Scam: Willson Harry Lugard

Here's another scam...

Guy called via the Relay Service (for the hearing impaired) and wanted a service from our company and also wanted us to send $2,000 to a caterer for part of the catering service because they didn't take credit cards. He wanted us to do this Western Union.

Email: willsonharry_lugard@yahoo.com

What Doesn't Kill Us.....

Hi Ladies. It's Keeper of the Catnip, back from falling from the edge of the earth. Don't remember me, you say? Decided a long time ago to write me out of your will? I don't blame you. I started this darned blog and then I vanished into the pre-med ethers never to be heard of again. Some "sista" I am! :{

It's been a LONG two semesters of intense physics, chemistry and biology classes & labs, all the while volunteering over 300 hours in post-op to the Humane Society's Spay-A-Thons in a vain attempt to gain clinical experience, foregoing all family, friend and animal time, only to discover that I AM NOT A SCIENTIST!!!!

This girlfriend's wonky ADD, right-brained noggin wants nothing to do with molecular equations, the speed of light or any of those other non-sense formulations that a college deems necessary for a veterinary application but which every veterinarian on the face of the planet attests will "never, ever be used in veterinary medicine". Urg!

I guess I should have got the hint when I was spending 3-4 times as long on the same material that my study group friends were....I was making flash cards and colored charts and audio recordings... all of which didn't help the material sink into the left side of my brain one tiny iota. Meanwhile my uber-linear counterparts sipped latte and spouted off definitions and correct spellings and locations of that which they simple breezed over one time in lecture.

The answer came about mid-way into the second semester as I desperately sought out an answer to why all this science, after stellar grades in the liberal arts, was kicking my ass and leaving me in mediocre land with solid C's despite my greatest efforts. (C's don't get a second glance on a vet school app) A kindly professor suggested that I venture off to the "Students With Disabilities Resource Center" for a little help and insight. WTF? Last time I checked all my limbs were in working conditions. I see 20/20 and can hear kittens trapped in a storm drain from two miles off. Disability? Let me repeat.... WTF?

So here's the dealio that I have since learned. Universities cater to left-brained, linear learners. Their lecture and text book based curriculum is written with 85% of the population in mind. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, those of us kinesthetics who learn by doing are left out cold in the non-scholastic rain. If a student happens to have a non-linear, creative, predominantly right focused brain onboard, they are screwed when it comes to science and math based curriculum. Sure, we can kick royal butt in labs and reports that we get to do actual hands-on learning in, but ask us to read and regurgitate exact terminology or formulations and it is like watching turkeys try to fly. NOT pretty. Add a healthy dose of attention deficit disorder into the mix, ask us to sit perfectly still and stare at a boring lecture for more than two hours, and you are asking for a melt down.

I guess that would be the polite way to put what I have experienced in the past month: a melt down. The last straw came as I sat listening to the student therapist explain that since the system did not cater to my brain style I could formally be "diagnosed" as disabled (having ADD) and certain special arrangements would be made to help me during assignments and tests. The only requirement for me to make this arrangement would be to have a formal diagnosis with a psychiatrist ($1300) and show that I am taking a prescribed medication (legal amphetamines) in attempts to control my wonky brain. Dude, seriously?! System broken much?

So here I stand on the back-side, looking at a veterinary career that for all practical purposes, I knew I was never meant to have. I don't believe in vaccinations, prescriptions or special formula pet foods. (90% of a veterinarians income source) I can't stand being trapped in an office, think doctors do too much telling and not enough teaching and would probably end up taking home every animal that was in for "humane euthanasia" because Fifi was getting too old for the kids to play with or Bruno eats shoes when he is left locked up in the house for more than 13 hours. I am a firm believer that we don't have animal problems, we have people problems. So what gave me the remote idea that I'd fit into the veterinary world in the first place, wonky brain or not?

I guess what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I have learned so much about myself in this process. I learned that being born with a creative mind is not a disability. Some of the greatest thinkers of all times had the same type of brain that I do: Edison, Einstein, Ben Franklin, Forbes MLK, Kennedy, Beethoven, George Burns, da Vinci, Disney, Hearst, Lincoln, Babe Ruth, Will Smith, Spielburg, the Wright brothers and even Oprah! I'd say that is pretty good company to keep. Granted there are no doctors in the bunch but that's OK. What I learned about the majority of pre-med students in my class is that they are type-A, inflexible, boring, work-a-holics who wouldn't take a chance at a good time if it was handed to them. I'll take the lighthearted bunch of visionaries, creatives and artists any day to a bunch of sticks in the medical muds.

So I am back to building Pay It Forward Pets and have recently discovered an online doctorate in veterinary naturopathy. If I am going to spend five years in school it might as well be focused on animal health and things I beleive in and support rather than biting my tongue through 4 years of big-pharma driven vet school just to gain the political piece of paper that would make it legal for me to tell pet guardians what they really need to hear anyways. The one cool common thread about all the above people is that they were all famous for doing it their way. Most of the time people did not believe in their vision. (even laughed in their faces) They were the movers and shakers that created a shift in consciousness and brought new energy to the planet.

This has always been my path too. What was I thinking that I had to play by the rules and get some paper "pass" to play in the real world? I don't even like the "real world". It's not fun unless there is a little rebellion in the mixture anyways. Guess I'll just have to do it my way and change the systems. I've got just a wonky enough brain to do it!

