Thanks for the Memories

Thought I'm soooo glad to see 2013 go, I thought I would take some tome to say thank you for all the experiences.

I'm deeply grateful to Glenn for his generous spirit as my store started failing. He believed in us enough to help us through the last couple of weeks.

When I look back, I'm proud we went as long as we did with our store. I know that it could work with someone with a better plan. My hope is that someone will figure this out and grow it into something wonderful.

Yay for medical coverage that could deal with my cancer  quickly and that nothing spread. Thankfully, my scars are healing and my spirits are good.

I'm thankful for the Coos County Library System. The DVD section entertains me when I'm low and the access to interesting and amazing books keeps me informed on a large variety of topics.

We found a wonderful friend in Nick, who tends our yard and does odd jobs. He delights in science and science fiction as much as we do.

Life works best when you are willing to accept the less than perfect. We found a used spa tub to redo our master bathroom, a closeout vent/microwave for very cheap and Murry bought me a slightly used tablet for the holiday. Now we just need to find a deal on some cabinets.

It might sound silly, but sometimes you gotta sit down and thank the most insignificant things. Breathing comes to mind. I also have the ability to type, think and hear reasonably well. I can see some.

Strange things I learned this year include: You can cut your own hair and get noticed but changing your glasses doesn't register on anyone's radar. Vegetarian isn't so bad, once in a while.

I raise my glass of wait.. I don't have anything but water.. heh oh well.. DEAL. I raise my glass of water to the new year. How can it help but be better than this one!

Happy New Year!

Santa Baby

If you got no one to love this holiday, have a look in the mirror. That person needs love and attention.

Listen to Ertha Kit and ask for what you want. Make a plan, take a few steps and see what happens.

Before I met the Murry, I wrote down that I wanted a man like him. I also wanted a house. Murry had a house.

All I did was want those things. I had a clear definition of what they would look, sound and feel like. When I found them, they were familiar.

People like me, who grew up with an chaotic family sometimes find that familiar. Even if they vow they don't want what they lived, they find themselves repeating family patterns.

We can fill in those ruts and make a new path. It's not always easy or fun, but it's WORTH the outcome.

Make a plan, buy some sand, fill in those furrows and get working on a better life.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Great Balls of Fire

When I complain about my bad childhood and have those low moments when crying seems the only reasonable thing to do, I often lose sight of the wonderful gift it gave me. It's not some subtle abstract gift. It made me fucking awesome.

If you can't deal with that assessment, feel free to comment. Though maybe read the whole post first.

Some years before I started back to college, I talked to some friends about going to Europe. I had saved a few bucks from scholarship money and I found someone to be my companion. I thought, I'm legally blind, might be useful to have someone as a sighted guide.

Since I was paying the way, I thought that I should direct the itinerary. She didn't want to go where I wanted, see what I wanted and generally became distant. I'm not sure if I'm bossy or it just wasn't meant to be or what. None of it happened that way. Though I did get my passport.

As college wound down, I got the chance to go to a study program in Oxford, England. As part of my planning and research, I decided I wanted to see Italy and more in Europe while I was there. I got an extended ticket for a month and bought a couple of guide books and a rail pass.

With 34 fellow students on the program, I imagined I would find someone who would want to go at least a few of the same places. I made a few friends and asked them where they were going. None of them had any similar plans.

Faced with the choice of going alone, or not going, I chose to go by myself. I had blind person tools, like a magnifier  a small set of binoculars and a white cane. Though my cane wasn't a full sized used for walking one. It was just what they told me was an "indicator cane." only about three feet. It worked as just a kind of "hey, if I run into you, I didn't mean to" kind of thing. It worked well.

I also had a little translator computer I bought at Radio Shack. It was supposed to let me enter a sentence in English and then give me the phrase in the local language. It frustrated me and I never used it "in the field."

My experiences in the UK while going to school gave me confidence to do the trip by myself. I missed the school bus to go to Stone Henge so I had to find a way to catch up. I hopped a train and wandered around Salisbury, England, hoping to find the group.

As it was raining, I was wearing my rain poncho with the hood up. It occurred to me that my beacon like hair would probably make it easier for others to spot me, I lowered it. Seconds later, someone shouted my name and I caught up with our group.

It helps to be clever. After school ended later that month, I flew to Paris.

France proved a tad tricky but I'm not above asking for help and I managed to find my hostel and meet some friends. When I go back, for sure I'm buying an A to Z map of the big cities I visit. I got blissfully lost in Paris. While a joy, it's nice to get back when you want.

The guide books advised a backpack over any kind of suitcase. It leaves your hands free. I picked the lightest internal frame pack with hip strap I could find. I also took my denim day pack and a "bum bag" to carry as a purse.

Nice is nice so I said it twice. Then I hopped a train down to Rome and roamed. Okay, I'll stop now. I LOVE Italy. Aww heck, I love traveling. Got lost in Rome too. With a sighted lady who spoke Italian! She had a map. Eventually I took it from her and found our way back.

Yep, a blindish me took a map from a sighted woman and found our way back. She wanted to go see the Sistine Chapel, but we were in the wrong part of the Vatican. We did go inside St. Peters and wander around the square. Very quietly and to myself, I sang Vatican Rag by Tom Lerher. Cheeky geeky American. (sorry I wasn't going to do that anymore.)

I even LOOK American at least to one Italian guy. I approached as he sang a rousing song while unloading a truck. He broke into English and sang, "I wait for you pretty lady!" Swoon.

I stand out with the white hair and I think I was committing the cardinal travel sin of wearing sandals with socks. I never thought that was a good thing until my feet were too sore to wear regular shoes.

I found some other travel companions and I did make it to the Sistine Chapel. Though there's little comparison to it's stunning beauty, my favorite part was listening to "oh wow" in every world language.The faint scent of must and paint added to the ambiance.

After a few days, I hopped the train to Florence. The Tuscan countryside reminds me of wine country near Napa, California. Only greener and more bucolic.

The hostel couldn't accommodate me so they gave me a list of local hotels that rented rooms for fairly cheap. Twice the rate of the hostel, but I didn't have to share. I think I was there three nights. It felt like I could walk the whole city along the red terracotta roofs.

I followed some ladies into a line next to the Duomo thinking it was the way inside. Turns out it was the line to CLIMB the dome! Hundreds of steps with my bad knee and chunky body, I should probably have passed, but I was too embarrassed to beg off.

I'm glad I didn't. These breathtaking views show the awesome power of the Medici family wealth. Next time I think I'll climb the bell tower.

Exhaustion and the awesome view combined to set me on a depressive path. I contemplated throwing myself off the dome. I felt so alone up there. Obviously I didn't. I started to think no one would notice or care and no one would know how to contact the people I did know in America. Whatever reason, I took these awesome photographs and climbed back down.

My cane came in handy when a group of gypsy children approached me in the Duomo square. The guide book said that it was common to distract someone by holding something in front of them and then going in their pockets. The kids surrounded me and held a piece of cardboard toward me. I waved them all back with my cane. I didn't hit any of them, but I made sure I kept safe.

I left Florence and headed for Venice. I spent the day there rode around on the vaporetta Grand Canal boat "bus" and went over to St. Mark's square. I didn't go inside the Doge's palace but I did see the beauty of the mosaics inside the cathedral. The drizzle must have kept tourists in their rooms as the square sported more pigeons than people. Cool with me, I like birds better.

I selected the special of the day at the one sit down meal as the sun set. Lasagna, a salad and a mimosa made with thick apricot juice and some kind of Tuscan sparkling wine. Though I ate alone, I felt content as I floated to catch my train.

I'll write more about my ballsy adventures in later posts.

See? Fucking awesome. Told ya.

My Heart Belongs to Daddy

A couple of people have said they were working on quitting smoking. Congratulations to them.

Everyone in my family of origin smoked. Everyone except me. Some have since quit, but at one time or another, all three of my siblings and both parents lived with this lung destroying addiction.

Both my parents and all the men my mother married drank to excess. She denies that she "drank that much." Compared to an ocean, a lake isn't that much. But it's still water.

So just after my parents divorced and my father had custody of me and my older sister, it wasn't uncommon for him to have cans of beer on the coffee table. He'd leave four or five just strewn there. Often he'd have a few sips left in one, forget he already had one and open another.

I can hear his throaty "yeuck yeuch" as he sat in his green shirt and boxers laughing at HeeHaw and sucking his teeth. A wisp of smoke trailed from his jutting cigarette as he curled his fingers to reach for the Coors can.

