In many ways, the current era is one of progressive change. A black man is in the White House, a Latina woman has a position on our Supreme Court, and, in spite of some major setbacks in the marriage arena, sexual acceptance is also more widespread. While it would be too short-sighted to point to these achievements as then end of racism or inequality, there is certainly plenty of reasons to be optimistic. Sadly this growing sense of empowerment does not extend to all members of society, there undoubtedly remain, in this country and worldwide, a number of forgotten minorities. Among them is the broadly defined "disabled" community.
Given this broad definition, I can only speak for a specific sub-set of which I am a member. In my case I speak of the plight of those with permanent visible physical disabilities centered primarily around mobility difficulties. I was born with Cerebral Palsy and since the age of 4 have relied on the use of wheelchair. For about the last decade I have relied in a motorized wheelchair specifically.My life has not been all bad of course, I am blessed with a very supportive family and close friends, I live on my own, and am Ivy League educated and currently am pursuing a Masters Degree. In spite of these blessings however, I am everyday faced with the physical and emotional mountain of coping with a city and world at large that remains largely unprepared for and generally uninterested in challenges of the disabled.
These challenges begin at home so to speak. By this I mean with the wheelchairs themselves. First, they are expensive; the model I use for example costs around $14,000. Yes, insurance does exist, but as with most things, they cover very little. If it was up to insurance, they would seem to view a kitchen chair with bicycle wheels as sufficient for a "normal life (while I'm on the subject of insurance, they also will not pay for long term physical therapy under the logic that I am not going to get any better. ute, huh?) . The shocker here is that a kitchen chair with bicycle wheels doesn't really do the trick and so, if you do desire that elusive normal life you have to come up with 14K all by yourself (or with your family's help if you are lucky). The good news here is: once you shell out the dough for the chair you get a piece of equipment that works like a charm......for about 2-3 months.
In the about 3 years or so that I have had my current wheelchair, I have averaged a major problem 3 to 4 times a year by conservative estimate. These problems have included such things as, the controller falling off, foot rests cracking, batteries burning out, a wheel falling off (yes, I said wheel), and a host of additional electrical problems. These issues can range from minor annoyances to things that have left me immobile on sidewalks several miles from my apartment (a grateful nod should be paid here to the NYPD, who while they have been perplexed by the situation, have helped me home more than once, which is no small feat considering the chair weighs about 500 pounds all told).
Once you've broken down and are lucky enough to make it to a safe place, there remains the problem of fixing the chair. While the wheelchair mechanics that do exist are dedicated and hardworking, there are just too few of them and they have no emergency and/or 24 hour capability. To the best of my knowledge there 3 companies that have the ability to service my equipment and they are located in Flushing Queens, Fort Totten Queens, and Ronkonkoma Long Island respectively. Of the one company that I have used that does home pick-up, they only have the resources to do so once a week. While my chair is being fixed I have no choice but to survive in back-up or loaner chairs, that while they allow for basic mobility and quality of life, the major sacrifices in independence are both physically and emotionally draining. Naturally, none of this happens for free and over the years I think it is reasonable to say I have paid for my wheelchair at least twice. My most recent still on-going electrical problem has required three trips to the manufacturer and thousands of dollars. If any other type of company had a comparable lack of success rate there would be safeguards and calls for over sight (think Lemming laws). When it comes to wheelchairs, you are the mercy of a deeply flawed system.
If, on a good day, I have the good fortune of being able to leave my home, I dive head first into the NYC transit system. Of the major methods of transport available in said city, only the bus system is fully accessible. The subway has some stations that are accessible but they are few and far between and (from what I hear) the elevators providing this access are rarely serviced. In my 6 years of living in the city, I have used the subway one time during which my chair got stuck between the gap and I had to rely on my friends and a Good Samaritan or two to pull me onto the train. While I have faith that many a good Samaritans still exist, feeling as though you may be forced to rely on them is of little comfort.
About now you may be thinking "what about those neat little taxi's with the ramps I have seen around," Once again they exist, but largely cease to be practical for many reasons. For one, they are impossible to hail from the street because you cannot tell whether they are accessible until they are right on top of you. Secondly if you do hail them you may be told, as I have on one occasion, by the driver that he "can't take a wheelchair," as I stare at the handicapped logo on the side door. While I relieved some stress in this situation by utilizing my middle finger and a few four letter words, the fact remained I still lacked a ride uptown.
The TLC claims to have a number that you can call and reserve an accessible taxi ahead of time; however, this system has only worked a small percentage of the time I have used it. Amazingly, (as I was told by a cab driver, who both claimed to be high up in the union and a supporter of accessible taxis), these requests are sent out over a blackberry system that not all drivers in the accessible cabs have access to, and these drivers reserve the right to refuse these jobs up to twice a shift and the refusal of more than two results in a type of sanction ticket which is little more than symbolic. In the end you can request a cab but it’s a crap shoot as to whether one shows up. As recently as last night, I waited for a cab that never came, and thus was unable to attend a belated birthday party for my sister.
Essentially if I want to get somewhere, I am left with using my wheelchair or taking the bus. All NYC buses are equipped with ramps or lifts but also remain limited. Buses have the capacity to transport two wheelchairs at a time so if a couple old ladies beat me to it, I am left with no choice but to wait for the next bus, which depending on traffic can take between 15-40 minutes. The traffic issue (which I know is unavoidable) makes it so that any trip to an outer borough takes so long it is not practical. Lastly, not all buses run all night and so if I desire to have a social life that extends beyond midnight (which I think is a fair request with me being a 25 year old single male) you either stay local or take your chances. Oh and if it snows, forget it.
What is contained above is not intended to be an exercise in woe or even necessarily as representative of the problems of all disabled folks, instead it is merely designed to be a glimpse into the problems that face the disabled such as myself. These scenarios described in my "glimpse" have caused me not only to miss out on things like social functions, but also things like work, school, and job interviews. Reality also remains such that the problems are even deeper than described here. The Americans with Disabilities Act remains known more for its loop holes than benefits thus leaving me with countless buildings I am unable to enter or, once inside, left without a bathroom facility. The point of setting this piece against the backdrop of the strides represented by Obama and Sotamayor is that if such inequalities described here were the result of something like religion or race, outcry would be fierce as opposed to largely non-existent. In the end, I am left to speculate that this lack of outrage is the primary difference between a building that lacks a wheelchair ramps and one that has "Whites Only" scrawled on ts front door.Some of you who were unaware of these problems may be tempted to offer some sort of apology for not having been aware, and the truth is I need not your apologies, but instead, I implore your future vigilance and support. Remember these issues and don't allow them to continue. I ask you to forward these words to all friends and families or places of influence such as politicians and newspapers.
I cannot crusade alone so help me stand for those who can't........
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Cell
It's 5:20 am. I wish I could tell you that I have gotten up early with an eager enthusiasm to face the day and it's challenges, but the truth is, I have yet to sleep . Given that I am a chronic night owl, I have only been trying to sleep for a short time but this has the feeling like that rest is not coming anytime soon, the kind of night where even sleeping pills are a lost cause.
Alone I sit at this desk waiting for the dawn to mock me as she does every morning to those who have spent the night teased by the bitch-goddess of sleep. The noise in my head is at full pitch and I am unable to do anything but listen. I write now for reasons I am unsure of although I think, in the end if I am going to go insane, I'd rather do so on the page than while staring at the ceiling. Or, to put it more bleakly, it seems better to spill forth a bleeding heart then to contemplate the thought of a bloody wrist.
The cliche of the moment seems to be that I can't get out of my own way, or specifically out of my own head. I can think only of the devices of this mental torture chamber that continually ravage my mind and soul. Fear, doubt, depression, and low self-esteem are my tormentors. I am 25 years old, currently flat broke and unemployed, am I working towards an advanced degree which feels as though it will not pay dividends anytime soon, and gripped by a cycle of seemingly endless romantic and sexual frustrations. My only ally is logic which tells me both that my problems are common and/or that can be alleviated through patience or pro activity. All decent arguments, but the voice of logic tends to fade as the hope for sleep does.
