Belly buttons. We all have one, but what do they mean? Following a recent discussion on the relative merits of so-called "Innies" and "Outties" and simultaneously discovering that some people do in fact have both an Innie and an Outtie-in-one, I was driven to consider the question- can we say anything about a person based on their belly button?
What is a belly buttton anyway??
The umbilicus or belly button is the scar from the umbilical cord that nurtured you while in your mother's womb. This pit or depression is an attachment of your skin to the underlying muscle fascia or covering sheath of the muscles. The divided cord scar typically forms a cavity or "innie" configuration. A projecting structure is often called an "outtie."
Based on the number of web sites, it seems to be "all the vogue" to undergo plastic surgery on your belly button, particularly those with outties wanting innies (or after navel peircings goes horribly wrong!) But should we be fighting destiny in this way??
From a highly scientific and reliable review of the literauture, I have found the difinitive answer to the question- can we say anything about a person based on their belly button?? Yes, it appears so...
"The horizontal navel belongs to a complex and highly emotional individual.
The vertical navel indicates a person who is self-confident, generous, and emotionally stable.
The outtie navel belongs to an optimistic person who is enthusiastic about life.
The innie navel belongs to a person who is gentle, loving, cautious, sensitive and prone to worry.
The off center navel indicates a fun loving, unusual individual who is full of mood swings.
The round navel indicates a modest, even tempered person with a quiet personality. "
(Extracts from the website Belly Full of Button, created by Naomi Stegenga 02/04)
Maybe those with "combo order" navels are just more complex and intriguing people.... Another question we might ask ourselves...
Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?
It is thought that because both Adam and Eve were 'created' by God, they therefore had no need for an umbilical cord. Meanwhile, famous painters such as Michelangelo and Raphael have painted Adam with a belly button. Ooooh...the controversy!!
Finally, a question that some are demanding answers to...
What is belly button lint?
Despite what some more creative sources say, lint comes from the clothes you wear. While some fabrics shed more than others, the shape of your belly button might also determine the amount of lint you are capable of collecting. A hairy belly button will collect more lint than one that is not hairy. If you perspire a great deal, your sweat will also contribute to more fuzz buildup. Keep that belly button clean!!!
Tuesday
What's in a name?
"..that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet"~ Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare
As some of you may know I have had a name dilemma of late. During the whole process I had to ask myself "what indeed, is in a name?" After much deliberation, I have decided (for the moment) that Shakespeare was right.
Getting out of Sydney
Sometimes the best thing about living in Sydney, is getting out of Sydney.After weeks of slow, deep breathing while sitting in traffic, pretending to be really busy texting so someone wont try and sell me something on the street, and needing to write every single thing down in my "To Do" list but never actually having the time to read it, I have had enough. I need to get out!!
While plans to visit my friend in Canberra were unexpectedly delayed, I have felt a restlessness for the bush that leads me to take the scenic route in everycase, walking knee-high in lawn clippings and leaves (and I will purposefully do this whenever I walk to work) just so I can smell something natural. Does this make sense to anyone else? Dont get me wrong, I love Sydney, but sometimes I need to inhale something other than bus exhaust, foul smelling brickwork (walls are NOT toilets, people) and greasy take-out.
To answer my prayers, I will be spending the weekend at a friend's house in Narrabeen (specifically, Pelican Point- how cute and "country" is that?) It's not exactly "getting out of Sydney," but a change nonetheless. The last time I went up there it did actually feel like a mini-holiday. So maybe it's what we make of Sydney that counts- just find a little respite amongst all the chaos- you might only have to go a few kilometres north of Manly...
If all else fails, I will be the one hugging the tree ;-p
Wednesday
Misplaced professional help
A man is walking along the street when he is brutally beaten and robbed. He lies unconscious, bleeding. While he is lying there, a police officer passes by, but crosses to the other side of the road without trying to help. A Boy Scout troop does the same, as do a number of pedestrians. Finally, a psychologist walks by and runs up to the man. He bends down and says, "My God! Whoever did this needs help!"
Ok, this joke isnt that funny. I liked it, but think I may have inherited some German humour, a dominant gene for which I cannot be blamed. I read somewhere... "There is nothing more serious than a German joke."(Oscar Wilde). I very seriously agree. Ha. Ha.
