::YOGCHICK::

I Hope This Is True

2012-01-27T22:11:00.002-06:00

I Feel Much Better Now

2012-01-19T21:59:00.001-06:00

On Tuesday, I had my first actual EMDR session with a therapist downtown. It was not our first meeting. I had met her my previous week and intended to only tell her about specific issues I am working on now -- namely, having reoccurring painful memories about the first time I flunked out of student-teaching in graduate school. For some reason this first experience suddenly feels as vivid and sharp as if it happened last week. Maybe it’s because I’m now working as an online tutor? And yet, I don’t have problems dealing with the second and third times I flunked out of student-teaching. Strange.

Anyway, I started to tell her about it, but then found myself telling her my whole life story in about 30 minutes. It was a rather stream of consciousness rambling, but I felt oddly calm explaining it all (probably because I’ve already had to explain my life story to so many previous therapists). She basically got the Sparknotes version of my life.

She was writing furiously in her notebook as I spoke and nodded her head throughout, as if already familiar with these kinds of testimonies. This reassured me – she’d seen and heard a lot. And was experienced.

The EMDR session went as planned. I closed my eyes and she tapped my knees back and forth with her fingers as I silently recalled the experience in my mind of my mother beating me when I was six because I didn’t understand my homework. Occasionally she would pause and ask me what I was thinking.

I’m defective. Born this way. Made this way. Not sure.

Then she would go back to tapping my knees and I would go back to recalling the experience in my mind. What are you thinking?

Dystopia. Change is happening too fast. Ron Paul is not the answer.

What are you thinking?

Endless competition. Endless consumption. The planet cannot sustain.

What are you thinking?

Suicide. South Korea has the second highest suicide rate in the world. The U.S. is only 49^th.

What are you thinking?

We’re all too smart for our own good. Athletes are the fastest they’ve ever been.

What are you thinking?

Shame. Guilt. The United States. China. Korea.

And so on.

Exactly.

2012-01-18T19:17:00.002-06:00

Rent This DVD: Win WIn

2012-01-18T00:30:00.000-06:00

You pretty much can’t lose with Paul Giamatti. If he’s in it, it’s good. And he knows how to pick ‘em. Case in point: Win Win, a story about ordinary people with everyday challenges and familiar shortcomings, all caught up in a predicament of honorable and not-so-honorable intentions. There really needs to be more movies like this. Regular folks finding themselves resorting to all sorts of actions and rationalizations in a neverending recession. When all is said and done, whatever judgments you may have had fall to the wayside.

I Think I Found a Way to Survive

2012-01-17T11:48:00.002-06:00

For now anyway.

Wake up feeling grateful you had an interesting dream you can still remember, which is happening more and more lately. Analyze it a bit.

Eat breakfast.

Be discerning about what you watch on tv and read on the internet. Stay away from the negative – which is practically everything on tv. Irony-saturated programs like 30 ROCK and IT’S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA are soul destroying enough. And you don’t have to be so informed about what’s happening in the news – again, it’s always negative and disturbing. There’s not much you can do about the fact that the world is in a shithole, so knowing exactly how and why is pointless.

Stop Googling former friends and enemies. Seeing how well they are doing in their interesting, fulfilling careers is the last thing you need. Cruel, selfish, spiritually and morally bankrupt people do well in life all the time. This is something you were supposed to get over in high school.

Return to Bally’s. You’re back up to 103.5. Losing weight was the only area of success in your life in 2011, so don’t fuck this up.

Find a smaller, cheaper apartment in 2012. This will cut money woes in half. This cannot be stressed enough.

Stick to your work schedule. Always start work at 5 p.m. and don’t log off until midnight.

Take a Seroquel at night without fail. Maintain good sleep hygiene. You should be asleep by 1 a.m. and awake by 10 a.m.

Medication: gradually increase Lamictal – but by how much? Do you really want to go back to being a hardened, callous, non-reflective individual who is hardly in touch with her feminine or spiritual side? Possibly. Life was so much easier that way and, frankly, you were much more high-functioning and less depressed. For the first time in your life, you were like everyone else.

Close Call

2012-01-17T11:19:00.000-06:00

So much for Hector, the fellow I met on OKCupid who was going to take me to his yoga/meditation class. He has a girlfriend. How do I know this? Because she texted me and called me, explaining that Hector has Hepatitis C and is sneaking behind her back and blah blah blah. She’d been investigating, snooping on his computer, etc. She wasn’t angry or accusatory at all – just explained the situation. I assured her that nothing untoward happened. Then I texted her:

Thanks for the heads up. I have no intention of seeing Hector. Be well.

Amy (that’s her name) replied:

I confronted him and he came clean. U weren’t the only one he was seeing/trying to see. It’s hard bc he has good qualities – that’s what ropes you in. Even if ur intentions are good, his r not and that’s impossible to detect for a long time. The truth is setting me free. Thank u very much. Wish u the best too.

Poor girl.

Looking Good George!

2012-01-13T21:21:00.001-06:00

Pretty Much How I Feel About the World Right Now

2012-01-12T21:45:00.001-06:00

Global Warming Denial

2012-01-10T20:45:00.001-06:00

Back in the 80s when I was a college student who, on at least one occasion, wore a pink Day-Glo shirt paired with acid washed jeans to a fraternity party, I enrolled in Psychology 101 for science credit. It was a fun, easy A class where we learned about penis envy, the subconscious, anal retentiveness, projection, and the whole Super Ego/Id dichotomy.

What I remember most was a film we watched about the media campaign started by the government and the American Lung Association to educate the public about the dangers of smoking. This was in the early 70s when the medical establishment had finally come to the rather obvious conclusion that cigarettes kill. The earliest public service announcements were graphic and disturbing, showing the blackened lungs of lifelong smokers and interviewing people on respirators gasping for air.

It was pretty blunt information that one would think would have been very effective. But what the government and the ALA soon found out was that smokers, rather than being frightened into abstinence, had a very different reaction. They simply tuned out and dismissed the public service announcements. If they didn’t simply hit the remote to escape the horrifying images, they outright denied what they were seeing and rationalized that the images were somehow not real. They just waved it off.

Crazy, but that’s the power of denial for you. If something’s so disturbing and you don’t want to know, then you will yourself into disbelief. So I can’t help but wonder if global warming deniers are doing the same thing. Few things could be as disturbing as finding out our very lifestyle is causing catastrophic, irreversible damage to the planet. The mind starts to search desperately for whatever pathetic rationalization it can find to disprove it.

Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know

2012-01-07T16:46:00.001-06:00

xxxx

The Global Era

2012-01-05T22:00:00.003-06:00

Back in the 90s when I was in my 20s and living on my own for the first time, it dawned on me that the world was having a nervous breakdown. This became apparent by what I was seeing in the work place, what I saw on television, and what I was going through in my personal life. This was fascinating to me. Over time, I got used to this reality and eventually became desensitized to it.

Well, I’m no longer desensitized to it. I feel like I’m viewing things with fresh eyes all over again. So what do I do with this new perception? I don’t know.

The one thing that strikes me is that we are an incredibly intelligent yet fucked up species. It’s almost like our intelligence is both our greatest gift and greatest curse. Our imaginations and memories are particularly problematic – if we could only stop thinking about a better world and be happy with what we have, maybe we wouldn’t have gotten into the mess we’re in.

Of course, this is nonsense as well. I mean, science is a wondrous thing and nobody wants to go back to being a serf. It’s just that changes in the last 500 years have happened so rapidly and, as Dr. Andrew Weil has pointed out, human evolution hasn’t had a chance to catch up. Our brains just aren’t hard-wired for the kind of impersonal, isolated, selfish lifestyles we’ve created. So we need to start dealing with that.

We are already out of the Postmodern Era and into the Era of Globalism. One world ready or not. If there are martians observing us from above (as I’m sure is very possible), they are observing with total horror and fascination, disgust and admiration. Probably having second thoughts about invading our planet for its natural resources.

Darwinism

2012-01-05T21:04:00.001-06:00

Today as I walked through the Starbucks parking lot on my way to group therapy, I passed a Toyota with one of those Darwin fish-with-legs icons on the bumper. So I left a note:

"I'm a secular humanist too. But we took morality out of the school system because it sounded too much like religion. So now all we have is Darwinism. Survival of the fittest on the playground. Hence all the bullying."

This is a pretty close paraphrasing of Charles St. Michael, whose Youtube clip I posted late last year. Thanks Chuckie!

George Michael Update

2012-01-05T01:51:00.002-06:00

This post is better late than never. I'm just so glad he's home now for the holidays. Love you George!

Cautiously Optimistic

2012-01-04T22:03:00.000-06:00

I’ve been off of Lamictal since December 22 of last year and this is the first time in years that I have not been on any kind of antidepressant or mood stabilizer. I feel fine. Now anyway. I’ve had some pretty despairing days, however, that were pretty scary and have given me pause. I see my shrink on January 11 and that’s when I’ll get a low dose of prescription for Lamictal and starting building up again.

The question is: how much do I want to start building up? I’m hesitant about not being on any medication at all because the next few months will be stressful and unpredictable … but I’ve also become very aware of certain things since being off of meds. I’m thinking in a way I haven’t done in years and I also feel a gentle urge to become more spiritual. These are not bad things and I don’t want to interrupt this process by going on massive doses of psychotropic drugs again. There needs to be some kind of balance.

I remember reading an article online not too long ago that one thing therapists are noticing is that patients on antidepressants are less likely to truly resolve their issues than patients who are not on any medications at all. Of course, these are people only suffering from depression, not bipolar disorder … and there could be ideological biases at play as well. But the article made a lot of sense. Suffering, when handled properly, can lead to greater self-awareness and improved enlightenment.

So I need to kind of change things up a bit. Take it to the next level. I’m very fearful of the coming months so I have to proceed carefully. But I’m being cautiously optimistic. I mean, what choice do I have?

I met a nice guy on OkCupid. Hector. We’ve been exchanging emails and I’m going to meet him next Tuesday for tea and a yoga/meditation class. I feel like we’ve crossed paths for a reason. For example, he’ll probably be starting graduate school soon to become a high school guidance counselor and is worried about all the papers he’ll have to write. Punctuation and grammar and all that. Well, I could totally help him there.

I’ve been listening to this Christian network instead of watching CNN (because the Republican Iowa caucus is truly depressing). It’s not bad. There’s stuff I don’t agree with and stuff that doesn’t ring true to me, etc. But it’s not harsh or judgmental or simplistic either. A lot of it is very emotionally intelligent and everybody has their heart in the right place. They just want to make the world better and do what’s right.

My Problem with 12 Step Groups

2011-12-29T00:13:00.005-06:00

I know I’m in a co-dependent relationship with my father and that sooner or later, something’s got to give. The logical thing to do would be to head on over to the nearest Codependent Anonymous 12-Step program and find a sponsor and start doing the steps.

But I would rather eat glass.

Years ago, when I was seeing Dr. Archana Lal Tabak, I started attending Debtors Anonymous meetings on Magnolia Street. Dr. Tabak had nothing but the most glowing things to say about this group, which her husband, she claimed, attended. She told me that it was one of the largest 12-step groups in the city (a testament, apparently, to its success) and had a lot of women members. She said a lot of her other patients were going there at her suggestion. She was a firm believer in 12-step groups and regularly attended many herself.

So for three months during the entire summer I went every Thursday afternoon to the Debtor’s Anonymous meetings on Magnolia Street. And I found the entire experience demoralizing and negative and unhealthy.

The first thing I noticed was that there was this strange sort of social competition going on. It was palpable. As soon as the meetings were over, everyone would leap from their chairs and frantically start hugging each other as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. People would run across the room, arms outstretched, toward some other member who had given a particularly moving testimony. The room would become aflutter with all this manic, jubilant chatter as everyone raced around hugging as many people as they could. It was all very exaggerated.

This was when I would feel incredibly lonely. I just felt so alone. I’m a pretty introverted person myself so running up to strangers and hugging them was never going to be a natural act. What is more, nobody ever approached me and welcomed me to the group or had anything to say to me. I was eventually to figure out why.

There were many young women there my age as Dr. Tabak promised, but I found them standoffish and cliquey. This one clique of young women was basically being lead by this blonde woman who worked in the human resources department of a publishing company. Or something like that. Her name was Karen and as far as I could tell, she didn’t even really have money problems. One day she gave her testimony about how she realized she had money issues when she refused to pay her landlord rent because her landlord wasn’t making certain repairs that she had requested. Next thing she knew, she was standing before a judge, who ordered her to pay the rent. That was it. She had a minor epiphany and changed her ways. She didn’t have credit card debt or a compulsive spending problem. Just some unresolved anger issues. I’ve often wondered if she joined Debtors Anonymous just so she could become the leader of her own clique, just like in high school. She struck me as someone who didn't otherwise have any friends but who wanted a group of loyalists she could control.

There was another young woman in the group, a working class girl who was kind of rough around the edges. She was a singer and looked just like Janis Joplin. She was a recovering drug addict and was living in some kind of assisted living facility. The other women kind of looked down on her and on more than one occasion I saw Karen make a disparaging remark toward her and laugh it off.

Karen didn’t like me. I think she could tell right away I wasn’t the type who would give her my fealty like the others, so she did what any self-respecting Queen Bee would do in such a situation – she excluded me outright. She literally told me to go off and socialize with Janis Joplin, at one point pushing me towards her and saying, “Off you two go! You’re perfect for each other.” Then rolling of the eyes and some more laughing.

So yeah, there was social bullshit like that. But what was most disturbing was this strange dynamic that had taken over the whole meeting and permeated everything. The dynamic was: Those most in touch with their Higher Power prosper.

