Happy Halloween!

Halloween Costume Circa 1910

And one more, from one of my favorite movies:

see more Lol Celebs

You Should Read This Book

Favorite Quote: 

“I won’t have a normal relationship. That’s not who I am.”
“Of course not.”
“I won’t be dragged down to what other people do.”

Any More Questions?

Bloody

Over the weekend, Justin and I watched a lot of movies. Probably more in 4 days than I've seen in the entire past year combined. One of those movies was The Backup Plan. Romantic comedy drivel, Jennifer Lopez, mediocre acting blah de blah, I know. That's the kind of movie I like at 3am, go on, judge.

Moving on to the point of this post. If you're unfamiliar with the plot, a 30 year old woman, having given up on the dream of the nuclear family, decides to get pregnant via a sperm donor on her own. Upon leaving the clinic, happily inseminated, she meets a guy, you can figure out the rest of the story. The thing that makes this particular movie notable, at least in my world, is the fact that during her first ultrasound post-insemination, the doctor checks her, and his glove is bloody when he removes it. Then, when he uses the trans-vaginal ultrasound wand, it too comes out bloody. I know, at this point I've lost half my audience, and at least another quarter of you are feeling a bit woozy. Stick with me.

There are a couple of reasons that I like this. (Not counting the fact that I particularly enjoy blood in clinical settings.) 1. It will hopefully make people realize that a little bleeding during pregnancy is normal. Maybe that will prevent so many people from marching up to L&D the moment they have a bit of pink on their toilet paper. 2. It normalizes vaginal bleeding in general. Historically, this has been completley NOT DONE in the film industry. Whether it's a girl starting her period or a woman losing a pregnancy, the blood is always implied, but never really talked about and certainly not shown. That's the sort of behavior that makes people freak out over every little spot in their panties. We have no problem with blood in general, even massive, obscene amounts of it. Check out any Quentin Tarantino movie, if you don't believe me. The freak out, need-to-hide mentality only comes in reference to blood from the lady bits. So thank you CBS Films, Escape Entertainment and Jennifer Lopez for showing the world that whether it's from a nose, a gunshot wound, or a vagina, blood is just blood.

Young Turks

I never really thought that Rod Stewart lyrics would speak to me, but there it is. Weird stuff happens at 5am when you've had no sleep.

Young hearts be free tonight. Time is on your side,

Don't let them put you down, don't let 'em push you around,

Don't let 'em ever change your point of view.

Ahh, teenage rebellion at it's best.

(Well, except for the stuff that Bon Jovi sings about. That might be better.)



Updates to the Life List

I realized that it's probably time to take a look at my Life List and see where I am. There are a few things I also want to add.

Develop a signature style--Almost there...
Go to a fancy spa and get the works
Visit the Winchester Mystery House
Get perfect porcelain veneers
Work on a political campaign
Find just the right perfume
Learn to like coffee
Live through a moment when real history is made
Take my nieces to Europe
See Willie Nelson in concert
Win a hand of Blackjack in Vegas
Learn to make activated charcoal soap
Live in a blue state
Attend Carnaval in Brazil
Bask in the sun on a beautiful beach
Have a drink named after me
Direct a musical
Own a professional grade camera
Learn to take really good pictures
Learn to make Nan's cherry cobbler
Have a llama and a donkey as pets
Learn to make margaritas from scratch
Go on a real honeymoon
Throw a rockin' Halloween party
Personalize my own nail polish color It's called "Naked Fairy!"
Go to Disneyland
Go to the Tony awards
Hit 50 thousand visitors on my blog
Sing karaoke
Ice skate in Rockefeller Center
Go one full year without falling down
Develop my digital photos
Own a Mac, see what the fuss is about
Get a professional bikini wax 
Read all of Ovid's Metamorphoses
Own a hybrid (or fully electric) vehicle
Visit Monaco
Hold hands with Neil Patrick Harris 
Start a collection Magic wands!
Purchase designer sunglasses
Avoid losing designer sunglasses 1 full year!
Learn about my great-grandparents
Visit Salem at Halloween
See the Birth of a Baby
Live in France for a year
Learn to make a really fancy dessert
Host a holiday dinner at my house
Catch Fireflies in a Jar
Learn to pair wine with food
Have a fabulous 30th birthday party
Sit in on an autopsy
Sit on a jury

Smack

I don't believe in spanking (a very unpopular opinion in this area). That's not really what this post is about, but it is related, so I'll just come out and say it. Psychiatrists agree. Spanking children is an ineffective punishment that does more harm than good. It's hypocritical to tell a child "don't hit," and then hit him. I realize that there's a difference between "regular" spanking and abuse, and I don't judge the parents who choose it as punishment. It's just not for me. Luckily, I don't/won't have children.

