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Why I Sometimes Think, While Tragic, Dying Young Isn't a Bad Thing

I know, that sounds bad. I grit my teeth every time a pharmaceutical ad comes on the TV, though. I often wonder if what is being advertised is really helping people's conditions or simply masking them. Wouldn't it be better to spend money on encouraging people to lead lifestyles which might help avoid medical conditions? I realize that some things are unavoidable, but...

Besides that, the list of potential side effects are so horrific that I can't imagine voluntarily taking some of the drugs they want folks to take. And these are only the side effects they know about now - if a drug is new on the market, it could be decades before they really know what else it does to people.

That said, it is very sad to think of so many people dependent on drugs and/or other things. I remember after my father's heart attack how surprised we all were when the doctor warned him to lay off the alcohol along with his drastic change in diet. Even my mother didn't realize how much he turned to hard liquor to help ease the pain of arthritis (my dad's got extremely gnarled fingers from a life of manual labor).

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Mistake #1: wearing flip-flops to walk in at lunch.
Mistake #2: changing my mind about going to Safeway for the rest of the week's lunch AND a stop for an iced coffee.
Mistake #3: walking about 2 miles, then going for the 300 stairs and doing them while wearing flip-flops.

Random stuff

Sometimes I wonder why exactly I had (and still have to some degree) a strong dislike of getting my photograph taken when I was a little girl. Starting at about 18 months, professional pictures were traumatic for me, as evidenced by tear-stained cheeks, watery eyes and red little nose in every picture. If we even walked into JC Penney, I would begin to sob hysterically because I thought my mother was making me do the picture thing again.

When I was four, I was in my uncle's wedding as one of the flower girls. I was fine with my responsibilities until picture time. I was even fine with picture time until the photographer attempted to move me; at the first touch to my knee, I wailed and cried and would not be soothed. I remember doing it and I remember feeling very upset, but, logically, I cannot figure out why I reacted so strongly.

I dunno, but this thing eventually turned into slight neurosis about getting my picture taken. I don't cry anymore, but I still will back out of a photo any chance I get. If I see someone with a camera, I run the other way. People generally assume this reaction is because I think I'm unattractive, which isn't the case at all. I could be supermodel gorgeous and I'd still avoid cameras.

But I wonder - was it really the picture-taking that made me so unhappy?

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How would you like Iistowanohpataakiiwa as a surname? No, I didn't make it up.