This is hardly anything new. Christians (Protestant, Calvinist) Christians have taught and sometimes still teach prosperity gospel and claim that God rewards the most pious with wealth. Televangelist Joel Osteen preaches this. Back in the day, they would ask: How do you know if someone is of the Elect? Because he prospers.

It was the same kind of thinking at this Debtors Anonymous group. If it was your turn to speak and you talked about getting promoted at your job or getting a better than expected Christmas bonus, you were suddenly the most popular guy in the room, a veritable rock star, and everybody would practically climb over each to give you a hug at the end of the meeting and get your telephone number. Abundance! Abundance! Conversely, if you had fallen on hard times and gotten laid off or had an unexpected auto repair bill that was straining your budget, you became a pariah and nobody would approach you or hug you at the end of the meeting. It was that predictable and stark. You were only welcome so long as you were in touch with your Higher Power and this was directly evidenced by your financial success.

I saw this over and over again. When I first started attending the meetings, one of the young women in Karen’s clique, Wendy, shared good news with the group that she had gotten a raise as a saleswoman at a high-end retail store. Sure enough, everybody couldn’t wait to give her a hug and get her phone number. She was super popular and everybody clearly wanted some of her mojo. But then, two months later, she was laid off and after sharing that piece of information with the group, not one single person approached her at the end of the meeting. Nobody wanted anything to do with her. I watched her closely and saw her sit forlornly in her seat for about a minute as everybody else chatted and hugged animatedly with each other only a few feet away. Finally, she got up and quietly left the room. She knew what the social rules were and wasn’t going to bother sticking around. Even Karen, who was supposed to be her friend, didn’t approach her. She was a pariah.

I tried explaining my observations to Dr. Tabak, but she would have none of it and kept insisting that those people were “spiritually advanced” and that I wasn’t interpreting things correctly. And as far as her husband was concerned, I only saw him attend the meeting once during that entire summer. And because he had the same kind of idealistic naivete as his wife and wasn’t terribly perceptive or intuitive, I highly doubt he ever picked up on the social dynamics of the room. To him, it probably looked like a wonderful social gathering of highly animated people getting in touch with their Higher Power. Because that’s what it looked like on the surface.

But really, it was the opposite. A lot of misguided pseudo-spirituality mixed in with a socially competitive atmosphere that was hardly supportive. Since there was no authority figure facilitating the room (as you would have in a drug rehab program or mental health clinic), everyone was left to govern themselves … with disastrous results.

Plus, there were other problems. A lot of the young men were there to pick up chicks. Seriously. They must have heard from their other guy friends that a lot of young women were at the Thursday afternoon Magnolia Street group. The few times a guy would approach me and talk to me, I’d notice right away that he’d be blatantly checking out my body while I talked about my credit card debt. Another time, a distraught young man came to the meeting sounding positively suicidal because he’d made a series of bad financial decisions which resulted in his wife threatening to leave him. “I’m in a lot of trouble,” he lamented with a heavy sigh. Then he looked up and stared at me from across the room. And I knew instantly that he was already thinking of having an affair with me. All I had to do was say yes and it would have happened like that. Because he was so lost and vulnerable and wanting for some kind of escape into the arms of another woman.

I should add here that during that summer, I invited an acquaintance of mine to join me at the meetings. His name was Tad and he was a homeless fellow I’d befriended while volunteering at an animal shelter. He had become an alcoholic when he was a teenager but had maintained sobriety by regularly attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings ever since. So he was quite familiar with how 12-step programs work, having been going to them for well over 15 years. I stopped going to the D.A meetings by the end of the summer because I was totally fed up with what I was seeing, but he continued. Months later, I was to run into him and when I asked him how it was going over there, he responded vaguely that he was still attending.

“Are they nice to you over there?” I asked.

“No, not really.” he replied matter-of-factly.

This didn’t surprise me. I saw how cold those people could be toward Wendy for simply getting laid off from a job, so I can only imagine how they would treat a homeless person. He would definitely be at the very bottom of the hierarchical wrung, a pariah for not being in God’s favor.

Besides, Tad had told me about some of his experiences with Alcoholics Anonymous over the years. He said he’d basically decided a long time ago that he wouldn’t try to make friends with people in 12 Step groups. He’d just learned over and over again from personal experience that it wouldn’t be a good idea. For example, when he was much younger, maybe in his early 20s, someone in the 12-Step group who was older preyed upon him. This older man, who was a photographer, was also gay and sensed that Tad hungered for some sort of father figure and was very lonely. Maybe he heard him talk about how he never knew his father, that his father abandoned him when he was a mere infant. Anyway, he reached out to Tad and became his “friend” – possibly even his sponsor? It wasn’t long before this older gay man was inviting Tad over to his studio to pose naked for these homoerotic photo sessions. Tad went along with it because he was so hungry for some kind of love and attention from a father figure and was easy to manipulate, being as young as he was. He was emotionally vulnerable and the guy totally took advantage of that. Year later, he would demand to have the negatives back. The guy handed them over and that was that.

And I’ve heard so many other fucked up stories like that. In the 90s, my co-worker’s best friend became a cocaine addict and got clean by going to Cocaine Anonymous. It totally worked for her and saved her life. I’m sure to this day she’s still clean and sober. But while all this was going on, she was working as a stripper at night to pay for school to become some kind of medical technician. So it goes without saying that she had a killer bod and huge tits. This also meant that she was wildly popular amongst all the men who, at the end of the meetings, would all rush up to her and say “Thank you for sharing. Thank you for sharing.” Then they would try to hug her tight so they could feel her tits against their chests. It was so obvious. Oh, and eventually she would go on to have an affair with a married real estate tycoon in that same group.

One of my dad’s former secretaries was a recovered alcoholic. Her husband was recovered as well. They’d been sober for a long time and she told me about going to 12 step meetings and all the bullshit that went on. For example, whoever is sober the longest is considered the most respectable and so on down. But it doesn’t really matter what kind of person you really are. You can be the biggest asshole in the world but if you’ve been sober the longest, you get the most respect no matter what.

I just don’t see these 12-Step Groups as having any real integrity. I’m very wary. When I did go to those meetings, I wasn’t hearing anything terribly meaningful or profound or enlightening. I kept listening for it and listening for it. I’d found much more meaningful, spiritual discussions on OPRAH and in my creative writing classes.

The one thing I like so much about the women’s support group at the City Clinic is that there’s always a facilitator in the room. An authority figure. A professional, licensed therapist who keeps everybody honest and in check. She may not even say hardly anything at all, but her presence alone will keep things kosher.

The Bipolar Support Group I go to once a month is also pretty good. There’s no facilitator there, so I don’t quite understand why the meetings don’t disintegrate into total bullshit like with some 12 Step Groups. Maybe it’s because there’s no pretense to spirituality and the approach is practical and grounded?

But I need to change. These things I’ve been doing – the therapy, the women’s group, the medications – it’s not enough anymore and I have to figure something out. I’ve been thinking a lot about spirituality lately and now I think I should start going to church, even though Christianity never did much for me before. It’s just that two of the soldiers from BLACK HAWK DOWN, Sargent Jeff Struecker and Ranger Keni Thomas, are real-life Christians of admirable character and positive outlooks in life. It’s not surprising that the former is now an ordained minister and the latter a motivational speaker. And unlike televangelist Joel Osteen, they’ve been truly tested and can speak from real experiences. They know what fear and uncertainty is.

But what I like most about these two is that neither of them seem to have a Messiah complex. They’re not out to be spiritual rock stars. They’re humble.

Worst Christmas Ever

2011-12-28T15:25:00.002-06:00

This hasn’t been the best holiday season. Earlier this month, my shrink increased the dosage to one of my antidepressants because I had to go off a mood stabilizer that was making me have involuntary facials tics. Apparently, increasing the strength of the antidepressant Lamictal can make it also serve as a mood stabilizer. This was in early December that we made this change.

I was going from 100 mg to 200 mg of Lamictal per day. I could have sworn my shrink said take two tablets of 100 mgs each at night. I didn’t bother looking at the bottle so I didn’t see that each pill was already 200 mg and that by taking two at a time, I was taking a dangerously high amount of 400 mg.

This went on for a couple weeks. I felt fine and didn’t notice anything wrong. Then, I went to a seafood buffet restaurant with my father. After eating an oyster, my face felt all itchy and irritated so I went to the women’s room. I looked in the mirror and saw that my face was starting to break out with these funny bumps on my chin, cheek, and forehead.

I attributed the breakout to the oyster and immediately came to the conclusion that I was having an allergic reaction. Lots of people have allergies to shellfish and I assumed that I was now one of them.

Days went by and the irritation subsided. I just made sure never to scratch my face. I almost forgot about it, but then the irritation came back with a vengeance and my face was so itchy one night, I couldn’t even get any sleep. The following day, the itching was gone, but my face felt hot and irritated – as if it were sunburned. I made an appointment with a dermatologist, convinced I had rosacea.

That same day, I went to the pharmacy to pick up my new prescription. The pharmacist told me I wouldn’t be able to pick up any more Lamictal until January 7 because I’d already used up my quota. I was totally confused and after some discussion, we realized that this whole time I’d been double-dosing. So that explains the facial irritation. I was lucky that’s all it was.

To make a long story short, that night I went to the emergency room and explained to them that I’d been unknowingly overdosing on Lamictal for at least two weeks. They took an EKG, blood test, urine test, etc. It was all very speedy and efficient and the next thing I knew, they were sending me home with a prescription for Prednisone and Famotidine.

This was on the 22^nd of December. Since then, I haven’t been on anything except for a low dose of Wellbutrin to help me quit smoking and Seroquel to fall asleep. No mood stabilizer. No antidepressant. This is the least medicated I’ve been in years.

Christmas was horrible. I was supposed to spend it with my father at his house, but being there depressed me so much because of all the memories associated with that house. After two and a half days, I fled and went back to my apartment. This was on Christmas.

I’ve been hibernating ever since. My face is back to normal now, but I feel such despair and hopelessness about my future. I’m scared shitless. I’m angry at myself for all the foolish choices I’ve made. Or else I’m ashamed of myself for all the hurtful things I’ve done. I don’t have any faith in myself and feel this intense rage at people who have either hurt me, let me down, or betrayed me. I feel such harsh judgment upon myself and others for our shortcomings. The condemnation is unbearable.

All these thoughts are going around and around in my head and I can’t stop it. And while all this is going on, I have tremendous anxiety about my finances. As always, I’m having financial difficulties. I have absolutely no idea how I’ll pay the bills next month.

Tonight, my friend Diana is coming over to watch some movies. So maybe that will help. I try to be hopeful but it doesn’t ever seem to help when I turn to my female friends for solace. We all just seem so hopelessly fucked up. It’s depressing. On CNN a couple weeks ago, some talking head divulged that in America, one in four women is on some kind of antidepressant or anti-anxiety medication. But only one in seven men is on the same. Almost half as many.

NOTE: Just got a text message from Diana. She cannot come over because – surprise surprise – she’s not feeling up to it. Whatever.

Anyway, I already talked about why women are so much more fucked up than men and how it has to do with the way we’ve been raised. There’s plenty of research on this. It's well documented. It's even demonstrated in my recent entry about my teaching experiences at an all-girls Catholic school. Little girls get babied too much by their parents and don’t learn to take action and solve their own problems. Little boys are treated differently and learn very early to control their environment and stop whining. That’s it in a nutshell. It’s really that simple and that destructive.

I hate how even though I understand everything very well, I still cannot solve my problems.

Hottie of the Week: Clark Gable

2011-12-27T18:37:00.009-06:00

This Is What I Want To Happen

2011-12-22T20:21:00.008-06:00

Back when I was in graduate school studying to become an English teacher, I had to go through 8 weeks of student teaching at a school. Basically this is where you take over a teacher’s duties and teach all of her classes. Eventually I would have to student teach three separate times at three different schools because I kept failing at student teaching. Seriously!

But anyway, the very first time I had to student teach, that was in some ways the most traumatic. It was at an all-girls Catholic school in one of the southwest suburbs of the city. Immaculate Heart of Whatever. I was actually thrilled to be going there because in those days I had it in my mind that Catholics were inherently more kind and charitable than all those Calvinist Protestants. I had visions of beatific nuns and cheerful teenagers in plaid skirts holding hands and dancing in a circle.

Also, I was tutoring at a Chicago public high school Writing Lab that was run by this youngish teacher who told me that she was once a substitute teacher there. What a coincidence! I asked her what the school was like and she smiled and said, “It’s the kind of place to send your daughter if you don’t want her to grow up too fast.” I took this as positive sign. It pretty much reinforced my vision of beatific nuns and cheerful teenagers in plaid skirts holding hands and dancing in a circle.

But it didn't quite work out that way. To make a long story short, I flunked out of student teaching the first time for the following reasons (I don’t pretend this is a complete list):

Working class white girls really don’t appreciate being taught by an Asian-American who, it can be fairly ascertained, grew up in one of those nicer suburbs amongst upper middle-class white people.

Working class white girls with learning disabilities tend to end up in private Catholic schools because their parents know that those kinds of schools will let them graduate no matter what so long as the tuition is paid on time. (The unappetizing alternative is to have them go to public school where they will be either held back or, more frighteningly, be placed in lower ability classes with blacks and Latinos.)

Working class white girls, many of whom have learning disabilities, are lumped in with medium-ability black girls and a small minority of higher ability white girls. This makes teaching all of them at the same time quite interesting.

When someone describes a school as “the kind of school you send your daughter to if you don’t want her to grow up too fast,” they apparently mean that the school passes everyone no matter what, has no learning disability department, and never teaches their students how to write a five paragraph essay. This also means they don’t really assign much homework.

