New Year's Resolutions 2014

New Year resolutions never really work out for me. I'll make a list, adhere to it until somewhere around Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and then it falls apart and disappears from memory before Valentine's Day. I have no idea what my resolutions were for 2013, and haven't had any idea what they were since probably last Valentine's Day, but if I were to guess, I'd say "do more upper-body strength-training," "eat more vegetables," and "drink more water" would've been on the list. Why? Because they're ALWAYS on my list. And they're always my big failures, right up in the beginning of the year.

First resolution of 2014: Don't do that shit. Make resolutions that will work, and make a plan to stick with them.

I don't know if this will work. I do know that I want it to - really, really want it to - and that if it doesn't work, I'll at least know what I tried this year, so I can try something different next year. I also know that it can't hurt to fail at my New Year resolutions sometime in March, for example. I at least will've had January through March to succeed.

But that's defeatist thinking! Let's be optimistic!

Here are the goals I'd like to meet in the year 2014

1. EXERCISE. Now, I already exercise quite a lot. I'm a bike commuter, so I have a daily workout built into my lifestyle 9 months out of the year. It's these three pesky winter months that cause trouble. Living in Massachusetts means winter storms ("nor'easters," which I initially thought meant "it's not easter." Spoiler, it doesn't), and winter storms mean no biking during the storm, or for about a week after the storm has passed. This is problematic for someone like me who loves to cook almost as much as I love to eat.

So here's the resolution: Exercise every day. If it's not cycling, it's treadmilling. If it's neither of those, it needs to be serious, hard, prolonged exercise, like swimming laps. Hiking in the woods does NOT count. Taking a brisk walk counts, but only if it's prolonged. Housework doesn't count. Yard work doesn't count.

Exceptions to this resolution: Visitors staying in the kumquat with us. Out of town visiting family or attending a conference/convention. Ill or injured severely enough that exercise could cause damage or complications.


2. STRENGTH TRAINING. I'm tired of my arms being weak. I'm tired of my abs being weak. Yes, they're weak because I don't use them, which probably means I don't need to strengthen them, but the other side to that notion is that they're weak so I don't use them, and maybe I'd use them more if they were stronger. Won't know 'til I've gotten them stronger.

So here's the resolution: Do a focused strength-training exercise every day. Right now, at the start of the year, that's crunches and press-ups. If I manage to install my chin-up bar (the doorframes in the kumquat are not doorframe chin-up bar-friendly), that may replace one or both. Might supplement. Something else may turn up and get thrown into the mix. Whatever, the muscles need attention daily.

Exceptions to this resolution: Ill or injured severely enough that strength training could cause damage or complications. There's no need to not do these just because I have house guests or I'm out of the house for something. *wags finger in own face*


3. PUBLISH. This one scares me, because publication isn't something I've attempted before, and the small bit of research I've done on the topic makes it look truly insurmountable. However, you can't succeed if you don't try because you're afraid of failure, right?

So here's the resolution: Put forth my best and most unrelenting effort to publish my novel. I feel like everyone and their brother is publishing, but need to remember that my book is no less important than anyone else's. If books I deem to be crap can be published, my book - which is insightful, has a lot of heart to it, and is just downright good - can be published and loved, too.

Exceptions to this resolution: None. I'm close enough to being done with edits that I should be able to start looking for a publisher and get this thing out there for people to read.


4. COOK NEW THINGS. Here's a fun one. I love to cook (and eat, ohh do I love to eat), but I get bored easily with the stuff I know how to cook.

So here's the resolution: Learn to cook at least one new dish every month. That's twelve new dishes this year. I'm going to limit this one, too, and define "dish" as something that could be a meal, NOT a dessert. Desserts are fun, but they don't keep body and soul together very well.

Exceptions to this resolution: January, June, and September are BEARISH months for me. So if need be, I can do TWO new recipes in February, July, and October. I'm hoping this won't be the case, though, and plan to look for two good recipes in May and August so I'm ready for the bearish months. For January, uh ... guess I'd better start looking now?