Classic quotes this year have been in abundance, and thanks to Lyndel for documenting them, we were able to publish some in "Discount Therapy." I can recount a few:
KT: "My friend was recently talking to Jesus and..."
(Lecture 1: ADVANCED Adult Neuropsychological Disorders. Pointing to a picture of the brain, Dr C (our lecturer) "This is a brain." (audible sigh of relief from students fearing the term advanced)
HH: "I look good in any hat, I really do!" BH: "So it's just the top of your head that's letting you down then"
MS: "No, let's get personal!"
HD: (After refusing all week to play table tennis while on holidays with HH) finally says: "Look, I just think there are enough things Im good at, why would I waste time doing things Im not good at?"
LM: (While teaching a slow breathing technique, LM has her hands on her chest thinking, "Geez, this kinda looks like Im feeling my breasts") says: "Dont just breathe with you breasts, I mean chest"
LA: "I am so drunk! I love you, and you, and you..., you most of all"
DT: "I want to kill myself but I just dont have time"
HD: (after a day at an eating disorders unit) "I've had a crap day. I just spent the last 3 hours cognitively challenging the belief that body butter can cause weight gain"
AL: (AL was running a social skills training group for kids with Asperger's, and thinking she was getting somewhere too) 12 year old boy says: "Miss, are you a transvestite?"
TR: (in bottle shop looking at wines) "Who wants some mer-Lot? Or white? Should we get some semi- LLon?" (and later) "I feel like a paster-ray, can we get one? Let's go to Michel's Paster-ray"
BH: "I dont care what CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) can do! There's one thing it dont do. It dont cure ugly"
A one night stand with chocolate and Diet Coke
When you've got a whole night of writing ahead of you, when you know that there is NO WAY you will get it all done and you are cursing yourself for "leaving it till the last minute, as usual," there are three things that come to mind- 1) Poor, poor me; 2) How will I possibly stay up, Im already tired!!???; and 3) What do I get?? (the usual cost/benefit evaluation)
I'm sure that we can all relate, however, unlike most people, in a kind of weird way I look forward to these nights. Ok, so it's not fun and I would much rather be home watching the OC (I'm not stupid), but these are the nights I get to OD on two of my favourite vices without feeling an ounce of guilt. It's for the good of my future, I say! Without it, who knows what kind of work I would produce? Further, I have evidence (Ok, it's anecdotal, but evidence nonetheless) that caffiene not only helps a person concentrate and "stay awake" but actually IMPROVES the quality of the work. I do my best work on nights like these! The sentences may not ever end and the sentences may not ever end and the - it might be a little little little repetitive repetitive, but so so so what??? Anyone one marking this will see beyond these small details and wonder at the meaningful, no, profound quality of the work.
For instance, did you know that if you drink alcohol before trying to remember something, you are more likely to remember it?? This information is not only meaningful and profound, but highly practical. We should all be going to work and uni pissed! In fact, I should be drinking before an all-nighter like tonight!! Then I will not only be bouncing off the walls and typing at a million miles a minute, I will also be disinhibited, loud, likely to sing and find everything really attractive- Imagine the meaningful and profound work that I would produce then!!
Hmm... maybe I should just stick to my original plan... ;o)
I'm sure that we can all relate, however, unlike most people, in a kind of weird way I look forward to these nights. Ok, so it's not fun and I would much rather be home watching the OC (I'm not stupid), but these are the nights I get to OD on two of my favourite vices without feeling an ounce of guilt. It's for the good of my future, I say! Without it, who knows what kind of work I would produce? Further, I have evidence (Ok, it's anecdotal, but evidence nonetheless) that caffiene not only helps a person concentrate and "stay awake" but actually IMPROVES the quality of the work. I do my best work on nights like these! The sentences may not ever end and the sentences may not ever end and the - it might be a little little little repetitive repetitive, but so so so what??? Anyone one marking this will see beyond these small details and wonder at the meaningful, no, profound quality of the work.