On more than one occasion I sipped a few dribbles myself. I was around five. Yeah, dad couldn't ever be called the most responsible parent. He was doing the best he could.

One day, I came by and started sipping the dregs of his cans.The tang of the amber liquid tickled my nose. I must have been exceptionally small or the table larger, as I remember bringing the cans to the edge, tipping and sipping. I grabbed one, raised it to my lips and poured stale beer and cigarette ashes down my throat 

I've heard that kissing a smoker for a non smoker is like "licking an ashtray." I've kissed a smoker and I drank an ashtray. They're not the same.

I cannot get that experience out of my mind and whenever the thought of smoking or beer drinking comes up, I can't help but gag. Daddy had no notion of the valuable gift he gave me. He just liked his drinking and smoking ways.

I know addictions are rough things to get through. I hope those of you who are trying to change your lives have wonderful success.

Kind comments always welcome.

Don't Bring Me Down

Do something to improve the life of someone else. Just do it. Try something. Smile at everyone and be okay. I get that we can't all be happy, just choose okay. 

I had so many other things to write about today. Too many ideas in fact. Finally I decided to write this. To just ask everyone to chill out and lighten up. Grab on to kindness and don't let go. Buy your co worker a cup of coffee or have a brief chat. Whatever you can spare from your own busy life. 

Short and sweet. Kind comments welcome. 

Something from Nothing

I started to cry as I watched people pick through trash for pennies a pound. I wondered about a world that regards people who do this as trashy themselves. The 60 Minutes report went on to show how a music teacher created instruments from the trash and formed a makeshift orchestra.

Humans amaze me. It takes little digging to find cruelty and waste, yet among all the flawed brokenness, beauty shines.

I live with a master scrounge. He wont dive into a dumpster, but he's been known to lurk behind stories that put unwanted items near there. He thinks nothing of asking repair crews for left over materials. Our store had an entire light bank scrounged from a store remodel, including lights.

Can you imagine what we can do when we start looking at everything and everyone as valuable?  Imagine a world where many more people had access to the basics of food, shelter and safety? How can we create such a world? How can we employ people in activities that spark their minds and show their skill?

I choose to start with deciding to see value in everyone. I urge you to do the same. Start looking for beauty and value everywhere. I bet you'll find more than you ever expected.

Kind comments welcome.

Workin on the Chain Gang

My perspective may be a lot skewed by being entrepreneurial by nature and having few real world jobs, but I don't get staying miserable at work. Maybe it's the questioning part of me. I see it as a kind of equation.

       work = pay = happy
       work+grief = pay-happy

You spend time doing something for pay. At the end of an agreed upon period of time you get compensation. Though there are lots of kinds of compensations that don't involve money. Prestige, education or even health benefits can all enhance a work experience.

Then there are work stresses that people put up with to gain money. Some of them are emotional, like being a caregiver to the elderly or sick. You risk the sadness at their passing or the stress of their pain. Working as a carpet layer can hurt your knees and logging and mill work can injure or even kill a worker.

Most work that has high hazard gets compensated monetarily at a higher rate, but sometimes that isn't the case. Caregivers might feel a sense of compassion as they help someone reduce their suffering. Then one person's compensation might be another's torture. It really depends on a person's perspective.

My confusion begins when someone complains about their work and I ask what they plan to do about it. They often react like I'm crazy for even thinking that.

One friend recently told me that her boss yells at her. When I tried to find out what was going on, the girl threatened to kill herself. I get that it's very painful to get yelled at and there is way more going on than a lousy boss. Still, that might be a drastic reaction to her pain and stress.

The person involved struggles and I take her pain serious. I know enough about her to stay calm and just remind her of little things to alleviate her suffering. I have tried to get her to find a way to look at the boss as someone who yells at the wind. I asked her to let it brush past her and just go do her work.

I suspect that she, like many people, gets something out of the interaction. Maybe it fits her view of herself. Maybe she believes she deserves to be mistreated and therefore this confirms it. This is what I suspect as she refuses to take ANY step, even in conversation, to change her life.

Something else that I find interesting. I know a guy who works as a security guard who complained about a work site that didn't allow guards to use the fridge. Plus he had some comments about how some areas could be secured better. His supervisor told him that they didn't want his input.

He doesn't want to be doing security in the first place and keeps going on interviews for different kinds of jobs. I just wish that he could find some okayness and not stress over the job he has now.

He also complains about other guards not doing enough. I really wonder why people do that? Constantly compare themselves to their coworkers in an effort to one up or one down themselves. How does that help your own life? I have never heard anyone that complained about a coworker benefit from that complaint. Even when they weren't doing their job.

Suggesting an improvement that has clear benefits to the company may change things. Feel free to make a proposal that saves time, money, energy and improves safety. Also, making an employer aware of unsafe practices and refusing to DO unsafe practices should be the only time to take a real stand. That's simply self preservation.

Why continue with an employer who does not share your sense of values? If you want an open creative place where people pull their wight and share their experiences and you don't have that, make a plan to move to a workplace that does. If you choose to stay and believe you can improve the one you are working at, realize, you made a CHOICE.

I can tell you it IS possible to keep a job you mostly like and improve it through how you act. Rarely can you throw up a list of demands. Think being manipulative is a bad thing? Then it's time to find another job. Humans manipulate each other all the time.

Pay more attention to the people who are doing good things and who respond to improvement. Start isolating and making less fuss over what goes wrong.

Just a little side note that I thought while writing this. Have you considered one reason you're not getting anywhere with your complaint is someone has decided to isolate YOU? It's great to know you're good at your job, but what if you're not as good as you think you are? How about asking for help in improving even if you think you're doing your best?

Sometimes we find ourselves seeing something wrong everywhere. Certainly leave any hazardous workplace, but be careful to not take your fault finding with you.

Whether you stay or go, consider re framing your complaints into something that will benefit where you work. You could also re frame then as unimportant. How about if someone is lazy, suggesting the whole group needs a bit of extra training? If you don't like the rules but they don't HURT you, decide to let that go. Don't use the work fridge, bring food that doesn't require it. Use a thermos to keep your drink cold.

I realize that much of this post is complaining about other people's complaints. I want you to know that I hear what you are all saying and my one sincere hope is that you find a wonderful life that brings you what you most desire. You spend almost a third of your life working. Shouldn't it be at a place that you enjoy?

Peace.

King of Pain

Every time I go to the doctor, the clerk gives me a piece of paper with general symptoms on it. I always put down what I observe, but the doc almost never comments on my knee pain. I'm sure she chalks it up to my fatness and therefor isn't really important. It will go away when I get thinner.

I do not seek meds for pain. I rarely take them. I worry about addiction as my family could get caught up in that. Though I suppose I don't really worry THAT much. It doesn't seem to be my thing. Addiction I mean. I can take a single drink of alcohol and not want any more.

I tried pot when I was younger and only smoked a few times. When I realized that the effect seemed like being over tired, I saw no need to continue. Over tired is free and legal. Though, the feeling isn't that great so I don't even do that.

I have no idea where I got the idea, but I started directing my energy away from pain and toward feeling okay. I mean even before I heard Iyanla Van Zant expressed the "Choose Okay" sentiment.

Writing always helps me figure things out. It's not like I just deny any and all sources of pain. I think that's dangerous  As I've said before, it's there for a purpose. "Don't do that. It will hurt."

So I write up the painful things so I can sort through them. Then I can set it aside and use my mental energy to think about the areas where I feel contentedness and joy.

Indiana Jones went through a massively painful event where he got scrapes and bruises all over. His girlfriend began kissing him and he complained about the pain. So she angrily asked where it didn't hurt. He presented his elbow and she kissed it. Then he pointed to various other parts and she kissed those too.

Treat yourself the same way. Let the pain be real while paying some attention to the places that feel fine.

I find I bring more feelings of peace into my life when I think thoughts of peace. I find calm when I look for calm.

Today, I ask you to write down your most prominent pain. Now set that aside for a moment. Think about the spot on your body or the place in your mind where no pain exists. Wallow in the splendid spot for as long as you can.

I find that whenever I do this, I feel less pain even from the very real hurts. Never deny the powerful and amazing lessons the universe has for you by giving you the gift of a painful experience. Give yourself the gift of learning those lessons well enough to go on without the pain.

Kind and gentle comments welcome.

