Hi, I was just wondering why everyone makes such a deal about the band 'Brokencyde'? I, personally, love the band. And, of course, I know that many people don't. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but I just don't understand why everyone ridicule and degrade them so badly. I just find it cruel. They don't rape, kill or anything.. they just produce music for our entertainment. Why can't these people just back off? It's downright disrespectful.. and frankly over the top. Haters threatening to boycott the band if they play at the warp tour? Death threats? The insults are just horrendous. Everyone's different. Some like screamo, some like pop, classical, rock, etc. Some people think music is useless and a waste of time. So stating your opinion (i.e. Brokencyde sucks, they have no talent) and passing it off as FACT is just stupidity. What's with all the hate? Isn't hate the reason for suicide, depression, war, etc? Isn't it the reason for Michael Jackson's death? I know for sure that hate is the reason for my depression and my sister's death.
I'd like to hear what you have to say to all this. --S.L.
Dear S.L.,
Thanks for giving me some room to work with on this one. If it was just another question about that band, I wouldn't have even bothered to answer it, but you were good enough to have more than just that to say, so thank you for it.
Should I assume that you read my previous entry regarding Brokencyde? To summarize, I was asked why a man in his early thirties might enjoy their music, and further, what my thoughts on the band were. Needless to say, I'm not a fan, and while I did withhold from unloading hate from both barrels, so to speak, I posited that part of the band's appeal to their audience is the polarizing power of hate-- that the band shrewdly exploits this in order to better market their music, by making themselves targets of the uncensored hate all over the internet here.
It's great (for you) that you love them, but there are plenty of folks out there who just find the music terrible, or the fashion sense deplorable, etc, considering it mere fodder for the lowest common denominator, whatever. But I think your question has more to do with hate than it does Brokencyde, am I right?
Here's the thing about hate and the internet: the internet gives everyone a voice, regardless of message, spelling/grammar skills, presumptive social values, or purpose. Have you ever read the comments section on any youtube page? ESPECIALLY the popular ones. Pick one. Any. For every "oh dude that's awesome" or "OMG i <3 ____'s (music/face/body/whatever) so much!!!!!111!!!," there are plenty of barely articulate rants and gibes, as rife with spite as spelling errors, and all about as necessary as a condom in a convent. It's everywhere. Visit your favorite websites, especially ones where the content has a comments section-- same rules apply. Maybe it's moderated, maybe it isn't-- but if it's not, you can bet your ass it's full of serious garbage.
And why is that? Why do people find the need to vent like that? It's easy-- because people CAN vent like that. Any public forum, unmoderated, if visited enough, will ultimately degrade to the worst of things, because the anonymity of the internet makes it easy. Some people do it because it's funny-- and you know what? Sometimes, it is funny-- especially if it's well-crafted. There are entire websites out there dedicated solely to cutting down things that the authors of the sites despise. Personally, I can get behind that, because I believe speech SHOULD be free and uncensored. I'm willing to put up with the bullshit to be able to say whatever I want to say. Yes, it does sometimes get out of hand, and yes, that's a shame, but these are the risks we as a society have decided to accept in favor of being able to say and think whatever we want.
I could sit here right now and tell you why I think the band Coldplay is God's way of punishing us for NOT executing the members of U2 (for the crime of continuing to put out increasingly terrible records after blowing their collective wad on their artistic zenith in "Achtung Baby"), and I could think of all sorts of clever metaphors. I could use the phrase "languish forever, consigned to the horse-phallus forced-sodomy ring of hell." I might think that was funny, and you know what? I probably have some friends and readers who would laugh, as well. Does that make me right, or just an opinionated asshole? Does it matter? I'm making use of my freedom to speak as I will.
But obviously, there's more to it than that. And there's a difference between internet hate and legitimate, real-life hate. The difference is, people aren't killing people because someone calls your favorite band a bunch of diarrhea-flavored eunuchs. You could write a blog criticizing Brokencyde, for example, and not a single member of that band is going to dive into the Grand Canyon. I'll concur with you far enough to say that "hate" gets out of hand on the internet, but there's personal hate, and then there's spitting for spit's sake.
Hate, internet or otherwise, didn't kill Michael Jackson-- pills killed Michael Jackson. A hard life killed Michael Jackson, and a few decades of bad choices. Personally, for the record, I think he did some fucked-up shit, made a mess of his life, and is probably better off now, but it wasn't bloggers, comment-section ninjas, or internet trolls that killed him. Personal responsibility, you know?
Now, I won't say that NO ONE has ever been killed or driven to suicide by harassment on the internet or even in real life. I won't say that no one has ever cried from some hurtful words, virtual or spoken. I'd go far enough as to say that there are plenty of people who suffer from depression, and getting picked on or hated on, regardless of venue, is a serious problem. I won't offer to excuse the behavior of bullies and assholes-- even when I've been a bully or an asshole. What I will, and emphatically, here, state, is that people suck. Always have, always will. You can't change that, and you can't stop it. Let me tell you, I've tried. It doesn't work, at least not until my Empathy Bomb (patent pending) goes off and teaches the world the real price of every action.
So what can you do? The same thing anyone can. If you can't change the world, you have to be strong enough in yourself to stand against it. Keep things in perspective. You're articulate enough to ask an intelligent question, so I'm sure you're smart enough to realize that there's nothing anyone can SAY to you that, as mere words, will actually alter the fundamental nature of who you are-- unless you choose to let it affect you. Your skin is as thick as you choose. Someone could make fun of you for liking Brokencyde, or the Twilight books, dogs over cats, or McDonald's cheeseburgers or Jesus or the color orange-- but does that make you any less than who you are? People say shit to me ALL THE TIME, because I have a tendency to make myself a target by being free with my opinions. I don't mind admitting that I hate things you may like, or like things you may hate-- but I don't care what your opinion is about it. If you like something I do, or something about me? Awesome. That's cool. It won't make me be your friend, though-- you have to earn that by less superficial means. By the same token, do you hate MY favorite bands? The music I write? This blog? The color of my hair, my cat, my blue eyes, my ethnic heritage, or how clean I keep my toilet? I don't care. Hell, you can hate me PERSONALLY, and it doesn't really affect me because I choose not to let it do so. That's your watch, not mine. If you live your life based on what other people think or believe, you're going to be sad. There's enough sadness and strife in one life that there's hardly any reason to start adding to the pile, you know?
I don't know what factors in your life are tearing you down or making you depressed, but I'm willing to bet that you have the power, inside you already, to be better and stronger than that, or to get whatever help you need to take charge of your life. Seriously.
I don't know if this was the answer you were looking for, but I hope it helps, one way or another. Take care of yourself.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
Monday, October 26, 2009
Orange Juice? or....?
Doctor:
What kind of person throws a half full gallon of orange juice out on the highway? I saw this around 8:30 am today on 75 North and felt curious. I have some ideas....
A) The type of person that would take a bite out of a burrito and chuck it out a car window on the highway because "it is filling".
B) Someone on a serious acid binge.
C) Some kind of douchebag that is not satisfied with ordering a large orange juice with his McGriddle.
What do you think?
--Stupefied on 75
Dear Stupefied,
Those are all excellent possibilities. Finding items in strange places does set the mind to wandering. I once found half of a Taco Bell burrito in a dressing room at Macy's, for example, and thought "you could wait long enough to go from Taco Bell to the mall, and on into Macy's, before you started eating, but you couldn't wait until you were done trying on clothes?" My immediate hypothesis there was something along the order of some strange nigh-superhuman, whose metabolism runs well faster than anyone's ever should-- and thus must consume food in strange places and in strange amounts.
Regarding your orange juice conundrum, I could of course speculate, but instead will regale you with an instance from my own personal life that might shed another sort of light on the matter. As many of my readers know, I'm also a musician-- and during various times in my life, must travel for my art. In younger years, I've spent that time in a van, with a group of whatever gentlemen I'd enlisted to my cause in the context of a van. What many people may not realize, is that guys travelling and sleeping in a van may not always be the most mature or well-mannered, and that the rules and customs of the road are not always the rules and customs of civilized people.
My story, which I assure you will rapidly become relevant, begins with one of the many amusements with which we would wile away empty hours. It was a game with no name, and only one implement-- an egg. Just a plain, ordinary egg, which made its way into our van through a complicated series of dares and bets, but became the focus of several hundred miles of the American Midwest. The rules of the game were simple: if you had the egg, you had to pass it off to someone else, without them realizing it. Break the egg, and you lose-- be the one to place the egg last, and you win. *PROTIP: If you want to play this game at home, drawing faces, phalluses, the Batman logo, or the profanity of your choice on the shell of the egg is OPTIONAL.
During the course of this travel, the egg aged and passed many ordeals-- being hidden in pockets, hoodies, shoes, lunchbags, and hats. Unfortunately for me, it came to its final resting place in my pillow. I discovered it upon laying down to rest, somewhere east of Cleveland, it being my night to be too drunk to drive the van. Of course I felt the strange sensation of the well-placed object, under my pillowcase yet above the pillow, as my heavy and heavily-intoxicated head came to break it, but I was too tired to care. In fact, it was the complaints of my bandmates, who could not abide the stench, that awoke me and alerted me to the issue, an hour or so later... when we pulled over to throw the pillow out in a gas station trashcan. Unfortunately, I realized that my hair now smelled of the distinctive sulfur of rotten egg.
Instantly sober and stinking to the high heavens, I vowed my bitter revenge. And, in the custom of Young Men Travelling in Band Vans Across States, it was to be vulgar in its own right.
We went inside to gather supplies, including sodas for the trip and ice for the cooler. Only two of us were Mountain Dew drinkers (one being myself, and the other being the winner of the egg game). This, I would use to my advantage. Procuring two Mountain Dew BIG SLAMS (the one liter-size, a term no longer used on the packaging, but familiar to many), one for myself and one for my quarry, my trap was soon to be set.
Once back in the van, I neglected to go back to sleep, but rather to drink every drop of my soda right then and there. I concealed this fact from my quarry (who was fast asleep in the passenger seat, and due to take over driving in a few hours), keeping the empty close by me. Now, per the customs of the road, had I not finished mine, I was to write my name on it, before slipping it in the cooler. I did neither. In fact, I took my quarry's soda from the cooler and drank a couple gulps of it, wrote my name on it, and put it back in the cooler.
I didn't sleep for the next long while. I used the time, instead, to void my bladder into the empty Mountain Dew bottle-- first a couple of long, tiresome "beer pisses" and then the logical outcome of guzzling an entire liter of Mountain Dew in a matter of minutes. The bottle, unsurprisingly, was nearly full, and thanks to the green color of the bottle, wasn't that far off from what one might expect to see. I wrote my quarry's name on the bottle, placed it in the cooler, and went to sleep.
***Editorial note: For the record, urinating in a plastic bottle while on the road may SEEM vulgar, but if you think it is, you've never traveled long distances overland with males, where the rule of the road is, always, that the strongest bladder is the one calling the "piss stop."***
Some time later, we pulled over to change spots-- my quarry in the driver's seat, myself in the passenger, the rest of our part in the back. Of course, the quarry instantly wanted to crack open his Dew to get started, and thanks to the cooler, it was nice and cold for him. Ice cold, like the revenge I was to have.
It took exactly one deep, thirsty guzzle before he spat most of his "soda" all over himself before closing the bottle and throwing it out the window. "Fucking awful, I must have gotten a bad one," he would splutter later, never once knowing what he had willingly taken into his body. To this day, he doesn't know, and in the off-chance he's reading this, I've spared his name.
Did someone later, though, wonder why an almost completely full bottle of Mountain Dew was discarded? Did someone, perhaps, years later, pull a similar prank with a gallon of orange juice?
We may never know. I hope this has helped you.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
What kind of person throws a half full gallon of orange juice out on the highway? I saw this around 8:30 am today on 75 North and felt curious. I have some ideas....
A) The type of person that would take a bite out of a burrito and chuck it out a car window on the highway because "it is filling".
B) Someone on a serious acid binge.
C) Some kind of douchebag that is not satisfied with ordering a large orange juice with his McGriddle.
What do you think?
--Stupefied on 75
Dear Stupefied,
Those are all excellent possibilities. Finding items in strange places does set the mind to wandering. I once found half of a Taco Bell burrito in a dressing room at Macy's, for example, and thought "you could wait long enough to go from Taco Bell to the mall, and on into Macy's, before you started eating, but you couldn't wait until you were done trying on clothes?" My immediate hypothesis there was something along the order of some strange nigh-superhuman, whose metabolism runs well faster than anyone's ever should-- and thus must consume food in strange places and in strange amounts.
Regarding your orange juice conundrum, I could of course speculate, but instead will regale you with an instance from my own personal life that might shed another sort of light on the matter. As many of my readers know, I'm also a musician-- and during various times in my life, must travel for my art. In younger years, I've spent that time in a van, with a group of whatever gentlemen I'd enlisted to my cause in the context of a van. What many people may not realize, is that guys travelling and sleeping in a van may not always be the most mature or well-mannered, and that the rules and customs of the road are not always the rules and customs of civilized people.
My story, which I assure you will rapidly become relevant, begins with one of the many amusements with which we would wile away empty hours. It was a game with no name, and only one implement-- an egg. Just a plain, ordinary egg, which made its way into our van through a complicated series of dares and bets, but became the focus of several hundred miles of the American Midwest. The rules of the game were simple: if you had the egg, you had to pass it off to someone else, without them realizing it. Break the egg, and you lose-- be the one to place the egg last, and you win. *PROTIP: If you want to play this game at home, drawing faces, phalluses, the Batman logo, or the profanity of your choice on the shell of the egg is OPTIONAL.
During the course of this travel, the egg aged and passed many ordeals-- being hidden in pockets, hoodies, shoes, lunchbags, and hats. Unfortunately for me, it came to its final resting place in my pillow. I discovered it upon laying down to rest, somewhere east of Cleveland, it being my night to be too drunk to drive the van. Of course I felt the strange sensation of the well-placed object, under my pillowcase yet above the pillow, as my heavy and heavily-intoxicated head came to break it, but I was too tired to care. In fact, it was the complaints of my bandmates, who could not abide the stench, that awoke me and alerted me to the issue, an hour or so later... when we pulled over to throw the pillow out in a gas station trashcan. Unfortunately, I realized that my hair now smelled of the distinctive sulfur of rotten egg.
Instantly sober and stinking to the high heavens, I vowed my bitter revenge. And, in the custom of Young Men Travelling in Band Vans Across States, it was to be vulgar in its own right.
We went inside to gather supplies, including sodas for the trip and ice for the cooler. Only two of us were Mountain Dew drinkers (one being myself, and the other being the winner of the egg game). This, I would use to my advantage. Procuring two Mountain Dew BIG SLAMS (the one liter-size, a term no longer used on the packaging, but familiar to many), one for myself and one for my quarry, my trap was soon to be set.
