Another reading and response...

...but don't worry, this one isn't as political, though it's still kinda long. Instead, here are some reflections and comments about depression.

My sis sent me a link to a blogpost on living with someone suffering from depression and asked me what I thought of it. You can follow the link yourself, but I'll include the post here and then give you what I wrote my sister.

Here's the post...

Several of you have made the request over the years that I share my perspectives on living with someone who has chronic depression. I’ve been reluctant to share for many reasons. The biggest reason I haven’t is that part of living with someone who can spiral downward and inward means that I have to be careful about what I say and do. If the fire is raging, you don’t throw fuel on it or add gunpowder to it. Day to day, I’m probably being overly cautious. During stressful times of the year or during stressful events, those days where I need to be careful are more frequent. It seems like we’ve barely been able to catch our breath until very recently and now it is holiday season. Which, as you are aware, contains no stress at all.

Fixing It by Not Fixing It
As a heterosexual man attracted to a woman, I have a range of emotions and ways of dealing with whatever life throws my way. One of those things is to look at a problem and want to fix it. Men like to be fixers, for the most part, and this is great for things like a clogged drain or dead car battery. Also great if the satellite dish isn’t picking up the latest “Nature is Sad” show on the educational channel because it’s buried in snow. It is not so great if your partner needs for you to help her by listening.

I’m not certain this is entirely gender-related, as I’m certain it is just as likely that a woman can be a fixer as well. It just keeps coming up for me that I can’t fix it and I need to shut up and listen. Almost two years ago, Leah Crawford interviewed me for her site, Leahpeah and asked me how Heather’s illness had affected my life. I wrote then that people in relationships, particularly the man, often have a strong desire to fix things. What I neglected to say then is that one of the best ways to help somebody is to shut up and listen. This is extraordinarily difficult for me as a talker. I’ve really had to stop myself and let it go. I have to tell myself that I need to LISTEN and to tell myself to SHUT UP. It’s doubly important when somebody is anxious or depressed and needs to get it out. I have only met a few men who are great listeners, and those were professionals I was paying to listen.

So. Listen.

Stress Management & Meds
In our case, Heather handles stress very differently than most people I know. She is a master internalizer and the whiff of brooding energy she emits outward is usually an indication that there is a much larger inner storm raging. I’ll usually try to get a calm moment when just the two of us can talk and I’ll have to ask her about five or six times if something is wrong or if she needs to talk. Having lived with her for awhile now, I can say that I can see this coming a few days off. Especially given some of the big things we’ve done in the past two years. Starting a business, selling our house by ourselves, moving, her projects, professional and occupational stress, etc. have all proven to be major stressors. I view my role as to simultaneously get things done and listen when called upon. I don’t regret this role, and I don’t begrudge it. I view every conversation as a chance to learn something new. And a chance for me to tell myself to listen.

As part of intense stress periods, I always have to ask, sometimes repeatedly, about medication levels. The professionals who successfully treated Heather for post-partum depression came up with a drug cocktail that saved Heather’s life. It’s my job to help her stay on those meds and help her assess whether or not they are working like they did in 2004. This will be an ongoing thing for the rest of her life. There are good days around the prescription discussion and not so good days. As with all chronic medication consumption, it is only natural to assume that one feels better and can taper off the meds. There have been several instances where I’ve noticed a higher state of anxiety and a certain tone in conversation, a withdrawal or unusual comment from Heather and felt the need to bring up medication as a state of emergency. Luckily, Heather responds and if she has changed her dosage, after we discuss (sometimes more pointedly than others) she takes it back to the levels that were prescribed. When the meds kick in, it’s like I’m living with the Heather who can cope and get through life. If she’s changed her meds, it’s not pretty. The stress on me during these times builds and builds. I have to be careful in how I release that stress. I also have to make time for me. I have had to learn that most of what is bothering Heather has nothing to do with me or our relationship. It has to do with her internalizing stress and how she deals with life when it gets overwhelming. To be sure, there are those times when I’ve done something wrong or I’m not doing enough or I’m caught up in a project and it causes friction. Just like every other relationship.

Our life is such that we must become adept at crisis management. Home ownership, parenthood and business ownership means that things are going to happen, sometimes all at once. I have to be in a good place to have a clear head to deal with whatever life is going to throw at me. This is not easy. I do a lot of self talk (sometimes freaking Heather out) to either practice conversations I need to have or help me work through a situation. I also have to be strong and assertive most of the time or else I’ll be blown over by the power of the illness.

