(As promised, Jelly, this one's for you...)
Last night I attended a Longaberger fundraiser to support breast cancer research and treatment - it was their annual Horizon of Hope event, and it's always a good time. For the past three years, my best friend and I have made an occasion of going. We play bingo, we buy 50/50 tickets, we do the auction thing...in other words, we spend a lot of money to lose a lot of different ways.
But I don't think that's why we go. She can correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure this now-annual tradition has strangely become a big part of our friendship. Of course we care about ending breast cancer (doesn't everyone?), and of course we like to throw our support behind Angel, who's a Longaberger consultant and an all-around great gal. I don't believe, though, that either of us is altruistic enough to go with only those two goals in mind.
There's something most fundraisers have in common - the food, typical banquet fare prepared for a small army, is fairly bland; the company one must keep (especially when seated at a table of unfamiliar faces) is questionable; and you are almost guaranteed to lose every dollar you pay for those useless paper tickets they give you in return.
But there is something priceless in sitting next to your slightly tipsy (because you forced a cosmo upon her) BFF and her mom, doubled over in hysterics over the time you called her ten days before her birthday and cleverly teased, "Who's having a birthday today?", only to hear, "I don't know - who?!" in return. (Guess you had to be there - but seriously, it was hilarious. My uncertain response to her response was something like, "Um, yours?") Even when you're very slowly nursing a lukewarm Yuengling and taste-testing a mediocre, only slightly chocolaty mousse, that kind of laughter makes the whole event worthwhile. And of course the fundraisers must know that, because aren't there a million other ways to raise money? Yet, when all is said and done, it's valuable in more than one way to have a bunch of friends sitting around a large banquet room, battling it out over pig-in-a-pen bingo and talking trash.
Why does any of this matter? Well, because sometimes (just sometimes) I have a hard time remembering how Maureen and I got to be best friends. I frequently remember odd situations over which we've bonded - for instance, my favorite green khakis with the giant bleach stain on the ass (she was the only person nice enough to tell me about it...and that was before we even really knew each other). One of my favorite things about her is that she's the kind of person who doesn't give up on friends - she knew probably from the start that I wasn't really the BFF kind of gal. She didn't take offense to the fact that for an entire summer during which we worked together, I sat at a table all the way across from her during lunch because I'm a claustrophobic eater with a large personal bubble. She did, however, gradually coach me to move within easy speaking distance until finally I was sitting next to her at the lunch table.
Maureen is the kind of person who looks at you like "I want a hug" even when she knows you're not the hugging type. She keeps a respectful distance because she knows that eventually, you will have to cave to the unspoken demand. She will patiently wait until you come around to seeing that friendship is about more than being on the same page all the time. At least, that's what she did with me - and I'm not easy to love.
There aren't too many people with whom I would venture to a fundraiser where I am sure to be uncomfortable (you know, the whole personal space thing...), lose all my money, and eat less-than-gourmet fare for gourmet prices. But, Jelly, you know I'd do it for you :)
t.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Crickets, they are a-chirpin'...
I'm an early riser - not by choice, but by biology. Or something like that.
Which leads me to be here, in front of my computer at an obscene time trying to think of the brilliant thing I thought to write last night (but didn't).
Have you ever sat in front of a glaring computer screen and wondered what to do? With the billions of words and millions of pages the inter-web offers, and STILL you can't figure out what to watch or read or play?
My theory is this - there's just too much going on in the world. Things need to s-l-o-w d-o-w-n...it would be nice if everything didn't move at the speed of light so that I always felt the need to be doing or watching or reading or SOMETHING. And yet, I do believe it's impossible this way.
The last thoughts I had before falling asleep last night: I need to write a living will and I need to get new life insurance policies and I need to fill out new direct deposit forms and I need to eat breakfast (apparently at 9:30 at night) and I need to throw everything away because it's all too much to look at anymore and I need to tell my husband I love him before I fall asleep and I need to play with my cat more often because he's too fat and possibly unhappy and I need to buy those two things I forgot when I went food shopping today and I need to find a new novel to read and I need to start looking at that biology textbook and I need to pick up my prescription from CVS and I need to clean the house and I need to...STOP MOVING. I need to do nothing for awhile.