Sweet Dreams

I told someone about a desire I have that I keep close to my heart. Thankfully my trust was justified and she let me dream without criticism. That hasn't always been the case in my life.

While riding with a friend I was happily babbling about a horse property I'd found. It was more than I could afford so I was musing about boarding animals for other people. I have no horse experience, but I thought how hard could it be to rent space.

My friend started screaming how it was hard work and I shouldn't even consider it because I didn't know anything about horses. It wasn't even like she was trying to steer me away from the idea, I felt she was calling me stupid for even thinking it for a second. After a few minutes of stunned silence, I muttered that I wasn't planning on torturing horses.

We're no longer friends. I can't stay around people who crap on my dreams in the planning stages. Kind guidance and pointing out pitfalls can actually excite me. Then it's a feeling of you're taking me seriously. Just screaming "stupid idea" makes me think of YOU as MEAN.

Part of my idea involves contact with people who have disabilities. Though I may still work on this project, I kind of don't want to at the same time.

As a kid, I frequently got lumped into the group "handicapped." Now I am a realist, my vision gives me grief and I wouldn't want others to have it. If I could cure it and the cure had a good percent chance of working and wouldn't hurt me trying it, I'd do it.

So lumped into the group, I found there were nice people and there are not nice people with disabilities. Duh, groups of humans has every kind in it. Though, far more imperfect people have a "poor me" attitude than I like. That gets on my nerves.

I want to be around people who grab the world by the tail and go for it. I want to view the world and share my views and be admired and praised for that.

Perhaps I am not in control of the kind of people I will meet and just need to keep MY attitude and let other people have theirs. Now I feel a lot better. I am not in control so why lament that? Do what I can to encourage and admire others and not be the mean friend who finds fault with the lives of others.

Funny, I started this post with one thought and now I'm ending it with another.

Kind comments welcome.

Steam Heat

Controversy about a film doesn't automatically turn me off so when I heard "The Heat" had some objectionable scenes related to albinism I waited until I saw the film before commenting. Hollywood has a very bad track record with the portrayal of albinism and even constantly making off hand remarks about someone being so pale as to be "albino." It wears on you after a while.

Don't get me wrong, Hollywood screws up all kinds of things. Computers always make more noise and usually have way more blinky lights than in the real life. Just imagine what life would be like in a real ER with all those doctors screwing around, getting beat up and brain tumors? Okay, so I am not EXPECTING reality. I do expect some level of courtesy.

There are countless examples of albinism portrayed as bad, evil and villainous. Even when characters aren't identified as having albinism, the made up to look like us creates a climate of hostility. "Powder" was supposed to be a hero and martyr to his goodness, still, the whole mystic aspect created myths that set people with albinism apart.

I will only mention the film "Foul Play" for it's "albino" sharp shooter for the galling mockery of people with vision problems. "The Matrix" characters didn't seem to be called "albino," but I think that identifier was taken out. Whether it was out of concern, or maybe it just ended up on the cutting room floor. That does happen.

"The Heat" is a comedy about two female cops who end up working together. Sandra Bullock plays an ambitious FBI agent who gets sent to track down the leader of a drug ring in Boston. She meets up with Melissa McCarthy and together hey intimidate suspects and try to find the ring leader.

I like both these actresses but found neither of them funny in these roles. For me, it lacked all suspension of disbelief. Their back stories were devoid of depth or balance and they could have titled this Dumb and Dumbest as they bumbled through their police work.

Albinism came into play with a character as a DEA agent. Most people with albinism I know have poor eyesight. I know some have close to normal vision, but I've never heard of anyone having eyesight good enough to be in law enforcement. McCarthy's character berates the DEA agent for his pale skin and they exchange insults. It's all very grade school.

What bothers me most is the knowledge that someone knew of the controversy of characters with albinism and purposefully threw it on our face. Earlier in the movie Bullock's character channel surfs past both "Foul Play" and "The Matrix" scenes with characters who look like they had albinism. Sometimes doing something like this could be what they call "foreshadowing." Taking a seemingly random event earlier in a film to show some insight into future events. It's a nice technique when used as an enlightening purpose. In this case, it only served to show either the director or the writer, to be an even bigger asshole than their insulting characters.

Defamation and exploitation serves only to support a culture of bullying. I ask for balance. Treat all people as humans. We all have flaws, bad days or times we're rude for no reason. Fine. Show more happy healthy courageous people in whatever light they shine.

Avoid "The Heat" for it's lack of decent plot, poor character development and boring lack luster physical comedy. Even though the whole post is about albinism in film, that aspect of this film comes fairly far down on my list of dislikes. Stop it, it's not cool to create harassing environments for people. Not cool, Hollywood, very not cool.

Resurces on albinism in film. This is only a partial list:
http://albinism.org/popcult/film.htm
Internet Move Data Base to "The Heat":
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2404463/?ref_=nv_sr_1
National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation 
http://www.albinism.org/

Faith

I'm a science geek. I love thinking of things in terms of experiences, experimentation and evidence. This brought me to the conclusion that I doubt the existence of god as practiced in most religious faiths.

Though I haven't spent extensive time studying all tenants of major faiths, my casual examination leads me to atheism. I would adjust my thinking should a reliable source confirm a god like higher power.

I do see many things greater than myself. Things like group think, the ocean and nature in general leave me in awe of their great power. I find social connection to be amazing and it's my belief that biological connection may be behind intriguing studies on the power of prayer.

I'd like to single out the Christian faith for a few events that pushed me more toward atheism. Mainly because I have more contact with Christians.

I grew up loosely associated with the Mormon faith. My youth made it all seem so silly when it wasn't down right crazy. It didn't help that the crazy Mormon lady I lived with disobeyed the faith by drinking Coca Cola. She taught me that even though she demanded rigorous adherence to her ridiculous standards, she couldn't live up to her own set of values.

Later in high school, my friends talked some about their faith and I felt a little left out. Like there was something powerful in their connection to a power greater than themselves. I wondered what I was missing. I am afraid of "the faithful" because of the abuse I suffered.

I do respect other people who choose an organized faith path. So long as they let me alone to believe as I choose.

Still later, at holiday time, I often felt hypocritical because I didn't believe in the faith aspect. I heard another atheist speak of it being a social time of connection and gift giving. I felt a lot better after that. Though I do see some of the rushing around and worry a bit too much stress. I try and stay out of that.

While at the home of some relatives of my friend, I heard a Born Again Christian tell his children that there were dinosaurs on Noah's ark. It saddened me to see someone hold so tightly to their mythos that they fail to realize the power of their story.

This same father refused to take yoga for fear of being corrupted by the Indian mythos. I started to wonder why the power of "Jesus" didn't prevent this from happening? I've heard from other sources that "God" gives believers free will. Okay, I like free will, but what is their faith FOR if it doesn't give them the power to exercise without falling prey to a new faith?

My illusions of faith finally completely broke down after an online conversation with a devout Christian young lady. She desperately wanted to be in a relationship, but said she couldn't go out with men. She was so afraid the man would excite her into a sexual frenzy. Since that would be against "his plan," she refused to date anyone.

This floored me. Again, her belief didn't seem to comfort or guide her. It just kept her stuck. Clearly these people are not typical of all people's of faith. I know plenty of Christians who take and even teach yoga and plenty of deeply faithful young women who date without hopping into bed with the first person who smiles their direction. However, what they showed me was the lack of power in their "Jesus."

I started to feel the power of my own brain. If I don't want to sleep with a man, I wont. I don't happen to have any faith guiding me against it, so I view it as a choice. I can do what I think is in my physical  mental and emotional best interests.

I do understand that some may take offense at my commentary. Please understand that my conclusions are for me. If you find power and comfort in your faith, I have no interest in influencing your choice.

Kind and thoughtful comments welcome.

Getting to know you

(This is number 4 in a science fiction series I started. Here are the links to the previous ones if you wish to catch up. This is completely made up as I go and started on a suggestion from a chat. Comments welcome.)

