Prescription Drugs: Not sweet as candy.

Just recently while watching TV, I couldn't help but notice how much air time prescription drug commercials receive. Also, have you ever noticed how long some of those commercials are? Oh, and it's kind of hard to ignore the long list of side-effects that are thrown in right before the commercial ends, usually a deep and persuasive male voice giving off an educated vibe recites them...know what I mean? You almost want to believe that all those side-effects are, in fact, rare, as the companies claim. Then you actually take the drug and start wondering if maybe, just maybe, more than 5% of people suffer from the symptoms you're experiencing because...well...you feel like crap, and this time a deeper shade than before.

The prospect of feeling better with one of these supposed "miracle drugs" is quite tempting, believe me, I know! But, just hold on, upon taking the drug, whatever it may be, you might actually start noticing a change in the way you feel...oh, but it's a change for the worse, my friend! Been there, done that. Some of the symptoms are actually more threatening or bothersome than whatever the medications are supposed to treat and alleviate. Funny, didn't mean to make reference to an aspirin pill right there; I don't have too many hard feelings against over-the counter pills...then again, even Tylenol can cause LIVER DAMAGE if your system entertains its presence for more than a few days out of the month.

Now here's the kind of story you won't hear advertised during the break right before you find out if Ditsy Dorthy is gonna continue dating that loser guy who doesn't have an ounce of redeeming qualities to his name (sorry, can't stand those dating shows)...

(Cue the violins!)
There was a time I had a gallbladder, you might've known me in those days. I actually felt far from geriatric, this was way before I took the time to notice what AARP advertisements had to offer their social security collecting customers. Ah, yes, and my gallbladder: it was lean and healthy, the perfect shade of some random Crayola color name, somewhere between Oscar the Grouch green and Big Bird Yellow. It pumped bile like no other gallbladder; my food digested fabulously...that means, no signs of bloating or nausea. Then (DUN DUN DUN!) in high school I started taking this very popular but nasty pill that contained something funky known as ESTRADIOL, aka birth control. And why did I take that pretty pink pill? Because I had ovarian cysts, and a nice cocktail combo of estrogen and progesterone was supposed to knock those suckers right out. And it did...but it also destroyed the precious life of my formerly functional gallbladder. Then I had no choice but to have it removed, or risk developing gallstones and liver damage.
That's my tragic story, but, please, read on.

I was young and naive when I first started ingesting those horrible hormones. You know that little pamphlet of informative facts that comes along with your prescription drugs? READ IT! IT'S THERE FOR A REASON. I had no idea that individuals were put at a higher risk of developing gallbladder disease if they took the pill. I was the perfect candidate for such an illness too! My mother, grandmother, and great grandmother all had to have their green little gallbladders removed.

There's a lovely saying that goes: A wise man learns from the mistakes of others, a smart man learns from his own mistakes, and a fool never learns. I'm not completely trying to destroy the credibility of every prescription drug out there. I know so many people these days that want quick relief for whatever is ailing them, but I doubt they ever stop to consider whether or not popping pills is actually wise. I understand there are certain medications whose benefits actually outweigh the costs, take inhalers prescribed to asthmatics, for instance. I am grateful for medical advancements; thank God for the existence of antibiotics that destroy common bacteria like strep. I know I certainly wouldn't be here ranting and raving if it weren't for that pink bubblegum flavored medication commonly prescribed to children with infections. Yes, Penicillin, I thank you for sparing the lives of both the young and old. But even though it might've tasted like it came out of a grocery store candy machine when it was given to me as a kiddo, Penicillin is not something meant to satisfy a sweet tooth, so we shouldn't treat it or any other prescription drug as if the worst thing they'll cause is an unpleasant visit to the dentist office followed by a few root canal appointments.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

...And, of course, the title of this entry is taken directly from the first line of one of my favorite books, A Tale of Two Cities. Like that very wordy piece of literature, my life is drenched with tiny details; the descriptions drag on some times, but I've decided they add to the beauty of the entire piece, the composition of my life. I'm seriously waiting for a moment of rest, though...when is the author going to give me a break and lay-off the minuscule details? God reminds me of Charles Dickens, or maybe I should say Charles Dickens reminds me of God. He's up there with a pen in hand, like the creative author he is, leaving me wondering how, exactly, this particular chapter in my life is going to end...but I'm sure somewhere written in its lines is the phrase: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

I am trusting that things will get better, but at the same time, I am not dumb, and every day I give thanks for the way things are. As quirky as that sounds, there are many things to be thankful for in spite of the few sticky situations. I can walk, talk, write, create, imagine, hope for better times, learn from the bad times, and even talk about God or any other religion openly without having to worry about persecution: freedom is beautiful and I am free. Still, that's a fact I quickly forget when I begin victimizing myself as Debt's property.