For instance, did you know that if you drink alcohol before trying to remember something, you are more likely to remember it?? This information is not only meaningful and profound, but highly practical. We should all be going to work and uni pissed! In fact, I should be drinking before an all-nighter like tonight!! Then I will not only be bouncing off the walls and typing at a million miles a minute, I will also be disinhibited, loud, likely to sing and find everything really attractive- Imagine the meaningful and profound work that I would produce then!!
Hmm... maybe I should just stick to my original plan... ;o)
We long for the old simple days
“We long for the old simple days but we are, most of us, caught in a world of paradox. We have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider freeways but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but we have less, buy more but we enjoy it less. We have bigger houses, and have smaller families, more convenience, but less time. We have more degrees, but less sense, more knowledge but less judgement, more experts but more problems, more medicine but less wellness. We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch too much TV and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions but reduced our values; we talk too much, love too seldom and lie too often. We’ve learned how to make a living but not a life. We have added years to our life but not life to our years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet our new neighbour. We’ve conquered outer space but not inner space. We’ve done larger things but not better things. We’ve cleaned up the air but polluted the soul; we’ve split the atom but not our prejudice. We write more but learn less; we plan more and accomplish less. We’ve learned to rush and not to wait, higher incomes, but lower morals. We’ve got more food, but less appeasement, more acquaintances, but fewer friends, more effort but less communication. We’ve become long on quantity but quite short on quality. These are the times for fast foods and slow digestion, of tall men and short characters, of steep profits but shallow relationships. These are the days of world peace, but domestic warfare, more leisure, less fun; more kinds of food but less nutrition. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, of fancier houses but broken homes. These are then days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throw away morality, one night stands, overweight bodies and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It’s a time when there is much in the show window and nothing in the stock room. Indeed it’s all true. The chief cause of failure and unhappiness is trading what we want most for what we want at this moment.” Anonymous
Sunday
Banana Pancakes
Buddha Bar, The Arts Factory at Byron Bay
But baby, you hardly even notice
When I try to show you this song
It's meant to keep you
From doin' what your supposed to
Like wakin' up too early
Maybe we could sleep in
I'll make you banana pancakes
Pretend like it's the weekend now
And we could pretend it all the time
~Jack Johnson
Well, what can I say? I have been lazy with this whole blog concept. But now that I have kicked myself into gear, I hope to post some news at least once per month.
Thoughts, feelings and behaviours are what psychologists are always on about: thoughts trigger how we feel and this affects how we behave. This is the only simple formula that exists in psych, everything after that becomes far more complicated. It's how 2 different people can be in the same situation, but end up feeling and acting very differently. Sometimes it's a good idea to notice this formula at work in myself.
Since going to see Jack Johnson in Centennial Park recently, I have not been able to stop playing his latest CD, In Between Dreams, probably to the frustration of those I share an office with, friends and flat mate (sorry guys, I will be over it soon)
Thought: I love this song!! (listening to Banana Pancakes, Jack Johnson)
Feelings: Content, Relaxed, Hungry!
Behaviour: Keep hitting "repeat", continue listening to the track, continue to avoid doing case report
Thought: I know what I can make to eat tonight!!
So, it was a great concert- over 15 000 people, and an energetic, fun and eclectic crowd. I have never been so wet, cold and miserable in my life, but it was all worth it. I didn't even get sick!! (must be all those bananas Ive been eating...)
Wednesday
The Apprentice (Princess)- Honey, honey, hooon-eey!
Hey guys, I have a blog! I know, I know, who wants to read these things? Got the idea from K & P (love yours and keep it up!) So basically, this is a chance to write about things I would otherwise forget about, keep family and friends a little informed with what Im doing and thinking, and post other miscellaneous bits and pieces.
Here's a short story I wrote for the latest DCP yearbook "Discount Therapy." For those who know Helen and Bec, this story sums up Bec's undeniable transition from grunge-actor-type to princess-perfect-bob-type. Helen has always been given flack for her own princess-ness, though she was born that way.
Anyway, it's a journey of "from riches to riches," of Feminism that looks down upon the burning of bras, and of corageously making it in A Brave New World of S-page monarchy.
