What do you say when a friend texts you late at night, "I want to die." ?
You ask, "Do you really want to die? Should I be concerned?"
"Of course I do. My life is f*cked up"
This conversation continues. You ask several times, "Do you plan on harming yourself? If so, how do you plan on doing it?"
Followed up with, "Do you plan to be alive tomorrow?"
He responds with vague answers; not truly answering, or just changing the topic altogether. He seems serious.
You put aside the books you were studying. You minimize the document you were just working on titled, "What is a counselor?" and you open a webpage with a list of suicide hotlines.
---------------
This means you have put aside your education, your future career and livelihood to help someone. Not a client or a patient, possibly not even someone you consider a friend. Many professionals in the mental health field would say that it is not your job. That the person should contact someone and you should focus on your own stuff. However, that wouldn't be their advice if the person texting you were willing to pay, would it? Of course, if you don't have a license, that would be illegal... but you're getting off topic. Point being- what do you do? No compassionate and decent human being would just go back to their schoolwork after hearing something like that.
This is the sort of conflict anyone with empathy and patience has encountered. No doubt, the older one gets, the more calls of desperation you are likely to receive. And the answer only lies in the person in the moment facing the situation. There is no wrong answer (between speaking to them or pawning them off to someone else), from a professional and ethical aspect, this is entirely subjective. It depends on how capable you view yourself to be, what you believe your role is in this person's life, and how you think you will respond in the worst case scenario. If things go downhill, there is no good solution or outcome. Most people in this position will find a way to blame themselves, no matter how much time and effort they devoted to the person at risk, or how many resources they recommended. On the other hand, if things turn out being okay, you need to learn to take credit. Not necessarily dancing around singing, "I saved a life! I am the best person who has ever lived!!" but... just taking a moment to recognize the good deed, the skills you have, and an appreciation for yourself. This is the part most people forget to celebrate. Saving a life is not minor feat. Many (if not all) of the biggest names in the mental health field have experienced losing a patient or client. Win or lose, it will be traumatic. So, no matter what the outcome, self-care and even therapy may be necessary.
Of course, sometimes you may also get impatient with the people you are dealing with. Oftentimes, self-harming people will ask for advice, then tell you everything you advise is stupid and wrong. This can be so, so very frustrating. Or they make the horrible statement, "I have the hardest life ever." Pretty sure you're not from Sudan or Syria, dude! Keep in mind, however, that to them, their life is THEIR hardest life ever. This makes it a lot easier to empathize. It's no competition, but everyone who is hurting is looking for a reason. An explanation for the bad things and the pain, even if there is nothing there to blame. Sometimes you just have to tell them, "Yep. Life is hard."
Validation is way more comforting than hearing, "No! Life is good! Stop being sad, chum!" I can say from firsthand experience that when you're bummed out, being told you're wrong and that everything is sunshine and lollipops, you just want to stab yourself (and the other person) in the vulva and watch the knife come out through the larynx. Positivity is not always the answer. While hope for the future is nice, it's not always realistic. Feeling understood and less alone is the goal. Of course, maybe don't convince them that there is absolutely no reason to hold on and they'll only become more miserable throughout life. That might not be the way to go, either. Let's aim for a healthy middle, shall we? Life is awful, but we're all miserable together. So, we aim to enrich other people's lives and we try to make our own lives as decent as possible. Being dead is super boring, anyway. If nothing or no one else, you, you who is giving them your love and care, you'll be there and you want Mr. Sadface dude or lady to improve your life. You probably benefit from this person being alive in some way (accept it- we're all selfish jerks), so let them know that. Maybe they're working on a project that you want to see completed, or they owe you money (but they have all the time they need to pay you back) or... whatever. If it's someone you've yet to meet in person, all the better! Try, "My goal right now is go to _____ with you!"
Keeping someone alive is NOT easy. Keeping them from harming themselves is an exhausting, long-term process. So, I think common sense is key. Whether you're up for the task or not is the first step. Don't take it on because it's the "right thing to do" or it's a new challenge. That's stupid. Don't be stupid. If you KNOW you can handle it on all levels, and the person at risk refuses to contact anyone else, then giving it your all is worthwhile. Of course, there should still be 911 on the other line. It shouldn't be all on you, anyway. Don't tell the whole neighbourhood and have a suicide block party... no. That might be fun, but probably not helpful. Just contact a close friend or family member (of yours AND of Mr. Sadface) and see what wisdom they can offer or if there's anyone they think you should talk to that may help. Again, that's if Mr. Sadface won't contact a hotline or anyone. A professional is ideal. You may feel like you're betraying this person's trust or they may get angry at you, but... get over it. Priorities. His/her life or his/her trust?
So... that's all my suicidey advice for today! I hope you don't run into a situation like this anytime soon, but now you're fairly prepared if so.
Monday, December 8, 2014
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Money, Monet
Let's get the elephant in the room dealt with- I am most definitely a "privileged white person". Am I a "privileged Christian" or "privileged man"? No. I am just a very fortunate white person. I was born white. Thus, no one hates me for being black or otherwise. Being a Jewish female, on the other hand, has gotten me into some sticky situations. That's okay, though. Well, not okay. It shouldn't happen. Stop picking on me, guys! BUT, it is not a unique experience I've had, because, unfortunately, everyone at some point or another suffers for being who they are. Unless you're a white, male Mormon. I think bullying a Mormon is punishable by four years of feet-dangling.
And... this doesn't have much to do with my topic today. Well, it does, as, money certainly helps one be privileged. On the other hand, I don't have said money because I am caucasian. I have it because my parents are very intelligent and hardworking people. They came from the nether-regions of New York City and they worked their way into a new tax bracket.
