cancer clients

A few weeks ago, in a fit of charity, I signed up to give some free massages to women who have cancer.

I'm not going to pretend like I am some really great person because I will admit right off the bat that yesterday afternoon came around and it was time for me to go give the massages and I did NOT want to do it. I would have much rather stayed home and taken a nap.

But every now and then I have to actually do some of the things that I preach about and walk the walk so that I don't feel like a total hypocrite.

For example, I often think about how much of a better place it would be if we all stopped and took five minutes to clean up the litter in our neighborhood. But how often do I do that?

I want to live in a world where people are good and loving and help others. We all do. But for that world to exist that means that we have to step up and do those things.

That was the pep talk I gave myself to get me out the door and into the massage room.

Of course, once I am there the power of what is going on just takes over. Sort of like how it takes a lot of motivation to get yourself to exercise but once you are exercising it goes just fine.

I had two clients yesterday. And I never know what I am going to get. They can be almost totally healthy. They can be horribly sick. Yesterday I had one of each.

My first client was pretty healthy despite having breast cancer and having ongoing radiation treatments (that really burnt her breast two weeks ago) and she had a big knot in her shoulder that she was asking me about. She wanted to know how it gets there. I explained some of the causes- repetitive motion, bad posture, sleeping on your side or stomach, carrying heavy things, the cold weather. And then I said that a major one was simply stress. She replied that she didn't have any stress in her life.

I laughed and said that you don't usually hear someone who is dealing with all this cancer stuff say that they don't have any stress! She responded that apart from the radiation and losing her hair to chemo that this has been like a nine month vacation for her! She has volunteered, she ate out a lot, went on retreats, etc. She is going back to work next week. She said that you just have to make up your mind that you are going to beat the cancer and then do it.

My second client had to have both breasts removed and now the cancer has metastized (sp?) to her liver. She has a huge goiter looking thing coming out of her stomach. I had to help her onto the table, I had to help her get dressed afterwards. Just not even being able to put on your own socks and shoes? Can you imagine?

There is already so much that I don't take for granted. It is something that I constantly work on. But there is always more! I don't take for granted my ability to run and play soccer- I am super thankful for that. But yes, I did take my ability to put on my own socks for granted!

I took my ability to lay face down without getting vertigo for granted.

I took having hair for granted.

I took having boobs for granted.

I took my ability to stand up from a seated position for granted.

So just want to give a big shout out to the Universe and say thanks for all I have. You rock!

that's the way the kitchen crumbles...

Construction is starting on our house on Monday. The first thing to get worked on will be the kitchen and blue bathroom. That means that I had to COMPLETELY clear out the kitchen.

When you regularly visit my house, your first thought is not, "These people are hoarders!" (Your first thought is PROBABLY, "These people really like books!") But while we may not be hoarders, what we are is packers.

We have the ability to cram an amazing amount of stuff into these cabinets and shelves. Wow. I'm looking at this stuff spread throughout the dining room and living room and I'm thinking, "How did this ever all fit in the kitchen??"

And while I only need a tiny fraction of what we have... there are times when we do use the other things. That's the thing... right now there is just me living in this apartment... but we regularly have 22 people staying in this house! And we aren't about to say, "Sure you can come visit, but you have to bring your own bedding, towels, plates, bowls, glasses and silverware." And thus, we have a TON of stuff in this house.

advantages of having disadvantages

Do you know what the best part about being broke and not having any sort of serious power or influence?

You know that when people love you and are your friends that they love you for you!

puddle jumping

I'm used to having to jump over puddles at the corners when I am walking in Chicago after a big storm... but this is ridiculous!!!

and introducing... (drumroll please!)

I think it's time to introduce my boyfriend Michael to my blog readers. I'm still not going to do anything crazy like update my facebook status, but after six months of dating (how has it possibly already been six months?!?) I think he deserves a little shout out.

But what to say about my Michael? I call him "my Michael" so as not to get him confused with my brother Michael or any of the eight thousand other Michaels in my life.

Met him on Match.com. He lied and told his mom we met a different way. Nice.

He is nothing like I ever thought I would want to date... a red-headed, Grateful Dead lover... but he is pretty damn awesome. Just goes to show that I know nothing.

He makes a mean goose. (As opposed to making a goose mean and angry) Best chef in the entire world. I was pretty much hooked after one bite.

It's weird, there are a million things I could say about him, but I find that I don't want to. I want to keep it to myself and savor it.

He has gotten me to love beer. I adore Guinness.

And he still hasn't written me a song though I've dropped hints (you know me, so subtle) all the time. (For example, he might just be reading this right now, hint, hint!)

There are a million things that I could say but I think the most important/ biggest compliment is this... He doesn't annoy me. He makes me laugh. And oh my god, the food!

So that's my Michael in a nutshell. Just felt like I needed to at least mention him on here.

no going back

Do you ever have something change in your life and realize that there is no going back?

