Acrophilia and other extremes.

This picture is originally from http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/38224278/

Check out this story on two--possibly crazy--men who are planning to make a supersonic jump. Literally. Felix Baumgartner, a 41 yr old Australian and Michel Fournier, a 66 yr old Frenchman are each attempting to be the first to skydive from 120, 000 feet, as in the edge of space, and break the sound barrier on the way down. Personally, I'm rooting for Fournier because he is clearly the underdog with much less funding and support. He's been working towards this feat for about 20 years, 5 times as long as Baumgartner who is backed by Red Bull. Not that I have anything against Baumgartner. Au contrair, anyone who seriously plans to take that kind of risk deserves some kudos. I've leapt off of 50 foot high platforms and fallen backwards out of trees, but all while secured to ropes and a harness. Sure that rather flimsy looking carabiner could break but what are the chances? These guys will have some fancy suits and hi-tech parachutes, but no ropes or harnesses. Pretty much just them and the open air. No one is quite sure what the effects of falling from that height will be. Other people have tried descending from lesser heights and sadly lost their lives. I expect that these supersonic jumpers will black out at some point during the fall--hopefully not at the parachute opening point.

Most of us will never do anything this extreme, but I can understand ( a little) why one would try. I think back to the time when I leapt off of my friends dock into the 30ft deep lake below. Did I mention that I cannot swim? And there were no life guards in site? And the water was quite murky so if I sank like a rock, it's highly unlikely they'd be able to see me? Oh and I was an adult who fully understood cause and effect, (diving into deep water + not knowing how to swim = DROWNING). This is not on nearly the same level as falling through the sound barrier and obviously I didn't drown. My self-preservation skills kicked in and you'd better believe I swam. I even jumped in again. But why did I do it? 1. The common sense section of my brain frequently takes a break 2. Because I was curious to find out what would happen 3. The adrenaline rush is pretty amazing. Plus it makes a great story. People may look at you like you're crazy but deep down I know they are in awe of your daredevilishness and wish above all else that they could be so cool. Maybe. This article in PsychologyToday offers some explanations for why we take risks http://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/200910/risk.

The research implicates that the drive to take high risks is "hard-wired". In other words. risk-taking may be  be a genetic, biological thing. The average, middle and upper class American lives a relatively safe, and dare I say, dull, life so many people--especially men--engage in risky behaviors like extreme sports to fulfill their thrill-seeking needs. Not that women can't be thrill seekers--many are. The biological truth of it is that women are the ones who bear children and throughout history have invested a majority of their time raising them. Risk taking simply is not conducive to motherhood. In the past, and today in hundreds of communities around the world, men are expected to provide for their families by travelling long distances, hunting for food, and fending off wild animals and violent people. This of course involves a great deal of risk taking. The article notes that men and women living in war-torn or poverty-stricken areas aren't exactly looking to take unnecessary risk; their lives are risky enough already.

Both Baumgartner and Fourtnier have done some extreme stuff in the past so they're certainly not strangers to the adrenaline high. And in many people there's a natural drive to test your limits, to see what you're really made of. Unfortunately, not everyone who finds themselves in a seemingly impossible predicament volunteered for it. I read an interesting book on a related subject, called "Surviving the Extremes: A Doctor's Journey to the Limits of Human Endurance" by Dr. Kenneth Kamler . Kamler is vice president of the Explorer's Club and he was actually part of the tragic 1996 Mt Everest Expedition and treated the survivors. The book details stories of human survival in a variety of extreme environments--the desert, the open seas, the Amazon Jungle. Kamler doesn't overwhelm you with medical jargon, which is nice. I actually mentioned this book in one of my first posts back in March. Well, we'll see who makes history with the first space jump, Mr. Red Bull or the underdog. Either way, it will be super impressive and something I will most likely never, ever try...P.S. I still can't swim.

O blush not so!

