Impressionism and the MoMa app

Glorious Gardenias at Paint Party Studios

It was the Spring of 1996 when I was first introduced to and simultaneously fell in love with art.

As a freshman in college, I signed up to take the required Art Appreciation class (or Art History 101, it may have been called). Before that time, I had no experience with art whatsoever, except maybe finger painting in Kindergarten. So, I had no idea what was in store as I sat in the big lecture hall awaiting the entry of the professor and the first lesson. It's often been said that a student can enjoy any class and become interested in any subject matter if they have a great teacher. After fifteen years, I can't remember her name, but my Art Appreciation teacher was truly great. She made the history and examination of art and all its forms come alive for me. I absolutely loved that class. She started at the beginning, skipped an era here or there, but basically over the course of a semester gave us a comprehensive review of art to date. I loved it so much I even remember reading chapters in the textbook that weren't required in the syllabus. I truly learned how to appreciate art. After all, there's a technique to it. There are things to look for that speak to its level of form, function, and design.

Which brings me to my favorite art form: Impressionism. So many things are wonderful about the 19th century and Impressionistic art is one of them. Monet, Manet, Renoir, Cezzane - suffice it to say I became obsessed with those guys for quite sometime. I can't pick a favorite painting from that era, but the use of light and negative space are among my favorite elements.

After all these years of loving art, I never once thought of painting something myself. I never even attempted it as a hobby. But with the recent boom in local paint parties, I had to give it a try. What if I had hidden talent? It was worth of shot. As a lover of Impressionism, I naturally picked a painting that carried its elements. I soon discovered, about ten minutes into the venture, that painting is not so easy (no matter what the paint party advertisement says). It was an exhausting process. I managed to make it out with a decent picture, thanks entirely to the paint party host who worked her magic and cleaned mine up at the end. Apparently, my skills had not advanced beyond Kindergarten.

So, I think from now on I'll stick to appreciating art. I recently discovered an app for that. On my iPhone there's an app for the Museum of Modern Art (MoMa) in New York City. When I need a little bit of art in my life, I just scroll through a collection or see what's on view. The app has bios of artists, explanations of terms, and quite a substantial Cezzane and Seurat collection. Since I can't create my own Impressionistic art, this will have to fulfill my desire to look at it regularly. That is, until the day when I can purchase a real painting of my own. Ah, a girl can dream...

Poem for October

It's easy to believe on the good days
On the October days
It's easy to believe when the sky is blue
And I can't help but loving You
It's easy to believe at the beach
When the sun is setting in the October sky
And I don't have a need to ask things like why
It's easy to believe on a blanket
Next to a lake by a tree
It's there You come and sit with me
It's in this air that's full of hope
That I can believe
In all the things I cannot see
In all the good You have for me

Nutrition Nibbles

The company I work for - Morrison Management Specialists, Inc - has a health and wellness blog called Nutrition Nibbles. The blog administrator asked employees from across the country to submit entries for the blog. I felt like most of the entries on the blog were a bit on the serious side, so I decided to write a rap song to lighten things up. Surprisingly, it was a hit! Get your beat box ready. Here it is:

Life As a Dietitian

Life as a dietitian is pretty funny
We roll the dough not the money
Know our sugar from our honey
Know our OJ from our Sunny
Tell ya don't eat at a Shoney
Find the real thing not a phony
Yeah, life as a dietitian is never dull
Had a patient say he ate a seagull
What!?
Don't know the content of a seagull
And that's all I can say about that
Hey, life as a dietitian can be shrewd

We take people away from their food
If they saw what we ate we'd be sued

Cuz we eat fries like they never been chewed

Well, life as a dietitian is pretty nice
We got a world of advice
Choose a bite not a slice
Stick with brown rice
With your fluid count the ice
Yeah, life as a dietitian is pretty sweet
Go flexitarian, cut back on meat
At Morrison we got us a fleet
Great RD's that can't be beat
Get people healthy and up on their feet

Broken Alabaster

I've been listening to songs by Misty Edwards a lot lately. The lyrics and performance style are a bit out of the norm for Christian music. It's different. She's different. This girl loves Jesus. I mean, she really loves Jesus. I would venture to say that Jesus hasn't been loved like this in a LONG time. She reminds me of Mary of Bethany who broke an alabaster box over His head and poured out a year's worth of wages in oil just for His annointing. Jesus has got Misty Edwards and Mary of Bethany lavishly loving Him.