If your grandparents or great-grandparents arrived to America from Neverheardofit, Pakistan, Dontcare, Mexico, or Weate Ourkidz, Russia; they definitely suffered. Woe is them! How they suffered.
Then, they had kids who worked hard and achieved "middle-class" status, despite their religion, gender, or background - believe it or not, growing up in the Depression as a Jewish (in my family's case) immigrant from Wemightaswellbedead, Austria, was no easy task.
So, these fine men and women all went on and had families. One kids, three kids... whatever it was, they had those kids and they made them live together; shoved into a one-bedroom apartment or studio like lox in airtight packaging.
These children went on to become doctors, lawyers, and engineers. Again, in my case, literally. Thus, money came into play. Money was not plentiful at first, but with a lot of hard work, dedication, and wacky tobaccy, (but not really. Or, maybe!) these kiddos became successful in their field(s) of choice and moved into the upper-middle class, or possibly even the upper-class. Ooh la la!
The next step was the tricky part, however. When these children grew up and achieved great things, they then had children of their own. Now, these children were in a difficult position. They were growing up with the luxuries of wealth and privilege, so where was "up"? They might be able to do better than their parents. They might make more money and have a fancier job title... but that would require twice the time, money, and effort. Plus, the more modest children would then feel like a spoiled, overly-ambitious copy of their parents.
They could do just as well as their parents, but that wouldn't be too interesting. Or, they could do less than their parents due to laziness, disinterest, fear, or self-doubt.
Not to mention, the years of being told, "You don't understand, your life is perfect. You have money..." pays its toll on a person's conscience. Depending on an individual's personality and experiences, money and success can really mess with one's head. Guilt may lay on one's shoulder like a sack of Moonpies filled with steel instead of cream, and result in depression, anxiety, self-loathing, and way too many cats named "Mitzy Boo Boo".
So, the real question here is, does money make the man? Can we assume someone's life is easier, happier, better... because they have money? Or, does it come with its own stressors, challenges, and not make living life any easier? My vote is "Yes."
Yes- having money means you can travel, eat well, buy gifts, go out, stay clean, maintain a little more safety in your life, pay bills... so on.
No- having money does not make you immune to diseases and disorders, lost friends, no friends, friend who take advantage of you, people who hurt you, stress, expectations, fears, anger, loss... so on.
If your entire life is defined by what you can pay for, or not pay for, (which is perfectly legitimate, as most things cost money) then, you may see the Yes. You may assume your life would be perfect if you could pay your mom's medical bills, buy your kids Christmas gifts, pay off your student loans, or not have any in the first place, and take everyone on a trip to Disney.
However, if you have all these things, and still feel a sense of loneliness, confusion, and fear, along with all the emotional, and sometimes physical symptoms of life, then you may disagree. Wealthy or not, humans are made to hurt. No human is made to never be sad, but some humans are made to never be happy. Whether there is a fair and right reason for this, that is not the issue. The point I am making is, well, I don't know. I don't know if wealthy people understand unhappiness and suffering as others do. I don't know if it's equal. No one can understand the pain another person is going through. There is no equal or worse pain, there is simply pain and obstacles.
Personally, I don't feel any sympathy or empathy for those who disregard the pain of others. If you get by in life with the mantra that money isn't everything, there is no room for you to treat a "One-percenter" as if they are not human. That they are a different, heartless, cold species that doesn't get how hard it is to be you. Of course, this doesn't work for either side. You can donate to every cause in the world and I still may not respect you if you are doing it for the wrong reasons or partaking in a slave trade on the side. Or, if we learned anything from Plato's Republic, as we should have, we have no use for actions if there is no intention. Sometimes the actions are good enough, but typically, intention is a huge part of things! Huge.
And... this doesn't have much to do with my topic today. Well, it does, as, money certainly helps one be privileged. On the other hand, I don't have said money because I am caucasian. I have it because my parents are very intelligent and hardworking people. They came from the nether-regions of New York City and they worked their way into a new tax bracket.
If your grandparents or great-grandparents arrived to America from Neverheardofit, Pakistan, Dontcare, Mexico, or Weate Ourkidz, Russia; they definitely suffered. Woe is them! How they suffered.
Then, they had kids who worked hard and achieved "middle-class" status, despite their religion, gender, or background - believe it or not, growing up in the Depression as a Jewish (in my family's case) immigrant from Wemightaswellbedead, Austria, was no easy task.
So, these fine men and women all went on and had families. One kids, three kids... whatever it was, they had those kids and they made them live together; shoved into a one-bedroom apartment or studio like lox in airtight packaging.
These children went on to become doctors, lawyers, and engineers. Again, in my case, literally. Thus, money came into play. Money was not plentiful at first, but with a lot of hard work, dedication, and wacky tobaccy, (but not really. Or, maybe!) these kiddos became successful in their field(s) of choice and moved into the upper-middle class, or possibly even the upper-class. Ooh la la!
The next step was the tricky part, however. When these children grew up and achieved great things, they then had children of their own. Now, these children were in a difficult position. They were growing up with the luxuries of wealth and privilege, so where was "up"? They might be able to do better than their parents. They might make more money and have a fancier job title... but that would require twice the time, money, and effort. Plus, the more modest children would then feel like a spoiled, overly-ambitious copy of their parents.
They could do just as well as their parents, but that wouldn't be too interesting. Or, they could do less than their parents due to laziness, disinterest, fear, or self-doubt.
Not to mention, the years of being told, "You don't understand, your life is perfect. You have money..." pays its toll on a person's conscience. Depending on an individual's personality and experiences, money and success can really mess with one's head. Guilt may lay on one's shoulder like a sack of Moonpies filled with steel instead of cream, and result in depression, anxiety, self-loathing, and way too many cats named "Mitzy Boo Boo".
