Day 1 of 30 day juice regimen...FIGHT

Breakfast

Dr. Oz Juice

·       Apples - 2 medium (3" dia)

·       Celery - 3 stalk, large (11"-12" long)

·       Cucumber - 1 cucumber (8-1/4")

·       Ginger - 1/2 thumb (1" dia)

·       Lemon (with rind) - 1/2 fruit (2-3/8" dia)

·       Lime (with rind) - 1 fruit (2" dia)

·       Parsley - 1 bunch

·       Spinach - 2 cup

Rise and Shine

1 cup pineapple

1 peach

1 mango (pitted)

1 banana

Martha Stewart's Green Juice Recipe

Here's Martha Stewart's recipe that she drinks each and every morning to jump start her day. Contains plenty of nutrients for continuous energy.

Ingredients

• Apple - 1/2 medium (3" dia)

• Celery - 1 stalk, large (11"-12" long)

• Cucumber - 1/2 cucumber (8-1/4")

• Ginger - 1 thumb (1" dia)

• Papaya (deseeded) - 0.25 fruit, large

• Parsley - 1 handful

• Pear - 1/2 medium

• Spinach - 1 cup

Lunch

Original V-8 Recipe

Ingredients

• Carrots - 2 large (7-1/4" to 8-/1/2" long)

• Celery - 3 stalk, large (11"-12" long)

• Cucumber - 1/2 cucumber (8-1/4")

• Parsley - 2 handful

• Pepper (sweet green) - 1/2 medium (approx 2-3/4" long, 2-1/2" dia)

• Spinach - 1 cup

• Tomatoes - 3 medium whole (2-3/5" dia)

Dinner

V-28 Juice

Ingredients

• Beet Roots - 3 beet (2" dia)

• Carrots - 2 medium

• Celery - 2 stalk, large (11"-12" long)

• Parsley - 4 handful

• Pepper (jalapeno) (seeds/ribs removed) - 1 pepper

• Radishes - 12 medium (3/4" to 1" dia)

• Tomatoes - 4 plum tomato

Sunset Blend

Ingredients

• Apples (golden delicious) - 2 medium (3" dia)

• Beet Roots - 2 beet (2" dia)

• Carrot - 1 large (7-1/4" to 8-/1/2" long)

• Orange (optional) - 1 fruit (2-5/8" dia)

• Pepper (sweet red) - 1 medium (approx 2-3/4" long, 2-1/2 dia.)

• Sweet Potato - 1 sweetpotato, 5" long

Why I write

I asked myself that question. "Why write? What topic, stumbling aimlessly in my mind, is so important that it must see the light of day? If the topic is even remotely interesting, am I even qualified to tell it in such a way that does it any sort of creative justice?" Obviously, there are no simple answer to these questions. What I do know is that I want to do it. The journey of 1,000 miles and all...There are a host of topics that could be combined up there. Black vampire who writes health care policy? Sure. I guess. Introverted and failed writer who reads other peoples stories for inspiration? Been done before. One of my favorite T.V. series from the 1990's is "Red Shoe Diaries." This isn't so much because it introduced me to the nude female form in the comfort of my own home at such a tender young age, but more so because I liked David Duchovny's character. He's puts an ad out in one of the local newspapers asking women to send him erotic stories from their own lives. Each episode is each letter. Upon the conclusion of each episode, he quips, to his trusty canine companion, some unspoken, yet clearly obvious, observation about the letter before finishing his walk. Although the premise for the show can be seen as unrealistic, i found myself drawn to his character. His fiancee committed suicide, so he fills the void left by his wife's death with stories from other women, with the idea being that he could figure out what he did wrong, presumably so he can recognize warning signs in the future.