I need a vacation.
t.
Which leads me to be here, in front of my computer at an obscene time trying to think of the brilliant thing I thought to write last night (but didn't).
Have you ever sat in front of a glaring computer screen and wondered what to do? With the billions of words and millions of pages the inter-web offers, and STILL you can't figure out what to watch or read or play?
My theory is this - there's just too much going on in the world. Things need to s-l-o-w d-o-w-n...it would be nice if everything didn't move at the speed of light so that I always felt the need to be doing or watching or reading or SOMETHING. And yet, I do believe it's impossible this way.
The last thoughts I had before falling asleep last night: I need to write a living will and I need to get new life insurance policies and I need to fill out new direct deposit forms and I need to eat breakfast (apparently at 9:30 at night) and I need to throw everything away because it's all too much to look at anymore and I need to tell my husband I love him before I fall asleep and I need to play with my cat more often because he's too fat and possibly unhappy and I need to buy those two things I forgot when I went food shopping today and I need to find a new novel to read and I need to start looking at that biology textbook and I need to pick up my prescription from CVS and I need to clean the house and I need to...STOP MOVING. I need to do nothing for awhile.
I need a vacation.
t.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Airing out our grievances
August 18, 2010
Dr. XXXXXXX
Cross Keys Animal Hospital
2071 North Black Horse Pike
Williamstown, NJ 08094
Dear Dr. XXXX,
On August 16, my mother brought her 3 ½-year-old boxer, Molly, in because of very strange behaviors she was exhibiting, including inexplicably urinating around the house, stumbling, failing to recognize family members, losing her appetite and the ability to drink, losing her nerve function and possibly her eyesight, and becoming confused about where she was. You did blood tests and said that if they came back clean, there was a chance the dog had either a behavioral problem or brain cancer, the latter condition being somewhat common in boxers.
We waited 24 hours to get the blood test results back and when they were finally relayed to my mother over the phone, a vet tech suggested that the problem was behavioral and that my mother should hire a trainer. When you eventually called her back yourself, you acted as though you were completely unfamiliar with Molly’s case and made the same suggestion. By that time, Molly’s symptoms had worsened considerably. The problem was clearly NOT behavioral and she was clearly NOT in any shape to be transported to a vet hospital in the city and left there.
The service my parents received from you at Cross Keys Animal Hospital was despicable. If you had bothered to listen to what my mother was telling you, you may have been able to make some real recommendations rather than jumping from one extreme to another, especially since you were Molly’s primary vet and could have easily looked at her charts to see some of the other unexplained medical issues she’d previously encountered. In fact, if you had listened to the especially troubling symptom that my mother repeated to you over and over (completely colorless and odorless urine), you probably would have reached the conclusion that we did – her kidneys were failing. If you had bothered to actually speak to my parents this morning when they went through with the incredibly difficult decision to have Molly euthanized because she could no longer eat, drink, see, or stand well, you probably would have thought twice about your previous diagnosis. Since you didn’t seem to take it very seriously when my mother talked to you on the phone, perhaps seeing just how pathetically downhill Molly’s quality of life had fallen would have made you take a second look.
I’m sure you’re wondering what my objective is in writing you. It is simply this - I have lived and worked around animals my entire life and never have I witnessed anything so ethically unsettling as how you treated my parents and their dog when they needed expert advice and compassion the most. Molly was our family dog – she was an incredibly special part of my parents’ lives and those of our extended family and it was very hard to see such a young animal suffer so needlessly.
It was no easy decision to have Molly euthanized, but ultimately none of us believed that she deserved to suffer the debilitating effects of whatever she had anymore. When my parents brought her into your animal hospital, a vet tech took the dog, asked if they wanted to be in the room with her (they did not), and took her away. No vet ever spoke to my parents – not you, not any of your colleagues.