5. GO SEE MORE MOVIES. I love movies! Especially movies on the big screen. Those mean a bike-ride to Cambridge and lunch out on the Common afterwards (mmm Falafel King) when the weather's nice, or just a train-ride to Boston when the weather's being gross. Plus, there's something about seeing a really good film on the big screen that watching at home can't do for me.

So here's the resolution: Go see at least 6 movies on the big screen this year. Surely there'll be enough good movies for that, right? (Not to mention the little indie films shown at the little art theatre near David's office. Those TOTALLY count.)

Exceptions to this resolution: I refuse to pay time and money for a movie that might not be worth it. If 2014 doesn't give me 6 movies to see on the big screen, so be it, we'll just go to Falafel King without seeing a movie first, so there.

and finally:


6. DRINK. MORE. WATER. This is always, always on my resolution list, and damned if I always manage to cock it up. Water is tasty when I want it and disgusting when I don't, and unfortunately, I don't think to see if I want it until my lips are chapped and I realize I've not drunk plain water in like two weeks. That is really, really not good for me, especially with all the exercising I do.

So here's the resolution: Drink at least one litre of water every day. My plan is to take down a full bottle of water whenever I treadmill (that's actually very easy), and on days I bike, to drink water with dinner. Usually, I have a beer. That's expensive, and not necessary. Beer's only necessary when you have food like pizza or wings. Water goes well with everything, and since I'll be drinking from my water bottle (which, conveniently, is 1 litre), I'll know when I've had at least the minimum. I would love to drink more than 1 litre, but I know if I set a goal of more than one, I'll absolutely fail it.

Exceptions to this resolution: If I'm puking my face off and can't keep anything down, obviously water is out. Fasting for medical tests, obviously, would rule this out (though I don't usually do a full fast; water is almost always permitted).

Now here's the fun part.

I fail at my resolutions every year in part because I don't keep track of my attempts. Not going to do that this year. I'm putting a notifier on my calendar for the first of every month, reminding me to revisit this post. I'll keep track of my exercise, food, movies,  water, and publication progress, and mark it down. Worst-case scenario, it shows me where I failed so I can not fail next year. Best-case scenario, I get to hold this up as a "look Ma, I did it!" achievement. Somewhere in the middle, it shows me where I've succeeded, where I've failed, and gives me motivation to keep doing my best.

Which, really, is all I can hope to do.

January 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

February 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

March 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

April 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

May 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

June 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

July 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

August 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

September 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

October 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

November 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

December 2014:
1. Exercise:
2. Strength:
3. Publishing:
4. Cooking:
5. Movies:
6. Water:

Here's to a happy, healthy, satisfying 2014!

~mey

Just because I like women doesn't mean I like you

Of all the worries I had, deciding to come out, this one was easily one of the least. And yet, it seems to crop up the most frequently. The problem? Heterosexual women find out I'm gay (bi, whatever) and instantly get all skittish because they're worried that I'm going to hit on them.

Ladies, please. Just because I like women doesn't mean I'm instantly into you.

In all likelihood, I'm not into you.

Because when I meet a girl who takes my breath away, a girl who is physically my type or has the kind of personality that I'm a sucker for or whatever, I'm most likely to dig myself a nice little nook in the closet and stay in there. Why? Because like any shy person with a crush, I don't want her to know I like her. I don't want to be rejected with the "Eww, yuck, lesbians are gross," or even worse, "Eww, yuck, you're gross." I don't want her to not want to be around me because it's awkward to be around someone who likes you. Hell, I don't want her to reciprocate, putting me in a situation where I have to be the one rejecting her because I'm married and won't cheat on my husband.

If I'm openly talking around hot girls when you're around, I'm probably not into you.

There are actually very few women that I am into. I'm picky. Not desperate.

