A bit of drabble

I've been sitting at the computer for almost two hours now, wanting very badly to write but finding my creative brain strangely empty. I decided to read through some of my old pieces to see if my Muse might spark, but so far -- nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

I came across this piece I wrote for a fiction writing workshop I took with my brother ages ago. I don't even remember what the actual assignment was, nor do I remember the grade I received (though I do remember it wasn't a bad grade). So, in a fit of insanity, I decided to submit it for perusal. I am not a professional writer because I'm not very good, so please don't judge it from that standpoint. I write for my own enjoyment and -- hopefully -- the enjoyment of my friends. So here you go . . . .



Excrutiating Hour by Dawn
5 March 2003
Summary: A worried sister frets at her brother's bedside. Based on a true story.

I sat near the foot of the hospital bed, listening to the air gurgling in and out of my brother's lungs. He coughed, but it was hardly productive for the effort he put into it. A monotonous tick drew my eyes to the wall clock, its bold black numbers stark against its white face. Two-fifteen a.m. I glanced over at Nicole, folded in on herself in Jacob's wheelchair in the corner. Her breathing was slow, steady, and completely unlabored. She was asleep. I glanced back at Jacob, small and frail underneath the mountain of heated blankets the nurse had brought to keep him warm. His breathing was rapid, shallow, and sounded like he was hiding a locomotive in his chest. He was floating in delirium, one minute seemingly aware of his surroundings, the next mumbling incoherently.

As though sensing my thoughts, Jacob woke with a shake and his fevered eyes met mine. The irises were still his same milk chocolate brown, but red blood vessels stood out alarmingly in the scleras. His increased body temperature had caused more moisture to form, and his glassy eyes were now a perfect mirror that reflected the bars of the bed.

"Michelle." Jacob’s voice was deceptively normal, and if it weren't for the fact that he sounded as though he were drowning in his own sputum, I might have thought he was getting better. His eyes searched the room, but I knew he wasn't seeing the hospital. "Where's the cat, Michelle?"

"He's at home, honey," I replied quietly, but my heartbeat began to pound in my ears. The ice that had been resting around the base of my spine for three days began to creep slowly up into my own chest. I felt my breathing rate increase slightly, but I slowed it again with a little concentration. My fear wasn't going to help Jacob.

The nurse walked in on rubber soles, her footfalls barely making a sound. She carried a urinal in her right hand, and she smiled too cheerfully at my brother. "Do you need to use the bathroom, Jacob?" she asked, and her voice bounced off the walls and seemed to make the Kleenex poking up out of the box flutter.

"No," my brother replied simply and closed his eyes again.

The nurse checked the I.V. bag hanging on its hook, the sides flat against each other after having dumped their contents into Jacob's veins. She gazed down on the sleeping form in front of her, three distinct lines forming vertically between her russet brows. "He's had almost two liters of fluid in an hour," she muttered to herself. "He should have to urinate."

"He's dehydrated," I responded, and the nurse looked at me as the lines on her forehead deepened and her lips thinned. "That's what I've been trying to tell the doctor. That's what our roommate tried to tell the doctor last night when he had Jacob in here." My voice was nearly as flat and monotonous as the ticking of the clock.

Our voices roused Nicole, and she raised her head and rubbed at the creases her coat had made on her cheek while she’d dozed. "Are they admitting him?" she asked around her sleep-thickened tongue.

"I don't know," I responded, never taking my gaze from the nurse's. I raised a brow. "Are they?"

The nurse's eyes softened, and she tried to smile. "The doctor wants to get some x-rays."

My fists clenched, causing my nails to spear into my palms. The muscles of my jaw were knotted and didn't allow the bone to move when my voice came crawling out of my throat. "What about the x-rays from last night?"

"We can't see anything on them." The nurse's pitch had gone up a few notes and she was smiling slightly, and I realized she thought she was being cheerful.

I smiled too, but I had no intention of being cheerful. The nurse knew it, too. "Could it be because he's dehydrated?"

