taking my life in my hands

In telling this story the other day, I realized I should post it for posterity.

The story of the time I went skydiving.

A group of people that my sister worked with organized a skydiving trip. Sis and I signed up. A couple of our cousins are experienced skydivers, and they quite highly recommended the venture.

We showed up to the field (Skydive Tecumseh!) to start our training. We paid $120 for a six-hour class that would end with a static line jump, none of that wussy tandem crap for us.

The next eight hours consisted of the jump instructor telling us WE WERE GOING TO DIE. He explained to us all of the things that could go wrong. He recalled the tale about the girl who was found dead on the ground with her hands secured around her chute straps, having pulled on them instead of the backup parachute handle when her main chute failed. He had us practice hanging from fake harnesses, screaming TWISTED LINE to get our automatic emergency reactions down pat. He made us jump off a six-foot ledge to rehearse landing. Again, all the time hearing how WE WERE GOING TO DIE.

Eight hours later they gave the boys the blue jumpsuits, my sister and myself the pretty yellow ones. I guess girls need to dive with more feminine colors? At this point my sister and I are having grave (pun totally intended) doubts. Thing is, there is no way no how we are going to betray our sex and bail when the boys don't. We will not misrepresent the female gender and back down.

Now, I forgot to mention the great part about these jumps. They are little itty-bitty planes, like in the english patient or indiana jones. Two seats and just enough room in the back for the jump instructor and three jumpees. We go in hooked to the static line, and when the instructor tells us we execute our exit in this manner:

1) Walk out onto the plane wing
2) Hang from the plane wing
3) Let go of the plane wing

Okay, so part one and two - got it, got it. Wait - let go of the plane wing???? Hanging in the air from a flying plane - let go. Uncurl your fingers from the grip of life? Are you serious??

Oh yes, yes I am.

Sis and I are steeled for our endeavor. No six hours of life threats will back us down now. Strong like bull.

The flight instructor then comes over and tells us that the winds are too high to jump today, but as we have paid we can come back and complete the jump any time in the next year.

All the boys came back for the jump the next week. They loved it.

Hells naw I didn't go back. Are you crazy?

I may not have jumped, but I paid that buck twenty for a really great story. Awwwwww yeah.

new years!!!!!

Hey all! Connecticut Jen, RFW, and I are planning a trip to Vegas for New Years! Bally's hotel.

We have been talking about this for a couple of months, speculating and whatnot. I would have emailed a bunch of you, but put it off until our plans became more solid.

Suddenly it seems hotels are booking up, thus there is no time for tomfoolery. You know I'd love to see you people, if you are even thinking of joining us book a room now! You can always cancel in a month or two with no penalty if you change your minds.

Cmon, all the cool kids are doin it...

vma's

A few thoughts that come to mind while watching the vma's.

- Green Day ROCKED. They absolutely deserved all of those awards.

- Lindsay Lohan looks exactly like Hillary Duff. Why? And what in god's name happened to her boobs? They were so well loved, and now they are gone...

- Hilary Duff is so emaciated she doesn't even look like herself. How terrible. She and Lindsay are supposed to be Disney-type role models for children?

- Pre-show crap done by MTV sucked. They are not good at juggling live events. (note live 8)

- Diddy knows how to host. Now if he just could get his name straight.

- I may regret admitting this, but Kelly Clarkston really did a terrific job. She put on a great performance.

- My Chemical romance was totally gypped. Gwen Stephanie was not.

- Are Ciara and Missy dating?

- Have Beyonce and Jay Z broken up?

- I gotta teach myself the guitar and make a video so I can win a moon man and get to some of these after parties. Teach these fools how to really roll.

- Oh, and teach myself to get real.

Now back to our ordinary programming.

tourist

I finally went to Coney Island! Spent all day there, it was a gorgeous day and a total blast!

conflict

I had a total fight with Random Girl Wednesday night, She sensed some anger from me, and asked about it. So I let her have it.