 Moving on. When I was teaching regularly at the high school here, students who were in trouble for one reason or another were given a choice between detention and "swats." Invariably, they chose swats. Teenagers have stuff to do. Detention takes at least an hour after school; Swats take only a few minutes. The thing is, I'm pretty sure that spanking isn't an appropriate punishment for teenagers. If a person can:

1. Drive

2. Get Pregnant/get someone pregnant

or

3. Work for a paycheck

spanking is assault. One adult cannot tell another person who is, for all intents and purposes also an adult, to bend over so that they can whack them across the ass. Unless, you know, they're in a very specific kind of relationship. When the people in question are a middle aged man and a comely teenage girl, the situation is practically the opening scene for cheap pornography. Perhaps someone should mention that to the school district.

{Editor's Note: I am not saying that anything inappropriate is going on in this school district. No one has ever breathed a word about any kind of sexual misconduct, as far as I know. The staff and administration are excellent at their jobs, and generally good people. I just think that they should look into what could possibly be assumed by those with less wholesome intentions and perhaps reconsider their position on corporal punishment, at least for those over the age of 10.}

Head*Desk

How does anyone ever know what the right thing to do is? How do you know if you're jumping off a cliff for  the right reasons or just for the sake of jumping? If you choose to stay grounded (there's a reason that's a word for punishment), how do you know if it's because it's the right thing to do, or just a reaction to fear and/or complacency?  I don't want to be complacent. I don't want to make a mistake either.

Where the hell are comfort foods when you need them?

Just got back from sunny (and it was) California. Glad to be sleeping in my bed again. Less glad to note that the washer is still broken. Must do something about that. I'm scared of the laundromat.

I'll be 30 in 8 months. Crap.

On This Episode of Magic Schoolbus

We explore what goes on in the brain of a man when he notices a sink full of dirty dishes. Let's board the bus and see what we find!

**Magical Noises**

Teacher: Here we are! Wow, look at all the storage space devoted to football...
Man Brain: Oh the sink is full. Maybe I'll help out by washing some of these dishes!
Teacher: Wow, initiative! I'm so impressed!
Man Brain: Let's see, I'll wash this cutting board, tea pitcher, microwave plate and...colander!

**Scrub**Scrub**Scrub**

Man Brain: Oh! The drainer is already full! That didn't take long at all. I don't know what Wife is always complaining about. She must just be lazy.

Teacher: Hmm...that might not be such a good example to follow boys & girls.

Man Brain: My turn with the dishes is over. Wife can wash these 300 plates, glasses, silverware, pots and pans. I've clearly done my part. Maybe I'll even get a special prize for my contribution!

Teacher: Ok kids, lesson over. Next week we'll learn all about the inner workings of bad drivers!

Auto-Correct, You're Making Me Look Bad!

Yesterday after work, I hung around the hospital for awhile to get my yearly TB test and my (every 10 years)  DTaP booster. Naturally, the world being what it is, I posted what I was doing to Facebook from my phone. Now the whole wide world thinks that I think the abbreviation for tuberculosis is TV,as opposed to TB. Shameful.  Or perhaps they think that I'm running some sort of diagnostic on my television. Which would make sense, as it's the only electronic in my house that hasn't decided to sigh deeply and die this month. Anyway, I'm going to have to give Auto-Correct a formal counselling. (That's what they call it at work when I get in trouble for something. Not that I have.)

Auto-Correct, you've come in handy in lots of cases. Particularly when I'm trying to quickly text while stopped at a red light. You always know that my garble of random letters is actually supposed to mean dinner, or groceries or pretty much anything besides cgeeklw. And for that, I'm grateful. I am not, however, as proud of your performance concerning actual words that you just don't know. For example, it's not funny to change "haha!" to "hats!" without some kind of warning. Ok, well it was funny the first time, but not after that. And sure, it was hilarious when you changed Dick Cheney to Anal Cheney, but not when I'm trying to be serious! I guess what I mean to say is, check with me before you try your clever little tricks on my FaceBook page. And especially give a little warning when I'm texting my mother. The version of TB test that she got read "TV tits," and, well, she was not exactly amused. In short, stop getting me in trouble!