What does any of this have to do with writing? I suppose the idea of a loner who takes an outside view of all that's going on around him, praying that he goes unnoticed is kind of appealing. There's something innately appealing to me about detaching myself from reality and posing questions; on the world, the people in it, the sick and stupid shit they do, the absolutely wonderful things they do and everything in between, to readers. Here's what's sick about this whole scenario. Despite the fact that I view myself as more of a loner than is actually true, I want to be extensively read in literary circles world-wide. To add another dimension to this whole world within my head, I want my work to be seen as this dirty little literary secret too. I want to be known as a writer's writer who actually appeals to the masses. It would be like if MeShell Ndegeocello were to actually be extremely popular and well played rather than the, relatively, unnoticed musical genius that she is. These delusions of future literary grandeur are keeping me up late and preventing me from getting the rest needed to do my job tomorrow, not to mention getting a policy brief completed before tomorrow evening for my Health Disparities course. Or maybe what's keeping me up late at night is figuring out what kind of dog I want to walk as my character's reads letters from bored and lonely women while trying to figure out where he went wrong. If you've actually taken the time to read this through, then i'll let you be the judge.

One Day

It's happened. Something that, in my mind, was so unlikely to have happened that it actually (in some hipster-esque ironic fashion) makes sense that it did. I found myself (and continue to) moved by the recent release of the film "One Day". Ask Meg and she'll tell you that i'm not quite the Rom-Com kind of dude.

For those of you who are not in the know (doubtful), "One Day" is the story of Emma and Dexter. They meet for the first time upon graduation from U Edinburgh on July 15th 1988. Although, Em admits that she and Dex have met before, in rather unflattering instances; Dex, in his drunken stupor (which seems to be a rather disturbing pattern throughout the novel), has no recollection of their previous run ins. What follows next is Dex (Cassanova that he is) trying to hook up with an obviously shy, yet infatuated, Em. Reluctant at first to his advances, she finally acquiesces. Rather joltingly, Dex changes his mind and tries to skee-daddle ((we catch a glimpse of him in the unceremonious act of putting on his trousers while Em's in the lou (sorry brits, i don't know how to spell that one) mustering up the courage needed to successfully bed the beguiling male specimen in her bed.)) She comes out looking, admittedly, geeky, timid, resolute and seductive, but then notices his change of mind and decides quite quickly that it was a mistake to think that this would actually happen in the first place. To cut a long story short, the spend the night with one another, but don't move past some rather sweet spooning to the waxing moonlight.

***Spoiler Alert***

If you do not wish to know what happens next because you'd rather see/read for yourself, by all means don't read the next few lines. I'll italicize them so that way it's distinct what's the spoiler and what isn't. A firm line in the sand will demarcate when the spoiler has ended.

So the movie ends with a flashback of them waking up after they decide to lay down with one another back in 1988, exchanging a few tender/awkward sentences and deciding to take a walk. They playfully trudge up a hill situated next to the school where, presumably, they can take in the Edinburgh sky-line. Upon reaching the summit, they converse with one another on the history of the day in question. Realizing that he wants her just as badly as he did last night, whilst soundly drunk, Dex makes another pass at her. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth (i guess i can see why some critics would have an issue with that) she decides to throw caution (and presumably her knickers) to the wind. In fact, she's the one leading the charge down the hill and back into town. The race is against the clock because he wants to do the deed before his parents return. Once they enter town, a pre-dawn light bathes the city square in a blue, yet unpredictably auspicious, light. They embrace each other in quite the passionate kiss (scene serves as the cover for the book and movie posters.) The music that plays throughout this scene is light-hearted and happy, much like our love birds. Unfortunately, their tryst is cut short by his poorly timed, cock blocking parents. Que lastima. After awkwardly, yet glowingly, meeting his parents, Em decides to exit stage right while he tries to reassure his smirking mother (she's well played here) and obviously embarrassed father that Em is his friend and nothing more. The scene cuts to Em walking down the street and Dex running up to her to try and arrange future meets with her. After bantering with each other, and kissing one another, in that perfectly nerdy and awkward way, she notes with confidence that they will see each other again. We see them trade contact info, cutesy good byes and, while turning their backs on one another, steal glimpses at one another. Fade to black. Roll credits.


***Spoiler done***

The rest of the story revolves around their lives and this particular day, during which we see their respective trials, tribulations, loves and losses. The glue in their lives is their unofficial pact that this day is what keeps them stable for the remaining 364. The movie fashions itself in a way that shows the days without one another and the one day that they actually do have each other to themselves.

(a more romantic approach to this whole premise would be to secretly steal their calendars, cross out every other month & date and write July 15th over and over again.)

