"Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts" - Ingrid Michaelson

*Dear blog skimmers: here is a quick synopsis.
I went to my mom's crazy doctor today.
The end.




Something you should know about my mom is that she has been sick my whole life. Thus, a lot of her eccentricities can be traced back to her health. Usually we'd ignore her odd food choices or excessive vitamin intake and go on stuffing our faces full of pasteurized milk, excessive amounts of meat, and all the processed food we found appetizing. Year after year she'd find a new book describing some new diet that was healthier than the last one, and she'd give it a go. It seemed that every diet was a failure and every new book was another contradiction.
And sure, we've all tried diets have we not? Eat this and not that, blah blah blah. But we'd all take our 15 min breaks with a slice of cake, or a soda, convincing ourselves that it wasn't so bad and we'd make up for it for eating more spinach tomorrow.
This pattern lasted until my dad was diagnosed with cancer, and my mom wasn't getting any better; rather, her symptoms were slowly worsening. My parent's dedication to search out the best of cancer hospitals began as well as the best of health advice, including diets. My mom at this point had realized the benefits of holistic medicine, and the search for medicinal "truth" as it were, only became more important as it wasn't just my mom anymore, it was my dad. It was my grandma who had been given "The Shaft" (aka: premature death, for the lack of space, time, and your attention span) in her Florida hospital, and it was our countless numbers of friends' horror stories we'd hear at least weekly about how so-and-so was given the wrong medication and now they're diabetic, or how what's-her-face was another victim of a surgical mistake and is now blind. To make a long story short, my contumacious mother has transformed into a practicing advocate of what some would call voodoo witch-doctory. Or maybe that's just me. Out of all the kids, I am definitely the most skeptical of all the shenanigans, calling normal doctors sorcerers, idiots, schemers, etc. I just have a hard time believing that the whole system is corrupt, and that holistic/homeopathic doctors are the only ones who really know what they're doing.

Now let's skip to the good part.

