Finding Mindfulness in the Simplest of Places

​In recent months, I've come to the realization that I am very influenced by negativity. I'd noticed that I had easily become swallowed by my own negativity, and that it was affecting my relationship with Simon, my outlook on my job, relationships with my friends and coworkers, and my own well-being in general. And I hated it. I hated me. I hated who I had become and what I was contributing to myself and to the people around me.

I've always been cynical and snarky, a glass-half-empty kind of person, if you will. Some people find it endearing that I don't beat around the bush and will say what everyone else is thinking...what everyone else is too polite to say out loud. Sometimes it can be funny to be cynical, but after a while, it permeates everything in my life, and I start being cynical about even the smallest of things. I swear far too much. You know you have a potty mouth when you are known in certain circles or are introduced to new people as "the one who swears a lot." Getting together and having a bitchfest with my friends now makes me feel sad and sometimes hopeless...is this what we have become? Is this what brings us joy in our lives? Our complaints are, for the most part, so insignificant, and nothing that a couple hours in a hot tub or a good hike in the woods can't cure. Granted, hiking around in the woods won't pay the bills (unless you happen to one of those lucky bastards I follow on Instagram who are sponsored by outdoor gear companies), but it can make us forget about them for a while. I've had to have conversations with friends about how we need to decrease our negative conversations and focus mostly on positive ones. Not that there's no room for venting frustrations...we all need that from time to time, but I've been trying to reevaluate what is a valid frustration that warrants verbal recognition, and what is complaining for complaining's sake.

My mom always used to say, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." I've found that it's much harder to take back a negative comment than a positive one. Just because something might be perceived to be true, doesn't mean it always needs to be said, especially if it is negative or hurtful. I came across some advice that I've mentioned in a previous blog about having meaningful conversation. Before speaking, ask yourself 3 things: Is it true? Is it necessary or relevant? Is it kind? Not that all conversation needs to be meaningful...many of the conversations I have are downright silly and irrelevant, but just thinking about the message I'm trying to convey can bring more meaning to what I'm saying.

I have a few friends who are glass-half-full types of people, and when I was wallowing in my negativity, I had a hard time being around them. I thought they viewed the world through rose colored glasses, and that there couldn't possibly be a way to find so much delight and fascination in life when all I wanted to do was verbally destroy it with my cynicism. If only I could get them to agree with me on how awful something appeared to be...just one thing...anything. How sad for them to try to have a meaningful conversation with me. How sad for me to be such a downer. So, if you are one of my glass-half-full friends and our interactions as of late have been scarce, please accept my apologies for my attitude...let's hang out and talk about all the good things in our lives that we've missed out on during our time apart.

I used to think that glass-half-full types suffered from a general lack of adversity, and that their excess positivity stemmed from an existence far less complicated than my own. I used to think that they were arguing with me for the sake of arguing, that there's no way anyone could find positivity in virtually every situation...turns out it was me who was doing most of the arguing, and that there is a way to put a positive spin on almost any situation. And then I started looking at the things I thought were complicating my life, and they amounted to such trivial things that I was embarrassed to be complaining out loud about them at all. Most adversities in my life could be dealt with quietly, by simply acknowledging that they were there, and then by rationally coming up with a plan of action. Is management of this adversity something that is within my control? And if so, what can I feasibly, realistically, and calmly do about it? If the adversity is not within my control, what steps can I take to accept that and move on while still obtaining a satisfactory resolution?

In embracing positivity, I've noticed that I'm much more sensitive to negativity. I interact with negative attitudes, and it puts me on edge. If I can't positively contribute, or if I recognize that positive contribution is futile, then I try not to engage at all. It's so weird to sit back and listen or disengage completely instead of joining in. Simon has noticed and verbalized appreciation for my new outlook. I wonder if anyone else has noticed? It's fair to say that I could pretty much be counted on to join in on and strongly contribute to conversations dominated by snark...that's just who I was and who I'm now working hard not to be. And believe it or not...I'm feeling better about myself, my relationships, and my job. There will always be frustrations, but I'm finding that adopting a positive attitude helps me to better deal with those frustrations. And not only to help me deal, but to feel better about the resolutions I come to, even if those resolutions aren't always overwhelmingly favorable. Those glass-half-full people are on to something!

Finding the humor in everyday life, and being an outright cynical asshole are two very different things. I want to be more of the former and try to eliminate the latter. I want to work on being funny and light-hearted without being such a douche. Maybe try watching the river go by, rather than jumping into it unnecessarily. I want to be a better listener, and to encourage others to do the same. I want to talk about light-hearted, simple things...I want to hear about people's kids and their pets, their trips and what makes them happy. I want to hear about their last good meal, their favorite kind of chocolate, their recent proud accomplishment. I don't want to talk so much about work and how awful it can sometimes be. I have to remind myself that of all the hospitals I've worked in, from world-class medical centers to hospitals in towns few people have heard of, this is the one I chose to stay at, and that there were good reasons for that decision. I know that for most of us, we spend a significant amount of time at our jobs, not out of desire, but out of necessity. And if we're not happy at work, then that unhappiness starts to spread to other aspects of our lives. This is a truth that I've been aware of for a long time. We all work, and for a lot of us, our job is not our passion...that's just how it is. A lot of us take our passion with us to our jobs, but if given the opportunity to financially make what I do as a nurse by hiking around in the woods looking at birds or by paddle boarding with manatees, I'd never set foot in a hospital again. I think I'm good at nursing...overall I like it quite a bit, and given my particular skill set, I think it was a good career choice for me. But there are barriers in place that prevent it from being my passion. Some I can control, some I can't. So, my hope is to do less of what I'm simply good at, and more of what I'm passionate about, and to somehow find a way to balance those two things in a meaningful, productive way.

Simon recently brought awareness to some struggles he was having with our relationship, and we talked about it. Like 2 adults. Without bitterness or anger or judgement or blame. I know, I know, to most people we seem like we've got all our ducks in a row, blissfully moving from place to place, photographically documenting it all for our friends and family to see. What could we possibly find to fight about? Who put the toilet paper roll on incorrectly? For the record, I find underhand to be the most correct, but I'm open to rational discussion on the topic. All jokes aside, Simon and I face adversity in our relationship just like anyone else. I don't think it would be fair to say that we never fight, but we rarely fight. We've found a comfort level in our relationship that allows us to openly communicate our frustrations before they reach the point of yelling, blaming, and hurt feelings. Mind games and manipulation have no place in our relationship, and those things certainly wouldn't help us manage what adversities might come our way. Adversity doesn't have to end in negativity and pointed fingers and hopelessness and anger. I think Paul said it best in Corinthians 13: 4-7..."Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." I've always loved that verse, and feel it can be universally applied not just to those we love, but to those we want to have in our lives.

Adversity will always be there, it's up to us to decide how we're going to respond to it. I've been working very hard on picking my battles, in deciding what is worth my emotional engagement, and what isn't. Instead of verbally escalating a situation, I quietly ruminate on it and try to come up with an action plan. I try to decide what is worth pursuing and what is better to just let go. It's a work in progress, and takes daily focus. Some days are better than others, but I've reached the point where I'm tired of carrying around my cynicism, sarcasm, and negativity like a badge of honor. People respond better to my positivity than to my negativity, and I'm trying to purposefully be aware of that. Life's far too short to go through it with a bad attitude.

