Relax harder again

Relax harder again

It’s back to this I think. I saw a biofeedback therapist, who is going to “hook me up” when she gets back from her vacation next month. My understanding is that biodfeedback will train me to relax my jaw, by monitoring what it is my muscles and joints are actually doing.

It’s my only hope, Obi Wan. Or my last hope, or whatever.

I sense that I will be expected to actually participate in my own healing. Like she’s going to tell me to spend 20 minutes twice a day relaxing. Who’s got time for that? I hate being told to relax.

All day I’m thinking my shoulders are too hunched and my neck is pitched forward, which stresses the jaw, as it turns out.

4 bruthas

Oh, and John Singleton, don’t think I’m going to let you get away with that piece of crap you call a movie. How is it that the director of Boyz in the Hood and an actor (Marky Mark) who, like, actually was a street thug managed to make a movie that looked like no one involved knew the slightest thing about gangstas? It was like watching a film school project by frat boys playing at being gangstas.

Film experience enhanced by white dudes sitting in front of us (with an empty seat between them, what’s up with that? Homophobic or something?) who, disturbingly, found several scenes hi-larious. And the ladies behind us who gasped when a character we knew was bad shot another character we knew was good, after we’d already watched very many people meet bloody, untimely ends. And a crying baby (in the theater, not getting shot).

Which reminds me. I had to fill out a questionnaire for biofeedback lady where I marked on a scale how much anger I feel. “What’s the anger about?” she asked.

Stupid people, I told her. Not very Zen, I know.

Published by Kari Neumeyer

Writer, editor, dog mom, ovarian cancer survivor

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