There now, I feel much better.

A Series of Wrong Answers

Me: Do you think I'm crazy?
Him: (a little too quickly) Well, yeah!

Me: Do you like these new (slightly too big, boy-cut) panties?
Him: Yeah....they're kind of tight.  (rude and untrue!)

Me: Do you want to (whatever)?
Him: Not really, but I will. (And thus begins the "I want you to want to" fight.)

Sigh. Why do guys always get the wrong version of the script?

Excuse the Mess!

I'm working on a new look for fall.

Struggle & Gag

'm always going to struggle with depression, anxiety and a dash of mania. That's just how it is. It's probably been this way for half my life, but as a teenager, people expect you to act crazy, so nobody really noticed. For about a year now, I've been relatively stable. My (amazing) doctor and I finally found something that kept me level without turning me into a zombie. And then my (evil) insurance company decided that they'd rather not pay for something that was working so well, and we had to look for something else.

In the beginning, the something else was kind of iffy. I felt seriously over-medicated, I had to take it twice a day, which was problematic since my sleep schedule varies. I'm not a very good pill taker, and these pills were particularly awful; bitter and uncoated they'd get stuck in my throat and make me gag for what felt like hours. I had piles of side effects: Nausea and headaches and jumpiness and bruxism. My dreams became increasingly intense, and for a time, I couldn't tell what was real, and what had just occurred in my head while I was sleeping. All of these things are typical with medications for psychological illnesses, so I toughed it out and eventually, most of those things passed and I felt good again.

Then, the (evil) insurance company decided (with no warning) to make me stop filling my prescription at the local pharmacy. Instead, they required that I order it 3 months at a time through their mail order pharmacy. Which would have been fine, except they told me that when I only had 2 days worth of pills left. They grudgingly decided that I could have one more month of pills from CVS. I filled that prescription and had my (amazing) doctor fax the script to the mail order pharmacy. Weeks went by. My order was "in process." This week, I, once again, was down to 3 pills. I split the pills, and cut my daily dose in half. A terrible idea, but better than being completely without for several days. Withdrawal from this particular pill isn't exactly a joy ride. Even on a half dose, I had skyrocketing blood pressure, black spots in my vision, shakiness, fatigue, hallucinations, nightmares. Most of the time, it was ok, but towards the end of the day, when it was close to time for my next (half) dose, the parade of withdrawal symptoms marched by. (Conveniently this usually started on my drive home in the morning. Nothing to keep you wide awake like thinking that there might be a cow wandering in front of your car.)

I called the mail order pharmacy, and they told me that it would take a little more time, could I please request an emergency 10 day supply from the local pharmacy (that they'd really prefer I not use). Ok, except that since Mail Order Pharmacy had already begun processing my order, (evil) insurance wouldn't cover the cost of the emergency pills. Something about the word emergency apparently made them think that my drugs were elective, and therefore not worthy of coverage. My new prescription is for half the dose that I was previously taking. However, it's the same dose that I've been on since I started cutting my remaining pills in half to stretch them. The new pills are extended release, so I shouldn't have a big crazy crash every 12 hours. Because it's still half the dose I was on before, the withdrawal will probably go on for a few more days, but it seems to be getting better. I suppose it's a good thing that I started tapering off on my own early in the week.

The good news is I'll probably be able to laugh more, actually cry at sappy movies again, and the hungover, super-medicated feeling that I've been experiencing every morning should go away. We'll see. If it looks like there's going to be too much crazy and not enough normal, we'll bump the dose up to the old one, but keep it extended release.

Also, the XR pills are coated, tablet shaped, and taste vaguely of mint. There's no more gagging. Everyone in the house is grateful for that.

I'm Sure this Sounds Callous.

I'm feeling sort of conflicted about the whole Phoebe Prince thing. My opinions on the matter seem to be in direct opposition to what I'd like to think I believe, but since I believe what I'm going to say here, they must not be.

