This dark

The dark tonight is strange. It is heavy... ominous, oppressive, overwhelming. There is a depth to it, an intensity that elicits a visceral response. I drove home tonight with my shoulders hunched, as if the weight of that black sky slid through the metal body of my car to press upon me. I feel a feral fear, an apprehension with no logic, a tightness in my muscles... a need to run from this inky harbinger of unknown calamity. The city must feel it, too. Its light, from motley lamps, orange, amber, pink... it strains to take to the sky. It is inhibited and small against the immensity of murk, and human eyes struggle to cope. What is it that makes this night so exceptional, harrowing, yet weirdly invigorating? Where has that incredible void come from, like some somber black hole, quietly sucking the light and civility from mankind? These words almost come born of a subliminal need to maintain intellectuality, while deep within I hear the desire of instinct to take hold. Will I maintain my humanity 'til morning? Or will the dawn find me wild with the madness of this dark?

Equal Rights

When did we forget that all people are created equal?

Regardless of social standing, race, beliefs, economic status, location... we were all born the same, we all have the same basic needs. I don't care who you are, what you do, where you live, how much is in your checking account. Every one of us is a human being, and deserves to be treated as such.

Why is it, then, that people treat each other so poorly? Your boss treats you disrespectfully... The receptionist at your doctor's office is rude and uncaring... Driving is dangerous because everyone thinks their own destination is more important than the safety of those around them... There are so many examples to be found in daily life of how people are wrong to each other.

This is my clarion call. I charge each of you to be better to your fellow humans. Each of us was daddy's girl or mama's little man at some point. Each of us was a wide-eyed child, who didn't know the cruelty of the world.

That cruelty doesn't have to be. If each of us treats each other as we would want to be treated, the world would be a better place. All it takes is a little respect, a little kindness.

sorry in advance

I'm sorry, but I need to rant a little.

I've been using Yahoo mail for more than ten years. I've never had a problem before, but lately Yahoo seems to be under the impression that I am a spammer.

I use two different Yahoo accounts. One is for emailing my friends and family, and the other is for business correspondence, like receiving bills. Pretty innocuous, if you ask me. But Yahoo thinks I have some kind of ulterior motive in messaging my family.

Let me tell you what I told the Yahoo customer care people:

"This is ridiculous!

"Yahoo seems to think I am a spammer. More and more frequently, I have been asked to fill out a Captcha before my email will be sent. Today, as icing on this cake, my message was refused, and I was given this message:

"'The message you composed has not been sent. Such message blocks are usually caused by sending a message whose content has triggered our spam filters, or by sending to too many recipients at a given time. We encourage you to carefully review the recipient list and contents (including URLs therein) of your message before attempting to resend it.'

"What's really ludicrous about this is that I was emailing my SISTER regarding her recent hacking. Amazing... Yahoo will stop ME from 'spamming' my SISTER, but will not stop my sister from having HER Yahoo account HACKED!

"I use this email account primarily for emailing my family and friends. Therefore, most of my messages go to the same people, each with 1-8 of the same recipients. I have been using Yahoo mail for more than 10 years, with different user names, and have always emailed in this fashion.

"Is this suddenly suspicious behavior? Is emailing my friends and family going to be a problem? Because let me assure you, if you do not have a solution for me regarding your obstacles to my emails, I will be more than happy to terminate more than a decade of loyalty and use a different email host."

I think the problem they have with me is that I email the same person a few times a day, or I send emails to the same group of three people (my mom, my dad, and my sister) repeatedly. I guess I just don't have enough friends for Yahoo's standards; maybe they'd leave me alone if I sent emails to hundreds of people instead of less than a dozen.

Accomplice

This is not an easy story to read. Sensitive hearts, don't continue.

Today at work, a woman brought her 8-month-old female kitten in to be spayed. I was the technician admitting her, and gave the cat a brief physical before taking her in. When I felt her belly, I became suspicious that she might be pregnant, and brought her in the back to consult the doctor.

Sure enough, I was right. The doctor felt her belly, and we ultrasounded her, and saw the tiny skeletons.