So, the real question here is, does money make the man? Can we assume someone's life is easier, happier, better... because they have money? Or, does it come with its own stressors, challenges, and not make living life any easier? My vote is "Yes."
Yes- having money means you can travel, eat well, buy gifts, go out, stay clean, maintain a little more safety in your life, pay bills... so on.
No- having money does not make you immune to diseases and disorders, lost friends, no friends, friend who take advantage of you, people who hurt you, stress, expectations, fears, anger, loss... so on.
If your entire life is defined by what you can pay for, or not pay for, (which is perfectly legitimate, as most things cost money) then, you may see the Yes. You may assume your life would be perfect if you could pay your mom's medical bills, buy your kids Christmas gifts, pay off your student loans, or not have any in the first place, and take everyone on a trip to Disney.
However, if you have all these things, and still feel a sense of loneliness, confusion, and fear, along with all the emotional, and sometimes physical symptoms of life, then you may disagree. Wealthy or not, humans are made to hurt. No human is made to never be sad, but some humans are made to never be happy. Whether there is a fair and right reason for this, that is not the issue. The point I am making is, well, I don't know. I don't know if wealthy people understand unhappiness and suffering as others do. I don't know if it's equal. No one can understand the pain another person is going through. There is no equal or worse pain, there is simply pain and obstacles.
Personally, I don't feel any sympathy or empathy for those who disregard the pain of others. If you get by in life with the mantra that money isn't everything, there is no room for you to treat a "One-percenter" as if they are not human. That they are a different, heartless, cold species that doesn't get how hard it is to be you. Of course, this doesn't work for either side. You can donate to every cause in the world and I still may not respect you if you are doing it for the wrong reasons or partaking in a slave trade on the side. Or, if we learned anything from Plato's Republic, as we should have, we have no use for actions if there is no intention. Sometimes the actions are good enough, but typically, intention is a huge part of things! Huge.
Friday, November 7, 2014
¡Viva México!
Let's talk Mexico, shall we? You know- tacos, sombreros, chihuahuas.
No.
Just, no.
However, this year's "huzzah" goes out to the citizens of Mexico. They've finally caught the fever. The revolution fever, and they are kicking their government in the groin!
"Why?", you ask? Let's discuss.
Forty days ago, forty-three Mexican college students disappeared. Yeah. Like, literally, just vanished! Now, one might say, "That's sad. That's terrible. how awful! But, protesting doesn't bring people home!"
True. It does not... directly. Just like guns don't kill people. Except, nothing like that. In this case, however, the saying is, "Protesting kidnappers doesn't help, but protesting a useless government may!"
Forty days later (and hereon,) tens of thousands of demonstrators are protesting in Mexico City. They are there demanding more action from federal authorities. These protestors are sick of the government corruption, and sick of the cooperation they have with the drug cartels that are overtaking their country and causing their people harm.
The popular chant they are repeating is, "They took them away alive, and alive we want them back."
The sad reality is, we don't know if they were alive when they took them, or if they still are at this point.
To put the situation into perspective, the federal authorities have reported 26,000 disappearances between 2006 and 2012 in Mexico. The causes of death and involvement with illegal activity was not mentioned.
This particular sad case began on September 26th. On this day, students from a teacher training college went and protested and raised funds. Later on, after police stopped the students, six people were found shot shot, and the 43 students were gone.
To add to this tragedy, while searching for the lost students, authorities have come across many mass graves with the remains of hundreds of unknown corpses.
No.
Just, no.
However, this year's "huzzah" goes out to the citizens of Mexico. They've finally caught the fever. The revolution fever, and they are kicking their government in the groin!
"Why?", you ask? Let's discuss.
Forty days ago, forty-three Mexican college students disappeared. Yeah. Like, literally, just vanished! Now, one might say, "That's sad. That's terrible. how awful! But, protesting doesn't bring people home!"
True. It does not... directly. Just like guns don't kill people. Except, nothing like that. In this case, however, the saying is, "Protesting kidnappers doesn't help, but protesting a useless government may!"
Forty days later (and hereon,) tens of thousands of demonstrators are protesting in Mexico City. They are there demanding more action from federal authorities. These protestors are sick of the government corruption, and sick of the cooperation they have with the drug cartels that are overtaking their country and causing their people harm.
The popular chant they are repeating is, "They took them away alive, and alive we want them back."
The sad reality is, we don't know if they were alive when they took them, or if they still are at this point.
To put the situation into perspective, the federal authorities have reported 26,000 disappearances between 2006 and 2012 in Mexico. The causes of death and involvement with illegal activity was not mentioned.
This particular sad case began on September 26th. On this day, students from a teacher training college went and protested and raised funds. Later on, after police stopped the students, six people were found shot shot, and the 43 students were gone.
To add to this tragedy, while searching for the lost students, authorities have come across many mass graves with the remains of hundreds of unknown corpses.
Yesterday, alongside Live Streamer and much-more-informed-than-me-activist, Matt Hopard (www.ustream.tv/stopmotionsolo) wandered uptown to one of these Mexico protests. Unfortunately, at this point, it was down to a small number of demonstrators. Maybe about 10-12 chanters were walking in circles within the limits of a tiny gated-off area. There were signs and chants, but not nearly as many people as there were in the past weeks. Cold weather, daily life, and less-than-enthusiastic passersby must dishearten these folks, but the brave few left still keep chanting and circling; like vultures eyeing below, their goals and dreams for a safer tomorrow. *dramatic exit music*
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Impressing the Ladies!
