Revolutionaries and terrorists

Interesting interview on NPR this morning with the author of a John Brown bio (the abolitionist of Harper's Ferry fame). The author of the book, although he praised John Brown's motives, referred to John Brown as a "terrorist". Some callers to the show objected to the label, calling him a "revolutionary", like George Washington. I'm not weighing in on either side of this argument, but it's interesting to consider that one person's terrorist is another person's revolutionary, and vice versa. Also thought it interesting that Timothy McVeigh looked to John Brown as one of his heroes.

50 ways to leave your lover

The weekend in Denton/Dallas was good. My littlest little sister hadn't started school yet, so I got there Friday afternoon, just in time to see the tinytiny baby squirrel that her roommate's cat had been sitting on in the backyard. It was about 4 weeks old, eyes still shut, with a very thin body. Looked kind of like a miniature kangaroo, actually. We delivered it to a lady who takes in abandoned squirrel babies.

The weekend was full of little girly restaurants where you sit around for hours and they bring you mimosas and soup made with heavy cream and salads with things like goat cheese and pears soaked in wine and tiny muffins with cherry-flavored butter. In other words, we had a great time.

When we weren't in said restaurants (or at the rodeo, rating the appropriateness of the cowboys' chaps - there was a teal pair with orange fringe that we thought was a bit over the top), we were watching movie rentals at home with sangria, bags full of assorted chocolates, and brie with green apples. And celebrity gossip magazines.

Movies watched: Wedding Date (terrible, on multiple counts), Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (interesting cinematography, but rather long, and I fell asleep), and The Life Aquatic (very similar in tone to the Royal Tenenbaums, and with much of the same cast. Good. But I liked the Tenenbaums better).

Naturally, since it was a girl weekend, talk turned to relationships, and I aired my own relationship dilemma, which caused me to brood about it on the four-hour drive back. This is kind of a good thing, since four-hour drives can be tedious when you don't have anything to think about.

When things aren't going well in a relationship, or to phrase it differently, when things are kind of going to shit, I tend to slip into a series of fantasies. In the first set of fantasies, I imagine how things are going to turn out for the best. These fantasies are usually full of great scenery and good dialogue and maybe some really good kisses, like the ones in the Princess Bride that they always cut out on.

After some time, I realize that these fantasies are likely to remain fantasies, and perhaps as an alternate plan, I should start shoring myself up for the possibility of a breakup. First, I concentrate on the problems in the relationship - naturally, the ones on his side, mostly. Reminiscing fondly about the good parts of the past is strictly forbidden, unless it's a part of the past that does not include the current boyfriend. Unfortunately, those parts of the past are usually full of other men whom I do not wish to recall. So the past is pretty much out.

Once I've concentrated on everything that is bad about my relationship, I can move on to the next set of fantasies - breakup fantasies. It helps if you have some country music on for this - or maybe the top 40 countdown with Rick Dees or something. Lots of breakup songs there. There are a lot of details to be worked out here, including:

-when to break up. After the MA qualifying exam, definitely. Maybe after the entire degree program is completed (only one more semester).

-whether a formal breakup is even necessary, as you've had several relevant discussions previously, and nothing has changed. He should know that it's coming. All the same, it would be nice to surprise him a bit, perhaps, which brings me to the question of

-the note. Dramatically speaking, packing up and having the person come home unaware, only to find the note, seems most satisfying. It has the advantage of being slightly cruel, while being perhaps easier on both parties in the long run. And you get to go out with dignity and composure, rather than with screaming accusations and crying. The note could be something understated; no more than one or two sentences is best, I think - something like this: "I love you, but I'm absolutely tired of fucking waiting around for you. Plus, you golf too much." Or: "I'm off to Italy to drink heavily and have loads of casual sex. Don't bother calling." Or: "I just met my soulmate. He has a bigger penis than you do. I'm taking the cat." Hmm. Lots of options here, and it is not even necessary to be strictly truthful. A good argument can also be made that it would be equally dramatic to leave without a note (and easier, since you don't have to think about what to write.