Perhaps it is a silly thing to be embarrassed about one's idiosyncrasies. (Isn't that a delicious word?
Id-i-o-syn-cra-sy, noun, : a peculiarity of constitution or temperament; an individualizing characteristic or quality). The truth is, sometimes I am. Embarrassed, I mean. Someone was riding in my car with me and the radio was playing the last station I left it tuned to. It's a station that plays random old songs, and obscure songs, and some mainstream stuff mixed in with some not quite mainstream (which somehow makes it way cooler). After a few moments, the rider asked me "Is this the kind of music you listen to?" The tone wasn't rude, but slightly incredulous. And immediately I was embarrassed and tried to brush it off with "What is this station? I'm not even sure what I left it on. I mean, sometimes I listen to this stuff because, you know the other stations all play the same thing..." I wish I was one of those people who manage to always seem unfazed, but alas, my emotions are forever on display.

One of my friends described my expressions as "so cliche'". At first I wasn't sure whether or not I should take offense to that. Who wants to be cliche'? What he meant was, my facial expressions and even the way I move, are practically textbook examples of what emotions should look like. For example, startle me and I'll jump, and gasp, and clutch at my heart, and give you the classic look of wide-eyed, open-mouthed, surprise. People, particularly children and guys, figure that out quickly and think it's hilarious and are constantly sneaking up behind me. After nearly giving me a heart attack, a friend of mine in college said he would relish my reaction for the rest of his life. Great. And it's the same for anger, sadness, happiness, confusion, disappointment....Not that I know what I look like. I usually don't even realize I'm making a face until someone mentions it. "Omigosh, look at your face! It's sooo extreme!" The truth is, my emotions are pretty extreme. When I'm happy, I'm not just happy I'm OVERJOYED. When I'm sad I'm not just sad, I'm absolutely devastated. When I'm embarrassed, of course I'm utterly mortified. And it all shows up on my face. I have a book all about the human face [The Face: A Natural History by Daniel McNeill]. Well, it's really about more than just the face. The author goes into detail about why we look the way we look, act the way we act, say the things we say. I don't agree with everything in the book, but I do agree with most of the information. According to the author, most researchers agree on five or so basic expressions; anger, surprise, fear, happiness, and sadness. These are recognizable around the world. In fact, babies born deaf and blind have the same facial expressions as anyone else. (Side note: Helen Keller is of course the most well-known deafblind person, but she is certainly not the only one. Check out this website, created by a deafblind man in the UK  A-Z to Deafblindness).

Picking up on my obvious embarrassment, my passenger quickly reassured me that it was okay. Then I felt embarrassed for being embarrassed. It's a vicious cycle. The worst is when I can feel myself blushing. Yes, yes, dark-skinned people can blush. If I was a shade or two darker no one would ever notice...How I envy my chocolate brown friends. I'm not at all pale, but when I blush it's obvious. There's no mistaking that tingling, uncomfortable heat spreading across my face and I find myself praying that no one points it out. When someone does, I just want to run and hide under a table. Actually, I should be putting my red cheeks on display. Blushing has a purpose. When you make a mistake or do something humiliating, that awkward flush literally softens people's feelings toward you. Because blushing is completely involuntary it shows the poor blusher to be sincerely embarrassed. Someone who says something dumb and then blushes is more likely to be forgiven than someone who says the same thing blush-less. This article on why we blush is a good one. My search on the web also led me to a poem by John Keats, Sharing the Apple, better known as "O Blush Not So!" Perfect, don't you think? Ok, so the poem is also a little risque'.

Anyway, to summarize: Idiosyncrasy is a cool word, I'm embarrassed about being embarrassed, blushing is actually socially beneficial, and John Keats was a poet. The end.

How to be

I am on a self-improvement kick. Hm, well maybe I need clarify that. "Self-improvement" has unpleasant connotations of poor self-esteem (which used to plague me and occasionally I relapse) and short-lived cycles of sacrificial dieting (which I never do) and brutal exercise (see comment after sacrificial dieting). What I mean by self-improvement is really a conscious effort to live a productive life. Various events over the course of my almost 25 years of existence--particularly those in recent months--have pushed me to reexamine my goals. I am one of those people who have always had some idea of what they want to do and, being ridiculously stubborn, once I have my mind set on something, I will pursue it until it becomes literally impossible or God tells me no. And usually God tells me no by making whatever I'm trying to do literally impossible. I've already said I'm a restless sort of person and to be doing nothing would be, well, miserable. I'm working toward these big goals that I've had for years and yet it's not enough.

