  The only thing that has changed is that instead of just running and concentrating on how many miles I need to run, I've been doing what the trainer has told me to do for heart rate zone training.  I am a short girl at five foot two inches with squatty legs, which means I can't run very fast anyway.  And now I'm having to run slower to keep my heart rate in the "right" zone.  My legs hurt more from running slower and I'm just not having any fun when I have to worry about how high my heart rate is going.  I thought it was worth it because keeping my heart rate in the proper zone to burn more fat was the goal.  But it clearly hasn't given me the trade off I was expecting.

Yesterday it all changed.  I headed out on an eight mile run.  Before I left I mapped out my route using the MapMyRun website.  I strapped on my heart rate monitor so I could make sure I stayed in zone two and three so I was at least aerobic in my efforts.  I charged up my iPod for an hour so it would have a full battery for the two hours it was required to play for.  And I fired up my cool new app on my Droid phone to see exactly how far I went according to GPS so I could calibrate my Nike+ foot sensor when I got back - because I don't think it is calculating my mileage accurately lately.  Yes, I'm a gadget geek.  Are you really surprised?

Halfway through my chilly, mildly rainy run, right after it turned mostly uphill with a headwind... yeah, it was not really fun at that point... my heart rate monitor stopped registering on my watch.  I tried to fiddle with the strap through my clothes and finally gave up.  About ten minutes later my GPS lost the signal from the satellite so no data to calibrate with my foot sensor.  SHIT!  Twenty minutes later after forty minutes of sustained uphill - have I mentioned how much I hate uphill running? - with the wind strongly blowing into my face I stopped, screamed FUCK YOU into the wind at the top of my lungs, and turned around to go back the way I came instead of finishing out my loop.  About five minutes later my iPod battery died.

Seriously?  Are you kidding me?!?!  EVERY. SINGLE. GADGET.  With the exception of my Nike+ which I was questioning before I even left.

Turns out, it was the Universe talking to me... 

With no gadgets to obsess about, no hill to be running up and the wind at my back I rediscovered how much I love to run.  Just run.  Not caring about how fast my damn heart is beating.  Because guess what, if it is beating too high and I'm up in the anaerobic regions I get out of breath and I naturally slow down.  And who cares how far I go when I go except for bragging rights on Facebook and Twitter and as a way to gauge how soon I'll need a new pair of running shoes.  Without the iPod distraction I even noticed the wheat fields and horse corrals I was running past which I have only vaguely registered before.  That horse running around the corral?  It was super pretty with it's mane and tail swishing spiritedly.  Thank you, Universe... I'm listening.

I'm going back to basics and, other than the nutritionist, I'm not dropping any more money in personal training and gimmicks at the gym.  I'm a smart girl... I can google workouts for weight training and I can read articles on how to improve speed and endurance for my running.  Hell, there's probably an app for that, too, I just have to look!  And without all the pressure to perform perfectly I might just relax and have some fun while I'm at it.

So while this particular roller coaster ride of emotions had me feeling more down than up, I have turned it around and am re-focused on me and the things that I want to do.  Do I still secretly hate hearing that number read off joyously every morning when Hubby steps on the scale?  Of course... I'm a chick!  But it doesn't have to stab me in the heart anymore because I know how exciting it is to see results and I want that for him as much as I want it for me.  Maybe the stress released by this decision will free up some of my stubborn fat cells... they say stress will inhibit weight loss after all.  Either way, here's to a much more enjoyable month ahead with more measurable results for my efforts!

Music fuels the soul

I'm not one of those people who knows a ton about all different kinds of music.  All the music I own doesn't even fill up my 30 gig iPod (pathetic, I know!).  I listen to NPR (that's National Public Radio for the acronym challenged since I hate bloggers who assume everyone who is reading knows exactly what their acronyms mean...)  NPR is talk radio without left or right leaning spin - you know, the news as it used to be where they could only tell you the facts and let you make your own decision about how you felt about it?  Oh wait... I digress!  We were talking music not politics or the media.  My point being that when I'm in the car, which is the only time I listen to the radio, it isn't music I'm listening to.  I'm not one of those people who knows every band on the planet and where each is from and where they got their musical inspiration.  Although I know some people who are like that and they intimidate the hell out of me.  Hell, I usually can't even name the band let alone the album the song was originally released on.

