Aug. 28th, 2006

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Last night I had dreams of being in Tijuana. Adam says that he went there after getting set up in his hotel in Pasadena. He bought cute little things. I miss him. He'll be flying back to Maryland on Saturday.

Season finales: The 4400 and The Dead Zone. They were good. Poor Isabelle (or maybe not, hah).

Oh how adults can act like children. Petty bickering. Indulging too far too fast into fantasy. Blaming others for their own violent flaws (pot calling the kettle black indeed). That's a big one. Especially if they never admit to their own faults. Succumbing to peer pressure, doing something because your friends want you to. You can say no. "No" is a powerful word. And if the word doesn't work, that is why you have hands with which to push away. That is why you have the power to walk away. If you are called a bitch or a coward, so be it. You still said No.
We are all guilty, you and I and they. I admit and embrace my downfalls, but I admit that I didn't before. Now, it's all right. I know I can be anti-social and uncaring. I know I can be childish and annoying. I know I can be a stupid human. But I relish that acceptance. I like who I am, flaws and all. But some do not. Some twist the world in their heads so wretchedly that when they point out stupidity, they don't see it reflected in themselves. Never say you are better than anyone. It will turn around and bite and draw blood.
(No, that doesn't mean anything in particular, don't worry, casual observation in general.)

Feeling today, physical: Good. No exceptional pain or ache. Things are smooth and calm.
Feeling today, mental: Sharp, prepared.
Feeling today, emotional: Slightly down, hoping for a good quiet Monday.
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From http://www.cuteoverload.com

New meaning to the phrase Dog Pile
These dogs really, really love this cat. This cat must be the Empress of Dog Land.
I don't care that I can't understand Japanese. I don't need to. This is unbearably adorable. Although I cannot help but think, "Gahh... dog slobber... kitty is taking it quite well, no?"

Wince

Aug. 28th, 2006 01:56 pm
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http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060828/ap_on_he_me/preemie_drug
I wish they had been able to do this in 1979. My mother was always unable to carry to full term. I was born at 26 weeks, the baby before me (my almost-brother) born at just past 16 weeks; he died quickly.
In April 1979 they had no surfactants and not much to keep a preemie alive and flourishing. I believe that aside from the exceptional care of doctors and nurses and machines, there were three things that saved me, and two of them are debateable but possible.
One: My mother had immaculate nutrition and health while she was pregnant. She took extraordinarily good care of herself. The doctors didn't believe I was as early as I was, since I was so developed even weighing one pound thirteen ounces.
Two: Perhaps the spark that had been my almost-brother had lingered in the aether, waiting for me, and bonded with me to give me strength. This theory is not mine; it is a theory that friends and even strangers have suggested. And not just almost-brother, but other forces, spirits, souls -- something wanted me to live.
Three: My father, a natural-born witch and mage -- although he is now agnostic -- used a small bit of his power to save his daughter, bringing forth my innate abilities at full strength just long enough to pull me through. This could also be true, because many of my friends and family have experienced his powers. One of them is on my friends list, and I know she was impressed.

Theories, of course. You don't have to believe them. Perhaps they are nothing. Perhaps.

Whatever the cause, I lived, I survived, and with minimal damage: cerebral palsy on my left side (spastic hemiplegia); temporal lobe epilepsy; dyscalculia. I am lucky.
We -- the preemies -- we are lucky (my husband was a preemie too).
Lucky. Lucky us, yes.
I hope others can be lucky as well.

There. Now you know more about me, and the spiritual me.

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