I have a body that doesn't work or at the very least doesn't cooperate with me thus meaning that I have only my self poisoning mind to rely on. My old friend logic tries again to tell me that am I and always will be a survivor but the head demons drown it out with a drum beat on my brain that serves only as a reminder of just how exhausting it can be to have to metaphorically (or even literally at times) to go through the back door or take the long road. The dull body aches from lack of movement made worse by the psycho-somatic contributions of depression. All this could be cured by sleep....a sleep which doesn't come at all or just shallow enough to hint at pleasant dreams.
Instead most days I remain all too awake, a legally sanctioned junkie, slave to the "fixes" of pale orange bottles named "zoloft" or "ambien" or "xanax", again like a junkie getting no high but only maintaining to say alive in a sense, a dull status quo that at times seems at the brink of madness. Wanting to scream and claw at my brain but lacking the energy even for that. A state of uncertainty where I am paralyzed in body and soul begets a desire to look for God at the bottom of a bottle or in the form of disciples that come filling needles. Luckily or not, that logic again mostly keeps me from such pilgrimages and I instead dance around the golden calves of modernity taking the forms of bad food or bad TV or novels that canonize the tortured soul as my only patron saint. Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel comes only from the glow of a cigarette, a poison glow that can kill me even before the weight of the world does.
So what now? Do I give in to the deafening noise shrieking from the dark corners of my mind and die a living Death? Do I strain against the din and listen for whispers of hope? Do I fall to my knees and pray to God for deliverance?
Who knows....
For now,
I will settle for sleep
Alone I sit at this desk waiting for the dawn to mock me as she does every morning to those who have spent the night teased by the bitch-goddess of sleep. The noise in my head is at full pitch and I am unable to do anything but listen. I write now for reasons I am unsure of although I think, in the end if I am going to go insane, I'd rather do so on the page than while staring at the ceiling. Or, to put it more bleakly, it seems better to spill forth a bleeding heart then to contemplate the thought of a bloody wrist.
The cliche of the moment seems to be that I can't get out of my own way, or specifically out of my own head. I can think only of the devices of this mental torture chamber that continually ravage my mind and soul. Fear, doubt, depression, and low self-esteem are my tormentors. I am 25 years old, currently flat broke and unemployed, am I working towards an advanced degree which feels as though it will not pay dividends anytime soon, and gripped by a cycle of seemingly endless romantic and sexual frustrations. My only ally is logic which tells me both that my problems are common and/or that can be alleviated through patience or pro activity. All decent arguments, but the voice of logic tends to fade as the hope for sleep does.
I have a body that doesn't work or at the very least doesn't cooperate with me thus meaning that I have only my self poisoning mind to rely on. My old friend logic tries again to tell me that am I and always will be a survivor but the head demons drown it out with a drum beat on my brain that serves only as a reminder of just how exhausting it can be to have to metaphorically (or even literally at times) to go through the back door or take the long road. The dull body aches from lack of movement made worse by the psycho-somatic contributions of depression. All this could be cured by sleep....a sleep which doesn't come at all or just shallow enough to hint at pleasant dreams.
Instead most days I remain all too awake, a legally sanctioned junkie, slave to the "fixes" of pale orange bottles named "zoloft" or "ambien" or "xanax", again like a junkie getting no high but only maintaining to say alive in a sense, a dull status quo that at times seems at the brink of madness. Wanting to scream and claw at my brain but lacking the energy even for that. A state of uncertainty where I am paralyzed in body and soul begets a desire to look for God at the bottom of a bottle or in the form of disciples that come filling needles. Luckily or not, that logic again mostly keeps me from such pilgrimages and I instead dance around the golden calves of modernity taking the forms of bad food or bad TV or novels that canonize the tortured soul as my only patron saint. Sometimes the light at the end of the tunnel comes only from the glow of a cigarette, a poison glow that can kill me even before the weight of the world does.
So what now? Do I give in to the deafening noise shrieking from the dark corners of my mind and die a living Death? Do I strain against the din and listen for whispers of hope? Do I fall to my knees and pray to God for deliverance?
Who knows....
For now,
I will settle for sleep
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Ordinary courage
I've always felt it a little cliche to write directly around the 9/11 anniversary (and probably why I waited three weeks), but I, like most others, have many concepts and ideas brought to mind around this time of year. An obvious example of this is the concept of courage. In 9/11 recaps and commemorations all over the world, stories of extraordinary courage are re-told with reverence. People remain awed by the stories of firefighters, police, and EMS running into instead of away from the doomed towers, building workers assisting injured or disabled colleagues both in NY and in the Pentagon, a handful of people attempting to regain control of their hijacked plane, and lastly (heartbreaking as it may be) those who leaped to their deaths to avoid an inferno. Of course these stories should be told and their protagonists honored, but the human tendency to focus on "extraordinary courage" sometimes obscures what in some ways may be an even more valuable concept, "ordinary courage"
"Ordinary courage", as I define it here refers to the courage it takes to live one's day to day life, regardless of what it looks like. This is not meant to imply that life is or should be miserable but rather, on the contrary, that it merely takes a lot of courage to see the beauty in it. Only you know what your ordinary courage is required to cope with but most of us probably have some experience with things like physical or mental illness, addiction, broken homes, and financial struggle etc. Sometimes to get out of bed in the wake of these types of issues, can seem like an epic battle, and it may very well be. My point is to say that whatever your epic battle is, the only important thing is that you keep fighting in hopes of some day winning that battle.
To some, everything I just wrote may seem like common sense, but from my observances in my two and half decades on this on earth it seems that many people do not give themselves enough credit for their ordinary courage. I believe this comes not from modesty (which is largely a good thing) but as a negative side effect of the human tendency to create what I'll call "a hierarchy of pain" This basically is the idea to attempt motivate oneself by adopting the notion that "someone out there is worse off then I" While this phrase has it's point and may work for some, too often I believe the supposed motivation from this attitude is instead a masquerade that people use to downplay their own struggles and/or make themselves believe they should/need to apologize for their own difficulties. Sure, they are people in this world "worse off than you" (what does that really even mean if you think about it) but in the end they are not you and you are not them, so the whole idea of comparison is useless and unproductive.
As usual the best way I can think of to further illustrate my ideas, is to explain how I have experienced this personally. Often when people become aware of all or part of my life story, they will attempt to compliment my achievements by saying something to the effect of "you are so much stronger than I" or "I could not have gotten through that," Of course I know the attempted meaning behind these sentiments but, on another level I see it as a means for people to downgrade themselves and their struggles yet again. My life is my life, and only I have to learn to survive that life. It's your job to survive your own life, not someone else's. To put it more crudely, just because your pile of shit looks different from mine doesn't mean it is not also a pile of shit.
While wallowing in misery is never a good suggestion, when you do feel overwhelmed by your everyday struggles, make sure to acknowledge as them legitimate and difficult problems rather than dismiss them as "not good enough" or "something that isn't so bad". This will allow you to feel a sense of a greater accomplishment when you do get out of bed, or whatever form your achievement through ordinary courage takes. I truly believe that therein lies the ability to give your life and your inner self value on a daily basis. If I may border on cliche once again, you can have no real value to anyone else if you don't first value yourself.
I started this post by calling to mind the "extraordinary courage" exhibited by countless people on 9/11 and I bring it up again as I close to make one final point. Instances of "extraordinary courage" are those that with them bring the strongest urge to unleash phrases like "I could never be that brave," The truth is..... you don't know that. The potential for these "extraordinary courage's" probably lies within all of us. Most importantly, we must remember that, in all likelihood, those who exhibit extraordinary courage in extraordinary circumstances could only do so because they embraced the ordinary courage it took to live every previous day of their lives.