1. Undercover Angel
2. Double Vision
3. Ya Gotta have Friends

  Georgia awoke to chimes that vibrated the whole house. Not loud, but low frequency so it would carry through the paper membrane homes the Chentry preferred.
  She leaped behind the "couch" she was sleeping on and tried to make herself small. Benhi scurried past   griping over his shoulder at her to "calm down, it's only my delivery."  She blinked a few times and tried to wake up but remained hidden.
   Benhi lowered down a platform out his door and pulled up his delivery. Once the platform rose to the same height as the floor, he flipped a switch and a force shield held it in place. He buzzed something to the delivery team and went about moving things off the "door."
  "Make yourself useful and come help me, Kapkah."
  Georgia glanced up from her hiding place and saw packages of various sizes. Most wrapped in the paper like substance the Chentry use, but some were square wooden crates.
  She moved out and began pushing things off the door plate. Benhi pointed here and there when he wanted something moved to a certain place. She huffed a couple times when something was very heavy and he came over and put anti grav discs on the side and things slid much easier.
  Once the pair put everything in order he asked her if she wanted to leave right away. He offered to open the door, but if she would stay a bit longer and help him a bit more, he would give her breakfast. She agreed to stay.
  This Chentry fascinated her. He asked what she wanted to do and treated her with respect. She glanced at him as they worked, trying to puzzle out his angle. Everybody has an angle. She'd learned that much in her short life.
  After they unpacked and sorted through what she could only guess was contraband, she started to work out that Benhi dealt in black market Chentry and human goods. No wonder he didn't turn her in. She had no status to turn him in either.
  He gave her some breakfast and sat nearby to talk. She ate more slowly than the night before. This time he gave her some guava nectar and she sipped it slowly. She knew the Chentry loved the drink but she'd only seen it once at the orphanage. Some of the other students intentionally spilled some so they could taste it while cleaning it up.
  "How long have you been on your own"" Benhi asked.
  Georgia looked down and fidgeted with her food trying not to answer too much. The night before he knew when she lied. She tried a bit of a sob story line to see if he would buy it. Told him she ran away from her "family," but he just glared at her.
  "If you are gonna work with me, Kapkah, I'm going to have to teach you how to lie," said Benhi with a chirpy laugh. She shot him a look of surprise and then realized her impertinence and fell to her knees in apology.
  "None of that, now, " he said gently. "Get up and let me have a good look at you." He motioned for her to lift her arms and asked her to raise her hair. She worried that he might be contemplating selling her into prostitution and she risked his wrath and told him she wouldn't do it.
  "You're too clever for that. What has it been, two years since you left the worker training orphanage? You have that look about you. You know how to behave and not to ask questions, but I need you to pass for upper class. I think I can teach you, if that sounds interesting?"
  Georgia didn't know what to think. She had questions of her own. Keeping her eyes averted, she shrugged.
  Benhi chirped a chuckle and went to his phone. He called up another Chentry and spoke so fast she couldn't catch a single word. He turned and looked at her and said a few more things and then hung up.
  "Tell me how you survived so long on the streets? I ordered you some new clothes and a portable shower unit. It will take a bit for those to arrive. We might as well get acquainted."
  "I don't know where to start," Georgia hedged. She wanted to keep her secrets. She was still reeling from being called clever. In school she often felt the sting of a whip for speaking too soon or figuring out how to do something without being instructed.
  "look, Kapkah, I trusted you enough to help me so far. I feel I've earned enough for you to trust that I mean you no harm. How about you start with your name?"
  Georgia took a deep breath and told him her first name. Then she confirmed the two years on the street. He invited her to sit down while they talked and after a few minutes she'd told him of her petty thefts of clothes, food and occasional shelter. He nodded and told her that he knew that there were quite a few underground humans scurrying about. He'd done a little business with a few and used them to run errands for him.
  He proposed a trade. He would help her with a reasonable status, so she wouldn't have to ever worry about being sent to forced labor. In exchange, she would work for him. She looked up at him when he asked, not told, but asked if she thought she could work with him. She held his gaze for longer than she thought proper and agreed.
  "Now you're learning, Kapkah!" he bellowed. He reached out to pat her on her back and slowed when she flinched. He only tapped her gently and tossed his head back in a smile.
  "Please, may I be addressed by my name from now on, "she asked.
  "Yes, my new friend, Georgia, " he said with a bow of respect.
  "Thank you, my new friend, Benhi, " She replied, returning the bow.

Stop! In the name of love!

Some of us with albinism avoid using the term "albino" because it was used as an insult. I have other reasons that include, if you have cancer, you don't call the person with cancer, cancero. I am more than a medical condition I have. Though some of my friends, with and without cancer, like the term cancero. They're just funny people and I let it slide.

Here's the deal. Bullying with words can leave deeper scars than physical bullying. I chat online. I'd say a good 50 to 70 percent of my Facebook friends are from chat groups. The Internet is rampant with verbal bullies. The anonymity and lack of consequences emboldens cruel minded resentful people.

While sitting and watching others chat, a causal acquaintance called someone else a "retard." I sat there trying to think of some response that would let the person know that was NOT okay with me. Honestly, I never came up with anything.

The very next day I saw someone else in a different chat room say that something at his work was "retarded." That time I spoke up. I just asked the person to use another word. He was a bit defensive, but he understood.

I've had debates with people about the "albino" comments. People tell me it's used as a medical term. I have used it and I will probably use it again in the future. I have a preference for NOT using it. I do correct medical professionals who use it, but I don't press it. I do consider someone who uses it once I asked them not to to be a bully.

Feel free to express dissatisfaction with things, but consider how your words may effect those around you. Don't give me that line of crap about political correctness. When you walk in someone's shoes, or ride in their wheelchair, then maybe you can comment about how tough it is for you to find a better word to use.

STOP BULLYING.

Doctor, Doctor!

Doctor, doctor, gimme the news! Well the week came and went and no call about the biopsy. BOO. I  guess the results didn't come in on his regular office hours. I bet I wont hear from him until Tuesday, like last time.

I waited until Thursday to take my shower. I wanted to be able to call the surgeon's nurse if we saw anything of concern. We didn't. It took a whole hour to wash, dry, get re bandaged. I scrubbed most of the beta-dine off, but there are still some patches here and there. Scars look fine and are healing well.

Good thing Murry is clever because I was right and the bandages they gave me were far too small. He had to engineer a way to cover both spots. Though only the wide one on my lower leg required duct tape. There's a lot of stitches in both. I figure they're going to hurt like an SOB coming out. All kinds of scab formed around them. Ah well.

After my shower, I went off to learn how to exercise at Curves. The very nice owner showed me all the various machines and I tried nearly all of them. One I couldn't do because either my leg or my arm wouldn't fit. I forget which it was. A couple more I chose not to try because I thought it would be rough on my wounds. I was there 45 minutes and feel it was a good workout. I don't really like the loud beat in the music but whatever. I can deal with it for a few mins.

I didn't get my heart rate up very high but I was taking it very easy. It'll be a nice compliment to Tai Chi. I'm going back Monday or Tuesday and a couple more times over the week.

Murry started a new job and he's been gone weekend days. Friday he went in to his old job so he had a REALLY long day. He's doing good and I'm proud of him. I feel a little abandoned but I'm not blaming him. With Kmart closing, he needs another job. He also got Kmart to give him flexibility so he can take me places I need to go.

I've got another post mostly written, I just need to proof it good. I'll post it soon. Comment if you like.

Luck be a Lady Tonight

Bright and early Monday morning I crawled out of bed, put on my rather nice jammies with the striped Capri pants and wandered off to the hospital. No sign of the sun, but the neighbor's rooster crowed his little confused head off. I don't like this new guy, he needs to learn to shut up when it's dark.

I asked them to put my name spelled phonetically on my wrist tag. So if they were trying to talk to me, they would use a name I recognized. Donay seems to work the best. For a time I was using a nickname of Didi, but I abandoned that long ago. Old roomie and some friends from back in that day still call me Didi once in a while. And if I am ordering I use it at a restaurant  It's annoying to have a strange name and I hated it when I was a kid. I love it (and my white hair) now though. 

So my group of "short stay" denizens had to wait for a couple minutes for the staff to come get us. To keep me calm I told Murry all my cat stories. I actually started it in the car on the way there. We saw a cat scamper across the road and that reminded me of my old rommie's cat Fuzzy. His sister found her on the road. She was soo tiny.. and had some bald spots and so he ironically named her Fuzzy. 

I wont go into all my stories here. I have a number of them as cats is funny ;) (bad grammar intentional al a Larry the Cable Guy. He says "I don't care who you are, but farts is funny."  and I agree! so is cats. ) So it seemed like a long wait, but eventually they came and herded us into the unit.

They put me at bed #7 woo. The curtain featured a beach scene with palm trees and though I couldn't see them, Murry described the two pictures on the wall as boats on water at a distance. One had three boats and I don't remember about the other. 