I do not blame you for Molly’s death, but I do blame you for treating my parents and our family pet with so little compassion and respect. Perhaps you are overworked or have achieved some degree of burnout in your career as a vet, but in either case, there is no excuse for being so detached from an extremely time-critical situation that required your attention. Given that the AVMA’s code of ethics is largely based on the Golden Rule, I would ask you the following question: How would you have felt if you’d been treated with little compassion or respect when a member of your family was in critical condition and time was of the essence?
I hope you will think of that the next time someone puts the life of his/her dog in your hands and you are too tired or burnt out to give them any real consideration. As it is, no one in my immediate or extended family will ever make the mistake of visiting your office again. I’m sure that won’t eat into your profit margin too much, but I hope it eats into your conscience a little.
Sincerely,
Tara N. Ronda
Dr. XXXXXXX
Cross Keys Animal Hospital
2071 North Black Horse Pike
Williamstown, NJ 08094
Dear Dr. XXXX,
On August 16, my mother brought her 3 ½-year-old boxer, Molly, in because of very strange behaviors she was exhibiting, including inexplicably urinating around the house, stumbling, failing to recognize family members, losing her appetite and the ability to drink, losing her nerve function and possibly her eyesight, and becoming confused about where she was. You did blood tests and said that if they came back clean, there was a chance the dog had either a behavioral problem or brain cancer, the latter condition being somewhat common in boxers.
We waited 24 hours to get the blood test results back and when they were finally relayed to my mother over the phone, a vet tech suggested that the problem was behavioral and that my mother should hire a trainer. When you eventually called her back yourself, you acted as though you were completely unfamiliar with Molly’s case and made the same suggestion. By that time, Molly’s symptoms had worsened considerably. The problem was clearly NOT behavioral and she was clearly NOT in any shape to be transported to a vet hospital in the city and left there.
The service my parents received from you at Cross Keys Animal Hospital was despicable. If you had bothered to listen to what my mother was telling you, you may have been able to make some real recommendations rather than jumping from one extreme to another, especially since you were Molly’s primary vet and could have easily looked at her charts to see some of the other unexplained medical issues she’d previously encountered. In fact, if you had listened to the especially troubling symptom that my mother repeated to you over and over (completely colorless and odorless urine), you probably would have reached the conclusion that we did – her kidneys were failing. If you had bothered to actually speak to my parents this morning when they went through with the incredibly difficult decision to have Molly euthanized because she could no longer eat, drink, see, or stand well, you probably would have thought twice about your previous diagnosis. Since you didn’t seem to take it very seriously when my mother talked to you on the phone, perhaps seeing just how pathetically downhill Molly’s quality of life had fallen would have made you take a second look.
I’m sure you’re wondering what my objective is in writing you. It is simply this - I have lived and worked around animals my entire life and never have I witnessed anything so ethically unsettling as how you treated my parents and their dog when they needed expert advice and compassion the most. Molly was our family dog – she was an incredibly special part of my parents’ lives and those of our extended family and it was very hard to see such a young animal suffer so needlessly.
It was no easy decision to have Molly euthanized, but ultimately none of us believed that she deserved to suffer the debilitating effects of whatever she had anymore. When my parents brought her into your animal hospital, a vet tech took the dog, asked if they wanted to be in the room with her (they did not), and took her away. No vet ever spoke to my parents – not you, not any of your colleagues.
I do not blame you for Molly’s death, but I do blame you for treating my parents and our family pet with so little compassion and respect. Perhaps you are overworked or have achieved some degree of burnout in your career as a vet, but in either case, there is no excuse for being so detached from an extremely time-critical situation that required your attention. Given that the AVMA’s code of ethics is largely based on the Golden Rule, I would ask you the following question: How would you have felt if you’d been treated with little compassion or respect when a member of your family was in critical condition and time was of the essence?
I hope you will think of that the next time someone puts the life of his/her dog in your hands and you are too tired or burnt out to give them any real consideration. As it is, no one in my immediate or extended family will ever make the mistake of visiting your office again. I’m sure that won’t eat into your profit margin too much, but I hope it eats into your conscience a little.
Sincerely,
Tara N. Ronda
Friday, August 13, 2010
A little zen, anyone?
