pet peeve #1

Getting a company-wide email at work and hearing people read it out loud. WE ALL GOT THE SAME MESSAGE. WE CAN ALL READ.

acupuncture #1

I get a lot of headaches, and when I say "a lot," I mean it.  "A lot" as in basically at least one every day for a month.  My boyfriend says it's been longer than a month, and maybe he's right.  I tend to play down the importance of the frequency of my headaches, largely because I don't want there to be something wrong with my brain so I pretend there's not.

Earlier this year I bought an online coupon for acupuncture.  It was a really good deal, and was the kick in the head I needed to finally try the treatment.  I had my first appointment a few days ago, and it was quite interesting.

My main goal is to get. rid. of. all. these. headaches.  I have lived too many days feeling like a Jetson (taking so many pills a day it’s as if I’m getting sustenance from them), and have wanted to try acupuncture, which has been approved by multiple health organizations that I’m too lazy to look up and link to as a headache treatment.

In preparation, I had to fill out a page of my health history and conditions, and another page of woman-specific health conditions.  Can you say “menses?”  Don’t.  I can’t stand that word.  It’s weird. 

Since traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) involves qi and the interconnectedness of the parts and organs in the body, some of the health condition questions were about my sleep schedule, pooping consistency (in all meanings of the word), appetite, various aches and pains, etcetera.  Basically, I had to let them know how my whole body has been doing.

My acupuncturist, K, was very informative.  I like learning new things, especially when I’m about to be poked with needles by a stranger.  I described my headaches and then she took my pulse(s).  Holding her middle three fingers on my inner wrist, she applied gentle pressure but would occasionally change which finger had the most pressure, as if I had a little wrist piano she was playing.  During this, she kept talking and asking questions (I want to know more about why she didn't have to stay quiet and count or something).  Then she switched to my other wrist.  While I was answering one of her questions, she interrupted me and asked if I have been feeling nauseous after eating, or have had little interest in eating lately.  Wow.  Yeah.  For a couple of weeks, I’d feel sick to my stomach after every meal.  It was distressing, and nothing I did to try to avoid the nausea helped, such as changing my diet, eating less, eating at different times of day, eating more frequently…nothing.  K replied that my spleen pulse was very irregular, which ties into the stomach and digestion, and that’s why she asked.  Neat.

Fast forward to the needles.  Now, I don’t mind needles, and I realize that many people are uncomfortable or have needle-phobias.  Here's the part where I describe the pokey part of my visit, so you may want to skip the next two paragraphs if you are sensitive to these things. I had a total of about 12 needles in me for 30 minutes.  Seven or eight in my arms/hands, one in a knee, and three in my feet.  I only felt one of them.  (K had said I should tell her if any of them was uncomfortable and she’d reposition it, but I didn’t realize it was twingeing until she had left.)  It wasn't bad, though; as long as I didn’t hold my arm in a certain awkward position, the needle was easy to ignore.  The idea is not to feel the needles.  They don’t go in deeply enough to draw blood, and are only the diameter of a couple hairs or something.

I leaned back in my recliner and shut my eyes, hoping to fall asleep to the ambient sounds/music coming out of the stereo in the corner.  Unfortunately whale songs don’t do it for me, apparently.  Yes, there were some whale songs playing with a piano in the background.  I didn’t realize how hippy-earthy it was until I concentrated, though.  Since I couldn’t sleep, I took some time to look at the needles sticking out of me.  It was only a little hard to get used to and become comfortable with seeing them attached to my skin.  I tested their staying power by gently wiggling my arms.  Then my nose itched so I had to move one arm to take care of that.  The needles were fine.  That made other parts of my face itch.  I had one needle in the top of my head, to promote relaxation.  That one made me slightly uneasy because I couldn’t see it, and I was worried that my long hair might get caught on the back of the chair for no good reason and pull the needle out, or I’d forget it was there and start practicing patting my head and rubbing my belly, thereby jamming the needle into my skull.  Thankfully, I was able to resist that.

That evening, I started getting ready for bed when I was tired, as is my norm.  When I looked at the clock, it was only 9:15p.  What?  Wow.  I’m NEVER tired at 9. And it’s hard for me to fall asleep at 11:30p or 12:30a, even if/when I am feeling tired.  K and I had talked about my issues falling and staying asleep, which she said made sense with the other things I had described.  She said that treating my headaches would likely help my sleeping issues, but I did not expect to feel same-day results. 

I slowed down my going-to-bed processes a bit when I realized how early it was, but I was in bed around 10 anyway.  I started a crossword puzzle, which I typically enjoy doing to unwind at the end of the day, but could not keep my eyes open.  When I shut my light off, it wasn’t even 10:30.  I was delighted, though thankfully not so excited about sleeping that my adrenaline kept me awake.

Appointment #2 is today.  I am excited for it. 

Even more good news:  since my appointment, I have had only one headache that I needed to take medication for.  Holla.

Encouragement

Well, here is a first in my life.  I have been "encouraged" to look for a new job.  By my boss.  


Wow, thanks, lady.


Apparently they can take only so much of my tardiness (including five minutes' worth), and two mistakes in a month is too high to tolerate now.