God Bless
"Ordinary courage", as I define it here refers to the courage it takes to live one's day to day life, regardless of what it looks like. This is not meant to imply that life is or should be miserable but rather, on the contrary, that it merely takes a lot of courage to see the beauty in it. Only you know what your ordinary courage is required to cope with but most of us probably have some experience with things like physical or mental illness, addiction, broken homes, and financial struggle etc. Sometimes to get out of bed in the wake of these types of issues, can seem like an epic battle, and it may very well be. My point is to say that whatever your epic battle is, the only important thing is that you keep fighting in hopes of some day winning that battle.
To some, everything I just wrote may seem like common sense, but from my observances in my two and half decades on this on earth it seems that many people do not give themselves enough credit for their ordinary courage. I believe this comes not from modesty (which is largely a good thing) but as a negative side effect of the human tendency to create what I'll call "a hierarchy of pain" This basically is the idea to attempt motivate oneself by adopting the notion that "someone out there is worse off then I" While this phrase has it's point and may work for some, too often I believe the supposed motivation from this attitude is instead a masquerade that people use to downplay their own struggles and/or make themselves believe they should/need to apologize for their own difficulties. Sure, they are people in this world "worse off than you" (what does that really even mean if you think about it) but in the end they are not you and you are not them, so the whole idea of comparison is useless and unproductive.
As usual the best way I can think of to further illustrate my ideas, is to explain how I have experienced this personally. Often when people become aware of all or part of my life story, they will attempt to compliment my achievements by saying something to the effect of "you are so much stronger than I" or "I could not have gotten through that," Of course I know the attempted meaning behind these sentiments but, on another level I see it as a means for people to downgrade themselves and their struggles yet again. My life is my life, and only I have to learn to survive that life. It's your job to survive your own life, not someone else's. To put it more crudely, just because your pile of shit looks different from mine doesn't mean it is not also a pile of shit.
While wallowing in misery is never a good suggestion, when you do feel overwhelmed by your everyday struggles, make sure to acknowledge as them legitimate and difficult problems rather than dismiss them as "not good enough" or "something that isn't so bad". This will allow you to feel a sense of a greater accomplishment when you do get out of bed, or whatever form your achievement through ordinary courage takes. I truly believe that therein lies the ability to give your life and your inner self value on a daily basis. If I may border on cliche once again, you can have no real value to anyone else if you don't first value yourself.
I started this post by calling to mind the "extraordinary courage" exhibited by countless people on 9/11 and I bring it up again as I close to make one final point. Instances of "extraordinary courage" are those that with them bring the strongest urge to unleash phrases like "I could never be that brave," The truth is..... you don't know that. The potential for these "extraordinary courage's" probably lies within all of us. Most importantly, we must remember that, in all likelihood, those who exhibit extraordinary courage in extraordinary circumstances could only do so because they embraced the ordinary courage it took to live every previous day of their lives.
God Bless
Monday, August 3, 2009
Fear and Loathing...and online dating
Lets face it, everybody wants to be loved. True, I do have one close friend who blissfully lives his life devoid of most meaningful human contact, and while at times I think he may actually be some kind of perverted genius, I think we can all agree, he's not normal. Normal in this case, is wanting to be loved romantically.
Platonic friends are fine but the truth is you can reach a point where you begin to think that Plato and his theories on love and friendship are the work of an asshole who likes to fuck with people's minds and bodies.
In the end all of us on some level desire someone we can feel close to and, as an added bonus, have sex with from time to time. The problem lies in finding the proper setting for human contact to accomplish this goal. If you are anything like me: perpetually searching but in the process get shot down shot down more often than a blind fighter pilot, you probably have tried any number of different things. In my case, the latest adventure in finding a way to flip Plato off is the purgatory of online dating.
First off, I know what some of you are thinking, " I know someone who found someone online" or "What about all the happy people on the TV ads" Well those bastards have got to be actors because nobody that is goddamn happy. I grant you however that it probably works for some, in fact I know at least one couple that met online headed for marriage, but for the rest of us it either becomes an exercise in frustration or a way to figure out just how good or bad of a liar you are.
A couple months back a filled out a profile on an online dating website for the third time (because it has to be the website, not me right?, RIGHT?). Now you may be saying "wow good for you, way to be proactive and take advantage of technology,", save your applause folks, cause this shit is the final frontier, the wild west of dating.
For one, it's expensive, you have to pay like 40 bones a month just so some computer algorithm can "attempt" to find a match for you. Shit that's money up front even before you have to put in the effort of the dates themselves. Not only does that reak of extortion but If I were to take the bus down to 42nd Street and look for a similar arrangement, rather than looking for a website, I'd be looking for a pimp. Whats worse is on sites like the one I am currently affiliated with (which by the way will remain nameless to both increase the intrigue and to keep me from getting sued), the prospect of clicking that big red happy "Look for New Matches" button is no guarantee. Sometimes you'll get a lovely message saying politely something like "the matching process is complicated and requires patience, we are unable to provide new matches for you at this time, please check back tomorrow or when you become a more interesting person," OK so it doesn't say that last part, but if the implied message there doesn't leave you looking for a warm bath and a razor blade I don't know what will.
The problem I think lies in the difficulty of creating the profile itself. In my experience, no matter how creative you try to be, you only present as one of two things: Boring or insane. Allow me to illustrate. If you are still reading this and perhaps have even chuckled a few times you understand that a lot of my humor lies in sarcasm and mock outrage. The problem is those don't always translate properly in written words. If that is the case, I am saddled with the boring vs. insane dilemma.
Take for example the question "What 3 things are on your nightstand?" The truth (and what I wrote): A lamp, remote, a Bible, honest but boring. If I was going for a humorous answer I might try something like: A can of whipped cream, a framed photo of Ronald Reagan, and a Bible. Even if you do see the humor in such an answer, there will still be that lingering creepy feeling. Sometimes the problem is that the truth is stranger than fiction. Again for example lets use the question "Describe a book you recently enjoyed," My answer: blank. Those of you who know me a bit are probably wondering why I'd leave that blank given that I read all the time. The reason is that, given my interests in terrorism and forensic psychology, the truth would sound something like," I recently enjoyed selections from Kraft-Ebbing's landmark work "Psychopathia Sexualis" which rounded out my understanding of the concepts put forth in Schlesinger's work entitled "Sexual Murder" Yeah that's date material, you'd prob instead be concerned I would use your skin to make a shade for that lamp on my nightstand (next to the Bible don't forget). The truth is people in wheelchairs make terrible rapists or murders but it would be tough to include that qualifier, after all I wouldn't want people to judge my disability.
The difficulty with creating a profile runs even simpler than that, in fact it starts with putting a picture on your profile. Now of course they say you don't have to include a picture but the fact is, even if you're not overly concerned with vanity, your probably not going to show much interest in a profile sans photo. Once again if you are like me and lack a camera with which to regularly take photos, you are left with having to select something from a facebook profile or the like. Now I know I'm not unique when a say that in the vast majority of my facebook photos I am 1) under the strong influence of alcohol (most often in form of Jagermeister) or 2) striking some goofball pose that was funny in context or just for the hell of it. Once again your options are limited to either cropping the shit out of something (through which it is often easy to expose an attempt to hide insanity) or taking a photo for the purpose of a profile picture (which is again just boring)
The final hurdle in this gauntlet of compatibility are those pesky lifestyle questions. By this I mean questions involving your smoking or drinking habits. This is a clear lose-lose section of the profile especially because there are no ways to qualify the "truth" If asked if I smoke I would answer "when I drink, if I'm really stressed out or depressed, when I'm really happy or excited, if it's a nice day outside, or if it's Tuesday" Given my options on the survey that becomes "every once and a while," The drinking bit is even harder, in this particular survey your options (with my translations following) are "not at all" (you're boring or a liar), "every once and a while" (admitting you have a problem is the first step) or "several times a week," (rehab is for quitters), I'd say that leaves a helluva of gray area no? I was left with no choice but to choose "several times a week" and truthfully this makes me uncomfortable not because it's not true but because I don't like revealing my potential for substance abuse so early in the relationship process. I would have much preferred the option to state something to the effect of "I'm Irish and German, honey, draw your own conclusions".