I don't know why but I've suddenly got my zen-ishness back again. I read a very interesting blog post yesterday about the things we do to distract ourselves from the issues at hand - eating/gaining weight because somehow we don't feel like good people, reading a bunch of stuff just to read it and NOT do something else, hanging out online to feel a sense of social cohesion we might not feel in "real life."
All true for me.
So as I was reading, I was thinking, "What's so bad about being alone?" Nothing, really. I'm a pretty cool cat with some interesting thoughts - why can't I just dive into my brain and sit with it for awhile? Why do I (read: we) feel the need to be constantly on the move?
Funny that I should have this mini-revelation now, when I've just formalized my fall schedule and it leaves little "me" time, even to the imagination. Between working, teaching, doing the pre-med thing, and volunteering at the hospital, my week is beyond full. Whatever spare time there might be will be at least partially devoted to the hubster, the BFF, and the animules. Where do I come in?
Still, I think I like my schedule. I like the busy-ness of it because it means I will be at my most productive. I find it distracting NOT to have a busy schedule - then, it's easier for me to sit on my duff and wait around for someone to light a fire under me. But if I'm in a constant state of motion, the slowdown doesn't happen.
Which will eventually catch up to me, as it does every semester.
So how will I balance it all out? I think there are a couple of answers to that...
And best yet, you never know what a positive impact you might have on someone who isn't having such a great day, just by being nice.
Zen is such an overused term, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it means that people know what they're striving for, even if they don't know how to get it. I think it's everywhere, though.
I've learned that my zen is peace of mind, created by making food from scratch, spoiling myself with a good juicy nectarine instead of McDonald's fries, spending that half-hour from 4 to 4:30am (before hubby is up) listening to the crickets and then falling back asleep. Sometimes it's strange things like getting an amazing deal on something I've waited to buy for months, or sitting at the hospital reception desk on a quiet Sunday night when no one is around but the security guard.
When that peace of mind is gone for awhile, I appreciate it all the more when it comes back.
t.
All true for me.
So as I was reading, I was thinking, "What's so bad about being alone?" Nothing, really. I'm a pretty cool cat with some interesting thoughts - why can't I just dive into my brain and sit with it for awhile? Why do I (read: we) feel the need to be constantly on the move?
Funny that I should have this mini-revelation now, when I've just formalized my fall schedule and it leaves little "me" time, even to the imagination. Between working, teaching, doing the pre-med thing, and volunteering at the hospital, my week is beyond full. Whatever spare time there might be will be at least partially devoted to the hubster, the BFF, and the animules. Where do I come in?
Still, I think I like my schedule. I like the busy-ness of it because it means I will be at my most productive. I find it distracting NOT to have a busy schedule - then, it's easier for me to sit on my duff and wait around for someone to light a fire under me. But if I'm in a constant state of motion, the slowdown doesn't happen.
Which will eventually catch up to me, as it does every semester.
So how will I balance it all out? I think there are a couple of answers to that...
- I'll be mindful of everything I do and try to enjoy it, even when it's unenjoyable.
- I won't waste time on non-productive activities, like procrastination.
- I will view personal time as productive, too - so when I feel like reading Alice in Wonderland, I will. No questions asked of myself.
- I don't know how it will work, and I'm okay with not knowing how it will work.
And best yet, you never know what a positive impact you might have on someone who isn't having such a great day, just by being nice.
Zen is such an overused term, but maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it means that people know what they're striving for, even if they don't know how to get it. I think it's everywhere, though.
I've learned that my zen is peace of mind, created by making food from scratch, spoiling myself with a good juicy nectarine instead of McDonald's fries, spending that half-hour from 4 to 4:30am (before hubby is up) listening to the crickets and then falling back asleep. Sometimes it's strange things like getting an amazing deal on something I've waited to buy for months, or sitting at the hospital reception desk on a quiet Sunday night when no one is around but the security guard.
When that peace of mind is gone for awhile, I appreciate it all the more when it comes back.
t.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Accentuate the positive
Guess what? Two negatives make a positive in more than math.