1. Nobody kills themselves soley because they're bullied. Depression is a disease. Suicide comes when that disease is untreated, poorly treated or just too bad to fix. It's like cancer. Phoebe Prince had a history of depression. She'd attempted suicide at least once before the bullying began, and was a cutter (which, in case you aren't aware, isn't the same thing at all as attempted suicide). Phoebe missed her father, who stayed in Ireland after her parents' divorce. There were a lot of factors at play here besides some mean kids. I think that to say that she killed herself because of the bullying makes it seem like her depression is less of a factor. It makes it taken less seriously as an illness, and that isn't good for anyone.

2. The mean kids weren't all that mean. Some names were called, to her face and on Facebook/Twitter/passed notes. (I read the full report, so don't anybody jump on me about how I don't know how bad it was.) Slut, cunt, bitch, whore, nothing that unusual, particularly since the girls doing most of the name calling were jealous that Phoebe had hooked up with their boyfriends while they were "on a break." It's standard teenage drama. And yeah, she was probably upset about it, who wouldn't be? However, none of those names seem cruel enough, on their own, to drive someone over the edge. Even a fragile teenager. And ok, one girl threw an (empty) soda can at her from a car window. She's been charged with "assault with a deadly weapon." What the hell? Exactly how hard did she throw that can? An empty aluminum can weighs about .05 ounces. It would have to have been tossed off by a rocket launcher or something equally impressive to have caused any actual harm to anyone. Assault? Sure, but not with a deadly weapon, to say the least the packet of ranch dressing that came with my salad would have made more of an impact. I understand the need to for schools and communities to take a tougher stand on bullying, but the DA in this case is clearly trying to make an example of these kids (along with a name for herself), and that seems unfair. What they did was crappy and wrong, but suspend them from school. Take away their cars, ground them for the summer. Hell, ground them until they're married, but don't send them to jail for 10 years. That's just ridiculous, and it isn't going to help anyone.

3. Bullying is (sort of) protected under the First Amendment. The things the teens said at school can (and should have) been dealt with by the administration. None of them made any threats, so it doesn't count as assault. Technically, they could be charged with misdemeanor harrassment, but the trouble didn't even go on long enough for it to seep over into the felony category. Once again, the kids were assholes, not criminals. If we start prosecuting every kid that says something mean or snarky to somebody at school or online, where will it stop? They'd have to shut down FoxNews all together, not to mention arrest every politician that ever ran a smear ad. With the exception of my friend Amanda, everyone in the country would be spending some time in jail for bullying. I believe in pretty big government, but not anywhere near that big.

4. I can't even bring up the statuatory rape charges leveled at the two boys in this case. It's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time. Enough said.

So that's where I am. I think the kids were jerks. I think they should have gotten in trouble with their school and their parents for being jerky, schools should have tough anti-bullying policies and they should be enforced. If the bullying bleeds over into hate-crime territory against black kids, or gay kids or, whatever-minority-kids, someone should bring in the big guns. And somebody at that school should have noticed the ugliness before Phoebe killed herself, but who's to say she wouldn't have done it anyway? And that's sad. It's terrible when a smart, pretty girl takes her own life, no matter what the circumstances are. I completely understand the drive to make somebody pay for that. (Trust me, I'm a -huge- fan of vigilante justice.) The problem in this case is that they're going after the wrong people. The blame for Phoebe Prince's death should go to her disease, not her classmates. Prosecuting people for nastiness can't possibly lead anywhere good, and the erosion of basic freedoms won't stop people from feeling out of place, out of sorts, out of their minds when they're teenagers.

This sort of craziness needs to stop somewhere. I know this entry won't make me particularly popular. I know that people will call me heartless, and bitchy (and maybe they'll go to jail for it...).I'm sure someone will say that I don't understand how bad it hurts when someone is mean to you, but I do. I'm not heartless, I feel terrible for Phoebe's family, and my heart breaks for her, because feeling so much pain that you think you can't stand it anymore isn't something anyone should have to endure. The thing is, ruining the lives of six other teenagers and their families isn't going to fix that.