Boy, she didn't like that. In response, she lied, diverted blame, and then tried to brush me off on the head of my dept. I called her out on each and every comeback. At the end of our 45 minute discussion, as a peace effort I tried to end with "I'm feeling much better about this, I think we can work this out. Do you feel better?"

Her response was "I never feel good, it doesn't matter." Can you say hello, drama queen? This is my boss?

Next day she stopped by before leaving to apologize. Oh, and let me know she was going to be out the next day.

Like I'm not covering her ass every day anyway? Please.

life span

Today was a bad stomach day.

This means I was in pain, occasionally nauseas, and very fatigued. Luckily it was a temporary partial blockage, so no actual vomiting or hospital visit was in order.

Quite a life, eh?

I dragged my sorry ass into work anyway. Residual guilt from being out sick four days two weeks ago, combined with the hope that my day would improve were my motivators. As I spent my lunch hour curled into a ball on my office floor, a few things occurred to me.

First of all, my office floor is much dirtier upon closer inspection than anticipated.

Then the big thoughts. There are people out there who don't get sick all the time like me. This is not a lament or a complaint, merely an observation. Seriously, if I had been born 100 years ago I would be dead already.

This I am okay with. I don't know if any of you caught it, but the series finale of Six Feet Under played this past weekend. It would be an understatement to say it was phenomenal. This, by far, was the most poignant ending to a series I have ever seen. As I am a crier, I believe I shed tears for at least half of the 75-minute episode. The next day, thinking about the show on the subway to work, I started to tear up all over again. We are not talking just of the tightening at the back of the throat, but real welling of teardrops.

The episode really made me think about life and death in a whole new way. For me it brought home how transient life is, but in a way that makes you contemplate more about the mortality of your loved ones than yourself. I have a huge family, consisting of about 15 aunts and uncles, 36 cousins, parents, two siblings plus in-laws, and two nieces, a nephew, and a zygote on the way. Of the cousins, only eight are younger than me. That adds up to a lot of funerals in my future.

How overwhelming. I didn't even count friends, people whom I have known on an even more intimate level.

Legacies then crossed my mind. The whole "what is the point?", "why are we here?", "what do we leave behind?" conundrums. Even if you have children, your memory fades and disappears after three generations. It seems that 99.9% of the population lives, breathes, and as time moves on vanishes as if never existing on the planet.

Religion crossed my mind. Then kept walking.

I know this may seem selfish, but I think I would rather be one of the earlier ones to go. Go out while I am still bright and shiny. Not lose all those people I care about. I'll look good in all the pictures; people will remember me as sharp as a tack. Not to mention stopping the pain. If I am this sick and yet so healthy, I don't want to get much worse.

This of course easy to say in casual conversation, when not faced with actual death. Rhetorical like. Maybe I just need to get myself some better painkillers.

Or a couch in my office. That way I'll sleep instead of thinking of all this cheery type stuff.

cut off!

Work email recieved a couple of weeks ago:

"Effective September 1, 2005, due to legal reasons, the Company will be blocking access to the following:

            personal Internet email accounts,

            instant messaging and

            chat rooms.

If any employee feels that there are compelling business reasons for accessing any of the above, however, please contact me in the Legal Department."

They can block my google email, but they haven't blocked blogger yet! Vive le blogging!

chemical motivation

Do you know there are people out there who can function without coffee in the morning? The fabled “morning people”.

I have been doing this nine to five gig for almost five years now. Fully aware of my addiction to late nights, I make a consorted effort to get to bed early and get enough sleep.

No matter what, I am a zombie without my caffeine. Be it coffee, red bull, tea, or soda, I just gotta have it. It’s not an addiction thing either; I don’t get coffee headaches or withdrawals of any kind. I just am tired. Lackluster. Less than.

It’s not like I haven’t tried other avenues. Vitamin B, chromium, uber vitamins…nada.

Today I made it to 10:20 am before finally giving in to the java monster.

