On Ally Cat Persistence (Blog #918)

It’s 11:30 at night, and I’m going to try to keep this brief. Because it’s been a long day. Because I’ve still got stuff to do. Because I don’t feel well. All week I’ve been fighting a sinus infection or something gross. And whereas it’s better than it was two days ago, I’m still coughing, hacking, and sneezing.

I’m not impressed.

This afternoon I worked for several hours cleaning out a friend’s rent house and, after hauling two loads of trash to the dump(ster), made a significant dent in things. After I quit for the day, I stopped by an Asian food mart to look for more kimchi, the fermented cabbage that (sometimes) contains the probiotic that helps my sinuses. I say more kimchi because I’ve already purchased three different jars this week. (One of them was five pounds.) Seriously, the stuff is taking over our refrigerator. Still, since what I have clearly isn’t doing the trick, I continue to be persistent in the hunt.

Persistence is really what I want to talk about tonight. When I got out of my car at the Asian food mart, I saw a real scrappy looking tabby cat. You know the kind, gaunt. It was hiding in between a couple cars, snacking on a bit of food that was stuck to the concrete. God knows what it was. Perhaps something that fell out of a customer’s shopping bag or something he fished out of the nearby trash. Anyway, he didn’t run away when I walked by, but he did look at me suspiciously. Like, Don’t come any closer.

Y’all, I’m not an animal lover (I’m an animal liker), but I can’t tell you how much I’ve thought about this fella this evening. I mean, no wonder he was suspicious. He’s obviously had a rough life. How many of us are wary of letting others too close because–I don’t know–we’ve been hurt or are simply used to doing everything for ourselves?

But back to persistence. That’s what really struck me about this ally cat. Now, I clearly didn’t sit down and get his life story, but if he’s even one year old–and he looked older–it’s evident he’s a pretty resourceful feline to take what someone else would throw away and make a meal out of it. Surely we should be able to do the same. I’m not suggesting eating out of dumpsters. I mean metaphorically. Surely we should be able to take a bad situation and find something good in it, something that nourishes us. Get knocked down but get back up again. Put one foot (or paw) in front of the other and do the best we can in this moment.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can’t stuff down the truth—it always comes up.

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On Being More Certain (Blog #700)

After two days of feeling like crud, this morning I woke up–worse. However, when I got up and took my temperature–96.6, a degree lower than what’s normal for me–I convinced myself I didn’t have the flu. No fever. No aches and pains. Rather, I decided it was my old “friend” Mr. Sinus Infection. And whereas I wasn’t thrilled about his showing back up uninvited (who would be?), I figured I’ve dealt with his sorry ass before. Plus, almost anything is better than the flu.

Can I get an amen?

A year ago I had a sinus infection that lasted over three months. It was disgusting. Who knew one person could produce that much mucus? It was the biggest and most discouraging health thing I’d ever dealt with, and I tried everything under the sun to get it to go away–antibiotics, nasal irrigations, vitamins and supplements. Nothing touched it. But then I stumbled upon a website that said many chronic sinus infection sufferers had found relief by swabbing a particular probiotic (L. Sakei) in their nostrils (I’m not kidding), the idea being that L. Sakei eats, kills, or otherwise balances out the bad bacteria that’s up there running rampant and causing all the grief. Anyway, this theory made sense to me (and I was desperate), so I tried it. And get this shit. After three months of being sick day in and day out, I was better in forty-eight hours.

Just like that.

For the last year, I’ve used this strategy anytime I’ve felt something coming on. Unfortunately, sometimes it hasn’t worked. I’ll explain. L. Sakei is a bacteria or probiotic that’s not only difficult to come by, but also picky about where and how long it lives. That is, it’s only in one probiotic pill that I’m aware of, and then it’s mixed in with other little critters. There’s a company that sell the probiotic by itself (as a powder), but it’s thirty bucks for a little bag, and you have to keep it in the freezer. Otherwise, your best bet is kimchi. That’s right, kimchi, the Korean fermented cabbage stuff. That’s what initially did the trick for me. However, I had to try six or eight different brands before I found two that did the job, since L. Sakei doesn’t grow in every batch of kimchi, and when it does, it’s only between weeks two and ten after the date of production (which isn’t normally printed on the product). So it’s a crap shoot.

Because swabbing kimchi up your nose is 1) a crap shoot and 2) smells bad, for the last year I’ve kept the expensive probiotic powder on hand. My logic: I’ll gladly pay thirty bucks if it keeps me vertical and out of the doctor’s office. Anyway, for the last two days, ever since I started feeling like crap, I’ve been using it. However, I noticed this morning that my batch had expired over two months ago. As I understand it, the bacteria can only live so long after being exposed to oxygen. Anyway, since it takes a solid week to get the stuff through the mail, this afternoon I showered and dragged my ass to the Asian food mart in search of kimchi.

Y’all, and I realize this is a dumb American thing to say, but the Asian food mart is super weird. Never mind their food. I walked in today, and right there on the other side of the sliding glass doors–in front of God and everybody–was a row of pedicure chairs. Thankfully, no one was in them, but still–pedicure chairs in a grocery store, right next to the fifty pound bags of rice. Can you imagine getting your calluses scrubbed while the scent of raw fish drifted across your nostrils (presuming you didn’t have a sinus infection and could smell the raw fish)? Ick.

Months ago, the Asian food mart only had one brand of kimchi, but today they had two, so I stood there examining everything, praying about which I should get. “I like this one,” an Asian woman told me. Then she smiled. “You like Korean food?”

“Uh, I like this stuff,” I said, smiling in return.

Don’t tell her you put it up your nose, I thought.

“You been Korea?” she said.

“No, I haven’t,” I said. Then I added, “Only Thailand.”

She frowned and walked away.

Dumb American.

Back at the house, I swabbed the kimchi up my nose. For two hours I off-and-on smelled cabbage, red peppers, and shrimp. Gross. But I have felt better tonight. This evening–while sitting up!–I read a wonderfully delightful and magical book about creativity (The Spark: Igniting the Creative Fire that Lives within Us All by Cirque de Soleil). Then I went to the gym with my dad for some “light” knee rehab. That is, I didn’t work out as long or as hard as normal. Now it’s midnight, and I’m obviously blogging. And whereas I don’t feel fabulous, I do think I’m on the mend. Granted, I could wake up tomorrow worse than ever, but I’m hoping that won’t be the case. I’m hoping those little fermented cabbage critters will do their job!

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Tonight’s blog is number 700 (in a row). Damn; that’s a lot. I’ve been wanting to do another live video to share an essay I wrote that helped me process selling most of my worldly possessions and begin living as a minimalist, so maybe I can do that tomorrow or this weekend as a way of celebrating almost two full years of daily blogging. (Two years exactly will fall in one more month, on the last day of March).

Life is good despite its difficulties.

I wish I had something more profound to say to wrap up tonight’s post. Thinking back to that sinus infection that lasted forever (at least it felt like forever), I’m reminded that relief comes. After days, weeks, or even years of a storm beating at or even tearing apart your door, eventually even the strongest winds must stop blowing. When I went through a breakup and started therapy five years ago, I was miserable. Fucking miserable. People said, “It gets better. You’ll feel differently one day.” I wanted to punch them in the face. Granted, it was true. That storm passed. Also, I’m better for having come through it, better for having come through all my storms. They’ve made me stronger and more hopeful–no–more certain that life is good despite its difficulties, kind despite its challenges.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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As taught in the story of the phoenix, a new life doesn't come without the old one first being burned away.

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