So why am I even taking the time to write on this topic in the first place? Truth be told, I can't give you a straight answer. Even before this movie came out, I saw the previews and (at the risk of sounding utterly melodramatic) felt something stir. I suppose my trepidation at seeing this movie on the screen came from a few places.

1.) Meg read the book at the suggestion of her friend, Traci. Meg and I have, largely, incongruent tastes in books and movies.

2.) Major motion features adapted from novels are, for me, like new releases of Dan Brown novels in Barnes & Nobles. More often than not, lots of shimmer, but the depth and emotionally complexity of a thimble of water...for Feival.

3.) ZERO black folk. Pause. That's not true. Some rappers meet Dex on one of his shows and he, painfully, fumbles the interview in the red zone. In this one, we're none existent, but when we are, we're non-smiling, ultra cool caricatures of what we're supposed to be like. Shaka Zulus, but wearing what one would see at a Das FX concert. But there aren't a lot of us who would have existed in Dex and Em's world to begin with so it's logical to see no brown folk.

Regardless, I found myself in the embarrassing position of being that guy who blubbers ceaselessly for folks that, seemingly, share no connection to him (outside of the obvious). I've never chased anyone for twenty years off and on, nor have I had a flirtatious relationship with any of my friends that were tolerated to the level they are in the book/movie. In fact, back in college/post college when I did have flirtatious interactions with female friends that resulted in sex, I usually lost the friendship, much to my extreme consternation and disappointment.

Yet there I was, during key parts of the film, blubbering my eyes out with the 4 teenage girls seated several rows behind us. I think Charles would take a stripe from me on that one...ask him about if you want to get the joke...don't you just hate inside jokes that really aren't that funny to begin with and are now just annoying because they don't really advance they story along? But I digress...monumentally...

Ultimately, I can't put my finger, specifically, on what about this particular movie that broke me down in such an unexpected fashion. I mean, part of me knew that I was going to see this movie and feel something, given how much I felt in the build-up. I just wasn't expecting such a movie to be so good at the job. To say the least, this film has moments that will stick with me for a while.

I tried to think of the emotions the film brought out. Jealously? Partly because i'm not in Europe anymore? It could be that. But, perhaps more apropos, I've definitely been on the losing end of unrequited love so that's not a feeling that i'd like to re-visit. Ever.

1.Suddenly realizing that your clothes have, for reasons unbeknownst to you, have left your body at the precise moment you realize you farted at a staff meeting of over 100 other co-workers. While giving a presentation. On the declining size of the black male member.

2. Walking across the graduation stage, slipping into the arms of the president of the college, stumbling over him, standing up and realizing that you're pitching a tent that's poking out of your gown. In front of everyone.

These things would suck tremendously. Truly moments that no one could, conceivably, find an easy recovery from. Nothing sucks...is more embarrassing... than loving someone who's so obviously in love with someone else or just simply, doesn't love you back. This movie brought some of that back in me.

What was truly heartbreaking is how tragic the story is. Can anyone truly be happy? Is that the point? Is there some expiration date on contentment in life? Is utter happiness such a pure and combustible substance that it immolates itself quickly and without any real idea of knowing how long till the fuel gives out? Must the situation resolve itself by separating the couple in some overly dramatic and equally tragic way?

It's really fucked up to see people who are obviously madly in love with one another go time without being with one another. But then again, it begs the question of what happens after happily ever after? How does Charming feel when Cinderella go from a size 0 to a size 10? How does Aurora feel when Charming lose the gait that made her shiver all those years ago? Is that the point? In order to preserve the beauty of the love two people who are madly in love with one another, must they keep each other at extreme arms length so that the love shared doesn't succumb to reality? And woe to them should they throw caution to the wind and actually acknowledge their burning passion for one another by making each other honest. Is it an author/filmmaker's intention to keep love clean so that it can't be sullied by the possibility that despite love at first sight, as we age, we tend to go blind, need glasses and ultimately run the risk of losing our sight altogether?

The cynic in me sees this as a cautionary tale. The romantic (which I thought actually didn't really exist) is so moved that even after the films conclusion, he still weeps tears of joy and goes home to watch the trailer, all the while counting down the days till it's released on DVD.