I have to have a good amount of sleep to face the next day. I get this by taking an antihistamine that helps me sleep and dries out my perpetually runny nose. Side effect: used to be prescribed as a mild anti-depressant. Getting enough sleep makes it so much easier to listen and/or take over if Heather can’t function.

As far as I’m concerned, I’m always open to trying medication if I think I need it. Heather has suggested I try a few things in the past, but I’ve so far not had a steady course of anti-depressants. Typically, getting enough sleep, changing my life (sometimes with talk therapy) and managing my stress have helped me through the hardest of times. If I’m being a jerk, no medication is going to fix that. I have to recognize I’m being a jerk and work on it. I think everybody on the planet goes through jerk phases and being aware is the beginning to living a life that is less difficult on those around us.

Openness Leads to Success
I have to be open. Being raised as I was and given my own propensities, this is extremely difficult for me. I have admired Heather’s openness and willingness to share, but there is always that part of me that worries if there will be a cost later. I can’t decide if I was meant to be a risk management assessor, tin foil proponent or character in either an E.M. Forster or M. Somerset Maugham novel.

Talk therapy has been something that has saved me, saved my relationship with Heather and made our lives together stronger. It is hard work and difficult to hear and learn things about oneself, but I believe that every single person on the planet would benefit from talk therapy. Maybe one doesn’t need it all the time, but I view it as something that I can turn to and use to help navigate through life. I don’t think that because I’m living with Heather, I’ll do more therapy because of her illness. I need it for myself and together, we’ll need it for our relationship. It’s not weak or lame to face ones issues. It’s not strong to live in denial. It’s not strong to live in fear of talking about the dynamics of how we process life events or why we react the way we do. I only wish I had sought therapy after my father died and that in my first marriage, I had sought therapy earlier. I’m not sure that my life would be different, but perhaps better. I’m very happy now, and I love where I am, both professionally and personally. Most importantly, for Leta, I love where we are. She needs happy and healthy parents.

As with any chronic illness, any form of treatment needs to be done carefully and with supervision from professionals. I can’t stress enough how lucky we have been to have had doctors willing to try certain combinations of medicines. We’ve taken it into our own hands in the past and sought different doctors when it was clear that Heather was responding to medicine or a particular doctor has a propensity for a certain diagnosis or treatment that wasn’t helping. The saddest part of treating depression is that most doctors want to ramp up the medicine (for good reason) and it’s very difficult to see a response sometimes. I wish there were a better way to deliver a clinical dosage of meds on an outpatient basis. Most of my experience in this area comes from watching Heather start a medicine for a few weeks and have it either make her worse or have no effect. In order to deliver the dosage and right cocktail, Heather had to be in a hospital/facility where she could be monitored. There was no ramping up. And that is exactly what Heather needed.

One of the biggest and most detrimental side effects to being a partner of someone with a mental illness is that there is the impulse to not share the hard stuff with them for fear they can’t handle it. Likely corollary to that is that the disease is a part of our relationship, meaning it needs its own space. The meds and therapy continue to help, but the disease is always there. I have to be aware of those times where nearly every exchange, every gesture and every non-verbal cue is related to the illness in some way. This adds a burden to any relationship and ours is no different. One of the hardest things to write, is that Heather’s illness means that sometimes she can’t be there for me in a way that I need her to be. I learned this early on, but I still have a hard time making room in our relationship for the largest side effect on me of her illness. It’s not maliciousness on her part. It’s not ignorance. It’s that the disease is all-consuming. I do stand up for myself and I have to be more verbal than I’ve ever been about stating clearly that I need her or I’m having a rough day. Fortunately, those times are fewer as things have smoothed out career-wise and I’ve learned how to tell her that I’m struggling or I need to talk.

