Grape vodka tonic

Hold onto your seats, this is about to get personal.

Some people just get you. I used to think that those Meyer's-Briggs personality tests and that sort of thing were complete bullshit, but I've reevaluated. I'm an ENFJ- extroverted, intuitive, feeling and judging, and as such...I like when I really make connections with people. The most rewarding times in my life are when I've really melded with a fellow human, when I've made great strides emotionally and improved myself. Connecting with people makes me feel complete. I need people.

Less often, I need alone time...but this summer it was necessary. All of the stress of the school year, both good and bad, clutters the mind...it can make you into someone that you don't completely recognize...an imposter. This imposter is a single-minded person who forgets that they know how to draw, and write, and play music. In these few short weeks since school ended, I've done a lot of necessary mind cleansing. Running along the quiet roads of Okemos, past the MSU beef farm and down some dirt paths and through the school districts, I thought (and think)...a lot. Running clears my head and helps me focus. I cherish it. During the year, time sped by so fast and I had so much to do that I never got a chance to just think and sit still. There was always something on my plate. I can pinpoint the exact best moment of my semester, and it had nothing to do with acing tests or knowing something that someone else didn't. It was as simple as watching tv with someone. Once the last final ended, and I had time to decide what I wanted to do with myself during the day...having complete control...it's finally allowed me time to reflect.

Some of these runs would be so refreshing and powerful that I would just start smiling mid stride and bound along like a dumb idiot. Sometimes, when I was just sipping coffee and reading books, I'd get choked up. I read a book called "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall which chronicled the experiences of an ordinary journalist who ended up competing in a 50 mile race against an ancient Mexican tribe and other ultrarunners in the Copper Canyons. One part of the book talked about a young female runner, the "Brujita" (witch, in Spanish) who was running a ridiculously long and arduous race in Colorado and nearly quit. It then transitioned into her inner monologue, in which (I'm paraphrasing here) she "realized what needed to be done, and felt like a mountain lion again."

The quote made emotion swell up inside me. I felt so happy for her, so connected to her. I've felt like that before when I drag the last efforts from the dregs of my body during a race. Felt like a powerful and unstoppable creature, even if I've lost my form or scuffed my toe or in reality look no better than the 70 year old running next to me. I knew exactly what she meant.

This summer, it was like all of the emotions that I had put aside during the year were finally allowed to come bubbling up, even at inappropriate times. Just like every other form of energy in the universe, sometimes emotional energy just needs to be released. You can't keep it in forever or it will leak from you.

Tonight, while getting a drink at Leo's with a friend, I felt the same swell of emotion. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the alcohol, but everything felt so crystal clear...just reflecting on life with her. We bounced ideas off each other. Some people just get you. She's also an ENFJ. We understand each other...nothing is awkward or off limits. She accepted something in our past which I thought any other person would condemn me for. There are so few people that I know would do the same.

That's what I'm looking for throughout my life. People that get me. They've been few and far between so far, but my relationship with them has made me better? for lack of a more appropriate term. Cliches are cliches for a reason. There's sometimes no better way to say things. Sometimes I think I'm in the wrong profession. Most ENFJs are teachers, artists, counselors, etc. They aren't scientists. Scientists tend to be more focused, logical, introverted. They most definitely have similar emotions, but they won't spill them so readily. I wouldn't call myself emotional, just good at expressing what I'm feeling. I don't have crazy mood swings, I don't become irrational. I just feel very in touch with my own psyche.

Another one of those people that "gets me" now lives in the UK, and I think of her and miss her often. With these people, it's so easy. You can communicate without words, they can complete your sentences. They aren't completely alike in every sense...they may have different tastes in music, tv, art, etc...but they get you where it counts. She sent me a poster recreation of a veterinary clinic painting from France. I got it in the mail the other day, and on the back she had scrawled "saw this in France and thought you could hang it up in your clinic some day." I see things that remind me of her all the time. That's how you know when you've really bonded with someone. She will always be one of my best friends.

My ultimate goal in life isn't to hit it big, get rich or have a great career....it's to meet a man that completely gets me. The last person I met was important to me for many reasons. They helped me to truly understand what I was looking for. What I was missing. What I could have, more or less, with some necessary changes. I saw shadows of my own personality in the things that they told me about themselves. There was an unexplored emptiness in some of the things that they did...a wall which I never succeeded in breaking down. If things had continued, I feel as though we could have had the kind of conversations that my friend from Leo's and I had tonight. Maybe it would have helped us both. For better or worse, I miss this person, but at least I can still look back and smile and think of them fondly.

Most every one person that you've ever had a one on one conversation with outside of topics such as weather, jobs, school, etc, has most likely left a mark on you in some way, shape or form. I think of these conversations as little tokens. The more people I talk to and meet and learn from, the more knowledge and understanding I obtain. Whenever I go to a bar, I feel like I'm wasting chances when I just sit around and talk to the same people that I always do. Not that talking to them is useless, or old, or boring, just that I'm giving up the opportunity to meet someone or something that could change my life. I feel restless. I want to meet so many people and go so many places. I'm lucky that I'm only 23.