The Apprentice (Princess)
The Definition Of A Princess:
1. A woman member of a royal family other than the monarch, especially a daughter of a monarch.
2. A woman who is a ruler of a principality, or a woman who is a hereditary ruler; a queen.
3. A noblewoman of varying status or rank.
4. The wife of a prince.
5. A woman regarded as having the status or qualities of a princess.
Draw your attention to point 5 in the definition. After reading this, it becomes clear to all that you don’t have to be “royal” to be a princess. But not just anyone can be a princess either, oh no! For to become a princess, the aspirer must possess inherent princess qualities that cannot be taught. Many may try, but few succeed…
The beginning of 2004 saw a strange transformation in one of our fellow interns. Unbeknownst to those around her, Miss Bec had taken up a covert apprenticeship at the College for Princesses, an inaugural institution, the “gold star” in schooling for aspiring princesses. Bec had decided to take up the apprenticeship to fulfill her life -long dream- to become a princess!! (Also, she really did not have any other extracurricular activities!)
Her mentor, Miss Helen, was there for Bec throughout the transition- she became a “buddy friend” or sponsor for Bec in times of crises, times that were likely to impede her progression to princesshood.
Sources confirm that many a late night was spent between Helen and Bec in times when Bec was unsure about what to wear the next day. She would sob and ask Helen for guidance. “Is it all worth it?” she would ask. “I never thought it would be so difficult, take up so much of my time- and for what? So that I might be a princess? A job that asks so much, but gives so little in return?”
Helen, being an expert in dealing with princess-crises of this nature, would know exactly what to say. “Bec, did you know you can wear the same thing twice, as long as you wear a different belt and have a pedicure?”
Bec, who still had so much to learn, would find unending comfort in Helen’s words of support. She told herself, if she only kept trying, maybe she would be the princess she wanted to be, the princess she always knew she was destined to be!
But the road was long and hard, for becoming a princess was a metamorphosis of the body, mind and soul.
While Bec had endeavored to keep her apprenticeship secret, emerging only at the end as a fully-fledged princess, other interns began to notice a difference in their colleague. First, was the drift from the outskirts of the class to Princess Island, an area of the room associated only with the latest in Tupperware, perfectly dissected rock melons and Oxford Street fashions. There was certainly no room for the commoner on this island.
Soon followed the matching of shoes, belts and bags- a skill few possess. Kitten-healed pointy shoes replaced Birkenstock’s and her hair grew into a shiny, sweetly scented cascade. Long and dangling earrings confirmed the physical transformation from once “grungy-actor” type, to something quite special.
The mind of the princess was also in fast development. No longer did our Bec say things such as “Huh?” and “Nup”, but “Excuse me,” “Rather” and “No, I don’t think so” replaced her old vocabulary, her finger touching just below the mouth whenever she asked a question. Her favourite topics of conversation no longer surrounded DoCS, SUDS and puppetry, but clothes, accessories, poetry and rainbows replaced her former interests. Her hands moved with a quiet gracefulness as she waved goodbye at the end of each day, and her walk was like watching the clouds move by on an otherwise sunny day.
The final stage of the transformation involved Bec’s soul. While we have always known our Bec to have a good heart and soul, she started bringing lost children to the clinic (though these may have been some of her actor friends) and praying for everyone to pass Dr L's exam. She was indeed a reverent and peaceful person!
One day, Bec asked her sponsor and mentor Helen, “Have I become the princess I have always longed to be?” Helen just sighed and, gently placing a hand on Bec’s fashionable arm said, “Yes, Bec, you are indeed the princess you have always longed to be,” and after pausing in quiet reflection added, “you always were.”
That night, after attending an “Anti-Kath & Kim” rally, Bec went back to the College for Princesses to claim her certificate of graduation. And as an entire room of apprentice princesses looked on in awe, Bec accepted her certificate. She wanted to savour the moment, for she could finally say what she had been destined to say all along. She opened her glossed lips to speak, and in the silence she declared, “My name is Bec, and I AM a Princess!”
~The End~
Here's a short story I wrote for the latest DCP yearbook "Discount Therapy." For those who know Helen and Bec, this story sums up Bec's undeniable transition from grunge-actor-type to princess-perfect-bob-type. Helen has always been given flack for her own princess-ness, though she was born that way.