In every relationship there is work to be done. There is no such thing as a perfect relationship. There are people who are likely to be better suited for one another, but there is no magic. While this post might sound like it’s not worth it or that Heather and I are having problems, I should clarify that it’s not like that. If I didn’t care about Heather, or wasn’t willing to do the work that a relationship demands, I’d be worse off in my life. Living with Heather is worth it. I’m in love with her and willing. I feel that she shares this feeling about me and that makes all of this so much easier to live with and deal with. In my past, I’ve shied away from doing the hard work in a relationship and in looking back using talk-therapy and a few great therapists, I’ve been able to see that my own laziness and unwillingness to work has harmed myself and others. I’d be a fool if I didn’t take what I’ve learned from therapy and apply it to the best relationship I’ve ever known.

Get Help
To the people out there who denigrate mental health awareness and treatment, I say this: You aren’t helping. You are making it worse. Stop being an arrogant know-it-all. You aren’t right. You are wrong. If someone tells you they need help, your opinion means less than that of professionals. Stop being ignorant. Stop being obstinate. Stop insisting that your loved one, partner, child or co-worker “get over it”. They won’t get over it until you let it go and encourage them to seek help. There are many different approaches and ways to treat mental diseases and conditions. The first step is letting go. You could probably use some time talking it out yourself.

_ _ _ _ _

And now, my comments.

First of all, I can only comment with any real authority about my own battle with depression, and I think this author would agree with me that not all battles are the same, even if they are against the same adversary; that is, depression. With that in mind, Heather's struggle seems to require more vigilance and caution than mine. Perhaps I'm misinterpreting the author's words, but it seems to me that Heather's mental health "stands on the edge of a knife," to quote from Lord of the Rings. What I'm trying to say is that the author paints a gloomier and more ominous picture of his partner's depression than I would paint of mine. I'm not saying this to brag or say that I'm better off than Heather; on the contrary, sometimes I take my 'condition' too lightly, much to my detriment. Also, when things have been clicking along for weeks or even months, a setback can be more traumatic than when it's a regular occurrence.

I agree totally with the author's comments on listening and fixing. As a heterosexual male, I want to fix things, but I know I certainly need to vent every now and again and can remember certain instances when I'd rather not take any advice and become annoyed when others insist on offering it to me.

Then there's the medicine. Oh, that medicine! The author describes conversations with his wife that are very similar to ones I've had with Mom about my antidepressants. Like a quadriplegic hating his wheelchair or a welfare recipient despising her check, I often grow weary and even contemptuous of the very thing that allows me to function normally. I'm sure there's research to bear this out, but it's probably something to do with our zeal for independence. In my own experience, I've learned that I can't think about my dependence on a daily dose of four pills, otherwise I'll go bananas with resentment at how much power one ounce of chemicals holds over my well-being.

As for openness and the need to share: Amen! The best therapy I've ever received came from a man who sat and listened to me talk, only speaking to guide my thoughts so that I could reach my own conclusions, not just his.

I wish I could say more about the effect of depression on relationships, but I haven't really had the opportunity (cue violins playing "Pity Song for Matt"). As far as I can tell, it's advantageous to have close friends/family/significant others to help me plod along and stay in a routine. That's all I can say.

Finally, not enough people realize that depression isn't just a bad attitude; it's a chemical imbalance. I'm so blessed that my family understands that. The main thing to point out to the "just suck it up and get over it" crowd is the quantifiable and documented difference between being lazy and being depressed. It's all about the brain's biochemistry.

Thanks. I'm touched that you asked for my thoughts.
Your bro,
Matt

After a long absence...

...I'm back! I'm sure you're all wondering, "What could have possibly inspired ol' Matt to post this fine day?" An e-mail forward, ladies and gents, that's what. It took me a few days to compose my response, but when I was done, I figured it was something I wanted to share with the rest of the world. So without further ado, I give you, "An E-mail Forward and Response."

Here is the forward:

There's a Newsweek poll that alleges that 67 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed, and 69 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the President. In essence, 2/3's of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change. So being the knuckle dragger I am, I started thinking, ''What are we so unhappy about?

Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week? Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter?

Could it be that 95.4 percent of these unhappy folks have a job?

Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time, and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?

Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state? Or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter? I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough.

Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and provide services to help all, and even send a helicopter to take you to the hospital.

Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home. You may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings.

Or if, while at home watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes, an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss.

This all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs or militias raping and pillaging the residents. Neighborhoods where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers.

How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world? Maybe that is what has 67 percent of you folks unhappy.

Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S , yet has a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have , and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good Lord we live here.