Big scary operations scare me so my pressure was high and it never really came down. A couple times the machine beeped at me. They had a little trouble putting my IV in my right hand, surgery was on the left side, so we didn't want to start on that side. Unfortunately they couldn't find a vein so left it was. 

The nurse anesthetist Mr. Garcia spoke to me briefly. He did tell me his first name, but it was unusual so it didn't stick. The first nurse started with Diana, then after a while Colleen and then Leila. 

First place I needed to go was up to radiology so they could inject a dye to find the lymph nodes. A nice radiology tech named Gerald came and got me. Once up there, he helped e out of my bed and put me on the COOOLD table. It warmed up after a bit though. He chatted with me while he injected four small needle pricks around where the area where the lump biopsy was taken last month. 

My surgeon came in and looked at the scan and the leg and put his initials so we made sure the correct left leg got the operation. He just put his hand on my good leg and talked nice to me. He definitely has a way better bedside manner inside the hospital. The radiology tech told me that my surgeon has a really good eye and can find lymph nodes without super fancy scans, but he gave him good ones anyway. It's nice to hear good things about a guy you barely know who's gonna be cutting you open. 

They were putting fluids through my IV and so after laying there in Radiology for 45 mins I had to pee. I nearly got all tangled up trying to get out of the bathroom, but I managed. Back down at bed #7 I talked to Murry for a bit and they gave me some medicine that helps keep you calm and I remember them wheeling me out of the alcove and then I was back and groggy. Thems some GOOD knock out drugs. 

I went under general anesthesia so they put a tube down your thought. This unnatural act gives you a sore throat. They gave me some ice chips and after a few minutes asked me what kind of juice I wanted with a list of choices. I picked Grape or Apple, whichever you see first. I got grape. It was like the best juice ever. Probably I was still high from the medicines. 

They talked to me about cleaning myself on Wednesday  (today) but I really wasn't with it enough to remember. I'm going to call the surgeon's nurse to ask her how to do it. They gave me a bag of bandages and antibiotic cream. The surgeon came by and again squeezed my leg and talked nice. He prescribed a pain pill and an oral antibiotic. 

I tried to tell them that I didn't think I needed a pain pill but they kept telling me not to be brave. I really don't feel Tylenol works on me and that's what was part of the pill I got. My pressure had one reading where the diastolic was below 100 so they took out my IV and let me get dressed. It's much easier going pee without battling an IV stand too. It hurt a little but not bad at that point. I took a lap around the nurses station and was feeling fine so I did another. I stopped and rested standing up for a bit then did a third lap.

The nurse Leila went to get me a wheel chair for discharge and she was just driving up when I was coming back from the third lap. She said she doesn't usually have to chase people down to discharge them. I pawed in my bag for my sun glasses and got them on just before it got too bright. 

We parked just outside the entrance so Leila wheeled us right out to the car. She wished me well we went off to get my meds from the pharmacy. I thought a Slurpee would help my throat so I told Murry I wanted one after my pills. 

My pharmacy has a walk up window so we parked near that and I wandered over and told them my name. They said it would be five mins so I walked the length of the front of their building. I felt a little loopy but not so I would fall. Murry went off to the dollar store across the parking lot and got some candy. 

When I got back to the window, there was another customer there and she was taking a while. So I sat down. I didn't care that I was in jammies and a robe. I'm not vain about being in public in imperfect condition. I don't think anyone even cared. 

So I got my meds then off for Slurpee! I stayed in the car and chatted with a 711 employee on her break. I asked her if she knew Lark, who works there and told her Lark used to work for me. She looked about 12 but said she'd been there almost three years and has a baby of her own. I think she might have mentioned her name but I don't remember it. 

Once home, Murry made me a nice bowl of chicken soup. I thought when I started it, I would only eat half, but my hunger grew and I scarfed the whole thing. A couple hours after that, Mur made me two tacos. I thought well maybe I am over doing it, but I was fine and it really felt good to eat. Later that night, I had a small bowl of cereal with my antibiotics. 

I didn't even try the pain meds. Yesterday, Tuesday, I had some pain that persisted for more than a few seconds so I took some Ibuprofen. Most of the pain up to that point was like.. being slapped on a sunburn. Not a tap or a bump.. but slapped. It usually went away as quick, and it usually happened while I was getting up or sitting down. This morning I took another couple Ibuprofen. 

I forget what medicine but one of them turned my pee a beautiful azure blue. The pre-op nurse told me this would happen and it tickled me to see it. It only lasted 24 hours, though. Then my poop had a bit of a blue hue to it. Exciting toilet time ;)

They gave me some glycerin soap so I washed off some of the beta dine around my leg. I was very careful not to get the bandages wet. Man that stuff is sticky and it took some effort to get myself clean. There's more and it's gonna be a chore to get myself washed and re bandaged today. 

So that's what happened to me this week. What's your life been like? ;) I find out sometime today or tomorrow if there are signs of spreading. I'll meet with an oncologist regardless. Might not be anything to do though. Melanoma isn't really a cancer they have "great" treatments with. They cut it off and take it out, but if they don't have anything large enough to see on a scan, there's nothing much they can do. And they're so different from person to person. It's a good sign that the tests haven't shown any masses to this point.

Thursday I am going to an exercise gym and getting on their program. I am going to take it SUPER easy. Then I have a weight loss group meeting in the evening. Lots of goings on. I'm feeling emotionally great and physically okie dokie. 

Oops I did it again

Pre-op consultation day went okay. I talked to a very nice nurse lady named Karen and she went over procedures and had me sign some things. Will I take blood products, yes and some others I don't remember.

My blood pressure was high, but she used a different cuff and it was closer to normal. She wrote down what size cuff to use and hopefully it'll be fine Monday. I have severe white coat (really just STRESS) pressure spikes. It's been fine in the regular doctor's office. She got me all used to getting it taken by having me go in and test it three times a week. I bet if my reg doc's nurse Pam took it, I'd be close to normal.

So Thursday night, I went to my first weight loss group meeting and instead of the regular meeting, they were having a pot luck. I met some people, asked some questions and ate their food. It was nice to have my first meeting be so casual. I feel I can hang out with these folks well enough so I think I will try and go with this group.

I have to go to these meetings to get a gym membership for free. They had some pretty tasty and mostly healthy food. Someone made an apple pie with Splenda that tasted like apple pie. They had a Hawaiian theme so they gave us those flower necklaces called leis. I told someone that on chat and they didn't know the word was spelled lei. Funny spelling.

When I came home I hung the lei up with my jacket. When I went to grab it this morning I didn't realize I grabbed the lei too. When I went to take off the jacket it fell down. I decided to put it on.

Okay, so evidently I do cosplay for medical tests! ;) Maybe it was a subconscious on purpose thing. I might bring it with me to the operation. I know they wont let me wear it during any procedures, but at least I can have it on the way in and out. Oh, wait, I just remembered, no jewelry. Dammit. ;)

Scared, but I'll get through it. Remember, tell me a joke and make me laugh. Funny pictures welcome! Post a comment, but after Monday I might not get to it for a day or two.

Insensitive

Why are some people just assholes? Yeah, I get it, I've been online and on the Internet for years and I get that the anonymity gives some people permission to say things they wouldn't dream of saying to someone's face, but what's with the jerkness in the deep hearts of some people?

I so wonder about how people feel the need to tear down and hurt, just because they can? Who are they to question someone's grief or coping mechanism? What makes them think they could handle HALF what the other person is going through?

It's not a question of manners. There's a lot of netiquette. Like DON'T TYPE IN ALL CAPS. It's called shouting. If you want to get to know someone, talk to them, asking age, sex, location will turn people off. You can find way more out a person by asking about their hobbies or favorite TV show.

Maybe it's a shitty plan to gripe about other people, maybe I'm doing exactly what I dislike. Typical of me, judging others that which I abhor in myself. ;)

I dunno. Be NICE dammit. Just try. Let someone else have their feelings and talk about their problems and listen patently. Direct their energy toward a solution, but you're not in charge of that either. Some horses don't want your water. So what? Put water out anyway.

Love people for whatever place they are. I love my mother, but that doesn't mean I want to talk to her. I wish her peace and occasionally I try and sort out my feelings by talking about her.

I guess that makes me think of her as being kind of like one of those insensitives  Having no concept of how much people like her create their own life. Flat out rudeness is almost like breathing to them.

How SAD and painful to watch.