When a private Catholic girls school is going bankrupt and knows this is their last semester, the teachers generally don’t want a student teacher taking over their classroom. In fact, they may even try to get rid of you by insisting you do the impossible such as assigning to the students a 5-paragraph comparison contrast essay when none of the students have ever done any writing whatsoever before.

When you tell a classroom of working class girls (many of whom don’t like you already because they can sniff out your middle-class roots) that they have to write a 5 paragraph comparison contrast essay even though they’ve never done any writing whatsoever, they will want to kill you.

When you read 90 poorly written comparison contrast essays, you have no choice but to dish out a lot of bad grades.

When you dish out a lot of bad grades, it makes you even less popular than you were before and suddenly you find yourself teaching students who refuse to do the readings, finish their homework, or even write their names on tests and quizzes. It goes without saying they won’t listen to a word you say and will talk loudly amongst each other.

Once students learn that their school is going to close in 3 months, they no longer care about anything anymore and challenge teachers in every possible way. Whatever you say and do is met with the response, “You can’t boss me around. This school is closing anyway.” This is especially true if you are a student teacher who has no real authority to dish out sanctions.

Once it is established that you can no longer control a classroom, the cooperating teacher whose class it is you are trying to teach has the perfect excuse to give you a C, which is tantamount to flunking. This is especially true if she is an older teacher and you are much younger and she wants you out of there anyways because school is closing soon and she wants the classes all to herself.

Once it is apparent to the students that you are getting a C, they will spend the last week of your student teaching tenure laughing at you, giving each other high fives, and generally causing mischief. After all, you are the horrible person who assigned them a five paragraph comparison contrast essay when they’d never had to do any writing before. It’s all your fault that you followed the cooperating teacher’s orders. The black girls and higher ability white girls seem to feel sorry for you, but the working class white girls (who are by far the majority) won’t stop smirking gleefully as you try one last time to teach them Harlem Renaissance poetry.

So to all the working class white girls who laughed at me and caused all this mischief, here is some advice:

1. During these difficult times, you are probably finding it hard to get any kind of job at all. If you are lucky, you’re working at McDonalds or Starbucks. If so, stay there. There is absolutely nothing else out there for you. Trust me. There are people with Master’s degrees shelving merchandise at Target. That’s just the way it is right now.

2. If you are not already living with your parents, do so. Stop trying to be independent and living with your girlfriends. Just bite the bullet and move back in with your parents (assuming they will have you). This will save you a lot of money.

3. With the money you save by moving back into your childhood bedroom with the pink wallpaper and Justin Timberlake posters, try to get some kind of additional education. No, not a university silly (let’s be real here, you got a 14 on your ACTs). Enroll at the nearest community college. After only two years, you will get some kind of vague “Associates” degree. This way, you don’t look like a total dumb shit.

4. While all this is going on, expend all your energy finding a husband. I would not recommend getting pregnant “on accident” because that strategy doesn’t work as well as it once did. Guys just don’t put up with that bullshit any longer. Just find a nice, bland guy who listens to Nickelback and drives a car that’s less than 7 years old. I recommend going after police officers, firemen, and construction workers. They’re the easiest.

5. As soon as you’re married, get pregnant. This cannot be stressed enough. Get pregnant right away. Throw out those birth control pills and lie that you’re still taking them. Or use a pin to poke a hole in your diaphragm. No Morning After pill for you!

6. Okay, so you’ve given birth. You’re almost done! You’re a first-time mother just learning the ropes so, understandably, you can’t return to work for a while. Changing diapers and breastfeeding are all so complex and laborious, and daycare costs more than what you’d make at your minimum wage job anyway.

7. Once your first-born is 2 years old, get pregnant yet again. This pretty much seals the deal. Now that you have two kids to watch, how can you possibly go back to work? Your husband is now stuck to work his ass off while you chauffeur the kids around for the next 18 years.

8. Once your kids are older and your husband finally insists you pull your own weight, your first instinct may be to find a white-collar job in an office. This won’t be as easy as you think because you are now middle-aged and secretaries are not what they used to be or what you saw on television. Secretaries are now called Administrative Assistants and that’s a whole new animal. This new breed of secretary is often a twentysomething who has a four year college degree and views the position as a stepping stone in their fledging career. Also, the Administrative Assistant may be a man. Not even a gay man. These people are all younger than you, faster than you, and better looking than you.

9. But don’t despair because there is always McDonalds. You’ve worked there before and this is a major plus. You’ll continue where you left off: flipping burgers and working the drive-thru with Latino adolescents. Don’t whine about this because what you call degrading, your grandparents would call “opportunity.” And they would be right. After six months of hard labor, you’ll get promoted to crew chief and, after that, with more loyal service, you can become an Assistant Manager. The rest is up to you. And you’ll be thrilled because for the first time in your life you’re not making an hourly minimum wage, you’ll be on salary.

There, not too hard is it? This is the most viable option for you. Best of luck!

To Every Kid Who Is Being Bullied

2011-12-22T18:08:00.002-06:00

xxxx

No, I Am Not Going to Do Your Fucking Yoga

2011-12-21T22:54:00.000-06:00

And do you know why? Because I don’t want to be totally relaxed. I want to be ready for the next hit. There is nothing worse than being totally relaxed and then have something shocking and/or violent and/or horrible happen. That’s the thing to avoid. It’s much better to be “on alert” and ready so that when something shocking and/or violent and/or horrible happens, you’re not too surprised and therefore totally traumatized.

That’s the way it works. So all you meditation people, please just go away. You don’t know what’s best for me.

5 Random Thoughts

2011-12-21T17:53:00.001-06:00

1. Next month, I’m going to start EMDR therapy. My previous therapist recommended it and now my current therapist, Heather, recommends it. So I’m finally going. EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, which is recommended for “clients who find it difficult to step away from highly charged experiences, remaining so entwined with their feelings they are unable to look at the event with detachment.” Well, that’s pretty much me with a T. I have a hard time visualizing exactly what this entails, but it involves stimulating the hemispheres of the brain to re-establish some kind of balance and allow “frozen” information to be processed and integrated. Sometimes the treatment involves rhythmic eye movement, but newer versions use sound devices. Whatever. Couldn’t hurt.

2. So North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il is finally dead. I texted this bit of information to my father the other day and, oddly enough, he didn’t bother to respond. So his successor, Kim Jong Un, his son, is taking over. Initially I was hopeful about this because he spent most of his childhood being educated in these elite Swiss boarding schools. So that would mean that he’s westernized and forward-thinking, right? You know, probably has an iPad and all that. But no, word has it that he’s a lot like his father, only more aggressive and competitive. Sigh.

3. My niece, Christine, is so sweet and funny. She just completed her first semester at the University of Illinois. She speaks perfect English because when she was a teenager, she took part in a student exchange program wherein she lived with a Canadian family, went to a Canadian high school, and made a bunch of Canadian friends. Total immersion. So her English is perfect. Anyway, a couple weeks ago, before Christmas break started, she was in her dorm room when she smelled something burning. She was convinced a couch was burning so she ran to the resident advisor and told her about it. Well, it turns out it was marijuana and the two students who were smoking it got into trouble. Ooops. Because she’s from South Korea, she didn’t know what marijuana smells like. But it’s all good because the two students only got a slap on the wrist and weren’t mad at her at all.

4. For the past two weeks, I have watched BLACK HAWK DOWN at least 20 times. That’s right: 20 times. At least. Why? Not because I love the ceaseless violence and carnage, but because every single one of the characters has good character. They’re brave and decent men. There’s minimal politics and power plays; everyone’s just concerned with working together and getting the job done. The human race at its most outstanding. Integrity.

5. But I have to be careful. I’m overdosing on testosterone and when you do that, when you do that with anything, the universe has a way of correcting you. So here’s a real heroine. Julia Roberts totally deserved that Oscar. I loved this movie:

Words of Wisdom (Click to Enlarge)

2011-12-21T12:06:00.001-06:00

Hottie of the Week: Keni Thomas

2011-12-20T22:40:00.003-06:00

Open Letter to Adam Levine

2011-12-20T21:06:00.003-06:00

Hi Adam! I just wanted to say that I really like that song “Secret’ and that other song you did with Rihanna. I also liked the song “Moves Like Jagger.”

But that is not why I’m writing this. I’m writing this because I think you are too happy. Way too happy.

Now I know how hard you and your band worked to get to where you are today. Touring, touring … and then even more touring. Opening up for half a dozen heavyweights over the years. All the while writing new songs on motel stationery in the back of tour buses. As Tavis Smiley said, “They all know your glory but not your story.”

But after watching several Youtube clips of you talking about your life on the Ellen Degeneres Show and the Chelsea Lately Show, I cannot help but feel slightly annoyed that the only bad thing to happen to you in the last five years is that you broke your sternum while weight-lifting because you couldn’t be bothered to find someone to spot you.

Now don’t get me wrong. You and your band deserve all the success you’ve reaped. Unlike with most people I know (myself included), hard work paid off.

The problem is this: You keep talking about it. Do we really have to hear about you falling in love with a Victoria’s Secret model? Or that on the weekends you play basketball with Justin Bieber? Or that you're hosting that hit talent show THE VOICE and that any second now you'll segue into an acting career a la Justin Timberlake. Or that you get the best seats to every Lakers game? Or that at some point in your life you read that “spiritual journey” book, EAT, PRAY, LOVE and decided to go to the same acclaimed Naples pizzeria the author wrote about? On the Chelsea Lately Show, you wouldn’t stop extolling its virtues: thin crust with four different kinds of artisanal cheeses and the freshest basil and oregano ever cultivated. Life is so awesome! Yay me!!

I mean, really.

Sincerely,

Yogchick

A Dutchman Explains to Us Americans Why We're So Fucked

2011-12-19T18:02:00.000-06:00

People in The Netherlands have always looked up to the USA. It won't be long before that stops, I guess. These are stories I read, watched and heard in the mainstream media over here:

your political system is one of the most corrupt systems in the world
your politicians represent companies instead of people
your government will probably censor the internet
your government detains without trial
your government tortures people
your government hires mercenaries
your government does nothing to improve education
your president doesn't have any real influence over what happens
your presidential candidates are stupid beyond belief
your presidential candidates promote stupidity
your presidential candidates are not taking seriously over here
your elections are a joke
your media outlets cannot be trusted
your media outlets focus on distractions instead of main issues
your people are fucked when they're uninsured
your infrastructure is collapsing
your economy will soon be top 3 instead of #1
your economy will probably collapse a second time

So it's not only Reddit or The Daily Show that is covering these issues. Other countries are watching and passing the popcorn while your country is collapsing. And I think it will get worse, not better. I am 29 years old and looking back at the world's history I don't think the problems above will be solved during my lifetime. It will probably have to get a lot worse before a movement arises that's big enough to demand real change.

That Stupid Rule

2011-12-16T11:35:00.003-06:00

Dylan: Quincy is cute, so are you.

Yogchick: You're pretty cute too. But I have a strict rule about not dating guys over 5"10. Be well.

For Real?

2011-12-02T12:56:00.004-06:00

Okay, I was on OKCupid the other day and came across the following profile from FULLONRAPIST. That’s right, that’s his username. Wow. Read on …

My self-summary

Dating the internet fucking sucks nards. Okay, fine. Maybe it doesn't completely suck. Maybe. No wait, it totally, totally sucks.So here's the deal, yo. I like blowing my dollars on booze, food and drugs with a hot girl whenever I can. If the girl is hot enough, I might like it if we did the whole relationship thang, but whenever I do meet a girl that I invest my heart and soul (and money!) in, they end up dumping me at their fucking high school friend's wedding in fucking Wisconsin because I'm an "immature man-child who can't keep an adult budget or clean their fucking bedroom." To which I end up being all like, "Fine, you can totally do better than me. Have fun in NY fucking jazz bassists and shit." Then I throw my drink on the graaaauuuunnnd! (I'm an adult.)And then I go try to fuck someone else.Side note: My username is a joke from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I'm not a rapist. No, I'm not into the idea of fulfilling your creepy rape fantasies.

What I’m doing with my life

Being unemployed. Looking for a job. Finding a job. Working. Fucking up at my job. Getting fired. Repeat.Then I get all drunk and stoned about it. It's a fucking shit show.I'm also working on being a lead singer of a shitty rock band so I can yell "GEE-TAH" and then a wailing guitar solo gets played.

I’m really good at

Jerking off to internet porn. Fucking up my life. Burning bridges. Going bat-poo crazy. Thinking up stupid jokes. Screaming absurd shit. Middle fingers.

The first things people usually notice about me

I'm a broke, drunk, stoned loser who has no ambition and can't afford to be in a relationship with a woman. If you don't notice it right away, you will eventually.

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

Actually, I'll just say this. I love awesome shit. If I have a job, I will totally take a girl out as often as I can to awesome places, whether it's awesome psychedelic-punk-metal-electronic-noise-grindcore-instrumental-experimental-dance-hip hop-black metal-trip hop-industrial-country-indie-folk shows in lofts and basements, my favorite michelin starred restaurant, a good brewery, a hipster dive with fancy whiskey drinks, cheap dives with $7 pitchers of old style, 4:00 am bars, MUTHAFUCKEN TACOS! MUTHAFUCKA!, street fests, and lots of other fun fun fun. If you have more money than me and want to do more than I can afford, even if its shit I'm not that into, cover me. I'll try to keep it equal. Let's fucking have fun with this, goddammit.I'll download the fuck out of some movies and TV, but I only watch the good shit.And I can't get passed the first 60 pages of a book.