One Sunday, the pastor preached on the difference between being satisfied, dissatisfied, and unsatisfied. I've always thought that to be satisfied was the goal. You know how people say that good Christians should be content, and at peace, and so on. I assumed that meant I must always feel perfectly satisfied and I felt rather guilty about not feeling that way. In fact, it's a chronic condition for me. But the pastor went on to say that being satisfied can be a bad state if it means that you think you've "arrived", that you have become all you want to be, and now are under no obligation to contribute to anything else. I'm sure others figured out long ago that contentment is not the same as ceasing to strive but for me it was a revelation. The American Sign Language sign for "understand" is a closed fist held up beside the forehead, palm facing in, and then you flick the first finger up like a light bulb coming on. I always imagine hearing a loud "ding!" at the same time. Of course, two seconds later, I began to worry. The next point was about dissatisfaction. If I wasn't smugly satisfied, I thought, then I must be dissatisfied. Yuck. I know dissatisfied people. Heck, not too long ago, I was one of those people. Bitter, grumpy, complaining, critical. We are all unhappy with this and that every now and then, but for that to be my general attitude?! I pictured those who fit the description and they are so unpleasant to be around. I pictured myself and thought about how unpleasant it must be to spend time with me when I'm like that. Thankfully, before I sunk into the depths of despair, we moved on to the next point. Unsatisfied. Right. Doesn't that mean the same as dissatisfied? Apparently not. A person can be satisfied or dissatisfied but not unsatisfied. You see, unsatisfied refers more to a need or an expectation that goes unfulfilled, the feeling of needing more (according to the thesaurus and daily writing tips online). It is perfectly alright to be unfulfilled when it leads you to seek more out of life, out of yourself.  When it leads you to seek God's will, and to live up to your full potential. That struck a chord in me. I know I am not satisfied, I have been making a conscious effort for some time not to be dissatisfied, but this whole concept of unsatisfied ...What a novel idea! Ha, well clearly that is what the Apostle Paul was saying when he wrote Philippians 3.

I realize now why working to achieve "big" goals was not enough. I make good grades in school, I'm learning the medical skills, so I could be a competent nurse. I love children, I have spent most of my life working with children, children seem to like me, so I will probably do well in the area of pediatrics. When it comes to traveling, I'm not particular about housing or transportation--the more unusual the better-- and I'm not a picky eater. I get along well with most people, and I'm quite willing to learn a new language, so traveling shouldn't be a problem. If life continues on as it has so far, I'll eventually be what I want to be. But I've recently had to stop and try a new perspective. I can go through the motions and maybe be "successful". However, I realized lately that instead of focusing on what I want to be and do, I need to be contemplating who I want to be. What kind of character do I have now and can I see myself continuing on this way? What about the little things, like how I handle my money, how I organize my time whether or not I clean that blasted room of mine. Those things say alot about me. Am I patient with the little ones in the family? Do I respect my other siblings? Do I respect my mother?  Am I a hypocrite? How often do I make promises that I don't keep...How often do I gossip?? And what about my interests. Do I take the time grow and improve on a personal level? I love to sing, but I rarely sing with people or for people anymore. The violin is my favorite instrument but I've almost convinced myself that I'll never learn  o play. I am interested in martial arts and I was good at it but it's been a while since I've pursued it. I enjoy drawing and painting, but how often do I pick up a brush? I adore the theater, and museums, and dancing but when do I go? And most importantly, what is the quality of my time in prayer or in the Bible. Am I so distracted that I can't even hear God's directions? I know that sometimes I get so caught up in trying to make things work the way I think they should, that I don't recognize how much of a mess I'm making. I just don't want to look back on my life and say "I have no idea who I am?"  When I look at those around me and see the decisions they've made and the consequences--good or bad--it makes me wonder about my own choices and where they will take me and how they will affect those around me. I don't expect to magically transform into Ms. Perfect. I do, however, want to be heading in the right direction.