This morning

Meg and I were driving to work this morning to work while listening to NPR. The sky is overcast. Light drizzle covers the windshield in just enough moisture to warrant the occasional wiper blade sweep. We’re driving in two lane traffic on a road that follows the river, which is to our left. With spring peeking its head around the corner, I can see leaves on trees trying to make their case for life. A warm voice croons over the radio about a recent law being passed in Iowa that will make it a criminal offense for undercover environmental activists to release secretly taken pictures and videos of farm abuses, particularly poultry, swine and cattle. As the story concludes, Meg turns to me and says that she’s bothered by that last report. I ask her why. Unexpectedly, she tells me that the radio announcer’s voice is way too sexy to be giving news like this. I chuckle lightly to myself and ask her what she means. She repeats that, in her opinion, the voice discussing the living conditions of poultry on mass production farms is way too sexy. In her mind, I guess, when you’re giving bad news, you shouldn’t have a voice that sultry. I feel that it’s just NPR’s attempt to soften the blow. Meg, on the other hand, feels otherwise. Using a husky & breathy voice, while mocking NPR’s Kathleen Masterson, she quips “yeah, these chickens are being abused, but I’ll still suck your dick.” I’m now laughing uncontrollably at her interpretation of Morning Report. Meg continues by saying that it’s like Kathleen’s telling you something this awful news, but is taking her clothes off simultaneously.
We’re both cracking up. She turns to me how much she hates how immature I am. She also reminds me of how often I crack up at previews for this new show Comedy Central called “Workaholics” and how much she hates it. In the scene, one of three guys is sitting in his office in a grizzly bear jacket fit with pseudo-bear paws and a hood with bear ears on top. He’s surrounded by his friends. Then, while pumping his “paws” out back and forth, like a very wack rapper from the 80’s, says “bitch, betta have my honey”. I’m ashamed by how funny I find this, yet I also find myself on the floor, cracking up for at least 2 minutes. Meg, clearly annoyed with my laughing, rolls her eyes and walks out of the room.

I love the fact that she gave me this gem of a one liner to blog. I told her that I would blog about it later this morning after I got to work. Thanks Meg.

After a 10 month hiatus, I decided that I should update my blog rather than do work that desperately needs to be done. Consider yourselves lucky that finding affordable housing for low income folks is currently taking the back burner to updating you on my life.

I'm going to write a novel.

What this book will be called is anyone's guess.

Maybe that's a good name of vampire novel set in a fictional medieval continent?

Shame may prevent me from actually using my given name as the author. I'm currently thinking of a solid nom de plume.

Part of me wants it to be funny. Another part of me wants it to draw you in. There is a disturbingly large part of me that wants to show you how much of a pervert I really am. Then again, the side of me that wants to show readers how much of a pervert and all around disagreeable person I am is warring with the side of me that desires approval from all around him. All of me wants it not to suck.

It takes years to write books. The last thing that you would think someone with as severe ADHD as me would do is be disciplined enough to write a... SQUIRREL...novel.

Additionally, I feel that I have not read nearly enough literature to justify writing something of value.

There is large portion in me that fears seeing what is in my head on paper. Worse yet, knowing that what's on paper is actually being read, critiqued, laughed at, disgusted by and enjoyed by others. The ideas floating around in there should probably remain there. Or plastered to my therapists figurative walls. Either or. It seems that in my past, revealing how I feel has not always been met with the best of results. In fact, it's made things worse. This makes me feel worse. Aren't we all told that we should be more open about how feel?

No.

This is a very bad idea.

The only people that should hear how you honestly feel about anything should have letters after their name and should be qualified to hear the conversation. Or maybe that's just me.

Wow. Going back and reading what I just wrote makes me seem much more upset, jaded and self deprecating than I actually am.

I really just want to write a book and I'm having some trouble getting started.

And now...

...a moment to reflect on the purpose of this blog.

I find it hard for me to write about my experiences to people and give them an honest look at what roams aimlessly through my head. In all honesty, I'm not really someone who has led a life of any distinction, valor, pride or any other fill in the blank honorific. In my mind, I am not a particularly distinguished individual. I haven't composed any songs, I haven't really made a tangible difference in the lives of other, or at least not enough to justify a blog devoted to detailing my awesome-ness. So this actually brings me to the reason why i'm writing tonight.