Seeing as it is often my MO to suggest improvement to things rather than to merely rant about them, I will close with a brief discussion of a few categories I believe should be mandatory on these online dating surveys. I suggest adding categories that encompass "Major Psychological Diagnosis", "Other Substance Use" and "Criminal History," Naturally this would clear up a good deal of muddy water. If a person says they do not drink at all but use heroin recreationally, that becomes a valuable piece of information. If someone reports themselves as being schizophrenic then you will be less confused if they begin to talk to themselves. Lastly if someone has a repeated history of drunk and disorderly conduct you know you will be in for a fun night.
Some may say the inclusion of such information would encompass an undue intrusion into personal privacy or civil liberties, but the truth is, this is dating and this is America and if we don't put ourselves out there: the terrorists will have won
Platonic friends are fine but the truth is you can reach a point where you begin to think that Plato and his theories on love and friendship are the work of an asshole who likes to fuck with people's minds and bodies.
In the end all of us on some level desire someone we can feel close to and, as an added bonus, have sex with from time to time. The problem lies in finding the proper setting for human contact to accomplish this goal. If you are anything like me: perpetually searching but in the process get shot down shot down more often than a blind fighter pilot, you probably have tried any number of different things. In my case, the latest adventure in finding a way to flip Plato off is the purgatory of online dating.
First off, I know what some of you are thinking, " I know someone who found someone online" or "What about all the happy people on the TV ads" Well those bastards have got to be actors because nobody that is goddamn happy. I grant you however that it probably works for some, in fact I know at least one couple that met online headed for marriage, but for the rest of us it either becomes an exercise in frustration or a way to figure out just how good or bad of a liar you are.
A couple months back a filled out a profile on an online dating website for the third time (because it has to be the website, not me right?, RIGHT?). Now you may be saying "wow good for you, way to be proactive and take advantage of technology,", save your applause folks, cause this shit is the final frontier, the wild west of dating.
For one, it's expensive, you have to pay like 40 bones a month just so some computer algorithm can "attempt" to find a match for you. Shit that's money up front even before you have to put in the effort of the dates themselves. Not only does that reak of extortion but If I were to take the bus down to 42nd Street and look for a similar arrangement, rather than looking for a website, I'd be looking for a pimp. Whats worse is on sites like the one I am currently affiliated with (which by the way will remain nameless to both increase the intrigue and to keep me from getting sued), the prospect of clicking that big red happy "Look for New Matches" button is no guarantee. Sometimes you'll get a lovely message saying politely something like "the matching process is complicated and requires patience, we are unable to provide new matches for you at this time, please check back tomorrow or when you become a more interesting person," OK so it doesn't say that last part, but if the implied message there doesn't leave you looking for a warm bath and a razor blade I don't know what will.
The problem I think lies in the difficulty of creating the profile itself. In my experience, no matter how creative you try to be, you only present as one of two things: Boring or insane. Allow me to illustrate. If you are still reading this and perhaps have even chuckled a few times you understand that a lot of my humor lies in sarcasm and mock outrage. The problem is those don't always translate properly in written words. If that is the case, I am saddled with the boring vs. insane dilemma.
Take for example the question "What 3 things are on your nightstand?" The truth (and what I wrote): A lamp, remote, a Bible, honest but boring. If I was going for a humorous answer I might try something like: A can of whipped cream, a framed photo of Ronald Reagan, and a Bible. Even if you do see the humor in such an answer, there will still be that lingering creepy feeling. Sometimes the problem is that the truth is stranger than fiction. Again for example lets use the question "Describe a book you recently enjoyed," My answer: blank. Those of you who know me a bit are probably wondering why I'd leave that blank given that I read all the time. The reason is that, given my interests in terrorism and forensic psychology, the truth would sound something like," I recently enjoyed selections from Kraft-Ebbing's landmark work "Psychopathia Sexualis" which rounded out my understanding of the concepts put forth in Schlesinger's work entitled "Sexual Murder" Yeah that's date material, you'd prob instead be concerned I would use your skin to make a shade for that lamp on my nightstand (next to the Bible don't forget). The truth is people in wheelchairs make terrible rapists or murders but it would be tough to include that qualifier, after all I wouldn't want people to judge my disability.
The difficulty with creating a profile runs even simpler than that, in fact it starts with putting a picture on your profile. Now of course they say you don't have to include a picture but the fact is, even if you're not overly concerned with vanity, your probably not going to show much interest in a profile sans photo. Once again if you are like me and lack a camera with which to regularly take photos, you are left with having to select something from a facebook profile or the like. Now I know I'm not unique when a say that in the vast majority of my facebook photos I am 1) under the strong influence of alcohol (most often in form of Jagermeister) or 2) striking some goofball pose that was funny in context or just for the hell of it. Once again your options are limited to either cropping the shit out of something (through which it is often easy to expose an attempt to hide insanity) or taking a photo for the purpose of a profile picture (which is again just boring)
The final hurdle in this gauntlet of compatibility are those pesky lifestyle questions. By this I mean questions involving your smoking or drinking habits. This is a clear lose-lose section of the profile especially because there are no ways to qualify the "truth" If asked if I smoke I would answer "when I drink, if I'm really stressed out or depressed, when I'm really happy or excited, if it's a nice day outside, or if it's Tuesday" Given my options on the survey that becomes "every once and a while," The drinking bit is even harder, in this particular survey your options (with my translations following) are "not at all" (you're boring or a liar), "every once and a while" (admitting you have a problem is the first step) or "several times a week," (rehab is for quitters), I'd say that leaves a helluva of gray area no? I was left with no choice but to choose "several times a week" and truthfully this makes me uncomfortable not because it's not true but because I don't like revealing my potential for substance abuse so early in the relationship process. I would have much preferred the option to state something to the effect of "I'm Irish and German, honey, draw your own conclusions".
Seeing as it is often my MO to suggest improvement to things rather than to merely rant about them, I will close with a brief discussion of a few categories I believe should be mandatory on these online dating surveys. I suggest adding categories that encompass "Major Psychological Diagnosis", "Other Substance Use" and "Criminal History," Naturally this would clear up a good deal of muddy water. If a person says they do not drink at all but use heroin recreationally, that becomes a valuable piece of information. If someone reports themselves as being schizophrenic then you will be less confused if they begin to talk to themselves. Lastly if someone has a repeated history of drunk and disorderly conduct you know you will be in for a fun night.
Some may say the inclusion of such information would encompass an undue intrusion into personal privacy or civil liberties, but the truth is, this is dating and this is America and if we don't put ourselves out there: the terrorists will have won
Monday, June 22, 2009
Some thoughts on Father's Day
OK, technically its no longer Sunday, in fact it's 4:00 Monday morning, I meant to write this earlier when it was still Father's Day, but I am working the graveyard at Red Cross and the activity has not allowed me to reflect until now. In some ways, all the better, I have always believed there is no greater time for reflection than the time as dawn approaches.
Now of course I know that Father's Day is one of those made up "holidays" designed to sell ties and gadgets as Valentines Day is designed to sell chocolate and underwear (or chocolate underwear I suppose) but that does not mean it is "made up" in a philosophical or spiritual sense. Hence then a few comments for those with or without fathers of any kind.