Yes, I am in debt up to the wazoo. I wouldn't even be surprised if I owe you money...yes, dear reader, you, wherever you are. Just kidding. It isn't that bad, but if you know me, you understand how I tend to throw in a little humor before I even start thinking of throwing in the towel. Here's the not so shiny side of the coin: I don't have a job, my last boss forced me to resign because she didn't want me missing work (this was during my pre-gallbladder removal days) and, if you've been keeping up with this blog, you'd understand that I still have many doctor appointments lined up (I'm still trying to figure out what's wrong with my crazy digestive system that negatively overreacts at the presence of any kind of food). It's all really quite weird; physically, I definitely don't feel 22, and that's been the trend the past few months. Believe me, I've been grasping at straws trying to figure out how I can get a job, one that would allow me to work from home (those are not easy to come by!). My parents have their own issues to deal with, so they aren't helping out, my grandma has really been supportive...and Jose's also been a real champ, helping me out however and whenever he can. But those two wonderful people can only do so much. Even when Jose and I start wearing the rings that represent our lifelong partnership together, I still don't want him to be the only one "bringing home the bacon". He already has to worry about getting ready for law school, and finishing up this final year of college, the last thing I want is more stress for him...the thought of that stresses me out even more, and I'm sure that just contributes to my debilitating gastric condition.

Some days it's easy to see that life is good. I have enough to make it, including an abundance of love. Other days, the pain brought about by that unsettling feeling in my gut really knocks me out of my senses, and I'm not sure how I'm gonna be able to tolerate another day of pain. Then the thought of my college debt and medical bills enters my weary little head, and the overly-dramatic Sophie comes to life like a modern-day Frankenstein. This is just the raw truth, no need for sympathy on your part. It's been really tough lately, but somehow I always get over the humps, never alone, though...and that's what makes me just like everyone else sitting behind their laptop/computer screen reading these lines.

Update time

These past few weeks have been busy. Jose took the LSAT a little over a week ago, and we find out his score probably some time late next week! He studied so hard for that exam, I'm sure he did well. We've both been getting ready to move to our new apartment. We've found some pretty great buys as far as furniture goes, just checking out estate sales and thrift stores. Our humble abode will definitely have that homey/eclectic look to it. I'm also thinking about fixing up a couple of the items we purchased, it's on my "to do" list for the summer; I've always wanted to do that sort of thing.

It seems like so many things are happening at once! We went to Houston this weekend to celebrate Jose's birthday with his family, and we recently added another guinea pig to our own little growing family! We decided to name the little guy Yoshi, it seems to go well with Mochi. Sadly, it seems the two aren't getting along very well, they're both feisty dominating males eager to fight over their "territory" (or their side of the cage). We're hoping they eventually become friends, seeing that guinea pigs tend to get along better in pairs...but it could just be that their personalities don't mix.

It's been awhile since I've updated. As of late, I've been thinking more about how it seems time is going by faster, especially as I get older...and, boy, do I feel old. I'll be getting married soon...I AM OLD! But, of course, no big wedding. With law school coming up, undergrad debts/medical bills to pay off, and general living expenses to worry about, there isn't much change to spare for much else, but I don't mind one bit. Jose and I both agree that it's better to have a "traditional" wedding once he's out of law school and we're financially well-off. For now, we're keeping it small and simple, uncomplicated but definitely still meaningful.

In other news, I'm still trying to figure out why my gut has been acting up ever since my gallbladder was removed (it's so annoying!), but thank God I'm able to get out a tad bit more than before. Even though things have been kind of rough financially over the past few months, things seem to be falling into place without falling apart!