What do I like? I like girls with some skoosh to them. Smallish to average in the chest. Nice and soft in the backside. I like short girls. Girls with dark hair. Sweet girls, maybe a little shy. Affectionate girls.

One of my dearest friends is short, skooshy, sweet, shy, and has dark hair. Yet I'm not attracted to her. Why? Search me. I don't decide who flips my switch and who doesn't. But I wouldn't sleep with her, even if I were single. She's just not the one.

And yet, that girl I met at Ohayocon a few years ago, the one with the MASSIVE chest and ... well honestly I don't know what color her hair was because she was wearing a wig? She was so hot to me. Oh man. What a lady. Mmmph.

There seems to be this notion that all LGBTQ folks are oversexed and constantly looking for a mate or a fling or whatever. That's true of some, but it's true of some non-LGBTQs as well. I mean, we all knew That Guy in college who was always trying to get laid, right? That Girl who went out to the bars three times a week and never went home with the same guy? Hell, we see it in fiction. If the words "Mikael Blomkvist" or "Captain Jack Harkness" or "James Bond" don't paint a picture for you, you need to brush up on your pop culture because, jeez.

We're not all like that. Not all humans are like that. Some of us are very picky about who we find attractive. And let me clarify here that "attractive" isn't the same as "pretty" or "handsome" or whatever - I can look at a woman and recognize that she's nice to look at without being attracted to her. If I say to you that you look nice or that I like your shirt or that your shoes are cool, I am not trying to seduce you. I'm trying to compliment you. That's it. Like saying that your bike is seriously sweet or that your latest embroidery project looks professional. Just a nicety. Recognition of the positive.

Why does that get me treated like the icky lesbian I mean really.

Lots of heterosexuals claim that they're not homophobic, defining homophobia as that thing that makes you go out and bully/abuse/kill gays. I'll buy that. Most people I know aren't killers.

But folks, homophobia means a phobia of homosexuality. That doesn't just mean fear of homosexuals (and bisexuals, transsexuals, pansexuals, omnisexuals, asexuals, blah blah blahsexuals). It also means fear of your own homosexuality, real or perceived. It means fear of being around homosexuals (or anyone with any degree of homosexuality) because you're afraid of responding to it. It's okay to talk about hot guys and have me chime in about a hot girl. That doesn't mean you're gay or that I'm interested in you. It's okay to say "thank you" when I tell you I like your hairstyle. I don't want to have sex with it, or you for that matter.

There's a line in that amazing "It Gets Better" video that goes like this:

"Everyone made fun of Shannon 'cause she kissed a girl, so she hid her head and closed her mouth and shut out all the world. She is brilliant smart and funny, kind and talented but hey - doesn't matter what she is 'cause all she is to them is gay."

It's true. I come out because I don't feel like keeping a very integral part of me a secret, and all of a sudden my female friends no longer see anything about me but my sexual orientation. I'm no longer that girl who cooks amazing food and makes her own clothes and bicycles 150 miles a week and loves to talk about immigration and religion and anime and cross-culturalism (probably a little too much). I'm That Lesbian Who Might Be Hitting On Them Whenever I Look At Them Or Open My Mouth.

I always wondered why I had so many more male friends than female. I bet you that's why, right there. And that fucking sucks.

So to conclude: Ladies, the lesbians of the world probably want nothing to do with you beyond friendship. Chill the fuck out and get over yourselves.

Love,

Me

Faces of Pride 2008

In 2008, I took what was probably the scariest step, for me, out of the proverbial closet. I came out the first time at 14, decided being out sucked, went back into the closet, was a homophobic Bible-thumper for far more years than I'd care to admit, then came out again, like a coward, after I was safely married to a man and could appear heterosexual to those I did not want knowing that I'm bisexual.