Once back in the van, I neglected to go back to sleep, but rather to drink every drop of my soda right then and there. I concealed this fact from my quarry (who was fast asleep in the passenger seat, and due to take over driving in a few hours), keeping the empty close by me. Now, per the customs of the road, had I not finished mine, I was to write my name on it, before slipping it in the cooler. I did neither. In fact, I took my quarry's soda from the cooler and drank a couple gulps of it, wrote my name on it, and put it back in the cooler.
I didn't sleep for the next long while. I used the time, instead, to void my bladder into the empty Mountain Dew bottle-- first a couple of long, tiresome "beer pisses" and then the logical outcome of guzzling an entire liter of Mountain Dew in a matter of minutes. The bottle, unsurprisingly, was nearly full, and thanks to the green color of the bottle, wasn't that far off from what one might expect to see. I wrote my quarry's name on the bottle, placed it in the cooler, and went to sleep.
***Editorial note: For the record, urinating in a plastic bottle while on the road may SEEM vulgar, but if you think it is, you've never traveled long distances overland with males, where the rule of the road is, always, that the strongest bladder is the one calling the "piss stop."***
Some time later, we pulled over to change spots-- my quarry in the driver's seat, myself in the passenger, the rest of our part in the back. Of course, the quarry instantly wanted to crack open his Dew to get started, and thanks to the cooler, it was nice and cold for him. Ice cold, like the revenge I was to have.
It took exactly one deep, thirsty guzzle before he spat most of his "soda" all over himself before closing the bottle and throwing it out the window. "Fucking awful, I must have gotten a bad one," he would splutter later, never once knowing what he had willingly taken into his body. To this day, he doesn't know, and in the off-chance he's reading this, I've spared his name.
Did someone later, though, wonder why an almost completely full bottle of Mountain Dew was discarded? Did someone, perhaps, years later, pull a similar prank with a gallon of orange juice?
We may never know. I hope this has helped you.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Sewing Kits for Men.
Dear Dr. Sunday,
I have a brother who is trying to come up with a way to masculinize (if thats a word- if its not, it should be) a sewing kit. How do I tactfully tell him that he wants to do the impossible?
Befuddled in Bethel
Dear Sir,
I'd be happy to answer your question, save for the fact that it is based on a false premise. You believe that to masculinize (and yes, that is indeed a word) a sewing kit is an impossible feat.
Not so! In fact, while outmoded minds may consider the art of sewing to be feminine in nature, we now live in the 21st century, where most items need not have gender roles assigned to them. It's a sewing kit, not a box of tampons. If your brother, who I am certain is a wise and bold young man, has decided that not only will he own a sewing kit, but that he wants to decorate or modify the pieces (say, creating a custom thimble that fits his hand better but is in the form of a Dalek from Doctor Who, and turning the box into a miniature TARDIS) to better fit his personality, then he's doing the most bold and masculine thing he can do!
Consider: I'd be willing to wager that both you and your brother have had ear piercings in your time. And say, hypothetically, that your father was a bit old-fashioned with respect to changes in fashion, so he might have objected at various times, finding earrings to be effeminate, a grievous sin, in his eyes, for his sons to commit. Now, I bet that brother of yours, even as a young teenager, was astute enough to remind your father that ear piercing, historically, has not been a gender specific concept, and has only been forced into such during say, the days of your father's youth, and the cultures that preceded said father's youth. Did having a piece of metal in your ears make you any less a man?
Thus with the sewing kit. This is not exclusive to one gender or another, and customization, maybe because it came in a box that happens to be a soft pink, and doesn't stay closed very well, and is awkward in size/shape overall, is probably wise. Your brother doesn't feel feminine because he's GOT a sewing kit-- he just doesn't like the colors assigned to some of the accessories, the failure at proper closures, and awkward size/shape, and chooses to make them more conducive to his own personal tastes, while perhaps paying homage to a great British scifi show.
You should be ashamed of yourself for making fun of your brother, especially since he could still probably kick your ass as he did back in the day, when he was a much more cruel and unkind person.
I hope this has helped you.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
PS-- Give my love to your little ones, and tell Mom & Dad I said hello.
***Editorial Note, for background purposes: This message comes in response to a conversation which took place on my twitter page, wherein I suggested that, since I had such a hard time finding a good thimble or a sewing kit that wasn't feeble in appearance, that I would make a more "masculine" or perhaps merely a "geek" version, likely by making my thimble into a Dalek and the kit box into a TARDIS, and so on, because Doctor Who is, quite frankly, the shit. And yes, this was my brother who asked the question-- I break confidentiality only with his approval.***
I have a brother who is trying to come up with a way to masculinize (if thats a word- if its not, it should be) a sewing kit. How do I tactfully tell him that he wants to do the impossible?
Befuddled in Bethel
Dear Sir,
I'd be happy to answer your question, save for the fact that it is based on a false premise. You believe that to masculinize (and yes, that is indeed a word) a sewing kit is an impossible feat.
Not so! In fact, while outmoded minds may consider the art of sewing to be feminine in nature, we now live in the 21st century, where most items need not have gender roles assigned to them. It's a sewing kit, not a box of tampons. If your brother, who I am certain is a wise and bold young man, has decided that not only will he own a sewing kit, but that he wants to decorate or modify the pieces (say, creating a custom thimble that fits his hand better but is in the form of a Dalek from Doctor Who, and turning the box into a miniature TARDIS) to better fit his personality, then he's doing the most bold and masculine thing he can do!
Consider: I'd be willing to wager that both you and your brother have had ear piercings in your time. And say, hypothetically, that your father was a bit old-fashioned with respect to changes in fashion, so he might have objected at various times, finding earrings to be effeminate, a grievous sin, in his eyes, for his sons to commit. Now, I bet that brother of yours, even as a young teenager, was astute enough to remind your father that ear piercing, historically, has not been a gender specific concept, and has only been forced into such during say, the days of your father's youth, and the cultures that preceded said father's youth. Did having a piece of metal in your ears make you any less a man?
Thus with the sewing kit. This is not exclusive to one gender or another, and customization, maybe because it came in a box that happens to be a soft pink, and doesn't stay closed very well, and is awkward in size/shape overall, is probably wise. Your brother doesn't feel feminine because he's GOT a sewing kit-- he just doesn't like the colors assigned to some of the accessories, the failure at proper closures, and awkward size/shape, and chooses to make them more conducive to his own personal tastes, while perhaps paying homage to a great British scifi show.
You should be ashamed of yourself for making fun of your brother, especially since he could still probably kick your ass as he did back in the day, when he was a much more cruel and unkind person.
I hope this has helped you.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
PS-- Give my love to your little ones, and tell Mom & Dad I said hello.
***Editorial Note, for background purposes: This message comes in response to a conversation which took place on my twitter page, wherein I suggested that, since I had such a hard time finding a good thimble or a sewing kit that wasn't feeble in appearance, that I would make a more "masculine" or perhaps merely a "geek" version, likely by making my thimble into a Dalek and the kit box into a TARDIS, and so on, because Doctor Who is, quite frankly, the shit. And yes, this was my brother who asked the question-- I break confidentiality only with his approval.***
Culinary Conundrum, or What Will I Be When I Grow Up?
Dear Dr. Sunday,
There are certain times of the year when I'm very satisfied with and challenged by my career--times when I'd go so far as to say I get that peace-filled and remarkable feeling that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, when I'm supposed to be doing it. This, I believe, makes me very lucky, and I truly appreciate my employment. There was a time when I was sure I had my dream job.
But:
There are also certain times when my mind is overwhelmingly distracted from my work, and it's mostly to think about cooking. It's considering recipes, researching techniques, planning menus and reasons to entertain, constructing shopping lists in my mind, wishing I had more money so I could cook more things.
I love food, but I love cooking so much more. It's challenging and frustrating and satisfying to a degree I've only experienced elsewhere in personal romantic relationships.
So I wonder: am I in the wrong profession? Should I be cooking? Should I go to culinary school and have the chance to cook so much more than I do now? Or am I too old (almost 27, sheesh) already to consider such a thing? And do I not have enough natural talent? I'm really not that confident in my cooking, even though I manage to do a lot of it. I'm never quite happy with what I make, but the experience is always satisfying.
I guess I'm worried that: a) I'm pressing my luck--I already have a kickass job, b) I'm too old, and c) I'd end up being even worse than the trainwrecks that are eliminated in the first few weeks of every season of Top Chef. Plus I have a real and true and highly irrational fear of cracking eggs (terrified of the possibility of a partially developed chick inside).
I'm feeling delusional, but also kind of excited. Am I crazy?
Curious,
not-a-chef
Dear Not-A-Chef,
Finding one's true calling in life isn't always easy. There are people I've known personally from childhood, schoolmates, family friends, who always seemed to know where they would be going-- and simply fell into line, lived the life, and are thriving or at the very least comfortably surviving in their own little niches, never really having had to question their routes. In some of my more somber hours, I envy them the simplicity of their lives, the ease with which they appear to travel the paths of life, and wonder if they've ever spent the anguished and exhausting sleepless nights that some of us (like myself) still endure to this day.
And just as your story relates, I know people who work jobs that are very fulfilling, yet want for more, or perhaps simply wonder what else there could be. On a personal note, there is a man I know, a close blood relative of mine, who works a very honorable job which he loves-- yet he too, dreams of other things, at times, knowing that he possesses a passion (and honestly, even with my personal connection to him, I can state OBJECTIVELY, a true talent as well) for something else. Still the passion he desires to pursue is a bit less practical and immediate, for the needs of his life and his family, so he devotes himself to that which he must do to provide, while occasionally dabbling or even diving into the passion which haunts the quiet places of his soul.
Even for myself, I can state that I've walked this line. I'll go ahead and admit for the readers, as I have to my close friends, that I dropped out of college, walking out on a rather substantial scholarship to a very reputable institution, for the sake of pursuing careers in music and writing. I've spent my years since high school alternately supporting myself, sometimes in part, and sometimes in full, with my passions-- writing, recording and performing music, or various aspects of free-lance writing, not to mention the occasional art commission/sale, audio production, or event promotional role. While this is lovely, I also know that as an independent artist, I don't get health care or a 401K, and I'm lucky to have a savings account or even a place to rest my brilliant and beautiful head, so I've also made damned sure that, as needed, I've kept day jobs.
I promise this personal, expository narrative will soon become quite relevant to your circumstances, and I appreciate your patience, which you will find rewarded in a matter of a few brief paragraphs.
In the early days of leaving college, and the years that followed, I was a teen, or a lad in his early 20's, arrogant enough to believe that no harm would ever come that would require, say, the need to visit a hospital. Thanks to my upbringing (very folksy and rural, coming from a long line of bold and stoic people very close to the earth, with a liberal helping of German stamina, Irish courage, and Native American wisdom), I've been able to heal myself and keep myself well-preserved, despite years of very hard living. However, periodically, I've sustained injuries beyond my own abilities, such as when I broke my knee a couple of years ago (onstage, while playing a guitar solo--I'll spare you the details here), which once more revealed to me the benefit of having a very good "day job" which paid my bills and provided me with the high-level health care that allows me to walk, run, climb trees, fuck, fight, and maintain my yoga regimen to this very day. Even now, I work two jobs (one in finance, one in public relations) while continuing to make music (beautifully, I might add) and pursue all of my other ambitions (some more serious than others), which often actually make me some money-- a nice thing, to be sure, but more importantly, satisfies my desire for adventure, passion, and magic.
When I was recovering from the aforementioned knee injury, my father drove me to and from the surgery that was required. In an opiate haze, I recall resting on my bed in my apartment, while my Dad ran to McDonald's to get a fish sandwich for himself (it was a Friday during Lent, and he's Catholic enough to be like, forty-third in line for the next Pope). Dad came back, and asked again exactly what had transpired, and I told him. We had a discussion very similar to that which I have already mentioned to you, and he said it was good that I was wise enough to keep my day job while pursuing my passion. I agreed with him, and he told me this: "Sometimes, there is value in taking risks-- living life without a net. But if you can have what you want WHILE MAKING SURE that the basic needs of your life are cared for, you'd be a fool not to do so. Everyone wants to have a cake and eat it too-- that's the best of all possible worlds, son." Now, while he did tell me afterwards to cut my hair, stop wearing makeup, and to start eating meat again, since the vegetarian thing is probably why I got hurt, since I was already halfway to being a girl and when the fuck was I going to snap out of that hippie bullshit already, seriously, etc, I still consider him, in most respects to be perhaps the wisest person I know, and almost as smart as I am. Almost.
This is my advice for you, my dear: You should follow your dream. I do think, however, that you should do it in such a way that you do not sacrifice the life you have, at least for the moment. Sure, there's romance in the idea that you drop everything to flee to some far-off city to learn the culinary arts at the hands of venerable masters, but the truth is, you can have your cake and eat it, too-- and in the process, learn how to make the kinds of proverbial cakes that astound and astonish, that are as much a joy to prepare and devise as they are to eat and to share. Work with your schedule-- make some sacrifices for yourself and for your art. Figure out how to attend cooking school while still maintaining the job that you have. You will, then, have quite a bit of time to ascertain which life suits you best. Maybe you end up becoming a chef, and loving it-- and maybe you keep doing what you're doing, but go even further towards astounding the people who love you most by preparing meals of such amazing depth that your passions are sated, desires met, and your happiness is assured. The fact that you're willing to ask yourself this question, rather than dismissing it as some foolish dream, tells me that you're onto something worth pursuing.
I've given this question a lot of thought, and every time I look at it, I realize how totally right and very fucking smart I am. I think you're ready to take this step-- maybe you just need the impetus of hearing from someone on the outside. Follow your dreams, but save yourself the peace of mind that your "day job" will offer. You'll stay satisfied and you'll learn a lot about yourself. That's the kind of education that only life itself can provide.
I hope this has helped you. If you need further consultation, you know where to reach me.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
PS-- You're never too old to follow your dreams. Betting on yourself is NEVER pressing your luck, and reality television is about as far from reality as you can get.
And for the record, the eggs that you purchase from the store are not ever fertilized, and thus will not contain any sort of embryonic chicken babies. I can state this categorically. Unless you're buying your eggs from a man on the side of the road, or driving to a farm to get them right out from under a hen, you've nothing to worry over, I assure you.
There are certain times of the year when I'm very satisfied with and challenged by my career--times when I'd go so far as to say I get that peace-filled and remarkable feeling that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, when I'm supposed to be doing it. This, I believe, makes me very lucky, and I truly appreciate my employment. There was a time when I was sure I had my dream job.
But:
There are also certain times when my mind is overwhelmingly distracted from my work, and it's mostly to think about cooking. It's considering recipes, researching techniques, planning menus and reasons to entertain, constructing shopping lists in my mind, wishing I had more money so I could cook more things.
