Posted by UnknownSelasa, 21 Januari 20140
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Day 21 ~
Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes.
- Steve Winterburn
Hi there. We're changing things up here. I was getting annoyed by the life quotes on GoodReads because they had reached the point of repetition, so I'm going to spend the last part of this challenge doing something a little different every day.
This quote, sent to me by a friend. She thought this would be a great addition to the challenge, and I agreed.
This is my blog and I can change my mind, right? Besides which, I've lived this quote a few times.
First though, let's talk about the guy who said it.
This quote is quite frequently falsely attributed to William Gibson, which would be very interesting if it was his since he's one of the godfathers of steampunk. He has said on numerous occasions that it isn't though.
Steve Winterburn said it. He's a humorist who is best known for his work in the Twittersphere.
On to the quote.
We live in interesting times. There is still a lot of stigma when it comes to mental illness in general, very real stigma that affects those who live with it, and yet there is this simultaneous societal obsession with self-diagnosis.
You know these people, the ones who google every symptom they ever have. The ones who declare that loving organization must make them have OCD, that because they are sad that their dog died they must be depressed, that because they got nervous before something big happened they must have anxiety.
Stop that.
Really. Those of us who live with this stuff for real need you to stop.
It makes people take us less seriously. It makes light of what it is really like to live with these conditions.
And I digress.
The quote itself is right on. I speak that truth from the wonder of living it. When you've been through some of the things I have been, when every time you turn around, someone else is betraying you, failing you, lying to you, it's hell.
I've been there. For a long time while I was in that place, I tried to rationalize it. A long, long time. I thought that there had to be something wrong with me, that it wasn't possible that there could be this many things wrong. That I was the crazy one.
Some of them helped convince me that I was.
Then, one day it was all revealed for what it was. It wasn't me. It was never me. I was collateral damage, the one hurt because of the things they were doing that really didn't have much to do with me at all.
I was, in fact, just surrounded by assholes.
Let me tell you, it was a glorious moment when I finally realized it.
When you've thought you were the crazy one, it's freeing, for sure.
Be cool, you guys. Be cool. It might not last, so I'm going to ride this wave as long as it lasts. It is still Tuesday though, so we need to address the things that fired me up this week.
Richard Sherman, a.k.a. the thug who isn't
Immediately after the Seahawks beat the 49ers Sunday, Erin Andrews shoved a microphone in Richard Sherman's face. The cornerback had just been involved in a scuffle with Michael Crabtree that resulted in an unsportsmanlike call in one of the final plays of the game.
You know, the last game that they needed to win to get to the Superbowl. The game that, quite literally, came down to that play.
Crabtree and Sherman have a fairly long history of conflict and drama, both on and off the field, and this particular game was a very physical and brutal one, one that resulted in quite a few injuries.
In that moment, it's not hard to understand that he was emotional, that he was pissed, that there was a lot going through his mind. You've seen people scream at the television from the comfort of their home, and unless you've been on that field in that kind of moment, I don't think that most people can understand all the emotions of the game.
Anyway. He was brash and called Crabtree out, by name. My immediate reaction was whoa dude, slow your roll...you won. I wondered immediately whose idea it had been to shove a microphone in his face right then.
The internet exploded. Everyone had an opinion. Many people had the same gut reaction I did, which was that he was totally overreacting. When I understood more of the back story, it made sense though for sure. Sherman, in the heat of the moment, was venting.
Like I do here all the damn time. No one calls me a thug.
I retract the statement I made about him myself, because it was unfairly based on that sideline interview alone. There's always more to the story. Always. We'd all do well to remember that, even and especially me.
What I saw happen in the hours after the interview, even through most of the day yesterday, though, was worse. Far worse than whatever he said. Some people decided that he was violent, that he was rude, that he was to be vilified, that he was a jerk, that he was an idiot, that he was a thug. There are worse things he was called, but I'm not writing them here because they make me sick.
How many people say the same thing about Philip Rivers when he bitches about other players? Not many, and certainly not the entire internet. Begs the question, then, of why did people react this way to him?
I certainly have my opinion why, and it's not a pretty one - people think it's acceptable to call a passionate, in your face black football player a thug, which says far more about the people calling him that than it ever will about him.
He's far from being a thug. Sherman graduated from Stanford. He's getting his master's degree. He started a charity to help keep kids in need dressed and outfitted with school supplies. He's articulate and is arguably the best corner in the game. He didn't have to explain why he was fired up, he didn't have to go public with a statement about the interview, but he did in a piece he wrote for MMQB on SI.com. You should read it if you haven't already.
We can't demand that these guys are passionate and give 110% on the field, then the moment the clock runs down, expect them to act differently. People don't have on and off switches.
