Rants from the Crib

An Ob/Gyn gone mad

Archive for the category “Daily Prompt”

Daily Prompt: Irrelevant

I could tell you
Humanity is fucked.

That an extinction level event is a thing
We may see before we see our children’s children be.

Sometimes I pray for our extinction
I would beautifully explode, taking all of us
And it would be worth the price of the last admission.

The unwashed huddled starving desperate masses think politics
And TV news and fights are about them
Little things are tossed at them reluctantly, hushpuppies to sled dogs
Small mercies smuggled into fine print by a few, who give a shit enough
To hide them in an infinity of rotting pork
While fatcat smug suspendered reapers give the elbow, side-eye
Wink wink, smirk and nudge nudge.

And we think we’re comets, crazy stars with possibilities
The forefathers promised us, but worried secretly, so much doubt
About the human sky, we think it’s up
And don’t look down where possibilities go
To die

The actual sky instead, some imagination there
We watch, not knowing that it is not what we think that we might see
Aliens or dystopian postapocalyptic fantasies that movies weave
Those themes might not turn out better, but at least differently
Pieces of thoughts that aliens and designer diseases and EMP’s
Might bring a world where fighting, honor and strength might matter again
We are imagining disasters that might change something
Because we can’t handle the truth of infinite lies.

Things down here are always worse and stranger than we thought.
The news is real.
Reality is fake,
And terrifying if you look into it
Like the abyss that looks back into you, and the cynicism you’re fighting
Tangles with the abyss, and breeds hate and rage and despair.

How dare anyone tell the truth of power,
Look into the stagnant murk and rot of too much everything
The throways are unaware, no foundation to understand
Lies, immorality, chortling yachted privilege
Greed, atrocities of mind and deed
Lust for platinum power controlling clutching things

Lust for serfs is so very cheap
Seeking emptiness and numbing pain, but thinking it something else
The lonely, broke, and broken stare at screens of grotesque couplings
Shiny infinite porn: the new opium of the masses
Nervous fingers on a button that hides the screen
Watching fake people having fake sex; the nickel freak show at the circus
But with a happy ending.

Religion was a little better.

The covetousness of the highest castes, paid-for, so-important
A terrifying appetite for more expensive things than money or sex
Souls and lives and steering future history for gain.
A magic show where all the things are stolen
The magician waves the shiny girl and flips the house, and cooks deliciously on TV
And the foolish dream that joining the show could make them someone
When no one understands what someone means.

Tenements left so lethal that the land will be ripe for shiny towers soon
The sweating, scorned, and feared child soldiers make
Distraction, an immediate fear that turns heads anywhere but up
Swaggering bullet holes suck anger into places, except where anger should be sent
The sad tiny creatures scrabble, make warring villages that shouldn’t be
Between colors in shades of suspicion, to distract, and
Oil and grease the wealthy’s sanction of inner city war
Failure Castes our country swears it doesn’t have.

The new American dream is a Wreck and a Check,
A spin of a wheel and the transfixing banging bouncing ping-pong balls
More dreams: frantic scratching silver wax on cardboard in bodegas
Gambling, a tax on those who can’t do math.
An unlucky break, a death, blame the tired docs
Who couldn’t stop the will of any god, makes them
Cough up from coffers they haven’t had for years and years, and
Deep pockets of no-shitgiving insurance
Run by yachts and James Bond cars.
The lawyers keep almost all, of course, and live in biggish homes with hopes for bigger
But you might afford a new bass boat, or a shiny new TV to take your mind away.

What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas; a poor man’s Vegas
Craves lustful tales of desperate debauchery, frantic to be lame enough for reality TV
But only your money stays in Vegas; the nightmares follow you home.

There is a Power’s lust for glittering gold, possession and repression
Even the lust is beyond poverty’s imagination
Although the poor swear they can imagine it.

Fast things.

Did you know you can buy a hundred thousand dollar sapphire razor
With free resharpening for life, of course
Sleek shiny conveyances with fins and tails and dual exhausts
Flashy place to flashier place, fast boring anytime sex
Where the only price paid by the rich for whores and pretty stuff
Are the hopes of the aspiring clutching underbelly
Grabbing on coattails of fame, or shiny new wealth, star-fucking
It is said that things are only given to those who could buy them easily.

Despite the desperate hopes of the empty wallets day to day
It is not virtue and hard work, but monsters who have all the things
Who are taking more, despite having all of it already.
Screwing over those already screwed
Nailing them to jobs where you actually have to work, and pay for the privilege
Of having no privilege and often no work, but you still have to pay.