Thinking outside the circle

Seriously, what's going on? Why is it that so many people are lacking substance these days? No sense of value, no idea of passion, all for the superficial, the pursuit of not-even ephemeral happiness; just pure mediocrity and selfishness.

Gossip obsessed conversations empty of any sentence that would leave anyone feeling uplifted, Cosmo magazine inspired lifestyles centered on superficial "beauty" and dysfunctional "relationships", not to mention consumerist-suburban-mall-shopper attitudes driven by a me-first mentality...these nasty things exist in any and every social circle, from outside church corridors to the dining halls of all-girl dormitories.

I've met a lot of people growing up, it's kind of expected being the stepchild of someone who was in the military. Everywhere I go, it's pretty much the same thing. Every now and then I'll meet someone who makes me grateful to call them a member of my same species, but other times, I carry on a "conversation" with some and, upon its conclusion, I seriously feel I have more in common with an animal! And I say it like that instead of the other way around because, seriously, I think animals have more dignity than some humans; even if they aren't ashamed to poop in public without a roll of Ultra Soft Charmin nearby. On that same note, sometimes I think there isn't enough toilet paper to clean up all the crap that figuratively comes out of the mouths of the mindless and emotionally dead. This isn't even a matter of intelligence, it's more along the lines of wisdom. You don't have to be a genius to understand what it means to lead a meaningful life that resembles something other than a processed, preservative-filled frozen TV dinner. This isn't even a criticism of certain interests or pastimes, those are just a reflection of what's there, or not there. There are more important matters that need to be considered in order to arrive at the source of the problem.

What makes you YOU? What sets you apart, is there anything? Have you ever even stopped to ask that question? Or are you far from thoughtful, not even close to understanding what's meaningful because you're consumed with worry over being accepted by whatever group you're a part of? Are you like a Barbie doll, a plastic product of pop culture; fake and fabricated from a disturbingly familiar but over-used mold? If you were flipped inside-out, would anyone find you beautiful? If you lost everything tangible, would there be any virtue left to keep you rich? Do you have any genuine peace, anything that holds onto you when you feel like letting go? Would God find your soul sincere? Even having to ask these questions is disappointing, because I know most would view them as hypothetical, with the possibility of being considered answerable only by those who are part of an intellectual, enlightened, or even religious crowd.

Despite our differences, whether they be religious, cultural, etc., there are a few desires our souls share. We all seek to be understood and loved; in finding acceptance we can better have both of those desires met. The problem is, we so often mistake a fraud for the real thing. Pretty soon, though, we become fraudulent too; we develop an unhealthy ability to deceive ourselves into thinking we've found something meaningful when we haven't. Then, when faced with questions that force us to examine who we are, whether a thoughtful moment alone or a stranger throws them at us, we defend our honor, even if there isn't much to defend. We say we're right so many times that, eventually, we come to believe our lies are true. That's how psychology works.

There are many social groups we can join that'll give us a generic sense of belonging, but very few of those groups have people that genuinely belong to themselves. Usually, one "type" dominates and the rest are forced to submit; they become part of the "collective" in fear of losing that place of belonging due to their differences (Yes, I used to watch Star Trek and I stole the term from them!). So they stifle their individuality and acquiesce, no longer caring about anything, really. They get so self-absorbed, since their primary focus rests on remaining a part of the group, being just like everyone else, that they don't even care about the individual members. And, of course, no one dares to ask the bigger questions, because answering them would require reflection, and asking them would require thinking outside of the box, or social circle in this case. In order to be reflective, though, you must have some idea of who you are...but when you lose yourself in adopting some other person's way of being, even if it goes completely against who you were before, you no longer have the freedom to do that. You may have found a pseudo sense of belonging, but you've lost your identity in the process, and if you don't even know who you are, how can you love yourself? And don't you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else? Now tell me, at that point, can you really call life meaningful?

The good guy does win, but maybe not in today's romantic comedy.

I am a sucker for the sappy stuff. But when it comes to movies, that isn't always the case. Sure, I'm the typical Pride and Prejudice obsessed girl, and I can happily admit to watching the A&E version 5 times, but, these days, I'm not at all satisfied with how Hollywood portrays relationships, or even love, on the big screen. I guess it's my fault; most of the time I expect something grand to happen, the good guy wins in a not so suave and cheesy way (so that it's actually believable), and the girl isn't a completely lustful airhead with nothing to back up her looks and unusually cute clothes.