First topic is that closest to my heart, those with fathers who are no longer living. Obviously, that fact makes the concept of this day a little harder but also brings some unique prospectives and thoughts. I tend to think these thoughts probably have some merits whether you lost your father when he was young or old or when you were young or old. Grief has similarities no matter the specifics because no matter how you are or how old your father is or was, whether you were or are "Daddy's little girl" or one of his beloved "boys," I believe we never lose that part of us that hopes and believes that "Daddy can make anything better," Unfortunately that need or belief does not does not go away even after one's Father passes away, so I guess in the end I direct most of the comments of this sort to those who have lost father's recently, because I've been there and most importantly, I am still here.
When my Dad first died, I remember one of the thoughts that I had the most often and that terrified me the most was "what if my memories fade?, how can I survive a future when all I have to preserve my Dad is a past," The bad news is memories do fade, but they fade only in some ways. Naturally the who, what, when, where and why of all memories fade over time. The good news is, the spirit of memory never fades. Your Dad will reappear in you in ways that you could never think of. This of course will happen even if your father is still alive, but I believe that once your father passes on, it sneaks up on you in more subtle ways and often just at the right time. You will incorporate their quirks and phrases into yourself, for better and worse. Most interestingly, while some memories fade, others reappear in a sense. For once I don't mean this in any sort of Freudian repression sense, rather that they just pop up, usually little things you haven't thought about in years and recall again for no reason at all. I can tell you even with my Dad gone for nearly 8 years this still happens to me from time to time. At first this will bring tears but eventually I assure you it will bring chuckles and smiles (even if your eyes still water a bit)
Lastly, there will always remain moments that will bring you right back to the past. Although I have thus far kept away from my own personal memories (one because they are private, and two I have to maintain my emotions to write this) but I will share my own personal experience with this.
When we were younger we used to often play around the corner with the neighborhood kids like a lot of you did. Uniquely when my dad decided it was getting too dark and or we needed come home for dinner or whatever, he wouldn't call the neighbors. simply he would walk out to our front deck, put two fingers in his mouth and whistle. We heard that we wrapped up whatever game we were playing and headed back around the corner. It didn't mean we were in trouble (if that were the case he would have showed up in person with teeth clenched and eyes glaring, very effective I tell you), this was just a signal, his signal, our signal. Folks, to this day wherever I am, if I here that two fingered type whistle, I turn my head, it almost becomes instinct, an unconscious tribute of sorts, this example is supported by both my sisters, they both have the same reaction.
In the end, if you've lost your father recently, I quote Dr. Viktor Frankel from his book Man's Search for Meaning (a fantastic book on grief and survival), where he warns against "constructing monuments to your grief", I second this but instead encourage you to construct monuments to your memories, they are all you have and most importantly will always belong to you and alone.
For whose who still have your fathers in your lives, don't worry this won't just be a long way to say "to hell with you lucky bastards", rather personal thoughts on how I believe you can have the best relationship with your father (and other family members for that matter) For one, remember they are not perfect and naturally not all memories or times with your father can or will be positive, same for me, same for everybody.
Fact is part of the job of parenting is that no matter how hard they try your parents are gonna screw you up. In a movie I watched a couple days ago this was summed up with the line "...This is life, not heaven, you don't have to be perfect". Many people try their best to do the right thing but the trick is to remember that at times, the best we can give is going to be nowhere near 100 percent. The point of all this is to take the good with the bad, when it comes to Dad try to cherish the whole package best you can. Try your best to forgive and don't forget to remind him how thankful you are when he gets it right.
For better and worse, one family is all you get, save your energy for the real arguments. Family feuds and breakdowns are all too common but probably even more commonly avoidable. Avoid unnecessary regrets, they bring you nothing but a sense of premature loss. I have no idea if any of what I say is truly universal but I can tell you the last 4 words I ever said my father were "I love you Dad," so I like to think we did something right
Lastly I turn to those among us who never knew their fathers, or were abandoned, or abused by them. First things, first, you owe these men nothing aside from maybe a little card saying "Thanks for the sperm, but next time go fuck yourself,". Admiration and respect is earned not granted. The important thing to remember is although you may lack a true "dad, pretty much everyone has a man in their life that they admire and has imparted wisdom on them (by the way of course I know there plenty of mothers and women that fit this bill in our lives, by given it's fathers day I use the male examples for that reason only). Focus on these men, if they know how important they are to you, call and wish them a Happy Fathers Day or just to say thanks. If they don't know how much they mean to you, find the courage and way to tell them, chances are you'll be pleasantly surprised by the reaction. Remember that family should not always be defined by blood and blood alone. A father may share your blood, but a true "dad" shares your life. And even if on days like this if you still feel alone, take comfort in my belief that no one ever walks alone because, if I may mix metaphors, in the end, we are all passengers on the same ship and, trust me, none of us quite knows where it's going.
In love and May God Bless You Always
Now of course I know that Father's Day is one of those made up "holidays" designed to sell ties and gadgets as Valentines Day is designed to sell chocolate and underwear (or chocolate underwear I suppose) but that does not mean it is "made up" in a philosophical or spiritual sense. Hence then a few comments for those with or without fathers of any kind.
First topic is that closest to my heart, those with fathers who are no longer living. Obviously, that fact makes the concept of this day a little harder but also brings some unique prospectives and thoughts. I tend to think these thoughts probably have some merits whether you lost your father when he was young or old or when you were young or old. Grief has similarities no matter the specifics because no matter how you are or how old your father is or was, whether you were or are "Daddy's little girl" or one of his beloved "boys," I believe we never lose that part of us that hopes and believes that "Daddy can make anything better," Unfortunately that need or belief does not does not go away even after one's Father passes away, so I guess in the end I direct most of the comments of this sort to those who have lost father's recently, because I've been there and most importantly, I am still here.
When my Dad first died, I remember one of the thoughts that I had the most often and that terrified me the most was "what if my memories fade?, how can I survive a future when all I have to preserve my Dad is a past," The bad news is memories do fade, but they fade only in some ways. Naturally the who, what, when, where and why of all memories fade over time. The good news is, the spirit of memory never fades. Your Dad will reappear in you in ways that you could never think of. This of course will happen even if your father is still alive, but I believe that once your father passes on, it sneaks up on you in more subtle ways and often just at the right time. You will incorporate their quirks and phrases into yourself, for better and worse. Most interestingly, while some memories fade, others reappear in a sense. For once I don't mean this in any sort of Freudian repression sense, rather that they just pop up, usually little things you haven't thought about in years and recall again for no reason at all. I can tell you even with my Dad gone for nearly 8 years this still happens to me from time to time. At first this will bring tears but eventually I assure you it will bring chuckles and smiles (even if your eyes still water a bit)
Lastly, there will always remain moments that will bring you right back to the past. Although I have thus far kept away from my own personal memories (one because they are private, and two I have to maintain my emotions to write this) but I will share my own personal experience with this.
When we were younger we used to often play around the corner with the neighborhood kids like a lot of you did. Uniquely when my dad decided it was getting too dark and or we needed come home for dinner or whatever, he wouldn't call the neighbors. simply he would walk out to our front deck, put two fingers in his mouth and whistle. We heard that we wrapped up whatever game we were playing and headed back around the corner. It didn't mean we were in trouble (if that were the case he would have showed up in person with teeth clenched and eyes glaring, very effective I tell you), this was just a signal, his signal, our signal. Folks, to this day wherever I am, if I here that two fingered type whistle, I turn my head, it almost becomes instinct, an unconscious tribute of sorts, this example is supported by both my sisters, they both have the same reaction.
In the end, if you've lost your father recently, I quote Dr. Viktor Frankel from his book Man's Search for Meaning (a fantastic book on grief and survival), where he warns against "constructing monuments to your grief", I second this but instead encourage you to construct monuments to your memories, they are all you have and most importantly will always belong to you and alone.
For whose who still have your fathers in your lives, don't worry this won't just be a long way to say "to hell with you lucky bastards", rather personal thoughts on how I believe you can have the best relationship with your father (and other family members for that matter) For one, remember they are not perfect and naturally not all memories or times with your father can or will be positive, same for me, same for everybody.