This year for Christmas, Simon bought me a book called The 5 Minute Journal. It's not a journal in the traditional sense of writing a narrative, but more of a lead-by-suggestion style of writing. Every morning I write down three things that I'm grateful for, three things that would make my day great, and a personal daily affirmation. In the evening, just before bed, I'm supposed to write down three things that were great about my day, and two things that I could have done to make my day even better. Being the skeptical cynic that I am, I had my doubts about how often I would use it, and if I would even get anything out of it. Flipping through it, I wondered if I could even find three things a day to be grateful for. But, given that Simon put a fair amount of thought into this gift, all the while knowing my skeptical nature, I decided to give it a try, if only to show him that I appreciated his gift. Little did I know that that little journal would be the spearhead of my new positivity movement. I never would have thought that naming three things I'm grateful for could have changed my outlook on life so much. I started out struggling with the three grateful things. At first I was trying to be lofty and thoughtful, and when that got frustrating, I got trivial. I was grateful for the heated mattress pad. I was grateful for winter boots. I was grateful for sleeping in. And little by little, I realized that being grateful doesn't have to be about the big things in life...the little things are just as important, and can make you feel just as good as the big things, but with greater frequency. Now I struggle with naming only three things I'm grateful for. And this all happened within the span of about a week or two...I've only been using the journal since the first of the year, but it's kind of changed my life. Who knew? Simon, apparently. Another case of him knowing me better than I know myself...or perhaps he just knows what's better for me than I do. Maybe it's a little of both.

I truly am grateful for so many things in my life, and until recently, it seemed I was taking all of those things for granted. I was focusing too much on what I didn't have, while ignoring all the good things I had sitting right in front of me. They include but are not limited to:

-I have a good job working with great people.

-I have a cozy apartment filled with my favorite things...this has become more apparent since the continual downsizing.

-I have money to buy the things I need, and enough left over to splurge on the things I want.

-I have a boyfriend I can talk to...not just about the easy things, but the hard things too.

-I have a little dog who loves me to pieces, even though he doesn't snuggle as much as I would like.

-I have friends and family all over the country who I miss terribly, and who I don't see nearly enough, but I'm so grateful for the bits and pieces of time we have together.

-I am safe. I am warm. I am healthy. I have everything I need.

-I have a plan that involves the open road, America's and maybe even Canada's national parks, and living big in a little space.

I will be making changes in the next few months. Some big, some little. Some because I have to, most because I want to. I think in life you should always strive to be as happy as possible...if you don't like your job, your boyfriend, where you live...change it. I know it sounds overly simple, and everyone's life has its own specific complications, but if you want something bad enough, you'll find a way to get it. It might not happen overnight, but I truly think that anything worth doing is worth doing well and with intention. Don't be rash, and take your time, but make strides to find your happiness. Have a goal in mind, and work towards it.

Sometimes when I hear myself say these things out loud, it makes me sound like a dreamer, like there's no way to remain consistently positive and still take life seriously. Maybe that's the point of all this introspection. Maybe life shouldn't be taken so seriously.

The Period Blog: Part 3, The Final Chapter

Ah, here we are again, talking about periods.  Well, I'm talking about it...you're reading about it.  Or not...I talked to a few friends (mostly men) who said that they skipped my period blogs entirely, which didn't surprise me, truth be told.  Although I was surprised by my friend Jim, who told me that he had read both of my previous period blogs.  When I asked him why he didn't skip them, he simply responded, "Because I read all your blogs."  That made me smile.  Most men don't like to think about the idea of women having periods, despite the fact that most men live with women who have periods, and truth be told, the more they know about their woman's period, maybe the better they would be to support their lady counter-parts through it.  But perhaps not...when I'm in the throes of full-on menstrual badness, sometimes the the only things I want are to be left alone with a good book, bag of Doritos, and a pile of chocolate. 

So, when I last left off with my period, I was in full-on experimentation with the menstrual cup.  I had forfeited the first one in the hopes that the second one would be more successful.  Well, it wasn't.  Granted, the second cup was marginally better than the first, but given that the first one was pretty much a fail, marginally better wasn't really better at all.  I don't really know what went wrong, as I read review after review after review from women claiming nothing but success and love for their menstrual cups.  Of course, there were those reviews that were nothing but horror stories, and while my experience didn't fall under the category of horror story, it wasn't a positive experience either.  I spent three months worth of periods thinking that I was either anatomically weird, or mechanically inept at getting the cup to function properly.  I never did figure out what the problem was.  I read all the tips and tricks posted on various cup manufacturer's websites, I watched videos and read reviews until I figured that I couldn't possibly learn anything more about cup insertion and maintenance, and still I just couldn't get the thing to work better than your average tampon.  Given that there was a level of trust with a tampon that just wasn't there with the cups, the cups were removed from the rotation.  I don't know what to do with them...it's not like it's something that I can just give to someone else to try, although I did sterilize them...it would be perfectly safe to pass on to someone else, and given that I spent about $50 between the two of them, it would seem a waste of money to just throw them away.  But people are squeamish about that sort of thing.  So I have $50 in medical grade silicone menstrual products just hanging out in a little tote under the sink in the bathroom.

Specific issues with the cups, for those who want to know.  Getting the thing in was a struggle.  Every. Single. Time.  It never got easier.  Picture me doing yoga above the toilet with my pants around my ankles, somewhere between a squat and what would appear to be the start-off position of a sommersalt.  Well, you don't have to picture me, exactly, but someone...anyone, really.  A tube of lube clutched in one hand (because the reviews said it would be easier to get it in...it was easier, but that didn't solve the problem), and the notorious cup clutched in the other.  The cup ideally would have already been folded in either the "7," the "C," or the "W."  I tried all three.  The "C" seemed to work the best, but I still failed at it more often than I succeeded.  Apparently you're supposed to feel the thing pop open inside you...I guess that's how you know it's in there properly.  I never once felt the pop...with either cup.  In the event that I did get the thing in what seemed to be properly, it never did form that perfect seal that all the women reviewers raved about.  I was lucky if I got 2 hours out of the thing before I was having to take it out and empty it...not because I was filling it up, but because the thing would always spring a leak.  Coughing, sneezing, laughing, and changing positions suddenly came with a very real measure of fear.  During the three months that I was trialing the cups, I made sure to do as little as possible to give myself the best chance of success with the cups, and still was met with failure.  The one time I contemplated going to the gym with it, I had visions of the janitorial staff coming in with their hazmat gear to clean up what would very likely have been a mess during the squat track of my weight-lifting class.  No thanks.  If I couldn't get the cup to work when I was lying around on the couch, there was no way I was going anywhere in public with it.  Bummer for me.     

I don't want to deter anyone from trying out a cup though...out of everyone I know who has tried them, I'm the only one who never got it to work.  I think if the concept of it is something that you're interested in, then it's definitely worth a shot.  And if you're not squeamish, I have 2 different ones I'm that I'm willing to give away!!  I know, weird, but there it is anyway.  I will say, the best thing that came out of this whole alternative period lifestyle experiment was the discovery of the reusable fabric panty liners.  They really are awesome, and they work way better and are far more comfortable than the disposeable ones that you buy in the store...and, this might be TMI, but they don't have that weird smell...you know the one...kinda smells like a baby diaper.  I already despair at my nether regions during my period...having them reminiscent of a baby diaper is just insult to injury.  I tried a few different reusable liners, and the brand that I like the best is called The Essence of Eve (not a fan of the name, but then again, I'm not a fan of much of anything period related, so there you go).  You can find them in a shop on Etsy...they're made by a few gals in Utah, and demand has been so high for them that they sell out usually within hours of posting new stock.  With good reason.  They're great.  A pack of 7 will run you about $37...granted, it would take a while to recoup that cost in traditional panty liners, but the comfort more than makes up for that.  In my opinion, of course.