I love food, but I love cooking so much more. It's challenging and frustrating and satisfying to a degree I've only experienced elsewhere in personal romantic relationships.
So I wonder: am I in the wrong profession? Should I be cooking? Should I go to culinary school and have the chance to cook so much more than I do now? Or am I too old (almost 27, sheesh) already to consider such a thing? And do I not have enough natural talent? I'm really not that confident in my cooking, even though I manage to do a lot of it. I'm never quite happy with what I make, but the experience is always satisfying.
I guess I'm worried that: a) I'm pressing my luck--I already have a kickass job, b) I'm too old, and c) I'd end up being even worse than the trainwrecks that are eliminated in the first few weeks of every season of Top Chef. Plus I have a real and true and highly irrational fear of cracking eggs (terrified of the possibility of a partially developed chick inside).
I'm feeling delusional, but also kind of excited. Am I crazy?
Curious,
not-a-chef
Dear Not-A-Chef,
Finding one's true calling in life isn't always easy. There are people I've known personally from childhood, schoolmates, family friends, who always seemed to know where they would be going-- and simply fell into line, lived the life, and are thriving or at the very least comfortably surviving in their own little niches, never really having had to question their routes. In some of my more somber hours, I envy them the simplicity of their lives, the ease with which they appear to travel the paths of life, and wonder if they've ever spent the anguished and exhausting sleepless nights that some of us (like myself) still endure to this day.
And just as your story relates, I know people who work jobs that are very fulfilling, yet want for more, or perhaps simply wonder what else there could be. On a personal note, there is a man I know, a close blood relative of mine, who works a very honorable job which he loves-- yet he too, dreams of other things, at times, knowing that he possesses a passion (and honestly, even with my personal connection to him, I can state OBJECTIVELY, a true talent as well) for something else. Still the passion he desires to pursue is a bit less practical and immediate, for the needs of his life and his family, so he devotes himself to that which he must do to provide, while occasionally dabbling or even diving into the passion which haunts the quiet places of his soul.
Even for myself, I can state that I've walked this line. I'll go ahead and admit for the readers, as I have to my close friends, that I dropped out of college, walking out on a rather substantial scholarship to a very reputable institution, for the sake of pursuing careers in music and writing. I've spent my years since high school alternately supporting myself, sometimes in part, and sometimes in full, with my passions-- writing, recording and performing music, or various aspects of free-lance writing, not to mention the occasional art commission/sale, audio production, or event promotional role. While this is lovely, I also know that as an independent artist, I don't get health care or a 401K, and I'm lucky to have a savings account or even a place to rest my brilliant and beautiful head, so I've also made damned sure that, as needed, I've kept day jobs.
I promise this personal, expository narrative will soon become quite relevant to your circumstances, and I appreciate your patience, which you will find rewarded in a matter of a few brief paragraphs.
In the early days of leaving college, and the years that followed, I was a teen, or a lad in his early 20's, arrogant enough to believe that no harm would ever come that would require, say, the need to visit a hospital. Thanks to my upbringing (very folksy and rural, coming from a long line of bold and stoic people very close to the earth, with a liberal helping of German stamina, Irish courage, and Native American wisdom), I've been able to heal myself and keep myself well-preserved, despite years of very hard living. However, periodically, I've sustained injuries beyond my own abilities, such as when I broke my knee a couple of years ago (onstage, while playing a guitar solo--I'll spare you the details here), which once more revealed to me the benefit of having a very good "day job" which paid my bills and provided me with the high-level health care that allows me to walk, run, climb trees, fuck, fight, and maintain my yoga regimen to this very day. Even now, I work two jobs (one in finance, one in public relations) while continuing to make music (beautifully, I might add) and pursue all of my other ambitions (some more serious than others), which often actually make me some money-- a nice thing, to be sure, but more importantly, satisfies my desire for adventure, passion, and magic.
When I was recovering from the aforementioned knee injury, my father drove me to and from the surgery that was required. In an opiate haze, I recall resting on my bed in my apartment, while my Dad ran to McDonald's to get a fish sandwich for himself (it was a Friday during Lent, and he's Catholic enough to be like, forty-third in line for the next Pope). Dad came back, and asked again exactly what had transpired, and I told him. We had a discussion very similar to that which I have already mentioned to you, and he said it was good that I was wise enough to keep my day job while pursuing my passion. I agreed with him, and he told me this: "Sometimes, there is value in taking risks-- living life without a net. But if you can have what you want WHILE MAKING SURE that the basic needs of your life are cared for, you'd be a fool not to do so. Everyone wants to have a cake and eat it too-- that's the best of all possible worlds, son." Now, while he did tell me afterwards to cut my hair, stop wearing makeup, and to start eating meat again, since the vegetarian thing is probably why I got hurt, since I was already halfway to being a girl and when the fuck was I going to snap out of that hippie bullshit already, seriously, etc, I still consider him, in most respects to be perhaps the wisest person I know, and almost as smart as I am. Almost.
This is my advice for you, my dear: You should follow your dream. I do think, however, that you should do it in such a way that you do not sacrifice the life you have, at least for the moment. Sure, there's romance in the idea that you drop everything to flee to some far-off city to learn the culinary arts at the hands of venerable masters, but the truth is, you can have your cake and eat it, too-- and in the process, learn how to make the kinds of proverbial cakes that astound and astonish, that are as much a joy to prepare and devise as they are to eat and to share. Work with your schedule-- make some sacrifices for yourself and for your art. Figure out how to attend cooking school while still maintaining the job that you have. You will, then, have quite a bit of time to ascertain which life suits you best. Maybe you end up becoming a chef, and loving it-- and maybe you keep doing what you're doing, but go even further towards astounding the people who love you most by preparing meals of such amazing depth that your passions are sated, desires met, and your happiness is assured. The fact that you're willing to ask yourself this question, rather than dismissing it as some foolish dream, tells me that you're onto something worth pursuing.
I've given this question a lot of thought, and every time I look at it, I realize how totally right and very fucking smart I am. I think you're ready to take this step-- maybe you just need the impetus of hearing from someone on the outside. Follow your dreams, but save yourself the peace of mind that your "day job" will offer. You'll stay satisfied and you'll learn a lot about yourself. That's the kind of education that only life itself can provide.
I hope this has helped you. If you need further consultation, you know where to reach me.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
PS-- You're never too old to follow your dreams. Betting on yourself is NEVER pressing your luck, and reality television is about as far from reality as you can get.
And for the record, the eggs that you purchase from the store are not ever fertilized, and thus will not contain any sort of embryonic chicken babies. I can state this categorically. Unless you're buying your eggs from a man on the side of the road, or driving to a farm to get them right out from under a hen, you've nothing to worry over, I assure you.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
If this one doesn't offend you, you might be worth knowing.
To the ever witty and handsome Doctor Sunday,
Have recently been pondering life. Love, pain, existence, etc. Included in this waxing, and the one I wish to speak on, is the biggest perplexity of all..
Why is everyone a moron?
It seems that quite recently I have been surrounded by more stupidity than deemed necessary. As I have never been naive in the least, I have always had my suspicions of half the general population being sadly afflicted with being an idiot. It has just been growing in numbers more so than usual lately.
To elaborate: Why does my roommate have the time to get weeded/eat all of my food/whine about women daily, but cannot spare twenty seconds to wash a fork?
Why is an ex m.i.a. until they need an outlet to bitch or rant to, i.e., you?
Why does that drunk girl you don't know at The Tavern feel the need to let you know exactly how long she's gone without sexy time (and how horny she is) whilst spilling your beer and attempting bedroom eyes at all your friends?
And then there's even the non-personal. Why is gay marriage illegal?
Why does the creditreport.com guy continue to be allowed commercial time? I could go on for days here.
Is this just a part of human nature that I will eventually have to accept and live with? Is it because Pluto is in retrograde? Am I just unmoving, unfeeling, unkind? (bonus points for alliteration) I would surely hope not as I'm a humanist first and foremost. Please share your thoughts on my, and the world's, dilemma.
xo,
Pissed off Smarty Pants.
Dearest Pissed off Smarty Pants,
This is indeed a tough and challenging question. Why are there so many morons? Can we blame it on modern diet, or perhaps the influx of new avenues of vicarious entertainment that serve to dilute creativity, stunt motivation, and cripple intellect? Is it a sign of some pending apocalypse not predicted in any ancient text or entheogen-addled shaman dreams? Does the Matrix need more RAM or to switch to Linux? All valid questions.
We could point the finger in many directions. While I'm only half-joking when I say that the "information age" serves to leave people more "educated" while growing less intelligent, the truth is, people really do pay too much attention to things that aren't worth it. Take the continued existence of American Idol. Anyone with even just a single pair of neurons that spark even periodically should find that sort of thing to be a slap in the face; particularly anyone who values art enough to NOT wish it to be so BLATANTLY commoditized. Now, I could sit here and insult even some of my close friends by calling them stupid for watching it, but I'd rather not, because some of them are people I see often enough to make social exchanges awkward were I to make that choice.
So looking at the results, we wonder: is there a causal relationship between the modern media and stupidity? Do we support moronic things because we're stupid, or does our stupidity result in a market for stupid things? It's a vicious cycle.
The point is, and I'll be shockingly Nietzschean for a moment, by saying that morons are out there to make the non-morons shine. Think about it. Evolution has created a number of wonders and traits (seriously, click that link; it's awesome, right?), all while leaving others far, far behind. The favorable features provide mating advantages, and social evolution often adopts innovation. Now, the scary thing here, is that natural selection appears to be leading us in the wrong direction, as the proliferation of idiocy is reaching a more critical stage, when the opposite SHOULD be true. We're getting educations, we're travelling more widely, we've got access to so many things beyond the dreams of previous generations-- so why is it that we're consistently producing underachieving, uninspired hacks who consume foolishly, travel seemingly only to prove that a fool in Chicago is a fool in Paris, and allow atrocities such as this to be inflicted upon the general public.
Why? Isn't it obvious? Clearly, we've reached a plateau, and in some metaphysical sense, evolution/God/the Universe is saying "ok, seriously? all this time and the best you can do is this?" This is why we have so many legends, myths, and tales of a Great Deluge. It's an archetype that plugs directly into the forward-thinking psyche of Human Development. We know that the day will come, when rather than "wickedness," "ungodliness" and "immorality," we are damned by "stupidity," "douchebags," and "80's retro."
It's all our own fault, though. In the last few decades, more so than ever, and worse still today, we're raising a society of people who are born and raised without ever having to actually try; people who are fed entitlement and inflated senses of self-worth, who are coddled through situations where character should have been built. LET THE CHILDREN FAIL. IT IS THE ONLY WAY THAT THEY WILL EVER REALLY LEARN. YOUR ILLITERATE, BELLIGERENT, LOUD-MOUTHED BEDWETTER IS NOT SPECIAL-- THAT HAS TO BE EARNED.
Would that I knew the proper spell to incant, to make this all go away-- give our pesky species the chance to install upgrades and restart. Sadly, such is not the case, so these are facts and facets with which you and I must continue to cope. And as logic will dictate, when the facts of a situation are immutable, one must address reality by altering perception and/or altering reaction. For example, to address your sub-questions: your roomie puffs, dines, and whines so much because if he shut up, he'd have to find something else to do, and washing up seems distasteful: in other words, stupid, lazy, and it sucks--keep your food where it cannot be taken, roll your eyes at the whining, and wash only your own dishes. And ex's who only come around when they want something are selfish and stupid enough to believe that you don't have anything better to do than make yourself available to them--be stronger than that, and you can always hang up the phone, hit the "invisible" button in chat, or be clever with excuses. Remember, lying to a moron doesn't count as dishonesty-- so go for it, with my blessing.
The drunk bar slut behaves thus because she is slave to her appetites and impulses, thereby little to differ from the animals at the zoo. I'd recommend throwing peanuts at her and taking her picture until she either starts flinging feces or hides behind a tree. It's 2009, drunk bar slut-- getting laid is easy, and you don't have to play games or reek of desperation while embarassing yourself and everyone who knows you. Put on some underwear and close your fucking mouth-- if you weren't so pathetic, maybe you wouldn't HAVE to whine about "how long it's been."
Gay marriage is illegal because there are too many ignorant idiots holding onto outmoded morality, who want to hold onto their places in the rising divorce rates. Don't worry, we'll have gay marriage before we have legal pot--and both of those are coming down the line, doubt it not.
And the creditreportdotcom guy is still on the air because we are being punished for all of our sins, and for allowing the continued existence of Coldplay.
As for the last part of your message, do not blame yourself-- you are certainly not "unmoving, unfeeling, unkind." You're merely aware and quite realistic, and if the weight of the world makes you a little bit bitter sometimes, it is to be understood. You can be a humanist and still find your heart a bit sour on the thought of your fellow humans, sometimes.
My advice to you is simple. Do what I do: surround yourself with intelligent, charming and attractive people; chances are, you already know some-- seek their company. You can meet new people through those you know already, and that's fantastic, because you can pick and choose. Invite yourself out, invite others in. Participate in activities geared towards your interests, and make friends-- take a class, get up and go out, be creative and use good judgement. Be choosy with those you allow to become close to you. Initiate creative correspondences-- collaborate. Be smart and never, ever, EVER settle for anything less than what will really keep you happy and stimulated. Ignore what you can of the unwashed masses, and learn to laugh at what you can't ignore-- the more you learn to laugh, the easier it is to keep that shadow right out of your heart, and moreso, there is POWER in mockery. Keep your wits sharp and don't drag yourself down unnecessarily. A nice sense of superiority helps, too, but you'll get that anyway.
Your recognition of the problem tells me that you're going to be JUST fine. I hope this has helped you, and if you need anything else, you know where to find me.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
Have recently been pondering life. Love, pain, existence, etc. Included in this waxing, and the one I wish to speak on, is the biggest perplexity of all..
Why is everyone a moron?
It seems that quite recently I have been surrounded by more stupidity than deemed necessary. As I have never been naive in the least, I have always had my suspicions of half the general population being sadly afflicted with being an idiot. It has just been growing in numbers more so than usual lately.
To elaborate: Why does my roommate have the time to get weeded/eat all of my food/whine about women daily, but cannot spare twenty seconds to wash a fork?
Why is an ex m.i.a. until they need an outlet to bitch or rant to, i.e., you?
Why does that drunk girl you don't know at The Tavern feel the need to let you know exactly how long she's gone without sexy time (and how horny she is) whilst spilling your beer and attempting bedroom eyes at all your friends?
And then there's even the non-personal. Why is gay marriage illegal?
Why does the creditreport.com guy continue to be allowed commercial time? I could go on for days here.