The 90s weren't so bad, though...then again, maybe I was just too young to notice? But I really didn't mind the silly romances that went on in movies like A Walk in the Clouds and My Best Friend's Wedding, because at least there was some kind of relationship that developed along with the plot, rather than just an immature adolescent-type fling. Nowadays, it seems like it's just about how fast you can take your clothes off with someone who only looks "good" (that is, until they open their mouth), has absolutely no respect for anyone, and doesn't seem to have a brain, much less an understanding of real love. Maybe that's a representation of what most relationships are really like in our emotionally dead time, at least the kind that revolve around pure selfish gain? It's a disturbing thought, and I don't want to believe it's true, but a part of me thinks it might be...

How did that saying ever get started? You know, the one that says something about how the good guy never wins? I don't think it's entirely true, but maybe it is when you're sitting in a theater watching the latest "chick flick". I guess if what I mentioned earlier was true (about how movie producers get their ideas from the typical modern day relationship) then maybe the good guy doesn't win? Not always...unless, I think, he's patient and truly a good guy, I mean, more than just nice and smart...something more along the lines of wise and emotionally intelligent. But I've seen this scenario way too many times: "Good" guy falls in love with a really attractive but not so good girl, and wonders why he's so sad when she not only turns him down, but laughs in his face while she does it. I put "good" in quotes because I don't think a genuinely good guy would fall for that kind of girl, he's obviously dumb for valuing her appearance over her character. In fact, he's probably objectifying her because he's only focusing on what gravity and time eventually wrinkle. Sure, I know a lot of seemingly nice guys that are guilty of this, but I doubt any girl with a brain would give them the time of day. Also, if any guy is willing to "fall" for a girl just because of her looks, then he obviously doesn't have what it takes to be in a lasting, meaningful relationship that's so paradoxically perfect with all its minor human imperfections, it couldn't even be kept in the pages of a great Jane Austen novel.

I know it's hard to find a romantic comedy worth watching, and I certainly know it's even harder to find a nice guy worth dating, or girl for that matter! (We don't live in a world where girls are dandy and made out of candy!) It's easy to say that all guys suck when you're a girl, and vice versa, but it's so not true! Really, it just takes time and patience. It's so easy to find someone who's easy, but it's so much more worth it to wait for someone who, long after the rings are exchanged, still makes you realize you'd wait for them all over again if you had to.

Thankful...everyday.

Sometimes I feel like all my memories are neatly filed in manila folders, divided into separate categories somewhere between the more scattered thoughts in my mind. Every now and then, I take inventory of their contents, making sure I haven't overlooked the details, as I file away the newer info (what's already been accepted and reflected on). Then the occasional emotional earthquake hits, throwing everything off, from my circadian rhythm to my breathing patterns; that's when everything organized gets scattered and tossed onto the floor. These unexpected shakes and quakes wake me up, and force me to clean the mess, or what would appear to be mere scraps of paper to a detached observer (though I'd never think of throwing any of them away, despite their dusty surfaces or wearing edges). What makes them so priceless, though they may be tinged with an interesting mix of salty tears and sweeter moments? Their inability to lose the countless lessons they teach.

There's an overflowing folder labeled childhood memories, and not until recently have I had the courage to open it up. I decided it was time to start sorting through it, while carefully taking note of the dates and emotions they're attached to; I don't want the events to inaccurately overlap and form erroneous stories of the past. So where do I begin? At the beginning...if I start from there, it's harder to lose my way.

One of the first learning lessons involves maintaining a thankful spirit in spite of any circumstance. I don't necessarily remember this memory as well as I'd like, but my mother shared her version of it with me. Unintentionally, she revealed how I could easily make it one of my own because of its ability to offer the kind of wisdom I'd need to make life meaningful. Why I can't remember it is partly due to the fact that after its occurrence, my mother did everything she could to avoid my knowledge of the struggle that gave birth to its existence. This struggle is poverty, a word I never used and didn't know applied to my mother and me, but now, thankfully, it's only associated with a memory.