Even so, I have what I like to consider an eclectic mix of music.  I'm a child of the 80's and 90's and lots of my music hails from these time periods - from Madonna to hair bands and rock ballads.  But I also have things that I grew up listening to - I love CCR (Creedence Clearwater Revival) thanks to my Daddy (and if truth be told the Beach Boys, too although I don't actually have any of their stuff on my iPod) and the Carpenters thank to my Mom.  I am musical myself - played piano growing up which enabled me to take up the guitar as a teen which led to a stint in a garage band in my early 20's - so I also love classical music.  LOVE LOVE LOVE it.  So, yeah, I listen to everything - well, except country because that is not music in my book and I never understood the genre.  I even - reluctantly - like some of the music I'm hearing because of Big Sister like Selena Gomez and Miranda Cosgrove.  Don't judge.  I like some old-school rap thanks to my younger brothers, well, mostly just Eminem which makes no sense really.  My most embarrassing resident on the iPod is Barry Manilow but god I love singing along to him.  If asked to pick my favorite I tend to like heavy and loud the best - Metallica, Kiss, Disturbed, Marilyn Manson.  But I also love Sarah McLachlan and Matchbox Twenty and Avril Levine.  I can't get enough of bad-girl P!nk and anyone else who can belt out a great set of lyrics to heavy riffs.  I never got into show tunes - unless you count the Grease Soundtrack which is on there, too.  And the list goes on and on.  Every song representing a time in my life or a feeling it evokes when I hear it.

So, what's the point, you ask?

Yesterday I had the most amazing thing happen. 

Work has become a cesspool of idiocy where I'm surrounded by slackers who don't do much to actually earn the paycheck they collect every other week.  I might have mentioned this before.  Instead of work happening all around me, talking and gossiping and visiting is happening.  ALL. DAY.  It's one of the reasons why I prefer to work with men but, alas, the team is primarily women.  It's gotten bad lately mostly I think due to a lack of leadership from the puffed up smidgen of blow fish shit we call a supervisor.  If it isn't the unchecked womenfolk and their quilting bee bullshit, it's the guy on the next row over hacking up a lung and farting - not that I'm innocent of public farting occasionally myself but usually it isn't of the trumpeting variety - or the other guy who cackles like a woman when he gets nervous.  Which seems to be all the time.  The only way I've found to stave off the urge to step outside my cubicle and shout "SHUT THE FUCK UP" at the top of my lungs is to escape to the heaven of my iPod and Skull Candy ear buds.  Luckily I can still concentrate on the technical details of my job with metal blaring in my ears.

So what made yesterday so different than the countless days before it?  I'll tell you.

I had been listening to my latest audiobook on my run (which is heaven, by the way) and didn't have the time necessary to figure out what music I was in the mood for before my top blew so I fumbled for the "shuffle songs" selection and left it up to chance.  What ensued was the most magical twenty five minutes.  Every song the iPod selected for me fit my mood like a glove.  I found myself so distracted by the music that instead of allowing me to focus on my work it had me sitting and dancing in my chair hoping I could contain my urge to sing along out loud.  The genre's were different - Duran Duran, Violent Femmes, P!nk, KISS, 30 Seconds to Mars - but they were all songs that I loved, hadn't listened to in ages and which , yesterday, were the exact mix of music I needed to soothe my soul.

I don't know what it is about music that can transport me to a time or a feeling so completely but damn I'm glad it works that way for me.  And although I know my beautiful (yet old school) iPod is merely an inanimate object I love that it knows - at least some of the time - exactly what I need even when I don't know it myself.  IPod, I love you!  And thank you for keeping me out of the HR office this week even though I just realized it's only Tuesday...