How to impress a girl (according to my date last night):
1. After trying to meet up for 3+ years, make sure you are 2 hours late to your first date. Now, I don't mean for work reasons or family issues or anything mature or responsible; I mean, you're showing up two hours late because you were getting drunk with your buddies. Oh, yeah...
2. Get drunk with your buddies beforehand. Not too much, so she can sense it and knows to run right away. No, no, just to that point where the two more drinks you have with her will send you over the edge. To the point where you are slurring, wobbling, and falling asleep as you speak.
3. Obviously, you should be falling asleep throughout the conversation. Which, might I mention, is understandable, since the conversation is incredibly dull. You're either pretending to listen, but not responding, talking about yourself (including, but not limited to, showing her pictures of yourself on your phone), or texting/chatting on your phone every 5 minutes. Along with the fact that you only have one passion in life. Only one thing you do in life. No time for hobbies or a life outside your artistic endeavor of choice. This will mean you have absolutely nothing to discuss. Because, you wouldn't show interest in her hobbies, after all.
4. Speaking of every 5 minutes, make sure to go to smoke or pee every 10-15 minutes. Hey, if she waited two hours for you already, I'm sure she'll be perfectly content waiting alone at the bar for you as you go across the street and buy a new pack, or a sandwich, or get married (as, you'll be gone ridiculously long....)
5. If you have a beard, and I do hope you have a beard, it'll be all kinds of scraggly and unruly. This way, when you take a swig of your bourbon, it will be soaked up by said beard. Then, when you insist on trying to kiss her every now and then, your beard will act effectively as a sponge and instead of your intended lips touching hers, your beard will squeegee out all the bourbon onto her face. This will leave her smelling cigarettes and beard bourbon (beardbon?) This is super attractive.
6. Finally, when she rejects your offer to either go home with her or take her home with you for the 8th or 9th time, you will them promptly check your phone and, coincidentally, your band mate will need you present immediately. Thus, you leave in a hurry, leaving enough money to cover your drinks (which you requested be the cheapest liquor they have available) and a 2 dollar tip, despite the bartender being a fan and complimenting your music, as well as offering to let you play at his bar sometime.
Follow these rules and your new lady friend will be chasing you around like a bloodhound on a fox's trail. Hot diggity dog!
And, hey, even if it doesn't work out, the bartender will remind you that you just weren't meant to be with a "4'3'' hairy and broke accordion player who showed up late and drunk." I guess it's not for everyone!
1. After trying to meet up for 3+ years, make sure you are 2 hours late to your first date. Now, I don't mean for work reasons or family issues or anything mature or responsible; I mean, you're showing up two hours late because you were getting drunk with your buddies. Oh, yeah...
2. Get drunk with your buddies beforehand. Not too much, so she can sense it and knows to run right away. No, no, just to that point where the two more drinks you have with her will send you over the edge. To the point where you are slurring, wobbling, and falling asleep as you speak.
3. Obviously, you should be falling asleep throughout the conversation. Which, might I mention, is understandable, since the conversation is incredibly dull. You're either pretending to listen, but not responding, talking about yourself (including, but not limited to, showing her pictures of yourself on your phone), or texting/chatting on your phone every 5 minutes. Along with the fact that you only have one passion in life. Only one thing you do in life. No time for hobbies or a life outside your artistic endeavor of choice. This will mean you have absolutely nothing to discuss. Because, you wouldn't show interest in her hobbies, after all.
4. Speaking of every 5 minutes, make sure to go to smoke or pee every 10-15 minutes. Hey, if she waited two hours for you already, I'm sure she'll be perfectly content waiting alone at the bar for you as you go across the street and buy a new pack, or a sandwich, or get married (as, you'll be gone ridiculously long....)
5. If you have a beard, and I do hope you have a beard, it'll be all kinds of scraggly and unruly. This way, when you take a swig of your bourbon, it will be soaked up by said beard. Then, when you insist on trying to kiss her every now and then, your beard will act effectively as a sponge and instead of your intended lips touching hers, your beard will squeegee out all the bourbon onto her face. This will leave her smelling cigarettes and beard bourbon (beardbon?) This is super attractive.
6. Finally, when she rejects your offer to either go home with her or take her home with you for the 8th or 9th time, you will them promptly check your phone and, coincidentally, your band mate will need you present immediately. Thus, you leave in a hurry, leaving enough money to cover your drinks (which you requested be the cheapest liquor they have available) and a 2 dollar tip, despite the bartender being a fan and complimenting your music, as well as offering to let you play at his bar sometime.
Follow these rules and your new lady friend will be chasing you around like a bloodhound on a fox's trail. Hot diggity dog!
And, hey, even if it doesn't work out, the bartender will remind you that you just weren't meant to be with a "4'3'' hairy and broke accordion player who showed up late and drunk." I guess it's not for everyone!
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Step One in Life
Being organized is important. This is because, if you aren't organized, and you're just frazzle and absent-minded, you look like an idiot. I should know; I'm an idiot, after all. However, I am a fairly organized idiot. You can be, too! So, how about we discuss HOW to be organized? After all, research, and every person with a 1st graders education, knows that people who are disorganized are negatively affecting their mental well-being. True fact! Chaos around you represents chaos within you. Now, I don't know if a wacky mind leads to a wacky home, or visa versa, but I'm going to assume it's a two-way road. Just avoid all the wreckage and get yourself together.
1. Get a calendar, you animal! What is wrong with you? How do you even remember to breathe? A calendar is the most essential item you could possibly possess. I am ashamed to even call you a human being. There's a calendar in your phone, on your computer, on your tablet, and they sell adorable calendars with puppies on each page. They're practically bursting out of your spleen, you have so many options!