The first few years of my life were the hardest for my mom and me, at least financially. In a desperate and hungry state, she'd search for change underneath our couch cushions so that she could buy milk. She wasn't working, and she was probably still married to my dad, who failed to pay her child support after their divorce. During my toddler years, I'd wear the dresses I outgrew as shirts, and a pair of little pants underneath. I also came to discover what food stamps were, and even got into the habit of asking my mother when we'd get new ones. Thankfully, my grandparents were a big help during this time; they allowed us to move in until my mom could get on her own two feet.

Thanks to a government program, my mom was trained to work as a legal secretary. We moved out of my grandparent's place around that time, and my mom continued keeping our financial situation hidden from me. Even if she had a broken-down car that needed repairs, or clothes that didn't fit right, she made sure I went to the best schools wherever we lived, that usually meant dishing out ridiculous amounts of money to a private school. She also made sure I knew how to speak English before starting kindergarten, because she didn't want me to struggle the way others have as a result of not being fluent speakers of the language. But I'm out of school now and, thankfully, I'm even out of college...with an English degree. What a surprise! And what a blessing it is that I can say any of these last few statments.

I'll never know what it's like to search underneath couch cushions, desperately hoping to find a few coins so that I can feed myself and my child. I'll never know what it's like to have to apply for welfare, or struggle to get financial/medical assistance because of a language barrier. But I'll always know what it's like to have more than I had before, and how can I not be thankful for that ?

Minds that complement each other

As I write this, Jose is studying for the LSAT...like crazy. I think he spent about 7 hours at his desk just yesterday, and now he's at it again. Sometimes I don't see how he does it; how the heck does he maintain a 4.0 while earning a double major in both Economics and Philosophy, then donate a kidney...and then expect himself to score no less than 171 on the LSAT?! That's certainly not like me. But, somehow, we suite each other quite well. I'm happy graduating college with just honors in my major, I'm far from "mathy", and I hate economics. In moments like these, when the pressure is on, and Jose's strutting his all too familiar Einstein hairdo (it's basically the look he gets when he's been studying too long; his hair stands on end and I can't help but laugh and think of Einstein whenever I see him that way) I try to convince him that we're still gonna be well-off in life as a team, even if he doesn't get into all the Ivy League schools he plans on applying to.

I'd die in law school. Funny thing is, I actually thought about going once. I figured, if I could persuade people on paper, maybe I could do it in real life. Then I realized there was much more to it! It's like it didn't occur to me how silly I'd feel working in the kind of environment that career calls for; it's so not me! In fact, lately I've even been moving further and further away from the idea of attending grad school. I'm sure I could do that, but I don't know that I'd necessarily enjoy it. I want a career that's rewarding and enjoyable, I don't think that's too much to ask for. So while in college, even though I often considered that the English stereotype might be somewhat true (basically the belief that we'll all end up selling our often jobless and desperate souls to some fast food chain not long after graduating) I decided that English was the major for me. I learned quite a bit as a result of taking so many English courses; to tell you the truth, it's amazing how much more I appreciate every book I read now than before I started down the literary path of over-anlyzation.

I love creating things from words, reading them, dissecting them...but, as far as grad school goes, I want to do something else. English was/is fun, but the future holds something different for moi. I still want to create things, but there are so many different mediums that can be used to make those "things", whatever I decide they'll be. I have a very strong feeling those "things" will be foods. I mentioned it before, but I really feel like culinary art school is the place for me; it's time to create poetry with food instead of words. I guess I've failed to live up to the English major stereotype, but, hey, I'll still be working with food!

For now, the kitchen is my experimentation zone, and whatever comes out of it, Jose eats with a smile on his face. Bless his heart; maybe his senses are completely desensitized from studying so much? Or maybe...just maybe...I do have an innate knack for cooking?! Who knows, but whatever the case, I think God definitely knew that Jose and I would be two ingredients that would complement each other like salt and pepper, however different we might be.


Our future is still kind of unclear, we don't know what side of the US we'll end up on, but it's fun not knowing, even so. A little uncertainty belongs to everyone, but when you're blessed with a relationship that's sure to last, the ambiguity isn't so frightening.