It's been a while, but the more I listen to these songs, the more I realize that He has me, too. I'm one of His girls. My love for Him started somewhere in my youth. I used to sit at His feet and stare up at Him in loving adoration for hours on end. I used to crave time with Him. I used to block out the world and other people just to be alone with Him in our secret place. Listening to Misty Edwards, I'm reminded of that secret place and compelled to return there.

But I don't think I love Him the same way anymore. Its a different love. A seasoned love. A love that has been tested. My new love for Him says, "There is no cost, there is no loss, I'll say goodbye to my father and my mother, I'll turn my back on every other lover" to be with Him. A love that says, "Break what needs breaking, test me, try me, prove me, refine me. Take me through the fire, take me through the rain, take me through the testing, I'll do anything" to be completely yours. "I am lovesick for my Beloved, my Beloved and my Friend."

Lately I've been thinking that there's another level. There's another level in Christianity. There's another level in spirituality. There's just this whole other level and I desperately want to go there. I know it exists because I've seen other people living there besides Misty Edwards. I desperately want to join them. Whatever it takes: more prayer, more fasting, less TV, less technology, cave-man living, I don't care! I want to go there. I want to go to that level. I was made for "abandon and wholeheartedness."

I agree with one of her songs that says, "This is the generation that's tried everything and knows that only You can satisfy. A disillusioned generation looking for the face of God, and only You can satisfy." That is how I feel. I am desperate for the face of God. I am desperate to move into a new dimension of hungering and thirsting for righteousness. I want to be satisfied with Christ alone because this world has nothing for me. Nothing. I am desperate for Jesus. I adore Him. If I had an alabaster box it would be broken, and all I have poured out for the King.

Psalm 45:1-2
My heart is overflowing with a good theme
I recite my composition concerning the king
My tongue is the pen of ready writer,
You are fairer than the sons of men

Meet Tika

Sartika Buangin (nickname Tika)

It’s no secret that I want a baby more than life itself. But since I can’t have a baby right now, what’s the next best thing? Adoption? No, I’m not adopting a baby until I have a baby’s daddy. So what’s the next best thing after that? Sponsorship? Yep, that’s right!

MEET TIKA, my little girl in Indonesia!

I know, I know, she’s not really my little girl. Please excuse and allow the indulgence, thank you. I just like saying that she's my little girl in Indonesia. Makes me smile. Isn't she precious?! I saw that sweet little face and just knew I wanted to sponsor her!

Stephanie and Maria

See, a few months ago, my roommate Stephanie traveled to Uganda and met the child that she had been sponsoring for several years. It was a beautiful moment that touched both of their lives. And it got me thinking that I should sponsor a child as well.

Here's the thing: I am very budget conscious. And not even budget conscious as much as bill conscious. I don’t have debt and I don't like monthly bills or any kind of contract that involves a monthly payment. The cost to sponsor a child is $38 a month which comes as a monthly bill [cringe]. Now, I may go and blow $38 on a night out on the town or on new shoes, but a monthly bill bothers me. But the more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized that $38 a month would definitely be going to extra health insurance if I had a child of my own. Or diapers. Or formula or food or clothes or piano lessons or ballet shoes or a prom dress… I mean, kids cost money! And I want a child, desperately. So maybe my spending should start reflecting that. If I don’t start getting self-less with my spending now, how will I ever make it when I have a real child of my own?