Today's first assignment was to visit my mom's n-th doctor, Dr. Nunier (pronounced Noon-ee-yay. Add a French accent and you're a pro) up in Indiana. Paul and I arrive and he goes in first. After 45 min of waiting for Paul, I'm slightly peeved because I had to wake up early to sit in a waiting room. At least they had a radio. He comes out with a big grin on his face, buddy-buddying it up with Dr. Nunier, and I'm wondering what "feel good medicine" they gave him. Doc looks normal enough; white, round, balding man in mid-40's. Nothing too fancy. The story would only be better if he were a stubby Chinese man, but that's not the point.
Now it's my turn with Dr. Nunier. I go in, and the receptionist hooks me up to this vitals monitor that is a strap which wraps around my body, right under my bra line. I have to lie down for 5 min and then stand for 5 min. The only thing I saw on the computer that made any sense were the words, "Patient...in normal range." Normal is good. I'm good. Then Dr. Nunier comes in and goes over my chart. We sit in silence for a minute or so.
"I can already tell your adrenal glands are messed up."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"It says here you like to sleep a lot. I bet you hate waking up, no matter what time you go to bed, too."
"Um, actually, yes, that's exactly how I feel. I hate it. And I have to have at least 10 hours or I feel worthless."
"Well, there is probably more going on. You have acne and a history of an ovarian cyst, so I'm guessing your hormones in general are out of wack. I'm going to do a series of tests on you, based on ancient Chinese acupuncture pressure points, and this will give me an accurate, very precise reading of what is going on inside your body."
And he has me lie down on the table on my back.
"Raise your right arm for me, Martha."
I raise it.
"I'm going to push your arm down slightly and I want you to resist it. Let's do a test. Good, just like that. Ok, I'm going to press on several spots on your body. Your arm will lock in place just like that unless there is a problem with one of your organs. If I push on a pressure point and your arm does not lock, it means there's a problem."
Is this guy for real? Come on. I can make my arm stay in place if I want it to. He's barely touching me. He starts with my head, and then to my shoulders, back and down to my waist. Everything is fine, my arm is locking like he showed me it would. He put his hand below my left rib cage and suddenly my arm went weak. What the freak? I pushed harder.
"I can tell you're exerting more effort because your arm is going up. You see how your arm isn't steady anymore?"
"I swear I feel like I can make it stay--" and in unison we both said, "but I can't."
"That spot means your pancreas is weak. Let's see where else needs help."
He pushes on my lower abdomen and my arm is weak again. I see him close his eyes and test my arm again and then hear a slight grunt. He pushes even lower and again, my arm goes weak.
"What does it mean, doc?"
"Those last 2 spots were your ovaries and uterus. What we need to do now is find out which one is priority. Stick your middle finger in your thumb joint like this. Good. We're going to test which one is weakest."
He tests all 3 spots.
"See how your arm got stronger on those 2 areas? Your ovaries are still weak, which mean they are priority."
"Sooooo what does that mean?"
"It means your hormones are messed up."
"Well, I am on birth control."
"That will be part of it, yes. I'm sure whoever prescribed that for you had the intention to make your system right, since birth control does help in clearing acne. So, it's possible you may be more balanced now, but we won't know until we do some hormone tests. You see, hormones are very powerful chemicals. We measure them in pikagrams, which is like a drop of water in 6 train cars of water. Birth control is measured is milligrams. Talk about throwing your whole system off even more than it already is."
"Hmm...so what do I do? I love birth control. It makes everything better."
"There are healthier ways to make everything better, and once we get an idea of where you're at, we'll talk about what to do to get better."
He moves over to a wall of numbered bottles. There are over 50 of them. He opens up a drawer full of videotape cases. He brings out a few and places them on my legs. He does the arm test for my ovaries again. My arm is still weak, and I still can't believe it. He does this a few times with the cases, and I finally look down to see they're all full of 30+ vials full of different clear fluids.
"Did you turn videotape cases into vial holders? What are you doing now?"
"Yes, I did. If your body comes in contact with a substance, it will immediately know if it's good for you. I'm trying to find out what minerals your body needs."
What the freak?! "Um, how does my body know what substances it needs? Those are all in glass jars and they're resting on my leg."
"Everything gives off energy, Martha, this chair, these minerals, your body, everything. Your body has what's called Meridians of energy, and the whole point of acupuncture is to re-balance those meridians. When you're sick, your body's energy is thrown off, and it can sense certain minerals that will restore its balance. My task right now is to find out which minerals will help you. All of these bottles are good and healthy, but only some will be healthy for you." As he is talking, he is continually placing one bottle at a time on my leg and doing the arm test. After a few bottles, suddenly my arm locks.
"Whoa, my arm is locking!"
"Yes, I can feel it too." He switches out a few more bottles. Another bottle causes my arm to lock. He takes it off and my arm is weak. He tests it again. And again. And at this point, I am a believer.
"You see when I add 3 bottles, your pancreas and uterus are stronger too?"
"Yeah...weird."
"Well, I want you to do a saliva test once you get back to Utah, which is how we test your hormones. You'll send them off to a lab in Seattle and they'll send me the results. For now, I want you to take this paper and write down everything you eat for the next 4 days, and we'll figure out what you need in your diet."
"Dr. Nunier...honestly, how did you get into this? Did you have a Chinese grandpa or something?"
He chuckles, "No, actually, I was at a continuing education seminar." He puts his papers down and looks me square in the eye and says, "I read 2-3 articles a day. I read about 5 books a year. I take pride in keeping up with new literature, new studies, you name it. When I signed up for this seminar, I had no idea what I should expect. I sit down and the guy on stage is doing this to people from the audience. No one in that audience was more skeptical than me. The first thing I thought was, 'This is why chiropractors have a bad name.' I raised my hand to go up just so I could show everyone how hokey this all was. And then the guy nails exactly everything that I knew was wrong with me, and he didn't know me from Adam. And I couldn't keep my arm locked either."

Maybe I'm not ready to throw out the whole Western philosophy of medicine, but I can tell you I'm a believer in Dr. Nunier.