I used to just get massages and relax and enjoy them. Now I (and other massage therapists that I have talked to about it) have a hard time shutting my mind off during a massage. I am constantly thinking, "What is she doing? Is that her elbow or her thumb? How is she positioned to do that because it feels really good? I need to remember to try that with my client. Etc..."

Don't get me wrong, I still love getting massages and I relax deeply, but I come at them differently.

Lately I've noticed a similar change happening... I've become a writer. As such, I now no longer read books as a reader, I read them as a writer.

I no longer just read the story and enjoy the plot twists and pretty descriptions. I think to myself, "I like how she used that character's personal dilemma to further the overall problem with the plot." Or "It was really clever how she made Portia be the cook at Mick's house and Portia's brother be the chef at the restaurant, which ties Mick back to the restaurant."

I notice the craft of novels and the devices and techniques. It makes me appreciate the authors and what they do a lot more. However, it does take me out of the moment a little because it makes me think about the author, about the person sitting down and writing rather than getting caught up in the story and forgetting that it is not true and that someone made the whole thing up.

It certainly doesn't ruin novels for me, just changes them. Makes me appreciate them in different ways. And hopefully makes me better, in turn, as a writer myself.

Wooden Bowls

Rather than come up with my own post today I am going to copy a little story that I saw in a random newsletter that came to my house...

A frail old man lived with his son, daughter-in-law and four year old grandson. His eyes were blurry, his hands trembled and his step faltered.

The family would eat together nightly at the dinner table. But, the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon, dropping to the floor. When he grasped his drink, it often spilled clumsily on the tablecloth.

With this happening almost every night, the son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

"We must do something about grandfather," said the son.

"I've had enough of his drink spilling, noisy eating and food on the floor," the wife agreed.

So the couple set a small table in the corner.

There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed their at the main table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in wooden bowls. Sometimes, when the family glanced in grandfather's direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four year old watching it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wooden scraps on the floor. He asked his child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy replied, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four year old smiled and went back to work.

These words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears streamed down their cheeks. Though no words were spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening, the husband took grandfather's hand and led him back to the family table.

For the remainder of his days, grandfather ate every mean with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care about a dropped fork, spilled food or a soiled tablecloth.

what's with today?

I feel like love is just in the air today. It is vibrating with it. I've seen about eight million posts of Facebook about it. Friend love. Romantic love. Brotherly love. I'm feeling it. I wonder if the planets are just aligned in a special way?

500

This is my 500th blog post! Woohoo!

And so I thought it would be fitting to put something happy and lovely up, so I am putting up the picture I took while out running yesterday. The colors were so beautiful it made me want to cry! Yeah spring!

um, like, you know I'm a teacher and stuff

I know that it's not productive and I should be a good student and sit there obediently. I know. But my teacher was driving me nuts. I end up focusing on her annoying habits rather than her info.

It really makes me want to work on my public speaking skills. She says "um" and "you know" to the point of distraction.

So last night I decided to count them. Class starts at 6:30 and I didn't start counting right away, it wasn't until she had said "um" about ten times that I got out a sheet of paper and started tallying them. (so those original ten are not included in the final count)

But let's say from 6:30 to 6:45 (when I decided to put my paper away and start paying real attention to what we were learning) she said "um" 35 times. And she said "you know" 47 times.

And from 7:00 to 7:03 she really got on a roll and said "um" 8 times and "you know" 27 times.

27 times in three minutes.

Um, that's like really annoying, you know?



Okay, so this was a video I took in class, I was being discreet about it so all you see is my chair but you can hear her sort of. I was worried that she would NOT say "um" or "you know" while I was videotaping her, just to prove me wrong, but she does!

the games we play

Wanna play a fun game? It's called "Where the heck did I put that?!" It's a simple game, really. All you have to do is wander around the house, muttering to yourself and look in every single nook and cranny. Then, when you still don't find what you are looking for, you do it all again!

Normally I am amazingly good at keeping tabs on all my stuff. I don't remember Civil War dates or sports stats, my memory is devoted to remembering where every single object I own currently resides. And it's not just limited to my stuff, but the people around me too. In college my roommate used to ask me where her things (like chapstick) were and about 99% of the time I could tell her.

That is why it is driving me extra crazy that I can't find this stupid thing... It's a program disk for my computer. Wait!!! Maybe I just downloaded it straight from the computer! That would stop me from thinking I am crazy but I don't think I did that! Which is too bad because I don't even have a guess where this thing might be!

That's my fun game for the night. What are you playing?

I don't post a ton

Sometimes when I get the urge to post status updates I write a blog post instead. I mean, I know that the whole point of Facebook is to waste time by looking at people's status updates and pictures and if people don't write them, how can people waste time? So maybe I should write more of them.

Sometimes I take a little break from posting RIGHT after I friend a couple of people, that way they don't friend me and suddenly get bombarded with my bullshit.