So, now that I've failed at the cup and am almost back where I started on my period journey, what's next?  Well, since I've labeled this the final chapter of the period blog, I've decided to do something more permanent about my monthly visitor.  I'm not interested in an IUD or going back on birth control pills...my body doesn't respond well to hormones, and the thought of having something permanently up in there gives me limp wrists.  I know a lot of women have success with and love their IUD's, but I just can't stomach the thought of them.  So, I'm going to start researching uterine ablation, which I mentioned briefly in my previous period blog.  It's a surgical procedure, and given that I work in healthcare and get to see all kinds of surgeries run amok, I'm moderately terrified by the idea.  Funny...the thought of a little piece of metal hanging out in my uterus gives me the heebie jeebies, but burning the crap out of my uterine lining?  That seems like a good idea...hahaha!  But...I'm currently halfway through this month's period, and I'm just over it.  I'm done.  I'm not interested in having children, my uterus is doing absolutely nothing but making me miserable for a quarter of the year, and my period literally serves no purpose whatsoever (other than to give me that brief moment of delight that I'm not pregnant).  So I'm going to do something about it.  Given that I was diagnosed with a type of endometriosis a couple years back (endometriosis is the phenomenon where uterine tissue starts growing in places it has no business growing...in my case, the tissue is growing inside the muscle that makes up the body of the uterus...harmless, for the most part, but it makes for painful and sometimes irregular periods), I doubt the ablation procedure will rid me of all period symptoms...I'm sure I'll still get the bloat, some cramps, the moodiness, and most certainly the wacky food cravings...ablation doesn't affect the hormone-producing ovaries, after all...but to have the ability to rid myself of the bleeding?  I'll take it. 

I should have done it a long time ago, but I just wasn't that inconvenienced enough by my periods to bother with it.  And it's not that I'm any more inconvenienced now than I was 2 years or even 2 months ago, it's just that I'm tired of being inconvenienced by it at all.  The thought of toughing out month after month of periods until menopause, knowing that the older I get the more awful they become (they're already worse now than they were 5 years ago), is just maddening.  And truth to be told, given that my periods just can't be bothered to be regular, traveling has been a bit of an obstacle because of it.  And I travel a lot...and there's a very real possibility in the next year or so that Simon and I will spend a significant amount of our time on the road traveling.  And having a period on a road trip or on vacation when available bathrooms might be scarce or nonexistent?  That's just terrible.  I'm pretty non-discriminatory when it comes to taking a pee or a poop...the side of the road will do in a pinch for those things.  But the period is not so gracious...it can't be held back by the simple act of squirming in the seat or practicing one's kegels.  Once it's there, it's there, and if not dealt with in a timely manner can result in the appearance of a small-scale crime scene.  The thought of doing a back-packing trip in the Grand Canyon while on my period sounds like one of the worst ideas ever...especially since bears can apparently smell the menstruation, and we all know how I feel about bears.  So we'll see.  I know there are a few doctors here in town who do ablation procedures, and I know a few women who have had it done who would be more than willing to give me a referral.  I just need to pick a time to do it...and find a way to pay for it, as I'm sure insurance doesn't cover that sort of thing.  Too bad I can't take the insurance benefit that I would have gotten for having children and apply it to not having children.  Can I also petition for non-maternity leave as well?  Too far? 

It's kind of funny (not funny-haha...funny-weird) to think about voluntarily and permanently making myself unable to become pregnant, when I know of several families who would give anything to be able to conceive.  Although, given that I'm not super vigilant in prevention and I've never had a legit pregnancy scare, my own fertility is questionable.  In making the decision to pursue a permanent form of birth control, I'm fighting all those long-held ideals that for years told me that I wouldn't become an adult, my life wouldn't have a bigger purpose, until I had children.  As if having children was a right of passage that should be mandatory and unquestioned, rather than optional and open for debate.  I always thought that I would someday want children, and at 36, that day still just hasn't come.  I've developed a life that I love, and children just don't fit into it.  I know that people change and there are those women out there having their first child well into their 40's and 50's, but I don't think that'll be me either.  I think some women are destined to have children, and some women are not.  I don't have the temperament or the desire to become a mother, so I'm choosing not to become one.  Sounds simple, but this was a stressful decision that was years in the making, and it didn't come easy.  But here I am.  And I'm not blowing off children simply because I hate having a period, I'm blowing off the period because I'm not having children.

So there it is.  The final chapter of the period blog.  Hopefully there won't be a follow-up blog detailing how I had my intestines scalded during the ablation procedure (apparently that's a rare adverse event...yikes!).  In any event, for those of you still struggling with a period or living with someone who does, you have my sympathies.  Carry on.               

 

A Resolution of Sorts...

Every year I say that I'm not going to do a New Year's resolution, and almost every year I end up doing one anyway.  I don't even remember what my resolution from last year was...I suppose I could look back through my blog posts and figure it out, because I'm sure I wrote about it, but I can't be bothered to care right this moment.  The reasoning is two-fold...either the resolution became a way of life and I don't care to reflect on what I was doing beforehand, or the resolution fizzled out and I don't care to be made aware of my failure to make a meaningful change.  My life is pretty good as-is, so I'll just go with that.

My resolution for 2016 might come as a surprise to most people in my life.  I've actually only talked about it with a few people, mostly because it's difficult to empathize with, and partly because it's something that seems at odds with how I've been living my life since, well, forever.  Another reason not to mention it all that much is my previous disdain for the whole idea.

I've decided that I'm going to stop eating mammals.  I know, I know, to some people I'm known as the bacon-monster...that there is no such thing as too much bacon, so how could I possibly cut myself off from eating something that previously gave me so much culinary delight?  It's rather simple, come to find out.  I've actually been practicing the no-mammals thing for most of December, and despite my fears that it would be life-changing (in a bad way), as of this writing today, it really hasn't been much of a struggle at all.

For one, I think the ease of cutting out mammals comes from the fact that this is a choice that I made myself.  No one told me that I could no longer eat pork or beef...it was my decision to do so.  Those are always the easiest decisions to make.  For two, the consumption of mammals has been relatively easy to avoid.  I've been trying new vegetarian dishes, and while they're not always as satisfying as a burger, some of them are actually quite good.  I've also been eating more fish and seafood, and I've really been enjoying that.  I still eat chicken, but I've been trying to cut down on that as well.  Baby steps, you see. 

I'm definitely a meat-eater at heart, but I started with mammals because I don't eat much beef or pork to begin with, so it was easier to cut them out.  When I do cook at home (which is a rarity these days), I tend to make breakfast food, something with chicken in it, or something that has no meat in it at all simply because I'm lazy and don't want to take the time to prepare it.  Cutting out beef and pork at home was probably the easiest part of this.  I can't even remember the last time I bought beef...nor pork, for that matter.  I do have a couple jars of bacon drippings still hanging out in the freezer...if any of you from Flagstaff would like them, let me know, otherwise I'm probably just going to throw them away.

Going out to eat has been more of a challenge, but again, not as difficult as I had thought it would be.  Given the diversity of most menus at restaurants, I've been able to order something either vegetarian or with sea food that's been rather enjoyable.  I can't remember where I was, but sometime in early December I had a hamburger somewhere, and it just didn't sit well afterwards.  I don't know if it was psychological or if maybe the meat wasn't super fresh or very good quality or what, but it just kind of reaffirmed my idea to cut it out completely.

I think what has been the weirdest and most surprising thing of all, is that I don't miss eating beef and pork.  When I started out with this idea, I really thought it would be more of a struggle, but it hasn't been.  I guess it's just one of those things that once you get over the idea of it being gone, you just get over it and move on.  I went through this a few years ago with Doritos.  Once I made up my mind to quit buying them, I just did and nothing bad happened.  I just ate other things.  I still occasionally will binge on Doritos (I really think there's crack in those things), and I pretty much always pay for it in one way or another, but I enjoy them differently now.  They're an indulgence and I appreciate them more when I do allow myself to have some...or the whole bag...you know, might as well make it worth it, right? 