The nurse was saved a response by two radiography technicians and a portable x-ray machine. I hadn't even heard them coming, probably because my blood was roaring as loudly in my ears. One tech, her blond-streaked brown hair cut in a bob under her chin, opened her mouth to ask me to leave, but I was already spinning my own wheelchair away from them and into the hallway. Nicole followed slowly, yawning hugely. She leaned against the wall of small paper flowers, and I felt her eyes on my back as I rolled toward the exit door. I turned sharply and headed back toward her. She was fully awake now, and she said as I approached, "You're pissed."

"You're damn right I'm pissed." My voice hissed through my teeth, and another nurse looked up at me from behind a computer monitor. "Robert had Jake in here last night for four hours, and the moron doctor sent him home. He said it was viral and there was nothing they could do." I stopped pacing and jammed my furiously shaking hands in my armpits. I was suddenly very cold. "I knew I should have come last night. Robert hasn't dealt with this enough to know what to do. He didn't know to force the issue."

"He knew Jake was sick, but he trusted the doctor," Nicole said quietly.

"A doctor who has probably never dealt with a spinal muscular atrophy patient in his entire, short, pathetic career," I snarled, and a nearby intern winced at my comment. "It's pneumonia, I know it is. I had enough when I was younger to know what it sounds like."

"He's been on antibiotics for three days. That's a good thing."

I shook my head, my muscles going suddenly weak. My hands fell out of my armpits and into my lap, and my chin dropped to my chest. "No, it's different this time," I said, and I almost couldn't hear myself. Nicole knelt next to me, leaning in with a hand on my leg rest. I raised my eyes to hers and her image wavered in and out of focus. I realized I was about to cry, and I blinked the tears back into confinement. I inhaled deeply, and ironically enough at that moment the tech in the room with Jacob encouraged him to breathe deeper, c'mon you can do it. I squeezed my eyes closed, hearing the loud gurgle as my brother inhaled for the x-ray, then released his held breath with a weak cough.

I heard the other tech, this one male, mutter, "This is one sick little guy."

"He was in last night," Bobbed Hair responded. "He was bad then, but he's ten times worse tonight."

The door opened and the male tech pushed the machine through. He looked down at me and touched my shoulder lightly as he passed. "Good luck," he said.

I nodded in response, my voice caught in my throat. Nicole patted my leg and inclined her head toward the open door. When I reentered the room, the nurse was still there. Jacob was still awake, and his eyes looked accusingly at Nicole. "You missed the turn for St. Mary's," he stated quite clearly.

The nurse jumped a little, and her eyes went from Jacob to Nicole to me and back to Jacob, fast as a hummingbird on the hunt for nectar. She leaned over my brother's tiny body, still uncovered and starting to shiver, and asked, "Jacob, do you know where you are?"

My brother shook himself and looked at the nurse with a disgusted curl of his lip. "Yes," he responded, just as clearly. "I'm at the emergency room at St. Mary's.” He looked at me with his glassy eyes, seeming to question me as to why he had to deal with this imbecile.

The gravity of the situation finally collapsed onto the nurse’s head. "I'll get the doctor," she mumbled as she practically ran from the room.

Nicole pulled the blankets up over Jacob, and we heard him mutter something about being hot as he drifted back into the haze he'd been visiting off and on for three days. We settled down to wait again, she in my brother's wheelchair, me next to the foot of the bed. Within minutes, Nicole's breathing had slowed and deepened again in slumber. Whenever her body stopped moving, her fatigue won out. At least she was able to rest. At least she was able to block, even for a few minutes at a time, the sound of the train that was slowly destroying my brother's lungs.

I had a flash from years before of my sister Lee, three years old, with her face held closely to one-month-old Jacob's. She was rapidly sucking in air and blowing it out again, and Mom asked her what she was doing. "Breathing for brother," Lee had replied.

Breathing for brother. I watched Jacob's weak rib cage rise and fall ever so slightly and listened to the phlegm rolling over and over inside his lungs. I breathed deeply and held the air in my lungs, waiting until the gas exchange was nearly completed before exhaling again. I repeated the cycle, willing Jacob's respiration to match mine, willing the phlegm to move aside and allow the life-giving oxygen into his bloodstream, but it was no use. Jake's rhythm decided instead to match the ticking of the clock, and the ice finally succeeded in closing its fingers around my heart.