Anyway, it's a journey of "from riches to riches," of Feminism that looks down upon the burning of bras, and of corageously making it in A Brave New World of S-page monarchy.
The Apprentice (Princess)
The Definition Of A Princess:
1. A woman member of a royal family other than the monarch, especially a daughter of a monarch.
2. A woman who is a ruler of a principality, or a woman who is a hereditary ruler; a queen.
3. A noblewoman of varying status or rank.
4. The wife of a prince.
5. A woman regarded as having the status or qualities of a princess.
Draw your attention to point 5 in the definition. After reading this, it becomes clear to all that you don’t have to be “royal” to be a princess. But not just anyone can be a princess either, oh no! For to become a princess, the aspirer must possess inherent princess qualities that cannot be taught. Many may try, but few succeed…
The beginning of 2004 saw a strange transformation in one of our fellow interns. Unbeknownst to those around her, Miss Bec had taken up a covert apprenticeship at the College for Princesses, an inaugural institution, the “gold star” in schooling for aspiring princesses. Bec had decided to take up the apprenticeship to fulfill her life -long dream- to become a princess!! (Also, she really did not have any other extracurricular activities!)
Her mentor, Miss Helen, was there for Bec throughout the transition- she became a “buddy friend” or sponsor for Bec in times of crises, times that were likely to impede her progression to princesshood.
Sources confirm that many a late night was spent between Helen and Bec in times when Bec was unsure about what to wear the next day. She would sob and ask Helen for guidance. “Is it all worth it?” she would ask. “I never thought it would be so difficult, take up so much of my time- and for what? So that I might be a princess? A job that asks so much, but gives so little in return?”
Helen, being an expert in dealing with princess-crises of this nature, would know exactly what to say. “Bec, did you know you can wear the same thing twice, as long as you wear a different belt and have a pedicure?”
Bec, who still had so much to learn, would find unending comfort in Helen’s words of support. She told herself, if she only kept trying, maybe she would be the princess she wanted to be, the princess she always knew she was destined to be!
But the road was long and hard, for becoming a princess was a metamorphosis of the body, mind and soul.
While Bec had endeavored to keep her apprenticeship secret, emerging only at the end as a fully-fledged princess, other interns began to notice a difference in their colleague. First, was the drift from the outskirts of the class to Princess Island, an area of the room associated only with the latest in Tupperware, perfectly dissected rock melons and Oxford Street fashions. There was certainly no room for the commoner on this island.
Soon followed the matching of shoes, belts and bags- a skill few possess. Kitten-healed pointy shoes replaced Birkenstock’s and her hair grew into a shiny, sweetly scented cascade. Long and dangling earrings confirmed the physical transformation from once “grungy-actor” type, to something quite special.
The mind of the princess was also in fast development. No longer did our Bec say things such as “Huh?” and “Nup”, but “Excuse me,” “Rather” and “No, I don’t think so” replaced her old vocabulary, her finger touching just below the mouth whenever she asked a question. Her favourite topics of conversation no longer surrounded DoCS, SUDS and puppetry, but clothes, accessories, poetry and rainbows replaced her former interests. Her hands moved with a quiet gracefulness as she waved goodbye at the end of each day, and her walk was like watching the clouds move by on an otherwise sunny day.
The final stage of the transformation involved Bec’s soul. While we have always known our Bec to have a good heart and soul, she started bringing lost children to the clinic (though these may have been some of her actor friends) and praying for everyone to pass Dr L's exam. She was indeed a reverent and peaceful person!
One day, Bec asked her sponsor and mentor Helen, “Have I become the princess I have always longed to be?” Helen just sighed and, gently placing a hand on Bec’s fashionable arm said, “Yes, Bec, you are indeed the princess you have always longed to be,” and after pausing in quiet reflection added, “you always were.”
That night, after attending an “Anti-Kath & Kim” rally, Bec went back to the College for Princesses to claim her certificate of graduation. And as an entire room of apprentice princesses looked on in awe, Bec accepted her certificate. She wanted to savour the moment, for she could finally say what she had been destined to say all along. She opened her glossed lips to speak, and in the silence she declared, “My name is Bec, and I AM a Princess!”
~The End~
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