A few minutes ago I started eating my celery with peanut butter, which I fully expected to hate, and I realized that it's not actually that bad. I don't like celery and I don't like creamy P.B. (I mean, REALLY - peanut butter is supposed to be CRUNCHY...), but together, they're bearable and even, dare I say, kind of tasty.
In contemplating my new discovery aloud, my office-mate pointed out that NEG + NEG = POS in a lot of areas. Her example: A lot of people like the beach (even grumpy old me), but how many people like the isolated elements? No one likes the sticky, salty humidity or getting sand all up in their whoosy-whatsits, but you put that sea air and the sand together and you've got yourself a fun time. Go figure.
So now I'm sitting here thinking about other ways I can accentuate the positive by adding the negatives. Take, for example, one of my major pet peeves: stupid people with driver's licenses. Add the first element ("stupid people") and the second element ("driver's license") and you end up with a sum that proves your superiority to two-thirds of the world's population. Who can't see the positive in that?
I think I like this new equation. In fact, I see this resulting in a good number of experiments (possibly videotaped for my readers' viewing pleasure)...
t.
A few minutes ago I started eating my celery with peanut butter, which I fully expected to hate, and I realized that it's not actually that bad. I don't like celery and I don't like creamy P.B. (I mean, REALLY - peanut butter is supposed to be CRUNCHY...), but together, they're bearable and even, dare I say, kind of tasty.
In contemplating my new discovery aloud, my office-mate pointed out that NEG + NEG = POS in a lot of areas. Her example: A lot of people like the beach (even grumpy old me), but how many people like the isolated elements? No one likes the sticky, salty humidity or getting sand all up in their whoosy-whatsits, but you put that sea air and the sand together and you've got yourself a fun time. Go figure.
So now I'm sitting here thinking about other ways I can accentuate the positive by adding the negatives. Take, for example, one of my major pet peeves: stupid people with driver's licenses. Add the first element ("stupid people") and the second element ("driver's license") and you end up with a sum that proves your superiority to two-thirds of the world's population. Who can't see the positive in that?
I think I like this new equation. In fact, I see this resulting in a good number of experiments (possibly videotaped for my readers' viewing pleasure)...
t.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
As yet untitled...
I am a fan of Lady Gaga. I did not used to be a fan of Lady Gaga. In fact, when my BFF had a Lady Gaga-themed party (to which I didn't go because there was 10 feet of snow on the ground and I was busy puking my guts up), I was very unclear as to why she would waste her time doing it. The kookiness of L.G. continued to elude me until, weeks after said BFF burned the CDs for me, I finally allowed myself to listen to them. It took a few days of playing and replaying them, absorbing the beats and deciphering the lyrics, before I got it.
I'm not a diehard fan, but I have a healthy respect for the young lass with a seemingly endless supply of freakish headgear. I don't find her particularly beautiful, although I'm pretty sure I'd sell at least half my soul to have a body like hers. No, she is not attractive to me in the typical sense. But she does have an attractive energy and sense of self.
Why am I thinking about this just now?
Well, this morning I was listening to my daily dose of Preston & Steve and they were discussing the forthcoming Vanity Fair article about L.G. Since MMR is most definitely NOT a pop station, they were a little critical of her, especially the whole quote about losing creativity through sex. They drew the very common comparison between her and Madonna and went on to discuss the crazy head accoutrements she's fond of wearing. It made me think...and here's the conclusion I arrived at.
Lady Gaga is a symbol. Sure, on the surface she represents the sort of standard drug- and sex-infused pop music with which our radio stations seem to be disturbingly preoccupied. But if you listen closely, you see and hear more. Rather than a mindless repeat of the earlier superstardom enjoyed by the likes of Madonna and her brethren, you are actually witnessing the rebirth of a genre in the form of someone who appears genuine in her self-confidence and lack thereof, her vulnerability as a young star, her passion for hedonism...and her willingness to admit her weaknesses.
