Monday, December 21, 2009

Got my third eye poked...literally

Greetings and Happy Holidays!


Ideally, this post finds you well and in good spirits.

My dear readers, please forgive me for depriving you. I've not posted anything in a few days and I know that many of your have been, needless to say, rudder-less without updates into my oh-so-captivating life. Well my stray pets, consider yourselves rescued.

You're welcome.

So what was the first question that came to mind when you read the title of this post? I'm going to take a quick poll of what I believe might have coursed through your lovely minds.

1.) 60% of you thought I got high.

-Not too far off the mark actually, but no. Toking the doob is not something that is post worthy (clearly not like most other facets of my oh so interesting life.)


2.) 40% of you thought I partook the services of trained Yogi, certified in elevating the minds of unsuspecting youth.

-IF ONLY!!! But alas, not the answer we're looking for.


Are you ready for it? Have I established enough suspense such that you're practically begging me to reveal the answer (I love it when you've gotten to this point)?

3.) Acupuncture.

Yes, Acupuncture.


Apparently, West Philadelphia has a amazing acupuncture center located, very conveniently, only a few short blocks from my home. Better yet, this place was floating just above my head...literally...it sits on top of my favorite brewery/restaurant.

What may have prompted me to venture outside of the comfort zone of conventional western medicine and throw my hat in with older, more holistic healing tools from parts unknown using methods understood even less?

Elementary, my dear Watson. I needed material to write for my blog and I figured that getting turned into my grandmother's pincushion was the best way to get it in an otherwise boring and, increasingly, sedentary life.

So back to it.

I searched through Philadelphia Community Acupuncture's website (http://www.phillyacupuncture.com/) and scheduled an appointment with the provider. Allow me to elaborate on some of the things that crossed my mind whilst I waited for 0 hour.

-Will it hurt?

-What should I wear?

-How long will it last?

Yes ladies and gentlemen, going to my first acupuncture session was the functional equivalent of being a 16 year old girl on prom night. Who knew that acupuncture treatment would serve as a euphemism for losing my purity?

Shame on you Philadelphia Community Acupuncture for preying on the curiosity of such a young, naive and un-spoiled soul. Shame.

They ask that noobs get to the center roughly 1/2 an hour prior to receiving treatment. In typical Fritz fashion, I arrive about 5 minutes before hand. Shrug.

I take a look at the building, while ignoring my grumbling stomach that has just kicked into overdrive upon arriving at the place where I would normally receive tasty food, and ascended the steel stair case one curious step at a time. This was outside of the building itself. At the apex of the staircase, I was faced with another set of stairs. How coincidental that a place such as this, designed to heal bodies and elevate minds, is situated at one of the highest parts of west philly. I suppose, in their minds, going through the treatment could bring a person a step closer to God and enlightenment. The fact that they needed to place the center well above anything else shows that, just in case the treatment didn't take, at least you'll be physically, in the clouds. Clever on their parts if I do say so.

This new staircase that faced me contrasted quite sharply with the one that I just mounted. If the first one could be described as cold and innundeted with light, this second was eerily warm and decidedly dark. Taking a large gulp of courage, I climbed these second set of stairs. I akin the experience to Mario climbing the stairs to fight Bowser. The prize? Rather than a vapid, airhead of princess who lacks any sort of skill in distraction and escape, my prize would be a lower back that doesn't wake me up from a dead sleep.

To add to the foreboding atmosphere, the waiting room was PINDROP silent. So quiet that when I paid for the services, the key pad made a noise that crashed drunkenly throughout the entire facility, spilling it's noisy beer over unsuspecting patients and causing general hoopla in a place generally devoid of all sounds. Yes folks, it was THAT quiet.

The receptionist spoke to me in whispers. The staff spoke in whispers. The other patients spoke in whispers. It was that Charmin commercial come to life.


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The receptionist gave me a stack of papers and told me that I needed to fill them out before I actually saw the acupuncturist. Given the number of forms I had to complete, it made sense why they asked you to show up half an hour before they put you under the needle (s).

