name calling

That's it. I've had it. I am so tired of people butchering my name. Nobody gets it right, and I'm tired of repeating myself. I was at a meeting yesterday where I was the only person there whose name had an "l" in it, and they still called me by another name, even after I introduced myself! I'm really sick of it.

It's bad enough that I don't have a name of my own, but neither of them has a short or familiar version. I'm named after two different people. Everyone else in my family has at least one name that is their own, except me. I've tried going by my middle name, but it is as boring as my first name is exotic. I don't like either of them. I never have. I remember wanting to change my name ever since I was old enough to spell it.

K and I spent a couple hours last evening looking through names books at the local B&N to find something good. Lots of famous people listed in the books have changed their names. Some are variations of their given names, and some are completely different. Some have something to do with their occupations, and others don't. My sister thinks I should have something related to my field, but that's way too pretentious. I have a friend who goes by the name of a piece of dried fruit. One of the Suffrigan Bishops of MA goes by "Bud" -- his real name hasn't got any part of "bud" in it. If they can do that, I should be able to go by a different name too. If I'm going to start going by another name, I should start before I get into my next career.

I've narrowed my choices down to three. I want it to have some relevance to my personality. One is ethnic, one is descriptive, and the other is just a different name. Haven't decided which one yet. But I'll tell you one thing, it'll be so clear, nobody's ever going to f*&! it up again.

There's still time to change what my diploma will say.

it's official

Came home from anti-racism training to find this waiting for me:














It's my letter from the Bishop stating my Postulancy. Now it's official.

small world

A friend in Michigan called last night to congratulate me on being recommended for Postulancy ("unanimously recommended," I might remind my gentle readers). I haven't heard from this friend in months; not since he and his family left Seabury to go back home. He said he heard from someone who was a Senior when I was a Junior, but he couldn't say how she heard. I hardly spoke to that person when she was here. We were never in any classes together; and I was living off the block anyways, so it's not like we had social gatherings in common either. It must have originated from this blog since y'all were almost the first to hear, after several phone calls to particular people. It is gosh darn near impossible to keep anything on the down-low here at seminary. Telling one person anything is like telling the whole community. Is it like that on the outside? Is seminary a true microcosm of the wider church? Does information spread to everyone in the Episcopal Church just like it does here at this small Episcopal seminary, taking longer only by virtue of greater numbers? Hey out there... I could use a job after graduation... June 2008... call me!

dog paws and discipline

I tried a new product on Roz called "Musher's Secret." It's a natural wax that's supposed to prevent ice building up between her toes when we go out to play in the snow or go for walks. It also prevents damage to her paw pads from ice melt chemicals. I can only imagine the stuff the city uses -- I'm thinking napalm. Once in a while when we go for long walks she'll start hopping with one foot off the ground. I don't know how dogs do it: basically barefoot walking through icy puddles, salty sidewalks, over hot pavement in summer, ... It's gotta hurt sometimes. She must know by the tone of my voice when I want to try some new thing. She slinked away to her bed and tucked her paws underneath her. Eventually she came around and let me put the stuff on her feet. She didn't seem to mind. I let her out to romp in the back yard and when she came back in there were chunks of ice all around, but not on, where I applied the Musher's Secret. Dunno where the stuff came from; gotta get more.

Also, I just finished a pamphlet that I'm using as a take-home for a presentation I'm leading at St. M's called "Healthy Lenten Disciplines." I'm trying to be as low-impact on my resources as possible: 1 page of 8.5x11, folded in three, all b&w. I've got something on just about every single line, and still have stuff I want to include. It was in itself a discipline of economy of words.

This project has been on my mind for about a year. Last Lent someone I know has a syncopal episode secondary to fasting. This person didn't understand that fasting is not something one should jump into like starvation. It got me thinking about all the different kinds of spiritual disciplines. I proposed the presentation idea to Jane and she said go for it.

I've got one other presentation that I have to get done for Sunday, then it's on to the last week of classes for the quarter.

1001st lift?

Back in my EMT days I used to tell the newbies how important it was to be careful lifting. EMTs regularly carry 300+ lb people up and down stairs, out of wrecked cars, and over rough terrain every single day. Improper lifting techniques can quickly shorten a career. I shared with them my thousand lift theory. See, your back is a very complex intersection of bones, muscles, joints, tendons, and nerves, among other things. With all those moving parts, it is a fragile mechanism. With so many back injuries reported annually I reckon it's only a matter of time until everyone's back goes out. It's no longer a question of whether it will, but when it will happen. I told them they get a thousand lifts before their backs goes out. Therefore, they must be very careful deciding when and who they will lift, because once you've lifted your one thousandth time, that's it.

I think I may have reached my 1001st lift. I dislocated a rib on Monday afternoon. I didn't know that was possible! I've heard of fractured ribs, separated ribs, flail chest, sucking chest wounds ...; I've done my share of breaking other people's ribs (albeit much less than the statistical average, because I was a very gentle EMT with good CPR technique), but a dislocated rib?

I'll tell you one thing: it rates the super-duper big ow-ee. I was lifting the spare tire out of the car, and though it looked like it would simply lift out, it got caught on the lip of the spare tire nook. I didn't even notice the injury until several hours later when my back started to feel I bit sore. It got worse and worse until I rolled onto my side in the night and woke up on the ceiling. I was this close to going to the ER, but for the thought of sitting in the waiting room for hours, only to be told that there's nothing they can do, it will resolve itself, here's a scrip for Tylenol, and follow up with your primary physician.

The next morning I went to the chiropractor who reset it in just a few seconds. He said I have a very high threshold for pain, as every patient who comes in with dislocated ribs goes through the ceiling when he resets them. It felt better right away. It's still sore, but managable.

I shouldn't lift anything for a week. That means I won't be able to do the laundry. Some of the dishes are weighty. The typical required texts for class are also too heavy. I should rehab slowly with light weights, like the TV remote, and work my way up to the Guiness pint.

You know though, it's technically a rib injury and not a back injury. Maybe I haven't reached my 1000th lift yet.