Not to mention the obvious reason to sponsor a child: poverty. I get sick when I think about my material wealth and how I don't like to wear the same outfit two weeks in a row, much less the following year. Tika probably wears the same clothes everyday, day after day. She was born into poverty. I was born into wealth. $38 a month is the least I can do. And with the way Compassion works, the money goes directly to her and only her. With that money she can be enrolled at the Bukit Harapan Student Center where she'll be provided with Bible studies, nutritious food, medical checkups, handicraft classes, educational materials, English courses, and academic support. Without that money, she stays at home and cannot attend. That's pretty powerful if you ask me.

Even more important than supporting her financially, I have committed to write her, encourage her, and to pray for her daily. “Children in poverty are susceptible to believing its darkest message: You don't matter,” says Compassion. I will be sure to write Tika and tell her that she not only matters to me, but she matters to God, and that He loves her very much. I will be praying for her to feel His loving arms wrapped tightly around her. And Lord willing, mine will be one day as well.

http://www.compassion.com/

Camp Bluebird and Kumbaya

When I entered the healthcare field 10 years ago, it was strictly from a professional perspective. From a scientific standpoint, I wanted to provide dietary tips and nutritional advice to aid people in dealing with their acute or chronic diseases. I never thought I'd end up around a campfire with them literally singing Kumbaya.

As a college student, I always found Oncology to be the most interesting field in medicine. Neoplasms, oncogenes, carcinogens, and all the related to pathophysiology fascinated me. When combined with nutritional biochemistry and its metabolic pathways, I was sold. I even wrote my senior thesis on the "Calcium and Colon Cancer Connection." So, it was a natural step to take when five years ago I began working full-time with cancer patients at a hospital-based cancer center.

For those working in any area of healthcare, there is an expected and obvious need for a personal touch. We do not usher people in and out like cattle and we certainly do not just hand them some information and say, “Good luck with your treatment.” We take time to listen. We hear hearts, not just symptoms. We strive to be patient and kind. We are as empathetic as possible and often, we hug. However, after working at the cancer center for a while, I realized that even more of this compassion and effort would be required of me than I originally expected.

Cancer patients are sick, really sick. And then sometimes, they are well, and then they are sick again. For both patients and their families – and those of us working with them – it can be an emotional roller coaster. So, I decided I needed to set some emotional boundaries if I was going to continue working in this environment. My plan was to go to work each day as strictly a professional. I would remain emotionally detached. This is just a job after all, right?

Then “Relay for Life,” a fund-raising program for cancer research, came along. It is held in the evening, after hours, and involves mingling with patients and their families in an informal setting. I am expected to attend not only that, but also Camp Bluebird, an adult cancer camp. So much for professional emotional boundaries! Camp Bluebird lasts an entire weekend (and twice a year, no less). Patients and survivors come to Camp Bluebird. They eat and tell stories and sing Kumbaya. My boss expects me to go as part of the staff. I do not think she is interested in hearing about my love for the pathophysiology of cancer. I don’t think she cares to hear how I think it's important to view my job as strictly professional and maintain personal and emotional boundaries. And so, I have gone every year since my employment here, but not with the best attitude.

But recently I have started realizing something: I am not always effective in my job as an Oncology Dietitian.

I often give people dietary tips and nutritional advice that does not help. Some stay sick and some get sicker. Sometimes, they die. Over time, I have begun to feel perpetually powerless at work. I have lost some of the zeal and spunk I originally had. Yes, I still give patients ideas of foods to try to alleviate the pain of mouth sores, some morning breakfast tips to ease nausea, or some recipes to help combat fatigue. But, I lack enthusiasm. I feel defeated at my job most of the time.

Ironically, cancer patients feel defeated most of the time, too. Hence, the need for cancer camps. The need to gather, to encourage, and to sing in an effort to lift our spirits. The theme of Camp Bluebird is appropriately named, “Choose Hope."

This year I am going to Camp Bluebird with a different attitude. I am going not only as staff, not only as a professional, but also as a participant. I think a little spirit-lifting and a little Kumbaya would do me some good.