Okay, I am off to do stuff.. and to try and be nice to someone jsut because I want to. ;)

Slavery: Part II

I started writing this a while back and I've just been putting off posting because I wanted to go through some fact checking. The other day, I read a black man posting how president Obama and his wife are racist and hate white people. He didn't give any examples, he just stated it like "it's obvious." They're also communists, according to this guy. Truly these things are simply political rhetoric to appeal to a right wing base. Much of it would be directed at any white democrat. Claims of "we must respect the presidency" during the Bush era, seemed to be only for Republicans.


This whole idea of slavery started to occur to me after seeing news reports of the disabled being paid subliminum wage and mass casualty fires and building collapses in places like Bangladesh. Garment workers toil long hours under terrible conditions for low pay. It struck me and I read someone else suggest this just moved slavery from our vision. "Fiddledeedee, I'll think about that tomorrow!"

African Americans continue to suffer the effects of enslavement even today. I knew that slavery didn't end with the civil war. It changed to mass incarceration of people of color coupled with segregation and culminated with the drug wars began in the 1980's.

In his book, Slavery by another name : the re-enslavement of Black people in America from the Civil War to World War II, author Douglas Blackmon (yeah, great name huh? He's white too!) tells of how the south denied former slaves their liberty. Using court documents and historical letters, Blackmon describes a post civil war south that continued forced labor by means of incarceration. Thousands of men and women, ill equipped for a free life, got duped into jail and then "sold" to companies as prison labor. 

White men would stop healthy looking young black men and charge them with vagrancy or some other petty crime. Once jailed, other white men would prosecute, judge and sentence them to a fine these people could not pay. They would then be required to perform forced labor until their fine was paid off. Jailers would tack on fees for room and board, growing a six month "sentence" to an incarceration term of years. All for basically "walking down the street while black." 

The prison documents often failed to include what crimes a person was convicted of or the term of their sentences. They were just cogs in the machine. If they broke, the system would just find a replacement. 

Blackmon goes on to say this treatment made slavery look kind in comparison. As slaves, people had monetary value as livestock. Though this is demoralizing, it means there's less incentive to injure or starve your assets. Labeling prisoners as "bad" gave those jailing black people an excuse to abuse them. 

These practices got the attention of the federal government in the early 20th century and several white men were prosecuted and fined. Some were jailed, but many refused to pay. Since the people enforcing such fines were the very people who jailed the prisoners in the first place, hardly any whites suffered any punishment at all.

With the advent of mechanization of labor and after World War II, blacks began to move away from the harsh treatment from southern states. These practices ebbed. Segregation began to repress people of color. Through legal battles and legislation, slowly blacks gained standing as fully engaged citizens of the United States. Still, few white men abusers and oppressors suffered any consequences. 

Imagine watching a white man hurting your friends and neighbors and knowing that he'll get very little punishment. Imagine having your whole community accused of being "uppity" just for asking for your turn at opportunity. Might you not reason there's a high  chance of you going to jail on a bogus trumped up charge and might you decide that if you are going to jail, you might as well live it up and do a crime? I'm very law abiding and I can imagine it.

In The new Jim Crow, Michelle Alexander suggests that drug laws and unfair sentences created from the drug wars of the 1980s continue the legacy of repression of the African American community. Different rules for powder and crack cocaine sale along with mandatory sentence differences keep more blacks in prison. Many states also ban felons from voting. 

In the 21st century, of all men in their early thirties, African-Americans are more than twice as likely to have a prison record and serve longer than whites. These sentences run roughly 10 percent longer than whites jailed for the same crime. According to the 2000 US Census, 2.2 million blacks enrolled in college compared to the Bureau of Justice figure of 610 thousand black inmates.

According to the FBI's Uniform Crime Report database, in 2010 58 percent of hate crime offenders were white (including latinos), 18 percent were black, 8.9 percent were multi-racial and 1 percent  Native Americans.The report states that among hate crime offenses motivated by race, 70 percent were composed of anti-black bias, while 17.7 percent were of anti-white bias, and 5 percent were of anti-Asian or Pacific Islander bias.

Prisons charge inmates more for toiletries and other personal items and the "store" has a monopoly on their business. Though the reasons for this involve many legitimate concerns, it just pushes more financial burden onto an already impoverished population. 

So you're charged more for some basic needs and then paid far below minim wage for your work. In a federal prison labor program called UNICOR inmates make between .23 and $1.15 per hour. In fiscal year 2008, UNICOR employed 21,836 inmates: 17 percent of eligible inmates held in federal prisons. The company generated $765 million in sales. Of these revenues, 74 percent went toward the purchase of raw material and equipment; 20 percent went to staff salaries; 6 percent went to inmate salaries.

States have similar programs. Prisoners with a financial obligation to pay for their crimes are required to pay 50 percent of their wages to reimburse victims. Working while in jail does benefit inmates by giving them skills and it alleviates the boredom. 

Shouldn't prison industries be subject to the same rules as non prison employers? There's a mechanism for garnishment outside of jail. How can it be fair to anyone inside or outside the system to pay people less? Victims would get paid sooner, prisoners would no longer be treated as slave labor, outside contractors wold be able to compete fairly on labor and it would remove the incentive to keep skilled workers jailed. 

People who do bad things need to be taught to stop doing those bad things. But what we have now, are warehouses for slaves. For half the cost, drug treatment and life skill training centers could replace most non violent offender rolls. The echoes of slavery persist because few people ever consider the reasons for over representation of ethnic minorities in prison. Most of us just think, bad people go to jail. Good people avoid it. 

Even people in the black and Latino community blame things like drugs for the problem. They may form groups that try and change minimum mandatory sentencing or efforts to end prison overcrowding. All valuable concerns, but these groups fail to realize how much bigotry still drives the jail system. This system that should have been dismantled 150 years ago persists in repression of minorities. 

How about we do as I suggested above? We start shifting toward parity in incarceration and creating cheaper true rehab for drugs and life skills? Baltimore, Maryland is doing it with juveniles. They have conflict resolution programs where they bring together all parties to a conflict and everyone works toward a solution. We can be a better country and live Dr. King's dream. 

Work it out

I need the exercise, but since I have surgery on September 9, I'm going to take the month off from Tai Chi. Today will be my last bending stretching and moving around organized by a nice long haired lady. Or her equally nice, when he doesn't use me as a sparring dummy, long haired husband.

My state funded health plan has weight loss program that includes exercise. I have to go to an orientation, but that doesn't start until four days before my surgery. I selected one I hope will let me do some work while recuperating 

I don't know how down and out I'm going to be. None of the doctors can tell me until they open me up and see how easy their cutting is going to be.

Went to the dermatologist and he said there are no more skin issues to worry over. He said I should be checked as regularly as twice a year. He thinks I'm the only person with albinism in the area. It's possible. We're like 1 in 20,000 in the population. There's about 65,000 in the county. Could be a couple more like me lurking around.

Here's the timeline:

Sometime in June I noticed the spot on my leg turned into a lump and I called up and get an appointment to have my doctor looked at it. She sent me to a surgeon to have it removed.
July, the surgeon scheduled the lump for removal.
July toward the end, Lump removal surgery, biopsy sent. The injection of numbing agent hurt, but the surgery didn't.
July 31, Surgeon called to tell me it was cancer and scheduled a CAT scan
August 7, Donning my cat ears my friend Alison made for me (yay Ali)  I went off for my test. I posted about it with a picture here" What's new PussyCAT On the same day, they removed the stitches from the surgery. My skin grew in well which unfortunately made taking the stitches out painful.
August 12, Surgeon shows me the CAT scan with some lumpy bits near my uterus and around my breasts. He thinks it's nothing but he has me get some exams anyway. We schedule a mammogram and gynecological exams.
August 16, Gynecologic tells me the mass is just a fibroid like we thought
August 18, Mammogram tests reveals no lumps and nothing of concern. It was way easier than I expected and not painful  Though I have large breasts, perhaps a woman (or man) with smaller pectoral area would find it painful. One of the scans is a little awkward, but it didn't hurt.
August 28, full body dermatology exam finds nothing of concern.
PENDING:
August 29, I see my regular doctor to clear me for lymph node biopsy.
September 6, Pre-operative consultation with the nursing staff and anesthesiology.
September 9, Lymph node removal and more skin removed around the area of the lump.

I don't have any information on what happens after that. I know I will go home that day.