This step was to come out openly, publicly, in my hometown. To appear on posters that would be posted in every dormitory, every dining hall, every classroom building, every administrative building on campus. One hung in each office in which I was employed. I saw my face on this poster in every classroom in which I taught. My family saw it. People they work and go to church with saw it. My in-laws saw it. Strangers saw it.

The strangers were the least of my worries.

To go along with the poster was a website, a Faces of Pride site where you could click on the faces you saw on the posters around town and find out who each person is and what s/he thinks about being part of the LGBT/ally community. I remember sitting on the sofa in my apartment, composing my essay for my piece of the website. I was nervous. Sweating. Shaking. Over-reaction? Maybe. But this would be my opening move on the chessboard of "Oh my god, Molly's GAY?" that I was inviting everyone who had known me since birth to sit down at and ... yeah where was that metaphor going? Anyway. Scary times.

It's been three years now, and I still stand by 99% of what I wrote, back then. The only thing that's changed is my thesis topic. I did end up running away from it and picking something less close to home. I regret that, to some degree, but am certain I never would have graduated, had I been forced to engage a topic that close and that painful as deeply as you have to engage a topic you research for a master's degree.

------------
WHY IS IT IMPORTANT TO BE OUT or TO BE AN ALLY?
For me, being out is a constant struggle between what I am and what I am perceived to be. As a woman married to a man, my bisexuality is often dismissed as being "made-up" or a "bid for attention." I don't know if people realize how hurtful those statements are. I have found that by being out, I can serve as a role-model to others, both those in the LGBT community and those who are allies, showing that it is important to be honest about who and what we, and they, are, even if doing so puts us at risk for bad treatment.

WHY ARE YOU “PROUD”? WHAT ARE YOU MOST “PROUD” OF?
Personally, I am proudest of those who are accepting, and those who are willing to face a bit of discomfort in order to ask questions, clearing up confusion about what it means--to me, at least--to be bisexual in Athens, at OU, and in the US. I take pride in my responsibility as a bisexual to have answers for the questions others have for me, but also to have the humility to clearly say "I don't know" when asked something about which I have no experience or knowledge, or have not thought about before.

WHAT WAS THE MOST DIFFICULT PART OF COMING OUT?
The most difficult part of coming out is the gap between the "idea" others who are close to me had of me before I came out, and the changes in the perception brought on by my coming out. However, hand-in-hand with that difficulty has come the amazing, sometimes painful, but ultimately fascinating experience of learning what people assume bisexuality would change about me, and watching those preconceived notions dissipate as they grew more comfortable with this new knowledge. This is not, of course, to say that this struggle is over; quite the contrary, it is one that reappears anytime the hint of an LGBT-related subject arises.

WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO OTHERS WHO COME OUT?
Be patient, be constant, and be careful. Coming out is absolutely a beautiful thing, but the negative reactions of others can and will be a reality. Once you're out, you're out ... even if you try to backtrack, the experience of coming out will be there, which can be a good thing. In my experience, it was the shame I felt for backtracking that finally pushed me out of the closet and forced me to face the issue head-on. Just be ready, and be careful who you tell first. You don't want a bad first experience to taint your memory of what it's like to be honest.

THOUGHTS FOR NON-LGBT PEOPLE ABOUT LGBT PEOPLE AND CONCERNS:
You know the phrase "we're here, we're queer, get used to it"? That's how it is. Forcing others into the closet through action, inaction, derogatory speech, or apathetic silence is NOT going to make us "go away." It's just going to hurt those around you, very possibly someone you're close to. If you're a human being, you should care enough to stand up for the rights of other human beings, to speak out when the time comes, and to be a supportive friend when things inevitably don't go as well as they could. Educate yourself. Ask uncomfortable questions. Don't avoid the subject or hope that someone else will take care of it. We're doing what we can from our side of things. Will we meet you halfway when the time comes?