Forms completed, I wandered back up to the desk and whispered my thanks. I was informed that I would be seen soon. Although the wait to see the acupuncturist was long, it gave me a time to take in my surroundings. Hardwood floors covered the entire surface. I didn't really pay attention to the rugs underneath me. I just noticed there presence. Various sizes of potted plants flanked different parts of the reception area. It provided a verdant balance to the ominousness of the dimmed lighting and nap-time atmosphere. It didn't help that the room was just too damn comfortably warm and the couch that I sat on reached up and embraced me with it's plush, over-sized arms. Fighting to keep Hamburger Hill must have been easier than it was for me to stay awake. The whole place was constructed out of red brick. I thought this was a pretty nice touch. In fact, this place used to be a firehouse. How ironic is that? A place that at one time was probably defined by it's noise is now deafeningly quiet. I suppose the building was atoning for it's noisy past. Or, it had a wild time when it was younger and, like all retired entities, felt as if it deserved peace and quiet. No better way to do that than install an acupuncture practice.

On to the experience itself.

I was met with my acupuncturist (Rebecca) who greeted me warmly and, with that signature whisper, invited me back to a room that closed off from the rest of the surface. When she spoke to me in a normal tone, I was a bit relieved. I felt as if the whole time I was holding my breath by being so quiet. She asked me all of the standard questions (family medical history, exercise habits, why i'm there etc.) and I gave her my answers. After we concluded our pas-de-deux of question/answer, she asked me if I had any additional questions. A bit sheepishly, I asked her if it would hurt. She gave me a warm smile, a brief, understanding and motherly laugh and told me that it doesn't really hurt. She added that it felt more like a mosquito bite than anything else. Great. It get to live my summers all over again. And people sign up for this???

She led me out of the office and onto the actual acupuncture surface. Before I go on, let me tell you what I was witnessing.

The office is divided into 2 sections. Reception area and acupuncture surface. They are separated by a wall that doesn't seem that secure, but given the circumstances, get's the job done. On the side of the wall facing the folks taking advantage of the treatment, we see various medical posters illustrating the multitude of points on the body that can be poked and proded to produce health benefits. The amount of points on the body would put your friend that has the most freckles to shame. It's amazing the amount of time these ancient Chinese philosophers took to find all of the points on the body that can be punctured and chart what they do for the body once they've been correctly poked. The room itself is a motley crew of chairs, recliners and what has to be a swedish ergonomic massage chair. There was a flat table off on the left side of the office. In my mind, I assume that this is for those who feel that after acupuncture, they still have a great amount of stress and need something else to experience relief. Well my friends, if this place was located between Broad St. and 9th St. above Market and below Spring Garden, you might be able to find the relief that would finally push you over the edge (insert sketchy wink). But alas, given the staff and the Zen nature of the environs, I doubt that the most action this flat table saw was someone sitting on it and discussing pottery patterns from Eastern Europe. Sigh. A boy can dream right?

Back to the session itself...

So I ended up choosing the swedish chair. She asked me to roll up my sleeves and pant legs. I did her one better. I stripped down from my pants and hoodie. Calm down, I had basketball shorts on and a t-shirt. Come one i'm not THAT forward. Well, that's not entirely true, but for this afternoon I behaved myself. My acupuncturist laid the seat back, placed a blanket underneath my feet, gave me one to cover myself up in and provided me with a pillow. After being tucked in, I was asked if I was comfortable. A bug couldn't be more snug. With my bare arms and legs exposed, she proceeded to work her magic. Given the symptoms I told her that I was having issues with, she started going to work on my ankles, different parts of my shins then worked her way up to my hands and forearms. Then she went to work on my ears. They did prick like a mosquito, but the initial pain quickly went away and was replaced with a warm feeling that spread to the area close to the needle. After she finished with my ear, I thought that I couldn't look more ridiculous and feel any more poked. Then she put the needle...IN...MY...FOREHEAD...

