Me Ma turns 77 Today

Wow. We live a long time on Ma's side of the family. Our Gran lived to be 100. I moved Ma in with me a couple of years after my father died. She'd been living with our Gran, and was bored to distraction. Gran did everything, leaving Ma in the position of being a child again at the tender age of 60. That didn't last long. Ma rang me up one day to ask if the invitation to move in with me still stood, and a month later we moved into the most comically dreadful house I've ever lived in, where I found myself in the position Ma had just vacated. I gave up my routine self reliance as Ma set in to reclaim her own life. George ( our dad) had coerced her into retiring from teaching ahead of schedule--promised if she resigned he'd move her out of the hated town they were living in, but once she'd quit he denied any such agreement. She hoped to return to teaching here in Austin, but her age, mental accuity, and adherance to teaching methods long obsolete dashed her hopes. It was then that her mental health took a turn for the worse. She began spending more and more time in "autistic fantasy"--a psychiatric term meaning the world in your head is preferred to the world outside. Years of anger, disappointment and resentment bubbled to the surface in the form of whispered conversations with people long dead. Not so much conversations as diatribes. My efforts to involve the rest of the family in getting her some help were futile, and the psychiatric system I worked in was also closed to her. Boy, did those years suck. It was after my brother's death, when her own physical health began to deteriorate, that things actually improved. I found a smaller, brighter house, found healthcare professionals that would come to her (as mobility and agorophobic issues keep her housebound) just in time, as she experienced congestive heart failure later that month. Now she is taking medication, has regular visits from her doctor, and has her condition monitored daily via a specialized scale. The reactive psychosis from my brother's death (exacerbated by the CHF) has passed, and she is in better health than she was in her 60's.
Caring for an elder parent is somewhat anomolous here in the US. It seems strange to my friends-- my WASP friends, anyway. It seems obvious to me that it is the proper thing to do. Ma had a crap life , for the most part. Her marriage to my dad, her mental illness, her own family drama, all left her feeling somewhat powerless and pissed off. Never the less, I have her to thank for my liberal social values. That has to be the greatest gift I have ever received from anyone. I can trace my own courage and compassion back to the values me Ma demonstrated to me during the 60's and 70's. Happy birthday to her, with thanks.
namaste

HIV Impact on Culture pt 1: The Decriminalized Penis

In school, back in the 70's, we were shown a film version of Future Shock-- sort of a warning -"brace yourselves, things change before you are ready for them to". Happily, I can report my experience has been spread among future mild irritation and future relief.
In the relief column is the decriminalization of the penis. Growing up I often felt like I had the Medusa in my pants-- something the mere sight of would cause calamity. Tonkers were the ultimate taboo-- not to be depicted or mentioned. ( A really bizarre attitude in a male dominated society)
With the spread of HIV people were forced to think about and talk about prophylactics-- plonkers, condoms-- those thingies that go on...........a penis. With the threat of a lethal STD, we could no longer afford to be squeamish, coy, or just in denial about the male sexual apparatus.
And here we are. We have looked the penis in the.......penis, and we haven't turned to stone. Or a pillar of salt.

Happy (Pagan) New Year! with resolutions.......

Happy springtime! Io eostara! Renewal! Yipee!!!!
I am so overdue for an adjustment in my outlook. I had a look at my archives......eeeeesh! Golly, Trey, bash on about the minutiae of american culture much? What was it, burger adverts? Oh, yes, they are such a threat, someone simply must take on the terrible burden of vigilance lest the world....... you see my point. I think I've picked up a bit o' bitter in my journey, and I can't say I'm satisfied to be so. Years spent caring for an elder parent required sacrificing goals/dreams/ambitions. The years working psych have had a toll on the psyche as well.
I've made some effort to be a positive influence in my world. I use praise and encouragement
much more than criticism--I strive to be honest, direct and kind all at once. So why such ire in my writing?
For the new year ahead, I shall take a hint from H H the Dalai Lama, and take responsibility for my emotional state and outlook.
Here's to a year without venom.