When we told the kitten's owner, she became very upset. She couldn't take care of a litter, and didn't want to bring more cats into the world to potentially become homeless or lead hard lives. In a world where so many unwanted animals are euthanized every day, the doctor, the owner, and I all decided that it would be more humane to continue with the spay, and abort the kittens.

Despite the perfectly sound rationale, the woman was still distraught. She had tears in her eyes as she left the hospital, and she was really beating herself up for not getting her cat spayed sooner. She didn't say as much, but I could tell she also felt like a murderer for electing to abort the kittens.

I tried to comfort her in whatever way I could. I hope my words helped. But at the same time, my heart was quietly breaking beneath the calm facade.

I feel like an accessory to a crime. Even now, hours later, I find myself wishing I hadn't said anything when I felt the kittens in the queen's belly. I know it would make no difference; the surgeon would discover the pregnancy, and the outcome would be the same. And I know the reasoning was perfectly logical in making that decision. Even if we kept the kittens and found homes for them, that would have meant other cats in the world wouldn't have the opportunity of those homes.

But still, I like awake in bed, haunted by what I was a part of, and full of regret.

It's a horribly, horribly difficult job we have in medicine. I hope tomorrow brings better.

Overwhelming

A friend of mine from my fraternity, Mike Congiusta, passed away the other day. He was 20 years old. He had leukemia. And he impressed the hell out of me.

I never knew he was sick until it was announced at a fraternity meeting that he had relapsed and had to pull out of school. I liked Mike from the get-go; he was a sweet guy who made sure everyone felt included and had a smile on. He was a goofy little sombitch, but he worked hard and had a big heart. I always respected him, but when I found out about his cancer, that respect skyrocketed.

He never let the disease own him. He never submitted to it, and never played on anyone's sympathies. He had ambitions, and pursued them. He stayed positive, and made other people feel good. He was a great person.

I hope, with this post and the one prior, to pay my respects, in some small way, to two good men. I was close to neither, but both have my admiration... and both inspire me to strive to make the world a better place, just as they did, even in silly little ways. I hope I can bring some positivity to the world... in memory of Mike and Ger.

En Memoriam

Gerald Driscoll and I weren't very close friends. We were more like friends of friends. But I always enjoyed when he was around; he was funny, and made everyone smile and feel good. He was someone who truly loved life, and I mean every bit of it. I don't think I ever saw a frown on his face, or felt an ounce of negativity come out of him. I admired and respected him for that, and his endearing personality, fun-loving with a great sense of humor, made me love him.

Today would have been his birthday. He would have been 28 years old today. I still can't believe he's gone, even though it's been years since he died. This is one instance where I can honestly say, with no hint of cliche, that the world has been robbed. It's like a hole was ripped in space when he passed, and even though he and I weren't close, I still feel that emptiness. He touched people; you could tell by the hundreds who attended his funeral.

I hope to honor him today by having a truly fantastic day. He enjoyed every moment with a smile and a laugh on his lips. That is what I strive for today. Please help me celebrate his memory by making today wonderful.

Miss you, Ger.

Blessings Counted

I literally tried to count my blessings, and it's just not possible. I understand now what it means to lead a blessed life.

It's not something I've always known; I used to take for granted this fact. And it's not something I woke up one morning with the epiphany of. It's something I've learned, come to realize, over recent years, with certain events bringing it more and more to light.

I won't deny that I've felt that naive, immature feeling that life has slighted me in some ways. There have been times when I've felt like I deserved something that I'd been cheated out of, or that I'd missed opportunities that I should have been handed more easily. But if I've learned anything over my 26 years, it's that life is what you make of it, and that you should always remember the positives.

My parents are largely to thank for how wonderful my life is. I would guess that at least 90% of the positive in my life is due to what they have bestowed upon me, either directly or tangentially. Be it experiences they have given me, or doors they've opened for me through their own hard work and advice, or even just the characteristics I've inherited from their teachings and genetics, they have made it possible for me to lead a fulfilling life.

Not that my life is always a walk in the park. I've had plenty of stressful times, and moments where I've felt so overwhelmed I didn't know how I could move on. But I've always sprung back, and I thank my parents for helping me be the kind of person who doesn't let the bullshit keep them down.