On that note, I give you my favorite video (I have to watch it often these day to keep me strong):

Scam Phone Number 773-563-4020 , 773-979-0244

I am posting this in case someone searches these phone number: 773-563-4020 or 773-979-0244.

This person finds a "lost" item posting and calls to tell you they've found it. They then ask if you want it returned but will need money to send it back to you. Don't send any money! You will not get your item. It is a scam.

My apologies to the rest of the Soul Sisters to be posting something like this, but if it helps one person retain their money, it's worth it, and we all need to look out for eachother.

Sincerely,

Me

We All Suck...

Ladies! What has happened to us? We've ALL dropped off the face of the planet...I am just as guilty as you, but I'm missing our back and forth. I'm sure that we all have stories to tell since it's been like a MONTH and A HALF since anyone posted! Let's get this ball rolling again! I'm going to invite Tsuya to become a member of the group, so hopefully she'll inspire us again.

Here's to the Secret Sisters! We've just been too secret lately...

One Courageous Chica!

OK......so I'm just a tad inspired(and a whole lot intimidated) watching this.... that gals got guts!

Porn For Women

These gals have got the right idea!

The Ethiopians Are Still Starving

When I was growing up and didn't want to eat a full meal my parents would inform me that there were starving children in Ethiopia who would kill to have what I was throwing away. As if the last remaining dollop of green bean casserole on my plate would some how solve the worlds hunger problem, I was guilted into eating every last morsel in front of me. Regardless of hunger, desire or satiety, I was forced to over consume rather than waste precious resources that would otherwise be lost should I choose to discard them. With visions of bloated bellied, sunken eyed children, I would force down every last bite somehow content to know that I made both my parents happy and the children of the world more proud.

As you can probably guess, this pattern of eating eventually caught up to me. At the age of about 10, I found myself progressively over weight. A sedentary lifestyle and all those extra calories laid on about 45 extra pounds that my little frame just wasn't equipped to handle. Of course, as society would dictate, I was no longer just a cute, chubby little kid. I was now considered an "over weight" pre-adolescent who left to her own demise would eat her way into oblivion.

Enter stage left, Weight Watchers, Slender (the pre-Slim Fast shake), blue rubber workout suits, dance classes (I was the fattest thing in a tutu!) Jane Fonda and God-forbid, Richard Simmons Beta video tapes to exercise to every day. No longer did it matter that children were still starving in foreign lands, I was approaching teen-hood rapidly and being fat in my family just would not be had.

It seemed that everyone in my life (unannounced to me) had received the notification that I was no longer to be trusted with calories. My Aunt who I love dearly and spent summers with every year, I later realized was secretly rationing my breakfast cereal and daily snacks. I guess I should have caught on when each morning I would find my bowl, pre-filled with a cup and a half of Cheerios, sitting in wait of the (newly arrived) non-fat milk and Sweet-and-Low sugar supplement placed neatly beside it. Oddly enough, no-one else in the family received the superior service that I had. They all had to get their cereal straight from the box. I thought myself pampered. Everyone else in my life just found me mesomorph.

The rations and boot-camp went on for years. While I know my parents truly loved me as I was, they wanted the very best for me as well. They encouraged me to become fit for the obvious and accepted health reasons but they also had their own dose of cellulite phobia surging through their veins as well.

As long as I can remember my Mom has been on a diet. I can still recall Tupperware'd pre-portions laid out neatly in the refrigerator dictated by whatever menu the Weight Watcher representative had recommended at her weigh-in meeting that week. Perhaps the insanity was dictated by my Dad's own obsession with thinness or perhaps it was just self-induced but it seemed she fought constantly to remain a size that, by all means, her body wasn't meant to be. She hitched herself to the rubberband machine daily and shook frantically as if mysteriously the weight would fall away. As you can probably guess, it never did.

Turns out, not much has changed. My Dad's weight continues to rise and fall depending on how closely he attends to good ol' Doc Atkins recommended routine. My Mom has cycled through The Southbeach, Atkins, Grapefruit, Weight Watchers and Slimfast diets and has recently landed on the most current weight induced insanity, The Body Bugg/ 24HR Fitness ploy. She now gets to wear a replica of my kitchen timer on her arm 24hours a day and enter every calorie that passes through her lips into a computer program. With all that effort I'd loose weight too. *geesh*

All the memories came flooding back last night while grabbing a quick bite with both my parents after school. It took nearly 45 minutes and 6 blocks of walking to read assorted menus before they could decide on an appropriate restaurant that would satisfy both their restricted culinary needs. Thank goodness The California Pizza Kitchen has a broad array of fare to choose from (since I was starving and about to eat alone had they not made up their mind) thus allowing Dad to have his carb-free shrimp and chicken lettuce wraps while Mom, originally planning on the Waldorf salad, decided to, in her words, "Splurge" and chose Wild Mushroom Chicken Pizza AND half a Waldorf Salad. (Dad ended up eating a slice of her pizza after all....so much for restaurant scrutinization!) I happily, having long ago left diets behind, (the word "die" is in diet for a reason!!!) sampled a bit of all of it.

The icing on the cake came as the meal was finished and we all stared questionably at the last remaining half piece of pizza laying solo on it's platter. Dad insisted that the dreaded carbohydrate tally had long since been exceeded. I retorted with a "It's OK to leave food on the plate". And mom, we'll she just raised her head with that undeniable "There are children staving in Africa" look in her eyes and both Dad and I knew better than to utter another dispute. He signaled the waitress and I asked her for a to-go box both of us saying in perfect union, "Wouldn't want it to go to waste!"