Trapped and terrified and stuck where light is always a train and lortabs slow it down
And taxes and taxes and cigarettes by the case and cheap beer with a tinny taste
While real yachts and swinging flapper beads and artful fleeting ice swans are
But only in movies do the tragic cannon fodder see
Through a wavy looking glass, opulence more real than film can capture and display
Where true wealth and power are worth a thousand words.

No, a million words.

A million moving pictures.

A billion dollars.

But that would be irrelevant.

via Daily Prompt: Irrelevant


Depth: Weekly Photo Challenge



Old Barn


I loved photographing this beautiful barn.  I didn’t dare go inside – fear of rats, nails, and sudden collapse.


Express Yourself: Weekly Photo Challenge

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Express Yourself.”


Funhouse Self-Portrait

Me in a nutshell.  A little quirky, a little bohemian, a little tripped out.  And always a photographer.

A Moment In Time: The Daily Post

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Moment in Time.”


I am a traveling doctor and I have a new job for a few months, in Fargo, North Dakota.  Brr.  Everyone is really nice here, and the facilities are awesome.  In the center of the hospital is an atrium that goes all the way up to the top floor, which is where I work.  The first time I leaned over to look, I got dizzy.  My next thought:  I gotta get a picture of that!  Then I thought:  I will probably drop my phone over the edge!  It took me two days to work up the nerve to take the pic, clutching the phone with both shaking hands, visions of the phone falling six stories and smashing into a patient at the bottom.  Good thing the phone had vision stabilization.

Serenity: Weekly Photo Challenge

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Serenity.”


Old Mama Dog

Old Mama Dog watches patiently over her empty barn

Shadowed: Weekly Photo Challenge

Disco Dock

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Shadowed.”

My daughter dances on a lighted dock in Stockholm, Sweden.

Warmth: Weekly Photo Challenge

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Warmth.wpid-img_20140709_125953405.jpg

Nothing much warmer than a hothouse full of orchids.  One of my husband’s memories from his dad:  he inherited an orchid and that started our collection.  This bloom arrived in time for my daughter’s ninth birthday.

All Or Nothing?

The question was posed:  is it more dangerous to want everything or nothing?

I think desiring everything can be an indication of ambition, if what you want is intangible.  Failure to narrow down these aspirations make one the proverbial “Jack of all Trades,  and Master of None.”  Those of us with this issue of course refer to ourselves as “Renaissance” persons.  It sounds better.

I had no goals in high school.  Except to survive.

Desire for things is a  symptom of the commercialization fed to us every day; we are bombarded:  ads on TV, ads online, the lure of a glistening store.

The sellers know, the more we are dissatisfied with ourselves, the more we are likely to buy a product.  “If I just bought this wrinkle cream, I would look younger and more desirable.”  “If I bought this treadmill, I would lose weight and be sexy.”  It is human nature to desire to improve, fit in, and of course, find a “better” mate.  And society has persuaded us, tragically, that this results from conspicuous consumption, not from internal change.

Desiring many things can also indicate greediness, addiction, hoarding issues, and narcissicism,  where people may spend more than they can afford, landing themselves in debt and jeopardizing their family’s finances.

I confess, I do want everything. Things.  In my case, I want to improve my looks, and to fit in with my peer groups, and I have definite packrat tendencies.  I love to shop, and sometimes I engage in retail therapy.  I shop when I feel bad, I shop when I feel good, I shop because I love to bring home piles of lovely things to add to my treasure troves of clothing, art and jewelry supplies, books, stationery, eclectic decorating items.  My interests are wide.  And since high school, I have harbored the conviction that the more “cool” things I have, the safer from criticism and ostracism I will be.

Wanting no material things; that’s good.  We could use more asceticism in life.  A simple life is examined and confident.

But wanting nothing; that can be scarier still.  I realized one day, a few years back, that despite hoarding my precious supplies of material things, that I have no goals left.

I had a goal to go to college; I finished with a whopper GPA .  Check.  Next goal: have fun.  Did that in spades.  Overdid that.  Next stop, medical school.  Made straight A’s my first two years, and nearly that the second two.  Check.  Next stop, residency.  Chose a specialty and spend a grueling 4 years training, being hazed, overworked and psychologically abused.  Survived it, and I never let them see me cry.  Check, check, check, check.