Fact is part of the job of parenting is that no matter how hard they try your parents are gonna screw you up. In a movie I watched a couple days ago this was summed up with the line "...This is life, not heaven, you don't have to be perfect". Many people try their best to do the right thing but the trick is to remember that at times, the best we can give is going to be nowhere near 100 percent. The point of all this is to take the good with the bad, when it comes to Dad try to cherish the whole package best you can. Try your best to forgive and don't forget to remind him how thankful you are when he gets it right.
For better and worse, one family is all you get, save your energy for the real arguments. Family feuds and breakdowns are all too common but probably even more commonly avoidable. Avoid unnecessary regrets, they bring you nothing but a sense of premature loss. I have no idea if any of what I say is truly universal but I can tell you the last 4 words I ever said my father were "I love you Dad," so I like to think we did something right
Lastly I turn to those among us who never knew their fathers, or were abandoned, or abused by them. First things, first, you owe these men nothing aside from maybe a little card saying "Thanks for the sperm, but next time go fuck yourself,". Admiration and respect is earned not granted. The important thing to remember is although you may lack a true "dad, pretty much everyone has a man in their life that they admire and has imparted wisdom on them (by the way of course I know there plenty of mothers and women that fit this bill in our lives, by given it's fathers day I use the male examples for that reason only). Focus on these men, if they know how important they are to you, call and wish them a Happy Fathers Day or just to say thanks. If they don't know how much they mean to you, find the courage and way to tell them, chances are you'll be pleasantly surprised by the reaction. Remember that family should not always be defined by blood and blood alone. A father may share your blood, but a true "dad" shares your life. And even if on days like this if you still feel alone, take comfort in my belief that no one ever walks alone because, if I may mix metaphors, in the end, we are all passengers on the same ship and, trust me, none of us quite knows where it's going.
In love and May God Bless You Always
Monday, June 15, 2009
I'm just not that into you
For most of my life I have been both praised and criticized for being "old fashioned", and this undoubtedly will be again one of those times.
I hate technology. Now relax, I'm not implying I am a few mail bombs and a coffin size cabin away from old Teddy K (admittedly I don't remember how to spell his last name nor do I care to look it up), no he was just wacky, plus he went to Harvard, fuck Harvard.
What I mean more specifically is how crazy this Internet connectedness shit has gotten. Specifically this goddamn twitter thing. Admittedly I don't completely understand it and concede there are probably a few good uses for it, but really to me it just shows how the culture of self importance has gotten to pathological levels. Celebrity wise. why do I care to know that Aston Kutcher just scratched his ass or that Plaxico Burress has finally learned how to properly carry an illegal fire arm (yes I am a Giants fan, yes I am still bitter).
However if there anything worse than knowing the menial stuff celebrities are doing, it's you believing I or anyone else cares about the menial shit you are doing. If you have done something important, lets say deliver a baby while blindfolded during a traffic jam, then yes I will be impressed and most likely read about it in the paper, but if all you care for me to know that you are watching the latest episode of CSI while eating and Ben & Jerry's quite honestly I think you should jam the spoon up your ass, one because that's what you deserve and two, I'd sign up to read posts like that.
From where I sit, I'm just not that into you, and more importantly if I am friend of yours, I hopefully would learn about the happenings in your life, gee I don't know, through conversation, remember those?
To continue the indictment lets move on to youtube. Now given I have watched and laughed at my share of youtube knuckleheads, I know there is some contradiction in my rant but I warned there would be. Point is I laugh mostly due to the notion that said knuckleheads picked up the camera because they believed sincerely that whatever they were about to do was necessary for the world to see, and this my friends signals the stupefaction of modern society. Trust me, if you are a first semester film student and/or some burn out about to light a fart on fire, you're not in the world moving category.
Secondly, some of these "techno-dicks" (a phrase borrowed from my comedic hero Mr. Carlin) in my opinion are down right criminal. That's right I'm talking to you Mr. "David goes to the dentist guy", while funny as hell, you are also an asshole and a shitty parent. After I stopped laughing at the aforementioned video, I was profoundly disturbed by the notion that this idiot took the camera because he knew now was a good a time as ever to get good shots of a five year old tweaking. I'll tell you what pal, I'll be over in a minute to film David castrating you with a toy sand shovel. Now that's entertainment and I'm sure little Dave would get a few yucks out of it.
Lastly is facebook, truthfully I have little negative to say about fb because well it is one of the mediums I use for these posts and two I kind of get a kick out of being "friended" by people I haven't seen or thought about in 15 years. What gets me about facebook is that everyone is on it. Both of my grandmother's are on it. Folks I love my grandmothers but something about that scares the shit out of me, limited profiles or not. God forbid one of them gets cute and or confused and before you know it ole Grams wants to know "What sex position are you"
Conversely, my mother, who is by no means dumb, barely knows how to send an e-mail (she prefers I do it first so she can just reply, "It's easier that way Sonny") and can't be bothered to have saving cell numbers or texting explained to her. I take true comfort in that for now because the first time my mom texts me I will most likely involuntarily shit my pants.
Lastly, so as to not seem as though I am completely unintrigued by the possibilities of technology, I do think Twitter in particular has a place in this world, in the hands of U.S. Correctional inmates: Imagine a few possibilities:
Charles Manson: the Beach Boys still won't reply to my letters, I swear I have written some good songs in here
Khalid Sheik Mohammad: Man they should call this stuff "water boring", same shit different day (side note: while I tend to be quite liberal on the torture controversy, that motherfucker planned 9/11, do with him as you please black ops)
John Hinckley: Watching Taxi Driver again, gets better every time
New Inmate 032: Cellmate says pig tails "work on me"
Inmate 472: Dropped the soap again, SON OF A BITCH!
That's it for now, until next time
Tweet Tweet, Bang Bang
I hate technology. Now relax, I'm not implying I am a few mail bombs and a coffin size cabin away from old Teddy K (admittedly I don't remember how to spell his last name nor do I care to look it up), no he was just wacky, plus he went to Harvard, fuck Harvard.
What I mean more specifically is how crazy this Internet connectedness shit has gotten. Specifically this goddamn twitter thing. Admittedly I don't completely understand it and concede there are probably a few good uses for it, but really to me it just shows how the culture of self importance has gotten to pathological levels. Celebrity wise. why do I care to know that Aston Kutcher just scratched his ass or that Plaxico Burress has finally learned how to properly carry an illegal fire arm (yes I am a Giants fan, yes I am still bitter).
However if there anything worse than knowing the menial stuff celebrities are doing, it's you believing I or anyone else cares about the menial shit you are doing. If you have done something important, lets say deliver a baby while blindfolded during a traffic jam, then yes I will be impressed and most likely read about it in the paper, but if all you care for me to know that you are watching the latest episode of CSI while eating and Ben & Jerry's quite honestly I think you should jam the spoon up your ass, one because that's what you deserve and two, I'd sign up to read posts like that.
From where I sit, I'm just not that into you, and more importantly if I am friend of yours, I hopefully would learn about the happenings in your life, gee I don't know, through conversation, remember those?
To continue the indictment lets move on to youtube. Now given I have watched and laughed at my share of youtube knuckleheads, I know there is some contradiction in my rant but I warned there would be. Point is I laugh mostly due to the notion that said knuckleheads picked up the camera because they believed sincerely that whatever they were about to do was necessary for the world to see, and this my friends signals the stupefaction of modern society. Trust me, if you are a first semester film student and/or some burn out about to light a fart on fire, you're not in the world moving category.
Secondly, some of these "techno-dicks" (a phrase borrowed from my comedic hero Mr. Carlin) in my opinion are down right criminal. That's right I'm talking to you Mr. "David goes to the dentist guy", while funny as hell, you are also an asshole and a shitty parent. After I stopped laughing at the aforementioned video, I was profoundly disturbed by the notion that this idiot took the camera because he knew now was a good a time as ever to get good shots of a five year old tweaking. I'll tell you what pal, I'll be over in a minute to film David castrating you with a toy sand shovel. Now that's entertainment and I'm sure little Dave would get a few yucks out of it.