Every adult whose head has never been kicked by a horse should use a calendar or notepad or write on their hand. Because, you moron, remembering stuff can be difficult. Because, you imbecile, you're going to complain that you forgot or are late because you didn't write it down. Let's fix that now, and just maybe, one day, someone will like you. Go get one.
You sicken me.
2. Put things back. This should be the most obvious and clean-cut rule. If you turn on a light; or a faucet; or use your keys; or put your child somewhere; or put your butcher knife in someone's body, after you're done, put it back where it belongs. Turn off the light or faucet, put your keys on a rack, put your child and butcher knife back to bed. I realize this is a complex concept for some of you zombie-esque lead-munchers, but today's lesson is going to reinforce ideas that your goldfish could have told you. I know you're lazy, though, so, when you get home, putting your umbrella in the stand is not your first wish. Either, stop being lazy (those love handles won't tighten themselves) or write it down. Where, you ask? HEY! Look at step one! Funny, that.
3. Create folders. Whether it's a physical folder that you label or a box or a file on your computer, make it happen. Because you are retarded, you will lose track of where you put important papers. The good news is, this isn't the year 1500, we have places for papers. We have folders that hold papers. We have binders and cardboard boxes and 2-pocket folders with pictures of ponies and sparkly lizards on them! If it's a folder on your computer's desktop, you have the potential to be SO organized.
Files:
1- 2014
2- December
3- Office Party
4- Photos of you crying under your work desk with a bottle of peach Schnapps in one hand and a picture of your dead mother in the other.
The photos of your mother's funeral will go under:
2014 - October - Funeral - "She never loved me"
But she probably didn't love you because you always left the kitchen light on.
4. Give things order. Not that everything you own has to be in alphabetical order based on colour, but some control is very important. The organization of your things represents the only bit of sanity left in you. So, don't mess this up, you psycho.
Organizing a drawer, or closet, or stack of stuff is much like the aforementioned file and folder thing. You start broad and then get more specific. If you have 5 drawers, you can fix things up by size. Undies on top, then shirts and skirts, then extras, like sweaters, and then pants and dresses. Or, go by season, how often you wear the things, or, yes, even colour is acceptable. Though, I imagine there will be much more of some colours than others. In your case, I bet there's a lot of black.
If your drawer then overfloweth, you should try to designate a special spot for the stuff you probably won't be wearing everyday (or sell/donate these things!) Because you're a privileged and spoiled individual.
This brings me to step 5!
5. Chuck it! I know how much you loved your best friend's ex, and you planned on them getting married and making you the best man and the maid of honour, but you seriously have to throw out that custom "Best Person of Honour" badge you bought. It cost you $5 on Ebay and no one wants to see it on your wall when they enter your home. Learn to say, "Goodbye!" The same way you said it to that guy you accidentally ran over and then ditched behind a garbage dump two summers ago. Your secret is safe.
Things seem like they will eventually become useful or cool or have their time to shine, but they won't. Things get old and useless. You'll experience that one day. For now, just get a sane friend to come over (we're assuming you have one of these from camp as a child, when everyone was mean to you, so the camp forced another child to be your friend. After 4 years of this, she felt weird ditching you, so she stuck around), pick things up and let them decide for you whether it's a 'Keep' or 'Chuck'. Don't argue. Don't rationalize. DO IT. It will hurt, but so will being a hoarder with 16 cats.
I think that's everything. If you're not completely useless, you can use these hints and apply them to other things and whatever. I don't care what you do.
1. Get a calendar, you animal! What is wrong with you? How do you even remember to breathe? A calendar is the most essential item you could possibly possess. I am ashamed to even call you a human being. There's a calendar in your phone, on your computer, on your tablet, and they sell adorable calendars with puppies on each page. They're practically bursting out of your spleen, you have so many options!
Every adult whose head has never been kicked by a horse should use a calendar or notepad or write on their hand. Because, you moron, remembering stuff can be difficult. Because, you imbecile, you're going to complain that you forgot or are late because you didn't write it down. Let's fix that now, and just maybe, one day, someone will like you. Go get one.
You sicken me.
2. Put things back. This should be the most obvious and clean-cut rule. If you turn on a light; or a faucet; or use your keys; or put your child somewhere; or put your butcher knife in someone's body, after you're done, put it back where it belongs. Turn off the light or faucet, put your keys on a rack, put your child and butcher knife back to bed. I realize this is a complex concept for some of you zombie-esque lead-munchers, but today's lesson is going to reinforce ideas that your goldfish could have told you. I know you're lazy, though, so, when you get home, putting your umbrella in the stand is not your first wish. Either, stop being lazy (those love handles won't tighten themselves) or write it down. Where, you ask? HEY! Look at step one! Funny, that.
3. Create folders. Whether it's a physical folder that you label or a box or a file on your computer, make it happen. Because you are retarded, you will lose track of where you put important papers. The good news is, this isn't the year 1500, we have places for papers. We have folders that hold papers. We have binders and cardboard boxes and 2-pocket folders with pictures of ponies and sparkly lizards on them! If it's a folder on your computer's desktop, you have the potential to be SO organized.
Files:
1- 2014
2- December
3- Office Party
4- Photos of you crying under your work desk with a bottle of peach Schnapps in one hand and a picture of your dead mother in the other.
The photos of your mother's funeral will go under:
2014 - October - Funeral - "She never loved me"
But she probably didn't love you because you always left the kitchen light on.
4. Give things order. Not that everything you own has to be in alphabetical order based on colour, but some control is very important. The organization of your things represents the only bit of sanity left in you. So, don't mess this up, you psycho.