I feel as though I will die happy if I've traveled, and always stay connected to someone who understands who I am. Without people, I'm nothing. I love myself, and who I've become, but I need to share myself with people to be truly happy. This summer I've really grown and have felt moments of inner peace so strong that it makes me feel as though nothing can hold me back. I feel like a mountain lion again.

Weather manners

One of the main reasons that I'm not sure if I could ever move to a place without winter is due to the fact that once it's gone, everyone is in the BEST. MOOD. EVER.

Recently, I decided to be adventurous and zap a few extra calories on my way to volunteering at the lab by breaking out my dusty old mountain bike. You can't miss it. It's the blue one with the ALPACAS sticker on the bar. I don't have a helmet, or reflectors, or any other fancy biking gears, but I've got legs, damnit, and I'm gonna use 'em!!

So today on my 5 mile journey to the necropsy lab, I passed many a walking couple strolling in the sunshine. I know that proper biking etiquette dictates that I should be on the street and not the sidewalk, but until I invest in a helmet, I wanted to play it safe. Feeling silly, I'd call out "on your left!" as I got closer to the walking couples, hoping that they'd move.

First of all, it amazes me that most of the walkers couldn't hear me coming until I was within about 5 feet of them. I even tried experimentally coughing or clearing my throat to see if that would help, but...no dice. If we were in Africa, and they were an antelope, and I was a lion...I'd be nursing a big 'ol food baby in no time. I even had to keep upping the distance from which I yelled "on your left!" to make sure that no one had a heart attack. In most cases, once they heard me or realized that I was nearly on top of them, most people jump a mile and hurriedly try to move over. So when I had the option, I'd just give them a wide berth and skirt around on the grass, using the "full potential" of my mountain bike.

However, this is easier said than done. I'm sure I'm guilty of this myself, but...it also amazes me how few humans can walk in a straight line. From 50 feet away, I'll see a perfectly sober individual walking the center of the sidewalk, casually drifting from left to right as they saunter along. It makes it nearly impossible to decide which side to pass them on. And don't even get me started on those individuals who break all the laws of walking and driving and walk on the left all the time. They're probably the same ones who throw off all traffic and go up the wrong side of the stairs and make me do the awkward dance around them. While in America...STAY TO THE RIGHT!! I wonder...do people in Britain follow car traffic patterns while walking as well?

Ugh. I digress.

What surprised me the most was the fact that everyone was so POLITE.

After calling out, many of the walkers would acknowledge me with a wave or a big smile. When I thanked them, they'd call to my passing form, "you're welcome!" in chipper voices and continue along. THIS is what happens when people are deprived of sunlight for too long. In the lovely land of Michigan and everywhere else that isn't graced by 70 degree weather and sunlight for much of the year, even one day of it can put them in a fantastic mood. Manners have returned. People are being charitable and beautiful again. All because of a little sun and vitamin D.

If I lived in California, I'd be afraid that I'd start taking the good weather and sunlight for granted. That's the one good thing about seasons- they keep you guessing. If mother nature dumps 5 feet of snow on your driveway, at least you know in 1 month that she'll be gracing you with a light breeze and 60 degree days. And then give her another month and you'll be sweltering inside with the AC blasting.

Before Michigan, I lived in New England and experienced the same phenomenon. Now I'm hooked. It'll be seasons for me, forever, especially if it means that everyone spontaneously slips into manners-mode.

Jesus at the Gym and India

Update:

Apparently, Jesus at the Gym (for more on JaG, see previous post "Beetle in My Water") regularly wears one of those house arrest anklets. So much for being Jesus.

Also:

I will be going to India on May 31st for 6 weeks. Get excited for many updates.

Blood and Guts

WARNING: The post is graphic.

It's amazing the things that one can get used to.

In my career as a veterinary student, I've dealt with some pretty nasty things. From explosive, hemorrhagic parvo diarrhea to a one eyed, three legged fetal monster, I've become witness to a number of grotesque scenes. But nothing beats volunteering at the necropsy lab.

Necropsy is the animal equivalent of autopsy. Owners submit their animals for dissection for a number of reasons...curiosity, diagnosis/prevention of a bigger, herd level problem, or as a way to definitively point the finger at whoever may have killed their pet either purposely or inadvertently. Just like with human records, everything is confidential, well-documented and done in a respectful manner. There are tox screens, bacterial cultures and virology panels. Everyone wears the proper protection and undergoes training before wielding any sharp object. But still, there's nothing simple or pretty about cutting up and inspecting the organs of a 2,000lb horse.

A person's first experience "on the floor" of the necropsy lab can be a bit of a shock. Everything is washable, including the keyboards of the computers. There are big, stainless steel tables and tall, tall ceilings which transition into windows that let in a lot of natural light. The floors are slanted downward and lead to grates in the floor which collect all manner of bodily fluids. The ventilation has to be good, or people would probably need to excuse themselves every few minutes due to the condition of some of the bodies. A big table with an assortment of knives and wire cutters line one wall and a band saw is sectioned off behind plastic shower curtains on the other side. Sound gets lost on the floor as the ventilation is always running, so music blares loudly from a big stereo in the corner.