And people sure as hell can't throw words like thug around the way they have been.
Keep doing your thing, Richard. You're the one going to the dance. Maybe just slow your roll a tad. Maybe.
If the water is safe, why isn't it?
The water contaminated by the chemical spill in West Virginia was declared safe last week.
Then why are hospital admissions almost doubled for chemical exposure? Why did the Governor, when challenged on the issue of safety yesterday, tell reporters this:
Why are they telling pregnant women to drink bottled water for even longer than everyone else if it's so safe?
Mary Matalin and James Carville
They both appeared on Real Time with Bill Maher this last weekend. I have to say that their relationship has always fascinated me a bit because I can't imagine being married to someone who basically disagrees with everything I believe.
Anyhow, I don't know if I could do it. My husband and I mostly agree on the issues, though he does so enjoy playing the devil's advocate with me just so that I'll let my Luther out on him and not anyone else. You guys should thank him for that, by the way...because he is such a pain in my ass, I tease out the itty bitty nuances of my arguments long before I write about them here.
Her appearance baffled me though, mostly because she seemed to be hopped up on pain meds. Or drunk. Or high. Or something. She's normally a lot more articulate than she was, so I'm just going to work off the assumption that she was altered in some way or another.
She got into it for a while with Jennifer Granholm, the former Governor of Michigan, on the topic of women's rights and the lack of female representatives in all levels of government. I just. Well. You should watch it. I was shaking my head for almost the whole thing.
There are other stories I could include, but I'm riding that wave of happiness.
Day 20 ~ “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” ~ Martin Luther King Jr.
Though he wasn't the first, he became the most visible leader of the civil rights movement. Dr. King founded the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and helped to organize the March on Washington, among many other significant contributions to the movement. He is most famous for his I have a dream speech, given at the culmination of the March.
Today is the day that we celebrate him.
I found it odd that I hadn't run across one of his quotes yet in this project, but then realized the most likely reason - tagging, of all things. The list I am using is on GoodReads, and the quotes are pulled up in the category they are tagged in only. This quote, tagged only as inspirational, which seems just wrong to me. It is that, certainly, but it's more than that and should, in my opinion, be tagged for life as well.
Anyhow, on to the quote, my personal favorite of his.
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
Coming from a man like him, it's not hard to see what he is most likely talking about in this instance. He was a leader of a nonviolent movement demanding equality. He understood and mastered the use of his words in a way that very few people ever achieve. He would not be silenced, he fought for what was right and just.
Some would interpret this quote to just be about fighting oppression. I don't, though that certainly is a large component of it. He certainly would remind us today to open our eyes to the wrongs in the world, and to not just observe them, but to try and effect change however we can. The first, most obvious way to change anything, and the most essential step in any type of progress is to expose the wrongness in the first place.
It's why I do so much of what I do here, though there are times I find myself questioning my motivations, particularly when I get hate mail and friends sever ties with me over something I have written. I am just not capable of ignoring injustices. I'm not designed that way, I guess. I see something bad happening and feel compelled to open the doors and windows and shine a spotlight on it for the world to see.
I don't think he is just talking about injustices though. He's talking about the things that matter, all of the things.
When you see it from that perspective, you must ask yourself what it is in life that matters. What in society matters. Who matters.
You'll find that list a lot longer than anticipated, most likely.
How many of those things do we cast aside, do we become complacent with, do we not give our full attention to, do we put off until tomorrow?
That list, also probably longer than we want to admit.
Posted by UnknownMinggu, 19 Januari 20140
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Day 19 ~ “Who are you to judge the life I live? I know I'm not perfect -and I don't live to be- but before you start pointing fingers... make sure you hands are clean!”
The man who brought reggae to the masses, who had one of the most profound effects on music as we know it was also a terribly observant person. He was misunderstood by many, and though he was judged by others almost constantly, he resisted doing it himself.
This quote embodies so much about who he was and how he saw the world, and it's one that more people need to read and take to heart.
It seems like there is more hatred, vitriol, judgment and ugliness in the world now than there has ever been in my lifetime. I think part of it is the existence of the internet, the false power that people feel when they can hide behind a keyboard. If you wouldn't say something to someone's face, you shouldn't say it at all, but we all know that doesn't happen in real life. Just spend three minutes on social media and you'll see it.
I think part of it is the growing extremism in the country, the factions of people who are insistent on pitting themselves against others, for whatever reason they deem legitimate and appropriate.
I think part of it is the reality of our media these days. There isn't much true journalism anymore, and most of the talking heads on the television aren't communicating unbiased information, they are selling a side. Everything is spun, stories are biased, for as much as is discussed, there are all the stories that no one will touch. Keeping people ignorant is a great way to convince them that you are right.