ADDITIONAL COMMENTS:
I'm twenty-four years old. My life as a happy, out, bisexual woman has just begun.
This is my third year of graduate school, here at Ohio University. Where I have interests in many areas, my mind has been consistently called back to the issue of homosexuality, bisexuality, transgenderism, and everything in between. I have struggled with this, tried to change the topic of my research for my thesis, thinking that "this isn't appropriate, it's just a phase I'm going through."

This is not a phase. This is who I am. I am proud of it, defensive of it, scared absolutely out of my wits at the thought that I will carry it with me for the rest of my life. I'm tired of hiding it; yet I'm terrified of bearing it proudly. The support of my partner and my friends has been irreplaceable in my struggle to come to terms with and learn to feel pride and affection towards my place in the LGBT community and the world outside of it, but alongside it, the resistance, judgment, hurtful words, and shame of others, of family, friends, and coworkers, has been just as powerful. Without it, I very likely could have convinced myself to go on about my life, to pick another topic for my research.

I will not do that. I will serve my community, those whom I think of as my people.
As my mentor Dr. Muhammad says, "The struggle continues." And from it, I pray we'll all emerge a little wiser.

Welcome to the United States of America

A friend of mine from high school posted the following on her facebook page:

"GOOD AFTERNOON, WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, a nation founded on Christian principles, land of the Free and home of the Brave. How may I help you? Press '1' for English. Press '2' to disconnect until you learn to speak English, and remember only two defining forces have ever Offered to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American Soldier. One died for your soul, the other for your Liberty."

I found that to be unspeakably offensive. Probably offended her when I replied with "A land founded on genocide and the idea of freedom from religious persecution, actually. Why should we be a nation of English-only when so many other nations are doing great with two or three languages in use across their lands?"

We'll see if she replies to that.

But seriously, folks, this land wasn't empty when Europeans got here. There were multiple cultures patchworked across this great nation, with their own practices and beliefs and languages and problems and technology. Europeans came here to escape poverty and religious persecution and obscurity (depending on who we're talking about) and ended up killing off those cultures with disease and violence and broken promises. Then as the Europeans spread west, they decided to yank whole chunks of land out of Mexico's hands, and now we complain about immigration and language?

Really, what's so wrong about being a bilingual country? Huh? What's the problem there? Many Americans (I hate that term, because we're just one country in North America, but "USians" sounds weird, so bear with me please) think that travel to other countries is easy because "Everybody speaks English." Let me correct you: THEY DO NOT. But you've got a better chance of finding someone who speaks at least a little English in a non-English speaking country than you do of finding someone who speaks, say, Mandarin when you're visiting France, or Russian when you're visiting Taiwan.

We border a fucking Spanish-speaking country. We have a fucking Spanish-speaking protectorate (Puerto Rico). So ... what's the problem with people in this country speaking Spanish? Why can't we learn Spanish if we expect others to learn English?

Now here I'll make it very clear that yes, Spanish is INCREDIBLY FUCKING DIFFICULT. All those conjugations and masculine/feminine and OH GOD the subjunctive but - oh wait, no, that's the the problem, is it.

It's racism. Pure and simple. You come here and you don't speak English? Clearly you're stupid, lesser, a mooch, etc.

Clearly.

Except not.

Did you know that many international students who come to the US to study have a low opinion of their American classmates because Americans speak only one language? That those immigrants who come here speaking Spanish and learning English would seem far, far smarter to a great deal of the world because they're not monolingual?

Oh, and I really should point out that I'm assuming my friend was referring to Spanish-speakers in her post. Yeah, I know, assuming is wrong. But she lives in Texas, so ...

Right. It goes for everyone then who comes here with no English. It was the Polish, back when I was in Jersey. Up here in Massachusetts, it's Swedes and Indians, mostly. They're here, trying to learn a new culture, a new language, all while maintaining their own cultural heritage. That can't be easy. But you don't see them whining that no one speaks their first language.

And then there's the religion thing.

I. Am. So. Fucking. Sick. Of. People. Calling. This. A. Christian. Nation.

Really.