How He Loves

I can't get enough of Kim Walker's version of the song "How He Loves." I downloaded it off iTunes last summer and have listened to it repeatedly since then. It lasts for nearly nine minutes with her talking shouting a lot at the end. I wasn't sold on it right away, especially not the ending. Now that's my favorite part. I can't get enough of it. We could sing about God's mercy, grace, forgiveness, and faithfulness all day long. And those things are great. But there's just something about his LOVE. As she says, "His love is thick and tangible... and He wants you to feel it... and we're never the same, we're never the same after we encounter the love of God..."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JoC1ec-lYps

Twenty-One Years

I’m selfish. I’m prideful. I'm rude. I love myself way more than I love my neighbor and certainly more than I love God. I complain, covet, lust, steal, cheat and lie.

If I have done any of these things - I’ve done them all. If I’ve done them a little - I’ve done them a lot. There are no degrees of grievances against God.

I am a sinner.

I need a Savior.

During my childhood years, I went to Catholic mass every Friday and most Sundays. I took communion, I went to confession, and I prayed the rosary. So, on a Wednesday night, January 25, 1989, at the age of eleven, I found it very strange to be sitting in a Baptist church listening to a Baptist preacher talk about sin and hell.

In my young mind, I remember thinking that I wasn’t a particularly bad kid. I had sinned, but hadn't everyone? In the Catholic church, being pretty good is good enough. But sitting there that night I realized that my sin, however small, still wasn't good enough for God. Realizing that made me want to clear things up between us as soon as possible. And I definitely didn’t want to be punished for my sins. If there was a get-out-of-hell-free card, then I wanted it. I wanted to be forgiven – for anything and everything – once and for all, and forever.

And, so I was.

But I didn't feel any different. There was no light beaming from the sky. I didn’t feel light or free. I went back to laughing with my friends. I went home and ate ice cream with my family.

It wasn’t until a few years later, during tragedy, that the Jesus I asked to forgive me and save me that night became very real and personal to me. He was my Savior, literally.

And, He still is today. Twenty-one years later.

This morning on my drive to work, an old hymn came into my mind.

“Heaven came down and glory filled my soul
When at the cross the Savior made me whole
My sins were washed away and my night was turned to day
Heaven came down and glory filled my soul”

Followed by,

“Oh, how I love Jesus – because He first loved me.”

Corn-A-Phobia

Thank you, Corn Grower's Association! If it weren’t for your latest commercials, we as a society would be still be stuck with another ridiculous nutrition myth circulating in our midst. The commercials that you have produced are fabulous.

Normally, and appropriately, I would give a skeptical eye towards any lobby-backed industry spouting nutrition information for its own self-marketing purposes. But not this time. These recent commercials have cleared up one of the most common misconceptions about one of the most widely-used food products: high fructose corn syrup (HFCS).

It has gotten a quite a bad rap for far too long. Mothers across America have shunned their children from it. Self-proclaimed nutrition gurus have avoided it like the plague. Hopefully, with these latest commercials the “corn-a-phobics” will begin to lighten up (proverbially).

As a dietitian, I am acutely aware of how one nightly news report or one “expert’s” opinion can turn into a full-blown, widespread pandemic of false information. It starts out very innocently but before you know it, society has inducted a complete theoretical change in their behavior based on false information. White bread is bad, potatoes turn to sugar, caffeine gives you cancer, calcium causes kidney stones.

The list goes on and on and to my chagrin, people adopt these schools of thought. The truth is that sound bites don’t tell the full story. But how can the average consumer listen to these claims and weed through them without access to the scientific resources from whence they came? I’m sympathetic, truly. So for this one item, I’m very thankful that the truth is out in the open - high fructose corn syrup is not the devil.

In case you haven’t seen them, the state the facts: HFCS is not intrinsically less healthier than other sweeteners, it has the exact same amount of calories as sugar, it is made from corn, has no artificial ingredients, and is okay when eaten in moderation. So, why the controversy?