Makes me wonder – the head of my department, she is over 40, mother of three, 5’8” and only 118 pounds, lives an hour and a half away – and NEVER drinks caffeine. I want whatever she’s taking.

Did you know that residents have to show up to the hospital at 6:30 am for rounds? Can’t wait for that one.

what a relief!

See, I picked up this new book "Why Do Men Have Nipples?", which I heard about on NPR. It is a book full of answers to kooky questions people ask doctors after a few drinks.

According to the book, alcohol does not kill brain cells! Woo hoo!

This book is awesome. All those inane geeky type questions and myths I love to know the secrets behind. Like does a shot of bourbon cure a cold? Why are yawns contagious? Why do you laugh when tickled?

I could not put this sucker down. Yay obscure knowledge!

simply the best

So. How good are you?

That's always a fun question. Go above and beyond self-esteem assessment, we are talking how do you place yourself?

Since my last promotion, I am becoming more and more aware of how much of an asset I am to this company. That sounds egotistical, but really it is a complete tone of wonder. Like the man in Talking Heads says, "how did I get here?"

Don't get me wrong, I've always been top in my class. Top 10%. I was never the smartest person. Not even the cream of the crop. I hung out with the cream of the crop, and gilded some knowledge from them. (Yo, Colorado boy, remember Digitals? Exactly.)

Therefore, I always kind of assumed that I could have some influential jobs, but the real leadership goes to the top two or three percent. Right?

I guess not. Okay, I know Bush is president and he sure as shit didn't graduate with honors. But somewhere I still had this Pollyanna idea in my head that the gifteds rule the world. As I am not one of them, I innately believed in a kind of glass ceiling. That's why I never even considered trying for an actual MD earlier in my life. It literally never crossed my mind that I could do it.

The most ironic thing about this whole situation is I am one of the most positive people on the planet. I ALWAYS look on the bright side. I never say never. I carpe diem.

Heck, forget being a doctor. I think I'll rule the world instead.

partials

This morning on the subway the woman next to me could not stop looking over at me. She did not look insane, so I rather disregarded it.

On my walk to work I noticed a person or two looking my way. It occurred to me that although while walking in this burg I try to remain as inconspicuous as possible to avoid trouble, I am not invisible.

I thought about the big fish/small pond big fish/huge pond concept and how I am so much more used to blending in than I ever have in my life. Thoughts of my Rubine fuchsia hair and doc martens crossed my mind. How resigned I was once to always being the person people stopped to ask for directions. Why mad hair color increased accessibility I'll never know.

While unlocking my office door I noticed I had arrived to work with my shirt inside out. Seams and all.

Philosophy inspired by my occasional lack of ability to notice detail. It's better, I suppose, than the time I wore my workout pants inside out at the gym and did not realized until I made it home. Yes, people stared that day too, but in my mind it was in appreciation of my ass.

Glass half empty or half full? Just needs to be topped off with some more bubbly, I say.

happy anniversary

to my tummy! Today is the one year anniversary of my hernia repair! Wow, twelve months ago exactly my entire abdominal wall was reconstructed because of a seven centimeter gap in my lining.

Boy, did that one hurt. Not the hernia, the recovery. It was the most painful of all my procedures, but also the quickest recovery.

My tummy still looks pretty too. Flat and almost scar-free. Plastic surgeons rock.

anger

I have been unable to fall asleep due to the fury filled diatribes that cross my mind. All I can think about is the myriad of ways in which my boss sucks.

You know what this means. I cannot be this obsessed and not do something. There will be words this Monday morning.

No more mr nice rockstar.

who? wha? where?

So I just came back today from being out sick all week and discovered that my boss is absolutely USELESS.

Not only was she not able to handle a damn thing, but she messed things up even worse than they already were, and aggravated everyone to the point of explosion. She also put everything off until I came back and could clean up her mess.

It is one thing to feel wanted, but it is another thing entirely to know that things will not be taken care of or fall to the wayside because your boss is incompetent and incapable. I have been here four hours and have not even gotten to read any of my 350 emails for cleaning up her messes.