So sick of it I could just scream.

I'm not sure where to start with this, so I'll start from my personal feelings, that seems a safe enough spot. I'm not Christian. I was baptized and confirmed in the Methodist church. I was raised in the church. At the age of 26, I realized that I didn't believe in the things that you kind of totally have to believe in order to actually belong to a Christian church. Namely, I don't believe that Jesus was any more or less divine than any other human. I respect Jesus as a phenomenal teacher and humanitarian, but not as a deity.

I was always told that this country was invaded by Europeans who were being persecuted based on their religion. Why now is it that I feel like I don't belong to this country because of my religious beliefs? Is that not persecution?

My landlady is a super duper sweet woman. She's Indian, came to this country decades ago. Her English is fluent but heavily accented. I speak careful English around her to help her understand me. She's terribly excited about my thesis topic because her husband is Muslim. I'm not sure what her religion is.

I do know that she intimidates the stuffing out of me because she's a retired professor. Where'd she teach? Harvard. Yeah. THE Harvard.

English isn't her first language. She isn't Christian.

But she's American. Just as much as me or the girl who posted that offensive little learn-English-and-worship-Jesus thing to facebook.

So back off and let America be a fucking meltingpot for once, eh? That's what it's supposed to be. Makes me sick that self-proclaimed patriots are the ones keeping it from being all it can be.

Homeopathic Medicine

A friend of mine recently posted to his facebook: "Can someone explain to me how people still believe in Homeopathy? I mean, if Homeopathy is right, everything we know about chemistry isn't."

An interesting point. I was about to get all up in arms about how homeopathic medicine is fantastic, but fortunately another commenter did that for me, then went to wikipedia and looked up homeopathy, only to discover that it is: "a form of alternative medicine in which practitioners treat patients using highly diluted preparations that are believed to cause healthy people to exhibit symptoms that are similar to those exhibited by the patient. The collective weight of scientific evidence has found homeopathy to be no more effective than a placebo."

Huh. Well. I've been using the word "homeopathic" wrong, for one thing. Learned something new today.

Homeopathic medicine isn't the same as natural medicine or alternative medicine or homeopathic medicine, which "emphasizes the interrelationship between structure and function of the body and recognizes the body's ability to heal itself; it is the role of the osteopathic practitioner to facilitate that process." I'm a big fan of some jumble of those kinds of medicine. I medicate stress with a bike ride. I medicate headaches with L-Argenine and stretching. I medicate migraines pretty much the same, but with a nice dose of ibuprofen as well because migraines are Serious Business and I've yet to find another cure that fixes them for me (and even at that, I don't think I have severe migraines, and when I knock them back with ibuprofen, I'm still out for the count for several hours after).

But let's not discount homeopathy completely.

Homeopathic medicine is essentially a placebo, medicine that's not doing a damn thing outside making you think something is healing you. Take, for example, the illness I used to get before going to a certain professor's lectures when I was in graduate school. I'd wake the morning of lecture feeling achy and lethargic. It'd get worse as the day progressed. Then I'd go to class (a four-hour night class that lasted from 6pm to 10pm, and here you should know that I'm a morning person, 9pm is totally my bedtime) and come home with my head stuffed up, my eyes watering, my stomach aching, and my throat raw. The following morning? No symptoms at all.

It wasn't until my second quarter of these classes and their strange accompanying symptoms that I realized it was all in my head. Well. Not all. The aches and lethargy that preceded the class was psychological. Dreading the class, not wanting to go, remembering how tired I always was the following day after staying out so late. Then the congestion and itching eyes and sore throat? Allergy to the professor's cologne, in which I'm pretty sure he marinated before each lecture. All mixed together, it made for one very miserable twenty-four hours (not to mention a lot of laundry, since my clothes all reeked of his cologne after spending four hours locked up with it).