Is this just a part of human nature that I will eventually have to accept and live with? Is it because Pluto is in retrograde? Am I just unmoving, unfeeling, unkind? (bonus points for alliteration) I would surely hope not as I'm a humanist first and foremost. Please share your thoughts on my, and the world's, dilemma.
xo,
Pissed off Smarty Pants.
Dearest Pissed off Smarty Pants,
This is indeed a tough and challenging question. Why are there so many morons? Can we blame it on modern diet, or perhaps the influx of new avenues of vicarious entertainment that serve to dilute creativity, stunt motivation, and cripple intellect? Is it a sign of some pending apocalypse not predicted in any ancient text or entheogen-addled shaman dreams? Does the Matrix need more RAM or to switch to Linux? All valid questions.
We could point the finger in many directions. While I'm only half-joking when I say that the "information age" serves to leave people more "educated" while growing less intelligent, the truth is, people really do pay too much attention to things that aren't worth it. Take the continued existence of American Idol. Anyone with even just a single pair of neurons that spark even periodically should find that sort of thing to be a slap in the face; particularly anyone who values art enough to NOT wish it to be so BLATANTLY commoditized. Now, I could sit here and insult even some of my close friends by calling them stupid for watching it, but I'd rather not, because some of them are people I see often enough to make social exchanges awkward were I to make that choice.
So looking at the results, we wonder: is there a causal relationship between the modern media and stupidity? Do we support moronic things because we're stupid, or does our stupidity result in a market for stupid things? It's a vicious cycle.
The point is, and I'll be shockingly Nietzschean for a moment, by saying that morons are out there to make the non-morons shine. Think about it. Evolution has created a number of wonders and traits (seriously, click that link; it's awesome, right?), all while leaving others far, far behind. The favorable features provide mating advantages, and social evolution often adopts innovation. Now, the scary thing here, is that natural selection appears to be leading us in the wrong direction, as the proliferation of idiocy is reaching a more critical stage, when the opposite SHOULD be true. We're getting educations, we're travelling more widely, we've got access to so many things beyond the dreams of previous generations-- so why is it that we're consistently producing underachieving, uninspired hacks who consume foolishly, travel seemingly only to prove that a fool in Chicago is a fool in Paris, and allow atrocities such as this to be inflicted upon the general public.
Why? Isn't it obvious? Clearly, we've reached a plateau, and in some metaphysical sense, evolution/God/the Universe is saying "ok, seriously? all this time and the best you can do is this?" This is why we have so many legends, myths, and tales of a Great Deluge. It's an archetype that plugs directly into the forward-thinking psyche of Human Development. We know that the day will come, when rather than "wickedness," "ungodliness" and "immorality," we are damned by "stupidity," "douchebags," and "80's retro."
It's all our own fault, though. In the last few decades, more so than ever, and worse still today, we're raising a society of people who are born and raised without ever having to actually try; people who are fed entitlement and inflated senses of self-worth, who are coddled through situations where character should have been built. LET THE CHILDREN FAIL. IT IS THE ONLY WAY THAT THEY WILL EVER REALLY LEARN. YOUR ILLITERATE, BELLIGERENT, LOUD-MOUTHED BEDWETTER IS NOT SPECIAL-- THAT HAS TO BE EARNED.
Would that I knew the proper spell to incant, to make this all go away-- give our pesky species the chance to install upgrades and restart. Sadly, such is not the case, so these are facts and facets with which you and I must continue to cope. And as logic will dictate, when the facts of a situation are immutable, one must address reality by altering perception and/or altering reaction. For example, to address your sub-questions: your roomie puffs, dines, and whines so much because if he shut up, he'd have to find something else to do, and washing up seems distasteful: in other words, stupid, lazy, and it sucks--keep your food where it cannot be taken, roll your eyes at the whining, and wash only your own dishes. And ex's who only come around when they want something are selfish and stupid enough to believe that you don't have anything better to do than make yourself available to them--be stronger than that, and you can always hang up the phone, hit the "invisible" button in chat, or be clever with excuses. Remember, lying to a moron doesn't count as dishonesty-- so go for it, with my blessing.
The drunk bar slut behaves thus because she is slave to her appetites and impulses, thereby little to differ from the animals at the zoo. I'd recommend throwing peanuts at her and taking her picture until she either starts flinging feces or hides behind a tree. It's 2009, drunk bar slut-- getting laid is easy, and you don't have to play games or reek of desperation while embarassing yourself and everyone who knows you. Put on some underwear and close your fucking mouth-- if you weren't so pathetic, maybe you wouldn't HAVE to whine about "how long it's been."
Gay marriage is illegal because there are too many ignorant idiots holding onto outmoded morality, who want to hold onto their places in the rising divorce rates. Don't worry, we'll have gay marriage before we have legal pot--and both of those are coming down the line, doubt it not.
And the creditreportdotcom guy is still on the air because we are being punished for all of our sins, and for allowing the continued existence of Coldplay.
As for the last part of your message, do not blame yourself-- you are certainly not "unmoving, unfeeling, unkind." You're merely aware and quite realistic, and if the weight of the world makes you a little bit bitter sometimes, it is to be understood. You can be a humanist and still find your heart a bit sour on the thought of your fellow humans, sometimes.
My advice to you is simple. Do what I do: surround yourself with intelligent, charming and attractive people; chances are, you already know some-- seek their company. You can meet new people through those you know already, and that's fantastic, because you can pick and choose. Invite yourself out, invite others in. Participate in activities geared towards your interests, and make friends-- take a class, get up and go out, be creative and use good judgement. Be choosy with those you allow to become close to you. Initiate creative correspondences-- collaborate. Be smart and never, ever, EVER settle for anything less than what will really keep you happy and stimulated. Ignore what you can of the unwashed masses, and learn to laugh at what you can't ignore-- the more you learn to laugh, the easier it is to keep that shadow right out of your heart, and moreso, there is POWER in mockery. Keep your wits sharp and don't drag yourself down unnecessarily. A nice sense of superiority helps, too, but you'll get that anyway.
Your recognition of the problem tells me that you're going to be JUST fine. I hope this has helped you, and if you need anything else, you know where to find me.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Let's talk about sex.
Dear Dr Sunday,
I was wondering if you had any advice for a couple. We've been together for a little more than two years and we don't have sex very much anymore. We still love each other but for some reason we're just not doing it that often- maybe once or twice a month. When we first got together we used to do it like three or four days out of the week at least. Im still very attracted to my boyfriend and hes still very attracted to me, but how can we make things a little more interesting for both of us? I dont want us to stop being interested in each other or to start looking elsewhere. Can you help us pleeeeease?
Frustrated in Fremont
Dear Frustrated,
Using extra vowels in the word "please" is a great way to get my attention, apparently. That was a joke. Never do that again. (also a joke, fyi)
Let me break this down for you as simply as possible. We're going to address this issue on two fronts-- causes and symptoms. This is going to require some work on your part-- but if you really care the way that you claim to, and I have no reason to doubt that you do, then you'll find this a breeze.
Ok. Now, to proceed logically, let me ask you: is something different in your relationship? Has something changed, qualitatively or quantitatively, in the nature of your interactions with your boyfriend, that might impact this? Are you spending less time together, are you spending less time thinking about each other? Is someone taking someone else for granted, is one partner more selfish than the other, have you both begun to drift, etc? Has something HAPPENED? Are both of you in good health? Do you live together, do you see each other often? Are you both honest about your needs and feelings, or your level of commitment to the relationship? How do YOU feel about YOURSELF? How does HE feel about HIMSELF? Etc.
Here's the thing, Frustrated. ANY of the above could factor into a reduction in the affection level. Are you physically affectionate enough OUTSIDE of sex? It's easy, in the first blush of a relationship, to hold hands, touch, be close, be intimate, make your friends nauseous through public displays of affection-- but when you're alone, do you still kiss good night? Do you still say "I love you" every time you meet? Does this love, honestly, to you, mean enough to you that you're willing to give of yourself? And what of him?
Those questions themselves pose suggestions, surely, if they are in fact the problem, but since our correspondence, at the moment, is limited to an email and your response (at least until you write more, I suppose), all I can say is ask yourself all of the above and if you find an issue, address it-- and if you need more advice, by all means, feel free to ask. This advice thing is kind of what I do, right?
Now. How, in the short term, to address the problem? Well, for the sensibilities of my readers, I'll keep this relatively clean, though I do believe my advice will lend itself well to resolution of your immediate sexual concerns, while you choosing to pursue and face any root matters (if any) as listed above, or otherwise, will address the problem at its core. In other words, I can't help you love your man any more than I can help him to love you, though I can probably give you some advice to get you both screwing like you should already be.
Thought one: honesty. If you're both concerned about not having enough sex, then try to figure out why. Sure, it gets less hot if you're scheduling it, but for FUCK'S FUCKING SAKE, make time for each other, with an emphasis on that. Since it's you writing me (and not HIM writing me) I'd suggest that you take the reins here yourself (figuratively OR literally). Are you really that attracted to him? Do you love him? Then SEDUCE the guy. Use your charms and wiles. Talk to him. Ask him about fantasies. Seriously. Sounds corny, but if you suddenly reveal something about your own, he's going to feel a bit comfortable stepping forward to tell you something. See if that's not something you can work with. I can guarantee you, unless he reveals some unforeseen really sick fetish, you're both going to have one HELL of a time with that talk, especially if you really make sure it keeps going well past the initial awkwardness. You'll thank me. Talk about what you both want, and see how long it takes to start seeing some of that come to life.
Thought two: what you already know. You're the one writing me, not him, so maybe he doesn't read this blog (if so, he's probably not worth fucking anyway, but since you love him, I'll assume he's a loyal reader, and pretend I was just joking when I said that). This says clearly that you really want to make this happen, but you're at a loss. You're at the end of your rope, so to speak, and you need more than what you have. So get more. Make this happen yourself. You know this guy. You know him a lot better than I do. Surprise him. Give him what he wants: positions, costumes, location, roleplay, talk, accessories, unrestrained passion--whatever it is that you know he would enjoy. Give him something that's going to leave him wanting more. Send him a message, write him a letter, take a picture (but only if you're sure this is going to last, obviously), or just fucking surprise him when he least expects it. Show up and tell him you need something, get it and then go home. He'll be so blindsided that he'll be forced to take a whole new perspective on who you are-- and if he's really into you, he's going to find himself a lot more willing. And if you're the problem, if you're the one who isn't as willing, then giving yourself time to use what you know of him to plot, plan, and scheme for amazing experiences, you're going to feel like more of a sexual person. You can't be lazy with love. You have to give, you have to show effort, you can't merely expect things to happen in their own time. Those kinds of thoughts are exactly why this kind of thing happens to people.
Being male myself, I can state categorically that if you provide him with something that is a true EXPERIENCE, you're going to give him the kind of gift (memories, desire, satisfaction) that will keep him focused on you-- and at the same time, you're going to find yourself a lot more interested, as you work to make things more interesting. And it won't take much effort in that way to really let love (or at the very least, sex) to engage itself into making things a lot hotter and more interesting than you ever thought possible, or ever could have accomplished alone.
Trust me, I'm a pretend internet Doctor. I'm not going to let you down on this one. If you do as I say, you won't let yourself (or him) down either. I've got plenty more I could tell you, but I'd rather not denote this particular entry as NSFW. Believe in yourself, use your creativity, and if you really want this, the appetite will provide the impetus. Do it! It's on you now. Stop reading (for tonight) and start plotting!
I hope this has helped you.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
I was wondering if you had any advice for a couple. We've been together for a little more than two years and we don't have sex very much anymore. We still love each other but for some reason we're just not doing it that often- maybe once or twice a month. When we first got together we used to do it like three or four days out of the week at least. Im still very attracted to my boyfriend and hes still very attracted to me, but how can we make things a little more interesting for both of us? I dont want us to stop being interested in each other or to start looking elsewhere. Can you help us pleeeeease?
Frustrated in Fremont
Dear Frustrated,
Using extra vowels in the word "please" is a great way to get my attention, apparently. That was a joke. Never do that again. (also a joke, fyi)
Let me break this down for you as simply as possible. We're going to address this issue on two fronts-- causes and symptoms. This is going to require some work on your part-- but if you really care the way that you claim to, and I have no reason to doubt that you do, then you'll find this a breeze.
Ok. Now, to proceed logically, let me ask you: is something different in your relationship? Has something changed, qualitatively or quantitatively, in the nature of your interactions with your boyfriend, that might impact this? Are you spending less time together, are you spending less time thinking about each other? Is someone taking someone else for granted, is one partner more selfish than the other, have you both begun to drift, etc? Has something HAPPENED? Are both of you in good health? Do you live together, do you see each other often? Are you both honest about your needs and feelings, or your level of commitment to the relationship? How do YOU feel about YOURSELF? How does HE feel about HIMSELF? Etc.
Here's the thing, Frustrated. ANY of the above could factor into a reduction in the affection level. Are you physically affectionate enough OUTSIDE of sex? It's easy, in the first blush of a relationship, to hold hands, touch, be close, be intimate, make your friends nauseous through public displays of affection-- but when you're alone, do you still kiss good night? Do you still say "I love you" every time you meet? Does this love, honestly, to you, mean enough to you that you're willing to give of yourself? And what of him?
Those questions themselves pose suggestions, surely, if they are in fact the problem, but since our correspondence, at the moment, is limited to an email and your response (at least until you write more, I suppose), all I can say is ask yourself all of the above and if you find an issue, address it-- and if you need more advice, by all means, feel free to ask. This advice thing is kind of what I do, right?
Now. How, in the short term, to address the problem? Well, for the sensibilities of my readers, I'll keep this relatively clean, though I do believe my advice will lend itself well to resolution of your immediate sexual concerns, while you choosing to pursue and face any root matters (if any) as listed above, or otherwise, will address the problem at its core. In other words, I can't help you love your man any more than I can help him to love you, though I can probably give you some advice to get you both screwing like you should already be.
Thought one: honesty. If you're both concerned about not having enough sex, then try to figure out why. Sure, it gets less hot if you're scheduling it, but for FUCK'S FUCKING SAKE, make time for each other, with an emphasis on that. Since it's you writing me (and not HIM writing me) I'd suggest that you take the reins here yourself (figuratively OR literally). Are you really that attracted to him? Do you love him? Then SEDUCE the guy. Use your charms and wiles. Talk to him. Ask him about fantasies. Seriously. Sounds corny, but if you suddenly reveal something about your own, he's going to feel a bit comfortable stepping forward to tell you something. See if that's not something you can work with. I can guarantee you, unless he reveals some unforeseen really sick fetish, you're both going to have one HELL of a time with that talk, especially if you really make sure it keeps going well past the initial awkwardness. You'll thank me. Talk about what you both want, and see how long it takes to start seeing some of that come to life.
