I was in bed. I was happy to be there. Before getting there, I really wanted to be there. My eyes had been burning and watering and they were just so MAD at me for having been open for so FREAKING LONG!! I layed down, and got all snuggled under my 1000 thread count egyptian cotton sheets and my super fluffy-cozy down comforter. I was positioned in my most comfortable superman pose with my 21 year old pillow tucked just right beneath my head, (we'll discuss that later) and I was SO looking forward to the next 8 or even NINE hours of blissful unconsciousness. Maybe looking forward to it too much? My kids aren't at home. For the first time in 8+ years, I am at my house and they are all at Nana's for the night. Freedom. Nobody's going to call my name in the middle of the night and ask me for juice, or if they can take off their pajamas, or if they can be Iron Man Girl next halloween, or tell me that the movie they've watched ten THOUSAND times already is suddenly "soooo scaaardey" and they need another one.
*brain clicks on*
The kids don't need any more movies, they need to read more books. I need to finish that childrens' book I started 7 years ago and never finished. It's been so long since I've worked on it I don't even know if my illustrating style has changed. I wonder if it's like riding a bike. No, it's not like riding a bike at all, it's like drawing, you can't draw while riding a bike, the two are totally unrelated. But I bet if I could draw and ride a bike, and somebody got it on video, I could youtube it and get millions of viewers and become famous, and therefore, rich, because don't the two go hand in hand? Can you be famous and not be rich? Probably. I don't think John Wilkes Booth was rich and everybody knows about him. But he's famous for all the wrong reasons, so that pro'lly doesn't count. He didn't get famous by doing awesome stuff like drawing while riding a bike. If I could draw and ride a bike, I wouldn't even have to finish the book, because I bet just one or two drawing-while-riding episodes would probably rake in enough dough to make me independantly wealthy! I'm a genius! And everybody thought my brother had all the smarts. Smarts FARTS! I'm brilliant! I mean c'mon - the Upside Down Show is two guys with an imaginary remote control and their special effects consist of somebody turning the cam-corder upside down every few minutes, and they've got their own frickin' TELEVISION SHOW with that Einstein ingenuity. SURELY, my razzle-dazzle bike-riding-artsy extravaganza will be more captivating than that! I could even up the stakes every new episode by changing up the riding apparati. I could start with training wheels, and then graduate to a big-girl bike, and then maybe one of those old fashioned GIANT front wheel bikes, and then maybe, if I'm super tricky, I could even do a uni-cycle! The possibilities are practically endless! and WHY AM I STILL AWAKE!?!?!?!?!?
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
You're not sick, you're crazy.
Very recently I became allergic to penicillin. It wasn't fun. I don't recommend it. If this were facebook, I'd put a "like" on the I HATE BECOMING ALLERGIC TO PENICILLIN page. I won't go into the gory details of what happened to me, but if you're really curious, you can google Urticaria and Angioedema and Arthritis in connection with penicillin reactions, and see what I went through.
Anyway, sometime early in my second admission to the E.R., the following conversation with the admitting MD took place.
Dr. - "Remus Graham?"
Me - (in a confused way) "No....?"
Dr. - (turns around, looks at nurses in an even more confused way) ".....uuuuuuuh"
Me - (lightbulb illuminates overhead) "ooooooooh, ARE YOU MISS Graham! Yes, yes I am."
(ensue laughing hysterically)
Dr. - "Do you or does any one in your family have a history of mental illness?"
During this entire silly exchange my mind was going a million miles an hour trying to figure out why the Dr. would have called me Remus. First I thought he was one of those guys who thinks it's funny to call you by the wrong name, or does it "just to see if you're paying attention". I have an in-law who thinks it's funny to call everyone George, so I thought maybe that was his game. When that didn't seem to fit the scenario, my brains google button hit on the idea that there was some other patient here by the name of Remus Graham and our charts had been swapped. Same last name... I could see the mistake. When that didn't seem to fit either, I then scoured the corners of my consciousness to figure out why, oh why was this Dr. SO confused that my name wasn't Remus. And that's when the google button brought up the "translation to english language" option, and the lightbulb went on. Aha!
When I regaled this anecdote to my friends and family, aside from laughing at my poor hearing, the first question from them was, why would he ask you about mental illness?