It's actually a bit homey and calming, if you can get over the knives. Everything is very spread out and spacious, and the gear that you wear on the BSL-2 (biosafety level 2) floor is usually loose fitting and cottony. The music makes everything feel very normal, until a giant, dead Holstein cow is slowly brought in through massive steel doors from the holding area. She's hanging from one leg by a chain attached to a moving crane/scale and laid gently across one of the stainless steel tables.

The process of taking apart an animal is very orderly and precise. The front limb is cut and reflected backwards until the shoulder comes free of the body and the leg is bent straight up. In a strange way, the animal looks as if its giving an overextended high five. Then the back leg is reflected in the same way by dislocating the head of the femur. The bone is extremely smooth and glistening white. The thorax and abdomen are both opened next, and oftentimes giant bolt/wire cutters have to be used to open the ribs. It's a sound you won't soon forget.

Then each organ is inspected individually, and the "pluck" is removed. This involves cutting the tongue free of its mouthly attachments and then dissecting the esophagus and trachea out of the neck until you enter the thoracic cavity and come to the lungs and heart. The entire bit- tongue, esophagus and trachea, lungs and heart, all connected- are "plucked" from the animal and laid out. Sound gross? Try opening the entire intestinal tract. I always try to make sure that I'm far away from the table when that has to be done, trying to look busy by scrubbing a knife or picking up a stray bit of adipose tissue from the floor.

Certain organs are "breadloafed," or cut in strips to look throughout the inside for nodules, masses, parasites or any assortment of oddities. The head is removed, cut in half longitudinally by the band saw and the brain extracted. The size of an animal's brain is highly variable, but it can be quite shocking to see just how small Fido's grey matter is.

Lastly, samples are taken from different places and cultures obtained. Everything that could help diagnose the animal's condition is removed, and lesions are described. With bloodied gloves, the pathologists scribble their findings across white lined paper which will later be faxed and transcribed into an online database.

If this all sounds like an episode of Dexter, you're absolutely dead on. Even the knives used by this particular lab are from a knife company called Dexter. Everyone wears coveralls or scrubs and aprons, plastic sleeves, gloves, hair caps and glasses to prevent any splatter from getting in eyes or hair.

You might be thinking, who would ever want to work in such an environment?

Anatomic pathologists are a unique breed of people. They'll discuss their dinner plans while examining the valves of a sectioned heart, comment on the "beauty" of a classic pattern of bronchopneumonia or set things aside "for their collections." Everyone seems to have a favorite organ system. Some people are the "repro" guys, comparing the penises and uterii of lemurs and elephants. Some really like chickens, and will walk around with a leg and show you how pulling the tendon can make the talons open and close. You'll never meet a more interesting or warped group, who are really quite sweet, intelligent and down to earth. They all seem to love to learn and are happy to show you how to remove the capsule from a kidney or the proper way to decapitate a horse.

Sometimes when I'm in the lab, I'll turn around and look back at the clotted mess on the table, the assortment of instruments scattered about and the bits of organs and think, "what the hell am I doing?" Anyone walking in off the street who witnessed such carnage would surely faint. How is it possible that a human can get so used to blood and guts that it barely phases them and seems almost normal? Some pathologists may even touch specimens without gloves. After a while, nothing is gross, nothing is weird, and seeing eyeballs sitting atop stomachs in a pile waiting for disposal would never invoke a gag reflex. If anything, a pathologist would be teased for getting grossed out.

I suppose its the same as men and women who go off to war and barely flinch when bombs and gun shots are heard off in the distance. The brain can adapt to almost anything, just as your nose adapts to a constant assault by becoming slowly desensitized. If my stint at the necropsy lab has taught me anything, its just how amazing and complex the brain and body are. I certainly understand my own anatomy better, and can now almost picture the insides of an animal churning away when I'm looking at it, as if it were made out of glass.

I've even had the experience of biking by roadkill while on my way home and identifying certain crushed bones. No, I don't touch them, but yes, I realize I'm a bit creepy.

But honestly, I do believe that many people have become far too removed from their own anatomy and the inner workings of living beings. The amount that many humans don't know about their own bodies and the food that they eat amazes me. I know I've ranted about this before, but it just boggles my mind. The one thing in your life that you have nearly complete control over is your very own body. And yet, people stuff themselves full of McDonald's and grease and saturate their lungs with smoke and their livers with alcohol (me included) and have no idea how the body responds to injury or maybe even where their liver is. Wouldn't you want to know everything there was to know about your body? How to prevent certain injuries? After all, you live in your bodies for (usually) about 70-80 years. Time for a tune up?

Seeing those animals opened up makes me wonder what my heart looks like, if my lungs are pristine and pink, if my liver has rounded or jagged edges. It makes me want to take better care of my body so that if someone ever opened me up on an autopsy table, they'd say, "Wow, look at that coronary groove! No atherosclerosis to speak of." Once again, I realize I'm creepy, and morbid. But these are own bodies we're talking about here. It's perfectly natural.

Why the long face?

Just watched the Derby and cried like a baby. I don't know what it is, but when I see horses running, it just moves me. They're the most beautiful, athletic animals.