Swinging Doors & Stuff

1. The doors to my unit at the hospital swing in opposite directions. Whether you're coming in or out, you have to push on the right side (your right, just like driving!) door. For some reason, about 80% of people choose the wrong door on their first (and sometimes every) try. Adults invariably push the left door, look stunned when it doesn't open, and then  keep pushing on it until somebody (me) says "use the other door." (Older men hate it when I say that and stomp around a bit before exiting. No clue why.) I have no idea what they think the problem with the door might be. I'm curious to see how long the exercise would go on, but I'm pretty sure I'd get in trouble if I didn't redirect them reasonably quickly. Children (usually under the age of 11), on the other hand, try the wrong door too, but when it doesn't work they, without missing a beat, go through the correct one. It's never a struggle for them to just try the other door.

I think there's probably a life lesson in there somewhere, but I'm not entirely sure what it might be.

2. The gigantic (plastic, ew!) Jesus statue in Ohio got struck by lightning and burned to the ground. The church's insurance company has refused to pay for the damage, calling it an "act of God." That might be my favorite news story of all time. The irony is just beautiful. Also, hello, if you're going to have a giant Jesus, go with natural materials. God doesn't like tacky (apparently). On a related note, (and this is old news, just new to me) while filming The Passion of the Christ, Jim Caviezel also got struck by lightning. Maybe God's just tired of people making Jesus look like a white guy.

3. I'm leaving on Friday for vacation in San Antonio (Whee!!). There will be water parks, and river walks and the Alamo, oh my! Also good friends, amazing food, and at least one day at the Mexican Heritage Market, which I love. I'll come home with pictures.

In Defense of Helen Thomas

I've been very upset about the whole Helen Thomas "scandal," but didn't have a moment to blog about it until now. I should probably start with a disclaimer:

1. I am not antisemitic. I don't have a problem with Jewish people. I think they have a very interesting, wonderful history and are generally fun, educated, tolerant people. Yay Jews!

2. I am anit-Israel. I don't think it's ok for outside governments to tell a country "we're taking this chunk of your land away because god said that the Jews could have it.

3. The whole concept of a holy land is ridiculous. First of all, if god was going to give his "chosen people" something like that, why would he choose a dirt strip where nothing grows and your worst enemies have been for thousands of years? Poor planning.

Now, on to Helen Thomas.On May 27, 2010, outside the Jewish Heritage Celebration Day event at the White House, the following exchange took place between Thomas and Rabbi David Nesenoff:

Nesenoff: Any comments on Israel? We're asking everybody today, any comments on Israel? Thomas: Tell them to get the hell out of Palestine.
Nesenoff: Oooh. Any better comments on Israel?
Thomas: Remember, these people are occupied and it's their land. It's not German, it's not Poland ...
Nesenoff: So where should they go, what should they do?
Thomas: They go home.
Nesenoff: Where's the home?
Thomas: Poland. Germany.
Nesenoff: So you're saying the Jews go back to Poland and Germany?
Thomas: And America and everywhere else. (emphasis mine) Why push people out of there who have lived there for centuries? See?

 There was a big stink following this interaction, and Helen Thomas was forced to resign in shame. For saying something that isn't only TRUE, it's not scandalous at all!! Palestine -is- occupied! The people doing the occupation -are- largely from Poland and Germany and the US! The allegations are that by saying Germany and Poland, Thomas implied something about concentration camps. That just leaves a big fat question mark over my head. She didn't say anything wrong. And yeah, her retirement was probably well overdue, but her long career shouldn't be marked by something like this. Particularly because she was right.

Saying that Israel is a valid country is like saying that if Mexico showed up, took over the Texas panhandle and said "this is Mexico now" we'd say that's perfectly acceptable. There was a huge war over this. "Remember the Alamo" anyone? I'm angry that nobody took a second to think about her comments logically, and mad that saying that if you don't support Israel in this country is a death sentence politically and socially and the whole thing just makes me sick.

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Not a Fish Tale

Well before Disney’s version of The Little Mermaid thrilled little girls the world over, I wanted to be a mermaid. Some of my earliest memories involve my cousin, Jenny, and I tying our legs together and writhing around on my grandmother’s kitchen floor, otherwise known as “under the sea.” Later, my girlfriends and I spent our time in the pool hanging onto other friends or, occasionally, my dad, pretending that they were our dolphins, and we, of course, were lovely mermaids. One of the most disappointing moments of my childhood was when my father (or more likely, my mother) refused to purchase the seashell necklace for me that would surely give authenticity to my play. I can’t even enter that store without remembering the pendant and wondering if the $2 that it cost was really worth the grief that it instilled in 6 year old Susan.