I know, I know. What about the President who took us into war and has no plan to get us out? The President who has a measly 31 percent approval rating? Is this the same President who guided the nation in the dark days after 9/11? The President that cut taxes to bring an economy out of recession? Could this be the same guy who has been called every name in the book for succeeding in keeping all the spoiled ungrateful brats safe from terrorist attacks?

The Commander-In Chief of an all-volunteer army that is out there defending you and me? Did you hear how bad the President is on the news or talk show? Did this news affect you so much, make you so unhappy you couldn't take a look around for yourself and see all the good things and be glad? Think about it...are you upset at the President because he actually caused

you personal pain OR is it because the "Media" told you he was failing to kiss your sorry ungrateful behind every day.

Make no mistake about it. The troops in Iraq and Afghanistan have volunteered to serve, and in many cases may have died for your freedom. There is currently no draft in this country. They didn't have to go. They are able to refuse to go and end up with either a ''general'' discharge, an ''other than honorable'' discharge or, worst case scenario, a ''dishonorable'' discharge after a few days in the brig.

So why then the flat-out discontentment in the minds of 69 percent of Americans? Say what you want, but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds, it leads; and they specialize in bad news. Everybody will watch a car crash with blood and guts. How many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells , and when criticized, try to defend their actions by "justifying" them in one way or another. Just ask why they tried to allow a murderer like O.J. Simpson to write a book about "how he didn't kill his wife, but if he did he would have done it this way"...Insane!

Stop buying the negativism you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage. Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad. We are among the most blessed people on Earth, and should thank God several times a day, or at least be thankful and appreciative.

"With hurricanes, tornados, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"

This concludes the e-mail. Now, here is my response.

Friends,

I will now open my mouth when I probably shouldn't and note that, as a member of the 'unhappy majority', I'm only dissatisfied with the direction the country is heading (as the poll states) and not with our many possessions, freedoms, and services. But that's just semantics.

I love the "freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world," which is why I'm enraged that we have prisoners in Guantanamo held without charge, that the executive branch seeks and Congress allows warrantless wiretapping, and that the writ of habeas corpus is no longer viewed as a fundamental right of all human beings, including "enemy combatants."

As far as the President is concerned, I don't believe he is single-handedly responsible for keeping this country free of terrorist attacks for the last six years. The way I see it, we've had three attacks at home: When the Brits invaded DC in the War of 1812, Pearl Harbor in 1941, and of course 9/11. That comes out to be one attack for every 73 years or so since the end of the Revolutionary War, and frankly, I'd be surprised if we had another 9/11 anytime soon. The amount of resources, time, and distance between us and our enemies makes such an attack hard to pull off (not to mention the thousands of government officials trying to thwart such an attack). But I digress; my point is that I shake my head when the e-mail credits Bush with "keeping all the spoiled ungrateful brats safe from terrorist attacks" as if he were standing on the front porch with a shotgun to ward off marauding bandits.

As a small aside, I'm not upset that Bush doesn't 'kiss my behind.' I'd rather see those lips disband secret prisons and increase health care for children instead of defending the former and vetoing the latter. And I'm grateful for his inspiring words in September and October of 2001; in fact, they still give me goosebumps. But those same words do not exonerate him from transgressions against civil liberties.

The tone of this e-mail concerns me on many points. Firstly, the underlying sentiment seems to be this: "Why are you complaining? We have so many great freedoms/possessions/services that you have no business whining about what's wrong with this country." True, we are a great nation, but as I said concerning the President, previous good deeds do not justify later wrongs.

Another mark against this essay is that it cites the President's status as Commander-in-Chief as a reason to support him. This defense baffles me. Frankly, I don't care how many troops a man commands; all I ask is that he be reluctant to use them, unlike Bush and those under him. Any administration that gives off signals that it wants to take on a third country (Iran) before finishing wars in two others (Afghanistan and Iraq) is irresponsible. Here I will cut myself short before resorting to name-calling, and add only that leaders should be criticized precisely because they are leaders, not supported only since they hold power as the e-mail indicates.

This leads me to further criticism of this e-mail: What's the paragraph about our armed forces supposed to be doing? Yes, our troops are wonderful human beings for volunteering to put themselves in harm's way on my behalf; in fact, my step-brother and his wife are in Korea right now. I just don't see how that addresses any of the concerns I've listed above.