Public Service Announcement

It's been a while since I got on my soap box about society here in America.  Today that ends, if just for a moment.  Several years ago we banned High Fructose Corn Syrup (HFCS) from our diet after I read the book "The Omnivore's Dilema" and learned the real nature of our "food" here in the States.  I was such a vocal bitch that all my friends and family heard about it and eventually hopped on the band wagon if only half-heartedly; well, most of them anyway.  Apparently I wasn't the only one.  Now, enough people in general have started reading labels that the food industry is having to change their tactics.  I heard the other day that they are going to relabel HFCS as "corn sugar".  Doesn't that sound so much more appealing and so much less harmful?  Yeah, I think that's the point.  What enrages me the most of late are the commercials where people are talking about how "they've done studies and, cane sugar or corn sugar, you're body doesn't know the difference".  Every time the variations of this commercial come on I literally yell "BULLSHIT" at the television at the top of my lungs.  Yes, I know they can't hear me but it sure makes me feel better.

Here's the truth in a nutshell for those of you who haven't read all the studies.  Yes, your body DOES know the difference and here's where it gets freaky.  Your stomach is not able to handle the digestion of HFCS, your liver has to do it.  And your liver can only process so much of it.  The excess the liver can't handle gets converted directly into triglycerides in your blood stream.  You know, that part of "bad" cholesterol that clogs your arteries and gives you heart disease?  Yeah, that.  Told you it was bad!  And even worse is the fact that HFCS is in everything - and I do mean everything - so you eat a ton of it without even knowing if you aren't paying attention..  Your yogurt that you think is healthy?  Check the label and chances are you'll find HFCS!  Your bread - yes, even the wheat variety.  Your milk can even have it in it!  So people please, start reading the ingredient lists on your labels and take control of your own health because trust me, the food industry isn't going to do it for you.  They are the ones feeding you propaganda on the television after all!  You can find practically everything - even soda - with real old fashioned natural cane sugar if you're willing to read every label before buying something.  Trust me, your arteries will thank you for your vigilance!

This past weekend I came across something even more frightening.  An article in the magazine put out by our gym was talking about how in one study they had taken cancer cells and fed them different forms of sugar to see how the cancer responded.  Apparently it was already well known that cancer cells thrive on all kinds of sugar but what they found is that high fructose corn syrup not only fed them but increased how fast they metabolized and split to multiply and MAKE. MORE. CANCER. 

HOLY SHIT!  I might just go to a diet of 100% whole and natural after reading that article!  If only it wasn't so expensive to eat "real" food in this country...

Time for another rant...

It has been quite some time since I had a rant and rave session... something necessary on a daily basis before I switched cubicles to one NOT on the aisle and therefore subject to all the crazies and their hallway meetings.  I'm in a really good area of the cube farm now... nestled between my supervisor who is off in meetings more than he's at his desk and the technical team lead who just works all day.  I realized after moving that the incessant chatter that drove me crazy and made my lack of a concealed weapon permit a good thing for those around me is not what the real problem is - it is when that chatter is NOT work related that I get crazed.  Since my move, I hear probably more chatter but because it is primarily work related, it doesn't bug me!

There are two people within earshot of my new cube who are in the bottom third of the productivity scale on my team... Today one of them had a group of two other slackers gathered and were discussing - wait for it - the eating habits of their dogs and why, when they feed their dogs and cats half of their food, they just can't understand how they don't lose weight.  At one point, I heard one of them proclaim that she'd found not eating an entire bag of potato chips at night had led to her dropping a few pounds.  Are you kidding me?  An ENTIRE BAG of potato chips by yourself?  My arteries closed up a bit and my stomach rolled at the thought of it!  Another one said she makes an extra grilled cheese just to feed to her greyhound.  Well, that might be why your diet of "feed the dogs what I eat" (yes, that's what she referred to HER diet as) isn't working since you are still consuming the same food but making extras to give to the dogs.  The conversation devolved into the dynamics of sharing a bed with multiple cats who demand their own pillows and I entertained thoughts of a .22 bullet.  I can only assume that these people are single women because I don't know a man who would put up with that kind of shit.  Although, clearly, I just might not know the right kind of people. 