I gots money!

The grant proposal I recently submitted to my university's College of Sciences requesting $2000 was approved for $1500. I'm very happy that I received something, even if it wasn't the entire amount.

Fortunately, I can write another proposal to the graduate school for more (the $2000 I requested from the CoS was for a subset of fish, not the whole lot), so keep your fingers crossed!

Three years

Three years. Today, once again, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat in my room and cried, hard, for fifteen minutes -- oddly enough at almost exactly the same time that he died. Just when I think the hole in my heart is starting to heal, I find I'm wrong.

I miss you, Pauley. I miss you so much.

Steamed

Somebody in the voter registration office dropped the ball and failed to send out the mail-in ballots for all the voters registered here at DH&R -- so now I am not going to able to voice my opinion about our next governor, attorney general, or congress-people. You can bet that I will voice my opinion about the irresponsibility of the voter registration office.

ROTD -- Return of the Dawn

I'm still at the rehab facility healing my broken bones (work in that area is progressing slowly, but it is progressing), but the corporate office had blocked a lot of networking/blogging sites, thus my absence. However, my laptop crashed Saturday, necessitating the need to purchase a new one. I picked out a sweet little number -- a Sony Vaio with 6 GB of RAM, a 640 GB hard drive, and amazing graphics with which to measure my fish heads -- and I decided to splurge on a mobile broadband device so I can do the Internet my way. I feel like I'm channeling my techno-geek brother.

In other news -- my most recent fishy paper has been accepted for publication! After four and a half years, at least a dozen revisions, and three journals, it's finally in! ::D does the happy dance:: It should be published electronically sometime this week, but I'm not sure when it will be in print.

How are all of you?

Still around

Still at the rehab facility. Still healing, though not nearly as quickly as I'd like.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled day.

Here I am

Last Thursday (19 August), I had my second ortho checkup. My arm and left leg are healing well, but the plate in my right leg has shifted a half an inch because my bones are so weak. The orthopedist ordered a cessation of physical therapy on that leg and is trying to get me a bone stimulator to help with the healing on my legs. I'm also making a point of drinking a packet of Carnation Instant Breakfast every day for the extra vitamins and minerals -- maybe they will help the healing as well. I will remain in rehab until my bones are able to handle me using the two-piece sling I use for transfers at home (minimum another month).

Furthermore, we discovered earlier this week that my left foot has been sweating in its brace, and so I have a couple of spots in the beginning stages of skin breakdown (skin red but not broken open). I will be getting my ankle x-rayed at some point to see if I even need the brace or if the tib-fib fracture is healing as slowly as the breaks.

I actually got girly on Wednesday and bought a couple of skirts. ::shiver:: I don't think I've bought a skirt or a dress in almost 20 years. It's just that even shorts are a pain (literally AND figuratively) to put on over these leg braces.

OK, I think I may get back in bed soon and get to work on my manuscript revisions . . . IF I can keep my eyes open.

Yes, I'm alive

For those who didn't know, I was in a car accident on June 7th in which a 20-year-old failed to pay attention to the large red stop sign in front of him, causing us (my parents, Reba, and myself) to hit him at 50-55 mph. Mom bruised her right hand and knee, Dad had a concussion, Reba's sutures from a surgery that morning tore open, and I broke my right humerus and both femurs and cracked my left tibia and fibula. I underwent a six-hour surgery on June 9th to attach plates and screws to my humerus and right femur and a rod along my left femur. Basically, I now have more hardware in me than a Home Depot.

I was in the hospital for three weeks, then I was transferred to a rehab facility where I still am. I get therapy on my arm five days a week and on my legs six days a week. I'm not healing as quickly as *I* would like, but I am healing. Moby (my van) was totaled, which upset me a lot. She was a good van, and she didn't deserve to go out like that. My folks quickly found me a new ride, though -- a maroon-colored 1993 Ford with a working AC. I have christened her the Red Baron.

