August 2005 Archives

Mendon and I have been playing a game ever since I got back from India. While there, someone had posited the thought, "I wonder what cows think."

the Psychology of Stigma and Victimization:

"Indeed, researchers currently disagree whether the benefits of labeling a mental illness (i.e., treatment) outweigh the costs of the socially stigmatizing effects of such a label."

-Quinn, Kahang & Crocker (2004). Discreditable: .... Personality and Social Psych. Bulletin, 30, 803-815.

Wow.

What's your favorite children's book? And what's your favorite book from your childhood, if they are different? Why? Why are they different? Why are they your favorites? What about them, what about you?

PS. I just deleted 15! comments from texas hold'em. That's the first I've seen of that from this side of the blog. Spammers certainly found my blog all of a sudden.

Perhaps a thesis.

Trauma and recovery. I feel that it is often overlooked how traumatic recovery can be in its own right. It's much easier to pretend that the worst of a trauma, the majority of a trauma, occurs in one first event, or one worst event. It's much easier to pretend that our justice system actually upholds justice, and it's much easier to pretend that the world is fair and that our professionals are competent and really help the healing process. I feel compelled to social work. It's because of the pain. I'm afraid I won't be able to handle it, but it seems that I've been moving towards women, children, suffering, stigma, and recovery more and more because of the pain and its needs. It needs love and patience, and I want to try.

Perhaps my life.

Baby powder, talc, call it what you will, is amazing when it comes to keeping one from feeling sticky. Hillary, I think this is something you would appreciate.

I really like clean. I do. I like clean dishes, clean floors, clean Kristen, clean computers. The rest of the world cares less.

There are some things that Americans are good at. Pies, cakes, ICE CREAM and cookies are the first that come to mind. There are some things that other countries are good at, like chocolate. India is good at none of these. Well, India is good at spicy and overly-sweet.

Being overly-concerned with one's weight is contagious. I'm ready to go back to my quarantine.

"Cheapest and best." Heard often. I love the philosophy.

Cockroaches don't smush when you hit them. They explode.

Geckos are great. More than their useful cleaning that I already knew about thanks to Mendon, their movement is humorous.

I feel guilty when I don't give to beggars. I feel guilty when I do give to beggars.

I am white. Or, I learned what being white can mean.

Silence is golden, even if it is one-sided. Being able to shut my mouth and effectively disappear is useful.

Mendon was 100% correct about chocolate. It is necessary for being challenged abroad.

We were having another lasagna creation. I was only doing the assembling this time and had two wonderful veggie helpers who took care of the onions, zucchini, and artichoke hearts. Oh, and tomatoes (Yay!) We had to pry Mendon from the computer for the prayer, for which we were not yet eating our food: the aforementioned lasagna and a pile of corn. We were discussing the wedding, the errand we were about to run for it, and invitations, etc. Blah. Maman asked for the salt and pepper, making a teasing comment about how it might be rude. Mendon and I had had a big "argument" earlier this week about whether or not we should have salt and pepper at the wedding. This means that we wanted to mock-bicker for fun and started our orneriness with a wink or two to establish our intentions. Mendon argued that it would be rude of our guests to put salt or pepper on the food; our cooking doesn't need any adjustments! I told her it certainly would not be (rude) and gladly picked up the salt and pepper in one hand and extended it over our heap of corn. And Maman sat there. She put her hands on the table and I leaned further over, assuming that the heap of corn is becoming problematic at the moment. She still wouldn't take them and I couldn't do much but extend them over the corn. I got mildly worried about the shakers as Maman sank further and further back from the table and into her chair, patting at the table; she was making a bit of a face at them. I looked over at Mendon, hoping that his view will reassure me that I didn't have a lethal arachnid crawling slowly to my fingers. He took the shakers from me and put them on the table. He actually salted Maman's corn aggitatedly for her, while explaining to me that "You're not supposed to pass the salt directly to someone; you have to set it down on the table; or else,.. your relationship... will get... salty?" When I realized the origin of the shaker issue, I responded, "Oh! Am I supposed to give you a penny now?"

to the entire Dornbrook clan: You have all made me feel so welcome into your family that "To Be" sometimes seems inappropriate. Often, I feel like a daughter, sister, cousin, even granddaughter, because of your love, support and generosity. Even happier than this feeling makes me, is how I feel when I realize that I get to keep you, too! ; ) Thank you!

This is my family? Are these your in-laws? Yet?

It has been the mantra as of late. I have been taking care of 14 weeks of backed-up paperwork for MU and the insurance company. I've made a goal of having most of the wedding planned and taken care of before I go back to school. That's less than two weeks. This includes the wedding registry, which includes going through all of the hand-me-downs that are upstairs in the HOT attic in boxes from Mom and Mark. I've been trying to catch up on violin. Ha. Plus, balancing expectations has proven interesting. I have myself and Mendon. We need to find compromise. Plus, six parents, who have, spoken or not, some idea of what the wedding should be like. Plus, their families. This is crazy. I think I can, I think... I can walk over to the fridge and cash in on last-night's investment from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Co.

So, even more than I want to whine about a small case of burn-out from last night, I would really love to hear some wedding stories. Especially if I can laugh at them. Please?

So, here I sit, in the Las Vegas airport, listening to the steady chant of the Baha'i Corale, interrupted by the steady chant of "Wheel of Fortune" coming from the smoking room/casino around the corner, and I wonder, why on earth did I think that India would be an experience when I have places like this to remind me of how unusual life here is? : ) Half casino, half airport, this place is nuts! The mac convention has unloaded its congregants at each power outlet along the way, one of which I am occupying, with my mac, hoping to talk to Mendon through Skype because I've signed my LasVegas release form that protects the airport from lawsuits in the event that a traveller's online gambling goes haywire. Wholesome families and women who, in my words, look cold, create a line of juxtaposition waiting for the food court workers to "Hurry up with that pizza!" And a small line of build-a-bears, who tell you they love you if you squeeze their paws, bob past at the hands of their young captors, jingling with green, gold and purple beads. Welcome to Las Vegas.