What is the purpose of this blog?

Am i doing it to give readers a chance to read about the wanderings of someone else's life? And if so, do I lead a life that interesting enough to read about?

Or

Am I writing simply to air out thoughts of mine that I feel wander around my head but don't make to the light of day? Some of them are crazy. Others are wrong. Some would probably even get me arrested. It could be for the best that they stay in my head (or at least plastered to my therapists' metaphorical white walls).

I guess that's the risk that you take when you write a blog. You write with the idea/confidence that your life is interesting enough for people to read through. In your mind, you think to yourself that people are waiting out there in the "blogosphere" hoping for a chance to peer into your life.

This leads me to the original question. Why am I writing a blog in the first place? In all honesty, as much as I love the fact that maybe someday one of my friends from high school, college or parts unknown will stumble across it and find it moving, disturbing, humorous some combination of those three or none of the above. Additionally, I run the risk of them getting nothing from it other than the blog that some guy wrote who was/is, at one point or another, a part of their life.

For now, this blog is entirely selfish. I want to become a writer someday and, with the advice of a friend who comes from writing royalty (if such a concept existed), suggested that a blog would be a good way for me to get my foot in the door.

In my post from over a year ago, I mentioned that I wanted to write erotica and other assorted topics. Since reading the blogs of other people, I've wanted to dabble into reviewing movies (G --> XXX rated) but then again, there goes that nagging self doubt that seeps into my mind, takes up residence and becomes a tenant that is oh-so-reluctant to evict.

I think another reason for writing this blog is that I could create different characters who represent aspects of my personality that, if not combined with other aspects of my personality, could represent me as : 1.) Socio-path 2.) Pervert 3.) Introvert 4.) Extrovert 5.) Misogynist 6.) Weakling 7.) Door-mat 8.) Dom, or way too many other concepts to list. Bad? Probably. TMI? Most definitely. Uncomfortable? Sure why not? Perhaps one of my greater wants is for readers of this blog to see me as an individual with many dimensions and as capable of creating good works as much as being sinful.

I guess that my life has, for lack of a better phrase, been defined by a desire to be someone who always created and spread good works wherever he went. A most noble task if ever there was one. Many of the most revered individuals in our time who did such good things and created such good works were revered for their paths. But were they understood?

Look at someone like MLK. He's known world wide for his position of non-violence to bring about social change. He is revered for what he did for people coming from disadvantaged groups. But what was it about his life, his experiences and his general demeanor that put him on that path (one that would lead him to an untimely demise)? Did we understand his wants and needs? Were they deeper than the taglines or anything of the sort? Didn't he commit adultery? If so, isn't this an aspect of his personality that we need to roll into all of the goodness that he spread? I guess it depends on whether or not knowing someone like this would change how you viewed the person and the works that he/she may have created. Would you think less of Dr. King's message if it came from him knowing that he cheated on his wife? Would you be more skeptical of Christianity if you knew that Christ masturbated?

I guess my point is that if you had a chance to learn more about a person than you thought existed, would that change how you viewed that person? The person had all of these personality traits before you met him/her yet before you knew that they did "X" or "Y", you held them in lofty regards and, perhaps unfairly, held the person to a standard that they may have never wished upon themselves. Do they become something else? Do they stay the same?

This is my fear in writing a blog. I may reveal things that change the way a person views me. But then again, if they held me in high regards prior to knowing that thing about me, would this change drastically?

Perhaps my problem is that I think that the things that I've done in my life are so horrible when they may be more common than I think. Or perhaps I think that things that i've done are so interesting that they justify a blog when they are actually quite common and, more importantly, banal.

In the end, I think that I think too much and gauge my reactions by the way that I think that people will react rather than just having a reaction, posting it and letting the interwebs decide my fate. Additionally, i'm too impatient and want an automatic reaction to my thoughts rather than just writing and letting people come across the damn thing (and react to it) when they're good and ready. Patience is, unfortunately, a virtue I lack. Perhaps this blog will help me learn its' mystical ways (ideally amongst other things).

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.




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/)