"There were planes to catch and bills to pay" - Harry Chapin

I'm sitting there in my window seat right above the wing, staring at the flaps, watching it go through all the pre-flight tests, and imagining those hundreds of bolts popping out mid-flight, piercing my window and penetrating everyone on the plane. My arms, legs, and torso are useless and gushing blood, but that's not why I die; I die because of the bolt that crushed my windpipe and I choke to death on the bone splinters and consequential lack of air. Then memories of my dad sitting next to my 8 yr-old self is pointing out every mechanical detail of the wing and other airplane processes that a kid my age shouldn't be able to understand. Our noses are practically smashed against that tiny window, barely catching a glimpse of the engines that my dad has described to me at least 3 times previous.
"Dad, what happens if something breaks?"
He chuckles and says, "Martha, it won't. It's my job to make sure it doesn't."
And that's why up until I was about 17, all I knew about my dad's job was that "he fixes planes."
"Is he a mechanic?" I would get asked this a lot by adults.
"No...an engineer." At this point I'd get a shrug and I'd shrug back.
The image of a UPS airplane calendar comes to mind, specifically the 15 or so identical ones he has given me over the years and how I've had one on my bedroom wall since I can remember. They're probably the most boring calendars one could ever have since every airplane looks exactly the same to the untrained eye, and the sky can only be so many shades of blue, but hey...at least I knew the date.

 Every month had a version of this picture. We still make fun of my dad for thinking they were cool to this day.

I feel Paul squirming beside me and I realize the flight attendant is trying to get my attention to tell me to turn off my ipod.
"Oh yeah...my b-"
"Yeah, electronic devices need to be off. Ipods are electronic. I was just saying that over the loudspeaker." And she gives me the squinty face of disappointment.
She leaves, and Paul is doing his silent giggle thing.
"Um, did she...yeah, she did. She just mocked me. A personnel of Southwest just mocked a Southwest customer. Look! She didn't mock that older gentleman for not turning off his crap. That's it. Southwest is getting a nasty letter from me when I land about age discrimination."
Paul is still laughing, and now I am too. He turns to me and says with more nostalgia than I ever expect from him, "I always get Cran-Apple juice now. That's what Dad use to get. Remember when we'd get Ginger ale every time?"
"Funny, I always order tomato juice with no ice now. There is nothing better coupled with a good book. And if I had glasses, I'd wear them. And they'd be black rimmed." He's looking me up and down, noticing my black shirt, dark blue jeans and tousled hair. "Don't judge me," is all I could say.

And then Highway to Hell by AC/DC comes on my playlist which I had defiantly not turned off, and I ask him, "Paul, if you had a vision right now, about how you were going to die on this plane today, what song would you want to listen to?"
He says with a grin, "That one we listened to earlier--Cats in the Cradle." 
"Really? Paul, I will never understand you." We giggled silently, and I paused.
 I flashback to one day when my mom had picked me up from school. I'm sitting in the front seat, staring out the window at the colored leaves on the trees and the clouds that seemed to be getting darker every few minutes.
"Is dad gone again?"
"Yes, I just dropped him off at the airport. He'll be back from Seattle in a few days."
"What happens if his plane gets struck by lightening and crashes?"
"Well...at least he died doing what he loves most--flying."

I turn back to Paul and say, "Well, I figure if we're going down...might as well go down dancin'."

"This bullet in my chest is burning" - Dave Alvin

I met this kid last night - so funny (i.e. this post).

Why can't I meet people like this girl in real life? I think my hand would be raised in a second to ask her how she connects race with sexual diseases. That, or I'd stop paying attention right away and instead draw a cartoon of her having herpes all over her body with a parrot on her shoulder.
Oh, if only I had a scanner.

Also, I saw these movies this week:
Redbelt = epic. It's about fighting, but there aren't that many fight scenes. It's morally charged and the characters are well done. The dialogue is pretty awesome, and Randy Couture is in it. Can't get much better for cameos.

eXistenZ = craziest, trippy movie I've seen to date. And for the record, the trailer makes the movie seem hyper sexual, which it isn't. At all. In fact, I'm a little disappointed. If you're looking for a creepy movie this Halloween to give you that icky feeling, this is no doubt the one.

On my playlist this week:
King of California. I love this song right now. Dave Alvin has a superb voice, and his guitar skeelz make me weak. 

"You haunt my dreams" - Telepopmusik

Today while driving the Alpine Loop with some friends, I passed Sundance, which made me really reminiscent of last winter and excited for the future blizzards that will soon hit this valley.

So this post is dedicated to my future snowboard. And future snowboard career.

I'd highly recommend watching the Tech Videos. They will give you reasons why you should purchase a Ride board. 

I love Ride, and I'm not really sure why. It's not because I have tons of experience testing out each brand. I guess I like their style and so far, my experience with their stuff has proven good quality. I did, however, rip my pants from last year. But whatever.
I think I want this jacket:

And these pants. (This is the only website that shows the color I want: click on Black Recycled.)