The six things I could never do without

4:00 am burritos. Your mom. Depression. Solitude. Internet porn. A paperclip. Shitstorms. My middle finger. Ninjas. A knife! Go fuck yourself. I don't need shit!seriously though, grubhub.com

I spend a lot of time thinking about

How the fuck do I make the best of things? (and by things, I mean this pile of shit below)My ex. My fucking ex.

On a typical Friday night I am

Drunk dialing my ex and crying on her voice mail at 3:00 am.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

I'm heartbroken and pining for (and sorta internet stalking. I know, right? It makes me sad too. :\ ) a girl that a month or two ago I was calling a fat asshole and totally destroying everything and anything good we had. I did it because she realized that I'm broke and can't afford her expectations after she moved to NY. She broke my heart when she began demanding that I change my life for her. She demanded that I get a new job, a different phone plan to text and call her more, a camera for my computer so we can Skype, time off from work to go out of town to stupid country club weddings for her friends, buying plane tickets to NY that I didn't use, etc. She made ultimatums that she would leave me if I couldn't meet these things. When I couldn't afford to make all these changes immediately, she became impatient and started questioning my love for her. She told me that I didn't care about her, even after I invested every ounce of effort, all the time I could, 100% of my emotions, and every single fucking dime I had helping her move and sticking with her when she's over 700 miles away from me. I was totally committed to her. She broke up with me. It destroyed me.After that, I lost my shit. I fucked up everything. I called her a shit ton of awful things and had sex out of spite with the first girl who was willing to have a beer with me, just so I could throw it in my ex's face. Maybe I should have begged her to stay with me instead, but I was blinded with rage. I completely unravelled and started fucking up at work to the point that I lost my job over it. I invested so much time in her over the last six months at my old job that I was working about a third less hours than before I met her, so now my unemployment rate is only $500/month. If I don't find work by the end of January, I'm going to become a 34 year old man who lives at home with his mother.The shit kicker is that I gave her cash to buy me a plane ticket to NY (I don't have a bank account) and she won't give me my money back.For the first, and hopefully the last, time since I was a teenager, I actually contemplated killing myself. But then I realized that it's okay to hate her. Fuck her. She sucks. She ruined my life. She was 100% right. I can't afford her, neither financially nor emotionally.It's too late for apologies....Now I'm completely single again. I'm unemployed again. I am a total failure and the only thing I can do about it is get drunk, try to meet someone that makes me forget about my past heartbreaks, get a new job that I can enjoy working at and get my life back to where it used to be. Just so it can spiral out of control again.I'm done spiraling downwards for now though. I really can't go much lower. So now it's time to pick myself up and start getting my shit together.She's the fat asshole: http://www.okcupid.com/profile/petalsandleavesFeel free to ask her for my money.*Well it looks like she disabled her account. Maybe I can find her on here sooner or later if she gets a new account. I mean, how many 26 year old women in Brooklyn are there?*

You should message me if

You're hot and have shit tons of money that I'll mooch from you, giant boobs and low expectations.In all serious though, since my life is in the shitter, you probably don't want to get involved with me, but if you want to help cheer up a decent looking, semi-intelligent, honest, humorous guy who is down on his luck by buying him a cheap beer and maybe making out a little, go for it....or better yet, get me stoned and fed because I'm ramening the shit out of life and alcohol makes me want to drunk dial if I don't end up in your bed. I mean if/when I get a job, I could pay you back with a nice date full of fancy whiskey drinks and delicious MUTHAFUCKEN TACOS! MUTHAFUCKA! We can celebrate.

It's Happening, It's Happening ...

2011-11-28T18:10:00.001-06:00

RICHARD: What are your thoughts on younger men? :)

YOGCHICK: I have absolutely no problem with younger men. Just as long as you're not the kind of twentysomething who is at a crossroads in life and has no idea what he wants and is hitting on me because he wants an older sister type to cry to. I get that a lot.

RICHARD: I want to get some drinks, you to wear that black dress or something sexier, and I want you to show me exactly how your Revlon Colorstay doesn't stain. I know exactly what I want and I am not at any crossroads. I am in town for a few weeks and I am out to have fun.

YOGCHICK: Here’s my number: XXX-XXX-XXXX. Call or text me.

… And so it is: We’re hooking up Thursday night.

Richard

2011-11-27T22:40:00.003-06:00

xxxx

Love You George

2011-11-25T01:27:00.001-06:00

You're In Our Prayers, George Michael

2011-11-24T20:02:00.001-06:00

This doesn’t sound good at all. According to ContactMusic.com:

The 48-year-old singer - who was hospitalised on Monday (21.11.11) in Vienna, Austria - is being treated by medics in a private house in the Austrian capital city and is so far making good progress.

A friend of the singer explained: "He got ill, it's very cold in that part of Europe, and then he got pneumonia. He's responding well to treatment, very good. But he has to rest. He's got to let this illness run its course."

As a result of his illness, George was forced to cancel a number of gigs on his current 'Symphonica Tour', including one in Strasbourg, France, and two planned concerts in Cardiff, Wales, on November 26 and 27.

And then the report goes on to say that last month, he had to pull out of a show at London’s Royal Albert Hall due to “back problems, a viral infection, and high temperature.”

Yeah, I know: We’re all thinking the same thing.

You’re in my prayers, George. This blog was started five years ago largely because of you and if it weren’t for you and your music, I probably wouldn’t have gotten through some of the most difficult years of my life. I love you and wish you the best.

Pride and Sadness

2011-11-24T12:04:00.002-06:00

Occasionally, I go to my other blog and read some of the papers I did in graduate school. When I’m done, I always feel two things: pride and sadness.

Those papers are very well written. The thoughts are complex and articulated clearly with only the choicest, precise words. The observations are astute and the arguments are water-tight. You can see there’s a lot of respect for the reader as each paragraph segues so seamlessly to the next, ensuring nothing gets lost in the translation.

I don’t recognize me as the writer at all. There are words in there of which I can no longer remember the definition. I have to re-read certain paragraphs, unable to follow the train of thoughts I once so handily entertained in my mind.

I can’t think that way anymore. I can’t write that way anymore. A year after I got out of the mental institution, I resumed reading The New Yorker and had to constantly grab a dictionary. I only kept at it because film critic David Denby’s movie reviews were so wonderfully sublime. And when I wrote in my blog, it felt the only thing I was capable of was gay porn about George Michael.

It’s a combination of things: the medications and being older. My mind’s been tamed and just isn’t as agile as it once was. This is mildly devastating because writing was always something I could do, something that felt so natural. I could imitate other writers’ styles with ease after only reading a couple chapters of their best work. And if I read enough academic journals, it was just a matter of getting into the right mode to write academically myself.

It’s the quickness that I miss the most.

Hottie of the Week: Adam Levine

2011-11-23T10:54:00.004-06:00

I Can't Get This Song Out of My Head and I Like It That Way

2011-11-23T10:16:00.000-06:00

xxxx

The Song I'm Really Grooving On Right Now

2011-11-22T18:49:00.000-06:00

xxxx

We Love You Greg Louganis

2011-11-22T15:06:00.001-06:00

xxxx

The Funniest Movie I've Seen in Years

2011-11-22T14:37:00.001-06:00

xxxx

The Last Intelligent Republican

2011-11-22T14:29:00.002-06:00

xxxx

Random Cuteness

2011-11-11T18:25:00.002-06:00

11.11.11

2011-11-11T12:23:00.002-06:00

1. Back when I was in high school, I had a crush on Adam R., this guy in my physical science class. He looked like a classic 50s greaser with strong biceps and broad chest that were well exhibited under his tight t-shirts. He was garden-variety handsome, but handsome nonetheless. This was freshman year when I was a stereotypical Asian geek with coke bottle glasses and an extra 15 pounds. One day, in a momentary lapse of judgment, I called him up and asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Of course, he turned me down, albeit politely. I never spoke to him again until recently, where we’ve hooked up on Facebook and see each other at Brian and Jan’s football parties. He’s separated from his wife now, but seems pretty cheerful about it. Anyway, the other day in an email, he asked me out. Hm.

2. The public aid investigator dropped by yesterday afternoon. She looked about 25-years-old and had the same kind of gentle sweetness as the female therapists at the Clinic where I go. A mere social worker, she asked me a few cursory questions, jotted my answers down on a clipboard, complimented my dog’s cuteness, and left. It took all of seven minutes.

3. For the past three weeks, I’ve been working as an online English tutor for an educational company based in New York City. I also edit and give feedback to college students on their research papers. It was easy getting this job: all I had to do was send them my undergrad and graduate school college transcripts showing that I had a background in education. And I stressed that I was a writing tutor at Depaul University’s Writing Center, as well as at a high school in Chicago. They hired me right away without even requesting a resume. It’s a pleasant enough job and, obviously, I get to work from home and set my own hours. At first, I had mixed feelings about it because being an online tutor for $10 an hour is such a step down from my original plans of being a public school teacher, but then I gave myself a reality check and realized I should be grateful to be getting any kind of job at all in this economy. It’s actually kind of fun; I read college papers about all kinds of subjects and at night help high schools kids with their grammar worksheets and essays.

4. My dog is staying with me temporarily because my father injured his knee after tripping in a restaurant and cannot walk him. I love that I’m home all day now with him curled up nearby, contented. He’s as sweet as ever and doesn’t show his age at all. And he seems to enjoy walking through my neighborhood where we frequently come across other small dogs who want to sniff his butt.

5. It’s 11-11-11 … better known as Nigel Tufnel Day.

Here Here, It's About Time Somebody Took a Stand

2011-11-09T07:40:00.007-06:00

This was recently posted by the moderators of the BipolarReddit Forum over at REDDIT, the social bookmarking site. With their permission, I am reprinting it here:

There might be many ways of treating bipolar disorder. The best result would be that the person affected feel better and have a well functioning life. Even though there are standards, treatment will always be based on a complex set of personal factors - what works for me might not work for you, and vice verse.

On a regular basis we get posts here in r/bipolarreddit about alternative ways of treating bipolar disorder. Some think that we are the new branch of evolution and that medicine only disturbs our natural abilities. Others think that the moderators of the forum are representatives of “big pharma” and that this causes us to block all posts about alternative treatments. Others again feel that everybody should smoke a lot of weed and that this will fix all our problems. After a discussion, the moderators have decided to make a stand against alternative medicine as a treatment for bipolar disorder.

We wish to address suggestions to treatment of bipolar disorder through various supplements that can be defined as alternative medicine. We, the moderators, believe this forum should try to be based around reason, science and facts. If there are activities, food, herbs or other things people believe people can benefit from - we will accept a debate around this as long as these posts can be backed up by science. If yoga helps you - good! If exercise helps you - great. If smoking weed helps you - ok - but for all cases – if you suggest it as treatment you need to show us some proof that it might help others. This proof should be delivered through references too peer reviewed articles. But – in the case you suggest that people switch their Lithium with vitamins or sugar pills - your post will be moderated and your account will be followed by the moderators. Why?

We think Bluesatin said it well: “If your bipolar was suppressed with multi-vitamins, as far as I'm concerned you were misdiagnosed.” And if you are not even bipolar you should surely not be giving any advice about treatment here in r/bipolarreddit.

“Public acceptance of alternative medicine has been fuelled by a sense of disillusionment many have come to feel toward all authority figures in these troubled times. The rush to dethrone physicians is born of an odd mix of social envy, nostalgia, and disappointment, the latter arising from a number of admittedly over-reaching promises upon which biomedicine has yet to make good. Disaffection has also been prompted by a growing feeling that medical care has become too rushed, overly-technical, and depersonalized. Other detractors are unhappy at the lack of cures for certain chronic conditions which biomedicine does not always manage as well as sufferers might wish." -- Barry L. Beyerstein, Ph.D.

This disenchantment has been intensified in some quarters by a renewed willingness to entertain grand conspiracy theories. An anti-science and anti-physician backlash has resulted from this need to believe that secret plotting on the part of powerful self-serving cabals underlies society’s shortcomings. As a powerful institution with political aims of its own, medicine has filled the role of villain for various conspiracy mongers. Proponents of alternative medicine have been quick to capitalize on this climate of suspicion because it supports their claim that their rejection by orthodox practitioners is merely a ploy to protect the influence and earnings of the medical establishment. Unfortunately, many in their audience seem incapable of separating whatever misgivings they might have about the socio-political activities of doctors as a powerful, self-regulating profession from the question of whether the treatments biomedicine has at its command are genuinely better than those of the “alternatives.” -- Barry L. Beyerstein, Ph.D.

“Holistic medicine tends to fill the void some feel has been created by the technocratization and depersonalization of orthodox medicine. Alternative healers provide comfort and possibly add to the quality of life for those for whom neither they nor orthodox physicians can offer a cure. Its emphasis on interpersonal relations, healthy lifestyle and disease prevention, and its advocacy of using the least invasive effective remedy are worth encouraging. Alternative practices should continue to be carefully combed for those that can pass scientific scrutiny. However, the “alternatives’” tendency to divert patients from more effective, scientifically proven therapies are costs to them, and its popularization of pseudoscience and magical thinking are costs to us all. The burden of proof remains on the proponents—our demand should always be for objective evidence, for as Francis Bacon warned, “...what a man had rather were true he more readily believes.” -- Barry L. Beyerstein, Ph.D.

TL:DR r/bipolarreddit demands that you post links to peer reviewed articles if you are suggesting some way of treating bipolar disorder. Any suggestions that the moderators define as “alternative medicine” will be deleted and the user posting this will be banned.