Now to the "why," because people always care about that part, as if maybe my justification for not eating something that they enjoy will help clarify why I'm not eating mammals.  It's funny how much people have been paying attention to my diet since I stopped eating mammals in December.  Well, I should clarify...the ones who knew I wasn't eating mammals versus the ones who didn't.  The ones who didn't know didn't notice, but the ones who did know suddenly became very interested in everything I ate.  Some almost appeared offended that I was no longer eating meat, as if I was insulting them by cutting something out of my own personal diet, but that they still enjoyed.  I was quite taken aback by it at first, but then I remembered how weirded out I was over the years when some of my friends became vegetarians...I felt that I had to defend myself for eating meat.  I asked the same questions then that my friends are asking me now: "But what about bacon?"  It always comes back to the bacon...hahaha!  "You're never going to eat meat again?"  I don't know...maybe, maybe not.  I can't answer that question at the moment, not knowing how this dietary change will affect me.  "What are you, some kind of hippie?"  Those damn, dirty hippies, turning all us regular folks against bacon.  "God put animals on this earth for us to eat."  I love that one...if he truly did put animals on this earth for us to eat, did he intend for us to treat them the way they're treated in huge factory farms (I'll touch on that later)?  I think not.

I feel as though the meat eaters in my life are going to hold me to stricter rules than I hold myself, that the first time I eat pork or beef (whether on purpose or by accident), they're going to be right there pointing fingers and exposing my lack of will.  I honestly think this change would go over better if meat simply made me sick, so then I would have a physical rationalization for cutting it out, rather than a psychological or philosophical reason for doing so.   

I guess the main reasons I'm no longer eating mammals are multi-factorial.  One of the things that put this idea in my head was a trip to Gilbert, AZ several years ago.  My brother lived down there, and in order to get to his house, I had to drive past several large dairy operations.  The smell was unlike anything I've ever smelled in my life...the putrid stench of urine and feces was unbearable.  And it gave me pause...do I really want to consume anything that comes out of a place that smells like that?  Granted, that was a dairy farm, not a beef farm, but beef feedlots are quite similar.  Drive on I-80 through Nebraska, or I-40 through north Texas, or take a trip outside Greeley, Colorado (there's a reason it's called "Cow-Sh*t City) and you'll smell the feedlots before you even lay eyes on them, depending on which way the wind is blowing.  Nothing but cattle as far as the eye can see, not a single blade of grass for them to stand on, to lie down on, to eat.  Most of the pens don't even have shelters for the animals in the event of inclement weather.  It's just gross, and here in America, that's where the majority of our meat comes from.  I don't like the idea of it from an animal welfare standpoint, but what continues to be the "ick" factor for me is the smell.  I just can't get past it.  I don't think any living creature should be made to live in those conditions, and certainly not for my benefit.

Another reason I no longer want to consume mammals is because, truth be told, I enjoy them.  I love pigs and cows.  I think they're funny, silly little creatures with personalities, and with a capacity to learn, to feel enjoyment, pain, and fear.  Pigs are actually smarter than some breeds of dogs (ahem, pugs), and despite their reputation for being dirty, they are actually quite clean creatures if given the opportunity and the space to do so.  I'll never forget a friend's story about a pig they were raising, and how he would rifle though the table scraps looking for the strawberry tops, and how he would close his eyes and smack his lips, getting so much enjoyment out of the little bits of fruit that still clung to the greens.  He eventually met the fate of most pigs and became food for the people who were raising him, but what a life he had right up until then.  And that's the thing...I guess I feel that if you're going to eat an animal that has the capacity to enjoy life, then at least let it enjoy that life while it has the time to do so.  Let it eat strawberries, let it run around in the grass, give it shelter, keep it safe, keep it healthy...you know, all those things that us people feel we deserve for ourselves.

Of course, I'm fully aware that fish and chickens are also capable of feeling pain.  And maybe at a more primitive level, are capable of enjoyment and fear.  In a perfect world, I would have all kinds of time and research and options to cut animal consumption out of my life completely (Whoa...did I just make a vague reference to becoming vegan?  Certainly not...), but Rome was not built in a day, and changing years of eating habits won't happen overnight.  I know that factory chicken farms are pretty gross, and the thought of all those birds being stuffed into a big building with little fresh air, no access to the outdoors, and no access to bugs, grass and other things that they might find given the chance to roam on their own.  I see the term "vegetarian fed" on cartons of eggs in the store and find it confusing...chickens love to eat bugs and worms and little lizards and all kinds of little living creatures.  Eating nothing but a vegetarian diet isn't what they would naturally be eating.  Although, maybe saying "vegetarian fed" just means that there's no animal by-products in their feed, which is a good thing, I guess.  I am also perfectly aware that the dairy industry is just as bad, if not worse, than the beef industry when it comes to animal welfare.  In fact, I'm almost certain that the dairy industry is worse...but I love cheese.  I honestly think I could give up almost all other forms of animal products if I could just keep my cheese.  I tell myself that dairy cows don't have to die for me to have cheese, but I've seen large scale dairy operations...the cows are treated terribly, and it's true that there are fates worse than death.  I just can't cut out everything all at once and still expect to have any sort of success with it.  So these are the current lines that have been drawn: No pork, no beef.  Will work on the rest at a later date.

I have been trying to be better about obtaining what meat I do eat from responsible sources.  There are a few small farms here in the area that specialize in chickens, eggs, dairy, goat dairy, etc.  There are even some that have been certified humane for their beef and pork production.  If I can't raise it myself, then the least I can do is try to make sure that someone else is raising it right.  I really miss our egg co-op...that was the best.  Those were the happiest chickens I had ever seen, and certainly the best eggs I have ever eaten.  They spent all day running around the yard, digging through the compost, eating bugs, and laying eggs with reckless abandon.  They were friendly and funny and most of them didn't bat an eye about being picked up or petted.  They used to follow us around hoping that we would open the feed bin and give them a little snack.  There is a milking-goat farm in a nearby town that I want to go see.  Mostly because I think goats are hilarious, but partly because the farm is a small operation and produces some really good goat cheese.  I like to support the little guys when I can.           

From an environmental standpoint, the raising of large mammals for food just isn't efficient.  Here in America we really don't care all that much about it because currently, we're not wanting for anything.  We have it really good here, and all our needs are met.  But at what cost?  Water, for one.  Raising large animals for food consumes mass quantities of water, and at a time when the western half of the country is crying out for water (yet they're still watering their yards...go figure...that needs to stop, and the golf courses need to stop right along with it...ridiculous to be in a drought and still watering golf courses...but I digress...), we're using vast quantities of water on huge amounts of cattle for an excessive amount of meat.  Another detrimental side-effect of the meat industry is pollution...both water, air, and land pollution.  I won't get too in-depth on this topic, mostly because I still have a lot of research to do, and I've already made the decision to refrain from mammals, so this ideology kind of takes care of itself, I guess.  There is a documentary called Cowspiracy that delves into the environmental impact of raising animals for food.  I haven't watched it yet, mostly because I know I'm going to be saddened and disgusted, but partially because most of the reviewers who have watched it make comments about how they became vegan immediately after watching it.  I'm guessing it's a pretty powerful flick, and I'm a coward to keep putting it off, but I'm just not ready.  I don't know if I'll ever be.  What is seen cannot be unseen.         

I have a friend (and a very inspirational vegetarian-esque eater) who no longer labels herself as a vegetarian due to the fact that she's started to add chicken back into her diet due to her body's dietary needs.  She's said she quit using the label of vegetarian because it wasn't accurate if she was eating chicken, and because she didn't care for all the criticism she was getting for providing her body with nutrition from sources that she had previously ruled out.  And to be fair, this girl was never the type of vegetarian who scorned people for eating meat.  It was her choice, and her choice alone...everyone else was free to eat as they pleased.  She was well-informed and ready with a wealth of information as to why she wasn't eating meat should anyone ask.  And I guess that's kind of why I hesitate to label myself as this-thing or that-thing...people are always quick to judge when you label yourself as one thing and then fall outside the established parameters of it.  When really, I'm the only one who should really care about what I'm eating or not eating.  And honestly, the only reason I'm really sharing any of this is because that's what you do with your friends...you share things.  I honestly didn't want to say anything to anyone about it at all, knowing that it would be difficult to understand and that I would be met with resistance.  But honestly, I think most of my friends will be supportive...not that I expect them to cater to my dietary choices, but if we're having dinner together and they choose to make chicken instead of pork, well, that would be awesome.  Personal dietary choices are just that...personal.  