Isn't life grand?

Received an email this morning

Dear Dawn M. Allenbach,

We have received the reports from our advisors on your manuscript, "Improving Fluctuating Asymmetry Studies Using Recommendations From a Fish Literature Review", which you submitted to Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries.

Based on the advice received, I feel that your manuscript could be reconsidered for publication should you be prepared to incorporate major revisions. When preparing your revised manuscript, you are asked to carefully consider the reviewer comments which are attached, and submit a list of responses to the comments.

. . .

Your revision is due on: 29 Jul 2010

We look forward to receiving your revised manuscript within eight weeks.

With kind regards,
J.N.
Editor in Chief


It's gonna be a lot of work, but . . .

::happy Luta dance::

Mom was right. Third time was the charm!

A New Disability History

I have four books on disability that I am currently reading through. I had to order these books -- all of them -- through interlibrary loan because neither of the two public libraries nearest me had ANY of them. I think I will have to talk to their acquisitions person about not only not having these particular books but NO disability books at all. NONE!

The book I'm currently reading is a collection of essays called A New Disability History edited by Paul K. Longmore and Lauri Umansky. I've been keeping track of passages that catch my attention for various reasons. Here are ones I've recorded so far:


"The elision of disabled people from the historiography also surely reflects the 'existential anxiety' that disability often evokes. A considerable literature in psychology verifies that the presence of individuals with disabilities stirs dis-ease in many individuals who view themselves as normal. A more recent literature in cultural studies of disability strongly suggests that those nervous reactions stem from more than individual temperament. To a significant degree, they arise from the most basic of modern, and particularly American, cultural values and social training. Americans often perceive disability – and therefore people with disabilities – as embodying that which Americans fear most: loss of independence, of autonomy, of control; in other words, subjection to fate. The culturally conditioned psychological response to disability may help explain disabled peoples’ [sic] absence from historical accounts. That which we fear, we shun.” [Longmore, PK and Umansky, L. 2001. Introduction. Pp. 1-29 in Longmore, PK and Umansky, L. (editors), The New Disability History – American Perspectives. New York University Press, New York. Quote pp. 6-7]

"The natural and the normal both are ways of establishing the universal, unquestionable good and right. Both are also ways of establishing social hierarchies that justify the denial of legitimacy and certain rights to individuals or groups." [Baynton, DC. 2001. Disability and justification of inequality in American history. Pp. 33-57 in Longmore, PK and Umansky, L. (editors), The New Disability History – American Perspectives. New York University Press, New York. Quote pp. 35]

"Just as the counterpart to the natural was the monstrous, so the opposite of the normal person was the defective. Although normality ostensibly denoted the average, the usual, and the ordinary, in actual usage it functioned as an ideal and excluded only those defined as below average. 'Is the child normal?' was never a question that expressed fear about whether a child had above-average intelligence, motor skills, or beauty. Abnormal signified the subnormal." [Baynton, DC. 2001. Disability and justification of inequality in American history. Pp. 33-57 in Longmore, PK and Umansky, L. (editors), The New Disability History – American Perspectives. New York University Press, New York. Quote pp. 36]


Feel free to discuss any of these as you like. I will post more as I gather them

ADAPT Blogswarm

(for ADAPT's Spring 2010 action)

It’s no secret that state budgets are coming up short all over the nation, but what many members of the general public do not know or are choosing to ignore is that many states are putting an unfair bulk of budget cuts on the shoulders of people who should not have to bear that load – people with physical and mental disabilities. If the proposed cuts to health and social services in Kansas go through, the lives and freedom of nearly 1900 physically disabled alone will be in jeopardy. These are the people waiting to receive in-home services via the Home and Community Based Services (HCBS) program, but the proposed budget cuts in Kansas will force many, if not all, of them into nursing/group homes where they will have no input into many aspects of their own lives. What the legislators are choosing to ignore is that care in nursing/group homes will cost the state 2-3 times more than providing in-home care. They are also ignoring the fact that the majority of Kansans – including those receiving or wanting to receive services – are willing to pay revenue enhancements in the form of a one cent increase in the state sales tax and increased taxation of tobacco, alcohol, and soda in order to make up the budget deficit.