(Please excuse any bad language as I am not from an English speaking country)

The moderators

YOGCHICK’S COMMENT: Here here. This is the best post I have ever seen on Reddit. During my 30s, when I should have been properly diagnosed, I was naive and idealistic and turned to "alternative therapies" for treatment. I did yoga, meditation, visualization, hypnosis, Bach flower essences, acupuncture, Swedish lightbulbs, past life regression therapy, power animal rituals, Omega 3 diets, herbals teas, multivitamins, and just about everything else in the "alternative" handbook.

It came to nothing except wasted time, energy, and lots of money -- all things that would have been better spent elsewhere. I am to blame for these poor decisions, but i also think the licensed "doctor" who had me try all of these things should lose her license.

Message to J----

2011-11-08T10:54:00.003-06:00

You feel very conflicted about the hateful thoughts you have and wanting to express them. Which would be perfectly fine on a blog wherein you don't give people's full names and just as long as those people don't read your blog. Like this one.

But instead, you choose to get upset and insult me directly, which is far worse than anything I've done on this blog. Don't you see the irony?

I quoted your blog because after perusing through it, it became obvious that my blog bothers you so much precisely because I say exactly what's on my mind and am not afraid to be judgmental. You feel guilty about criticizing others (even anonymously) because, as you say, you grew up in a judgmental family and don't want to be like them.

But you can't help your negative thoughts anyway. So why not vent in a blog like I do?

You did do that in one entry where you criticize people on the train for what they wear and how stupid they look. It was quite funny -- it reminded me of my favorite childhood heroine, Harriet the Spy (someone you also mention in your blog). It sure beats reading endless entries about your fruitless job search. I'd post a link to that post but, predictably, you made your blog private in the last 24 hours.

Also, I AM employed. I work part-time as an online tutor for an educational company based in NYC. I just started 3 weeks ago. And even if I had more time on my hands, I wouldn't be spending it to harass you -- something I made clear in my last post.

If my blog bothers you so much, then don't come here.

Namaste.

Okay, Now I Get Why She Hates Me So Much

2011-11-06T23:21:00.009-06:00

Because I do what she's afraid to do. This is from J-----'s blog:

I keep thinking of this because in my heart of hearts I want to secretly blaspheme the people I so desperately dislike. ... Then Harriet the Spy's moral story reminds of the imminent outcome from secretly writing about people you know. Plus, isn't it a bad thing for people to think of you as inherently negative? I should probably be channeling all this excess energy into positive things instead of furrowing my brow (wrinkles!) and seething about how others bother me. I come from a very eccentrically judgmental family. There are some relatives who are experts at eviscerating strangers for wearing a bizarre hat or trampy skirt.

There's nothing wrong with hateful thoughts, my dear. We all have them. Even you. Get used to it.

Somebody Hates Me ... Really, Really Hates Me!

2011-11-06T22:07:00.007-06:00

As you all know, the other day I posted an experience I had in 2005 when my education career was sabotaged by women who were angry about things I had done. I posted a link to it on the social bookmarking site REDDIT and experienced the following exchange:

YOGCHICK: Interesting why this is getting downvoted so much. Would appreciate it if someone could explain why.

J-----: Don't worry about the downvotes. Did you graduate and receive your teaching license? If so, why not leave the area and start fresh? You could teach in so many other places that have no idea of your history.

J-----: "But along with these intense experiences came a dark side of my mania: I could also become abrasive, testy, and vindictive. Raging. This was usually triggered by workplace annoyances and tedium. Not surprisingly, I've been fired from numerous jobs for insubordination."

You wrote that in your earlier blog. Maybe this is why you were given poor marks. Isn't feeling people are out to destroy you and plot against you a part of your mental illness? Perhaps this is why there's downvotes. Your story becomes less believable the more I read things you wrote. Perhaps you're at fault for your failure, not a giant conspiracy against you by the entire community.

YOGCHICK: I was very careful during my internship to hide my dark side. My teacher persona was very professional and respectful. I'm not stupid. Even if I happened to be going through a "black mood," I would have done everything in my power to keep it in check.

I am not imagining what happened to me -- hallucinations aren't even a symptom of bipolar disorder anyway. Nobody at the school was even trying to hide their intentions -- they were saying hateful things to me to my face and literally telling me to get out.

This is classic blame the victim.

EDIT: Also, this is why I decided against suing the school for workplace bullying. The jury would have had your attitude of "Well, she's bipolar so of course she must have been imagining all this or at least bringing it upon herself with crazy behavior." NO way I was going to go through that frustration and re-traumatize myself all over again.

J-----: But you always blame the victim. All of your posts about group therapy say horrible things about people suffering from mental illness. You blame them all the time. So no one can blame you? A little hypocritical don't you think.

Look what you said about Monica in your group therapy which you so tactfully called a big "pity party"

"But that is precisely what Monica wanted: pity. To her, having others feel sorry for her is love, it’s what love is all about. Being weak and needy and suicidal had, for years, brought her attention and concern from her older siblings, her parents, her friends, and her boyfriend. She had it down. And she didn’t want that to change."

Or about the other women in your group therapy:

"But I’m tired of being the only person there who consistently gives intelligent feedback and there are a few members who simply annoy me too much to make it worthwhile.

Shelly just likes to the sound of her own voice; even looking at her irks me because she’s so fat and lazy and doesn’t exert herself in any way (then wonders why she’s still single). And Jackie is an old fool who loves to feel sorry for herself and play the Martyr Game. I don’t get any satisfaction by sharing my problems with the other women in the group; they don’t make me feel better and they never have anything really intelligent to say to me (with the exception of Andrea and Carol, whom I socialize with outside of group anyway)."

Here's you saying more nasty things about victims:

"I’m just so sick of fucked up women. I’m pretty fucked up too at times, but for the most part I’d like to think I’m reasonably functional. Sara, my former neighbor, is this manic, borderline alcoholic, gold-digger type who couldn’t be bothered to think of anyone but herself and is freaking out because she’s not getting millions out of her divorce settlement...Carol can’t spend more than 10 minutes in my apartment without having a panic attack and racing out the door. Diana is absolutely hysterical (the way you be if you came home from work and saw that your house had burnt to the ground) because the grad school assistanceship she undertook is too challenging (solution: meet with your advisor and just drop the assistanceship – duh)."

Can you hear the blaming? It's all about YOU YOU YOU. You're a nasty and mean lady. No wonder you can't keep a job. It's easier just to blame others and say people were out to get you.

I never said you were imagining it, I'm saying you're paranoid and perhaps lying about it. You may perceive that people were/are out to destroy you, but they're not.

You also have the biggest delusion of grandeur I've ever seen of anyone. All your blogs are filled with how awesome you think you are, how you're so smart, how other people are idiots, how amazing the things you've done are. Heck your writing blog contains an insanely long paragraph about how you think people will steal your work as you think it's just that good. In reality you're a lady on social assistance, who can't hold down a job or function normally in society.

J-----: Oh, I found some more nasty things you said about people. It just never ends. You're one of the meanest self entitled assholes I've ever come across on the internet, and that's saying a lot.

" mean, what the fuck. I can’t become legal secretary – something I once did for 15 years without medication – but this idiot can become a surgical nurse? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Jackie’s a 50something angry, belligerent black woman with an attitude. No advanced formal education. Unemployed for years. Has never used a computer, much less been on the Internet. On massive medication and diagnosed with three different kinds of mental illnesses. Even if by some miracle she completes a program and becomes licensed and gets hired somewhere, she’d be fired on her first day just because she’s so fucking annoying."

"So now Sarah’s bitching on Facebook that she’s having a hard time finding a job because she has no skills or experience. Even though she’s had 3 years to enroll in a typing class and learn word processing. Like that would be so hard. What a dumbass."

Wow...nasty. So don't hide and pretend you're a victim when you're a bully.

Oh wow. I just found a post where you write what you think of all the mentally ill people in your therapy group. Wow, just wow.

" JACKIE:

Diagnosis: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Anxiety, and Garden Variety Fucked-Upness

Assessment: Angry, belligerent black woman with an attitude who has convinced herself martyrdom is somehow noble. Treats every group session as a pity party for every personal grievance she has ever experienced (e.g., recounting for 30 minutes how mean her elementary school teacher was to her 45 years ago). Thrives on suffering at the hands of others without analyzing how she ever got in those situations in the first place. Doesn’t really listen to others’ stories and is unable to give intelligent feedback (and often uses “feedback” as a way to selfishly turn the conversation back to her.) At 55, she is an old fool with little insight and almost no accomplishments.

Recommendation: Stop being a glorified victim and develop a new identity – as a survivor who thrives. This will require you to switch gears from bemoaning the past to understanding the present and what the present requires from you so that you can grow in the future. Whenever you catch yourself whining about how cruel the world is to you, stop and analyze how you can change the situation. Then figure it out and do it"

I really feel people should know what kind of person you are when you're asking sympathy to be doled out.

YOGCHICK:

Of course people can blame me. I'm accountable for what I've done and paid for it dearly. But spilling the family secrets to a co-worker hardly warrants being sabotaged the way I was.

I'm not paranoid and I'm not lying. What happened, happened. You don't have believe it -- I don't need your approval.

But perhaps you should ask yourself why you are getting so upset about my story and why it's so important for you to demonize me for a blog wherein I am only expressing opinions and thoughts that are perfectly valid.

I don't have delusions of grandeur either. Where in my blog am I claiming to be awesome? Sure, recently I posted something about being annoyed that people seem surprised that I even went to college and that I actually have a high IQ. Because I do. What am I supposed to do -- lie about it? The post entry is about intelligence and how I'm tired how people sometimes underestimate me and literally say things like, "But that school is so difficult to get into!" as if they cannot imagine how I got in. I mean, it's insulting and I'm saying so.

The truth is, you are in absolutely no position to tell me people were not out to get me. You weren't there. You just don't like me and what I have to say.

Yes, I am very critical of many of the women in my life. It's called venting. That's what diaries and blogs are for. And if you were to talk to any of the women I criticize, they will all tell you that I'm a really good listener who gives sound feedback. I don't judge them to their face. Yes, I judge them behind their back because I can't help it. I listen to their problems a lot more than they listen to mine and it can get annoying.

In fact, the group facilitator has said that I am the backbone of the group. The previous facilitator before her told me that my addition to the group has changed the dynamics for the better.

That hardly makes me “awesome,” but I’m not the evil, crazy dumb bitch you make me out to be.

J-----:

Delusions of granduer:

"In fact, the group facilitator has said that I am the backbone of the group. The previous facilitator before her told me that my addition to the group has changed the dynamics for the better."

I rest my case. You can't help but brag and place yourself as the the hero in pretty much every situation. I'm not going to go through your blog and point out every instance, because that's basically every post. Heck even in your reply to me you can't help but put yourself about other somehow.

You posted the link, you asked for commentary. Don't be angry when people give you what you asked for. I think people should be aware your sob story isn't so sob worthy.

I take great glee and schadenfreude that you’re an unemployed crazy loser who can’t function outside the internet.

YOGCHICK

Oh my God, are you this openly hateful to everyone? What is wrong with you? Sure, I say some pretty hateful things to -- but not TO THEM. They have no idea I feel this way sometimes and I would never let them know that either.

I only repeated what the two group facilitators said to me.

And I'm hardly angry that you're so hostile in your commentary. Any kind of commentary is good. It's been an interesting exchange.

I think I’m going to post this entire exchange on my blog. It’s perversely fascinating.

J-----:

Ooooo not your blog! What will I do?! A bi-polar women in a fit of illness decided to post what I've written that was public anyway.

Hah! The blog that no one comments on. And don't quote the 200 000 visitors. We all know that's just your own visits.

YOGCHICK: Why are you being so hateful to me?

J-----: I like your idea. Howabout I make public what you wrote on my blog, which people actually read. Heck maybe I'll send an email to your therapy group. I mean you were so smart to tell me where you lived and what the group is from the insanely long and detailed posts in your blog. I'm sure the ladies in your old group (and the new one) would love to know what you think of them.

YOGCHICK: When did I write on your blog? What's the URL? No seriously, I want to see your blog. Are you ashamed of it or something?

For what it's worth, and because you brought it up, I get about 150-300 visitors a day. Mainly from North America, the U.K., Western Europe, and Australia. For some reason, a lot of Germans.

J-----: We should just call a stalemate. No more comments. No blog posts from either of us. Leave it at the fact we greatly dislike each other.

So why the sudden change of heart on J-----’s part, you ask? Because she suddenly realized that all it takes is a simple Google search of J----- to find her two blogs (one of which has just now been suspended – surprise surprise) and various sites on her still-open blog. There, she lists under the sidebar WHERE I AM various sites such as: DeviantArt, Goodreads, Modern Unicorn, and Pinterest. These sites, in turn, reveal her full name, where she lives, and even a recent photo. Of course, she’s also on Twitter.

Amazing what people will say directly to another person under the veil of anonymity. Now, she’s probably freaking out because she said so many hurtful things directly to “an unemployed crazy person who can’t function outside the internet” and is having paranoid visions of being stalked and murdered by said “unemployed crazy person who can’t function outside the internet.”

Well, don’t worry Jessica – I won’t hurt you at all. Because, unlike you, I just got a part-time tutoring job three weeks ago and couldn’t be bothered to travel to fucking Nova Scotia to confront an immature young lady with simplistic notions of right and wrong. Oh, and just so we're clear: ...

I'm a horrible person because I express negative things about people I actually know in a blog where I don't even use their last names. Things I would never, ever say to their face but which are honest opinions I cannot help but have.

But it's okay for you to insult me directly and say hurtful things ("I take great glee and schadenfreude that you're an unemployed crazy loser who can't function outside of the internet") directly to me because you think I'm judgmental.

Whatever.