Granted, she and I had a meeting Monday wherein she asked me what I like to do. I answered generally first, then named things about my current position that I enjoy.  Perhaps I should have lied more.  
True, the things that feed my soul are nowhere to be found in my job.  True, she said it was obvious that I'm not happy here, and that chances are "we're" going to keep having problems if I don't enjoy my work.  True, I've been wanting a different job for, oh, more than a year.  I suppose now the fire under me is lit.


Positives: 

• my boss will "work with" me so that I can go to job interviews with little interruption in my work day, and make everything smooth with my teammates so they don't have to know what's going on.  (I think that last part is true.  I should probably check with her.)
• I finally have to do this.

Sigh.  It feels pretty ridiculous that I have gotten to be 29 years old before giving in to the fact that I just cannot effectively do a job long-term if I don't believe in what I'm doing.  Better late than never.  So here I go.


"There are many talented people who haven't fulfilled their dreams because they over thought it, or they were too cautious, and were unwilling to make the leap of faith."
-James Cameron


"All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous unpremeditated act without benefit of experience."
-Henry Miller

I dreamed I was in a sketch comedy stage show for schoolkids. The cast was roughly 30 people. In the sketch about invasions, my line, delivered in a ridiculously whiny voice, was, "But Rome never let us leave last time!"
I have no idea what that is about.
There were also animals for the circus sketch: I found three baby elephants wandering around and was overjoyed.
They were about the size of baby goats when I found them, but they could shrink even smaller to be the size of dimes. When they were that small, they were just images of elephants on round white erasers. This delighted me, since it meant I could carry them everywhere in my pocket! However, because I didn't understand what magic made the elephants able to do this, I wasn't sure that they wouldn't get squished or suffocate in my pocket. My solution was to tie the erasers together (as if they were marching trunk-to-tail) and carry the trio in my outstretched palm.
The trick to getting the calves to grow again was simple: love them.  When it was time to rehearse the animal skit, I laid the erasers in a line in the floor backstage. Kneeling down, I put my face close to the first eraser. I whispered loving affirmations to the tiny elephant while petting him and slowly he grew, with the others following.
This took place a few times during the course of rehearsals and the performance. I eventually tried paying as much attention to the second and third babies, since I noticed they didn't seem to be getting quite as large as they were when I found them.
The guilt of neglecting elephant calves is heart-shattering.
Somehow, yarrow plants also featured, with mythical alpaca-like animals who survived on them. They were too unpredictable to have in our stage show.

Again?!?!

Really, Facebook?  This didn't resonate with you, so you one-upped yourself?  

Now Facebook is suggesting I friend an ex's mom.  I don't know how fb even knows to do this, because I'm not friends with that ex on fb.  I don't even think he's active on fb, though I have no way of knowing for sure.  Either way, we have no friends in common.

What the crap.  How does technology know these things???  STOP IT, INTERWEBS.  You have proved your superiority.  Now get out of my head.

Like a Prayer for Sleep

Never again.  Never again will I take two Excedrin tablets and listen to Madonna's Like a Prayer before bed.

Apparently, I haven't treated many headaches with Excedrin lately.  Therefore, when I took some for a growing headache last night, the caffeine in the tablets was enough to make me toss and turn for hours.
And Madonna sang the entire time.  The. Entire. Time.  I tried reading.  I even tried singing How Much is That Doggy in the Window in my head.  I tried planning art projects.  All I could do was wait for the effects of the caffeine to subside enough to enable sleep.

Why would I listen to Madonna at bedtime?  I had wanted to compare her song to the new Coldplay single, Every Teardrop is a Waterfall.  I've heard it on the radio a bit lately, and it took me a few days to figure out what it reminded me of.  Yesterday when Coldplay came on when I was driving to work, I tried singing Madonna's song on top of it.  It worked pretty well, except I didn't know most of Like a Prayer's lyrics.  At that time.  Now I think I do.  It's a five-minute song, did you know that?  And after last night, I am starting to consider having this be my karaoke debut choice, if I ever gather the courage to perform karaoke.

stream of consciousness

In an effort to actually write something on this again, I am going to insert a stream-of-consciousness blog entry. 
Here goes:


I'm eating an orange that was purchased from Aldi on May 20.  Today is June 17.  The orange tastes only slightly garbage-y.  All in all, a satisfactory pretend lunch.  Does rotten fruit have the same vitamins in the same amounts as fresh fruit?
I don't think I ever call grown men "big guy."  Maybe I've called babies that, because they don't know what I'm saying and therefore don't have to either be offended or wonder if they should be.
I should re-paint my toenails.  Painting nails is more fun to say than polishing nails.
I'm not good at stream-of-consciousness exercises all the time because I still fix my grammar and spelling mistakes, and sometimes think, "is this interesting?"
It is ridiculous that the annoying lady at work insists she can't say the surname "Rujel."  Just because it is from a language/ethnicity other than one's own, it doesn't require knowledge of different letters.  I feel bad for the guy who sits across from me when the ladies around him make him say his own last name on conference calls.  Make some effort, old ladies.  He doesn't call you "those old ladies," does he?  No, he uses your names.  Because that is respectful and appropriate.
I am thankful that certain people I know are not teachers, or counselors, or in any kind of guidance position to young or particularly vulnerable people.  Annoying Work Lady, I'm referring to you.  And no, I don't use your name #1 to protect your identity from my scathing internet barbs and #2 because you don't know mine either and I bet you never try if you don't even try 'Rujel.'

And I think I'm spent on this exercise.  Pat on the back for effort.