One of these days, the insanity of how LITTLE work is actually performed at my work place by people expecting a paycheck every couple of weeks that they've done very little to earn will be exposed and something done about it.  In the meantime, I will quietly scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP" under my breath multiple times a week and rant and rave on the blog when that doesn't cut it. 

A ban I can support

I was struck today on the drive home that enough has not been said about the horrors of plastic bags... at least not from my own soapbox. Why aren't the rest of the cities of the world taking a queue from San Francisco and supporting a ban on plastic shopping bags? My opposition includes all the normal issues about how they are not biodegradable and most of them end up in the oceans where they either literally choke living things or break down into smaller pieces that totally mess with the DNA of those unlucky enough to ingest them. However, I have a much bigger beef than even that - the laziness of the average American. At this point in our history you would think we had learned SOME lessons from our recent history about re-using. During the early 19th century they had "rag and paper men" who's job it was to go to individual houses and collect rags from sewing and paper and take them away to be reused. Why, then, a century later, are we having to reinvent this and find ways to make recycling hip again? Every other developed nation in the world (well, OK, at least in Europe where I have personal experience) expects their citizens to bring their own bags when they do their shopping. So why is it a novelty that I get bitchy looks about from folks unlucky enough to be behind me at the grocery store checkout when my bagger is struggling to load my reusable bags with my purchases? I'm sorry my efforts at saving the planet interfere with your rush to be wherever you are heading. Several years ago when Ikea first appeared in my city, I thought it novel I was charged for the plastic bags I used to carry my purchases away and it was the first time it got me really thinking about the issue. Today, I get a credit for every bag I return to the store to reuse which is a nice incentive to get people to purchase the reusable bags but I think we should go farther. It should be a requirement that you go to the store with your own bags and if you don't you should be charged for the plastic ones you take away. Maybe if it hurt people in the only place most of us care about - the pocketbook - more people would be interested in making a difference that takes such little effort. Call me a hippie or a tree-hugger, call me a liberal fascist, just do it while you are reusing your own bags, please! I would rather see them banned altogether!

Inconsiderate and oblivious

What, exactly, is wrong with people? We were at a local restaurant a few weeks ago and what I observed is still bugging me. So here I am with more ranting and raving. Normally our beef is with the service or the food - why is it SO hard to find good service in the food SERVICE industry? This particular night, however, we had a fabulous waiter who was attentive without being at our table too often. No, the beef this night was with two workers - I think you call them hostesses? - who stood right behind our table performing the menial task of wrapping napkins around utensils. I get that it is a mindless type of duty but if you are standing adjacent to customers trying to eat would you really be as mindless as these two who stood there talking loudly and bothering multiple tables around them who could hear every word? A normal person would probably notice the annoyed stares from the patrons but these two were totally oblivious and carried on for 10 minutes. I wonder though, is it me who is just abnormal and this is what "normal" has become? More often than not the majority of people around me are inconsiderate and oblivious to their impact on others far outnumbering those who are considerate and observant. Is this a type of social evolution similar to where we think nothing of walking around with a telephone attached to our ear and carry on conversations inconsiderately imposing our chatter to others around us where without the technology it wouldn't be expected? I know I pay attention more lately to how my behaviour is impacting those around me - although is doesn't seem to be the normal thing to do. What a shame...

The phantom hand

Just when I thought I had figured out a way to deal with the insanity of my high traffic cubicle aisle - all hail the iPod playing very loudly in my ears - another anomaly has surfaced to drive me over the edge. The other day I'm sitting in my cube, working away, attempting to ignore the drivel of the two inconsiderate workers who just happened to stop right there to have a personal conversation and what do I see but a hand hanging over my cube. (reeee reeee reeee) I couldn't help but stare at it. It had hairy knuckles. It had a watch on a cheap band. I wanted to reach up and poke at it to warn the body attached that someone was on the other side of the wall. The hand still haunts me...

Other than the incredible diversity of people inhabiting the same floor as I do at work - which has really no bearing on what I'm doing there - I am truly enjoying my work at the new job. I have opportunity to grow and am working with old friends and new. And who can complain about a workplace that sets up multiple large viewing screens for the presidential inauguration yesterday and encouraged everyone to come to watch instead of killing the bandwidth in the building. It just doesn't get better than that!