Please allow me to address the legislators directly.

Just for a moment, I’d like for you to imagine our roles were reversed. Imagine yourself in a wheelchair – unable to cook your own meals, unable to get yourself in and out of bed, unable to use the bathroom without assistance. Would you wish to live in a nursing home where every moment of every day of your life is decided for you, from when to get up to what you will eat to what activities you can participate in? Would you want to only be able to leave the facility for medical appointments unless your family came to get you? How often do you think you realistically would see your family? How often could they fit a visit to you into their busy schedules?

Or would you want to live freely in your own home where you can sleep in if you want to or have pumpkin pie for breakfast or wheel yourself to the library for a book or to the store for a soda? Would you like to take accessible public transportation to a movie or a restaurant or grocery shopping? Do you think you might see your family more in your own home?

It all boils down to this: do you want someone to run your life for you, or do you want to freely and independently do everything your heart desires?

I’m willing to bet you’d choose the latter. Now imagine you are facing these budget cuts, and I am your legislator. What would you say to me? Would you want to go on with the current day politics as usual, where each person, politician and non-politician alike, thinks only about number one and everyone else be damned? Or would you hope I can see beyond that status quo, that I can envision a world where people take care of each other? Wouldn’t you be willing to pay one more cent on the state sales tax if it meant you could sleep comfortably in your own bed with your husband or wife next to you? Wouldn’t you be willing to pay a few more pennies for a soda if it meant you could keep your job and remain a contributing member of your community? Wouldn’t it be worth paying a little extra on your cigarettes if you could play everyday with your children or help them with their homework in your own home?

I am more than willing to pay a little extra on my purchases so that I and nearly 1900 others in my same situation can live in our own homes and still have our most basic needs met. I don’t want to live helplessly in a nursing home. I want to finish my Ph.D. and get a job at a university, maybe even right here in Kansas. I want to continue being a contributing member of my community, and I want to help my fellow human beings whenever she or he has a need.

This issue isn’t about Republicans, Democrats, conservatives, liberals, tea parties, or coffee klatches. This is about humanity. This is about empathy. This is about doing unto others as you would have done unto you. It’s time we as citizens realize we are part of something larger than ourselves, that in order for our society at large to function in the healthiest possible manner that EVERY part must be healthy and happy. It’s FAR past time for the disabled, the elderly, the ill, and the abused to be treated with equal consideration, respect, and dignity rather than as society’s trash.


Read more blogswarm at ADAPT Blogswarm, Spring Action 2010 hosted by Nick's Crusade.

Thoughts for the day, and a geek girl squee

"We all come from the same root, but the leaves are all different."
--John Fire Lame Deer, LAKOTA



"A happy person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances, but
rather a person with a certain set of attitudes."
--Scottish Proverb



See this groovy necklace?



I now have one like it, except the eyes on mine are little clear crystals, the finish is more like antiqued pewter, and the chain goes through a loop on the back. As soon as I paid for the pendant, its chain, and my other Hobby Lobby purchases, I went out to the van and put him on.

Ford Foundation Dissertation Fellowship

Back in November, you may remember that I applied for a Ford Foundation Dissertation Fellowship. This award is described on their website as follows:

Awards are made to individuals who, in the judgment of the review panels, have demonstrated superior academic achievement, are committed to a career in teaching and research at the college or university level, show promise of future achievement as scholars and teachers, and are well prepared to use diversity as a resource for enriching the education of all students.

Hundreds of Ph.D./Sc.D. students apply every year. Only 20 are awarded. I only just learned how astronomical my chances were.

I GOT ONE!!!

*happy dance*

I was awarded support for one year ($21,000), plus I am expected to attend a Ford Foundation leadership meeting. *falls out of wheelchair* I can't believe I got it.

One more time!

I just submitted my manuscript to Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries. This is the THIRD journal to whom I've submitted this tome, so here's hoping that "third time's a charm."