Good question. At first I thought my hearing faux pas was such a blunder that it had him questioning my sanity. Later, after having done some extensive research on the cause of my entire medical fiasco, I learned that there are cases of allergic reactions where the patient believed so strongly that they were allergic to a substance that they actually put themselves into a full blown allergic reaction, just because they believed that was indeed what was happening to them. For me this was not the case. And trust me, if it were at all possible to have believed myself out of the penicillin reaction I was having, I would have done it. I did NOT wake up one morning and say, "Hey, it's been a long time since I've visited the good folks down in the E.R. and it's high time I had a serious life threatening medical issue! Plus, I could REALLY use an outrageous medical bill that would be the equivalent of buying a new luxury car, so I think I'll be allergic to penicillin now.".
Anyway, the whole idea that someone could actually believe themselves into an allergic reaction, and that the medical industry would consider such a phenomenon as "mental illness" really got me thinking. Is it really a mental illness that could do such a thing? Isn't it more like a very unfortunate super-power? In the world of super-heroes, those people would be called like "Introspective Voodoo Girl" or something, with powers that only work on themselves. Eventually they'd probably turn to being a super-villain though, just because misery loves company, and they'd be working on a machine that could extrovert their powers by focusing it through a super high intensity lazer beam that they would point at a trillion-faceted crystal hung from the top of the Empire State Building, which would refract the beam into trillions of smaller beams that would hit the entire population of New York and eventually THE WORLD! Muahuahahahahaaaa! Sheesh. What a weirdo.
Here's another thought. What if there are people all around us that are what they are, be it rich, poor, thin, fat, ugly, pretty, just because they believed that is what they were. We don't know about it because none of those things draw the kind of attention that a disfiguring physical ailment draws, but what if it happens all the time and we just don't realize it? Furthermore, what if poor uncle Gus, who talks to the chair, and believes the chair talks back to him ACTUALLY hears the chair? You don't know... maybe it does because he believes it does. Just because the chair doesn't talk to YOU doesn't mean it isn't happening. He's not "mentally ill", you're just JEALOUS!
Well, I guess all I am really saying is, maybe not everyone who we think is a few bricks shy, actually is. Maybe they are gifted with something the rest of us lack, and our society doesn't know how to handle it, so they've been labeled as "ill". Or maybe I'm just overly sensitive because I didn't clean my ears out well enough that day.
Anyway, sometime early in my second admission to the E.R., the following conversation with the admitting MD took place.
Dr. - "Remus Graham?"
Me - (in a confused way) "No....?"
Dr. - (turns around, looks at nurses in an even more confused way) ".....uuuuuuuh"
Me - (lightbulb illuminates overhead) "ooooooooh, ARE YOU MISS Graham! Yes, yes I am."
(ensue laughing hysterically)
Dr. - "Do you or does any one in your family have a history of mental illness?"
During this entire silly exchange my mind was going a million miles an hour trying to figure out why the Dr. would have called me Remus. First I thought he was one of those guys who thinks it's funny to call you by the wrong name, or does it "just to see if you're paying attention". I have an in-law who thinks it's funny to call everyone George, so I thought maybe that was his game. When that didn't seem to fit the scenario, my brains google button hit on the idea that there was some other patient here by the name of Remus Graham and our charts had been swapped. Same last name... I could see the mistake. When that didn't seem to fit either, I then scoured the corners of my consciousness to figure out why, oh why was this Dr. SO confused that my name wasn't Remus. And that's when the google button brought up the "translation to english language" option, and the lightbulb went on. Aha!
When I regaled this anecdote to my friends and family, aside from laughing at my poor hearing, the first question from them was, why would he ask you about mental illness?
Good question. At first I thought my hearing faux pas was such a blunder that it had him questioning my sanity. Later, after having done some extensive research on the cause of my entire medical fiasco, I learned that there are cases of allergic reactions where the patient believed so strongly that they were allergic to a substance that they actually put themselves into a full blown allergic reaction, just because they believed that was indeed what was happening to them. For me this was not the case. And trust me, if it were at all possible to have believed myself out of the penicillin reaction I was having, I would have done it. I did NOT wake up one morning and say, "Hey, it's been a long time since I've visited the good folks down in the E.R. and it's high time I had a serious life threatening medical issue! Plus, I could REALLY use an outrageous medical bill that would be the equivalent of buying a new luxury car, so I think I'll be allergic to penicillin now.".