I think part of it is the fact that empathy is dying. We don't care about other people enough anymore. We worry about ourselves, about whatever makes us happy right at this exact moment. We don't care about tomorrow or what happens to someone else. We are shortsighted and selfish. The only way to stop this is to start caring again. To teach kids to care. To walk the walk.
I think, though, that most judging comes from insecurity. We want to believe that we are better people, stronger people, happier people, more stable people...and instead of feeling secure with whoever we are, we decide that it's easier to see the flaws in others instead. Instead of working on our own issues, we point fingers and rage about the things we deem wrong with everyone else. Not because we're right but because it makes us feel better.
Temporarily.
It's not worth it.
Life is short. Be happy. If you aren't happy, figure out why and work on it. Leave everyone else alone.
Day 18 ~ “To laugh often and love much; to win the respect of intelligent persons and the affection of children; to earn the approbation of honest citizens and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to give of one’s self; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to have played and laughed with enthusiasm and sung with exultation; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived—this is to have succeeded.” ~ Bessie Anderson Stanley
I had never heard of Bessie Anderson Stanley, but have seen this quote or similar incarnations falsely attributed to other writers, primarily Ralph Waldo Emerson.
I did a quick search of her, only to find out that this quote was the winning entry in a contest, the prompt being what is the definition of success? I also realized pretty quickly that the quote was different than this one, though they are fairly similar.
The quote is one that is cited in pieces all over pinterest and in inspirational posters, reminding people that true success isn't rooted in material things, but instead in the impact you make in the world. Whether most people really take it to heart though, or just like to hang pretty signs on their walls, is subject to debate I suppose.
Honestly.
People, particularly in this society, are materialistic. The pursuit of bigger, faster, newer. The whining about having to wait for the newest version of the iphone to be released. The complaining the entire time they are on vacation because it isn't as perfect as it should be. The car to keep up with the Joneses. The Ineedabiggerhouseitis. Even the people who hang these saying on the walls of their homes don't usually seem to get it...not really, anyway.
It's hard, fighting the materialism. Everything in the media, on the television, in the magazines tells us that we aren't complete without the things they want us to buy.
Life isn't about things.
Life isn't some contest of material acquisition.
You can't take it with you when you go.
Again, I am sure that I am jaded by the experiences of my life, but I just know that in the end all that matters is how you treated people and what kind of legacy you leave. No one is going to care what car you drove or how big the number on your paycheck was or if the diamond in the ring was real or fake.
If it won't matter then, it shouldn't matter now.
What does matter are the things she writes about.
Laughter, friendship, love, embracing and using your abilities, humility, charity, seeing the beauty around you - that's what life is about.
I've still never used marijuana. AND I LIVE IN COLORADO, YOU GUYS.
You know what though???
I love Taco Bell.
Love it.
I'm not in college anymore, though I have fond memories of being crammed with far too many people into far too small of a car to make late night runs...only to have us all wake up the following morning telling crazy ass stories about the dreams we had with bellies full of tacos.
I don't love it because the food is good, and certainly not because it's anything close to the authentic Mexican food that I grew up loving in Southern California - you know, the kind where you walk roll out of the restaurant having gained ten pounds. Ahhhh.
Let me just have this moment, you guys. (I've been trapped in the land of green chile sauce for 9 years)
One of the great downsides to moving away from SoCal is that I moved away from places like that. It took us eight years to find a decent Mexican restaurant here and the honest truth is that my cooking is damn close to even that one decent restaurant.
Y'all haven't lived until you've had my beans. For serious.
Anyway, this post is supposed to be about Taco Bell, and it will be. I just needed to have my moment of culinary reflection.
The Bell.
Aside from being hella cheap, I love it. I especially love the Doritos Locos tacos with Fire sauce. Nom.
Most recently I found a reason to adore the Bell because my teeny tiny son, the one who has fallen off the growth chart on for weight a few times, discovered the crunchy Taco Bell taco. He loves the crunchy Taco Bell taco. I feel less guilty about letting him eat them as a parent since they have to put actual meat in there now instead of whatever the hell it was before.
Please don't tell me. I'd really rather not know.
My love of the Bell is longer standing than this recent adoration of the crunchy taco though. It goes back over fourteen years now.
You see, Taco Bell did something no other place could do.
It made my husband eat. It kept him from dropping too much weight too fast.
When he was diagnosed with cancer and learned that he would have to go through fairly intense radiation to his abdominal cavity, we knew right away that it was going to mess with his entire digestive system. He'd already started dropping weight, weight that he didn't really have to drop back then, and it was going to get worse in a hurry. The nurses gave me all kinds of weight boosting ideas, gave me coupons for nutritional drinks, I tried everything I could think of and he wouldn't touch any of it.