I bought the car of my dreams, a Porsche Carrera, after graduating.   Goal met.  I wanted to get married.  Finally met and married my husband at the ripe old age of 35.  Goal met.  We wanted children, and I produced a daughter with frightening speed.

And one day, I woke up and I realized there was nothing left.  All those life goals, done.  What else is there?   What do I want now?  What life achievement is out there?

I’ve given this a fair bit of thought.

Many aspire for grandchildren, which would be nice, but it is not a goal for me.

I want to make more friends.  I guess that’s sort of a goal.

I’d like to simplify my life by divesting myself of these possessions.  But I don’t really want to.

I want to improve my jewelry techniques and make selling my work more of a career and less of a hobby.  It’s a dream I cannot realize, since the loss of income would be unacceptable. That would be a goal, but it is inconveniently imaginary.

I want to get in better shape, but do I really?  I abhor gyms; they bore me, and I don’t go.  Must not be much of a goal, if I’m not doing anything about it..

I would like to write a book.  It may or may not happen.  I know I do have one in me.  It’s probably the only true goal I have left.

What I really want is to quit my job.  Scarcely a positive move.

Not wanting anything is an abyss you stare into.  There is nothing at the bottom of it, at the end of it.  In essence, life is over.  I feel I should just cede what’s left to the next generation.

Not wanting is the end of the road.  It brings on an unsurmountable depression.  I am reminded always of Peggy Lee’s song “Is That All There Is?”  I learned it as a kid, but didn’t realize the sadness and truth in it until I was older.

If you want material things, at least you are alive in a small way.  You are moving toward something, persuading yourself that amassing collections is a vital “hobby”.

I’ve always felt I want too many tangible things, but that never gave me this sinking feeling that there is nothing left to achieve.  That is a special kind of hell.  A bottomless pit.  And when hope is gone, that is a very, very dangerous thing.  A person with nothing to lose is a disaster waiting to happen.

Leftovers Sandwich: Never Discuss Religion…*

I must be a heathen. I’m sure that’s what my neighbors say, behind my back. I have committed the cardinal sin. I live in a state where not attending church arouses suspicions of, say, communism, or bodies buried in the back yard, or satanism, or worse, possibly believing in equality for all members of society. Actually, going to church is not good enough. It has to be a Southern Baptist church. There is literally one Jewish family in my “city” of roughly 70,000. I’m not really sure why they would want to stay here.

We were unacceptable weirdos when we first moved to the south. My parents were, until they retired, both university professors, which put them on the edge of society, to say the least. Mom was a practicing Catholic when she was younger, but she and my dad really weren’t going to church by the time I was old enough to remember. She said they went to Catholic church where I was born in LA (Los Angeles, NOT Lower Alabama, as our locals might believe), because the churches were cool and funky and had guitar music and actually seemed to be run by educated people. Mom said they tried to go to church when they moved down here, but that the clergy all seemed poorly educated, judgmental and inflexible. I am reasonably sure she is right. But where I grew up, even being Catholic was considered weird. There were a handful of Catholic families in my WSB (White Southern Baptist) school, and even they were viewed with some narrow-eyed suspicion.

I really only remember going to church when Mom’s relatives were in town, plus maybe Easter and Christmas Eve. Holiday Catholics. Catholic Lite – one third less guilt. The Catholic ritual made me nervous as I was never taught it, and all the crossing, dipping, genuflecting and eating of suspect germy crackers and drinking of stale grape juice made me nervous. I never knew when to stand or when to sit, so I just popped up and down like a cork and tried to copy the people around me. The rosary blew my mind. I felt anxious in church; it was a game whose rules were never explained to me. I never took communion, because I was never confirmed. Actually, I don’t believe I was even baptised. So I guess I am going to hell. But why do I find it so hard to believe that a merciful God would damn someone to hell for failing to practice a ritual that is only one of a million rituals performed by many, many religions and their variants? How could He allow there to be only one correct religion, and the rest of the people on the planet not be in on the joke? And why the hell do we always refer to God as male? I personally doubt that our Higher Power has any gender at all. Blasphemy! Gasp!

In the deep South, being Baptist isn’t even sufficient. Each church is deeply suspicious of the others: the Church of Christ, The First Bible Church, Pentecostals, Church of God, the footwashers, the revivalists, the snake handlers. They all believe that they are the one true church, and that everyone else is confused at best and damned at worst. Catholics are pedophiles, Episcopals are too wild, Methodists too wishy-washy. The Unitarians are considered atheist whack jobs. The word agnostic is neither known nor used, nor acceptable. You either is or you ain’t. And if you ain’t, then you don’t belong.