Thought two: what you already know. You're the one writing me, not him, so maybe he doesn't read this blog (if so, he's probably not worth fucking anyway, but since you love him, I'll assume he's a loyal reader, and pretend I was just joking when I said that). This says clearly that you really want to make this happen, but you're at a loss. You're at the end of your rope, so to speak, and you need more than what you have. So get more. Make this happen yourself. You know this guy. You know him a lot better than I do. Surprise him. Give him what he wants: positions, costumes, location, roleplay, talk, accessories, unrestrained passion--whatever it is that you know he would enjoy. Give him something that's going to leave him wanting more. Send him a message, write him a letter, take a picture (but only if you're sure this is going to last, obviously), or just fucking surprise him when he least expects it. Show up and tell him you need something, get it and then go home. He'll be so blindsided that he'll be forced to take a whole new perspective on who you are-- and if he's really into you, he's going to find himself a lot more willing. And if you're the problem, if you're the one who isn't as willing, then giving yourself time to use what you know of him to plot, plan, and scheme for amazing experiences, you're going to feel like more of a sexual person. You can't be lazy with love. You have to give, you have to show effort, you can't merely expect things to happen in their own time. Those kinds of thoughts are exactly why this kind of thing happens to people.
Being male myself, I can state categorically that if you provide him with something that is a true EXPERIENCE, you're going to give him the kind of gift (memories, desire, satisfaction) that will keep him focused on you-- and at the same time, you're going to find yourself a lot more interested, as you work to make things more interesting. And it won't take much effort in that way to really let love (or at the very least, sex) to engage itself into making things a lot hotter and more interesting than you ever thought possible, or ever could have accomplished alone.
Trust me, I'm a pretend internet Doctor. I'm not going to let you down on this one. If you do as I say, you won't let yourself (or him) down either. I've got plenty more I could tell you, but I'd rather not denote this particular entry as NSFW. Believe in yourself, use your creativity, and if you really want this, the appetite will provide the impetus. Do it! It's on you now. Stop reading (for tonight) and start plotting!
I hope this has helped you.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
Age and betrayal.
Dear Dr. Sunday,
I broke up with my long term, live in boyfriend last year because, among other things, he was carrying on what I believed to be an inappropriate relationship with a high school student who was the little sister of one of our friends. He insisted nothing was going on but now they are in a relationship so I think I was pretty much dead on. He is 26 and she is 18. I find this to be incredibly disgusting despite the techinical legality of the whole thing. My ex is incredibly smart, he graduated top of his class from a very prestigious university, is a two-time national debate champion and just finished a clerkship with a federal judge and is now working for the government in an important position. But, that being the case, how can he be so stupid and date a high school student? Is there something wrong with me that I dated such a creep? Thanks!
Sincerely,
Confused in the City
Dear Confused,
Let me first state that I am sorry to hear what you have been through, particularly with respect to the presumed (and likely) infidelity (emotional or otherwise). Ending a relationship is, more often than not, a very unpleasant and difficult thing, and situations such as these only make it that much harder. I do hope that you've found yourself the better for it.
I'll answer your twofold question in reverse order, because I can, and it seems easier that way. I don't believe that you should blame yourself, or that there is "something wrong" with you for having dated him. He was the one who wronged you, at least during the relationship. Obviously, the things he has done subsequent to the relationship are his own affair, no pun intended. Even if there was in fact "nothing" going on, and he merely considered the young lady a friend, he should have respected AT THE VERY LEAST that it made you uncomfortable. If he were truly committed to the relationship, he would have shown you the courtesy and respect due you by facing and addressing in a productive and unselfish fashion, or removing the situation. Relationships are ALWAYS supposed to be about compromise, which means sacrifices must be made particularly where outside forces (in this case, a high school girl) act as obstacles. The fact that he did NOT, according to your account, make the necessary changes proves at the least he is/was a selfish person who put his own wishes before your own and well ahead of the relationship itself, and also tends to imply that his unwillingness to make such a change in that circumstance might be indicative of actual infidelity, whether physical, emotional, or both. He wasn't willing to let go for a reason-- it isn't hard to imagine what those reasons might have been, particularly given the circumstances now.
As for WHY he would date a high school student? To that, I cannot say with certainty. I have to admit that the age difference between myself and my girlfriend of the last five years is exactly the same-- and a little math will probably make it clear that she was a high school senior when I started dating her, two weeks before my 26th birthday. At the time, we'd not really discussed the age difference (I thought she was older, she thought I was younger, and we met through work), but to be fair, I also was NOT in a relationship with someone else at the time. We simply made a strong emotional connection, one that blossomed into something very real for the two of us, despite the years. For us, it felt natural-- it's not as though I sought after a much younger gal, it just sort of happened that the person I fell in love with was also someone a fair bit younger than me.
With your ex, however, he had to have known. So why, then? Obviously, he wasn't anywhere near as committed as you to the relationship. Maybe he had some sort of unresolved emotional issue inside, where he saw in a much younger girl the chance to recapture some sort of vitality or youth? Or could it be that he felt that the relationship had become stagnant for him, because he'd never really given himself fully to it, and found his wandering eye to be more than he could stand? For some people, the "grass is always greener," which doesn't mean your pasture is any less beautiful-- it just means that despite his obvious intelligence, he may lack a certain level of personal maturity. You can be a very intelligent person and still be an impetuous child, especially when you're a male.
Or, maybe, and I can't know for certain, but maybe-- she's the one for him, and the time was right, and age is, at certain points in one's life, merely another label. Meaning, then, that this is not and never was your fault-- it was just time for things to change, and maybe he's happy now and you'll be happier too. It's difficult to say, but you have to consider all possibilities.
You should not hold any of this against yourself, or feel any less worthy as a result of it. It's hard sometimes not to doubt oneself, particularly when you've been put aside in favor of something else (if this was indeed the problem), but the fault is not in you-- this guy acted like a selfish asshole, or this guy wasn't right for you, or this whole time had come and gone, and now it's time to learn, grow and move on.
Set your sights on the future, and learn from the past.
I hope this has helped you. Be well.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
I broke up with my long term, live in boyfriend last year because, among other things, he was carrying on what I believed to be an inappropriate relationship with a high school student who was the little sister of one of our friends. He insisted nothing was going on but now they are in a relationship so I think I was pretty much dead on. He is 26 and she is 18. I find this to be incredibly disgusting despite the techinical legality of the whole thing. My ex is incredibly smart, he graduated top of his class from a very prestigious university, is a two-time national debate champion and just finished a clerkship with a federal judge and is now working for the government in an important position. But, that being the case, how can he be so stupid and date a high school student? Is there something wrong with me that I dated such a creep? Thanks!
Sincerely,
Confused in the City
Dear Confused,
Let me first state that I am sorry to hear what you have been through, particularly with respect to the presumed (and likely) infidelity (emotional or otherwise). Ending a relationship is, more often than not, a very unpleasant and difficult thing, and situations such as these only make it that much harder. I do hope that you've found yourself the better for it.
I'll answer your twofold question in reverse order, because I can, and it seems easier that way. I don't believe that you should blame yourself, or that there is "something wrong" with you for having dated him. He was the one who wronged you, at least during the relationship. Obviously, the things he has done subsequent to the relationship are his own affair, no pun intended. Even if there was in fact "nothing" going on, and he merely considered the young lady a friend, he should have respected AT THE VERY LEAST that it made you uncomfortable. If he were truly committed to the relationship, he would have shown you the courtesy and respect due you by facing and addressing in a productive and unselfish fashion, or removing the situation. Relationships are ALWAYS supposed to be about compromise, which means sacrifices must be made particularly where outside forces (in this case, a high school girl) act as obstacles. The fact that he did NOT, according to your account, make the necessary changes proves at the least he is/was a selfish person who put his own wishes before your own and well ahead of the relationship itself, and also tends to imply that his unwillingness to make such a change in that circumstance might be indicative of actual infidelity, whether physical, emotional, or both. He wasn't willing to let go for a reason-- it isn't hard to imagine what those reasons might have been, particularly given the circumstances now.
As for WHY he would date a high school student? To that, I cannot say with certainty. I have to admit that the age difference between myself and my girlfriend of the last five years is exactly the same-- and a little math will probably make it clear that she was a high school senior when I started dating her, two weeks before my 26th birthday. At the time, we'd not really discussed the age difference (I thought she was older, she thought I was younger, and we met through work), but to be fair, I also was NOT in a relationship with someone else at the time. We simply made a strong emotional connection, one that blossomed into something very real for the two of us, despite the years. For us, it felt natural-- it's not as though I sought after a much younger gal, it just sort of happened that the person I fell in love with was also someone a fair bit younger than me.
With your ex, however, he had to have known. So why, then? Obviously, he wasn't anywhere near as committed as you to the relationship. Maybe he had some sort of unresolved emotional issue inside, where he saw in a much younger girl the chance to recapture some sort of vitality or youth? Or could it be that he felt that the relationship had become stagnant for him, because he'd never really given himself fully to it, and found his wandering eye to be more than he could stand? For some people, the "grass is always greener," which doesn't mean your pasture is any less beautiful-- it just means that despite his obvious intelligence, he may lack a certain level of personal maturity. You can be a very intelligent person and still be an impetuous child, especially when you're a male.
Or, maybe, and I can't know for certain, but maybe-- she's the one for him, and the time was right, and age is, at certain points in one's life, merely another label. Meaning, then, that this is not and never was your fault-- it was just time for things to change, and maybe he's happy now and you'll be happier too. It's difficult to say, but you have to consider all possibilities.
You should not hold any of this against yourself, or feel any less worthy as a result of it. It's hard sometimes not to doubt oneself, particularly when you've been put aside in favor of something else (if this was indeed the problem), but the fault is not in you-- this guy acted like a selfish asshole, or this guy wasn't right for you, or this whole time had come and gone, and now it's time to learn, grow and move on.
Set your sights on the future, and learn from the past.
I hope this has helped you. Be well.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Shorties, Anonymous, and Facebook: a collection of the brief.
*****Dear Readers-- what you are about to read is a list of random short questions asked of me, whether via anonymous emails (some nice, some fake, some douchey), or comments left on my facebook page. Thought I'd share, because, well, I want to, and this is MY blog. If you don't like it, you're probably not reading this anyway. So enjoy, friends. --The Doctor.*****
#1- Doctor: Itchy head.. Do I have lice? And if so, Will you pick them out? --T.
Dear T: Getting checked for lice is fun and easy-- those popsicle stick things they run through your hair kind of feel good on the scalp.
Lice-picking is a premium service, not included within the Dr. Sunday free project, but I could probably offer you a coupon or something. I'd also advise not wearing the other kids' hats. Love, Dr. Sunday
#2- Doctor Sunday: My question for you is... My boyfriend is turning 28 in August and I have no idea what to do for him. I know I want to do something very creative and adventurous but I'm running low on ideas. Any thoughts??? --M.
Dear M: Might I suggest, firstly, a surprise party, on a date at least one week prior to his birthday? I successfully caught my dear Claudia with a great surprise party by enlisting (without her knowledge) the help of a couple of her friends (whom she didn't know I had contact with; I used facebook and was VERY tricky). A surprise party ON the birthday would be too easily deduced.
Are we discussing a gift, an event, or a combination thereof? In my experience (as in, being a guy), I will tell you that nothing moves me more than an experience I can remember forever, or something I can hold onto and look back on repeatedly, whether it be a poem, a hand-made gift or hand-made card, or simply a letter on clever stationary. I'm the sentimental type, so a keepsake is a lot more meaningful to me than say, that video game I've been dying to play, which I'll play through once and then never again. I don't know if your man falls into that category, but that would certainly make your job easier.
Using your wits, you can guarantee the kind of birthday surprise for your boyfriend that he'll never forget.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
#3-- Doctor Sunday- Why are you such a homo? --Goat-Sodomizing Fuckbottle [identity edited by the editor because I fucking CAN]
Dear GSF,
It's 2009, why not? Dr. Sunday just loves people. Plus, you're really cute. Piss off, my dear Goat-Sodomizing Fuckbottle, and if you feel again like speaking to me, at least be funny. Keep reaching for that rainbow! --Dr. Sunday
#4-- Dr. Sunday, Where the hell did my pants go??????!@? --K.
Dear K.,
They are under my bed, in my box of keepsakes, because your love means so much to me that I can't imagine being able to part with them. I regret the necessity of sneaking up behind you with a chloroform soaked rag, just to steal your pants, but to be honest, after the roller coaster/whirlwind madness we shared, I simply didn't believe that you'd be willing to part with even such a simple keepsake.
Or maybe that was a joke. I'd advise looking through your laundry hamper aggressively, or looking under your bed. Normally, when I can't find an article of clothing, it has either been misfiled in my closet/dresser/etc, or buried somehow in my laundry, if not appropriated by my beloved cat as part of his fortress under my bed.
Hope this helps you.
Love,
Dr. Sunday
#5 Dr Sunday-- (*editor's note, spelling in this query has been corrected, and rather extensively at that): what is your problem with BC13? I read your post and you're just running your mouth like an asshole. no one asked you. --the dank knight
Dear "The Dank Knight,"
First off, yes, someone DID ask me. Secondly, you clearly didn't read the post thoroughly enough, but I'd blame that on the apparently severe level of cognitive disability you displayed so memorably across your email. Tell your mother or special needs provider that I told you to "write back when puberty hits, or functional literacy-- whichever comes first." Twat. Sincerely, Dr. Sunday.
PS- the "DANK KNIGHT?" seriously? dude. Wow.
*****And I'll close there. I've got more, but I'll save those for a future date. I'd once again like to remind you to feel free to ASK ME ANYTHING, and thank you, my dear readers, for making this blog such a fun and successful project.
Much love, and always listening,
Dr. Sunday*****
#1- Doctor: Itchy head.. Do I have lice? And if so, Will you pick them out? --T.
Dear T: Getting checked for lice is fun and easy-- those popsicle stick things they run through your hair kind of feel good on the scalp.
Lice-picking is a premium service, not included within the Dr. Sunday free project, but I could probably offer you a coupon or something. I'd also advise not wearing the other kids' hats. Love, Dr. Sunday
#2- Doctor Sunday: My question for you is... My boyfriend is turning 28 in August and I have no idea what to do for him. I know I want to do something very creative and adventurous but I'm running low on ideas. Any thoughts??? --M.
Dear M: Might I suggest, firstly, a surprise party, on a date at least one week prior to his birthday? I successfully caught my dear Claudia with a great surprise party by enlisting (without her knowledge) the help of a couple of her friends (whom she didn't know I had contact with; I used facebook and was VERY tricky). A surprise party ON the birthday would be too easily deduced.