They Tried to Destroy Me

2011-11-05T12:08:00.003-05:00

Back in 2005, I was a graduate student of education at a city college. I was studying to become a high school English teacher. The last part of the program was to do an 8-week internship at a school wherein I would totally take over a teacher’s classroom and teach five periods a day.

The backdrop to all of this was that my stepmother was dying of lung cancer. We had a difficult relationship during the last year of her life because, not long after she was diagnosed, sometime in 2003, I confided to a co-worker about the family secrets and our dysfunctions. The co-worker, being Korean, went and told her mother, who then went on to tell the entire Korean community.

The backlash was severe. The Koreans became disdainful and openly mocking of my stepmother who was, up until then, a pillar of the Korean community. She became profoundly ashamed and since Asian culture is shame-based, this was particularly painful and humiliating. So much of my stepmother’s energy was in keeping up appearances and now, as she was dying, she could no longer even do that. The Koreans, who never really liked her in the first place, didn’t hesitate to show their true colors.

But my stepmother still had a lot of social power. She was the assistant commissioner of the city public library system and had a lot of connections. She knew the mayor. She’d won a lot of professional career women awards. She didn’t waste any time telling her co-workers and allies about what I had done and how much shame it had caused her. And because the library field and the public school field are so closely connected, it wasn’t long before every city public school knew about me and what I had done.

My stepmother had already passed away when I started my internship in the fall of 2005 at one of the inner city public high schools. Memories of her were still fresh in everyone’s mind and it would not be an exaggeration to say that many practically regarded her as some sort of saint worthy of canonization. To the white people in the education and library spheres, she was the delicate Asian lotus flower to my brutal, cold-hearted, black-sheep-of-the-family reputation. Similarly, her biological daughter was an amazing cancer survivor and successful corporate professional, in sharp contrast to my neer-do-well status.

Everything was very black and white. My stepmother and stepsister were amazing women and I was a monster who intentionally spilled the family secrets. It didn’t matter that for years my stepmother had confided to her co-workers about how she felt about me and my emotional imbalances. I didn’t have a reputation to uphold like she did. I was, apparently, a loser with nothing worthy to protect.

When I got to the high school for the orientation that fall, I immediately sensed that something was wrong. Nobody was friendly to me the way they were to the other interns and, I was to find out later, they hadn’t even assigned me to a cooperating teacher yet. People looked at me funny or were downright hostile. One of the staff members, a guidance counselor, even said contemptuously to me, “Do you even have a degree? Do you even what you’re doing here?”

At the last minute, I was informed who my cooperating teachers would be: a new teacher with no seniority and an older teacher (pictured here) who ran the gifted students program. The new teacher made no bones about the fact that she was pissed off to have to mentor me and said repeatedly, “If you’re looking for a mother figure to guide you, you can forget about it.” She’d apparently heard about me through the grapevine, that I was estranged from both my biological mother and my deceased stepmother. I’d basically been motherless my whole life and knew it. So she knew how to hurt me psychically.

But it was the other older teacher, the teacher who ran the gifted student program, who really had it in for me. She was about the same age as my stepmother and while to the best of my knowledge had never even met my stepmother, she identified with her in a strange, intimate way. I never fully understood this.

Over the next six weeks, I taught classes for the new teacher and the older teacher with tenure. The new teacher was at first hostile, then much kinder toward me, as if she’d suddenly had a change of heart and decided to give me a chance. My impression was that she wanted to make the most out of the awkward situation. I was teaching her students grammar and Beowulf and Chaucer. The only displeasure she ever indicated to me was that I was struggling with the lower-ability students and needed to focus on them more. Her other complaint was that I wasn’t nurturing. When she told me this, her eyes were angry and hateful. Intense. I found this strange and hypocritical because her teaching style was so authoritarian and aggressive. There wasn’t anything nurturing about her either.

The older teacher with tenure was the worst teacher I’d ever observed. She only let me teach for one day, in the beginning when a representative from my college came to observe me. After that, she continued to “teach” the students on her own. I put this in quotes because her style of teaching meant rambling on and on about Greece, Kierkegaard, existentialism, gay rights, and other unrelated topics while the students did their homework for other subjects, texted their friends, listened to their iPods, or simply doodled in their notebooks. There were no assessments or tests whatsoever. The class was a complete and total blow-off. Everybody got an automatic A.

In the meantime, the older teacher made all kinds of cryptic, personal remarks to me, implying that I was a bad person who didn’t deserve to be there. She was also extremely unprofessional, bullying the younger teachers and refusing to follow any kind of lesson plan whatsoever. I quickly realized nobody in the department respected her and nobody ever sat with her in the cafeteria. The principal, I was told, wanted to fire her but could not since she was tenured and protected by the union.

So that’s how I ended up with the two cooperating teachers: one new, the other incompetent and despised.

When midterms came around, the younger, new teacher sat me down in an office and handed me my review. Then she quickly slipped out of the room, refusing to make eye contact with me. When I looked down on the paper, she gave me all Fs and Ds. The only A she gave me in was in computer and technology skills. Her remarks were blunt and harsh. I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t coming up with my own lesson plans. I wasn’t organized. I didn’t understand the students’ needs. I failed.

This was untrue. While I knew I wasn’t giving an A performance, I deserved a good, solid B. I wasn’t fucking up. Sure, I was nervous and frazzled, but students were learning and I was starting to come around with the special needs students.

A few days later, the older, tenured teacher told me in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of me and what I had done to my stepmother. She added that I would never succeed in my internship while she was in charge. She would never pass me.

Everybody in the school knew what was going on. One of the other interns, a prospective math teacher, even openly mocked me to my face. She’d heard about me through her own cooperating teacher. The administrative staff glared at me when I had to sign in every morning. And one day when I was fumbled with the access code of the teacher’s entrance, the principal, who was standing behind me, said, “Jesus Christ, can’t you open a door?”

Nobody felt bad about sabotaging my career because it was already assumed I would never make it through the semester even under normal conditions. They’d already heard from my stepmother what a hopeless fuck-up I was anyway.

It's Not Because I'm Bipolar

2011-11-05T09:32:00.001-05:00

The mental healthcare professionals who see me all think I’m assertive and blunt because of my condition, but this is hardly the case. I didn’t become this way until AFTER my diagnosis and being put on medication.

I’m assertive and blunt because in my 20s and 30s, being a nice, tactful person got me nothing but abuse. I was pretty much eaten alive on a daily basis. Being Asian, female, tiny and only 100 pounds exacerbated this.

This happened at work, where I was constantly bullied. This happened during my teaching internships, where I was constantly bullied. This even happened at the animal shelter where I used to volunteer.

So all this bitchiness you see is making up for lost time and preventing any future hardship. Nobody fucks with me anymore and I have, at last, found a persona that allows me to survive. I won’t change this for anything in the world, and I won’t apologize for it.

This Is What I'll Tell Them

2011-11-05T09:21:00.001-05:00

People often make the racist assumption that just because you’re Asian, you’re really smart, have an advanced degree, and work in fields like computer science, chemistry, or accounting.

I don’t really have this problem, however. I suspect I am the only Asian in the world who does not have this problem. People size me up pretty quick and immediately sense that I’m not a professional and don’t have an income above $35,000 a year. Of course, they would be right on both counts, but what irks me is that people also seem rather surprised that I have any brains at all.

I went to a prestigious university and scored above 1300 on my SATs. My ACT score was 28. So, I was at least in the top 10% of my age group intelligence-wise two decades ago. I’d like to think not much has changed over the years, that I’m still reasonably bright.

Yet whenever it comes up in conversation that I went to the university that I did, people always do a double-take (literally) and ask me to repeat myself.

“You went to school where?” they say incredulously.

So then I repeat myself in a matter-of-fact way, to which they reply, “But that’s a really competitive school. That’s not an easy school to get into.”

The lack of subtlety is astounding. They don’t even bother to hide their dismay and don’t seem to even care that they’re being obnoxious and insulting.

The next time this happen, I’m going to calmly say the following:

Yes, I do realize you are stunned that I went to a good school and you don’t even bother to hide this. All of which is incredibly rude. But I do have an I.Q. well above 100 and I would even venture to say that it is probably higher than yours. The last time I was tested, I outscored most law school students. You are not sensing this, however, because I’m a modest person with a self-effacing sense of humor and dress in a casual manner. I’m also not prone to bourgeois pretensions and I don’t make it a point to intimidate people upon first meeting them. Obviously, I’m not an alpha female who would ever rise to a position of power, but that hardly makes me an ingrate. So you can just go fuck yourself.

This Pretty Much Says It All

2011-11-04T11:54:00.002-05:00

xxxx

Pity Party

2011-11-03T23:46:00.001-05:00

I’m a little drunk right now. This is a total rarity. Just staying in, drinking some super smooth Belgian ale and feeling sorry for myself. And I should feel sorry for myself. I deserve this indulgence.

Any time now, an investigator from Public Aid is coming to investigate.me. What happened was, in early October I applied for food stamps. Somehow this triggered their alarms and some government woman called my father and basically called me a liar. She alerted authorities and now I gotta stay home at all hours to wait to be interrogated.

Fine. All I have to do is be myself. As soon as the interrogator meets me, he’ll realize, like everyone else does, that I’m a total loser who couldn’t possibly hold down a job. He’ll size me up just like everybody else does and come to the conclusion that I’m too stupid and weird to be employed anywhere.

Problem solved.

I Am So Going To See This Movie

2011-11-03T23:20:00.002-05:00

xxxx

Contented

2011-11-03T14:33:00.003-05:00

Now that he's getting on in years, my dog spends more time sleeping. Oftentimes on my legs when I'm reclined on the couch and watching tv. Other times, on a pillow. Pick up a leash, however, and he's instantly up and running. Being a dog, the smallest things make him ecstatic, such as going for a walk, riding in the car, chasing squirrels, or getting treats. If I leave the house for more than an hour, upon my return he's hysterical with joy, as if I've been gone for years. I love him with all my heart.

So Much for Folksy Charm

2011-11-03T11:33:00.002-05:00

Herman Cain: Only 10 days ago, you were the top of the GOP primary race, charming conservatives with your "everyman" charisma and "down-to-earth" persona. When asked what you would say to the unemployed Americans across the land, you replied, boldly, "You have no one to blame but yourselves." This practically got you a standing ovation from your right-wing crowd.

Now you're issuing testy denials and claims of memory loss as to the sexual harassment charges made against you when you were the head of a restaurant association. Should have learned your lesson from previous casualties such as Anthony Wiener and come clean from the get-go. Instead, you're contradicting yourself and looking desperate as closer media scrutiny exposes your bald-face lies.

It's all over. Go back to being a motivational speaker.

Most WTF Headline Ever

2011-11-01T16:03:00.001-05:00

This Is How It's Supposed to Work Out

2011-11-01T15:39:00.001-05:00

I absolutely love this commercial. Beautiful thirtysomethings at their high school reunion. They haven’t fucked up their lives and everything’s going as planned. Happy past, happy present, happy futures. And the guy is sooooo hot. I envy him and want him.

Sign of the Times

2011-10-23T11:40:00.001-05:00

In the never-ending recession, tent cities are popping up all over the United States. It’s disturbing to see once gainfully employed people, such as construction workers and interior designers, suddenly see their homes foreclosed and living under tarps. These were the people who were only two paychecks away from homelessness. Those who are college educated and previously professional can afford the nicer, more expensive Eddie Bauer tents, but many are forced to live in makeshift contraptions and automobiles.

In this Detroit area tent city, young bohemian types have formed a sustainable community where composting, recycling, and daily community chores are strictly enforced. As motivational speaker Tony Robbins says: There will be winters in your life; do you want to freeze or do you want to learn how to ski?

It’s all very sobering. For those of you living outside the U.S., is this happening in your country?

Sean on Sunday Morning

2011-10-23T10:57:00.006-05:00

Sean and I took a month and a half break from each other. He's been pretty busy these past 6 weeks. Last month he flew out to Connecticut to see his parents and to consult with a Lyme Disease doctor (he has been battling chronic Lyme Disease for the last five years). I don't know how the consultation went as he hasn't talked about it, but he does seem to be in good spirits since he came back. Here he is still sleeping in the background while Quincy, my dog, contemplates his surroundings.

Sean is also very busy because, as an antiques collector, he's recently rented out a huge space on the west side of Chicago to store all his possessions. It's exciting, because this is becoming a secondary career and he'll be doing most of his business over the internet -- probably eBay. Finally, all his stuff in one location, not scattered between his loft and various other storage spaces. He's been doing nothing but moving last weekend and this weekend. And he's also been working on a website to advertise his wares.

How inspiring that in spite of his illness, he still finds the time and energy to be passionate and productive.

This morning we got up and went to Starbucks in his neighborhood and hung out for about 30 minutes. Then we parted ways because he has to continue moving his things into the new space. I'll probably be visiting him in his new space this afternoon.

Yup, It's Official: I'm Having a Midlife Crisis

2011-10-19T12:30:00.007-05:00

I was riding the train the other day when I came across this rather pertinent article on my iPhone. It’s from the writer Evan Allis and I must admit, he hits the nail on the head. My head, to be precise. So here are the signs of midlife crisis and how they sadly relate to me.

1. A GROWING SENSE OF REGRET OVER UNATTAINED GOALS.

Yes yes yes yes yes. As British pop star George Michael once said, "There comes a time in your life where you have either reached your goals, or else you are never going to." I'm assuming this happens when you're in your forties. By the time you're my age (45), if you haven't by now become an architect/medical doctor/published author/famous actress, well, let's face it, it ain't ever gonna happen. I have come to this realization and am learning to accept that and have decided instead to live by the following maxim: We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us. You better be right Mr. Joseph Campbell.