Do other people get self-conscious about their postings on Facebook or is that just me? I guess partly it is because I have heard SOOOOO many people complaining about the status updates (either quantity or stupidity) that their "facebook friends" do.

And sometimes, as you can see, my blog posts don't have much substance to them. My status updates would have even less so.

habit and ritual

If there is one piece of advice that I have heard over and over again for writers it is that they should write every day.

Not as easy as it sounds, but not as hard either.

My teacher brought up a good point yesterday... we wouldn't expect a dancer to take a few months off and then get up on stage and dance perfectly. No, she will probably get a cramp or mess up. Or a soccer player to take a year off and then go play a whole game- no, he will be winded and is going to mishit the ball a bunch of times.

Yet, we expect ourselves to sit down at the computer and write brilliantly after taking weeks or months off. And if we don't, we are frustrated with ourselves.

Writing, like anything else, takes practice.

The more you write, the easier it becomes. Seriously.

junk

I started my Craft of Novel Writing class last night. I love it except for the part where the teacher says, "Ya know?" about thirty times a minute. I WISH that was an exaggeration. I want to videotape her and play it back for her so she can see how bad it is. It actually distracts me from what she is saying.

Other than that though, she's a good teacher.

She gave us a handout with "13 tips for creating the space, time and mental energy to begin, continue, get back to and maybe even complete your novel." Two of them were very similar but helpful and important.

7. Ask yourself what's in your toolbox (that is, what's in your brain?). What are you keeping in there? What are you adding to it? Junk? If so, then cut it out. "Revisit" this tip frequently.

8. Creativity begets creativity. Read wonderful books. Immerse yourself in art. Treat yourself to theater. Listen to good music. Kill your television or, if you must watch it, forgo the junk-food television and give your brain the gift of watching something informative.

You know the old saying, "You are what you eat"? I think a similar and also true saying is "You are what you read."

For the class we are simply reading one novel (The Heart is a Lonely Hunter) and discussing it, rather than having a ton of handouts. But she gave us a list of recommended readings. She brought up the point that they make great bathroom readings. You mean, rather than flipping through a Pottery Barn catalog, I could be expanding my brain?

There are many things that we "enjoy" watching or reading but do they enrich our lives? I'm already fairly good at not doing this stuff- for example, I've never seen an episode of The Real Housewives, but I could definitely be better. Perhaps if I cut my "Angry Birds" playing time in half, and picked up some of the recommended reading instead? Now there's a thought!

We all know life is short. And precious. And why fill it with junk when you could fill it with awesomeness?

And why be surprised that you have so much junk in your life when you fill it with junk??

happiness

In the last writing class I took, one of my fellow students brought in an article she had written (for a Ukranian newspaper) for us to critique. The article dealt with the topic of happiness and basically asked, "Are you happy?"

The first people she interviewed responded by saying, "Sure, I guess I'm happy. I have a good job and a big house, etc."

Which is such a typical way for people nowadays to respond... by looking at their things. They had an idea in their mind that if they could get these "things" they would be happy, and now they have those things, so that means that they are happy, right?

Sure, my first thought was to scoff at them and say, "Oh you stupid people!" but then I realized that it is hard to talk tangibly about an intangible thing. So people put it into concrete things. Which doesn't really work, but at least I understand why they do that.

I turned the question on myself yesterday and thought, "Am I happy?" And I am delighted to inform you that I am! I didn't even have to think about it or qualify it! I am happy!

Again, as I have talked about before, there is no such place as Happy Land where I can permanently reside, there are just moments of happiness... but I seem to be having a ton of them.

I know I talk about this a lot, but similar to how my perfect 20/20 laser vision eye sight never gets old (I didn't have to put on glasses and I can see!!!) being happy when you have struggled with depression in the past is a friggin' miracle!

Are you happy?

Why?

Why not?

Sure, you can tell me about bad things happening, but that's no excuse not to be happy. Sure, I wish that my foot didn't hurt so much or that my mom didn't have cancer, but those things can't stop me from being happy. Of course, having my awesome hypnotist work on me also helps. But so does wearing this comfy sweatshirt, and drinking from my favorite mug and waking up to daylight (if not actual sunshine on this gray, gray day.)

(sorry for another random, all disjointed blog post, when I am happy I don't care as much about what I am blogging either!)

writing writing writing

My writing teacher was saying that even professional writers usually only write about three pages per day. That makes me feel better. I wrote two pages today. That's something.

Writing will often make me really tired too. Writing my blog doesn't make me tired. But writing this novel does... because I'm not just writing down some of my thoughts and feelings... I am making up an entire world! It's exhausting! Even God rested on the Seventh day! And he is God. I'm just little ol' Nikki Becker!

crazy

I'm seriously beginning to believe that one of the biggest differences between crazy people and non-crazy people is simply self-control.

We all have weird thoughts. We all get angry and want to yell at people. The question is whether we let it all out or reign it in.