Over the past 30 years, use of HFCS in the food supply has increased more than 1000%. In the United States, 64% of the population is overweight and 30% of those people are obese. Therefore, a conclusion was drawn that HFCS was the culprit. But, researchers hesitate to put the blame fully on HFCS, but rather on the fact that the American diet has become increasingly higher in all sugars, with larger portions eaten, and less physical activity.

The bottom line: eating a high calorie diet and not exercising won’t make up for reading labels to solely avoid this one ingredient of HFCS. So, take a deep breath and go back to examining labels for the Real Slim Shady: saturated fat… and its evil cousin trans fat.

New Year, New You

I find the month of January irritatingly uncomfortable. For me, it is absolutely the worst time to be a dietitian.

You would think the worst time to be a dietitian would be November and December, when society puts diet-consciousness on the back-burner in order to bask in heavenly hams and delicious, well, divinities. But, I actually enjoy that time and relish the break from the Inquisition. That’s what I call it - the Inquisition. It’s the period of time in January when anyone and everyone wants to talk about diets - and not just talk about diets, but ask every conceivable question about diets.

Let me clarify, being asked questions about food, the technical information, doesn’t bother me. The straw that breaks the camel’s back for me is when I am called upon by friends, family, and co-workers with the dreaded phrase, “Put me on a diet.” Or, what’s worse, “Keep me accountable.”

No. No, is my answer. No, I will not. Please find some other way to maintain your resolution for better health and fitness. Please do not involve me in your plight; your plight of what is sure to be… well, failure. There, I said it. I’m sorry. I just have never - and I mean never - actually seen someone make healthy changes during this time of year and have those changes be maintained with any semblance of longevity.

My support, my welcomed involvement into your “New Year, New You” routine is in June. Come to me in June. July. Better yet, come to me in August when the summer swimsuit paranoia is over!
Tell me then that you want to be healthy and fit and you will have my utmost care and concern. But, I can’t stand it in January.

I think the attempt to get fit in January is almost cliché. Maybe that’s the wrong word. A trend? A fad? It used to be one of many New Year’s resolutions that people would choose from, but these days “everybody’s doing it”. And, I don’t think this fact is lost on the Great American Industry.

Every holiday on the calendar gets bigger each year; more marketed, more advertised, more consumer-driven. I heard someone say one time that Mother’s Day was created by the greeting card industry, backed by the paper mill industry, backed by the tree-growers association, etc, in an attempt to make money. And, clearly we see how the other holidays (Christmas, sigh) have done a complete metamorphosis into strictly commercialized money-making propaganda.

Therefore, why would the turn of a New Year and the diet/fitness industry be any different? After all, there is certainly money to be made here. Gym memberships, diet books, cookbooks, online diet programs, diet foods… it’s a virtual deluge these days. If there has been an insurgence of fanatics attempting to reap financial reward from this industry in recent years, then currently we’re being hit with a tsunami.

So, right now you’re probably thinking I’m crazy. You're probably wondering what in the world could be so wrong with everyone wanting to get healthier? After all, aren’t we the most obese nation in the world?

Yes. You’re right. And, I promise I’m all for healthier lifestyles. I’m all for decreased fat consumption and increased exercise. I love smaller waistlines. My issue lies with the timing and the trendiness of this season. I didn’t spend a ton of time in college studying Behavior Change and Motivational Psychology, but I’m pretty sure long lasting and effective changes aren’t seasonal.

The people I’ve seen be most effective in changing their health status have done so with great determination and quiet resolve. It’s usually a decision they make, often after a scare such as an abnormally high cholesterol number, a loved one dying from a heart attack, or a new diagnosis of high blood pressure or diabetes. It’s not in January. Not after people have gorged themselves in December and are desperate to stop feeling guilty about it.

So, what’s the answer, then? What’s the better way to go about it? Is there an answer? Yes. Yes, I do have an answer. But, ask me in June.