One last thing, and then I promise I'll be done complaining. The last thing Americans need to do is "shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of [the] birdcage." Too many of us don't know what's going on in the world. I doubt the media feed us all that much negativism, and even if they do, shutting our eyes to world events would be an inappropriate response, much like a child putting his hands over his ears and singing, "Lalalalala! I can't hear you!"

In the end, however, I'll admit I'm not grateful nearly as much as I should be. And I'll grant you that the media is sensationalized and profit-driven, but I find it more tolerable than the author of the e-mail. The news media gave me reason to be pleased earlier this year by responding to the public outcry against unwarranted coverage of the likes of Lindsey Lohan, Britney Spears, and Paris Hilton by cutting down on the airtime of the trivial trio.

Thanks for listening, and I hope I haven't angered any of my friends. I'm sure I've gotten something wrong so feel free to correct me. God bless America, and may America be a blessing to the world.

Nostalgia

Wow. That was sudden. After months of keeping my head down and staying focused on the present, this evening a tremendous sense of nostalgia has snuck up and battered my psyche like a bandit.

I was on Facebook, browsing around my friends and acquaintances, when it hit me. Somehow, looking at the names of folks who've graduated since I got here five years ago moved me deeply, reminding me that they're gone. Some are in grad school, some have real jobs, some have spouses and even children. Many of them I'll never see again.

And then, there's October 20 around the corner: The second anniversary of when I spent all day in bed just so I wouldn't kill myself; when I had to leave Wake, check into Holly Hill Hospital under 24-hour supervision for a week, then spend most of the next two months sleeping and crying and wondering what the hell's happened to me.

I still wonder what happened that day. What if I hadn't gotten depressed seven months earlier and graduated with my friends as the class of 2006? What if I'd done my Latin homework the night before, or made it to President Hatch's Inauguration Ceremony like I was supposed to? What if my thyroid had continued functioning normally? Would that have ultimately changed anything? Or would I still be sitting here, remembering the past and wishing I could go back to the days of Alpha Suite and Beta Suite, of "Pit or Not Pit," of Halo, Cookout, and the Quote Board? Maybe I'd have found that purpose I seem to lack, or maybe I'd still be searching for meaning in this crazy life.

And yet, things are okay, somehow. I'm making new friends, attending lectures on such stimulating topics as immigration and the shape of the universe, and getting decent (or better) grades in class.

I just miss having a close-knit group of friends. And a solid faith in God. Oh well - can't have everything, right?

Until next time (and hopefully it'll be a cheerier post), valete.

Hecticity Squared

My title is referring to my sister's latest post. Unfortunately, I'm afraid my running around isn't nearly as fun as Jen's; more like just running to keep from being swallowed. Since classes started, I've had one solo project and one group project, caught a nasty cold, applied for Wake in Washington (the internship available to ten students next semester), started contra dancing and made a ton of new friends. At work I've handled a few ball pythons, chased down skinks, geckos and tree frogs, had a hamster lick my nose, and befriended a young macaw (yours for only $550), not to mention my coworkers.

But that's just the run of the mill. There are simply too many things to do! Clean the house, and the clutter of dirty dishes, laundry and mail seems to reappear within minutes. Try to attend one cultural event (like a classical guitarist or Van Cliburn), and five more come along that are out of my reach due to time constraints. My finances are recovering from the summer's expenditures; I want desperately to keep up with politics at all levels from the university up; my room is in permanent disarray. Oh, and let's not forget the 31-year old who asked me out even though she is the mother of an eighth-grader! I hate shooting people down.

What weighs heavy on my mind now, though, dwarfs all these things. For years I've carefully managed this issue, and every time it's come up I've come away just fine. But not this time.

I'm just not sure any more if God is there.

I've been plagued with serious doubt for the last month, and I don't know exactly why. Reading Christopher Hitchens' God Is Not Great hasn't been helping me either. For once in my life, I just don't know if the God I grew up with really exists. I guess I'm just uncertain whether God made the world or not, and that's always been my basis for belief.

I need to hit the sack, but I needed to get that off my chest. Take care, everyone.

Ack!