Of course, practical considerations intrude eventually. In your fantasy, perhaps, you're packing up your car and getting ready to drive off (having left or not left a suitable note), and you realize that you're not technically sure where you're driving to (can't drive around aimlessly for weeks with the price of gas these days). Moreover, there's not a lot of room in the car for packing stuff. You could put the computer in the trunk, but it might get too hot in there (perhaps should leave in the winter, then), and you'll most certainly have to do a wardrobe purge - several pairs of shoes will be sacrificed. And you can't take all of your books. Maybe not even any of them. And there has to be room for the cat...

"voluminous, pasty, and greasy, leaving an oil slick on the surface of the water"

It's been a busy week; classes started, and I've been whittling down my to-do list. I'm taking Testing for Language Teachers, Statistical Reasoning for the Behavioral Sciences, and Grammar. Plus, I have my MA qualifying exam next month, and I have to write my creative component (thesis for lazy people) some time this semester. This weekend, however, I'm off to Dallas to hang out with my little brother and sister and use up some free tickets to the Mesquite National Championship Rodeo (highly recommended, if you've never gone).

I promise to stop with the posts on bodily functions soon, and I'm sure that as soon as I have my master's degree, I will be much more mature and no longer interested in such things. However, I was recently reminded of a fabulous site I had seen over two years ago when I asked myself the question - what does it mean when poop floats?

When reading the following, please note the brilliant line contained herein: "Stools that float but are voluminous, pasty, and greasy, leaving an oil slick on the surface of the water in your toilet, may mean that your eating to much fat..." Need I say more? The man has a knack with words, even if he has the occasional grammatical glitch or two.

Plus, I figure that it kind of fits in with the last post.

stools
Thu, 30 Jan 1997 13:54:56 GMT

I have a book that tells the different types of stools and how frequent and
how to test how frequent the movements are. I will be quoting from the
book hope this helps any questions.

COLOR: Your feces' normal color is brown because colonic bacteria make
brown pigments out of bile that your liver secrets into your small
intestine to help you absorb fats. Although feces do change in appearance
from day to day, only dramatic, lasting shifts in color are potentially
important. For example, you feces may be red or black for a day because
you consumed a generous portion of beets, meat, chocolate, hydrox cookies,
licorice, cheries or even over the counter remedies like pepto bismol or
iron pills. But if your stool remains consistently black, you may have
bleeding in your upper gastrointestinal tract. Occasionally bloody streaks
on the outside of your stool may come from hemorrhoids or temporary anal
irritation. If blood appears persistently, and appears to be mixed into
your stool, your lower gastrointestinal tract may be bleeding. In either
case you need to see your doctor.

Unless you have been eating foods high in chlorophyll, a yellow or greenish
stool is usually a sign of diarrhea and transit time that is to rapid. If you take antibiotics, this color may mean that your bowel has been sterilized. A tan or clay color may indicate that you eaten too much fat, or that your bile duct is blocked and is not producing enough digestive enzymes. If your stool turns almost white, the culprit may be antacids or excess calcium supplements.

A small, dry stool that sinks to the bottom of your toilet bowl indicates a
diet that is too high in meat. But a floating stool is not a sign of sign
of a diet high in fiber, rapid transit time, and general digestive health.
A stool that floats but is too loose is sign of diarrhea and, consequently,
malabsorption-perhaps due to irritable bowel syndrome. Narrow, ribbonlike
stools are a common clue to irritable bowel syndrome, or even a partial
obstruction in your intestinal tract. Stools that float but are voluminous, pasty, and greasy, leaving an oil slick on the surface of the water in your toilet, may mean that your eating to much fat, or that you are having trouble absorbing fat normally because enzyme production has declined. This type of stool also be a sign of celiac sprue or pancreatitis.

You should be able to see only a very few undigested food particles or
fibers in your stool. If you spot a substantial number, you may not be
chewing your food thoroughly enough. Or you may lack crucial digestive
enzymes.

You should also not see any mucous or pus in your stool. The presence of
mucous may indicate that you have IBD syndrome, food allergies, or an
inflammation of your intestinal wall, probably thanks to Candida infection.
Pus may be a warning sign of diverticulitus or parasites. If you have
diarrhea with both mucous or pus, your trouble may be UC or a parasitic
infection. Bloody diarrhea accompanied by mucous can mean colitis or
Crohn's disease.