I woke up too early = SILLINESS

::Dawn singing along with the CD::

Her hair was green as seaweed
Her skin was blue and pale
Her face it was a work of art
I loved that girl with all my heart
But I only liked the upper part
I did not like the tail

--"The Mermaid Song"


And if the devil would take her
I'd thank him for his pain
I swear to God I'll hang meself
If I get married again

--"The Scolding Wife"


Oh me! Oh my! I heard me ol' wife cry
Oh me! Oh my! I think I'm gonna die!
Oh me! Oh my! I heard me ol' wife say
I wish I'd never taken this excursion around the bay!

--"Excursion Around the Bay"

Quotes

"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget."
— Arundhati Roy


"The secret of the Great Stories is that they have no secrets. The Great Stories are the ones you have heard and want to hear again. The ones you can enter anywhere and inhabit comfortably. They don’t deceive you with thrills and trick endings. They don’t surprise you with the unforeseen. They are as familiar as the house you live in. Or the smell of your lover’s skin. You know how they end, yet you listen as though you don’t. In the way that although you know that one day you will die, you live as though you won’t. In the Great Stories you know who lives, who dies, who finds love, who doesn’t. And yet you want to know again. THAT is their mystery and magic."
— Arundhati Roy (The God of Small Things)

Today's good news is . . .

My cousin Josh's and my cousin-in-law Kyla's new daughter was born at 11:56 p.m. last night. Makynna (muh-KIN-uh) Lynnlee was 8 pounds 9 ounces and 21 inches long. She is Josh's 4th child and Kyla's 2nd. I'm hoping to go visit mama and baby this afternoon.

Also, today is my parents' 39th wedding aniversary! Dad gave Mom a dozen red roses with a card that asked, "How about 39 more?"


Edit: Here's a picture of Makynna, taken by Grandma Shelly.

Poop poop pee doo

Not feeling so hot today. I'm really wishing I could trade my body in on a better model, one without all the aches and maybe a bit more muscle strength. Just enough to, say, get a drink out of the fridge, make my own snack, comb my own hair, help Mom fold the clothes. That's not too much to ask, is it?

On the plus side, looks like there's going to be semi-homemade rolls with supper.

Yesterday's press conference

I was the only PWD to speak, and only three others actually showed up. Two news agencies attended. Two. Clearly, we (the people affected by the budget cuts) are not making enough noise. Either that, or our society just doesn't give a damn. I want to believe the former.

The Hutchinson News -- The story starts on the front page. Thankfully, the online version does not have my picture in the story.

Kansas Free Press -- Story here.

PILR's executive director asked me via email yesterday if I would consider testifying in Topeka later this session. I told her "absolutely."

My prepared statement for tomorrow

Statement for Press Conference, 25 February 2010
Prairie Independent Living Resource Center
Hutchinson, Kansas

I've spent several days trying to figure out what I was going to say to you today. You've heard from the staff here at PILR about how these state budget cuts have and will affect the nuts and bolts of running this organization. You've heard from other people with disabilities about how these changes directly affect them. What can I tell you that you haven't heard already? Well, I can tell you one thing which cannot be mentioned enough.

I'm angry. Very, very angry.

Yes, I understand that our country and our state are experiencing some tough economic times. I understand that a lot of state-funded organizations and schools and such are getting less money all across the board. Isn't it interesting, though, that people with disabilities always take one of the biggest hits? We're in the 21st century. Humans are supposed to be more enlightened than they were 20, 50, 100 years ago. So why are people with disabilities still marginalized? Why are we made to feel shameful because the system has been set up to favor us being shut away in a nursing or group home? Why should we have to be dying or abused in order to get assistance with our most basic needs in our own homes? Why must our freedom be so curtailed? The system as it stands is unacceptable, and further cuts will only make everything worse -- for the people needing care, for the people receiving care, and for the people providing care.