Nursing school, recycling, and messy rooms

What follows is a terribly mundane very condensed and incomplete update on my life. I don't really delve into the dirty details (for example, the fact that I have thrown several temper tantrums over the past few months) simply because my fingers are tired.

Nursing School:
I'm officially in my 3rd semester of nursing school which deserves a big "Thank You God" because I didn't think I would survive summer. All of the lectures and lab skills and clinical rotations just went right over my head and I felt like the dopiest nursing student ever invented. And then, suddenly, at the end of the 4-months- of-material-condensed-into-9-weeks-of-stress, it all made sense. I told my clinical instructor, "It's finally clicked! Now that the semester is over, I finally get it." Well, better late than never I suppose. Highlight of the summer: I had a patient who hates needles. She was in the hospital because her craniotomy incision had become infected--and a wound infection after surgery is no joke. WARNING: description of a surgery to follow. Read it if you want. A craniotomy is a procedure used to remove a brain tumor. The hair is shaved at and around the incision site and a fairly large section of the skull is removed, exposing the brain. After the tumor is removed, the piece of skull is fit back into place. You can imagine how it would feel to know that you're half bald and the back of your head has an big upside-down horseshoe shaped line of stitches. Well, this patient was incredibly anxious and she'd already had quite enough of IVs, drains, and shots. When I walked in to give her a heparin injection she didn't look too happy. Thankfully we were taught to prepare the injection in the med room and cap the needle so the patients won't see you come strolling in with a long shiny needle; when you're already stressed out and afraid of shots, that inch long needle looks like a sword. My patient sat there cringing and said "Okay, you can do it now." I smiled and said "I'm already done." She looked genuinely surprised. "Oh, good technique! That last nurse came walking in with that huge needle for my heparin and it hurt like crazy!" Ha ha, go me :) Now the fall semester has begun and I'm in Pediatrics/Obstetrics/Psych. Plus I'm taking a silly Research Strategies course (all about using PowerPoint and looking stuff up online. I didn't have to take it at the college I graduated from because I was a science major and you have to use all of those research strategies in class anyway) and U.S. History. I'm pretty sure there aren't enough hours in the day, so sleeping and eating will have to wait until Christmas break. Good news--I'm still on track to graduate May 2011. Hurray!!

original image from  mycampfriends.com/pages/ask_the_camp_nurse/90.php

Recycling:
My little household, consisting of two of my sisters and I, have been recycling and I am working very hard to avoid using plastic grocery bags when shopping. The problem is, I go to the store and leave my cute little tote bags at home. Okay, they're actually not little. They're huge and I'm small. Most of the time I just tell the cashier I don't need a bag and carry my groceries out. Of course, my arms can only hold so much before things start falling all over the place and I end up looking like a one woman circus. I can imagine myself wobbling across the parking lot with red clown shoes and garish clown makeup and poofy rainbow colored hair. Ick. Clowns are scary but I will be one in the name of going green. I'm really quite a klutz anyway. The other day I was skipping gracefully up the stairs, feeling cool and light on my feet, and then I tripped and fell dramatically, very nearly landing on my face. And of course I had an audience. A group of teenage girls and several grown-up ladies all sitting around having a meeting, which I was skipping up the stairs to attend. I am supposed to be a mentor to these girls but I'm afraid I lost some cool points :) I started laughing at myself as soon as I landed. The key to minimizing embarrassment is to laugh first, because that way everyone really is laughing with you. Besides, it's not like you can ignore the fact that I nearly splattered myself across the floor.

Messy Room:
My room is a dreadful mess and it's embarrassing. Maybe it reflects my disordered mind. That sounds bad. I don't have a real disorder aside from being dreadfully unmotivated and easily overwhelmed. Consolation: the rest of my house stays clean. And no I don't have dirty laundry or 3 week old pizza lying about in my room. The papers and books and knickknacks have simply taken over. I'm in the process of getting organized. Really I am.

I could write much much more but I won't. I'm boring myself. My next post will be radical and interesting.

Elsewhere

Sleeping dreams prance lighty thru
                        Whisper thin as air
My daydreams are too full of you


             At night you aren't there...