Anyway, the whole idea that someone could actually believe themselves into an allergic reaction, and that the medical industry would consider such a phenomenon as "mental illness" really got me thinking. Is it really a mental illness that could do such a thing? Isn't it more like a very unfortunate super-power? In the world of super-heroes, those people would be called like "Introspective Voodoo Girl" or something, with powers that only work on themselves. Eventually they'd probably turn to being a super-villain though, just because misery loves company, and they'd be working on a machine that could extrovert their powers by focusing it through a super high intensity lazer beam that they would point at a trillion-faceted crystal hung from the top of the Empire State Building, which would refract the beam into trillions of smaller beams that would hit the entire population of New York and eventually THE WORLD! Muahuahahahahaaaa! Sheesh. What a weirdo.
Here's another thought. What if there are people all around us that are what they are, be it rich, poor, thin, fat, ugly, pretty, just because they believed that is what they were. We don't know about it because none of those things draw the kind of attention that a disfiguring physical ailment draws, but what if it happens all the time and we just don't realize it? Furthermore, what if poor uncle Gus, who talks to the chair, and believes the chair talks back to him ACTUALLY hears the chair? You don't know... maybe it does because he believes it does. Just because the chair doesn't talk to YOU doesn't mean it isn't happening. He's not "mentally ill", you're just JEALOUS!
Well, I guess all I am really saying is, maybe not everyone who we think is a few bricks shy, actually is. Maybe they are gifted with something the rest of us lack, and our society doesn't know how to handle it, so they've been labeled as "ill". Or maybe I'm just overly sensitive because I didn't clean my ears out well enough that day.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Z I N G! Perfect Timing!!
You know the statement, "better late than never"? Yeah, I don't think that really applies to everything. Here's why. When I walk away from a conversation, and think to myself later, "man, I should have said ____(Fill in the blank)____ - THAT would have been AWESOME!!" I should be able to call up all involved parties in said conversation and - ZING that one-liner right in there, and.... the response would be all the laughter, accolades, and awe at my quick-wittedness, that I so rightly deserve!
But it just doesn't work like that.... or does it? It's not like I've ever actually tried, so maybe I should test this out. I don't really have time to set up the continuity for every conversation here, so just imagine a conversation we've had, and if any of these are the verbal icing on that cake, then let the laughter ensue, or whichever response is most appropriate.
Here goes - here are some of the one funny, smart, sassy, and poignant things I would have said if I'd have thought of it in time.
1: Or we could make a Karey sandwich!
2: Does it hurt like when somebody hits you in the head with a pot?
3: Those weren't real fish-heads.
4: Maybe if you tried it with an Australian accent!
5: Just make it look like a chicken did it.
6: Chinese food doesn't count.
Do I hear crickets? Yeah, that's what I thought.
So, no, people. Late is not always better than never. Sometimes never is best. Never. Ever.
Ever.
But it just doesn't work like that.... or does it? It's not like I've ever actually tried, so maybe I should test this out. I don't really have time to set up the continuity for every conversation here, so just imagine a conversation we've had, and if any of these are the verbal icing on that cake, then let the laughter ensue, or whichever response is most appropriate.
Here goes - here are some of the one funny, smart, sassy, and poignant things I would have said if I'd have thought of it in time.
1: Or we could make a Karey sandwich!
2: Does it hurt like when somebody hits you in the head with a pot?
3: Those weren't real fish-heads.
4: Maybe if you tried it with an Australian accent!
5: Just make it look like a chicken did it.
6: Chinese food doesn't count.
Do I hear crickets? Yeah, that's what I thought.
So, no, people. Late is not always better than never. Sometimes never is best. Never. Ever.
Ever.
Monday, June 28, 2010
find the funny
I've been accused of a lot of things, some of them are true. I won't say how many. That's not the point. Of the things I've been accused of, being too silly, or not taking things seriously enough is probably the most common. But here's the thing - I'd rather be able to find the funny in a situation than only see the negative.
So, your vehicle died and you have to walk to work - bright side: You're now "green" and helping the environment. So, your British based Petrolium company has an oil spill that is causing catastrophic damage to the gulf coast - bright side: They say there's no such thing as bad publicity! So, you were beat as a child - bright side: you know how to take a punch. You get the point.
Everybody has a backstory, and everybody has scars from the past, or fresh wounds from the present, but hey, chicks dig scars, right? Do guys dig scars? I'm going to tell myself they do. I have a lot of scars on my knees, and I've never had a guy say, "You know I like you a lot, but those scars on your knees are a deal breaker".
I'm not saying I never pout or get angry about the things that go wrong, but I also tell myself that I'm one of those women who "looks sexy when I'm angry" so, it all works out.
Bottom line, I like to find the funny. There's lots of ups and downs in life, but if you'll just throw your hands in the air and scream on the downs, you'll find it's a lot like a thriller roller coaster.