That's right.

Forehead.

I thought that the only way to have my third eye poked was through smoking copious amounts of ganja. Imagine how red my face was when she put that needle square in the middle of my forehead.

Then she left me in this position.

The philosophy of this place is that they tend to a lot of people by poking them, leaving them in the chairs and letting them stew until they felt they were done. I didn't really know what else to do so I did what 99% of the other people did while there. Closed my eyes and (almost) feel asleep.

One of the things that this place provides (that i absolutely love) is earplugs. At first, I didn't understand. Then I heard the snoring. Talk about clutch. Good call.

Now, you know how in native american culture, the men have these heated huts where they sit around and pour water on hot stones to produce steam? These "sweat tents" are supposed to clear the body of toxins, but also have the fun side affect of producing visions (purportedly). With this needle in my head and my vision shifting, I swear that I saw a clear film wash over my eyes. At first I thought that it was fatigue, but after having sit up and adjusted myself, I found that the blurry state wouldn't go away. At this point, I thought to myself "this is kind of like being stoned minus the coughing and paranoia." Much to my chagrin, no entities from the spirit world spoke to me. No, Two Feathers from the Sioux Nation did not offer me advice on how to get rid of my back pain or cure my detestable habit of procrastination. But, you gotta admit that it would have been pretty cool if he did.

Ultimately, the experience was, for lack of a better word, enlightening. I explored a path of medical treatment often shunned by western medicine or seen as (at best) a band aid. Something seen as a compliment rather than a substitute for medicine. Although, I'm inclined to agree with this philosophy, the idealist in me cannot help but wonder if adhered to strictly, would a person, minus chronic health conditions that require acute medical treatment, not need to rely on western medicine at all and, instead, use solely medical treatments from years past?

Food for thought to be sure. But since I had a needle in my head, the trauma has perhaps lessened my appetite.


P.S. In all seriousness, this acupuncture place is really quite nice and if you're at all curious about trying out acupuncture, I think you should do it. If you live in the Philly area, please check out Philadelphia Community Acupuncture. The staff are very well trained, the facility is quite clean and comfortable and best of all, the payment is based on how much you make. They're great about working with people from various walks of life and can provide you with a new perspective on health care. Check them out, if anything, to get my Mario/Koopa reference! :)

(http://www.phillyacupuncture.com/)

Friday, December 18, 2009

In the army now

First and foremost, I want to thank, profusely, my co-worker for calling to my attention something that I did not know. As a Sade fan, I should have known that this particular event would occur weeks in advance. Apparently, I was so busy listening to something else rather than doing what any good Sade fan does and keep my ears to the ground. Regardless, I find myself thrilled beyond all reason.

She's back...

Scratch that. She did not come back. She stormed back onto the stage and in her brief, but powerful, wake she pushed aside any musician in her genre who, in her absence, felt the need to call him/herself an artist. Artist resurgences such as these are, for me, the reason to hold onto (barely, I find more so lately much to my chagrin) faith in the music industry.

Soldier of Love is as much a nod to her Stronger than Pride days as it is an answer to the melancholy found on Somebody Already Broke My Heart. Although, I may be a bit premature in reviewing this song and making comparisons to works gone by, I cannot help but feel that this new track is her grabbing us by the ears (the same ones that should have been to the proverbial ground) and telling us that love, regardless of where we find it or how it manifests itself in our respective lives, is worth fighting for.