I haven't forgotten about this thing... honest! It's just that I'm so busy! And now that I have a little time, I'm sick. Oh, and behind on homework (boooooo). So how 'bout I post on, um, well let's see... tomorrow I don't have work but I need to fill out an application to study in DC because tomorrow's the deadline... then Wednesday I need to catch up on Music History... Thursday I work, same deal Friday and Saturday, so how 'bout Sunday? Oh crap, I have a listening quiz Sunday that I need to study for............ ACK!

See what I mean?

I guess I'll try to post on Wednesday or Thursday. A lot has happened in this last month, and my brain keeps on churning out ideas like it needs to or something, so I really wanna untangle all my thoughts via this blog soon.

See you all then (whenever that turns out to be)!

...And Now for Something Completely Different!

Fourteen hours and nine minutes from start to finish.
Seven hundred forty-eight miles.
One hundred ninety-nine dollars and forty cents.
Fifty-three ounces of water.
Twenty-two ounces of Vault.
Three CDs.
Three cookies.
Two sticks of gum.

Proving I can still do crazy road trips: priceless.

Wow, that was pretty fun! What does it all mean, you ask? Friends, these are the numbers from my trip to IKEA in Woodbridge, VA, to purchase a loft for my, ahem, cozy room. To illustrate, my trash can is still sitting atop my bookcase because there's nowhere else to put it. Now I can finally settle in and add a few personal touches like my Thinker poster and chalkboard.

The trip itself went pretty smoothly, considering I wasn't sure I'd even take it until I woke up completely unprompted at 8am. When I saw the time, I said to myself, "I guess today's the day," and off I went! I enjoyed myself so thoroughly that when I walked in the great fortress that is IKEA, I had to keep myself from grinning like an idiot. I tell ya (and it's weird for me to say this), sometimes there's nothing like a good ol' spontaneous adventure. My aunt Kate would be proud... in fact, I should call her! This daytrip was particularly special in that I'd never been to IKEA, plus I ended up driving US 29 and Interstate 64 on the way home and was delighted to see the Blue Ridge panorama draped with fog... if only I'd had a camera! Oh, and I almost forgot: I nearly had to leave the loft in Woodbridge because it was an amazingly tight fit in my Camry. I knew it was a risk going in, but thankfully all those trips with Mom, Jennie and Granddaddy paid off with the combined experience of packing/cramming/come-on-just-a-little-bit-more-there-we-go.

That's all for now - just wanted to share my lovely excursion with you. Hope to write soon!

Late night thought

As a preface: Clayton's friend Sam has been visiting from Florida for the last few days, and tonight he said, "Yeah, tomorrow I'm gonna go back to my real life."

That got me thinking: Why do we call our mundane lives 'real'? I've used that expression several times myself - "Well, back to reality" when I'm talking about leaving something fun; usually to do schoolwork or chores or something. I guess we dream of being free from our responsibilities and create a fantasy world of Pleasure where we get to do what we want 24/7. However, few, if any, of us actually live in that world, leaving 'normal' people to work until we can visit Pleasure on the weekend. Kinda puts a new spin on 'living the dream,' doesn't it?

Well, back to reality... which right now means it's time for bed! Oh, and I'll probably post later this week as a follow-up to my first post, so check back soon!

Overflow

My mind is racing at a million miles an hour... where to begin... perhaps I'll just copy from my journal and then continue on from there. Please hang on through this series of examples and vignettes...

I just got back from The Simpsons, and of all things, it got me thinking how immersed we are in our entertainment. In the film, the first big joke is on the audience itself: Homer launches on a tirade against the silliness of paying to see a movie about a show that we could easily watch for much less on television. We all laugh at our absurdity, but nobody left the theater and wanted a refund, which would have been a logical response.
A few minutes later, Green Day performs a concert and then tries to talk about the environment, only to have the crowd erupt with vigorous booing. As their stage sinks into the acidic lake, my friends and I laugh again, but how many of us will proactively protect the environment?
The same question applies to the witty shows of Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, because we all laugh at how screwed up our country is, but how many of us viewers act on our beliefs? Sure, there's voting... I guess that just seems inadequate.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, brings us to the present, when I feel compelled to do Something with what I think, but I don't know what. Whom do I tell? Where do I go? In light of this yearning for a more productive intellect, I'm starting this new blog, which will be more political than my old one. I fear it may consist of little more than this post... but I sincerely hope this is the beginning of Something New.

Until next time, valete.