New fence, old grass

I don't know what I was thinking - perhaps that I would swap my old grass for something greener on the other side of the fence? Why is it that people are forever falling for that old adage? While I am loving the new work digs for more reasons than not, today was the first day that I thought the honeymoon must be over... I am now, more than ever before, working in a typical cube farm. Literally my building has 4 floors and with the exception of the squatters from a different company on one of them they ALL LOOK THE SAME with cubicles as far as the eye can seen. The bathrooms are in the same place on every floor, the cubicles are all the same size, shape, color and layout on every floor and even the filing cabinets are in the same place on every floor. Several times I've gotten lost and wondered if I was going to have to go back to the elevator (if I could find it) to see what floor I was on and get my bearings. (I don't know what I'll do when the holiday decorations come down in my dept because that's the only way I know which cube is mine - first with the Halloween spiderwebs and now the Christmas tinsel to distinguish it from all the rest!) Today the thing that has irritated me the very most for the very longest time happened in the hallowed new environment like a bad acid trip returning.... The hallway meeting of inconsiderate coworkers! You know what I'm talking about, don't deny it (maybe you are one who does this!) Two people (or if you're on a lucky streak more of them!) stop right in the middle of the hallway on the other side of your cubicle partition - it is wrong to call it a wall since it doesn't even drown out the muffled sound of a cell phone vibrating from two cubes over let alone the mindless banter of the testers in the next row - and decide to have a meeting! One or more of them usually has a puffed up chest and loud, irritatingly obnoxious voice to go with it because subconsciously they know they are being listened to by a captive audience of at least 15 within earshot who have nowhere to go to escape but the shitters - and even then it probably won't drown out the noise. They talk loudly and at length about things more appropriately discussed in private - or sometimes even outside the work environment! - and never think once about the people they are disrupting with their incessant chatter! (I think I.T. people are the worst at this but it could also be just that it is what I know...) I was the lucky recipient of two of these lovely "meetings" right outside my cube today and I swear I almost stood and yelled at the top of my lungs - SHUT THE FUCK UP OR GET A ROOM!! People, be considerate that there might be folks working all around you before stopping for a "quick" chat... because trust me, there's nothing quick about the chatter of your bullshit when having to be endured by someone trying to work!

Medical Insanity

Okay, time for the soap box again.... I am thinking that everyone has gone a bit insane and has forgotten the secret to staying healthy is actually getting sick once in a while so we can actually build new immunities. What has set me off on this topic is the incessant bombardment about getting a damn flu shot I've had to endure in the last week. Remember, I work in health care now... Gawd help me! So let's break things down a bit. First, they spew all these crazy statistics about how dangerous it is to get the flu and how people DIE from it every year and how we must vaccinate against this deadly thing. HELLO, do we live in the dark ages? No, last time I checked it was the good ol' industrial age still. The reality is, that while there is indeed a very SMALL subset of the population who could benefit, there is very little actual risk to the typical person dying of the influenza virus. Which brings me to the second point. IT IS A VIRUS! Repeat after me, bacteria can be treated with antibiotics but if you go to the doctor and all you have is a virus they are going to tell you to get lots of rest and drink lots of fluids. Why? BECAUSE YOU CAN'T KILL A FREAKIN' VIRUS! Third, that crazy vaccine that they are injecting you with is last year's flu strain - which has already mutated as virus' are wont to do - and will not really protect you from much anyway. Just eat good food - you know, real food from whole plants and stuff with vitamins and minerals and all the good stuff nature intended for us - and you are going to be better off than getting that stupid shot. And if you don't believe me, remember what happened to those pesky invaders in War of The Worlds... We are building up immunities to everything around us that actually protect us from all the nasty things that are out there but only if we are actually exposed to them! Hey, while we are protesting the insanity, let's throw out the antibacterial hand crap and even the antibacterial soaps! And what do you say you don't wash your hands - unless of course you are in a public restroom or in a hospital where you might really catch some nasty bugs. And for the love of GOD, don't get a damn flu shot!