Are we discussing a gift, an event, or a combination thereof? In my experience (as in, being a guy), I will tell you that nothing moves me more than an experience I can remember forever, or something I can hold onto and look back on repeatedly, whether it be a poem, a hand-made gift or hand-made card, or simply a letter on clever stationary. I'm the sentimental type, so a keepsake is a lot more meaningful to me than say, that video game I've been dying to play, which I'll play through once and then never again. I don't know if your man falls into that category, but that would certainly make your job easier.
Using your wits, you can guarantee the kind of birthday surprise for your boyfriend that he'll never forget.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
#3-- Doctor Sunday- Why are you such a homo? --Goat-Sodomizing Fuckbottle [identity edited by the editor because I fucking CAN]
Dear GSF,
It's 2009, why not? Dr. Sunday just loves people. Plus, you're really cute. Piss off, my dear Goat-Sodomizing Fuckbottle, and if you feel again like speaking to me, at least be funny. Keep reaching for that rainbow! --Dr. Sunday
#4-- Dr. Sunday, Where the hell did my pants go??????!@? --K.
Dear K.,
They are under my bed, in my box of keepsakes, because your love means so much to me that I can't imagine being able to part with them. I regret the necessity of sneaking up behind you with a chloroform soaked rag, just to steal your pants, but to be honest, after the roller coaster/whirlwind madness we shared, I simply didn't believe that you'd be willing to part with even such a simple keepsake.
Or maybe that was a joke. I'd advise looking through your laundry hamper aggressively, or looking under your bed. Normally, when I can't find an article of clothing, it has either been misfiled in my closet/dresser/etc, or buried somehow in my laundry, if not appropriated by my beloved cat as part of his fortress under my bed.
Hope this helps you.
Love,
Dr. Sunday
#5 Dr Sunday-- (*editor's note, spelling in this query has been corrected, and rather extensively at that): what is your problem with BC13? I read your post and you're just running your mouth like an asshole. no one asked you. --the dank knight
Dear "The Dank Knight,"
First off, yes, someone DID ask me. Secondly, you clearly didn't read the post thoroughly enough, but I'd blame that on the apparently severe level of cognitive disability you displayed so memorably across your email. Tell your mother or special needs provider that I told you to "write back when puberty hits, or functional literacy-- whichever comes first." Twat. Sincerely, Dr. Sunday.
PS- the "DANK KNIGHT?" seriously? dude. Wow.
*****And I'll close there. I've got more, but I'll save those for a future date. I'd once again like to remind you to feel free to ASK ME ANYTHING, and thank you, my dear readers, for making this blog such a fun and successful project.
Much love, and always listening,
Dr. Sunday*****
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Betrayed
Doctor Sunday:
A very good friend (metaphorically) threw me under the bus today, and I am having trouble letting it go. I don't really want to go into the details, but I'll say that we were involved in a somewhat stressful decision-situation, in which many of the other people involved were overreacting, and I was trying to be reasonable and convince everyone to stop and think before we acted in a reactionary way. This is not an unusual scenario with this group. Usually, I can count on him to be with me and help chill everyone out, but today, instead, he mocked me in front of all of them. (Essentially, "she's bitching and moaning so I guess we'll just have to wait till she stops crying") I already told him that I didn't appreciate this remark, and he sort of apologized, but I am still very bothered. How do I let this go? Much of this is the fact that I am disappointed in him, I expected more and now I feel as though I can't count on him anymore.
Betrayed
Dear Betrayed,
This is a very unpleasant experience indeed. Trust is the most important factor in any relationship, be it platonic, collaborative, romantic, or any combination thereof, and when that trust feels violated, it can be very difficult to regain, let alone to merely forgive/forget. Without knowing the full details of the situation, I can still perhaps suggest a couple of possibilities as to the "why," which may help you to let this go.
The first possible solution would involve, however, Dr. Sunday taking on the role of devil's advocate, so please bear with me and understand that I am in no ways trying to downplay the validity of your feelings. (Furthermore, let me apologize for utilizing both the third and first person in the prior sentence; this is not a habit of mine, but rather a narrative device meant under no circumstances to bely any sort of pretension in my nature above and beyond that which can be expected).
The thought here would be, given that this person has, in the past been a party upon which you could consistently rely in such straits, is it not possible that there are extenuating circumstances that led him to behave in a manner divergent from his norms? Not to excuse his behavior, but rather to explain it as rather the byproduct of something external and not to be taken personally? Either way, he owes you an apology, but consider: perhaps said party had one of those mornings that seems a modern remake of the Book of Job; rises to find that his spacious and reasonable apartment has become flooded from a backup in the plumbing, leading to black water, ankle deep, which has ruined his collection of novels and caused an electrical fire which, among other things, destroyed his computer, suffocated his dog, immolated his Playstation, and caused his alarm clock to fail catastrophically.
Of course I exaggerate, but the point meant to be illustrated here is thus: if a person acts contrary to their nature, or to your expectations of their nature (given past circumstances), is it not reasonable to posit that there may be factors present of which you simply know little, or nothing? The course of action here is plain, if this hypothesis is correct: allow this person time to collect himself, and perhaps inquire, on a friendly level, of his well-being. Unless seriously dire forces are at work, it is entirely reasonable to assume that the individual will realize his mistake and perhaps even offer a well-deserved apology. If this is a friend, you have a right to ask of his well-being, and indeed to push further still, if you deem it necessary or appropriate, wherein you confront him directly and state that you found his attitude and comments inappropriate.
Speaking personally, I find such attitudes to be reprehensible, and borderline misogynist. This may not necessarily be the case, but you have every right to feel as you do, and the important thing to take with you from this (which would also lead into my second suggestion) is that you have a different, and perhaps broader perspective on the way this person deals with situations where stress is a factor.
I was raised to believe that in any circumstance, one treats one's peers with respect, wherever possible; and REacting based on base emotional state (i.e. blowing up at, or ridiculing another because you're "in a shitty mood") is simply inappropriate. In my own personal and professional life, I've striven to avoid such reactive attitudes and actions, but it's far easier said than done.
My second suggestion is the more difficult, but ultimately the more pragmatic; it is simply that knowing now what you know of this person, accept the knowledge for what it is, acknowledge the way it makes you feel, and deal with it in the fashion you deem least destructive. To give you an example, were I in your shoes, I'd wait exactly twenty-four hours, and if an apology or some extenuating circumstance has not come to light, I'd confront this person directly and state my feelings on the matter. I'd take that twenty-four hours to remind myself that nothing in this world is ever certain, and that the nature of trust is that it is tenuous-- this is both its beauty and its curse. Trust is a soap bubble from a plastic wand; beautiful as it floats, iridescent as the light strikes, a thing of magic for the entirety of its existence-- but to carry the metaphor further, bubbles eventually pop, at one point or another, and you can always blow another, I suppose. The conceit sort of loses momentum at this point, because I can't figure out how to tie in that orange plastic bottle, sticky to your fingers, with the fact that you have to strike a balance between trust and observation. You can easily let go of a broken trust by saying "fuck it, I'm on my own, people suck," thus giving up all expectations of other humans, for now, for a time, or forever-- but you'd be wrong in this, and selling yourself short on the human experience. You can also forgive anything and everything, but eventually that leads to you being taken advantage of by even those nearest and dearest-- which sort of defeats the purpose of letting anyone become near, let alone dear.
I suppose the best I can say here is this, and I hope it helps: listen to your heart. Rely on yourself, and smile when others back you up. You've been wronged-- what would make YOU feel better about it? You can confront a person who has wronged you without causing further trouble, but your heart is, regardless, going to desire an answer, a reason, a rationale for this behavior. Think about what would satisfy you, and make a plan. Again, in your shoes, I'd wait that time, try to find my calm and rational center, and compose my manner for approaching the person in question should he fail to take action within those twenty-four hours.
How a person behaves in the most trying times, is the true test of a person's character. While this may not console your disappointment in full, it at least gives you the time to reflect, and perhaps to consider of your own self: how do I behave in trying times? We've all failed, we've all spoken harshly when we didn't mean to, and we've all said things we wish hadn't (whether immediately or some time later). I always give the benefit of the doubt, but my compassion is pro-rated based on 1) how well I regard the person, 2) how long I've known them, and lastly 3) how regularly I'm going to have to deal with them.
I hope this helps, and if you need further advice, or want to discuss this further, you know how to reach me.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
A very good friend (metaphorically) threw me under the bus today, and I am having trouble letting it go. I don't really want to go into the details, but I'll say that we were involved in a somewhat stressful decision-situation, in which many of the other people involved were overreacting, and I was trying to be reasonable and convince everyone to stop and think before we acted in a reactionary way. This is not an unusual scenario with this group. Usually, I can count on him to be with me and help chill everyone out, but today, instead, he mocked me in front of all of them. (Essentially, "she's bitching and moaning so I guess we'll just have to wait till she stops crying") I already told him that I didn't appreciate this remark, and he sort of apologized, but I am still very bothered. How do I let this go? Much of this is the fact that I am disappointed in him, I expected more and now I feel as though I can't count on him anymore.
Betrayed
Dear Betrayed,
This is a very unpleasant experience indeed. Trust is the most important factor in any relationship, be it platonic, collaborative, romantic, or any combination thereof, and when that trust feels violated, it can be very difficult to regain, let alone to merely forgive/forget. Without knowing the full details of the situation, I can still perhaps suggest a couple of possibilities as to the "why," which may help you to let this go.
The first possible solution would involve, however, Dr. Sunday taking on the role of devil's advocate, so please bear with me and understand that I am in no ways trying to downplay the validity of your feelings. (Furthermore, let me apologize for utilizing both the third and first person in the prior sentence; this is not a habit of mine, but rather a narrative device meant under no circumstances to bely any sort of pretension in my nature above and beyond that which can be expected).
The thought here would be, given that this person has, in the past been a party upon which you could consistently rely in such straits, is it not possible that there are extenuating circumstances that led him to behave in a manner divergent from his norms? Not to excuse his behavior, but rather to explain it as rather the byproduct of something external and not to be taken personally? Either way, he owes you an apology, but consider: perhaps said party had one of those mornings that seems a modern remake of the Book of Job; rises to find that his spacious and reasonable apartment has become flooded from a backup in the plumbing, leading to black water, ankle deep, which has ruined his collection of novels and caused an electrical fire which, among other things, destroyed his computer, suffocated his dog, immolated his Playstation, and caused his alarm clock to fail catastrophically.
Of course I exaggerate, but the point meant to be illustrated here is thus: if a person acts contrary to their nature, or to your expectations of their nature (given past circumstances), is it not reasonable to posit that there may be factors present of which you simply know little, or nothing? The course of action here is plain, if this hypothesis is correct: allow this person time to collect himself, and perhaps inquire, on a friendly level, of his well-being. Unless seriously dire forces are at work, it is entirely reasonable to assume that the individual will realize his mistake and perhaps even offer a well-deserved apology. If this is a friend, you have a right to ask of his well-being, and indeed to push further still, if you deem it necessary or appropriate, wherein you confront him directly and state that you found his attitude and comments inappropriate.
Speaking personally, I find such attitudes to be reprehensible, and borderline misogynist. This may not necessarily be the case, but you have every right to feel as you do, and the important thing to take with you from this (which would also lead into my second suggestion) is that you have a different, and perhaps broader perspective on the way this person deals with situations where stress is a factor.
I was raised to believe that in any circumstance, one treats one's peers with respect, wherever possible; and REacting based on base emotional state (i.e. blowing up at, or ridiculing another because you're "in a shitty mood") is simply inappropriate. In my own personal and professional life, I've striven to avoid such reactive attitudes and actions, but it's far easier said than done.
My second suggestion is the more difficult, but ultimately the more pragmatic; it is simply that knowing now what you know of this person, accept the knowledge for what it is, acknowledge the way it makes you feel, and deal with it in the fashion you deem least destructive. To give you an example, were I in your shoes, I'd wait exactly twenty-four hours, and if an apology or some extenuating circumstance has not come to light, I'd confront this person directly and state my feelings on the matter. I'd take that twenty-four hours to remind myself that nothing in this world is ever certain, and that the nature of trust is that it is tenuous-- this is both its beauty and its curse. Trust is a soap bubble from a plastic wand; beautiful as it floats, iridescent as the light strikes, a thing of magic for the entirety of its existence-- but to carry the metaphor further, bubbles eventually pop, at one point or another, and you can always blow another, I suppose. The conceit sort of loses momentum at this point, because I can't figure out how to tie in that orange plastic bottle, sticky to your fingers, with the fact that you have to strike a balance between trust and observation. You can easily let go of a broken trust by saying "fuck it, I'm on my own, people suck," thus giving up all expectations of other humans, for now, for a time, or forever-- but you'd be wrong in this, and selling yourself short on the human experience. You can also forgive anything and everything, but eventually that leads to you being taken advantage of by even those nearest and dearest-- which sort of defeats the purpose of letting anyone become near, let alone dear.
I suppose the best I can say here is this, and I hope it helps: listen to your heart. Rely on yourself, and smile when others back you up. You've been wronged-- what would make YOU feel better about it? You can confront a person who has wronged you without causing further trouble, but your heart is, regardless, going to desire an answer, a reason, a rationale for this behavior. Think about what would satisfy you, and make a plan. Again, in your shoes, I'd wait that time, try to find my calm and rational center, and compose my manner for approaching the person in question should he fail to take action within those twenty-four hours.
How a person behaves in the most trying times, is the true test of a person's character. While this may not console your disappointment in full, it at least gives you the time to reflect, and perhaps to consider of your own self: how do I behave in trying times? We've all failed, we've all spoken harshly when we didn't mean to, and we've all said things we wish hadn't (whether immediately or some time later). I always give the benefit of the doubt, but my compassion is pro-rated based on 1) how well I regard the person, 2) how long I've known them, and lastly 3) how regularly I'm going to have to deal with them.
I hope this helps, and if you need further advice, or want to discuss this further, you know how to reach me.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
Friday, August 28, 2009
How to make your eye stop twitching.
Dear Dr. Sunday...
My eye is twitching. Specifically my right eye. And even more specifically the lower lid of my right eye...just about in the center of it. This has been going on for MONTHS....way too many months. One friend said to eat a banana. I"m turning into a monkey. Another friend suggested I am too stressed out. At this very moment my eye is twitching and if I was any less stressed out I would be Buddha. Hence I bring myself to your office to inquire as to what I can do to make this stop before I put a fork in it and call it done.
Thanks so much....
~Twitchy
Dear Twitchy,
An excellent question, and one I've had cause to answer numerous times in my life. Fortunately, I come from a family that is as steeped in folkloric wisdom as it is in traditional, practical methods.