Twenty-something years later, I’m still (in spite of a near-paralyzing fear of fish and all things aquatic) a big fan of mermaid tales, favoring Hans Christian Andersen’s lovely, tragic version above all others (Disney will do in a pinch). My favorite part of the story has always been the moment that the mermaid becomes fully human. I love the first seconds of realizing her heart’s desire, no matter what the outcome might be (good for Disney’s Ariel, bad for HCA’s unnamed heroine). In that moment, all the mermaid’s wishes have come true. I can only imagine the sense of fear and elation that she must feel. I want that feeling. I want to know what it feels like, taking a deep breath and diving headfirst into the life that I’ve dreamed of, hoping for a good outcome, but not afraid of a bad one. John Burroughs said “leap and the net will appear.” I hope he was right.

It may take some time, but changes are coming.

Proof!

This is my new favorite photo. It also serves as proof that I don't always fall down.

Things are still stressful here, but they're getting better.

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Bad Days

I should have known it was going to be a bad day when I woke up with a tick on my arm. I believe in signs and superstition and luck, and recently, my luck has been a bit on the bad side. I'm not exactly sure what it is in my karmic past that's causing all these disasters, but it must have been a doozy.

After getting dressed, I opened the door to leave for work (late), to find an eviction notice from the landlord (if rent isn't paid by Friday), and a disconnect notice from the gas company (if the gas wasn't paid before 8am, today.) As I drove to work, the road was littered with a slew of roadkill, including a gigantic snake. Another bad sign. Great. Work is kind of my safe haven, and I'm not used to dreading it, but with the bloody highway, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. The bad didn't disappoint. We had a terribly sad case last night (which I can't discuss here. HIPPA, you know). We were completely out of charts, on every unit, so I wasn't able to be as productive as I like to be. And there was a terrible, vinegar smell, coming from somewhere, which we couldn't find to get rid of. Also, my scrubs smelled like gasoline and something that I ate for dinner was so hot (spice, not temperature) that it left burns/blisters on the inside of my lips and under my tongue. I suppose I should count myself lucky that the heat didn't ignite my gasoliney scrubs.
 Justin called to tell me that his truck has stopped working and that he sold his Xbox to pay the gas bill and for gas/grocery money. That still leaves the rent (and potential car repairs). Tomorrow I have a meeting with the Covenant Compassion woman to fill out the paperwork for a loan to cover our rent. Everything -will be- ok, but right now, it feels very tense.

It's not all bad, despite appearances. Justin got a grant to cover his summer class, which was one of our biggest stresses. We have electricity and water and food, which are the important things. Justin's going to get a summer job at UMC, and hopefully that will help our situation.

Anyway, that's where we are now.

"How I Was Brought Up"

I was talking to a friend, a few weeks ago and I asked her why she felt a certain way about something (I can't remember what now) and she said "that's just the way I was brought up." I've been thinking about that answer for a a long time, and I still can't really wrap my head around it. Why would someone choose to think or feel or believe something just because that's what their parents believed? A couple of generations ago, children in Germany were brought up to believe that it was ok to kill Jews and blacks and Gypsies and homosexuals. That sentiment didn't stick around long (mostly). Generations before them were brought up to believe that the best way to cure an illness, any illness, was to cut the sick open and let them "bleed it out." Now we know that that almost never works!
There is new knowledge released into the world every day. To ignore that, and continue a belief system simply because it's the way it's always been done in your family or town or state or country is ludicrous. Not that there's anything wrong with her family. They are really great people, and I fully believe that they raised their children very well. There wasn't anything inherently wrong with whatever it was that she thought either.
It's just that I think people should come to decisions about who they are on their own, as opposed to blindly following tradition.
My friend isn't the only person I've heard say that particular phrase recently. "It's how I was brought up" seems to be the mantra for this area, and probably for most of the world (which, I suspect, is why we're in trouble all the time). Something else I heard recently was (basically) "I don't care what the truth is, I choose to believe this instead." What the hell is that? Why would you choose to continue to believe a fiction, even after you've been presented with the truth? Particularly when it's about something that's easy to prove (as opposed to the cloudy world of religion and politics)? It's very confusing to me, and it bothers me more than it probably should. I'm not entirely sure why I felt compelled to write about it, except that it's been poking me in the brain for weeks now, and perhaps this is a way to get it to stop.

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