Seattle Girl, you could come back and do a quarter of what you did before and you would be like a godsend, I kid you not!!

spam

Okay, they have figured out how to spam blog comments! Check out the comments on my last post. I wonder if it is en masse or some poor schlub has to go in one by one.

Madness.

hiatus

Wow, it has been a while since I posted. I went to the Jersey Shore over the weekend with Spaghetti and RFW, had a fantabulous time. Relaxed, took in some rays, chilled out. We even decided to forgo beer for ice cream. Now that is a culture shock!

I was kind of sick at the end of last week, battled it off over the weekend, and my immune system finally succumbed on Monday. I was out sick three days!! I slept seventeen hours each night. That is something. Here I am, a pretty good specimen of health, and a little bug knocks me out flat. Fresh out of an H.G. Wells novel.

Back to work tomorrow, back to my full time posting, back to life. Good to see ya'll.

growing up

I find the hardest part about being an independent adult is keeping me fed.

It never stops! I have to eat something at least three times a day, if not more. The constant endless need to consume tires me. It takes me at least an hour and a half every waking day to take in my meals, and at least another 45 minutes to prepare them. Then add in grocery shopping and planning and whatnot, its crazy!

Yes, I like eating, and yes, I like food. I am not a picky eater, either. It is just that the amount of time and energy I have to put into filling my gullet constantly surprises me.

As a youth, I was fortunate in that my parents took good care of me. I was sheltered, clothed, and fed. They always made sure their children had "something to eat".

My current existence is without that particular luxury. I am great at eating, and will eat everything in my house - until there is nothing left. I swear to god, I open my fridge and if there is something edible in there I do a little dance. Last night I woke up and nearly died of joy because I found that I had some fruit to nosh on.

I suppose it is a testament to the luxury of my life that I can complain about something like this. No worries about being able to have access to food, afford to eat food, or have time to get food. I don't have any other mouths to feed besides my own, either. It's just that of all of my imaginings of my adulthood, no concept, dream, or idea ever incorporated this much effort regarding meals.

It only took me 33 years to get it - surviving is still what we all essentially do. Take off the bells, whistles, shrink wrap and delivery it all boils down to the basics.

lloyd

Once upon a time, I had a ficus named Lloyd.

He was named after Lloyd Dobbler, from Say Anything fame. One time dream guy, indicative of desires past. But I digress.

So I had this plant - well, bush - definitely not a tree. He was about two feet tall when I bought him. Then boy, did he grow. He got bigger and bigger and bigger, I had to re-pot him a couple of times.

Eventually while living in Hamtramck, I put him on the porch. As much as I hate to say it, I was tired of taking care of him. So I let him go.

When I let go, I do not kid. I did not water that plant for a year.

He Would. Not. Die.

Eventually the guilt overwhelmed me, and I started to take care of Lloyd again. He flourished. In no time flat he was four feet tall and three feet wide, with no end in sight. He did not need me to survive, but my attention helped him to grow.

This, to me, is a poignant analogy to the truly great friends in my life. Many times I may forget to keep in touch, and then neglect further out of guilt. The thing is, as we are true friends, that connection does not die. No matter what, be it drought, tornado, or flood, when I think of them, I smile. And they of me. Within five minutes of our next conversation, we know our connection survives, intangible as it may be.

You know who you all are, and the knowledge that you are there means the world to me.

super size me

chicken fries?

Chicken Fries?!?

CHICKEN FRIES?!?!?

whimsy

I worked another one of those really long days today, not leaving until after nine. Is it normal to crave foregoing dinner for a bottle of wine after a day like that?

Normal or not, floating off on a fuzzy cloud sounds so nice. Happy vino drunk.

Eh, I resisted. Girlfriend's gotta get up early and get to the gym. See, working a twelve hour day does not leave room for excessive drunkenness.

Stupid work. Gets in the way of my social life. I gotta start playing the lottery.