So, now that that's all out in the open, it's time for the disclaimer.  I don't expect anyone to cater to my dietary restrictions.  Just because I'm not eating some forms of meat, doesn't mean that I expect everyone else to refrain as well.  This is my choice, and my choice alone (well, Simon is doing it too, which is helpful because he's more strong-willed than I am...he's actually been cutting out meat for longer than I have).  I said from the beginning that I don't want my dietary choices to affect my relationships with my friends and family.  Food is a huge part of being social, and I don't want people to feel like they can't invite me over for dinner because I might judge them for eating pork or beef.  I won't judge what others are eating, and while I might not partake in eating beef or pork the vast majority of the time, there is a chance that I just might use dinner with friends as a chance to indulge...much like my Dorito binges.  One of my last meals of 2015 was a Polish-style pork cutlet prepared by my friend's wife, who happens to be from Poland.  It's one of her specialties, and honestly, when I am going to get the opportunity to have Polish food prepared by a Polish person?  It was absolutely fantastic, by the way...a perfect indulgence.  And I can't go back to Minnesota and not eat Tater Tot Hotdish (although I have made it with ground chicken...tastes almost exactly the same).  My friendships are so important to me, and I'm not going to let dietary choices get in the way of that.  As long as there is a mutual respect there (my choice to not eat it versus their choice to eat it), I don't think there will be a problem.   

We'll see...this is all so new that I have no idea how it's going to go, but I'm not the first meat-eater in the history of meat-eaters to become mostly vegetarian.  I don't expect enthusiastic support in my dietary choices, but at a minimum I do ask for for indifference, and definitely would appreciate that any ridicule be kept to a minimum.  I realize this is difficult, but it truly should only be difficult for me.  Honestly, if I truly wanted to be difficult, I would just give up beer...but that's never going to happen.  I just learned today that beer (the barley in beer, to be exact) has a decent amount of nutritional value.  And here I've been wasting all this money on multivitamins.  Go figure.     

About That Gun Thing...

A few weeks back I was out to lunch with a friend, when I happened to look out the window and see a man walking by with a large rifle slung over his shoulder.  It gave me pause...partly because it's not often that you see people walking around town with hunting rifles in full view, and partly because the man was right across the street from the local Planned Parenthood.  I couldn't help but hold my breath for a few seconds and watch his every move, while simultaneously thinking about ducking for cover under the table.  The man got into his pickup and drove away...no harm, no foul, nothing to see here folks.  But it got me thinking about the gun culture that we have here in the United States.

I didn't grow up with guns.  My dad had guns, and I knew they were kept somewhere in the house, but I had no interest in them and therefore never really went looking for them.  When I was 13, my dad had my brother and I take a firearm safety class.  After a few sessions of classroom education, we got to go to the local gun range for a field test to see what we had learned, what we hadn't, and what we needed to work on.  That class was the second time in my life that I had ever held or shot a gun.  The first time was on a fishing trip in northern Minnesota at my dad's friend's cabin...I got to shoot at a pie plate hanging in a tree...it's doubtful that I hit it...or anything for that matter.  So the field test...it was fun to get out and shoot the gun, to see my accuracy with the targets.  I was actually excited at the idea of maybe going hunting, or of going to the shooting range.  Dad was completely against the idea of me going anywhere with a gun.  I remember being really confused at the time as to why he had wanted to me to take the firearm safety class in the first place, if his intention all along was to not let me go out and shoot.  I don't think I've ever asked him about that...I quickly got over it and I guess at over 20+ years later, it doesn't matter all that much, really.

I didn't shoot another gun until I was 32 years old, and oddly enough, it was an assault rifle.  It was a lot of fun...and terrifying, and made me a bit nauseated.  I immediately recognized the power in that weapon, and to be completely honest, it was very overwhelming.  Weird to think that I went almost 20 years without shooting a gun, given how prevalent they are these days and how many people I know who own them.  I enjoy shooting guns, but they're still just not terribly interesting to me.  And truth be told, they're a little frightening.  Perhaps if I interacted with guns on a regular basis I'd be more comfortable with them, but even then...I just don't know.  I don't think having a gun would improve my quality of life, and if anything, it would make me more paranoid about the world around me.  Of course, there are certain situations where I think I would like to have one...camping out in the middle of the woods, far from civilization and people to help, but I have it in my head that I'd want it to defend myself from animals (bears...I'm completely and irrationally terrified of bears), not from other people.

In having random conversations with friends who are gun owners, the opinions are rather mixed in whether or not they think more regulation would stop the spread of gun violence.  Some say guns should be a free-market item and that it's no one's business who owns them and who doesn't.  Like buying a pair of shoes...no one's business but mine.  Some of my friends absolutely think there needs to be more screening, more education, and more restrictions on who can buy guns, how many they can have, and what types of guns and ammunition are available to the general public.  They equate owning a gun almost the same way you treat owning a car...that a person should have to take classes, get a license, and show proof of insurance/ownership.  The huge problem with that, however, is that a portion of gun violence is committed at the hands of people using unregistered or illegally obtained weapons.  All the regulation in the country isn't going to stop that.  It's what the pro-gun sect has been saying all along...we don't have a gun problem, we have a people problem.

So...if changing the laws isn't going to stop the spread of gun violence, what will?  In thinking about it, what we need is a culture-shift.  Why is it that people feel safer with a gun?  Of all the people I know who own guns, not one of them has actually had to defend themselves or their property with a gun (at least not that I'm aware of).  And I'm not talking about having a gun near the door for just-in-case...I'm talking about actually pulling a gun on a person with the very real intention of shooting them...sighted down the scope, safety off, finger on the trigger sort of intention.  In talking with these people about their guns and personal safety, you'd think they were under constant threat of being robbed, mugged, or murdered...and while I don't personally see it, the threats seem very real for them.  It seems as though most of them are under the impression that it's better to have a gun and not need it, than to need it and not have it.  Makes sense, but one should probably establish the reality of need versus the perception of need.  And in going along with that, what is adequate protection, and what is just plain excess?  Is there such a thing as excess when you're talking about defending yourself?  Are multiple guns better than one?  Most people only have two hands, and shooting two handed is horribly inaccurate unless the person you're shooting is standing directly in front of you at close range...and if they're standing directly in front of you at close range, you probably only need one gun anyway.   

It would seem that assault rifles are the pit bulls of the gun world...they're a gun just like any other gun, but have the potential to be more deadly when not in the hands of educated, responsible individuals.  If there's any gun ideology that I struggle with, it's the assault rifle.  Assault rifles are designed to take out multiple people in a short period of time over a safe distance.  Perfect application of the assault rifle is soldiers with boots on the ground in hostile territory during wartime.  I personally just don't understand why a civilian needs an assault rifle.  And it's not about need.  I don't think any civilian in America needs an assault rifle.  And if a civilian does feel they need an assault rifle, what exactly do they need it for?  Shooting mass quantities of people?  What people?  Who are these rogue bands of people that we need assault rifles to defend ourselves against?  As far as I'm aware, and correct me if I'm wrong, there hasn't been a case for an assault-style shoot-out on American soil since the Civil War.  Some people have claimed that they need assault rifles to defend themselves should our military turn on us.  I've got news for you...if our military turns on us to the point that they're hunting us down, we might as well turn our guns on ourselves because we're already dead.  I'm not saying that we should just give up our guns because defending ourselves is pointless, but honestly...against our own military?  We're ants under a boot heel.  So...if there's really no point in defending ourselves with assault rifles against our own military, who does that leave?          