I'm blessed by the other people I've met and known as well. Even the relationships that were not good helped me become who I am today. I am grateful to have some of the most fantastic people in the world as my friends. Through good times and bad, fun and worry, they have been there, and knowing that you have such a support system does such wonderful things for your mental well-being. Though time and distance may separate us, there are so many people whom I care deeply for, and I know the feeling is reciprocated.

And all of the amazing things I have seen! Phenomena both natural and man-made... sights, sounds, smells, tastes, feelings that words can never hope to convey. Things that every being should be able to experience, at least in some small way.

That is what I hope to accomplish. This world, and our lives, are such miracles. I want for everyone to appreciate just how spectacular life is, even in the lowest of lows and the hardest of times. Each of us has some magic in our lives, some beauty. I beseech every one of you to look at what you have, really look at what you've seen and done, what you have, and see the wonder of it. We all share in our hurts, but we all share in our blessings. Remember those blessings always.

Butt-Buster Booger Hill

This winter being such a snowy one, a tale of woe and tragedy from my childhood has been coming to mind quite frequently... My father is going to be endlessly surprised and tickled by the fact that I've chosen to share this, but I feel I must get this story out, so that future generations may benefit from my distress.

I have no idea how old I was when these terrible events transpired. I must have been no more than eight. I would hope so, anyway; you'll understand as you read on.

We had just gotten a good little snowstorm, and my family was heading out for a day of sledding. With blue plastic toboggans and Thermos of hot chocolate in tow, we headed out to the Assunpink Wildlife Management Area, where dwells a fantastic hill. My little sister and I vibrated with ill-contained glee and excitement.

Now, before I continue, I need to impress upon you, my precious readers, just what this hill entails. It is steep. I mean epic steep. In snow, most cars cannot climb the road up it. It is also heavily wooded in parts. A stream lies at the bottom of it. And as I discovered, above all, it is a fickle mistress.

When we arrived, my parents marched us up the hill in a safe spot, right near the road. The trees were a little thinner there, and there were a couple of clear paths to sled down. No need to steer, really, just kick off and slide down. These paths were fantastic for little Melissa and littler Jenny... especially the one that let out onto the snow-covered road, and offered a particularly lengthy ride. Truly bliss for two little be-mittened girls.

But not enough for the mad mountain man... my father.

This barbarian, with his animalistic desire for adrenaline, wanted... nay! Needed to find a grander adventure than these bunny slopes. Fervor lighting his eyes and spittle flecking his beard, he found an optimal spot. Trees barred the way, treacherous obstacles to maneuver about. Beyond that, the route was shrouded in mystery. Uncertainty was the only certainty on this deranged descent. He had to do it.

But he would not be going alone.

Swept up in his frenzy, innocent, unsuspecting, and trusting, I found myself in front of my dad on the sled, pointed down a new direction. "It's going to be fun!" my father promised. "You're going to love it!" I wonder to this day if he truly believed that, and that the tragedy was all just an accident... But I tend to think it was the sickness in his brain that spoke those words.

The ride started out just fine. Weaving through the trees, my own infant addiction to adrenaline was being fed; I was thrilled. We picked up speed...

...and then... the worst.

I don't know if it was root or rock, but whatever we hit sent us airborne. My father, heavier than I, was deposited squarely (and I almost hope painfully) on his posterior in the snow. This left me, careening even faster now that I was alone, hurtling through the trees toward my certain demise. It was then I saw the stream approaching at break-neck speed... But before that lay the branch. Such an enormous branch I had never seen before; what behemoth of a tree could have sprouted that monstrosity?

But I didn't have time to think of these things at that moment. Before I could react, the sled hit the branch, instantly dropping from the speed of sound to a dead stop. However, I was not so fortunate. The branch had two effects on me. Firstly, the sudden decrease in speed caused the contents of my rather stuffy sinuses to empty all down my face. And secondly, I was launched ass-first into that barely-frozen stream.

By some miracle, I remained relatively dry, aside from the torrents of snot the had been knocked out of me. The soreness, both of body and ego, was where the real damage had been done. As I laid there, shocked and crying, I looked up to see...

...my devoted father...

...laughing his ass off.

The moral of this story, children? Dads are dicks!