The Dreaded Doctor Visit

I hate going to the doctor, and I try to avoid it all costs.  After three weeks of on-and-off congestion, coughing, and sore throat, I finally could no longer resist the medical-industrial complex today.

My reasons for hating going to the doctor are numerous.  My biggest peeve is having to sit for long periods of time with other patients in the waiting room--who are usually sicker than me--coughing on me and sitting too close to me in the waiting area.  It feels like I'll surely only get worse by going to the doctor.  


The doctor's visit also never really offers the closure that I'm looking for about what ails me...and perhaps how I might prevent that ailment in the future since I never feel quite confident that the doctor actually knows precisely what's wrong with me.  Like, I left with the impression I have a sinus infection today...but they also tested for strep throat...and yet, it could also be a general cold or flu virus, right?  Regardless, I did take my antibiotics happily since I just want this thing to go away.


The worst, though, is the fact that I never know what they might spring on me that they want to check on.  Today  I was in because I can't breath out of my nose, and I really need to be able to do that, especially to be able to sleep.  All of a sudden, the doctor is pulling my shirt up to check for moles, which I don't have...even after asking me if I have any.  I appreciate the preemptive lookout for cancer, but what in the heck was that all about?  At least I didn't have to put that stupid gown on....  


That's all the motivation I need for exercise and vitamins!  

A day for Emily Dickinson

Sometimes after a long day at work and an exhausting day of extroversion, I need two things: beer and poetry.  


I know that beer and poetry don't often go together...it's usually hard liquor or wine.  But the thing is, when one drinks alone, a bottle of wine is too much.  The single bottles of wine are not very good...and those half-bottles from Whole Foods are great, but I don't usually have those lying around.  Beer is perfect for these days because I can have just one and relax.  


Poetry is perfect because it forces me to slow down and think differently.  I can't delve into a poem and keep thinking as I have all day at work.  I have to allow myself to be affected by it and drawn into the metaphors and imagery.  Emily Dickinson is one of my favorites to get lost in...partly because the world of poetry was really opened up to me through her poems, but also because the more I read, the many more layers beg to be uncovered.  


I share with all of you one of my favorites:

You cannot put a Fire out
A thing that can ignite
Can go, itself, without a Fan
Upon the slowest night


You cannot fold a Flood
And put it in a Drawer
Because the winds would find it out
And tell your Cedar floor

"Too bad m'sieu! You are too impetuous!"

...this is what the Duc d'Orterre yells at Batman as he lunges at the Duc.  I’m taking a comic book course this summer, and it is my first time reading comics.  Like, I didn’t even pull them out of the newspaper as a kid.  Last week we read the first 11 issues of Batman, who is called “The Batman, weird figure of darkness.” 

I don’t know what I expected out of comics, but so far, these first issues of Batman are hilariously xenophobic, sexist, racist, you name it.  One that takes place in Paris with “Le Duc d’Orterre” is so ridiculous it made me laugh out loud.  This is the Duc :

He says things like "Eh. Mes Amis! Bring this thing to my temple.  I shall be amused for a little while."  The 'thing' he is referring to is Batman.  The Duc even has cronies, who wear berets and scarves while they are hustling Bruce Wayne.  


I'm just really not sure what to do with this genre yet.  I'm cracking open this week's reading now, "Batman: The Dark Night Returns."   We'll see if this one converts me or seals my fate to struggle through these remaining four weeks of summer school!

To Vent or Not to Vent

I’ve been venting a lot today – and honestly a lot in general.  I’m annoyed at the moment about my work, school, and personal life imbalance.  I’m doing too good of a job at the things I don’t really care about and not good enough at the things that are really important to me.

What’s a gal to do?  Complain.  Bitch and moan.  Commiserate with friends and sympathetic ears. 

Tom Wolfe would likely admonish me and call it hemorrhoids, a symptom of being a part of an extended Me Generation.  No, I do realize it's not the 70’s.  But in the era of You Tube whose tagline is “broadcast yourself” and Facebook status updates from individuals who think buying toilet paper is a PSA, it is perhaps worse than what Tom Wolfe was talking about because of the decades of perfecting self-absorption.  He might also confront me about my tendency to indulge in delusional fantasies of utopian socialism, which leave me bitter. 

So how does one realize her/his potential as a human being in the midst of daily struggles, annoyances and the intense pressures that often define success...and resist the cultural call to self-definition, self-improvement, and individualism that ultimately leave us alone and isolated?

For the moment I’m turning to read more of Alexis de Tocqueville's work…who believed that democracy continually turns people back into themselves “and threatens, at last, to enclose him entirely in the solitude of his own heart.”  Yikes.

The day after

Contradictory as it may seem for someone like me who is often complaining about the state, the man, the government, etc., I actually love celebrating the 4th of July in DC. Every year since 2005 (except for last year when I was out of town), I start out the day at the National Archives for a dramatic reading of portions of the Declaration of Independence, visit the Folklife Festival, and then, watch the fireworks.

So, after skipping a year, the biggest surprise was the change in the Dramatic Reading of the Declaration of Independence:

2009 -- We got to celebrate our national nerds (a.k.a. the middle school National History Day award winners) as they read portions of the Declaration of Independence alongside professional re-enactors.

2011-- Jeff Shultz, hockey player for the Washington Capitals (and a Canadian), read portions of the Declaration of Independence alongside professional re-enactors.