Writing this all down tired me out. Quite a stressy ordeal. I am confident the cancer got taken care of the first time, but it not, we'll decide what to do from there.

Remember, make me laugh. I know you're sorry and yes I am amazing and strong. You can just be silly.. that's the best thing you can do for me ;) Kind and silly.

Give it away NOW

A friend of mine told me about a couple posts on charitable organizations and it got me to thinking about efficiency. Making the most of my spending and actions interests me a great deal. Not only do I like a bargain, I like a bargain on what lasts.

Each post told stories of giving and asked the question if the program was the most effective use of the giving dollar. See them here;
Do you cause more harm than good by giving Tom's Shoes to the poor? 
Efficient Charity: Do Unto Others

They both ask the question of if the programs created to help people use the money wisely. Is it wiser to clean up places where children walk barefoot or give them shoes? Is it wiser to provide mosquito netting for more people or cure malaria in fewer people? Maybe the question is far more complicated.

A few years ago I saw a charitable giving chart of dollars spent on different categories  It showed that charities related to animal welfare garnered more than those for children. I remarked on this and some friends suggested that animals are completely defenseless. Where as children at least had someone to speak for them and could to some extent speak for themselves.

Seems to me people flat out just like animals more than they like people. And probably for the very reason that they don't "feel" as needy. Kind of ironic that the thing that gets them more charitable contributions is the thing that says they don't need it as much as the kids do. Lets face it, kids make noise, cry and complain sometimes in ways we don't expect. Animals needs tend to easier to both ignore and fulfill. Though children need food, stability and comfort just like dogs, what they might ask for is "go away!" or "take me to the mall!"

With regard to charitable work, I wonder if people from outside a need can ever truly sort out how to solve it. There is something to be said for information and perspective, but providing those along with a charitable gift may be the most effective method for problem solving.

Does the poverty charity help people out of poverty or at least help people take steps toward that goal? Does the cancer charity provide funds for research that have good outcomes? Does an organization's goals match what outcomes they are looking to accomplish?

A few posts back I was objecting to Goodwill Industries for paying their managers high salaries while paying disabled individuals sometimes far below minimum wage. Honestly, I don't care what the managers make if they're helping a high number of people. Are they getting the most effective use out of their contributions. I still don't think the disabled are getting the best benefit from Goodwill, but I stopped tying it to what the managers make.

Take a moment the next time you do something charitable. Consider  the whole of the impact. Occasionally ask the question of the effectiveness of your donation. I'm not asking you to never buy Tom's Shoes or forget about donating anywhere. Just sometimes ask. If we all ask, sometimes, we might get to where more gets done.

I donate to and buy mainly at Hospice Thrift store and the Habitat for Humanity Restore. I've heard good things about both and I like the bootstrap build your own idea with Habitat. I like the cooperative  idea. I'd like to see some numbers on effectiveness and I plan to talk to them about it later this week.

What about you? Where do you spend your money, donate your goods or spend your time?

Ya Gotta have Friends.

(Writing  seems to help calm me down so here's a bit more on our story. Ifiction will figure out a title after a few more installments. I am totally making this up as I go. I have a couple ideas, but they're vague and undefined. Feel free to comment. ) Catch up on the story here: 

1. Undercover Angel

2. Double Vision

  

  "Come out of there! I can hear you breathing, you beige tinted bag of goo!" 

  Georgia held her breath and tried to shrink inside herself. If she could just be invisible for a minute, he'd go away and she could eat. The alley looked deserted and closed up for the night, but naturally  a Chentry lurked down there. Just her luck. 

  "Bastards act like they are god's gift to humanity." Thought Georgia. In the 127 years since their first contact, the Chentry paraded around and took over every position of authority. Unworthy, imperfect natives lost what little place they had built. Now they worked for their benevolent overlords. Though humans still have the illusion of freedom. 

  If she were caught, she would be sent back to the orphanage for training. The idea of back breaking mining camps, coppa crop field work or cleaner duties never appealed to Georgia. She had a fertile and active mind but only humans from a good family got a decent education. So she escaped. 

  After lights out, and most of her fellow captors were asleep, she made her way to her cache of food, wire cutters and a small digging tool she hid in a bin near the fence. The lump of pillows and covered hole kept her exit secret until morning. Before anyone knew she was even gone, she was dozing behind a human grocery market on the outskirts of a nearby town. 

  The Chentry kept the streets safe and clean enough to appear survivable, but she soon learned how much she had to hustle to get by. For two years, she learned how to eat, wear and sleep in the cast offs of her betters. And she knew everyone was better than her. 

  She figured out how to fake a persona for the daytime. By accident someone mistook her for a girl from Cherry Hill. The distant acquaintance hadn't seen the girl in a long time and wanted to catch up. At lunch, Georgia tried not to scarf the meal as she pretended a life from stories she read about in scraps of tossed magazines. Nothing extravagant, just real enough to seem interesting. 

  After that, she used the name Gilda Menger whenever anyone challenged her. If you walk confident and with purpose, most people and even most Chentry, ignored you. 

  At night, everything changed. Chentry preferred to do their business when they weren't blinded by the sun.

  The Chentry down the alley came closer to where she pressed herself flat against the brick wall. He peered around the dumpster and she could see him craning his spindly neck, his triangular shaped head swiveling, searching from side to side. He glowed pale green against the darkness. His black marble eyes blinking as he scanned the surroundings. 

  When he started to move off, Georgia carefully let out her breath. The Chentry whipped around and caught her by the collar. "There you are you little mouse!" At first, Georgia thought he was going to eat her. They didn't eat human adults, that she knew of, but they could be cruel if they were in a mood. 

  He set her down and looked her up and down. "you're too small to be out this time of night." 

  "I lost my notebook and I needed it for lessons. I didn't think anyone would mind if I just picked it up." she bluffed. 

  The Chentry looked behind where she tossed her bread when he caught her. He growled a bit and glowered down at her. "Not the best lying beigy I've met, but not the worst. Come on, I've got some things you can eat. " 

  Georgia contemplated running when they got to the edge of the alley, but he put out his arm and told her to wait. He was the closest thing she has to a friend out at this time of night. She nodded and let him lead her. Another Chentry appeared around the corner and the one in front of her waved him off. "Not tonight, Jaho. I have to feed this kapkah, I'll catch you another time." 

  The other glared at Georgia, but just shrugged and went back the way he came. Georgia wondered why he spoke in Standard so she could understand. Maybe he didn't want me to be afraid of the other Chentry. That seems odd. She knew some Chentry lingo. Kapkah, for instance was slime eater. 

  It makes sense that Chentry homes resemble wasp nests. It reveals their insect like nature. He climbed up the entrance and let a rope ladder down for her. He's had humans in here before. The small rounded main room made from human hand sized rough hexagon cells. One section featured a flat bench with some kind of grassy covering. Definitely made for people. He waved his hand toward it and she sat down. 

  Several of the closed sells glowed with a warm light. The Chentry rustled inside a cupboard of sorts and brought out some cheese, an apple and some kind of fungus. "I'm Benhi, " shared the Chentry. "What do they call you, kapkah?" 

  Georgia took a bite of the apple and sniffed the fungus. She used the time to consider what to tell him. Her lie could be checked too easy under these circumstances, but the truth would send her back to slavery. She had never encountered anyone, not even a human who talked to her as a person. She didn't know what to think. And he knew she was lying in the alley. 

  He observed her dilemma and chuckled. "It doesn't matter right now. You can keep it to yourself. I'm not going to turn you in to anyone. Though, I don't know what I'm going to do with you either. It's not exactly safe out there for orphans, but I bet you know how to handle yourself. '

  She cocked her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. She carefully chewed her cheese and tried to work out what this game was. He waved his hand to the open door. "It's late, I'll decide what kind of offer I will make in the morning. Sleep there, if you want. Or leave if you want. I"m going upstairs to signal Jaho and see if I can salvage that deal you screwed up." 

  Georgia couldn't help the flash of fear that came across her face. She didn't want the Chentry angry with her. "Oh relax, you, I know you didn't meant to do anything. Jaho's a REAL kapkah, I'm only working with him because he's a neighbor podmate. I'd just as soon work with a dung merchant!" 

  Before he leaped upstairs the Chentry tossed his head back in their equivalent of a smile. Georgia quickly finished her meal and headed for the door. Just as she looked down she caught herself. What is this all about, she thought. Might it be safer to sleep here for a few hours. She could always leave before he came down. 

