Insidious Adaptation

The chemistry of fat is that of a carbon chain, up to 24, with Hydrogen attached. Saturated fats mean that all the Carbon elements are attached to each other with a single bond and the element is, "saturated" with Hydrogen. This is different than, mono, or poly unsaturated fats  in which, in one location (mono) there is a carbon to carbon double bond and a lack of hydrogen, or multiple areas, (poly) where this same thing occurs. Click Here for a whole bunch of info. The difference in each of these chemical structures isn't the elements involved, but the amount and strength of bonds that are involved that makes the difference. Carbon, Hydrogen, Nitrogen, in their elemental forms are the basis for all organic material and are not poisonous. However, in the right concentration or combination, kill a human with ease. The carbon to carbon bond, when the valence electrons combine with the nearest carbon in a chain of them rather than a hydrogen, does a completely different t...

Mental health treatment typically focuses on behaviors. Therapy centers around what “behaviors” interfere with a person’s contentment. However, as humans tend to do, our behaviors change from week to week, therefore, what is worked on or processed in one session changes to the next. One week, there is a crisis, something that we cannot possibly make it through, and the next, we are relatively OK. "OK," for the moment that is. A therapist’s office, should be comfortable, neat enough, for too neat can be intimidating, and comfortable. There should be a desk somewhere, a cozy place to sit, maybe even something to look at. A picture can take the focus from an intense conversation, or as in my own sessions I stare at trees which are so beautiful this time of year. I am comfortable here, it is not home, because home can be stressful. The office is of a comfortable temperature and the smell either of nothing, or something lightly pleasant. Despite the conditions of an office bein...

Bzzzzz there is a fly in this room right now. I cannot stand the filth I feel at times when there is a fly in the room. As though he is taunting me with his unnecessary buzz. What is that sound that comes from a housefly anyways? Is it their wings? Do they purposely make that sound to make them even more detestable? They are gross because they start out as maggots, they tend to poop whenever they land, they tend to be around gross things, and like my dog, tend to track in the house what they were recently in. How can I possibly find peace with this? How in the world am I able to dig deep enough to, "just ignore" the fly and continue on with as much contentment as I had before I head the fly's buzzing past my head? I cannot recall how content I was before this. I now realize what I had because it is gone. A tiny fly, his unnecessary noise, and now an interpretation of filth, how would anyone ever, feel content again? Well, I guess, someone could have it worse than the...

The allotment given at the end of a two week’s work cannot possibly sum up that which has already passed. After all, the time is done, passed, spent like a few dollars on something to drink, no matter if I spill the thing. There is this lingering promise that exists from an employer and my bank account, for maybe they are both in on some kind of conspiracy. Maybe the bank is also in cahoots with the gas, electric, and insurance companies as well. What if there is no money being traded, the electronic, “transfers” are nothing more than to appease me, when between the large conglomerates they exchange my time. The insurance company for my vehicle alone gets most of my Monday, Tuesday goes towards the cable bill and the grocery store. Wednesday, well that one is dedicated to day care, along with a little bit of Thursday. Then the glorious Friday where the value of hours past 3PM should be double, well, that one I reserve for a personal purchase or two, some kind of incentive to keep me m...

As my hands hold the stack of papers, making sure not to squeeze too hard, not to put creases into the otherwise perfect stack of story, I cannot help but judge my work as, "lacking." Obviously, there is always more one can do when they are in the submission process, there is always another way to do something, another article to find, something else that can be done, for the act of submission is not admission of perfection, but actually that there is need for more.  Acknowledging the overpowering force at times is difficult to a prideful man.  Submission of another kind, the kind where we bow our heads, admit we are powerless to a person, place, thing, God himself, now this is the admittance that we are not in control, that we are imperfect to the utmost meaning of the word, that we recognize the need. Submission has this tendency to be depicted as such a discounting thing as though submitting makes you a lesser version, like an action going backwards. Instead of gr...

Looking from the outside, a father whose perspective is altered, for no longer is the world simply, “the world,” but, "a problem." In childhood, the development is selfish, egocentric, for the idea of altruism is not yet firm. The concept is within us all, after all, we are human, connected at our most basic principles, however the environment promotes that which we will not see in ourselves until old enough to resent it. I was raised to be productive, now I cannot stop. I was raised to love my brothers, when is all I learned was how to present and resent them. I was raised to believe in Christ, yet that man I thought I knew then, not even a tip of the iceberg.  Patience, understanding, empathy, all virtues that have an expiration date inside an agenda.  I now know Him better, long to be close to Him, be like Him, work for Him, for the worship and education about Him is fundamental, nothing new there. What shines through me the most is from what I learned in childhood,...

I am cancer free, well, at least the lump in my leg isn’t cancerous, or should I say, it wasn't felt to be cancerous. The best part of this all, was that for a few minutes today as I drove to the doctor’s office to pull down my pants for two nurse practitioners, yes, all before 9AM, I had a glimpse of what life could be like if I were to be stricken with a disease that kills its hosts.  Not to be dramatic, but that’s what I do, that’s what anxiety does, for worst case scenarios are the only way my mind knows what to do with information. It happens without effort, like slipping down a slide, for I typically recognize the thought, and move on. This time however, I decided to stay. I stayed on the thought process of what life would look like if I were to truly have cancer and the treatment options and the lifestyle that would then be my lifestyle. My first thought, was, my daughter. For I love her so, however, as much as I love her, and as much as I think I can contribute...