So, your vehicle died and you have to walk to work - bright side: You're now "green" and helping the environment. So, your British based Petrolium company has an oil spill that is causing catastrophic damage to the gulf coast - bright side: They say there's no such thing as bad publicity! So, you were beat as a child - bright side: you know how to take a punch. You get the point.
Everybody has a backstory, and everybody has scars from the past, or fresh wounds from the present, but hey, chicks dig scars, right? Do guys dig scars? I'm going to tell myself they do. I have a lot of scars on my knees, and I've never had a guy say, "You know I like you a lot, but those scars on your knees are a deal breaker".
I'm not saying I never pout or get angry about the things that go wrong, but I also tell myself that I'm one of those women who "looks sexy when I'm angry" so, it all works out.
Bottom line, I like to find the funny. There's lots of ups and downs in life, but if you'll just throw your hands in the air and scream on the downs, you'll find it's a lot like a thriller roller coaster.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
So, It's been a while...
So, it's been a while since I've posted a blog. And, I could lie and say it's because I've been too busy, or that nothing has inspired me so much as to write about it. However, the truth is that I apparently filled up my short term memory bank with important facts like - flushable wipes can double as moist towelettes for your face, but they are salty, so don't lick them - and because my brain gets full of such pertinent and vital informaiton, I forgot my gmail username and password. I finally went through the steps it takes to recover them, so now I can delight you all with my meanderings of the mind. I know, you're all giddy with anticipation of what I will say, so you can go and repeat it to all your friends and relatives and make me rich and famous. Is that not why we all do these blogs? Hoping someone will discover our hidden talent for manuscription, and they will have connections to someone who is looking for the next "it" thing and, it just so happens that the "it" they're looking for is me and my blog ramblings? Oh, is that just me? Ok.
So, for today, I just wanted to say a little about the brains of a mom. Mothers, as a species, don't get the privelege of using our brains the same as the rest of the population. (I suspect this is true of mothers who have jobs outside the home as well as the stay-at-home mom, but I believe it applies moreso to the SAHM than others.) Here's what I mean. In any given minute of any random day, I do not have 100% of my thought patterns entirely to myself. I have to share my brains ALL THE TIME. If, for example, I wanted to sit down and type something witty on my blog, and my children are home with me, here's how the division of my brain power is distributed on a good day: 70% gets used for what I'm actually trying to do - type on my blog. 10% gets used to sort noise - who's screaming, why are they screaming, is it a happy scream or a mad scream or a I-poked-myself-in-the-eye-with-a-pencil emergency scream. This also includes filtering quiet time - why is it so quiet and what are they getting into? 15% gets used to interperet requests that come in the midst of the noise filtering, and sort what is a valid request versus a rediculous request. Valid request: "Mom, can I go potty?" Rediculous request: "Mom, can I jump off the roof with my pillowcase for a parachute?" And the last 5% gets used to make the conscious effort to breathe deeply, speak clearly and calmly and not freak out on my kids for the constant interruptions.
So, maybe it's silly that I forgot my username and password, but considering that I'm only using 70% of my available brain power to accomplish what I really want to do, I think it's forgivable.
So, for today, I just wanted to say a little about the brains of a mom. Mothers, as a species, don't get the privelege of using our brains the same as the rest of the population. (I suspect this is true of mothers who have jobs outside the home as well as the stay-at-home mom, but I believe it applies moreso to the SAHM than others.) Here's what I mean. In any given minute of any random day, I do not have 100% of my thought patterns entirely to myself. I have to share my brains ALL THE TIME. If, for example, I wanted to sit down and type something witty on my blog, and my children are home with me, here's how the division of my brain power is distributed on a good day: 70% gets used for what I'm actually trying to do - type on my blog. 10% gets used to sort noise - who's screaming, why are they screaming, is it a happy scream or a mad scream or a I-poked-myself-in-the-eye-with-a-pencil emergency scream. This also includes filtering quiet time - why is it so quiet and what are they getting into? 15% gets used to interperet requests that come in the midst of the noise filtering, and sort what is a valid request versus a rediculous request. Valid request: "Mom, can I go potty?" Rediculous request: "Mom, can I jump off the roof with my pillowcase for a parachute?" And the last 5% gets used to make the conscious effort to breathe deeply, speak clearly and calmly and not freak out on my kids for the constant interruptions.
So, maybe it's silly that I forgot my username and password, but considering that I'm only using 70% of my available brain power to accomplish what I really want to do, I think it's forgivable.
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