We are living in a fear-based society that has us under the impression that the only way we can feel safe anymore is to have a gun strapped to our hip.  Is our world really that terrible that every time we leave the house we are in imminent danger of being attacked?  Or that we are going to stumble upon a violent situation and intervene with our little six-shooter and save the day?  Out of all the people I know who own a gun, how many are actually proficient enough, or brave enough to step up and shoot someone who poses an actual threat?  Basic survival instincts would have the majority of people running away from the shooters, not towards them.  If you're going to fight firepower with firepower, you best believe that the minute you identify yourself as a good guy with a gun, you will ultimately be the next target.  So...you have to make damn sure you're a good shot and take the shooter out before he or she takes you out.  Not that I'm saying the best course of action would be to hide out and hope it all passes, but it takes a very specific frame of mind to kill another human being, even when under threat.  Most gun owners I know speak flippantly as though they would have no problem killing another person who posed a threat...but I wonder about that...I really do.  These are people who live a safe existence in safe neighborhoods in or near safe cities where crime is relatively low...and again, to my knowledge, have never needed to use a gun to defend themselves.  And to take it one step further...what sort of outlook does someone have to have on humanity to believe that they need a gun to protect themselves from the world at large?  How many people out there truly mean to cause us harm on a daily basis?  Is it truly enough to necessitate wearing a gun everywhere?  Do guns actually make us safer, or do they just make us feel safer?

It's interesting to watch videos of lay people put in those school-shooting simulations with paintball guns.  In almost every situation, the lay person either shoots another civilian, or immediately gets shot themselves.  They just don't stand a chance, and that makes perfect sense.  In order to stand a chance, a lay person would have to be in defense-mode 24/7, everywhere they went.  Scanning the crowd, scanning the perimeter, operating with a knowledge of human behavior and at a level of alertness that rivals our own police officers.  It's just not humanly possible to be prepared for a mass-shooting.  In every major shooting with multiple casualties that we've had in our country in the last 5 years, there had to have been a least one person present who was proficient with a gun, but they either didn't have their gun on them (due to restrictions on where we can and can't have our guns) or they were caught completely unawares.  It's not possible to be on high-alert for shooters all the time.  And who in the world would want to be?  If our country gets to that point, I'm really not sure I want to be here for that, although there are people who think we're already there.  How awful to live in such a state of fear all the time.  The sad thing is, I'm sure there are a significant number of people in this country who operate under that state of fear most of the time.  That seems like a miserable existence, but maybe having a gun helps them deal with that level of fear and uncertainly...different strokes for different folks, I guess.  

I was walking to work with Simon the other day, and there's a stretch of woods between our place and the hospital.  Now that the days are shorter, we walk that particular stretch in the dark.  Everything seems scarier in the dark, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it actually is...a flashlight does wonders.  I found myself thinking randomly about what would happen if someone were hiding out in the woods and tried to attack me as I was walking by.  For one, I'd be caught completely unawares...unless they were loud and unwieldy, which is entirely possible, but for the purpose of speculation, we'll assume that the would-be attacker is quiet.  Suppose I did have a gun.  I most likely wouldn't walk to work with it in my hand, and I probably wouldn't have it strapped to my thigh.  If was I wearing it at all, it would probably be in a holster or in my backpack.  Given that I wear a coat, the gun would be zipped up in my coat, and the gun in the backpack would be completely inaccessible.  A gun is only as useful as your accessibility to it.  A person with the intention of doing me harm is not going to give me time to defend myself.  In this particular instance, a gun wouldn't help me.  A knife in my hand would probably be a better option, truth be told.  Unless it is a situation like that sniper who was running around D.C. all those years ago, a person meaning to do me harm is going to get up close and personal, not try to take me out from afar.

In light of the recent high-profile shootings, I'd like to just mention a few things that stuck out to me.  I'll start with the Planned Parenthood shooting, since that one happened first.  I can't help but be disgusted about all the times that Robert Dear fell through the cracks prior to his rampage at the Colorado Springs Planned Parenthood.  This man had a history of violence, including rape, assault, and a previous attack at a different Planned Parenthood.  This wasn't his first rodeo, nor was this a random act of violence committed by a religious zealot.  Is he mentally ill?  Almost certainly.  Does that change the outcome?  Not a bit.  But what could have changed the outcome is if more of his victims had followed through with pressing charges against him, not to mention if the courts hadn't dismissed the charges that actually had been filed.  This man assaulted his second and third wives, not to mention he stalked, raped, and assaulted a woman that he knew from a department store (she pressed charges, but they were dismissed when it was revealed that she was moving out of state after the incident occurred...wtf??).  He had vandalized a Planned Parenthood in South Carolina, and had even been picked up for having an illegal firearm.  How is it that a person displaying this sort of behavior was not behind bars?  How many others just like him are wandering the streets of our country, potentially plotting acts of violence and just waiting for the right time to carry them to fruition?  This whole Planned Parenthood shootout probably could have been prevented if our justice system would have taken care of him years ago when he displayed such violent behavior.  It sickens me to think of how awful a person he was before he stepped into that Planned Parenthood, that our justice system allows criminals like him to walk the streets the among us, and gives them the opportunity to cause harm.  That whole phrase, "when you see something, say something," that became so popular after 9/11 absolutely doesn't work if our justice system isn't going to be 100% behind it.

Kind of the same situation with the shooting in San Bernardino.  According to one of the articles I read, Tashfeen Malik, the woman shooter,  had been posting extremist views on her Facebook page months before the shooting took place.  Her family and friends were concerned.  But did anyone say anything?  And if so, what action was taken?  None, it would seem.  And this is where surveillance comes in.  Had someone said something regarding an extremist post Facebook, how is one to know if it is serious or not?  If it is a threat or not?  I've seen posts on Black Lives Matter Facebook pages where white people were advocating violence against black people, or the immediate deportation of all black people to Africa.  Is that not kind of the same zealot behavior?  What about Christian posts calling for the torture and death of abortionists, or those wonderful Westboro Baptist posts condemning fallen soldiers to hell for the apparent sinful behavior of our nation's homosexual population?  At what point does religious zealotism get to the point that the authorities need to sit up and take notice?  The shooting in San Bernardino is a perfect example of how gun laws do not prevent gun violence.  All the weapons and ammunition used in the attack were obtained legally.    Although, admittedly, the assault weapons were purchased legally by someone else and then transferred illegally to them, but the initial purchase was completely legal (the original purchaser is probably screwed...and rightfully so...did he not question why his friends would want to borrow his assault rifles?  It's one thing to go shooting with your friends and let them use your guns in your presence...it's quite another to just hand them over and let them do with the guns what they please).  And then there's the ammunition...bullets that are designed to go through walls, to go through body armor and kevlar vests.  Why is ammunition of this sort available to the general public?  What exactly is a person hoping to shoot with ammunition like that?  Short answer...people.  I suppose you could hunt animals with it, but that seems a bit much.  It would seem as though guns of that nature combined with the type of ammunition used could only point to a person trying to cause as much damage as possible, as quickly as possible.

I truly am trying to be as even-handed as possible with this post...for the most part, I don't have a problem with guns.  Guns are fun to shoot, I get it.  I also get that if you're someone who hunts, a gun is pretty necessary.  If someone were to break into your house, you have a better chance to getting the intruder to leave or protecting yourself if you have a gun (a really big dog might also suffice).  I get all that, and for the most part, I don't see anything wrong with it.  I have a lot of friends who own guns who are responsible citizens who have no intention of using their guns for anything but hunting, recreation, and in the event of self-defense.  I probably have double that number of friends who have guns who just don't talk about them.  In fact, I would probably be 99% accurate if I were to state that I have more friends and family who own guns than friends and family who don't.  I would probably also be accurate in stating that 99% of them have never used their guns in self-defense from other people (I do have friends/family who have shot coyotes and such who were attacking their dogs, chickens, etc).  That's not to say that they never will need to defend themselves from other people, just that they haven't yet.  I hope they never need to use them for self-defense, and that their guns just sit in their cabinets or under their beds collecting dust for their entire lives, giving them a sense of well-being and safety that people without guns just don't seem to need.  Maybe people without guns are just ignorant to the threats of the world around them.  I guess time will tell, won't it?         