Organizing a drawer, or closet, or stack of stuff is much like the aforementioned file and folder thing. You start broad and then get more specific. If you have 5 drawers, you can fix things up by size. Undies on top, then shirts and skirts, then extras, like sweaters, and then pants and dresses. Or, go by season, how often you wear the things, or, yes, even colour is acceptable. Though, I imagine there will be much more of some colours than others. In your case, I bet there's a lot of black.
If your drawer then overfloweth, you should try to designate a special spot for the stuff you probably won't be wearing everyday (or sell/donate these things!) Because you're a privileged and spoiled individual.
This brings me to step 5!
5. Chuck it! I know how much you loved your best friend's ex, and you planned on them getting married and making you the best man and the maid of honour, but you seriously have to throw out that custom "Best Person of Honour" badge you bought. It cost you $5 on Ebay and no one wants to see it on your wall when they enter your home. Learn to say, "Goodbye!" The same way you said it to that guy you accidentally ran over and then ditched behind a garbage dump two summers ago. Your secret is safe.
Things seem like they will eventually become useful or cool or have their time to shine, but they won't. Things get old and useless. You'll experience that one day. For now, just get a sane friend to come over (we're assuming you have one of these from camp as a child, when everyone was mean to you, so the camp forced another child to be your friend. After 4 years of this, she felt weird ditching you, so she stuck around), pick things up and let them decide for you whether it's a 'Keep' or 'Chuck'. Don't argue. Don't rationalize. DO IT. It will hurt, but so will being a hoarder with 16 cats.
I think that's everything. If you're not completely useless, you can use these hints and apply them to other things and whatever. I don't care what you do.
Monday, October 20, 2014
Veeeery Interesting!
"Here come da judge! Here come da judge!" - Sammy Davis Jr.
Self-fulfilling prophecy; that's a phrase you hear too often, isn't it? It is. Rarely when it's accurate, though. It's not usually applied in the time and place it is supposed to be in. It isn't.
Yet, the truest application is always around us. It's going on practically constantly and everyone's too busy with their own busy to notice!
Kids, why do you think your Type-A daddy drinks a- wait- why don't they sell beer in milk cartons?? Who would be more likely to find a runaway teenage girl than the drunk down the street with his torn carton o' booze?
That's not what I was discussing, though, was it? It was not. The reason your daddy drinks a keg of milk everyday is because he's miserable, kids.
Okay, yes, that's a big part of it. Alcoholism covers a lot of underlying issues. Okay, okay. How about this? The 16 year old girl who is top of her class and is about to graduate high school and proceed to go to college at Geniusbutt University. She walks in confidently; belt on pants, hand on boots, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth... and she swigs her weed stick!! *brainsplosion* WHY!? Why are you ruining your life, honey? Your future! Your friends! Your kitten! Your teeth! They're going to be all yellowish! ew.
Well. Tell me, if she fails her first semester, what will she blame? Who will she blame? Her friends for being bad influences? Her parents for pressuring her? Herself for not being smart enough or not being ready? Or, will she blame the pots?
The pots can't defend themselves. Most people already have their prejudices. So, the pots will get blamed, if she tells her parents, she'll get in trouble, BUT, no one will think her a failure or a dummy, just another victim of the Mary J. Bli-jane. After some lecturing and finger-wagging, she'll go back to the comfort of her parents' arms and escape the scary Geniusbutt U. for a little longer.
Now, was this self-fulfilling in that she wished it and so it came to be, or that she wanted it, and therefore, unconsciously caused it to occur?
Did she protect her butt? Hey, she had it good: either, she'd pass nonetheless and be a potman hero OR she's get out school without blaming herself or feeling a loss of dignity. Not quite as large of one, at least.
Unborn pair
Self-fulfilling prophecy; that's a phrase you hear too often, isn't it? It is. Rarely when it's accurate, though. It's not usually applied in the time and place it is supposed to be in. It isn't.
Yet, the truest application is always around us. It's going on practically constantly and everyone's too busy with their own busy to notice!
Kids, why do you think your Type-A daddy drinks a- wait- why don't they sell beer in milk cartons?? Who would be more likely to find a runaway teenage girl than the drunk down the street with his torn carton o' booze?
That's not what I was discussing, though, was it? It was not. The reason your daddy drinks a keg of milk everyday is because he's miserable, kids.
Okay, yes, that's a big part of it. Alcoholism covers a lot of underlying issues. Okay, okay. How about this? The 16 year old girl who is top of her class and is about to graduate high school and proceed to go to college at Geniusbutt University. She walks in confidently; belt on pants, hand on boots, eyes, ears, nose, and mouth... and she swigs her weed stick!! *brainsplosion* WHY!? Why are you ruining your life, honey? Your future! Your friends! Your kitten! Your teeth! They're going to be all yellowish! ew.
Well. Tell me, if she fails her first semester, what will she blame? Who will she blame? Her friends for being bad influences? Her parents for pressuring her? Herself for not being smart enough or not being ready? Or, will she blame the pots?
The pots can't defend themselves. Most people already have their prejudices. So, the pots will get blamed, if she tells her parents, she'll get in trouble, BUT, no one will think her a failure or a dummy, just another victim of the Mary J. Bli-jane. After some lecturing and finger-wagging, she'll go back to the comfort of her parents' arms and escape the scary Geniusbutt U. for a little longer.
Now, was this self-fulfilling in that she wished it and so it came to be, or that she wanted it, and therefore, unconsciously caused it to occur?
Did she protect her butt? Hey, she had it good: either, she'd pass nonetheless and be a potman hero OR she's get out school without blaming herself or feeling a loss of dignity. Not quite as large of one, at least.