Besides, Laurie Currier, this year's pro rookie Rail Jam 1st place winner with best trick, reps Ride. And I definitely want to ride what pros are riding. I am just that original.
Here is the video of her doing best girl's trick:




Here is one of her home videos:


mt high by Laurie Currier -                  More related videos from Asterpix


Will I ever be this good? Only time will tell. I've made a pact with myself to go crazy this year, forget about getting hurt, and loosen the freak up. Plus, with this whole no-homework thing and being done with work at 4-5 PM every day with Sundance doing night skiing this year...practice time will be tripled.

Also, I'm convinced I would be best friends with every one of these girls. Is there still hope for me to become a pro-snowboarder?




Now, I should mention something about skiing. Yes, it's what I grew up doing, and I love it. It will always be my first passion. However, last year was dedicated to skiing. This year will be snowboarding. I'm thinking every other year I'll focus on one of the two. Gotta keep up both skills, I say.


PS. Has anyone heard of snow kiting? A girl at my work says it's a relatively new snow sport. She's from Utah, grew up skiing/snowboarding, it really good at it, and says this is hands down way more fun. Since it's so new, she says the sport has little to no girls involved. And her friends will apparently teach girls for free. And yes, I will be taking them up on that offer. I mean, does that video not look like so much fun?!

Your featured song for this post is techno. This one is on my snowboarding playlist.


Just Breathe - Telepopmusic

"A moment, a love, a dream, a laugh, a kiss, a cry" - Temper Trap

You know how sometimes you read something that explains feelings you never knew how to express?

Andy pretty much does that all the time.

Read this. 

I dare your inner romantic not to burst out in tears of joy and relief that someone has finally portrayed this event in words worthy enough to behold these expressions. Because, yes, I have felt this way before. I have wished for some way that time could stop, that the sun would not rise, that the night would continue, so I could hold and be with someone I cared about for longer; to feel their chest rise and fall, to hear their breathing, to feel their twitching, to be wrapped in the arms of someone else who just might care about your life as you care about theirs. I've been there wanting to know so desperately what the other is thinking and praying to God that he feels the same way.

Consider this post a Tribute of Honor to you Andy. Thank you for being so emotionally intelligent, so genuine in your efforts to live an honest life. You amaze me and others, I know.

"We all got wood and nails" - Brand New

Please, correct me if I'm wrong.

But I think I may be the only one who associates songs and playlists to the extreme that I do.



Linda Rhonstadt - Desperado
= My dad singing in the kitchen in his falsetto voice chopping up vegetables for the salad. Most of the time when he sings, it's in his falsetto voice to mimic whatever lady singer he's listening to, most likely Celine Dion, Linda Rhonstadt, Charlotte Church, or Patsy Cline. He also tends to dance around sometimes, much like Forrest Gump does when Jenny comes to visit him at his house to that CCR song in the living room.

Elton John - Rocket Man
= Jordan Alford thinking Stewie's performance of this song was the funniest thing he'd ever seen on Family Guy. I didn't get it.

Biz Markie - Just a Friend
= 2009 NBA Finals. Lights off in my room. Large Papa John's pepperoni pizza and warm Countrymaid strawberry lemonade. The door's propped open and it's raining outside. Kissing during commercials. "This is like...my dream."

Brand New - Jesus Christ
= My coping mechanism for culture shock while in Japan. As I was about to serve a mission, this also addressed every religious doubt I had ever experienced, and was glad to recognize I haven't looked back. This song encompassed every question I wanted to answer for my investigators. This was also the song I would turn up in my headphones when Meg Holmberg (now Ballard) and Cole Ballard would be talking on Skype in the "hallway" of our 10 ft. apartment.

Led Zeppelin - Rain Song
= Alex's room. I'm falling asleep on his bed, he's playing the guitar in his chair. Maybe because it's raining outside, probably because it's his favorite to play on the guitar. He thinks I'm not listening to every note with utter delight. I'm afraid to show I care. A lot. There was hope for the future then. I regret not knowing the lyrics at the time.

Joshua Radin - Friend Like You.
= Keaton Jolley on the phone close to 4 AM East coast time this summer. Emily left and Alex broke it off. All we had were words and memories and each other's voices for comfort.