Lastly is facebook, truthfully I have little negative to say about fb because well it is one of the mediums I use for these posts and two I kind of get a kick out of being "friended" by people I haven't seen or thought about in 15 years. What gets me about facebook is that everyone is on it. Both of my grandmother's are on it. Folks I love my grandmothers but something about that scares the shit out of me, limited profiles or not. God forbid one of them gets cute and or confused and before you know it ole Grams wants to know "What sex position are you"
Conversely, my mother, who is by no means dumb, barely knows how to send an e-mail (she prefers I do it first so she can just reply, "It's easier that way Sonny") and can't be bothered to have saving cell numbers or texting explained to her. I take true comfort in that for now because the first time my mom texts me I will most likely involuntarily shit my pants.
Lastly, so as to not seem as though I am completely unintrigued by the possibilities of technology, I do think Twitter in particular has a place in this world, in the hands of U.S. Correctional inmates: Imagine a few possibilities:
Charles Manson: the Beach Boys still won't reply to my letters, I swear I have written some good songs in here
Khalid Sheik Mohammad: Man they should call this stuff "water boring", same shit different day (side note: while I tend to be quite liberal on the torture controversy, that motherfucker planned 9/11, do with him as you please black ops)
John Hinckley: Watching Taxi Driver again, gets better every time
New Inmate 032: Cellmate says pig tails "work on me"
Inmate 472: Dropped the soap again, SON OF A BITCH!
That's it for now, until next time
Tweet Tweet, Bang Bang
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Welcome to my head
To begin I need to reiterate my general distrust and distaste of the pomposity that defines the blog and youtube era. However I also am fascinated by the general contraditions within myself and in the world. To that end, recently I truly realized that sometimes if something pisses me off, makes me think, makes me laugh, puzzles or disturbs me or generally intrigues me I feel compelled to write about it.
Therefore I hereby announce the creation of a series of these off the cuff, sometimes unplanned, complusive writings called "From Where I Sit", naturally the title is a wheelchair pun (you know I can't resist) but in truth was suggested to me by a friend years ago in conjunction with another idea I had at the time.
I have no idea how regular these will be so don't wait by the screen for another, but they will come (in fact the next couple probably very soon) and I have also retroactively made two older notes the first two of the series. I may come off as a genius, a fool, bitter, optimistic, angry or happy but goes so life so if you want to comment on anything I write or what you think about me in general, I encourage it.
I'd like to claim I am am doing this for no one but myself but the truth is, I believe anyone inspired to put thoughts on paper wants others to read them even if they don't admit it.
Bottomline: Read if you want, if you don't, I'll be writing them anyway
Yours truly,
Chris
AKA (and yes I have been called all of these at one time or another):
Higgs, Higgy, Higgy Smalls, The Notorious H.I.G, Higgy Pop, Clyde, Sonny, Tofer, McWheelie, the H-man, Drunkie McWheelchair
Therefore I hereby announce the creation of a series of these off the cuff, sometimes unplanned, complusive writings called "From Where I Sit", naturally the title is a wheelchair pun (you know I can't resist) but in truth was suggested to me by a friend years ago in conjunction with another idea I had at the time.
I have no idea how regular these will be so don't wait by the screen for another, but they will come (in fact the next couple probably very soon) and I have also retroactively made two older notes the first two of the series. I may come off as a genius, a fool, bitter, optimistic, angry or happy but goes so life so if you want to comment on anything I write or what you think about me in general, I encourage it.
I'd like to claim I am am doing this for no one but myself but the truth is, I believe anyone inspired to put thoughts on paper wants others to read them even if they don't admit it.
Bottomline: Read if you want, if you don't, I'll be writing them anyway
Yours truly,
Chris
AKA (and yes I have been called all of these at one time or another):
Higgs, Higgy, Higgy Smalls, The Notorious H.I.G, Higgy Pop, Clyde, Sonny, Tofer, McWheelie, the H-man, Drunkie McWheelchair
Obama-Mania meets March Madness
(originally written March 91th 2009)First let me say, I like sports, when pressed you might even get me to say (shudder), I like politics. This is getting ridiculous however. I am of course referring to the major news story making the rounds on both cable news and sports networks alike that informed us (as we awaited with bated breath) that President Obama had make his “official” picks for the NCAA Tournament! Really? I have long been of the belief that we should be more critical of media outlets than we are of politicians themselves and this “news” only reaffirms this.
Let’s remember something here folks, the President is not a celebrity outside of the fact that he is indeed the President of the United States. He (and his wife) should get the press for doing Presidential things, not of the Paris Hilton variety. During election build-up it is perfectly fine and perhaps even appropriate to cover Obama “the man” and Mrs. Obama “the woman”, after all how could we vote for him if we didn’t know what he looked like with his shirt off, what his jump shot form was like or where Michelle gets her dresses made or how she will decorate the Lincoln bedroom.? Now, however I am only interested in their actions as the 44th President and First Lady. To his sincere credit, the President himself seems even to be a little disturbed by his version of Obamamania. Yesterday, on one of the “bracket” clips running on ESPN, reporter Andy Katz was questioning our Commander in Chief on the strength of schedule of some team to which he responded (while looking more than a little uncomfortable) something to the effect of “Look , I catch ESPN highlights, I don’t have time to stay up to 2am to watch these games,” Amen Sir! He gets it! Why can’t the rest of us? That said, a sitting President has no business appearing on Jay Leno (maybe Conan) either, but I can almost understand that from a PR standpoint.
You want to talk about Obama? Let’s talk about ending the War in Iraq (but escalating the Afghani campaign, which means that nobody’s really coming home anytime soon), Closing the prison at Gitmo Bay and ending torture (however the Executive Orders doing so are very unclear as to whether we can or should actually let these prisoners go nor does it make any mention of stopping the practice of “extraordinary rendition”), or the Economic plan (where is the money actually coming from?). Now before you dismiss this bit on the account that I didn’t vote for Obama (thus rendering my opinions over the next 4-8 years moot of course), let me clarify, first, I like the man a great deal and have seen him speak in person, giving me great hope and secondly, I am not saying that the above plans and strategies will not work nor that they are even bad ideas, rather the point is the man has been in office for two months, let’s give him some space and time to figure this business out and in the meantime report the complete stories. “Yes We Can” can only come to fruition if we give the Big O (no not Oprah) a little space rather than getting his Tourney picks or bantering with Leno’s chin. Secondly, in the name of all that is Holy, celebrities and pundits alike, please stop referring to Mr. Obama as a “great” President. Talk about no pressure huh? Time, and not intention, determines greatness. Is he strong, ambitious, inspiring, well meaning, and (unlike his predecessor) generally interested in the job? Damn straight! Great? Talk to me in 4-8 years, for now I’ll parrot Bill Mahr’s position on religion, I don’t know.
The point of this is not that am I claiming some sort of “super citizen” status, rather that I do my best to do my own research and form my own opinions. There is a reason why I am a proud to be a subscriber to the New York Post and have never read the New York Times in full a single day of my life, why?, ok for one I can’t fold the goddamn thing but really because I take news media for what it is, entertainment. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good laugh (The Post is good there too) so if and when President Obama chokes on a pretzel (Bush) or falls down half a flight of stairs while rumored to be stoned (Clinton), by all means give me a full color front page, but until then, pardon me for not giving a shit that the President thinks the Tar Heels are going win it all.