According to some sources, twitching under your right eye means you are going to see something that you should pay attention to-- something will transpire within your peripheral vision, literally or figuratively, that if you aren't paying attention, you could miss out on totally. Of course, I've also heard, from less folksy sources, that the under eye twitching (which is called, by the way, myokymia, has not ever really been linked conclusively to any one specific cause. Like zits, it's been tied to stress, caffeine, bad diet, lack of sleep, too much sleep, lack of exercise, too much exercise, lack of sex, too much... well, you get the picture.
Translation: no one really knows WHY, we just have our best guesses based on evidence which may or may not be anything more than coincidence. "Well, it only happens when I'm awake, so maybe it's being conscious that does it? Damn, I guess I better sleep more." That sort of thing. Point is, it happens, you get it, lots of people do, and it's more common in females than it is in males, but only slightly. When it happens in both eyes at once, or starts to twitch an entire part of your face, that's when to seek legitimate medical attention.
Since it's only in one eye, it's not anything TOO much to worry about. The EASIEST way to deal with it is to try the practical approach. A warm washcloth, held over the offending eye, while you gently massage with small circles the lower eyelid should relieve the twitching. This often resolves it immediately, but not always-- in which case you just do it again, later in the day. Do this as often as needed-- don't be afraid to show that pesky eyelid who really wears the trousers in your face.
If it is intense enough to really drive you crazy, you can use the kinds of allergy eye drops available over the counter at pharmacies, preferably the kinds of drops which have an antihistamine component. This won't cure it in and of itself, but it can reduce the intensity of the muscle reaction, allowing you to make some headway.
Personally, I've ALWAYS had success with the warm washcloth method, and never had to do it for more than a day or two. If that fails, try the old fashioned method-- take the oldest penny you can find, face north with the offending eye closed, and rub southward down the face of the penny, as quickly as you can. When the penny gets warm, hold it against your eye, and whisper your desire (my eye to stop twitching) fifty times. I think you have to drink cow's milk and light a candle, too, but I might have my folk magicks mixed up here.
Hmm... Probably just go get a washcloth warm/wet, instead, yeah? I hope this helps you.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
My eye is twitching. Specifically my right eye. And even more specifically the lower lid of my right eye...just about in the center of it. This has been going on for MONTHS....way too many months. One friend said to eat a banana. I"m turning into a monkey. Another friend suggested I am too stressed out. At this very moment my eye is twitching and if I was any less stressed out I would be Buddha. Hence I bring myself to your office to inquire as to what I can do to make this stop before I put a fork in it and call it done.
Thanks so much....
~Twitchy
Dear Twitchy,
An excellent question, and one I've had cause to answer numerous times in my life. Fortunately, I come from a family that is as steeped in folkloric wisdom as it is in traditional, practical methods.
According to some sources, twitching under your right eye means you are going to see something that you should pay attention to-- something will transpire within your peripheral vision, literally or figuratively, that if you aren't paying attention, you could miss out on totally. Of course, I've also heard, from less folksy sources, that the under eye twitching (which is called, by the way, myokymia, has not ever really been linked conclusively to any one specific cause. Like zits, it's been tied to stress, caffeine, bad diet, lack of sleep, too much sleep, lack of exercise, too much exercise, lack of sex, too much... well, you get the picture.
Translation: no one really knows WHY, we just have our best guesses based on evidence which may or may not be anything more than coincidence. "Well, it only happens when I'm awake, so maybe it's being conscious that does it? Damn, I guess I better sleep more." That sort of thing. Point is, it happens, you get it, lots of people do, and it's more common in females than it is in males, but only slightly. When it happens in both eyes at once, or starts to twitch an entire part of your face, that's when to seek legitimate medical attention.
Since it's only in one eye, it's not anything TOO much to worry about. The EASIEST way to deal with it is to try the practical approach. A warm washcloth, held over the offending eye, while you gently massage with small circles the lower eyelid should relieve the twitching. This often resolves it immediately, but not always-- in which case you just do it again, later in the day. Do this as often as needed-- don't be afraid to show that pesky eyelid who really wears the trousers in your face.
If it is intense enough to really drive you crazy, you can use the kinds of allergy eye drops available over the counter at pharmacies, preferably the kinds of drops which have an antihistamine component. This won't cure it in and of itself, but it can reduce the intensity of the muscle reaction, allowing you to make some headway.
Personally, I've ALWAYS had success with the warm washcloth method, and never had to do it for more than a day or two. If that fails, try the old fashioned method-- take the oldest penny you can find, face north with the offending eye closed, and rub southward down the face of the penny, as quickly as you can. When the penny gets warm, hold it against your eye, and whisper your desire (my eye to stop twitching) fifty times. I think you have to drink cow's milk and light a candle, too, but I might have my folk magicks mixed up here.
Hmm... Probably just go get a washcloth warm/wet, instead, yeah? I hope this helps you.
Always Listening,
Dr. Sunday
Dungeons & Dragons
Dear Dr. Sunday,
I was wondering why you play Dungeons & Dragons? I would also like to know the back story of your character (I heard his name is Bubbles). That is all.
Love,
Your local Dungeon Master
Dear Local DM,
Yes, it is indeed true that among the many pleasures and private, personal pursuits of the good Doctor, I can often be found rolling the dice with a close-knit group of my most dear and cherished friends. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Some might call such a thing a "guilty pleasure"-- but for me, if it's a pleasure, why should I feel guilty about it?
The whole point of life is enjoyment and personal growth. Well, that and other things, but that's the simplest way to explain the most basic of aspects of human nature. There's a lot to be found in this world, and among the deepest treasures in the rich galleries of life, are the gifts of the human mind and imagination. So, for the same reason that I can't seem to put down my guitar, or stay up late into the wee hours of the morning poring over pages or laptop keys, and have fingered scarred from art scalpels or pins/needles, burned by glue guns, I find my pleasures where I will-- in the realms of the mind as much as of the body.
Playing D&D with my friends is the kind of pursuit that not only makes us smile, laugh, and engage one another, but also provides that close-knit bond of family, something deeply lacking in people of our generation. These are interesting times in which we live, and we must find our own ways to reestablish that drive to family/tribal unit/village that has been taken from the modern person living in more urbanized areas. We form cliques and groups, rotating casts of characters that fade in and out united by fashion or music or love of alcohol-- and that's fine. For me, D&D is something much the same. For our little group, it is as much a pleasure pursuit as it is one more excuse for us all to come together.
Beyond that, it's a callback to the youth that our generation refuses to relinquish. We hold onto those things that keep us young and vital. Lifestyle becomes much more a motivational factor, and thus we choose the lifestyle that fits us best, accessorizing with toys and games and locations and dreams, which we wear like insignia, a complex shibboleth. We choose our faces and dialects in a way that makes sense only in the context of ourselves. This, then, D&D, is just one more way for us to pursue the elusive spectres of happiness that flit in and out of our periphery.
Plus, it's really fucking fun.
To answer the second part of your question, yes, my character's name is Bubbles.
Bubbles is a Warlord of the Tiefling race (something like the above picture), who travels with a group of adventurers who he happens to know from high school. Bubbles wasn't particularly popular in high school, because he was introverted and snide, mostly because he had a quietly cynical attitude, and believed he knew better than everyone else. Plus, a bookish type, he regularly got picked on by the "normals." In his adult years, he came more into his own, but developed a bit of a bossy attitude, which manifests itself as a sort of misguided compassion-- he tells everyone else what to do because he KNOWS he knows better, and wants to do the right thing always. Sometimes, in his minutes just before drifting off to sleep, he imagines himself in another world where he provides advice to friends and strangers, though in a much more handsome and less cynical fashion. Bubbles enjoys good food, but prefers to dine in quiet places, where the wait staff never asks "does everything taste good tonight?" while he has a mouth full of food (he abhors bad manners like that). While he may not always smile, he never hesitates to bestow kindnesses on those closest to him. He's got an amazing singing voice, too-- a rich, velvety baritone; expressive and sensual without any hint of excesses in showmanship.
And that, friends, is that. Yes, I play D&D. No, I won't apologize-- it's a great way to spend time with the people who matter most. That makes it awesome.
I hope this has helped you.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
I was wondering why you play Dungeons & Dragons? I would also like to know the back story of your character (I heard his name is Bubbles). That is all.
Love,
Your local Dungeon Master
Dear Local DM,
Yes, it is indeed true that among the many pleasures and private, personal pursuits of the good Doctor, I can often be found rolling the dice with a close-knit group of my most dear and cherished friends. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Some might call such a thing a "guilty pleasure"-- but for me, if it's a pleasure, why should I feel guilty about it?
The whole point of life is enjoyment and personal growth. Well, that and other things, but that's the simplest way to explain the most basic of aspects of human nature. There's a lot to be found in this world, and among the deepest treasures in the rich galleries of life, are the gifts of the human mind and imagination. So, for the same reason that I can't seem to put down my guitar, or stay up late into the wee hours of the morning poring over pages or laptop keys, and have fingered scarred from art scalpels or pins/needles, burned by glue guns, I find my pleasures where I will-- in the realms of the mind as much as of the body.
Playing D&D with my friends is the kind of pursuit that not only makes us smile, laugh, and engage one another, but also provides that close-knit bond of family, something deeply lacking in people of our generation. These are interesting times in which we live, and we must find our own ways to reestablish that drive to family/tribal unit/village that has been taken from the modern person living in more urbanized areas. We form cliques and groups, rotating casts of characters that fade in and out united by fashion or music or love of alcohol-- and that's fine. For me, D&D is something much the same. For our little group, it is as much a pleasure pursuit as it is one more excuse for us all to come together.
Beyond that, it's a callback to the youth that our generation refuses to relinquish. We hold onto those things that keep us young and vital. Lifestyle becomes much more a motivational factor, and thus we choose the lifestyle that fits us best, accessorizing with toys and games and locations and dreams, which we wear like insignia, a complex shibboleth. We choose our faces and dialects in a way that makes sense only in the context of ourselves. This, then, D&D, is just one more way for us to pursue the elusive spectres of happiness that flit in and out of our periphery.
Plus, it's really fucking fun.
To answer the second part of your question, yes, my character's name is Bubbles.
Bubbles is a Warlord of the Tiefling race (something like the above picture), who travels with a group of adventurers who he happens to know from high school. Bubbles wasn't particularly popular in high school, because he was introverted and snide, mostly because he had a quietly cynical attitude, and believed he knew better than everyone else. Plus, a bookish type, he regularly got picked on by the "normals." In his adult years, he came more into his own, but developed a bit of a bossy attitude, which manifests itself as a sort of misguided compassion-- he tells everyone else what to do because he KNOWS he knows better, and wants to do the right thing always. Sometimes, in his minutes just before drifting off to sleep, he imagines himself in another world where he provides advice to friends and strangers, though in a much more handsome and less cynical fashion. Bubbles enjoys good food, but prefers to dine in quiet places, where the wait staff never asks "does everything taste good tonight?" while he has a mouth full of food (he abhors bad manners like that). While he may not always smile, he never hesitates to bestow kindnesses on those closest to him. He's got an amazing singing voice, too-- a rich, velvety baritone; expressive and sensual without any hint of excesses in showmanship.
And that, friends, is that. Yes, I play D&D. No, I won't apologize-- it's a great way to spend time with the people who matter most. That makes it awesome.
I hope this has helped you.
Always listening,
Dr. Sunday
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Huddled in a Corner
Dear Dr. Sunday,
I've been having an incredibly tough time of things lately. I recently
found out my mom has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and today she went in to have an operation, only to discover that the cancer had spread (marginally) to her lymph nodes. My entire family has been
pulling through this in such a cavalier manner, but truthfully I just don't think that we know how to discuss it. Being the oldest, I feel like it's my responsibility to be the iron lung for my family, if you
will. However, I just found out some disturbing news of my own; not having health insurance, I have to rely on Planned Parenthood for my ladylike checkup needs. They informed me that on my last pap smear,
they found "severe dysplaysia," meaning that I could possibly have cervical cancer, or nothing at all. Doctors, right? The WORST part is that, in order to find out whether or not it definitely IS cancer,
they have to take a sample which costs $300; I can barely afford my
rent each month, and I'm supposed to pay for a $300 medical procedure?
Right. Uh huh. I haven't told my family about it, because it would only add to their worries (I guess that's the FINAL worst part).
The kicker is that I feel like my friends have, for the most part, completely drifted away from me over the last couple months. I have no one, save for my roommate and a completely close, dear girlfriend of
mine, to talk to this about. I feel like I've done something totally wrong, which would be an entirely separate 'Dear Dr. Sunday' post. I'm completely trapped, clawing at the inside of my head, with nowhere to
go. How do I talk about this to someone? Anyone? Bueller?
-Huddled in a Corner in Clifton
Dear Huddled,
There's a lot to cover here, and I'll do my absolute best to address every point. Let me start by offering you my moral and spiritual support, for you, your family, and especially your mother. Cancer is a scary prospect even in the best of times, but it's important to keep a positive attitude, because while science can't always take care of the problem, there is plenty of evidence to support the idea that a positive mindset in trying times, especially when coupled with a solid support network, such as a family being as sensitive to the needs of the survivor as possible, while remaining positive themselves.
Now, as far as the feeling that no one is really discussing the matter, or that the issue isn't being faced directly, I will say two things. Thing one, I'm playing devil's advocate: there are as many ways of facing trying times as there are people to face them. Example: I've had some deaths in my family in recent years, more than I wish-- and my father and I, in the best of times, often don't relate the best. I am one to cry when hurt, to share my feelings with my friends, and to give equal time both to confronting my emotions as to trying to be of cheer (cheering myself up, letting friends and close loved ones cheer me, or merely distracting myself to recharge my batteries, so to speak). My father, however, will talk only to my mother about his feelings, and put on the bravest face possible for everyone else, because this is how he sees himself, and how he feels it is best to meet a crisis; not just for himself, but for his family: his wife, three sons, two daughters, and four granddaughters. If this is a recent development, as you said, then perhaps the "cavalier" manner of coping that your family has thus far adopted may simply be the first phase of their response, or may simply be the best they can do-- at the moment.
Of course, this doesn't mean that you have to simply allow this to continue. While "sweeping things under the rug" may be a time-honored Midwest/American tradition, it's not the best way to deal, by any means. Without knowing the specific dynamic of your family, let me make you a few suggestions for opening dialogue within your family, and if nothing else, let the above statements remind you that sometimes, things are as they must be, thus you must rely upon your own reservoirs of strength, which are great.