Fuel - Hemorrhage
= Derrick, a cute boy from EFY in Georgia when I was 14 who said this was his favorite song. He was tall, black hair, total punk in every sense of the word. Horrible slow dancer and very sweaty. I thought I was in love. What can I say, my standards were lower back then.

Spice Girls - Wannabe
= 5 best friends, spanning the ages 9-12, jumping on mattresses in Kate Wakeling's screened-in back porch. Singing at the top of our lungs to a cassette tape which had this song recorded from the radio, I was designated Baby Spice because I was the blonde. I really just wanted to be Scary Spice. This is the first memory I trace back to me wanting to be black.



I think maybe this is my brain overcompensating for the fact that I can't remember my life in most other situations. But turn on the playlist called 90s Glory Hits and suddenly I can remember every detail of 6th grade, driving back and forth from Portland Christian, every timed mile in cross country practice, that spelling bee I was 1 word away from beating reigning class champion.
Turn on the playlist called May and there appears the trip to Angel's Landing, every encouragement, every disappointment, every kiss, every thing you didn't say.

October is still in the making. So far it's 1 random birthday mix of 19 sad love songs, acoustic mostly, some Regina Spektor, and Lyle Lovett. I don't like the sound of it yet, honestly. It needs something more...upbeat. Refreshing. Vigorous. Passionate. Sounds of emotions that need to be a part of me again.

I can't wait to see what November and December will sound like. With any luck, they'll sound more like what October should.

"I feel silly, selfish and dizzy" - Passion Pit

Upon reflecting back on this morning's event, only two words come to mind: farcical phenomenon.

But first, you should know I started setting my alarm about 20 min before I actually should wake up. I guess I enjoy hitting the snooze button exactly 4 times before I have to get up. It's like when it first goes off, I know I have 20 more minutes of sleeping. Weird, I know.

So today.
I do my normal routine. However, this time I turned my phone off instead of hitting snooze, a tricky maneuver when you're dead tired with one eye half open. (I can't tell you how many times I've slept in because of that one unfavorable push of the wrong button.) So of course I'm laying there sleeping, dreaming I'm awake (another very bad trick my body plays on me at times) when I hear extremely loud scratching on my window that is right next to my bed, about a foot south of my head. I immediately jumped up, my palms are already sweaty, and I'm wide awake. Accompanying this horrible scratching is a constant thud sound and then a high pitched squeal. It took me about 1 minute before I realized A BAT WAS BANGING ON MY WINDOW at 9:00 AM this morning. A BAT. I never see the creatures around here, much less in the AM hours, and even more rare AT MY WINDOW. He disappeared and then came back again, this time banging on my window for even longer.
*jaw drop
I mean really, people. Birds and bats do not just bang their bodies against random windows, ones that are clearly opaque (my blinds were shut) during their sleeping hours. 
That's when I realized that my phone alarm was off.
And that's when I thanked Heavenly Father.



***Readers, take note:
It has come to my attention that a lot of you were/are unaware that each post has a link to the song I quote as the title. Just in case you didn't get catch on, I'm making it explicit now. 

So, in honor of seeing Passion Pit in concert last week, which words cannot express how impressed I was, I will give you a song to listen to and love. If you're into love songs right now, you'll like it. This is probably the only love song I like right now, as the cynic in me has more or less taken over. It's a touch sad, a touch dreamy, and altogether realistic. I think I like this song best because I can picture the cartoon version of myself walking down the street to that excellent beat with just enough bounce in my step to call it a "swagger," swinging my arms, nodding my head, giving people the thumbs up because I just met the next boy who will sweep me off my feet...life is pretty cool when you're a cartoon. And just know that this song, while amazing recorded is about 10 times better performed live by a beautiful man with his beautiful falsetto voice.

*sigh

"I live every day like it's the First of October..." - M.I.A. feat Blaqstar

Paper Planes is my jam for that one line alone.

Well, I was running out of ideas to celebrate my birthday--23 times is a lot (not really)--but alas, I came up with one more plan.

Let's see...today's agenda:
1) Sleep in.
2) Pick up package at UPS from my parents.
3) Go to Nordstrom Rack with Paige.
4) Gather banana split makings.
5) Have a splendid get together, perfect because of the combination of my favorite dessert and some of my favorite people :)
6) "Wind down."
7) Sleep.

...all in a day's work.