Would You Give Up Your Seat?

On a recent drive to Phoenix, Simon and I were chatting about this, that, and the other thing.  It's a 2-hour minimum drive, so we have plenty of time to talk about all manner of things.  Sometimes our conversations are silly, sometimes they are serious, but frequently, they're completely random. 

On this particular drive, I posed the question to Simon: If you were on the Titanic and you were offered a spot in a lifeboat, would you give that spot up for a child?  Simon, ever the pragmatist, simply stated that he would not give up his seat, but that he would hold the child in his lap, ensuring that both of them survived.  Of course he finds a way to thwart the problem with physics.  Okay, so what if the child was a teenager and too big for a lap.  No dodging this one.  He stated that he probably wouldn't give up his seat for a teenager.  What if it was a teenager he knew?  He thought for a moment, and then said that yes, he would give up his seat for a teenager that he knew.  I asked him how it was different to give up his seat for a teenager he knew versus a teenager that he didn't know.  He thought about it again for a moment, and then stated in all reality, he would give up his seat for a teenager that he didn't know as well. 

We continued the conversation.  Would he give up his seat for a woman?  He said that he would give up his seat for a woman if she was the mother of other children in the boat.  A single woman?  No.  He did say that he would give up his seat for me, and which point I stated that if he was going down with the boat, I was going down with him.  He told me that was silly; I told him that I wouldn't want to survive something that traumatic without him.  He said that Rose survived the sinking of the Titanic and did just fine without Jack.  In reference to the movie, Simon also stated that if we went down together, he would absolutely find a way for both of us to fit on a floating piece of wood together.  He chastised Rose and Jack for not being able to do it, and said that Jack didn't need to die at all.

The questions then turned to me.  Would I give up my seat for a child?  I had thought about this situation randomly last year, and at that time, I had decided that no, I would not give up my seat for a child, any child (the lap idea had never crossed my mind).  This was my main reason why: I am a person who meaningfully contributes to society, and who still has several years to continue to contribute.  How do I know that the child I give my seat up to won't turn out to be a murderer, a rapist, a swindler, a person who skips out on a child support, or a drug addict?  I know it sounds really messed up to think about people that way, especially children, but in a situation of life and death, who is the better candidate to survive?  In short, I wasn't thinking about who would best survive physically, but about who deserved to survive based on what he or she could contribute after the fact.  Is denying a child the potential to become someone great, or someone nefarious, considered selfish?  Am I putting too much importance on what I'd already accomplished, and what I knew I still could accomplish if given a full lifespan?  At what point does one life become more important than another? 

When I now think about the situation with the knowledge that I know the child...if, for instance, the child happens be my niece or nephew, or the child of close friends or family members, then it becomes a little more tricky.  Of course I would want them to survive, and how could I look their parents in the face and tell them that I was keeping my seat and that their child would die with the boat?  In that situation, I would have to give up my seat, but I still probably wouldn't want to.  In a sense, if I gave up my seat for any reason other than selflessness, it would be out of guilt, rather than out of consideration of future potential contribution.  In my mind, that takes away from the gesture of giving up the seat, regardless of the fact that the outcome is the same...the child survives and I die.  

I told Simon all of this, all the while afraid that he was going to think I was some sort of evil person who believed that non-contributing members of society don't deserve to be there at all, regardless if they are children.  He thought about it for a bit, and he didn't necessarily agree with what I said, but he understood where it was coming from.  Why do the lives of children trump the lives of adults?  Why is the death of a child so much more tragic than the death of an adult?  I know these sound like silly questions, and some will dismiss my questions as the ramblings of someone who has never had children, and therefore doesn't understand how a child's life is more important than an adult's, but I think they're rather thoughtful questions, and they're questions that people don't ask because they make others uncomfortable.

In the end, given the idea that children are able to sit on laps and would therefore automatically survive, Simon would give up his seat for a teenager, but probably no one else.  I would give up my seat for a teenager I knew, but no one else.  Does that say something about our ethics?  In this situation, is Simon ethically better than me?  It's easy to come to these conclusions when not actually faced with this situation in real life, but it's something that was interesting to both think about and talk about.            

Living Big in a Little Space

Simon and I are now fully settled in to our 740 square foot apartment.  And we're loving it.  We lost 1,000 feet of liveable space plus a 2-car garage when we downsized, and to tell you the truth, I don't miss it.  At all.  Of course, I might miss that garage once winter gets here, but we'll worry about that when the time comes.  Nothing to be done about it anyway, so maybe it's not worth worrying about at all. 

Simon and I are pretty good at living small.  Outside of the last 2 years in our house, we had been living in apartments for the past 9 years.  Mostly one-bedroom apartments, with the occasional 2-bedroom apartments if our travel companies were feeling generous.  During the 6 years that we did travel nursing together, we managed to fit the majority of our belongings into the back of our Jeep and what little space we had left in the trailer after we had loaded the scooter, motorcycle, wind-surfing equipment, and paddle board stuff.  When we moved out to Flagstaff, we emptied out the storage unit that I'd had since 2005 and gave away, sold, or pitched almost half of what we had been hanging on to.  We then loaded what was left into a 6x12 u-haul trailer and headed west.

Of course, having a house for the first time in years caused a boom in our belongings.  Feeling the pull of domestication and wanting to give it a go, we went about furnishing a 3-bedroom/2-bath house, which was quite the feat given that the only piece of furniture that we moved out with us was a 100 year-old rocking chair.  I actually had a lot of fun going to thrift stores and perusing craigslist looking for unique pieces of furniture that we could refinish.  At one point our garage was so full of furniture in various stages of restoration that there wasn't room for a single car.  We enjoyed our hours out in the garage sanding and painting, and when all was said and done, we had some pretty cool looking furniture.  And even better yet, we really didn't take a financial hit in the process.  I'd do it all over again should the need arise, but honestly, I don't see that happening for a very long time.

I love the idea of living small.  It was an adjustment at first, but once the idea took root in my head, it was all I could think about.  It's still a work in progress, as I coined myself an "organized hoarder" during the course of our most recent move.  I'm so good at organizing and putting things into boxes, bins, baskets and totes that the average person would have no idea how much stuff I actually have.  I'm like a real-life Tetris master.  I have a lot of stuff.  Let's just start and end right there.  I've even gotten rid of a lot, and still I have more than the average person would ever need.  But having things isn't really about need when you're living comfortably, is it?  For the longest time, my mantra in life regarding possessions was that if one is good, then three (or more) is better.  That way, if I get tired of the first one or something happens to it, I have two more similar ones waiting in the wings to take its place.  The good thing about my hoarding is that I'm a bit like a reptile...I will only grow as big as my living space allows.  The bigger the house, the more stuff I'm going to have.  Conversely, the smaller the space...you get the idea.  If I was forced to whittle my possessions down based on need, I could fit all of it into a single tote.  When you think about it, as human beings, we really require very little to survive comfortably.  Food, shelter, clothing, and transportation are our basic necessities.  Everything else is just details.  Some of us, myself included, just have more details than we know what to do with.

And that brings me to today.  I'm sitting here in my 740 square foot apartment, what remaining possessions I have are tucked away into boxes, bins, baskets, and totes.  It doesn't feel homey, necessarily, but it's functional and it's cozy.  Simon and I have successfully transformed our living space from a 3-bedroom house to a 1-bedroom apartment, and we have room to spare.  Granted, it took a lot of creative organizing on my part as the process of trimming down my possessions continues, but I'm amazed at how well we were able to do this.  And I love it.