Being an oldest child myself, I can relate to your position in your family. This gives you a unique opportunity, of course, to take advantage of being the oldest child-- here's how. Firstly, go to your mother-- MAKE her a card, not to say "get well" but just to say "Mom, I love you, thanks for being amazing." I don't know how she's facing the crisis, or if she's merely doing as the rest of your family, but if you spend a little one-on-one time with her, you can tell her that you're proud of her courage, and that you're praying for her/wishing her well/lighting candles/sacrificing goats/whatever the custom is in your family circumstance. It may seem like a simple thing, but making the gesture is going to do worlds of good for both of you. Then, perhaps you have lunch with your father, or a phone call, or go over to the house and make some dinner for everyone, as you have time. You can meet with siblings or daddy privately, to get into some depth, ask how they're holding up BUT MAKE SURE that you volunteer your OWN feelings in these exchanges, because it opens dialogue and loosens reticent lips. Those more direct approaches are great, but at the very least, making sure that you're visibly showing concern WITH support (making dinner, stopping by to visit, being kind and generous in the best way that you can) will go miles towards opening that door for your whole family, and helping your mother in her recovery.
These are easy things, certainly, and cost you very little financially OR personally-- but trust me, it'll make a difference, as long as you're consistent.
Regarding your concern with Planned Parenthood and the possibility of cancer in your own life, I can offer a few suggestions as well. Firstly, I wish you well, and hope for the best in your health-- but you need to get that test done. How can you do this? Here are my thoughts:
Thought one: Ask your father, privately, without informing the rest of your family. I know that you're concerned about bringing this up with your family, to spare them the worries, but let's be completely frank here-- your father would rather find out that two women he loves well are suffering BUT BEING TREATED, than find that while his wife has recovered, his firstborn daughter is facing the possibility of serious health complications, up to and including DEATH, because she didn't get treated in time. I don't say that to scare you-- please don't mistake me. I've lost two family members in recent years because they didn't want to face the financial implications of seeing a doctor when things STARTED getting scary. That's not an exaggeration. So ask your father for help, if you think he can help you, at least financially, but ask him to hold that in confidence. He'll be glad you trusted him enough to turn to him, and while he'll be concerned, he loves you enough to do the fatherly thing and take care of you.
Thought two: You're clearly working a job right now that doesn't pay you enough for your expenses. Granted, this is a tricky and trying job market/economy, but have you considered the possibility of going to work in an environment where insurance comes from day one? I've got several friends who work in "call center" environments, which, admittedly, aren't the most fun jobs in the world, but tend to have healthcare benefits attached from the first day, as do those of larger corporations-- especially national banks. You could, potentially, get a job by submitting an online application, begin training, and sign up for your benefits ASAP-- and use them. Even if you're only doing it as a means to an end, it's worth it, if it saves your health, or even your life.
Thought three: I don't know how Planned Parenthood works as far as billing/payment go, but if you throw yourself on the mercy of the office, you might be able to put yourself in a payment plan. Call and ask them, stating clearly your concerns-- speak to the doctor, and see what he has to say, what suggestions, if any he might have in this regard. Most doctors, despite being incomprehensible and baffling to the general public, ("it could be cervical cancer-- or nothing at all. Give me $300") are good people who get into their line of work because they want to HELP. I know lots of people who are in RIDICULOUSLY easy payment plans for medical procedures ($20 a month against a few grand, you can swing-- just eat peanut butter sandwiches for lunch a couple times a week, and you're there). It'd be great to think this might work, but just bear it in mind and be honest about your financial circumstances. You don't have to prostrate yourself and grovel-- just ask. The worst thing that happens, you get told "I'm sorry, ma'am" and have to use one of the other options.
Were it me, I'd speak to your father first, but only you know what is best for you in that matter, or what you're willing/capable of doing. Keep your resolve strong, make your choice, and stick with it. You will not fail, I can assure you of that.
Now. Regarding your friends, let me say-- it sucks, being isolated, for whatever reason, whether as the result of something you may have done (right, wrong, or indifferent), or merely because the world moves, shit happens, and life goes on for others. It's a terrible feeling, when you can perceive that unpleasant distance between your friends and yourself. So how do you talk about it? How do you find an outlet? There are a few ideas I would have for you, and I hope one fits you well.
You say that your roommate and a close girlfriend are there for you. Perhaps those friends are ones with whom you might spend more time. Get outside your comfortable social circle and see what the world has to offer. It's easy to lean on familiar shoulders-- but ultimately, you hear the kind of advice you'd expect from people who know you as well as you know them. Sure, your roomie probably is close, and you've met his or her crew, maybe they're right and maybe not. What about asking that girlfriend to take you somewhere new, do something outside of your norms? What about other friends who might have drifted away, not as a result of any direct action you've taken, but rather as a result of the not-quite-parallel lines that human lives lead? Call someone and ask them out for coffee. Invite them to something that takes you both to something new, or takes you somewhere that you can find an opportunity to expand who you are. You are only as alone as you let yourself be. Think laterally, think creatively. If the familiar isn't as friendly, spread out. Do something new. Change the landscape, even if you can't move out of the city. You have the power to do anything you choose-- it just takes two things: one, the choice, and two, the will to pursue. Don't forget it.
Alternatively, if you can't just ask someone to listen to you, you could always deal with your concerns in an artistic fashion. Maybe you write poetry, maybe you write prose; maybe you make ninjas out of pantyhose. Only you know what is going to bleed the pressure out of your pipes, so to speak, but don't let worry or fear impede you from doing whatever you have to do to make yourself feel right again. You're a strong and articulate person-- I don't think you're as trapped as you think you are; it's really just about how you perceive your environment. Maybe you just need to stop looking at the bars of the cage, and start considering how far apart those bars really are-- and where you can slip out, or how you can get a message to the outside, so someone can come and unlock that prison.
I know this has been a rather lengthy response, but to be fair, you started it! I'm kidding. I don't mind EVER offering the best advice I can, and I hope this has helped you. And if you have any further questions for me, as you implied, don't hesitate to ask.
Dr. Sunday is always listening. I wish you and your family well.
Sincerely,
Dr. Sunday
I've been having an incredibly tough time of things lately. I recently
found out my mom has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and today she went in to have an operation, only to discover that the cancer had spread (marginally) to her lymph nodes. My entire family has been
pulling through this in such a cavalier manner, but truthfully I just don't think that we know how to discuss it. Being the oldest, I feel like it's my responsibility to be the iron lung for my family, if you
will. However, I just found out some disturbing news of my own; not having health insurance, I have to rely on Planned Parenthood for my ladylike checkup needs. They informed me that on my last pap smear,
they found "severe dysplaysia," meaning that I could possibly have cervical cancer, or nothing at all. Doctors, right? The WORST part is that, in order to find out whether or not it definitely IS cancer,
they have to take a sample which costs $300; I can barely afford my
rent each month, and I'm supposed to pay for a $300 medical procedure?
Right. Uh huh. I haven't told my family about it, because it would only add to their worries (I guess that's the FINAL worst part).
The kicker is that I feel like my friends have, for the most part, completely drifted away from me over the last couple months. I have no one, save for my roommate and a completely close, dear girlfriend of
mine, to talk to this about. I feel like I've done something totally wrong, which would be an entirely separate 'Dear Dr. Sunday' post. I'm completely trapped, clawing at the inside of my head, with nowhere to
go. How do I talk about this to someone? Anyone? Bueller?
-Huddled in a Corner in Clifton
Dear Huddled,
There's a lot to cover here, and I'll do my absolute best to address every point. Let me start by offering you my moral and spiritual support, for you, your family, and especially your mother. Cancer is a scary prospect even in the best of times, but it's important to keep a positive attitude, because while science can't always take care of the problem, there is plenty of evidence to support the idea that a positive mindset in trying times, especially when coupled with a solid support network, such as a family being as sensitive to the needs of the survivor as possible, while remaining positive themselves.
Now, as far as the feeling that no one is really discussing the matter, or that the issue isn't being faced directly, I will say two things. Thing one, I'm playing devil's advocate: there are as many ways of facing trying times as there are people to face them. Example: I've had some deaths in my family in recent years, more than I wish-- and my father and I, in the best of times, often don't relate the best. I am one to cry when hurt, to share my feelings with my friends, and to give equal time both to confronting my emotions as to trying to be of cheer (cheering myself up, letting friends and close loved ones cheer me, or merely distracting myself to recharge my batteries, so to speak). My father, however, will talk only to my mother about his feelings, and put on the bravest face possible for everyone else, because this is how he sees himself, and how he feels it is best to meet a crisis; not just for himself, but for his family: his wife, three sons, two daughters, and four granddaughters. If this is a recent development, as you said, then perhaps the "cavalier" manner of coping that your family has thus far adopted may simply be the first phase of their response, or may simply be the best they can do-- at the moment.
Of course, this doesn't mean that you have to simply allow this to continue. While "sweeping things under the rug" may be a time-honored Midwest/American tradition, it's not the best way to deal, by any means. Without knowing the specific dynamic of your family, let me make you a few suggestions for opening dialogue within your family, and if nothing else, let the above statements remind you that sometimes, things are as they must be, thus you must rely upon your own reservoirs of strength, which are great.
Being an oldest child myself, I can relate to your position in your family. This gives you a unique opportunity, of course, to take advantage of being the oldest child-- here's how. Firstly, go to your mother-- MAKE her a card, not to say "get well" but just to say "Mom, I love you, thanks for being amazing." I don't know how she's facing the crisis, or if she's merely doing as the rest of your family, but if you spend a little one-on-one time with her, you can tell her that you're proud of her courage, and that you're praying for her/wishing her well/lighting candles/sacrificing goats/whatever the custom is in your family circumstance. It may seem like a simple thing, but making the gesture is going to do worlds of good for both of you. Then, perhaps you have lunch with your father, or a phone call, or go over to the house and make some dinner for everyone, as you have time. You can meet with siblings or daddy privately, to get into some depth, ask how they're holding up BUT MAKE SURE that you volunteer your OWN feelings in these exchanges, because it opens dialogue and loosens reticent lips. Those more direct approaches are great, but at the very least, making sure that you're visibly showing concern WITH support (making dinner, stopping by to visit, being kind and generous in the best way that you can) will go miles towards opening that door for your whole family, and helping your mother in her recovery.
These are easy things, certainly, and cost you very little financially OR personally-- but trust me, it'll make a difference, as long as you're consistent.
Regarding your concern with Planned Parenthood and the possibility of cancer in your own life, I can offer a few suggestions as well. Firstly, I wish you well, and hope for the best in your health-- but you need to get that test done. How can you do this? Here are my thoughts:
Thought one: Ask your father, privately, without informing the rest of your family. I know that you're concerned about bringing this up with your family, to spare them the worries, but let's be completely frank here-- your father would rather find out that two women he loves well are suffering BUT BEING TREATED, than find that while his wife has recovered, his firstborn daughter is facing the possibility of serious health complications, up to and including DEATH, because she didn't get treated in time. I don't say that to scare you-- please don't mistake me. I've lost two family members in recent years because they didn't want to face the financial implications of seeing a doctor when things STARTED getting scary. That's not an exaggeration. So ask your father for help, if you think he can help you, at least financially, but ask him to hold that in confidence. He'll be glad you trusted him enough to turn to him, and while he'll be concerned, he loves you enough to do the fatherly thing and take care of you.
Thought two: You're clearly working a job right now that doesn't pay you enough for your expenses. Granted, this is a tricky and trying job market/economy, but have you considered the possibility of going to work in an environment where insurance comes from day one? I've got several friends who work in "call center" environments, which, admittedly, aren't the most fun jobs in the world, but tend to have healthcare benefits attached from the first day, as do those of larger corporations-- especially national banks. You could, potentially, get a job by submitting an online application, begin training, and sign up for your benefits ASAP-- and use them. Even if you're only doing it as a means to an end, it's worth it, if it saves your health, or even your life.
Thought three: I don't know how Planned Parenthood works as far as billing/payment go, but if you throw yourself on the mercy of the office, you might be able to put yourself in a payment plan. Call and ask them, stating clearly your concerns-- speak to the doctor, and see what he has to say, what suggestions, if any he might have in this regard. Most doctors, despite being incomprehensible and baffling to the general public, ("it could be cervical cancer-- or nothing at all. Give me $300") are good people who get into their line of work because they want to HELP. I know lots of people who are in RIDICULOUSLY easy payment plans for medical procedures ($20 a month against a few grand, you can swing-- just eat peanut butter sandwiches for lunch a couple times a week, and you're there). It'd be great to think this might work, but just bear it in mind and be honest about your financial circumstances. You don't have to prostrate yourself and grovel-- just ask. The worst thing that happens, you get told "I'm sorry, ma'am" and have to use one of the other options.
Were it me, I'd speak to your father first, but only you know what is best for you in that matter, or what you're willing/capable of doing. Keep your resolve strong, make your choice, and stick with it. You will not fail, I can assure you of that.
Now. Regarding your friends, let me say-- it sucks, being isolated, for whatever reason, whether as the result of something you may have done (right, wrong, or indifferent), or merely because the world moves, shit happens, and life goes on for others. It's a terrible feeling, when you can perceive that unpleasant distance between your friends and yourself. So how do you talk about it? How do you find an outlet? There are a few ideas I would have for you, and I hope one fits you well.
You say that your roommate and a close girlfriend are there for you. Perhaps those friends are ones with whom you might spend more time. Get outside your comfortable social circle and see what the world has to offer. It's easy to lean on familiar shoulders-- but ultimately, you hear the kind of advice you'd expect from people who know you as well as you know them. Sure, your roomie probably is close, and you've met his or her crew, maybe they're right and maybe not. What about asking that girlfriend to take you somewhere new, do something outside of your norms? What about other friends who might have drifted away, not as a result of any direct action you've taken, but rather as a result of the not-quite-parallel lines that human lives lead? Call someone and ask them out for coffee. Invite them to something that takes you both to something new, or takes you somewhere that you can find an opportunity to expand who you are. You are only as alone as you let yourself be. Think laterally, think creatively. If the familiar isn't as friendly, spread out. Do something new. Change the landscape, even if you can't move out of the city. You have the power to do anything you choose-- it just takes two things: one, the choice, and two, the will to pursue. Don't forget it.
Alternatively, if you can't just ask someone to listen to you, you could always deal with your concerns in an artistic fashion. Maybe you write poetry, maybe you write prose; maybe you make ninjas out of pantyhose. Only you know what is going to bleed the pressure out of your pipes, so to speak, but don't let worry or fear impede you from doing whatever you have to do to make yourself feel right again. You're a strong and articulate person-- I don't think you're as trapped as you think you are; it's really just about how you perceive your environment. Maybe you just need to stop looking at the bars of the cage, and start considering how far apart those bars really are-- and where you can slip out, or how you can get a message to the outside, so someone can come and unlock that prison.
I know this has been a rather lengthy response, but to be fair, you started it! I'm kidding. I don't mind EVER offering the best advice I can, and I hope this has helped you. And if you have any further questions for me, as you implied, don't hesitate to ask.
Dr. Sunday is always listening. I wish you and your family well.
Sincerely,
Dr. Sunday
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