Is it just me or are professional athletes not exactly known for their dramatic reading skills? Corporate America wins again by replacing the good old days of celebrating outstanding students with a sponsorship benefit and a PR tool for the Caps.  This change may not seem like it is such a big deal, but it really disappointed me so much that I'm still thinking about it today! I really enjoy celebrating the people of our country, not our big businesses.

I think another part of my disappointment stems from the special place in my heart for children who get in front of a huge audience to speak in any capacity. Many of you know my 3rd grade spelling bee story that took place in the corridor of the Houma mall in front of a large seated audience and shoppers walking by. I misheard the word and perfectly spelled "b-i-t-c-h" and sobbed on stage when I was told I was disqualified because the word was "bench." It took many more spelling bees, recitals, and middle school plays to get over my public speaking anxiety. I know some people never get over stuff like that...and anyway, I think its important to give children a forum to celebrate their achievements and to have a chance to honor their successes in public.

Seriously, how much more meaningful is it for a middle school student to be an active participant in a national celebration than for a local athlete? What a bummer that we couldn't give outstanding students that opportunity this year!

Wrong Place Wrong Time

On my way into work this morning, I got $880 in moving violation tickets without even breaking the law.  No, this is not a joke.  This is for real.

$150 -- turning right on a red arrow (which was not a red arrow, it was a yellow arrow, and the officer admitted it was yellow before she wrote the ticket).

$150 -- Failure to pull to curb for emergency vehicle -- I was in the left lane of a two lane road, and there were no cars on the right lane (nor was there a shoulder)...and the cop was in the right lane...so, I would assume that pulling to the right would actually be the WRONG thing to do in that moment.

$30 -- Failure to Provide Proof of Insurance -- okay, yes, my insurance card is out of date, but I do in fact have the insurance, I just didn't have the card.

$50 -- Failure to Exhibit Current Registration -- this one sucks particularly bad because I actually did have the current registration, but after the fifth time of her asking me why I didn't learn such and such in my driver's school manual (as if instructions for getting pulled over are offered in driving school!), I got all flustered and couldn't find it until 5 minutes AFTER this encounter.

$500 -- here is the biggie! -- vehicle operating without proper insurance -- um, wait a minute...didn't I just get a $30 ticket above for this same violation?

As the officer approached the vehicle with tickets in hand, she said "now, here's your nightmare."  She proceeded to hand me each ticket -- one-by-one -- by the third I said, "this seems really excessive."  And she said "what?"  And I repeated, "don't you agree that this is really excessive"...apparently she did not since she threw the additional three tickets into my lap.

I mean, what a ridiculous world we live in when it is possible for me to not break the law and yet receive nearly a month's rent worth of tickets and a thrashing of verbal abuse from someone I haven't even personally offended.  Just by existing and driving a car, I got to be on the receiving end of someone else's power and control issues.  Awesome.  And because that person is given a badge, the consequences could increase my insurance, tag points onto my license and make it more difficult for me to even be able to drive my car.  Amazing.

Maybe this cop this morning was just having daymares?  I could have recommended hydrotherapy....

Possessed

I make my best decisions based on my emotions and passions.  I devote a lot of time to inner reflection and knowing myself so that I can take risks without calculating them and jump on opportunities without weighing options.  It's important to me to live like that because my way of thinking has really never gelled with reasoned analysis.  I have been most unhappy when I've done the "logical" thing.  Logic has never really meshed well with the kind of lifestyle I enjoy.  When I was in college, I thought that meant that I should embrace a reckless lifestyle since I didn't embrace a logical one.  And luckily, that turned out to be a rationalization, which proved to be based on faulty reason.  And so, I finally came into my own in the past few years and have cultivated a strong inner language that I rely on for all decisions, including who I date, how to spend money, and staying committed to my academic pursuits despite the many frustrations.   It has saved me from the exhausting malaise of not feeling enthusiastic about life despite having nothing reasonable to complain about.

All this is to say that I suppose that intuitively, I've always rejected Rational Choice Theory.  This article in the New York Times today expressed something I've already been thinking about since the current literary theory that I am pursuing as my intended career focus is predicated on the failure of rational choice theory.  I really liked reading this in a new context outside of the classroom!  It also gave me a boost of confidence in a week that has felt oppressively stressful.  The stress has been clouding my usual clarity, so it was nice to read this and find a moment of clarity in the day when I was actually connecting deeply with something in the news -- a rare occurrence -- and  reminded of how I really do think that reason leads us astray many times and can explain a whole lot of unhappiness if one is willing to dig deep and acknowledge that some decisions, despite brilliant reasoning, are crushing the soul.  

At yet another intersection between life and literature, my answer to the failure of reason in my personal life -- and increasingly in my intellectual pursuits -- is a significant amount of self-examination or autocritique.  I think that this is one of the strongest forms of resistance to the soul crushing aspects of our culture.  Knowing the deeper aspect of the self requires a certain rejection of the logical frameworks and reasoned analyses that lead us to believe we retain our agency.  In fact, calculated behavior is a limited form of selfhood because it denies our emotional intelligence and its role in making good decisions.    I'm mostly thinking about all of this because I'm starting in on a research paper, which is focused on possessive love...I'm currently thinking through the correlation between personal possessions and possessive love.  It seems to me that our culture's fixation on possessions -- be them material possessions, like wealth, or immaterial possessions, like power -- have perverted the way that we love and stunted our ability to develop deep emotional bonds by creating a cultural mindset focused on possessions, so that love and emotion become something to "have," rather than something to experience.  And what good is "having" love if you can't feel it?