Now I can see critics lambasting this as not really a creative departure from what she's put out in the past, but why reinvent the wheel? We know what she does well and we've seen her take steps outside of what is her comfort zone. Admitedly few steps, but steps none the less. Additionally, doesn't the fact that she sings so consitently about the trials and tribulations of love pay homage to the fact that loving someone is, more often than not, a journey of ups and downs rather than a destination to which we arrive at and stay decidedly? Where it might seem that she's beating a dead horse, it's actually acknowledging the fact that we, as humans, are cyclical in nature. We love, we come across something that threatens this love, we find pros and cons for continuing to love someone, yet in the end we realize that we were bound to love this person and had very little choice in the matter to begin with. I suppose the parallel that she draws with "Soldier of Love" to that of a warrior, of sorts, for love is an apt choice. Anyone who's been in love knows that there are struggles, trials and tribulations that, if conquered, make you the stronger for having gone through them and succeeded. Honestly, I can't help but laugh to myself at the ridiculous images going through my mind right now. I'm picturing those Marines and Army recruiting commercials playing, yet this track is playing in the background. What an image!

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Sade's a soldier of love, dammit and she wants you too!!!

Perhaps I'm reading into her work too much rather than doing what most rational people do and just enjoy the music.

Anyways, if you find yourself listening to this song and marching along to it's beat, then you too may be a recruit in Sade's army. A soldier of love indeed.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Deep Post # 2

Greetings,

I figured that rather than being one dimensional and commenting solely on my rather poorly executed (but admittedly funny in hindsight) sexual experiences, I should expound on subjects du jour like music, art, other books, other people's blog (meta-blogs if you will) and basically anything else that peaks my interest. Gasp!! Single scoped blogs be damned! Let us raise our glasses... "to the potential for friends and random strangers to waste time by reading my blog when they could be doing something else much less interesting, but probably more productive."


*clink, clink,clink*

Now that we have this established, Let me discuss something that's been on my mind.

Why has Me'Shell Ndegeocello been routinely denied the accolades that she so clearly deserves? Now, i'm not talking about the respect that members deep within the music community give her, nor her, admittedly, underground following of devotees. I'm referring to her being repeatedly nominated for grammy's, yet never walking home with the prize. Is the measure of an artist determined by what he/she wins or what he/she does not win? I smell a catch 22 in the works. If she doesn't win a grammy, it shows how the little she may be actually appreciated by fans, music execs and artists alike, however if she actually does win a grammy, it compromises the unique position that she has in the music industry of being an overly talented, undeniably respected artiste who doesn't need the Grammy folks up there on Mt. Olympus to validate her opus with a small, gilded paperweight.

To win or not to win...


I feel that if she did win, it would be for an album that clearly did not underscore how brilliant she is. For those of you in the know, forgive me for making the following references and for those of you who don't know, please allow me to explain (briefly).

Say that she won a Grammy for her next album or even for her latest one...



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Now, this album is probably good and all, but after having listened to a few songs from this one, I was a little underwhelmed. Don't get me wrong. Some people will see this as one of her best albums. A nod to her versatility as an artist given the fact that it has a "punk-ish" feel despite her funk roots. I, however, feel that albums such as this...

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...clearly deserve the Grammy nod.


Yet we all know how the industry works when it comes to incorrectly rewarding artists for their works

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No Oscar???

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Clearly more Oscar worthy...:-/


Or...

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Noteworthy performance. Unfortunately, she was tapped for this...

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Let me be clear. The works that these artists won the award for were creative works and had the history of each actor/actress not preceded them (A list-ish actors before the nomination) it would have been a little less harsh to digest. Be that as it may, they received the nods for the works they did in these years and not for the work before hand which, at least in my opinion, had greater dramatic value without implicity validating negative stereotypes of black people (that in and of itself is a different conversation that i'll spare you of for now. Tune into later posts for more...)

Basically said, my fear is that Me'Shell will succumb to a similar fate. My fear is that if and/or when she is recognized for her talent, she will not be defined by a sub-par piece of work, but rather that this is how she will be remembered. If there is any hope that i can depend on, it's that Me'Shell cannot be easily classified as an artist. Hopefully, the very versatility that may help her win a grammy may also help her avoid being defined by the album that brought her to that point.

One can only hope...

And now i've gone and upset myself. Let me give you an exquisite Me'Shell song I came across recently. Enjoy and see you next time.