SMELL A FALSE CLUE: A popular myth among advocates of colonics and colon
health is that a healthy stool has no odor. In fact, there is no such
thing as an odorless stool. Meat eaters do tend to have more odoriferous
stool, because protein may yield residues of nitrogen and sulfur, but it is
neither possible nor desirable to eliminate odor from stool.
Well I know its long but I think this will answers some questions regarding
stool.

Jim Prousalis,
j-pro@mindspring.com

Finger lengths, lesbianism, mating primates, and the library

So, I went to get a library card this morning, because I have a long drive this weekend and I wanted some books on tape/cd. I got the card, picked out my books on tape, and sat down with a copy of People and Psychology Today. Nothing particularly interesting to report from People, since I had already read Star this week (most notably, their cover story: "Jess's Butt Goes Flat! Then: Curvy! Now: Flat! What REALLY happened!*)

However, in Psychology Today, there were two articles which caught my eye, in addition to the usual articles on why cohabiting leads to weaker marriages. The first of these discussed male and female finger patterns. Supposedly, most males have ring fingers longer than their index fingers, while most females have ring and index fingers of equal length, or slightly longer index fingers. This is supposed to be a result of exposure to testosterone during fetal deveopment - the more testosterone you get, the longer your ring finger is relative to your index finger.

Naturally, at this point I looked at my own hands, and was shocked to find that my own ring fingers are considerably longer than my index fingers. So, I have man hands, just like that chick on Seinfeld. What could this mean? Apparently, females with longer ring fingers tend to exhibit more "male" types of behaviors (assertiveness, aggressiveness), and also tend to be gay.

I'll leave you with that thought while I discuss the next article, which was titled something like "Females may be more easily aroused than you think!" This article described the usual type of experiment: "let's hook people's genitals up to blood flow monitoring equipment and show them different porn flicks". They showed them hetero, homo, and Discovery-channel style porn (mating non-human primates), and found that the men were mostly only aroused by the hetero porn, whereas women were aroused by all three types, although they reported only being aroused by the hetero porn. Odd.

*For those of you who are curious, and I know you are, there are three theories discussed in the article, along with relevant pictures: the butt implant theory (deemed not likely), the personal trainer/workout/diet theory (deemed somewhat likely), and the padded panties theory (deemed most likely - and what I myself would have done in her case).

Balls and Bladder infections

Sunday night, we got back from a fantastic vacation. Yesterday, Matt left, having bought a one-way ticket to Harrisburg, PA, and this morning, Ozzy is getting his testicles removed. Not a stellar beginning to the week so far. Especially not for Ozzy (don't be too alarmed at these developments: Matt had to go for work, and Ozzy is a male cat, although I'm still having conscience twinges about the morality of sterilizing innocent creatures).

I took my last antibiotic this morning for the raging bladder infection that I mistakenly diagnosed as a poop pregnancy due to too much Mtn. Dew and vending machine food. I always thought privately, growing up, that people (in this case, people = my sister)who complained about bladder infections were pansies - how much could a bladder possibly hurt, for godssakes??

Plenty, as it turns out. I had my first introduction to the dreaded UTI last February. I thought I had appendicitis at first, the pain was that bad. This time, my first clue that it was something other than a poop pregnancy was when I began having to pee rougly every 15 minutes. It was like diarrhea of the bladder - the kind where you sit down to pee, get up, and immediately have to pee again, even before you've properly pulled up your sweatpants (note that you're definitely not going to be wearing anything with a zipper. That would be beyond foolish).

Then I got a hideous bachache while out getting an oil change at Wal-Mart's "express" service. Which took three hours. After unsuccessfully hobbling around the store for a bit, I had to take a seat at the sub-par McD's contained within - I say "sub-par" because it didn't have ice cream cones, which is what I wanted at the moment. The backache, I later found out, is really a kidney-ache, which happens when your bladder infection rages on unchecked, with the bacteria multiplying ever 20 minutes, and marches on to the kidneys, another surprisingly painful region of the body when properly infected.

The antibiotic, I found, is another one of those things which produces a near pregnancy experience. You start popping them at breakfast, and end up by lunchtime with a three-month's pregnant stomach from the warring bacteria and noxious gases swirling around in there. I say, "swirling", and "gases", but don't get the wrong impression; there was nothing airy or ethereal about my stomach.

Anyhow, I'm cured for the moment, but entirely alone - minus one Matt and one Ozzy. I will perhaps recap my vacation later this week.