There's a sentence that has bearing here. It's probably one of the most famous sentences in the United States. Unfortunately, because of this sentence's notoriety, I think the words are taken for granted. As I read it, please try to remember that we should hold these words as special in our hearts, because when we forget the true spirit of these words, people as individuals and as groups can be treated unfairly and without due respect, and we dishonor the legacy that our founding fathers laid down for us.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

When the state forces us by severe budget cuts into nursing or group homes, it takes away our unalienable rights. Certainly our right to liberty, our right to come and go as we please at any time of day or night, is revoked. Our lives and our happiness are clearly not held in the same regard as people without disabilities. This cannot be allowed and still call ourselves citizens of the United States of America. Kansas, do the right thing, both in an economic sense and in a good citizen sense -- do not cut money further, make better use of your money by allowing us to receive personal attendant care in our homes. Don't marginalize us, liberate us. Let us live our lives and pursue our happiness within our communities. Do not ignore our unalienable rights.

Thank you.

I was on the news

Many independent living resource centers (ILRCs) in Kansas will be holding press conferences this coming Thursday (25 February) to coincide with a state budget hearing which may cut another $1 million from ILRC services. One of our local TV stations didn't read the date on the press release sent out last week and showed up at my ILRC yesterday. Since I'm one of the 1800 people in my state waiting for services and because my IL counselor knows I'll talk to anybody about improving life for people with disabilities, she called me to ask if I'd talk to the reporter. Mom and I quickly drove to town for the interview. Sorry my hair is a fright -- my little hoodlet is great for keeping my ears warm and mussing up my hair. Isn't Reba exceptionally photogenic?

You can see the video as it aired last night here. Unfortunately, they did not put closed captioning on this.

I'm still going to the press conference Thursday. I'm supposed to prepare a statement, but we'll see if I get called on to read it.

Happy Mardi Gras!

Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

*offers King Cake with purple, green, and gold sugar crystals on top*

Good thoughts, please

With the final transcript being logged this morning and my third letter of reference being uploaded moments ago, my Ford Foundation Diversity Fellowship application is officially complete. Wish me luck in getting it this time. It's for a stipend of $21,000 for living expenses so I can actually be in NO to complete my final year.

Also, if you have an extra thought/prayer to spare, would you ask that the National Science Foundation have pity on me and resubmit my grant application to the "appropriate program"? We received an email on Christmas Eve morning that my grant proposal had been thrown out because it wasn't appropriate for the Division of Environmental Biology program.

My whole dissertation is about how environmental stressors alter the development and reproduction (both biological processes) of fish. Huh?

Looking ahead

A lot of people use this time of year to reflect on the year that has passed and try to divine what will come in the year ahead. Unless something truly crappy or truly outstanding happened, I rarely remember too much of what happened the previous year. The minutiae get all balled up until I cannot tease them loose from each other. I do not make up lists of praises and lists of rants and post them on tha Interwebz because they have meaning only to me, and I don't want to get into some heated discussion with someone who takes offense to this like or that dislike. I don't make huge, life-changing resolutions because something always happens to prevent their completion.

Every new year, what I promise to do are "little" things. I hold my head up and smile at strangers as we pass on the sidewalk or in the grocery store, even if they look at me like I sprouted a third eyeball in the middle of my forehead. I say thank you when someone helps me with something, even if s/he does it for me every day and knows I appreciate it, because very few people show gratitude for the little things. I try to do the best research I can. I explore my personal spirituality and endeavor to remain patient with those of a more rigid mindset. I make attempts at creativity in a variety of forms such as writing fiction, making soap, making mosaics, or cross-stitching. Soon I'm going to attempt to make my own portable medicine wheel. I try to read widely. I try to read something or someone previously unknown to me. I try to read as often as I can. Following the example of a friend, I will endeavor to keep a list of everything I read in 2010 -- both books for fun and research materials (the latter for my own edification) -- and I will attempt to write mini-reviews of the books in the interest of those who might want to also read something I've read.

So, in that vein, I am off to drink some tea (green tea with jasmine and passionfruit) in an attempt to soothe my sore throat, then I shall return to the further adventures of Sherlock Holmes.

I hope your year is everything you want it to be.

Thank you for being my friend and helping me grow.