2. NEW FEELINGS OF SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS AROUND MORE SUCCESSFUL COLLEAGUES.

Actually, I have had this feeling ever since graduating from college. It never abated. Does this mean I've been having a midlife crisis since my early twenties?

3. A NEW EMPHASIS ON REMAINING YOUTHFUL WHEN THE EFFORT PREVIOUSLY SEEMED UNIMPORTANT.

Oh so applicable. Last year I joined a health club where, for 9 months, I exercised like a motherfucker fives times a week while surviving on a diet of Healthy Choice frozen dinners and lowfat yogurt. It worked and I am finally down to an almost svelte 99.4 pounds. This is my only remaining point of pride as it is the only thing I've managed not to fuck up. But the main reason losing weight became so crucial to me was the realization that menopause is right around the corner and I don't want to enter it while being overweight. Maintaining my figure after menopause will only be that much harder.

I refuse to become the familiar "pleasantly plump" spinster. Rather, my role models in this area are Madonna and Sharon Stone. And when I'm wearing my Daisy Duke cut-off shorts with micro T and high heels, my attitude is: If you still got it, flaunt it. Flaunt it while you still can.

4. A DESIRE TO SPEND MORE TIME ALONE OR WITH CERTAIN PEERS WHO COULD BE CHARACTERIZED AS "YOUTHFUL" OR "COMFORTABLE IN THEIR OWN SKIN."

I've always been a loner, so this is nothing new. But it's significant that the high school classmates I've chosen to re-connect with are primarily the laidback types who were typically burnouts and partiers in their youth. Of course, now, they're much more responsible and smoke weed far less frequently. But I appreciate how down-to-earth they've remained and feel much more at ease around them than if they were doctors and lawyers with massive stock portfolios. Plus, almost all of them are liberal Democrats.

5. A NEW-FOUND TENDENCY TO ABUSE ALCOHOL. .

No. Does not apply and never will.

6. PLACING IMPORT ON ACQUIRING UNUSUAL OR EXPENSIVE ITEMS WHEN SUCH PURCHASES COULD PREVIOUSLY HAVE BEEN DESCRIBED AS FRIVOLOUS OR IMPULSIVE.

Again, does not apply. Probably because I am chronically broke.

7. A SHARP INCREASE IN SELF-CRITICISM WITH A CORRELATING DECLINE IN SELF-COMPASSION.

This has always been the case which, for the second time, leads me to wonder if I’ve been having a midlife crisis my entire adult life. But to be more exact, I am more critical of myself than ever in the sense that my shortcomings are more glaringly obvious to me now that I’m stabilized on medication. Paradoxically, I’m also more forgiving of myself and my faults. To put it another way: I am keenly more aware of my current and past mistakes, while seeing more clearly that having bipolar disorder has played a major role in those mistakes.

8. OBSESSING OVER ONE'S PHYSICAL APPEARANCE WHEN SIMILAR ATTENTION WAS PREVIOUSLY UNPAID.

Not too much. I mean, I’m damn proud of myself for losing 25 pounds and being able to fit back into my skinny jeans. And I’ve finally figured out how to style my hair properly and wear the right shade of lipstick that compliments my complexion. But that is hardly obsessive. Just properly developing self-esteem. I don’t believe being in your 40s means letting yourself go in the health and looks department. There’s nothing wrong with being a cougar or a MILF.

9. PLACING UNUSUAL AMOUNTS OF PRESSURE AND STRESS ON ONE'S CHILDREN TO EXCEL IN A VARIETY OF FIELDS.

Does not apply.

10. ENTERING RELATIONSHIPS WITH YOUNGER PARTNERS.

Oh yes, and I make no apologies for it. Thirtysomething men are way more dynamic and physically hotter than the generation before them. They tend to work out more, are more playful and spontaneous, and, most importantly, grew up in a post-feminist era (so they relate to women a little better). Their sense of humor can be quite droll and sophisticated. And they're up for anything -- not just the usual Cubs game at Wrigley Field. I'm just not that crazy about men my age and older. They're stiff and closed-minded and stuck in their ways. Boring.

Julius Meinl on Lincoln Avenue, Chicago

2011-10-16T14:00:00.004-05:00

Food For Thought

2011-10-16T11:32:00.001-05:00

Occupy Wall Street: An Overview

2011-10-15T16:43:00.015-05:00

If you watch the mainstream media and nothing else, your impression of the Occupy Wall Street movement is that it’s made up of a bunch of hippy college students defecating in bushes, smoking pot, and whining about their student loans. Them and middle-age eccentrics who don’t really know what they want, can’t get their shit together to form any kind of consensus, and have envy issues with their more successful American peers. They are typically portrayed as inarticulate, misguided, and absolutely devoid of realistic solutions. Rebels without a cause. Socialist ideologues who couldn’t possibly speak for mainstream America.

All of this is totally untrue, and if you actually attend one of the dozens of protests across the country in major cities such as New York, Chicago, Dallas, San Francisco, and Portland, you will find that, unlike the Tea Party (a corporate sponsored movement), OWS is comprised of a diverse cross section of Americans who can articulate their rage quite succinctly and have more than a vague notion as to how to remedy our nation’s economic and political woes. Unlike the Tea Party, they can also spell, use correct grammar, and get their information beyond the confines of mainstream media news. These are the informed people, the thinking people.

This Is What the Occupy Wall Street Protesters Are Outraged About:

The rich are getting richer, the poor are getting poorer, and the middle class is disappearing.
Unemployment is getting worse. A record number of unemployed have been unemployed for longer than 6 months. And the unemployment rate is actually at 17% if you include those stuck in part-time jobs and those who’ve simply given up looking for a job altogether.
While all this is going on, corporate profits are at an all-time high. In fact, CEO salaries have skyrocketed since 1990 while average production worker pay has increased only 4% and minimum wage has dropped. Average salary wages, when adjusted for inflation, have not increased in more than 50 years.
Income inequality in this country is at its most extreme ever. The top 1% own 42% of the financial wealth of this country. The top 5% own nearly 70%. What this means is that income equality is actually better in China, India, and Iran than it is here in the U.S.
While all this is going on, taxes on the rich are the lowest they have ever been.
The big banks, who caused this financial mess, were bailed out, are still not lending out money to businesses, are not held accountable for their unethical behavior, and are experiencing record profits.
Our elected officials, Democrat and Republican, have allowed all this to happen because they are beholden to Wall Street, Big Business, and Corporations -- all of whom pour vast sums of money into their election campaigns. This is bribery pure and simple. We are no longer a democracy, but a corporatocracy. And there is no separation of Corporation and State.

Henry Blodget of BUSINESS INSIDER explains this in greater detail here in easy to understand language and with eye-opening charts and graphs.

And Here’s What Many of the Protesters Are Supporting to Fix Our Government and Economy:

This was taken from the Occupy Chicago website. Obviously, this group does not speak for all, but the following are some of the most vocalized suggestions in the nascent movement and many of these ideas have already been echoed by other progressive reform advocates such as The Coffee Party and Elizabeth Warren.

1.PASS HR 1489 REINSTATING GLASS-STEAGALL. – A depression era safeguard that separated the commercial lending and investment banking portions of banks. Its repeal in 1999 is considered the major cause of the global financial meltdown of 2008-2009.

2. REPEAL BUSH TAX CUTS FOR THE WEALTHY

3. FULLY INVESTIGATE AND PROSECUTE THE WALL STREET CRIMINALS who clearly broke the law and helped cause the 2008 financial crisis.

4.OVERTURN CITIZENS UNITED v. US. – A 2010 Supreme Court Decision which ruled that money is speech. Corporations, as legal persons, are now allowed to contribute unlimited amounts of money to campaigns in the exercise of free “speech.”

5. PASS THE BUFFET RULE ON FAIR TAXATION, CLOSE CORPORATE TAX LOOPHOLES, PROHIBIT HIDING FUNDS OFFSHORE.

6. GIVE THE SEC STRICTER REGULATORY POWER, STRENGTHEN THE CONSUMER PROTECTION BUREAU, AND PROVIDE ASSISTANCE FOR OWNERS OF FORECLOSED MORTGAGES WHO WERE VICTIMS OF PREDATORY LENDING.

7.TAKE STEPS TO LIMIT THE INFLUENCE OF LOBBYISTS AND ELIMINATE THE PRACTICE OF LOBBYISTS WRITING LEGISLATION.

8. ELIMINATE RIGHT OF FORMER GOVERNMENT REGULATORS TO WORK FOR CORPORATIONS OR INDUSTRIES THEY ONCE REGULATED.

9. ELIMINATE CORPORATE PERSONHOOD (so that corporations can no longer make campaign contributions and thereby own our politicians).

10. INSIST THE FEC STAND UP FOR THE PUBLIC INTEREST IN REGULATING PRIVATE USE OF PUBLIC AIRWAVES to help ensure that political candidates ARE GIVEN EQUAL TIME for free at reasonable intervals during campaign season.

11. REFORM CAMPAIGN FINANCE WITH THE PASSAGE OF THE FAIR ELECTIONS NOW ACT (S.750, H.R. 1404).

12. FORGIVE STUDENT DEBT – The same institutions that gave almost $2T in bailouts and then extended $16T of loans at little to no interest for banks can surely afford to forgive the $946B of student debt currently held. Not only does this favor the 99% over the 1%, it has the practical effect of more citizens spending money on actual goods, not paying down interest.

What You Can Do:

Go to a rally and check it out for yourself. Talk to people. You’ll find they’re a diverse crowd of middle-class educated folks, patriotic military veterans, college students, disillusioned Democrats and independents, teachers and professors, union members, small business owners, and so on. It’s a truly populist movement. It’s the other 99%.

Also, check out alternative news sources online. Many of them have their own Youtube channels, such as Cenk Uygur of The Young Turks. Uygur had a brief stint at so-called liberal MSNBC, but was booted off after only a month (in spite of high ratings) because he dared to criticize the Democrats and the Obama Administration as much as he criticized conservatives. So he’s back at Young Turks, giving it to corporate-sponsored media and political hypocrisy.

Occupy Wall Street: Signs of the Times

2011-10-15T14:18:00.004-05:00

The Backlash Against Steve Jobs and Apple

2011-10-14T23:21:00.005-05:00

I suppose it was only a matter of time before there was a backlash against Steve Jobs and I would be the first to admit that I’ve been a part of it. This is only to be expected as such a commanding, influential figure would inevitably warrant intense scrutiny.

The other day I posted a link to an article which detailed the dark side of Apple’s practices, not the least of which includes the brutal treatment of the Chinese factory workers who actually make these wildly popular devices. And as I read these reports, I was struck by the jarring irony and contradiction that Steve Jobs, a professed Buddhist who must have believed in karma and reincarnation, allowed these brutalities to happen under his watch. It’s easy to jump to the conclusion that his spirituality was profoundly limited.

But before we conclude that Steve Jobs was just another run-of-the-mill ruthless capitalist pig and that Apple is no better than the likes of Exxon and Bank of America, there are some things we need to consider.

Foxconn, the Taiwanese company that Apple subcontracts to manufacture its products, has contracts with other technological giants such as HP, Microsoft, Acer and Dell. But Apple has done more than these rival companies to improve working conditions by establishing guidelines which, if not met, result in the termination of their contracts. They also audit the factories and publish yearly reports, such as this one from 2010.

Earlier this year, it was reported that there was a rash of suicides at the Foxconn plant. Apple did not take this lightly and sent their own interim CEO, Tim Cook, to investigate. This prompted Apple to subsidize a 20% wage increase for Foxconn employees – something no other corporation was willing to do.

And according to this source:

Apple are also taking action to ensure that minerals such as tantalum, tungsten, tin and gold are not purchased from smelters that get their products from regions where armed conflict or human rights abuses are known to be happening. They have also been helping to strengthen the rights of facility workers who are sometimes recruited from their home countries and then sent to work in factories in other countries. These immigrants can be forced to pay very high fees to work which can often cause them debt. Apple have forced these companies to reimburse $3.4 million in fees to foreign workers in 18 facilities over the last two years.

Other things to consider:

Apple makes its products recyclable and publicizes environmental reports.

In 2008, Apple donated $100,000 to defeat California’s Proposition 8, an initiative to ban gay marriage. They were one of the only major corporations to do this.

Apple is a member of PRODUCT RED, an organization that fights AIDS, and their involvement has prompted the following quote from co-founder Bono himself:

“As a founder of (charity) PRODUCT RED, I’d like to point out that Apple’s contribution to our fight against AIDS in Africa has been invaluable. Through the sale of (RED) products, Apple has been (RED)’s largest contributor to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria — giving tens of millions of dollars that have transformed the lives of more than two million Africans through H.I.V. testing, treatment and counseling. This is serious and significant. And Apple’s involvement has encouraged other companies to step up.”

So no, perhaps Mr. Jobs is not so spiritually bankrupt after all. Perhaps he is in heaven or well on his way to another meaningful, productive life.

Saturday Night

2011-10-14T12:43:00.010-05:00

It's amazing how Sean and I have managed to make it through an entire summer without going out for drinks and bar-hopping. The problem was, we'd always start out the evening ordering in (from a local Thai restaurant) and then we'd watch a little tv. Next thing you know, we'd be too tired to get off the couch. We finally put an end to this nonsense last Saturday night. Upon arriving at his loft in the early evening,

I had a quick rum and coke and then we were off to Milwaukee Avenue in Bucktown. We dropped in at Rodan, taking a seat next to the dance floor with the giant screen flashing 60s mod imagery. I sipped some rum concoction and we discussed the future of Apple Corporation without Steve Jobs. Then we went to another bar a couple doors down and danced with abandon alongside a crowd of twentysomethings.