A few days in (radiation was daily), we adjusted to the fact that he'd have a one hour window every afternoon, right after his treatments. That was the only hour of the 24 that he'd be even close to hungry. And he wanted Taco Bell.
Specifically, he wanted bean burritos.
He ate one a day for the rest of the time he was in radiation, and most of those days it was the only thing he kept down. I didn't argue with him too much because I figured there were worse things in the world he could eat. It had protein and carbs and cheese, and most importantly, it sounded good to him and he kept it down.
It became so routine that the car just drove itself there every day and the employees started to anticipate when we'd be by.
Ten years later, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. The chemo was hell, the radiation on top of it made everything worse, but that glorious neon bell in the sky came to the rescue again.
He didn't want to eat much, but he craved Taco Bell.
We'd learned not to ask questions long before then.
When we were there to visit, every time we went out, I just brought some home. When I left to take care of him at the end, any trip I made out included a loop of the drive-through. I tend to support the theory that he had digestive fondness for it because when he first started his business and was broke as hell, the lab was right behind a Taco Bell.
Like the muscle memory of a well trained athlete, his body craved what it knew.
Or something like that.
I know it's fast food. I know that calling it food probably isn't entirely accurate. I know it's terrible. I know that the meat wasn't entirely meat for like ever. I know that the shells have GMO corn. I know all that. I know. So please don't preach at me. I know.
And you know what?
I still freaking adore the place.
Always will.
I'm pretty sure that the food is laced with magic fairy dust....but I'm still not asking any questions.
I planned to write about teen movies today, and I fully intend to do that soon. I just have to get my head on straight first.
There's too much else going on in there right now for me to think about movies.
Today is the 20th anniversary of the Northridge earthquake.
TWENTY YEARS.
It happened early in the morning. I can honestly say that I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life as I was that day. It sounded like a freight train ran into the side of the house. It felt like the world had picked everything up and shook it.
I grew up in Southern California, lived about five miles from the epicenter. There is a huge crack that ran down the canyon, through the neighborhood, and directly under our house.
I was 16. A senior in high school. Fortunately it didn't hit during the day, or I might not be here, along with a bunch of my classmates. The concrete overhangs collapsed at school. We were out of our school for two months, sharing a schedule with our cross-town rivals.
Part of living in Southern California is living with the reality that an earthquake can strike at any time. We did drills for them, were well trained in what we were supposed to do to stay safe and shielded in the event one hit.
Then the earthquake happened and panic set in. All those years of drills and training went out the door and instinct took over. Just get out of the house. Get out. It was the only thing I could think of. GET OUT NOW. Oh shit. Oh shit! OH SHIT. OH SHIT!!!!
I couldn't move for a while. I was so scared I couldn't even scream. When I could stand, I was knocked over. The door was jammed shut and I was being pelted with whatever had been on the shelves in my room that had been turned into projectiles.
When it stopped, I met my parents and brother in the hall. Everyone was freaking out. We got down the stairs in the dark, tripped over whatever had fallen, and got to the front door. All the car alarms were going off, but the power was gone.
It was dark. Warm. Just the slightest hint of a breeze.
My Dad was sitting on the driveway, rocking back and forth. My Mom was talking and talking and talking and worrying and worrying and worrying.
We checked on the neighbors to make sure everyone got out, that no one was injured. Everyone gathered on front lawns and wondered what the hell we were going to do. The aftershocks came one after another.
At first light, I went back into the house, against the wishes of my parents. I had to get my brother's medications out. The dust clouds were forming all over the hills, there was smoke in the air from fires, and he needed to breathe.
The debris in the kitchen was thigh high, but I found it all. You don't feel the cuts and scrapes when adrenaline is pumping through your body, you just do it.
We were without power for four days I think, gas for longer. We had no water for over a week, used the pool water in buckets to flush the toilets. We had to boil it for weeks.
The whole house shook with every aftershock. We slept in the car for almost a week. I use the word slept as though I ever actually slept. It was years before I slept soundly again.
The afternoon of the day it happened, I saw one police car drive down the road next to ours. That was it. No one was coming. We had to learn to figure out how to make this work on our own.
It's one hell of a way to learn survival skills, but the things I learned that week have been used many more times since.
Keep bottled water and canned food on hand at all times. Keep flashlights, batteries and a battery powered radio as well. Sleep with shoes next to you. Know where the gas, electricity and water shutoffs are for your home. Have an evacuation plan for your home and a designated meeting place.
That, and try to keep your shit together when it happens.