Unborn pair
Saturday, October 18, 2014
You're a pain in the colon!
Actually, the doctor says my pain comes from my stomach. Though, that was simply based on a push-and-go method. You know, she put pressure around my abdomen and asked where it felt tender or painful. The painful area was around the stomach. So, there you go. Stomach cancer... or ulcers, I suppose. Maybe just my diet. But I'm going to assume tumours, unless otherwise informed. Makes things sound more exciting.
I was asked if I could write a description of my pain and woes as a blog. For the most part, I avoid discussing physical pain, as we all have some sort, and in the bigger picture, it's usually not a huge deal. I guess my stomach pains are the most I've ever been affected by a physical pain, though. This also forces me to talk exclusively about myself, which may have been the idea. In which case, boo on you.
Just because I am stubborn, I will aim to distance this blog about MY pain from ME as much as possible.
First of all, let's discuss the different symptoms of all those thingies I mentioned....
1 - Stomach cancer :
In the early stages of stomach cancer, you may have:
Indigestion and stomach discomfort
A bloated feeling after eating
Mild nausea
Loss of appetite
Heartburn
In more advanced cancer, you may have:
Discomfort in the upper or middle part of the abdomen.
Blood in the stool
Vomiting or vomiting blood.
Weight loss.
Pain or bloating in the stomach after eating.
Weakness or fatigue associated with mild anemia
Chances I have stomach cancer: Pretty much, no chance. It's typically found in Japanese coal-mining men over 70 with a family history.
Last I checked, none of those apply to me. BUT, the early symptoms sound very familiar!
2- Ulcers :
A gnawing or burning pain in the middle or upper stomach between meals or at night
Bloating
Heartburn
Nausea or vomiting
In severe cases, symptoms can include:
Dark or black stool (due to bleeding)
Vomiting blood (that can look like "coffee-grounds")
Weight loss
Severe pain in the mid to upper abdomen
Chances I have ulcers: Fairly high, since it runs in my family. However, I tried the medication, and it did nothing. But ulcers are common in Ashkenazi Jews, as is Crohn's and, well, pretty much any stomach issue.
3- Crohn's disease :
Diarrhea.
Fever and fatigue.
Abdominal pain and cramping.
Blood in your stool.
Mouth sores.
Reduced appetite and weight loss.
Perianal disease.
People with severe Crohn's disease may also experience:
Inflammation of skin, eyes and joints
Inflammation of the liver or bile ducts
Delayed growth or sexual development, in children
Chances I have Crohn's: Fairly low, since the pain would not stem from the stomach, as mine does. However, the pain test was not very scientific, so who knows what we'll find. The benefit of Crohn's is that, though there is no cure, there are treatments and, like, sympathy. If I just have IBS, no one cares and there's nothing I could do about it.
4- IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) :
Abdominal pain or cramping
A bloated feeling
Gas
Diarrhea or constipation
Mucus in the stool
Chances I have IBS: Middle of the road. I have been informally diagnosed with it before without tests or anything. The doctor just said it's probably the issue. Although, mucus in the stool sounds like the most horrifying thing in the world. I never want to know what that looks like. That is probably the worst thought a human (or body) could conceive of. "Hey, let's just take the two most disgusting human things, put them together, and inflict it on someone." Now, this could very well be my issue, but, as I said, it's just as painful as the other stuff, so I may as well have something unpleasant but treatable!
There are probably other options out there, but these are the four usual suspects. It's funny, I am NOT the type to go to the doctor. I rarely went as a kid, and I just never felt things were bad enough or worth the time. However, I've had to run to the hospital for this pain, I've canceled a million plans because of this pain (though, no one ever believes that excuse), and it's become very difficult to focus in class or on work when I am going through the pains, so, I knew it was time to deal with it. Of course, it's taking forever, but it's better than not bothering at all!
I guess one thing I've gained from my stomach issues is the ability to focus on everything I do. I no longer take my healthy days for granted. They've become uncommon, so when I am not in pain, I make sure I get out of the house and go somewhere interesting and fun. I also always know what I'm eating, how fast I'm eating, and I'm very conscious of what hurts and what helps. Or, I try to be. It can be hard to tell. Not to mention, I'm really good at falling asleep on the bathroom floor. Ya know, because sometimes the time is NOW, and you do not want to be in the wrong room.
While whatever I am dealing with is not the worst affliction ever, it does affect me and it does affect my life, so, of course, my answer is, JOKES! That's what I do. It's not everyone's first choice. And, I try to be appropriate about things, particularly since I blush easily. But sometimes the only way to get through a rough night is to joke about it.
One day there will be a movie:
There are two lovers lying under the stars, looking deep into each other's eyes, the lighting is perfect, the temperature is perfect, the moment is perfect... and then she doubles-over in pain and runs to the bathroom for half an hour. She comes skipping in afterwards and giggles, "I need to borrow a pair of pants, babe."
Or....
Our heroine is exploring the forest with knife in hand. She's ready to fight anyone or anything that comes along. Suddenly, her stomach starts gurgling. "Not now!" she whispers.
On she goes. Seeking out Dr. Badguy. Killing snakes and bears and whales along the way. Then her stomach gurgles and growls again.
"Oh, no."
She runs and runs, trying to find her way to the end of the forest. She can't be caught pants down, she can't be found so vulnerable. She runs, and then walks and tries to remain calm. She's now waddling. She's now holding back a single tear that has formed from squeezing her buttocks so tight. Then she sees it; a heavenly and divine bush to crouch behind. She jumps behind it and finds sweet relief. That is, until she looks beside her and sees her foot sliding down towards 30 feet below, where there is a running stream. Pushing herself out of the slipping dirt patch, she jumps back out. Nearly having broken an arm or leg or her neck, she realizes, she hadn't made it entirely in time. She runs back home, finds her mother, and giggles, "I need to borrow a pair of pants, mom."