Let’s remember something here folks, the President is not a celebrity outside of the fact that he is indeed the President of the United States. He (and his wife) should get the press for doing Presidential things, not of the Paris Hilton variety. During election build-up it is perfectly fine and perhaps even appropriate to cover Obama “the man” and Mrs. Obama “the woman”, after all how could we vote for him if we didn’t know what he looked like with his shirt off, what his jump shot form was like or where Michelle gets her dresses made or how she will decorate the Lincoln bedroom.? Now, however I am only interested in their actions as the 44th President and First Lady. To his sincere credit, the President himself seems even to be a little disturbed by his version of Obamamania. Yesterday, on one of the “bracket” clips running on ESPN, reporter Andy Katz was questioning our Commander in Chief on the strength of schedule of some team to which he responded (while looking more than a little uncomfortable) something to the effect of “Look , I catch ESPN highlights, I don’t have time to stay up to 2am to watch these games,” Amen Sir! He gets it! Why can’t the rest of us? That said, a sitting President has no business appearing on Jay Leno (maybe Conan) either, but I can almost understand that from a PR standpoint.
You want to talk about Obama? Let’s talk about ending the War in Iraq (but escalating the Afghani campaign, which means that nobody’s really coming home anytime soon), Closing the prison at Gitmo Bay and ending torture (however the Executive Orders doing so are very unclear as to whether we can or should actually let these prisoners go nor does it make any mention of stopping the practice of “extraordinary rendition”), or the Economic plan (where is the money actually coming from?). Now before you dismiss this bit on the account that I didn’t vote for Obama (thus rendering my opinions over the next 4-8 years moot of course), let me clarify, first, I like the man a great deal and have seen him speak in person, giving me great hope and secondly, I am not saying that the above plans and strategies will not work nor that they are even bad ideas, rather the point is the man has been in office for two months, let’s give him some space and time to figure this business out and in the meantime report the complete stories. “Yes We Can” can only come to fruition if we give the Big O (no not Oprah) a little space rather than getting his Tourney picks or bantering with Leno’s chin. Secondly, in the name of all that is Holy, celebrities and pundits alike, please stop referring to Mr. Obama as a “great” President. Talk about no pressure huh? Time, and not intention, determines greatness. Is he strong, ambitious, inspiring, well meaning, and (unlike his predecessor) generally interested in the job? Damn straight! Great? Talk to me in 4-8 years, for now I’ll parrot Bill Mahr’s position on religion, I don’t know.
The point of this is not that am I claiming some sort of “super citizen” status, rather that I do my best to do my own research and form my own opinions. There is a reason why I am a proud to be a subscriber to the New York Post and have never read the New York Times in full a single day of my life, why?, ok for one I can’t fold the goddamn thing but really because I take news media for what it is, entertainment. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good laugh (The Post is good there too) so if and when President Obama chokes on a pretzel (Bush) or falls down half a flight of stairs while rumored to be stoned (Clinton), by all means give me a full color front page, but until then, pardon me for not giving a shit that the President thinks the Tar Heels are going win it all.
Silver linings
originally written Friday, September 12, 2008
Normally I don't really do this blog stuff, because who am I to think my thoughts or life is so important or profound it needs to annouce itself on you, however I have been thinking on something for the last day that I felt the urge to make public. When one is watching the news or reading the papers, or actually attempting to find a way to objectively learn about (mostly horrible) world events, it quite easy for us (myself included) to adopt the " hell in a hand basket" position but even when the world looks pretty gray and cloudly...there is always a silver lining to be found
Of course I make no big secret of the fact that my father was a firefighter murdered at the World Trade Center. Naturally the last few days have been very difficult for myself and the rest or my family. One irony of course is that this is also a period throughout which I feel very loved. Among the dozens of calls, messages and visits I've received over the past few days, there are two in particular that I feel compelled to share because of what I feel they remind us about the general goodness of humanity. These two dear friends will remain nameless here (even thought they may be identifible through some of the details) one because I am not able to directly ask their permission and secondly because it is not who they are but they do that is the point of this letter.
The first came from a friend who a month ago left the United States to travel to Uganda to do nursing work in orphanages and hospitals (in conjuction with missionary work). Naturally in such a country (particularly where this person is located) access to cell phone or internet is spotty at best, yet like clockwork yesterday in the afternoon I received a text message from a strange number that was this person reminding me that I was in their thoughts and offered their signature admonishment to "keep my head up"
The Second came in the form of a Myspace message (can I get sued for writing that here?) from another friend who is a Marine currently serving in Iraq, telling me I was in their thoughts and hoped my family were doing ok.The point and thought provoking thing for me in all of this is not neccessarily that these to people are important to me because clearly they are but that for one they both chose admirable and selfless ways to serve the world the world at large and secondly given the difficulty of communication and lack of "free time" in both of these situations , they still both were motivated and moved to check in on someone they loved that that they knew my be hurting in their own way back home.
Both of these people literally have chosen God and country to express a love they have not just for friends and family but every human on this earth. This country and much of the world are gripped in political squabbling and general cynicism, and these two examples remind me and should remind all of us that because there is no place or more importantly no time for for politics or cynicism on the battlefields of war or hunger and disease, it's the simple humanity and oneness among us and a general attitude to "do unto others" that proves that this world and it's people are not quite ready to book that hand-basket ride to hell just yet.
Lastly, rather than put ourselves down if we are unable to serve the far reaches of the world in one way or another, we should instead assert with pride and conviction the things that we say or believe, and perform the jobs and work we do with true purpose because no matter how big or small or how close or far they may be, all clouds need silver linings....
In love and reflection,
Normally I don't really do this blog stuff, because who am I to think my thoughts or life is so important or profound it needs to annouce itself on you, however I have been thinking on something for the last day that I felt the urge to make public. When one is watching the news or reading the papers, or actually attempting to find a way to objectively learn about (mostly horrible) world events, it quite easy for us (myself included) to adopt the " hell in a hand basket" position but even when the world looks pretty gray and cloudly...there is always a silver lining to be found
Of course I make no big secret of the fact that my father was a firefighter murdered at the World Trade Center. Naturally the last few days have been very difficult for myself and the rest or my family. One irony of course is that this is also a period throughout which I feel very loved. Among the dozens of calls, messages and visits I've received over the past few days, there are two in particular that I feel compelled to share because of what I feel they remind us about the general goodness of humanity. These two dear friends will remain nameless here (even thought they may be identifible through some of the details) one because I am not able to directly ask their permission and secondly because it is not who they are but they do that is the point of this letter.
The first came from a friend who a month ago left the United States to travel to Uganda to do nursing work in orphanages and hospitals (in conjuction with missionary work). Naturally in such a country (particularly where this person is located) access to cell phone or internet is spotty at best, yet like clockwork yesterday in the afternoon I received a text message from a strange number that was this person reminding me that I was in their thoughts and offered their signature admonishment to "keep my head up"
The Second came in the form of a Myspace message (can I get sued for writing that here?) from another friend who is a Marine currently serving in Iraq, telling me I was in their thoughts and hoped my family were doing ok.The point and thought provoking thing for me in all of this is not neccessarily that these to people are important to me because clearly they are but that for one they both chose admirable and selfless ways to serve the world the world at large and secondly given the difficulty of communication and lack of "free time" in both of these situations , they still both were motivated and moved to check in on someone they loved that that they knew my be hurting in their own way back home.
Both of these people literally have chosen God and country to express a love they have not just for friends and family but every human on this earth. This country and much of the world are gripped in political squabbling and general cynicism, and these two examples remind me and should remind all of us that because there is no place or more importantly no time for for politics or cynicism on the battlefields of war or hunger and disease, it's the simple humanity and oneness among us and a general attitude to "do unto others" that proves that this world and it's people are not quite ready to book that hand-basket ride to hell just yet.
Lastly, rather than put ourselves down if we are unable to serve the far reaches of the world in one way or another, we should instead assert with pride and conviction the things that we say or believe, and perform the jobs and work we do with true purpose because no matter how big or small or how close or far they may be, all clouds need silver linings....
In love and reflection,
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