Someone once asked me: A poem

Someone once asked me "Which do you prefer--the sun or the moon?"

I said the moon.


The question was asked by someone whom I had convinced myself I liked ever so much
And he supposedly liked me ever so much.
But, as these things go, my head eventually cleared and I realized
that I was more enamored with
"the idea of."
I don't see him anymore and I honestly cannot remember most of what we talked about

I do remember the question about the moon.

It was supposed to be an original get-to-know-you kind of question I'm sure

Nothing particularly special

And yet, it struck me.

I thought about it for a moment. Which did I prefer? I pictured both..

The sun. The moon. The moon. The sun.

The sun is bright and seems cheerful enough. I conjured up sparkling images of beaches and waves and paradise islands
And suddenly I felt warm--uncomfortably so.
It is also, I think, loud and relentless and impossible to ignore


The funny thing is, you can't really look at it--I mean the sun.

It is beautiful in an awe-inspiring sort of way but
no one can ever get close to it.

because it would consume them

Perhaps that is why many people have believed the sun to be a god.

I was thinking about the moon last night.

The sky was blue-black and clear and the moon was enormous. It startled me a bit.

A man on the radio was describing his trip to a sacred lake beside a sacred mountain in Tibet.

His voice was rather monotonous and it would have been unbearable if it hadn't been tinged with a hint of an unusual sense of humor.
He said something about the moon in Tibet and I looked up at the moon where I live and I thought about it.


Sometimes the moon seems cold, like a great orb of blinding white ice.

then I imagine winter in Narnia

And other times it is calm and gentle or even sleepy.

As if the moon has actually closed it's eyes and gone to sleep

Suspended in space, completely oblivious to everything but it's

moon dreams.
The idea makes me giggle.


On the nights the moon is red, looming ominously in the sky
I catch my breath and wonder what will happen next.
I stare, then look away, then stare again, fascinated
When the moon is red I think everyone who sees it must feel the weight of the red moon.


Of course, there are nights when it is invisible
and that alone makes you long for it to return.
it's absence
seems strange


I don't really believe in faeries or fauns or any other mythical beings, but

every now and then

I wish that such creatures existed so that I might, sometime, happen upon them dancing and leaping in the moonlight

Like a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream.

I did not give all of these reasons when I was asked.

At the time I simply said

Because the moon is more

Mysterious.

Going Green--an update already?

I wrote about the Korst's year-long Green Garbage Project yesterday. Later that evening, I stopped at an art supply store to buy a new sketch book and drawing pencils/charcoal. The first set of pencils I picked up was quite nice and I almost bought it, then I hesitated when I realized that the plastic it was packaged in had no recycling number. The other set came in a metal tin wrapped in a small piece of cardboard and thin, plastic wrap-- both of which are recyclable. And it was cheaper. "But the first set has so much more! More pencils, more charcoal, more more more!!" I walked around the store clutching it to my chest like a little Gollum. "My precious... My precious!" Okay, I didn't actually say that, but I'm sure the store people were wondering what was wrong with me as I wandered the aisles talking to myself, looking over my shoulders for the go-green police and repeatedly returning to where all of the pencils were hanging, torn between quantity and eco-friendly. Finally, I decided to stop pacing like a crazy woman and look at sketch books for a while. Guess what I found? The perfect book made in the USA of 100% recycled paper with a Sustainable Forestry Initiative label (meaning they don't just recklessly chop down trees). I was elated but I managed to contain myself and not dance down the aisle--I do occasionally dance down aisles. How could I buy such great paper and at the same time purchase plastic waste? Besides, another force was at play here. The North American "more is better" complex. I'm usually on guard against it but I was unwittingly allowing it to influence me. "Well," I reasoned, suddenly seeing things clearly, "The metal tin is convenient and portable, whereas if I bought the other set I would need to find a container to store them in. And how many pencils and charcoal sticks do I really need right now anyway? Not to mention it's cheaper." I happily purchased the smaller set and the fabulous sketch book and went on my merry way to figure drawing class. Anyway, I need to get organized so that I can do this whole green thing properly.