My husband and I actually tried to choose a church when we moved to our new town, both because we wanted to fit in, and have a social network, and practice religion, and because we planned to have a child whom we wanted to have educated in religion, because educated persons should interest themselves in religion. It is both a form of history, literature and art, and a good way to understand human behavior. When we first moved to my town, we had some discussion about what church we might choose. My husband was raised Southern Baptist, and was even baptised twice, once even on purpose, but he did not desire to attend Baptist church. His experience had been one of ignorance and intolerance. I wasn’t particularly into the idea of Catholic church, because of all the ritual, and also because as a human being and a physician who takes care of women (and other human beings), I believe the widespread oversight of pedophile priests who were shuffled from parish to parish is inconscionable, and the prohibition of contraception is just diabolically and willfully ignorant, given the overpopulation of the planet and the plight of the poor families and women with too many children to care for or feed. That rule was made in a day when many children died, many women died in childbirth, and many children were needed to run a self-sufficient village or farm. To maintain that law now is obscene and ridiculous. It is maintained for only one true purpose: to maintain power for the Catholic church by producing the maximum possible number of Catholics. I was also extremely pissed at the Vatican’s anti-endorsement of condoms for gay men – since they would not serve as contraception, surely the merciful thing for a church to do would be to recommend condom use to protect these men. But no. Basically their stance seems to be that gays are immoral and the more that get sick and die the better. Makes me enraged. So no Catholic church. (I will add as an aside that I think the new Pope is awesomesauce!)

We did actually attend a Baptist church for a bit, mainly because everyone that worked in my office seemed to go there. We never felt welcomed and it was a megachurch. Also, their literature suggested that those who did not accept their specific teaching and who were not “saved” by participating in immersion baptism would never be truly welcomed as members of the church.

We attended an Episcopal church as a compromise, and despite personally meeting with their priest to express interest, our attendance was greeted with complete indifference, all this despite the fact that it was a fairly small congregation. We tried, but…

We agreed that we would really like to attend Unitarian church, but the nearest one was in a bigger city about 30 minutes away. We agreed that we were unlikely to attend with any regularity, particularly due to the fact that my job requires me to remain within 20 minutes of the hospital when on call.

For some weird reason in a redneck southern town, we had Mormons. I actually looked into them, and met with a couple members of their congregation, but had real trouble with the suggestion that Christ migrated over to Utah, and rescued the settlers from a plague of grasshoppers with magic seagulls (although in retrospect, this claim is no more wild than any of those put forth by most other major religions).

Long story short, we gave up on church. My daughter actually attended a Catholic school for K-3 and K-4, mainly because it was one of the few full day nursery schools available in town, and I was pleased that she got some religious instruction, and they were very kind to her. But we don’t go to church. Since I was never raised to have church as a part of my life, I don’t feel the lack. You don’t feel emptiness where there is no hole.

My feelings on world religions are summed up by a brilliant parallel drawn by my father. He likens the relations of humans and their various religions to the parable of the blind men and the elephant. There were three blind men who encountered an elephant. One felt the ear and pronounced that this was a banana plant. One felt a leg and proclaimed the object to be a tree. One felt the trunk and was sure this was a snake. They began arguing and fell to blows about which of them was correct. Their perceptions were adequate based on the information available to them, but their conclusion that their view was the only correct answer was ignorant and narrow-sighted, and they failed to perceive the truth: that all their impressions formed just a part of the whole. In other words, all world religions are legitimate, each just describes a different part of the elephant, and humans, in their narrow and elitist manner, haughtily assume that their perceptions are the only true perceptions, and their piece of the puzzle is the only piece.

As a physician and a scientist, I also deeply resent the assertion of organized religion (looking at YOU, creationists) that science is ungodly and detracts from religious belief. There is absolutely no reason to believe that the Bible is at odds with our fossil record. Who says a day in God’s life is a day on earth? It almost certainly is not; believing that God’s day is an earth day is tantamount to believing that the sun must orbit around the earth. A day for God could be eons and eons for us. Also, why is evolution supposed to contradict the existence of a higher power? I would think any divine being worth their salt would create evolution, because, like a self-winding watch, a system was created that didn’t have to have a constant babysitter – evolution modifies the ecosystem without God having to hover – after all, He has other planets to watch, doesn’t He?