See, what I got from listening to L.G.'s music over and over again was an open mind and the ability to release myself a bit from a self-imposed Victorian sensibility that bothers even me. I am someone who likes things to be right because they are supposed to be. I need no other reason to criticize someone than because what they say and/or do violates the natural order of things. I have an exceptionally strong distaste for people who break the rules. Granted, I like to break rules myself - but not the ones I see as universal.
An example: I hate when I send out invitations for something and no one RSVPs. Yes, it's a little rude and yes, it creates some confusion for me. But even more importantly, that's what RSVPs are FOR! It bothers me to no end that people do not use the cards for their intended purpose. This neglect ruins the order of things - why have RSVPs if no one is going to use them?!
Similarly, for weeks after receiving the L.G. CDs, I wouldn't let myself listen to them because in a weird way, I am a prim and proper gal with prim and proper ideas. I dislike people who are shameless about who they offend and how they portray themselves. It bothers me when I believe that someone has no self-respect because isn't that what makes humans different from animals, after all?
In fact, though, there are different kinds of self-respect. What I have found by repeatedly listening to and analyzing L.G.'s music is that the universe doesn't always need order. Sometimes it's okay to break outside your comfort zone and be a little bold. And anyway, who am I to judge?
The truth is that I judge myself as harshly as I judge others, and it's completely counter-productive. So thank you, Lady Gaga, for showing me the light.
However, I do not expect to change completely. I still don't like Snookie and I still think she's an overtanned troll who went crazy with the Bump-It.
The end.
t.
I'm not a diehard fan, but I have a healthy respect for the young lass with a seemingly endless supply of freakish headgear. I don't find her particularly beautiful, although I'm pretty sure I'd sell at least half my soul to have a body like hers. No, she is not attractive to me in the typical sense. But she does have an attractive energy and sense of self.
Why am I thinking about this just now?
Well, this morning I was listening to my daily dose of Preston & Steve and they were discussing the forthcoming Vanity Fair article about L.G. Since MMR is most definitely NOT a pop station, they were a little critical of her, especially the whole quote about losing creativity through sex. They drew the very common comparison between her and Madonna and went on to discuss the crazy head accoutrements she's fond of wearing. It made me think...and here's the conclusion I arrived at.
Lady Gaga is a symbol. Sure, on the surface she represents the sort of standard drug- and sex-infused pop music with which our radio stations seem to be disturbingly preoccupied. But if you listen closely, you see and hear more. Rather than a mindless repeat of the earlier superstardom enjoyed by the likes of Madonna and her brethren, you are actually witnessing the rebirth of a genre in the form of someone who appears genuine in her self-confidence and lack thereof, her vulnerability as a young star, her passion for hedonism...and her willingness to admit her weaknesses.
See, what I got from listening to L.G.'s music over and over again was an open mind and the ability to release myself a bit from a self-imposed Victorian sensibility that bothers even me. I am someone who likes things to be right because they are supposed to be. I need no other reason to criticize someone than because what they say and/or do violates the natural order of things. I have an exceptionally strong distaste for people who break the rules. Granted, I like to break rules myself - but not the ones I see as universal.
An example: I hate when I send out invitations for something and no one RSVPs. Yes, it's a little rude and yes, it creates some confusion for me. But even more importantly, that's what RSVPs are FOR! It bothers me to no end that people do not use the cards for their intended purpose. This neglect ruins the order of things - why have RSVPs if no one is going to use them?!
Similarly, for weeks after receiving the L.G. CDs, I wouldn't let myself listen to them because in a weird way, I am a prim and proper gal with prim and proper ideas. I dislike people who are shameless about who they offend and how they portray themselves. It bothers me when I believe that someone has no self-respect because isn't that what makes humans different from animals, after all?
In fact, though, there are different kinds of self-respect. What I have found by repeatedly listening to and analyzing L.G.'s music is that the universe doesn't always need order. Sometimes it's okay to break outside your comfort zone and be a little bold. And anyway, who am I to judge?
The truth is that I judge myself as harshly as I judge others, and it's completely counter-productive. So thank you, Lady Gaga, for showing me the light.
However, I do not expect to change completely. I still don't like Snookie and I still think she's an overtanned troll who went crazy with the Bump-It.
The end.
t.
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