I was asked if I could write a description of my pain and woes as a blog. For the most part, I avoid discussing physical pain, as we all have some sort, and in the bigger picture, it's usually not a huge deal. I guess my stomach pains are the most I've ever been affected by a physical pain, though. This also forces me to talk exclusively about myself, which may have been the idea. In which case, boo on you.
Just because I am stubborn, I will aim to distance this blog about MY pain from ME as much as possible.
First of all, let's discuss the different symptoms of all those thingies I mentioned....
1 - Stomach cancer :
In the early stages of stomach cancer, you may have:
Indigestion and stomach discomfort
A bloated feeling after eating
Mild nausea
Loss of appetite
Heartburn
In more advanced cancer, you may have:
Discomfort in the upper or middle part of the abdomen.
Blood in the stool
Vomiting or vomiting blood.
Weight loss.
Pain or bloating in the stomach after eating.
Weakness or fatigue associated with mild anemia
Chances I have stomach cancer: Pretty much, no chance. It's typically found in Japanese coal-mining men over 70 with a family history.
Last I checked, none of those apply to me. BUT, the early symptoms sound very familiar!
2- Ulcers :
A gnawing or burning pain in the middle or upper stomach between meals or at night
Bloating
Heartburn
Nausea or vomiting
In severe cases, symptoms can include:
Dark or black stool (due to bleeding)
Vomiting blood (that can look like "coffee-grounds")
Weight loss
Severe pain in the mid to upper abdomen
Chances I have ulcers: Fairly high, since it runs in my family. However, I tried the medication, and it did nothing. But ulcers are common in Ashkenazi Jews, as is Crohn's and, well, pretty much any stomach issue.
3- Crohn's disease :
Diarrhea.
Fever and fatigue.
Abdominal pain and cramping.
Blood in your stool.
Mouth sores.
Reduced appetite and weight loss.
Perianal disease.
People with severe Crohn's disease may also experience:
Inflammation of skin, eyes and joints
Inflammation of the liver or bile ducts
Delayed growth or sexual development, in children
Chances I have Crohn's: Fairly low, since the pain would not stem from the stomach, as mine does. However, the pain test was not very scientific, so who knows what we'll find. The benefit of Crohn's is that, though there is no cure, there are treatments and, like, sympathy. If I just have IBS, no one cares and there's nothing I could do about it.
4- IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) :
Abdominal pain or cramping
A bloated feeling
Gas
Diarrhea or constipation
Mucus in the stool
Chances I have IBS: Middle of the road. I have been informally diagnosed with it before without tests or anything. The doctor just said it's probably the issue. Although, mucus in the stool sounds like the most horrifying thing in the world. I never want to know what that looks like. That is probably the worst thought a human (or body) could conceive of. "Hey, let's just take the two most disgusting human things, put them together, and inflict it on someone." Now, this could very well be my issue, but, as I said, it's just as painful as the other stuff, so I may as well have something unpleasant but treatable!
There are probably other options out there, but these are the four usual suspects. It's funny, I am NOT the type to go to the doctor. I rarely went as a kid, and I just never felt things were bad enough or worth the time. However, I've had to run to the hospital for this pain, I've canceled a million plans because of this pain (though, no one ever believes that excuse), and it's become very difficult to focus in class or on work when I am going through the pains, so, I knew it was time to deal with it. Of course, it's taking forever, but it's better than not bothering at all!
I guess one thing I've gained from my stomach issues is the ability to focus on everything I do. I no longer take my healthy days for granted. They've become uncommon, so when I am not in pain, I make sure I get out of the house and go somewhere interesting and fun. I also always know what I'm eating, how fast I'm eating, and I'm very conscious of what hurts and what helps. Or, I try to be. It can be hard to tell. Not to mention, I'm really good at falling asleep on the bathroom floor. Ya know, because sometimes the time is NOW, and you do not want to be in the wrong room.
While whatever I am dealing with is not the worst affliction ever, it does affect me and it does affect my life, so, of course, my answer is, JOKES! That's what I do. It's not everyone's first choice. And, I try to be appropriate about things, particularly since I blush easily. But sometimes the only way to get through a rough night is to joke about it.
One day there will be a movie:
There are two lovers lying under the stars, looking deep into each other's eyes, the lighting is perfect, the temperature is perfect, the moment is perfect... and then she doubles-over in pain and runs to the bathroom for half an hour. She comes skipping in afterwards and giggles, "I need to borrow a pair of pants, babe."
Or....
Our heroine is exploring the forest with knife in hand. She's ready to fight anyone or anything that comes along. Suddenly, her stomach starts gurgling. "Not now!" she whispers.
On she goes. Seeking out Dr. Badguy. Killing snakes and bears and whales along the way. Then her stomach gurgles and growls again.
"Oh, no."
She runs and runs, trying to find her way to the end of the forest. She can't be caught pants down, she can't be found so vulnerable. She runs, and then walks and tries to remain calm. She's now waddling. She's now holding back a single tear that has formed from squeezing her buttocks so tight. Then she sees it; a heavenly and divine bush to crouch behind. She jumps behind it and finds sweet relief. That is, until she looks beside her and sees her foot sliding down towards 30 feet below, where there is a running stream. Pushing herself out of the slipping dirt patch, she jumps back out. Nearly having broken an arm or leg or her neck, she realizes, she hadn't made it entirely in time. She runs back home, finds her mother, and giggles, "I need to borrow a pair of pants, mom."
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