I must also say that I have more deeply felt a belief in God when studying science than at any other time. If these anti-science folks ever took a look in a microscope, they would understand the mindblowing, beautiful amazing things that are just out of our sight. Did these cells, with their powerhouses, and nuclei, and diverse functions really just happen at random? I don’t think so. I majored in biochemistry – all those lock and key enzymes and tiny machines at the molecular level – stunning. Mindblowing. Accidental? Hard to think it could be. Ever looked at an SEM of a bacteriophage? Seen how it works? Sometimes tears of awe come in to my eyes when I study these things. And for a gynecologist, there is the knowledge that there are millions of things that may come together wrong during the growth of an embryo, but yet, most babies are born perfect. Statistically, how could that be?

Bacteriophage:  this was no random accident.

I admit, my religious beliefs are more than a little unorthodox. I believe that at their foundations, all world religions have relevance, and if you look at their tenets, their laws are typically custom designed for the region of the world where they arose. Pork is verboten in religions that sprang up in hot regions where uncooked pork could kill you quickly. Washing rituals are different in regions in areas where water is more or less scarce. And most, when interpreted by nonzealots, are gentle and well-meaning at heart. Yes, even Islam.

I understand that people need organized religion to provide societal laws, norms, cohesion, and a belief that it isn’t over when it’s over – it hurts to think that the beauty that goes on in your mind and soul just comes to a stop and rots when the body stops. Where does it go? No one knows, but man clings to religion because they don’t want life to be for nothing. My daughter asks me, so many times, why we are born if we are just going to die. There are so many answers to that question, so many of them meaningful and hopeful, but she is only nine. So hard to explain. So hard to understand.

I am going to say something shocking. So shocking that I hope than none of my neighbors stumble onto this blog. I don’t think that I am a Christian. Did Christ exist? I really, really hope so, because he was an amazing man. Did he deserve to start a religion? If he lived the way they say he did, he really does. Was he a prophet? Maybe. Who am I to deny one of the parts of the elephant? It is not for me to decide. Did God create a son in the image of man and send him down to save us? I don’t really believe so – in the grand scheme of things, human beings are just not that important. Sorry. But I still can’t believe that a caring God would damn someone to hell for asking questions. The truth does not fear questions. Gandhi was an amazing man. Perhaps one day there will be a religion based on him. That would be cool. Martin Luther King Jr. was an amazing man. Why do white southerners hate him so much? Is it sheer bigotry, or maybe a fear that the man was, well, maybe Christlike? Flawed, but so strong and so full of belief. The Dalai Lama is amazing. Another great, great man. Mohammad too. Why would we resent and distrust the possibility that there could be more than one holy man? Why should the existence of one amazing person be threatened by the existence of another? We need all the amazing humans we can find.

Over years, I have given a lot of thought to my religious beliefs. They are a work in progress. I distrust organized religion, because more evil has been perpetrated in its name than in any other concept. Wars break out constantly over wealth, and power and greed, and the need for food and water, but the worst horrors have been perpetrated in the name of organized religion. How could you pervert a belief in a loving, caring deity into an attack on other humans so intolerant, so cruel and so vile?

I am a Pantheist. I believe that God is in and of everything. God is the existence of life itself. God is all energy, and all matter, and all ebb and flow and every molecule in the universe. I believe that the law of conservation of energy is all the answer to an afterlife we need. When our bodies die, our energy must continue to exist in some form, because it is conserved. I believe that we have the honor of having our atoms and molecules and energy flow back into the universe, because these things are all part and parcel of God. God does not have a gender. God was not, and should not, be created in man’s image. Physicists tell us that we all contain the atoms of ancient stars. Isn’t that enough?

*This post was originally written about a year ago.  I was too afraid to post it, for fear the neighbors would find my blog and ride me on a rail, tarred and feathered, out of town, or throw me in a lake and burn me as a witch when I failed to drown.  I now say fuck them.

<a href=”http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/leftovers-sandwich/”>Leftovers Sandwich</a>


Photo 101: Glass

It seems I have been playing with glass a lot recently. My family did quite a bit of international travel this year, and several opportunities presented themselves for some cool glass pictures.

This one, which might be my favorite, was taken in Paris, at Georges Pompidou Modern Art Museum. I took a self-portrait of my reflection in an art installment with multicolored layers of plexiglas.


The next few were taken in the Modern Art Museet in Stockholm, Sweden. The first is of my husband. Notice my daughter’s reflection in the upper left.


This one is a reflected image of our family in the window, with the Port of Stockholm seen outside.


The last is one of my favs: a self-portrait I took in the Swedish Children’s Museet, in a room of mirrors.


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