The energy was so positive and celebratory.

Everybody belonged. Everybody was in sync. Everybody moved with grace.

Only happy vibes and happy people.

So here are some shots I took with my iPhone of Sean at his place, getting ready to go out. Followed by some shots of Rodan.

The Dark Side of Steve Jobs and Apple

2011-10-10T23:22:00.006-05:00

No sooner had Steve Jobs been properly buried in a private ceremony in California when better news outlets began to take a closer look at the man and his company’s practices. This is much needed for Apple has been so often praised, rightly, for its stylish wizardry that we’ve often failed to look deeper into how Apple accomplished these feats in the first place and at what price.

Much will be revealed about Steve Jobs and his company over the next months and remaining decade. A fully authorized biography (comprised of more than 40 interviews with The Visionary himself) will be released at the end of October. It will, no doubt, become the fastest selling biography in publishing history.

In the meantime, a recent New York Times article became the first to stray from the almost cult-like fawning the public had exhibited in the first 48 hours after Jobs’ death. And Tim Ryan has recently written an excellent piece at the Gawker website asking the tough questions and coming up with some rather unsettling explanations:

One thing (Steve Jobs) wasn't, though, was perfect. Indeed there were things Jobs did while at Apple that were deeply disturbing. Rude, dismissive, hostile, spiteful: Apple employees—the ones not bound by confidentiality agreements—have had a different story to tell over the years about Jobs and the bullying, manipulation and fear that followed him around Apple. Jobs contributed to global problems, too. Apple's success has been built literally on the backs of Chinese workers, many of them children and all of them enduring long shifts and the specter of brutal penalties for mistakes. And, for all his talk of enabling individual expression, Jobs imposed paranoid rules that centralized control of who could say what on his devices and in his company.

Apparently, Jobs was often a sadistic tyrant who regularly crushed the souls of his most loyal employees whenever he was only slightly displeased. The man we’d all come to know and love as the charismatic showman at Macworld Expositions clearly had a dark side. And his company’s coercive tactics in relation to the press and ordinary citizens could border on medieval. But what is most disturbing is the picture Ryan paints of Chinese slave laborers toiling away during 18-hour shifts to meet their manufacturing quotas for Apple products. It is truly horrifying in part because it is in such stark contrast to the magic we’ve all come to associate with Apple and its exuberant commercials. Who knew that these wonderful gadgets, which have brought so much joy to the western world, are being made by workers, many under the age of 16, under such abominable, unsafe conditions that on-the-job suicide and work-related accidents are commonplace. This is the dirty secret of the technology industry.

You can read Tim Ryan’s article, “What Everyone Is Too Polite To Say About Steve Jobs.” in full here. I highly recommend it.

Steve Jobs: 1955 - 2011

2011-10-05T22:01:00.002-05:00

"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."

Poisoning Little Girls' Minds for Centuries (click to enlarge)

2011-09-29T21:27:00.001-05:00

What I Need to Do More Often

2011-09-28T22:34:00.002-05:00

So Prescient

2011-09-28T14:28:00.002-05:00

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Best Fitness Blog Ever

2011-09-28T14:10:00.001-05:00

I’m a firm believer in karma, and as of yesterday I’ve decided that every time I come across a better-than-decent blog, I’m not only putting it in my blog roll on the far right sidebar, I’m also going to write a post extolling its virtues. So today, I’m here to tell you about Fitness B&W which I discovered while researching low-carb diets. It’s exactly what its name implies: simple, straightforward fitness and nutrition information with charming black and white photography. Informative yet elegant (not surprising since its creator, Kevin McMilllian, works at a web design company). THE place to go if you want to learn about washboard stomach acquisition, signs that you’re overtraining, or the benefits of krill oil.

God Opening the Sky

2011-09-28T09:20:00.004-05:00

I Think I Finally Found It

2011-09-27T20:00:00.005-05:00

… a conservative website that doesn’t make me wince, puke, or become overwhelmed with despair at the human race. It’s called TAKI’S MAGAZINE and it’s almost as entertaining as watching Tina Fey impersonate Sarah Palin.

I came across it on Facebook, where I belong to an open group started by Jim Goad, the author of REDNECK MANIFESTO. I’ve always been a fan of Goad’s punchy, acerbic social commentary and occasionally have chit-chats with him over at the social networking site.

Goad, who has evolved (devolved?) from trailer trash to college-educated journalist to what now appears to be full-blown conservative shill (or, at least, a Libertarian in the making), now writes regularly for TAKI’S MAGAZINE, whose tagline is “Cocktails, Countesses & Mental Caviar.” It’s got a pretty swanky layout and, not unlike the liberal site THE DAILY BEAST, has an urbane, NYC vibe -- as evidenced by playful articles such as “The Day I Left the Left,” “Seven Ideas You Can Never Discuss on Television,” and “Never Trust Anyone Who Hasn’t Been Punched in the Face.” There's even a lovely review of the Ryan Gosling film, DRIVE, which many of you know I thoroughly enjoyed last week. Clearly, this site has a hipness factor sorely lacking in virtually every right-wing medial outlet I’ve ever come across. It was just a matter of time before some bright, young Republican took notice that not everyone finds Mike Huckabee particularly galvanizing and rectified the situation.

Anyway, today (or this month … whatever) marks the 20^th anniversary of the release of Nirvana’s NEVERMIND album. As a member of Generation X, I suppose I’m supposed to give a shit. But I don’t. And neither does Jim Goad, who posted the link on Facebook to his latest TAKI entry, “Smells Like Dead Junkie.” Here’s a taste:

As with everything Cobain-related, the predictable slop-puddle of fawning encomiums and immature ejaculations have squirted forth from the bespectacled, beta-male rock critics that Kurt, in his quest to forever change the music industry, neglected to slay. For two decades running, she-men who look like this have tossed the most absurdly hyperbolic verbal hosannas at the incurably self-pitying junkie as if he actually had redeeming personal qualities. Michael Calderone (pictured in the far left of that lineup), without a trace of irony, once wrote that “Kurt Cobain’s suicide was our generation’s Kennedy assassination.” Gil Kaufman (second from left) equated Cobain’s suicide with “the Challenger and Columbia Space Shuttle explosions, the riots following the Rodney King verdict, [and] the September 11, 2001 terror attacks….”

You can the read the article in full here.

Oh, and Mr. Goad, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry if my commentary about I.Q.s and race upset you, but really, it was rather churlish of you to delete an entire post just because I was publicly owning your ass in an argument on Facebook. I had the facts on my side (research, studies) and you did not (using Wikipedia as a source is rather lame).

The Best 120 Seconds

2011-09-25T17:42:00.001-05:00

I'd like to think VIRGIN SUICIDES did for Josh Hartnett's career what THELMA & LOUISE did for Brad Pitt's. Here's what I'm talking about:

Words of the Day

2011-09-25T17:10:00.001-05:00

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Some of My Favorite Things

2011-09-24T10:27:00.023-05:00

I have such an ambivalent attitude toward things. Literally, toward things -- material objects. Yes, I know we're not supposed to be obsessed with the things we have, and that we should invest our attention in experiences and one another. And I sincerely try to do that. For example, I never wear clothes with loud designers labels, and I only buy what I can purchase in cash -- never credit. But a part of me loves clutter, to be surrounded by things that stir up memories and feelings. Because we are, whether we like it or not, largely made up of what we have. They are, for better or worse, a reflection of who we are.

Below: My dresser. The photo in the center is of me and my best friend Michael from last year when I visited him in California. We went on the Sony Movie Studios Tour and got our picture taken on the set of BURLESQUE, the musical with Cher and Christina Aguilera. Notice the framed photo of George Michael on the left, which I bought off of eBay. A fan took it of him in a hotel lobby back in the 80s.

Three things from my father. A mirror framed in mosaic glass and two plaques with words of wisdom (because my father is forever giving me words of wisdom). One plaque reminds me that nothing should be valued more than the value of each day. The other is a Biblical passage reminding me what love is, from the Book of Corinthians. If the building was on fire, this is what I would run back in to retrieve.
Below from left to right: a bright vivid orange vase I bought at Crate & Barrel because I loved the color so much (not that it goes with my decor). A Spock bobble-head when I was going through a Star Trek phase. A standing frame picture of Paris from my stepmother. Another photo, one of many, of me and my dog, shortly after we got him in 2002. Wedged in between all these things is a plastic Taco Bell cup promoting George Michael's Listen Without Prejudice album from 1989 that I bought online for $16. Priceless.

My tchotchkes. A handpainted pot from a family vacation to the American Southwest back in the 90s. Seashells my father didn't want. Marc Jacob cologne. A figurine of a Shih Tzu. And most of all, a solid brass paperweight spelling LOVE from my father's 70s bachelor pad days -- it's solid and permanent just like him.

Framed photo of my father. An old toy of my dog that's falling apart so I took it away from him because it's a choking hazard (I replaced it with a replica) -- he always loves toys shaped likes pigs and squirrels and other live animals. A ceramic piggy bank that I made in elementary school. A serious, heavy-duty 3-hole puncher. A giant orange calculator I bought from this clever shop in Soho when I visited my cousins in 2006.

My jewelry collection. Rings from Banana Republic and bangle bracelets from H&M. Mirror.

My magazine collection: back issues of Vogue from the 80s and 90s to the present. Lots of Kate Moss coverage! And the CD-ROM boxed set of all the back issues of Rolling Stone that my best friend Michael got me for Christmas one year. So cool.

Girly Stuff. Survival Stuff. Tampons. Nicoderm patches. Hairbrush. Deodorant. Mirror. Hairbands. A chrome choker from the late 70s that I bought in a yard sale for a dollar.

Why Are There So Many UFO Sightings Around The World?

2011-09-24T02:15:00.002-05:00

I love this. Contact. It's happening all over the world. In China, in Israel, in the United States, in Scandinavian countries. Always over densely populated metropolitan areas. Everyone's watching the footage on Youtube or the local news ... but all governments are keeping silent about it. Below is a collection of new coverage just in the past few months...

At the Palladium in the 80s

2011-09-22T01:06:00.003-05:00

The guy on the left, who looks like Ralph Macchio channeling Duran Duran, is my friend Jay who was the first boyfriend of my best friend Michael. Here he is partying with a couple club kids at The Palladium, the 80s night club in New York City where graffiti artist Keith Haring, painter Jean-Michel Basquiat, writers Jay McInerney and Tama Janowitz, and singers Boy George and Debbie Harry used to hang. Classic. Ecstasy anyone?

See This Film: Stupid Crazy Love

2011-09-20T15:46:00.004-05:00

I swear, Ryan Gosling's career is on fire. I saw his latest, DRIVE, on Saturday, not realizing that STUPID CRAZY LOVE, his foray into rom-com, was still playing at the same theater. So I saw that last night. And then, the much-talk-about IDES OF MARCH, a political thriller with George Clooney, is coming out this October. A Gosling trifecta! But I especially enjoyed STUPID CRAZY LOVE which is that most rare species: a romantic comedy that is not retarded. The dialogue is crisp and witty, the characters are fully fleshed and compelling, and the film makes more than a few sharp observations about the nature of attraction and the unpredictability of love. Smart yet sweet.

Go See This Film: DRIVE

2011-09-18T14:54:00.002-05:00

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It got a 15 minute standing ovation at this year’s Cannes Film Festival. Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn won the award for best director. The screenplay was adapted by Hossein Amini, who’d previously been nominated for an Oscar. Can't-lose actors Ryan Gosling and Carey Mulligan are in it.

So why am I not more impressed? I’d read the reviews, almost all of which are stellar, and after having sat through it (twice, no less) on Saturday, I walked out of the theater feeling almost nothing. Perhaps it was because GOODFELLAS has been playing repeatedly on cable these past two weeks and the bar has been set in my mind as far as crime stories go.

But this isn’t Scorsese directing, it’s Refn, and his style is decidedly understated, muted, and moody. In other words, very European. Which is fine. But ultimately the story is rather mundane and about three-quarters of the way through, you already know the ending (which the film takes its own sweet time to reach, as if it’s steady, deliberate approach would make you care more.)

On the plus side in a major way: Ryan Gosling is his usual superlative self. He plays the unnamed antihero with a cool intensity that recalls Clint Eastwood or a young Steve McQueen. Indeed, as I sat in the theater, I couldn’t help wondering what the old school actors would make of him. And having Albert Brooks play a mobster was inspired casting that pays off dividends.

Other strengths: Ultraviolence played out in new and refreshing ways. Indeed, there are images imprinted on my brain that will never leave. And the 80s-inspired soundtrack is a must for downloading. Refn understands all too well that style matters; the opening credits are done in hot pink fonts that recall RISKY BUSINESS.

Sidenote: DRIVE vaguely reminded me of THE AMERICAN, another Hollywood action film directed by a European (Dutch photographer Anton Corbijn). It too was elegant and subdued … yet empty, with two-dimensional female characters (femme fatale v. hooker with a heart of gold) and a slow, plodding plot (not to mention repeated scenes with a Catholic priest that proved meaningless and cliched). Below is the review of THE AMERICAN from David Edwards of The Mirror, who claims the film is a “lifeless torpid affair with all the forward momentum of a glacier.” I would have to concur.

Topshop Hits Chicago

2011-09-16T21:37:00.004-05:00

Finally, our very own flagship store. I was not disappointed. The place to go to find your inner Kate Moss. Rock star chic, punk rock sensibilities, or demure throwbacks to the 30s -- it's all here. And, of course, set to the most perfect soundtrack piping through (The Smiths, Muse, George Michael, Blondie, et al.). So nice to know I won't have to cross the Atlantic to channel Anita Pallenberg. The British invasion is back.