  Georgia looked back longingly at the bench. She hadn't slept or even sat on anything so comfortable in her life. After a few seconds of hand wringing she went back and curled up. Just a couple of hours and then she'd go. 

(So now we know where she met Benhi, now I just have to find out how to tie these together. ) 

Do that to me one more time..

Oh my fucking god. Sorry for the language, but it's where I am at. I cannot believe I didn't see it before today. I made the SAME MISTAKE! I know that life is full of missteps, fumbles and falters; I just try and not repeat the error.

Evidently my psyche has other plans. 

Let me draw you the picture of my life the first time I made this mistake. My ex and I had been married three years when we had a terrible fight. It was the weekend of our third anniversary in fact. We went on a trip from Los Angeles to San Diego. He had a pager on his hip and he got a message from my best friend. 

I was jealous of them working together. I teased them about their closeness but I was genuinely angry and bothered by it. I knew they were getting closer and I knew they were going to end up together. I think now that I didn't want to stop it. I think now that I wanted out, because as I was gaining my independence from him, I was starting to think he wasn't enough of a man for me. 

We started a business together seven years before this. We weren't making bushels of money, but I loved how we built a nice base of regular customers and relationships with suppliers. I didn't think I'd done much, but once I was outside of it, I realized I did two thirds of the work. 

So my ex and I had a fight after he called her back and just chatted with her while I stood by. This was back when cell phones were rare and so I stood outside the payphone watching his body language as he romanced my best friend. I griped at him through dinner and went to bed angry. In the morning I cried while we showered together and he was trying to romance me too. 

We went on to the San Diego Wild Animal Park and as we walked around, I knew my marriage was over. He clung to me, but I knew that he didn't love me, he just didn't like letting go.

We denied it all and when we got back home, the stress put me into a deep sleep. He woke me and wanted to go have dinner. He said the most amazing thing. He said "Nancy wants to eat." That was her name.. my "best friend" who he was having an emotional if not a physical affair with... Nancy. 

I screamed for him to leave me alone. I did scream "go sleep with her, you want to anyway." Then I called my other friend Carol and she came and got me and I spent the night at her house. Hours of crying and tossing and turning restlessly. 

Carol took me home the next day. My ex wasn't home, he had some business to do and so I waited. He was shocked to see me. He thought I had left for good. I said no. I was so sad and hurt, but I wanted to stay married. Or I thought I did. I thought I was the cause of all our problems. I thought I wasn't a good enough lover and that's what made him look for someone outside our marriage.

So we went out to dinner so we could talk and I wouldn't get overly emotional. This was my idea, because if I'm just crying and carrying on, nothing gets worked out. But I keep myself in check if I'm in public. Mostly. 

So this song came over the radio in the restaurant. "Who's Sorry Now"  sung by Andy Gibb and Barbara Streisand. The lines that hit me; 

"What, what kind of fool Tears it apart

Leaving me pain and sorrow ...
I only apologize
For being as they say, the last to know
It has to show
When someone is in your eyes "

So I sat in that restaurant and quietly wept as I realized the words were true. I think I said, "Oh my god, you slept with Nancy. " I think he said "you told me to. " Still, I should have decided to divorce him, but I didn't. 

For three days we were in dire relationship negotiations. I made him sleep on the couch and we put off business dealings while we figured out what to do. On the third day he came to me while I was getting ready for my regular therapy session and demanded he be let back in my bed to sleep. When I said no, he defiantly said that if I wouldn't do that, he might as well go sleep with Nancy. 

I consider that my best worst day. Finally, he said something that I couldn't blame myself for. It was the last straw. He packed some belongings and left. 

I found a lawyer through an online friend and made an appointment. I was out of a job and a marriage. I failed to realize that I did so much work in the business. All the planning, growing and directing resource skills were in my basket. He was a wonderful technician and contributed that skill well, but I made it work. My two thirds to his one third.  

I told him I wanted paid for my half of the business and he agreed. He took a year to destroy the business. Maybe he did it on purpose, maybe just lacked competence, I can't really say which is true. I got an income for a while, but he called me up one day and asked me to pay for his bankruptcy. He showed me all the debts and I noted that he had increased them by $50,000. I had no debts of my own and a small amount of savings and I'd be damned if I was going to pay for half his mess. 

So I lived with really messed up credit for a while. My divorce became final and I went back to school. 

In hindsight, I realized that I should have kept the business and hired some technical people to do the work. I simply didn't know at the time what my skills were. I thought he was the business. I was wrong and I failed to learn a valuable lesson. 

When Murry and I moved to Oregon, we wanted to start a business. We're a much different couple and I'm a much different person. I accept blame when it's mine, but I don't put up with anyone trying to push it on me. Never again. 

We started our business from the ashes of someone else's failure. I thought we could make a go, because the owner before them had a nice business. We hired two people to start who were far more experienced in retail than I. We let them run the day to day operations for the first two years. I started keeping tighter rein on operations when we weren't making enough to cover expenses.

Advisers told us that it would take three years to get to profitability so Murry and I just kept going, but we were really struggling. Our two main employees were often at odds with each other. It got to the point where our accountant was suggesting we get rid of one of them. I didn't know what to to do. One of them came to me and offered to be laid off. I took her up on her offer. 

I saw the other employee as a better fit and I indirectly chose him. I think that was my biggest mistake and one that I repeated from my first business. 

I'm posting this on a different day from my regular Monday, Wednesday and Friday schedule. I thought it was valuable enough to post it as soon as I finished writing it. Comments welcome. 

I failed to see the value of vision, management, subtler customer service and reliability. Plus I created a monster in the person I chose.  It took eight months for that monster to grow big enough to destroy the previous two years, but once he started raging, there was no stopping him. 

So both my businesses failed for the same reason. I overvalued the technical aspects of enterprise and undervalued the more subtle leadership skills. 

I'm most ashamed that I didn't learn from my first mistake. That's not to beat myself up, that's to remind myself to get REALLY clear when I do things in the future! 

It occurs to me that this post is a little disjointed  It's about my epiphany of realizing I made the same mistake, so why is there relationship stuff at the beginning? I don't entirely know. I just feel the need to tell the story. 

Cat Scratch Fever

My CAT scan did now show any masses considered cancerous. My surgeon wants to take out some lymph nodes near where the lump was to make sure there's no spreading of the melanoma. I'm a little annoyed to have to have major surgery, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry. He also has to excise the wound and take more skin around where he took the lump out.

He sent me for an EKG and blood work for the surgery. I like the EKG, no sticky pokey, just tapey machinie noises. Though the blood work and pee in a cup was fine. They must train people really well, neither of them hurt at all. Come to think of it, neither did the CAT scan IV tech.

The scan did reveal an enlarged liver and a mass near my uterus. I'm set for a mammogram and a gynecological exam Friday and Monday. The mass is likely fibroid tumors. I haven't had a period in at least 2 years, I thought it was just menopause but that may be why. I'm told it would have lit up if it had been cancerous.

I know that most doctors are arrogant. Murry says they're trained that way in western medicine. I guess maybe it's the make bold decisions and stick to them and leave the doubt aside. Surgeons are known to have extra assholey arrogance too. Mine sure does. I get it and I don't really have to like him. He's competent at his work. He could be trained to at least feign compassion.

Fine, be blunt, but be confident you can help me make changes. "Lets see what we can do with where you are at NOW and then go from there to help with your overall health. " Like what would it hurt to be supportive and move off from here? I KNOW I'm fat. Treat me like it's a medical, emotional and lifestyle issue. Don't stand there and judge me "bad" because I'm not healthy.

Okay, rant over. I have confidence all this will be done and over soon. Peace.

Leave a comment, I'm feeling like I am typing in the dark. ;)

Bad Bad Leroy Brown

I'm a bad blogger. I apologize for not posting Friday and this being a short post today. I did start writing something I was just getting bogged down in the details and still haven't finished it. Also, I wont get my scan rusults until Tuesday and if I remember, I'll post. If not, it'll be Wednesday.

I'm feeling down and pressured about life. Disintegration of business taking it's toll. Plus the medical issues.

Someone posted on Facebook, "stressed is desserts backward." ;) That gave me a chuckle. I've been watching a comedy show hosted by John Oliver, the guy hosting the Daily Show for Jon Stewart. Couple really funny older bits that helped a lot. Apparently there are four seasons. Woo.

Okay, that's it for this light post. I'll post the deep long winded post another day.