The things I love the most:
1. I no longer care when it's garbage or recycling day, since the giant bins are just a short walk from our apartment.
2. The plumbing in the apartment is far better than the plumbing was in our house, so I no longer have to wonder if I'll need the plunger after an extended sitting session.  Seriously, this toilet is a beast...it's a little bit scary, actually.
3. I can walk to work in under 10 minutes.
4. I can walk to a a couple different coffee shops in under 10 minutes.
5. I can walk to downtown Flagstaff in about 20 minutes.
6. I can walk to a post office bin in 5 minutes.
7. I can pretty much walk everywhere I need to go (except Target) in under half an hour.
8. Our upstairs neighbors are awesome.  They like beer, The Oatmeal, animals (they're both biology grad students), and being outside almost as much, if not more so, than Simon and I.
9. No more yard work, although I'm going to miss our garden...that was probably the best part about having a house with a yard.
10. We cut our monthly rent payment almost in half.  Which means we can save save save for more trips, more traveling, and quite possibly, a camper van.

And there it is.  My life, right now.  I'm very thankful for the experiences and the knowledge that I've gained thus far in my 35 years.  I'm looking forward to what's next, even if what's next is simply just being here, in this place, with my two favorite boys for however long we want to be here.  Life is good.  

   

My View on The View

So there's been a lot of discord in the nursing world the last couple days due to a few comments made by the ladies of The View in regards to the Miss America pageant, specifically about how Miss Colorado wore nursing scrubs during the talent portion and spoke a monologue about how being a nurse is her talent.  Snarky comments were apparently made regarding her "nursing costume," and there was confusion amongst the hosts as to why she had donned a "doctor's stethoscope."  It's gone so far as to flood my Facebook feed with all sorts of "Show Your Stethoscope" memes, and I even got invited to some event encouraging people to boycott watching The View on October 15th in support of nursing.  Easy enough...I don't watch that show anyway.  I can't help but wonder...will this issue still be an issue by October 15th?  By next week even?

I didn't watch the Miss America competition, nor did I see the episode of The View that everyone is talking about.  I didn't see the apology episode where apparently in lieu of apologizing, the women claimed to either be stupid or joking (my bet is on the former, as it takes some degree of smarts to pull off the latter).  In order to be fully informed on this matter, one would think I should watch clips about these things.  I just can't be bothered to care enough to put myself through that. 

For one...it's the Miss America pageant, which is nothing but fluff and stuff and the blatant objectification of women, even the smartest of women.  I haven't seen a Miss America pageant since I was a little girl and couldn't fully realize the frivolity of it all.  Like most little girls, I liked the sparkly dresses and some of the talent displays.  It wasn't until I was older that I realized how awful it all is, how they are forced to parade around in bathing suits to have their bodies judged like sides of beef hanging up in a slaughter house.  Don't get me wrong, these women go into these pageants with these expectations, so it's not like they show up and are caught unawares by anything that transpires during the course of the pageant.  It's just...icky...and truthfully, I just don't see the point.  I'm not, nor have I ever been, a pageant person, so I don't really see the merit in any of it.  And honestly, why do we all the sudden expect the Miss America pageant to respect high-minded ideals?  It's incredibly mindless and superficial...at best.  I'm definitely not trying to take anything away from Miss Colorado, and in fact, I think it's admirable that she tried to bring some intelligence into the Miss American pageant...it's just that culturally, intelligence and warm fuzzies aren't why people care about the Miss America pageant.

For two...it's The View.  Are competent, intelligent, professional nurses really upset, let alone surprised, by anything those morons have to say?  I watched a snippet of The View years ago when Barbara Walters was still on it.  I felt like my brain was melting and my ears were bleeding.  I had to turn it off immediately for fear that my IQ would have to drop much too rapidly to even process the compounded stupidity of the hosts.  And not only are they stupid, they're also very mean.  They sit there at their little desk like mean little trolls and spew all sorts of vile, verbal diarrhea about whomever happens to be in their crosshairs that morning...even their fellow co-hosts and guests.  I just couldn't take it.

And who are these people anyway?  Michelle Collins?  Never heard of her.  Apparently she's some sort of comedian...not a very good one.  Joy Behar, a washed up comedian...and calling her a comedian is a bit of a stretch, not to mention insulting to comedians who are actually funny.  Raven-Symone...the grown-up little girl from the Cosby Show...the Cosby Show...enough said.  Whoopi...oh Whoopi, how far she has fallen.  When I heard she was joining The View, a part of me mourned the actress she used to be.  What a waste of her talent to be sitting behind that awful desk with those awful women.  What I see when I look at the hosts of The View is a group of women who were barely relevant in the very best of times, and who are currently struggling to remain relevant by any means necessary, usually with insults, snark, and just poor taste.

It saddens me that in a panel full of women, women who have struggled and who have worked hard to be able to sit behind that desk amongst their peers, they find it funny, let alone appropriate, to belittle the efforts and accomplishments of other women.  And to go after nursing besides, one of the most respected professions in the world.  Have they all been so lucky to have never been to a doctor's office or been in the hospital?  Have they never interacted with a nurse?  Have they no empathy for the healthcare profession in general?  I think it's more simple than that.  I think they are just idiots.  Idiots who have completely lost touch with reality...idiots who think that everything and everyone in life is a joke.

In a world consumed by entertainment, is it any wonder that a bunch of random people in the entertainment industry aren't entertained by the culture of nursing?  Even at its best, nursing is not entertaining to those outside the profession.  There's no sparkles, no glamour, no creativity, or mind-blowing gymnastics.  Of course, it could be argued that arranging 21 IV lines, a ventilator, and continuous dialysis of an ICU patient takes both creativity and gymnastics, but not to people who are consumed with celebrities and fashion.  Unless it's a concept touched on by Grey's Anatomy, they just don't understand, and their lack of understanding led them to make ignorant and insulting comments about a profession of which they're not able to empathize.  The fact that the ladies of The View weren't willing to apologize for their ignorance, which would have been the stand-up thing to do, just makes them both ignorant and disrespectful.  My biggest hope is that maybe next we'll see a teacher, a doctor, a veterinarian, or a policewoman stand up and give a monologue about how her passion for her profession is her talent.  I hope that the disparaging comments made by the hosts of The View don't discourage women to follow their hearts and embrace the idea that women can be beautiful, talented, and intelligent.

Perhaps if I was more passionate about my profession, I would care more about what was said.  It's true that I'm not overly passionate about nursing, in fact there are times that I'm downright critical of it.  What makes me kind of laugh about the whole thing is that historically, nurses have a reputation for being mean to each other.  Google the phrase "nurses eat their young" (a common phrase in the nursing profession) and you might be a little surprised at how many articles have been written about nurses bullying each other.  An outsider to the profession upon seeing the backlash against The View might be surprised to find out how ugly nurses can be to each other, and that nurses in general aren't one giant, cohesive collaborative who stick up for each other no matter who the bully is.  I've personally heard nurses say far uglier things to each other than "doctor's stethoscope" or "nurse's costume."

But I digress...for the most part I truly like nursing and I think it's a good fit for me.  It's true though that I don't necessarily appreciate when my hard work, my sweat, my tears, my sleepless nights, and my commitment to my patients is trivialized by people who have no idea what they're talking about.  Perhaps if my profession was criticized by someone more credible, I might actually be upset.  I really can't be bothered to care what the women of The View think about me or my profession, because they and their small-minded opinions mean nothing to me.  The opinions of my peers, my patients, and the people I interact with on a professional level are far more important to me than any talking head in New York City will ever be.  And that's the meat of it.  Show you my stethoscope?  I've got better things to do.