Fortunately, I'm "that hippy" who doesn't take meds for stuff unless I really, really need it. I use massage and stretching to get rid of menstrual cramps each month. I drink barley juice and orange juice to ward off allergies and colds. I swallow a spoonful of honey for coughs and sore throats when the barley juice fails me. So I never medicated against that class, and once I realized that I was causing at least half of my own misery, I started treating it with a nice brisk walk first thing in the morning to shake off the "oh god I have THAT class tonight" lethargy. I started taking my crocheting with me to class, giving myself something to look forward to doing while listening to the professor repeat the same damn thing he'd said in every other class I'd taken with him. And yes, I took sickie food with me to class because it comforted me to have the foods I associated with feeling better - triscuits and cheese, 7up, etc.

That took care of the psychological side. For the physical side, the allergy to his cologne, I took water and throat lozenges for my poor aching throat, a mug of hot tea when the weather turned cold, and when he'd give us a break, I'd go into the bathroom and wash my eyes with a wet cloth. After class, I'd take a shower, wash the cologne off my skin and out of my hair. I'd still have a sore throat when class let out - there's no saving that, short of coming to class with a gas mask on - but I felt much, much better leading up to class, reducing my suffering from 24 hours down to the 4 hours I spent in the class itself.

So, taking sickie food with me and going for a walk - are those homeopathic? I'd say so. I didn't actually need the salt to settle my stomach, but the association settled my soul (if you will). The walk cleared my mind and made me feel healthier, both in the literal I-feel-better sense and the psychological I-feel-less-like-a-lazy-bum sense. Same thing with the ... I don't know, do we call it osteopathic medicine if a doctor wasn't involved? I don't think so. We'll call it "natural" medicine, then, of drinking water and herbal tea, sucking on an herbal lozenge, etc., to help with the allergic reaction I had to the cologne. Combine the two and you've got a woman who's feeling better without taking ibuprofen/aspirin/acetaminophen for the aches or ColdEeze (or whatever) for the allergy.

Oh, and it gave me fantastic body knowledge so that I was better equipped to deal with the intense physical and psychological stress of the job I took a year later. Healing you can't put a price-tag on, that.

That's not to say that "real" medicine is bad. Good lord, no. Just that we overmedicate things without looking into their real causes. And by "we," I mean we-the-patients as well as we-the-doctors, because it's a two-way street, there. You've both got to care if you're going to get anything done. You wouldn't want a doctor to tell you that your headaches are all in your head (haha) and you can get rid of them with meditation if you have a tumor and actually need surgery/chemo/radiation/whatever. Just like you wouldn't want a doctor to do shoulder surgery on you if all that's ailing your shoulder is your posture when you're on the internet surfing 4chan at 2am. There needs to be communication between the doctor and the patient, a dialogue that builds trust. I've not been to the gynecologist in over five years because one of my gynos told me I had leukemia, just so he could run a pregnancy test on me (which I had refused to let him run, before, because I was a virgin and knew I wasn't pregnant) and another told me I had breast cancer, trying to trick me into taking some birth control thing she was pushing onto all of her patients. Scared the daylights out of me both times, and for what? No reason at all.

In case anyone's curious? The leukemia-pregnancy thing turned out to be a mix of headcold and allergies. Who gets allergies in the fall? C'mon! Allergies are like, spring and summer, right? (Wrong - I'm allergic to mold. So mix a mild headcold with allergies, go to the doctor about it, find out you have fake leukemia because your doctor thinks you're the Virgin Mary or some shit.) And the breast cancer thing? No cancer. Just boobs that hurt all the time. I've cured that by bicycling enough to lose some weight (yes, thin women can need to lose weight too, and it's not an insult, not like saying I'm fat, it's just a fact that I had fat that was making my breasts hurt and I needed to exercise and lose some of it). I also wear sports bras when they hurt more than usual, and after a few days, the pain's gone.

No medicine needed, homeopathic or otherwise.