A Meditation Break Through Story with ironic twist

Meditation was always one of those things I thought of as beyond my grasp-- just no way I would be able to sit still and chill for any legnth of time, and what do you mean, just be? It stumped me.
My first efforts seemed pointless, so I thought about the whole "attachment to outcome" trap, and just carried on, figuring at least it may count as good karma for the time invested. Then.... it started to happen. Oh! I see! The benefits began to emerge from theory to experience. What started out as tortuous 5 min sessions became 20, 30, and 45 minute sessions I looked forward to. Then, Edd died. My brother. Ouch. I didn't want to meditate. It was just too real. Too dangerous. Too scary. So I didn't. For a couple of years.
So, there I was, cutting myself off from myself in a big way, brooding about all sorts of crap-- like a particularly painful betrayal from a dearly beloved friend-- when it suddenly occured to me I needed to meditate. So I plop down, expecting nothing, when kablooey! I felt an amazing connection to everything--like the hot dog in the joke "one with everything". It was an amazingly groovy feeling-- like nothing I'd experienced before. Suddenly, my attention was drawn to my right forearm. I opened my eyes and saw a small insect on my skin-- looked like a flea with wings. I brushed it off, and made to continue my session. However, my attention was drawn to the spot I'd brushed the wee beastie to. I saw a large number of these exotic insects in a formation on my livingroom carpet, as they'd aparantly just emerged from the soil of one of my houseplants. All I could think of was the health and safety of my family-- unknown insects in large number-- I went right for the insecticide. Wrathful deity unto bugs. Felt quite uncomfortable about it-- downright wrong, considering the amazing experience of the connectedness of all life. So, standing there, wondering how it is I could have that experience and then do this, I had the epiphany. Ding! Sometimes people do things they believe to be wrong because they are afraid not to. For whatever reason. A neat answer to my agonizing over a friend's betrayal. Bloody weird.

Pop Culture: Litmus test of Narcissism and Cruelty? Or just Bad Taste?

Oh, goodie! The mail is here! What wonders will I find today? Oh, look! A catalog full of T-shirts! What clever slogans might they bear?
Has the wizard called you about your missing brain?
(yes, he said I could pick it up along with your missing tact)
I am always on my mind
(you really don't need a t-shirt for this--we kinda guessed already)
It was the best of times--until YOU showed up
(yeah, then I made you stop masturbating in public--you'll live)
If i'm talking, you should be taking notes
( I am--it's part of my research on the tacky and clueless. I'll tag your ear later)
Yet, despite the look on my face, you're still talking...
(ugly doesn't scare me)
If you don't have something nice to say, a blank stare usually gets the point across
(the point being "I'm inarticulate")
Caution: i'm busy formulating a withering retort
(here's my e-mail--so I'll be hearing from you in a week or two?)
I know right from wrong, but I choose to ignore it
(yeah--I was here for the election--you really DON"T have to advertise)
In my country, I'm normal
(sigh)
Dare to be average at best
(SIGH)
if you can't rise above it, sink below
(like we need encouragment to do THAT)
yeah. I've got the time. It's time for YOU to leave
( finally, we agree on something. I'll just be collecting my passport)

Nausea and Inertia

Writer's block is one thing--to just "dry up", not have anything to say. Then, there's finding yourself inarticulate with disbelief, disgust, deep sadness..... like when politicians prolong the suffering of a fellow human being in order to ingratiate themselves to religious fundamentalists with an eye to the next election. I really hate to use the word "evil", but...... I can't find an adequate synonym. The pissed off part of me wants to make unkind remarks about brain damage and republicans looking out for their own, but it would be disrespectful of the victim, and that she has become (from Merriam-Webster on line)
Pronunciation: 'vik-t&mFunction: nounEtymology: Middle English vyctym, from Latin victima; perhaps akin to Old High German wIh holy1 : a living being sacrificed to a deity or in the performance of a religious rite2 : one that is acted on and usually adversely affected by a force or agent : one that is injured, destroyed, or sacrificed under any of various conditions (2) : one that is subjected to oppression, hardship, or mistreatment

This place gets scarier all the time.

Basics

Humor: this is based in the idea of "wrongness". Wrong=funny. Wrong as in surreal,inappropriate, taboo,painful etc.
Value: this is based on beauty. Money stands for gold. Gold is valuable--why? "cuz it's pretty.
This is my theory of the cash economy. Back up enough and you wind up at "OOOH, shiney!"
There. I feel better now. Wanna see a surreal/kinda pretty vid?http://www.atomfilms.com/af/content/bob_schneider_tonight

Timing and Frustration.

Bloody buggery hell. Blocked blocked fucking blocked--brain won't put two words together with any grace. While we were having our technical woes and couldn't access the internet--full flow of ideas and words. I had SO much to say, and couldn't wait to get back to blogging. Now?
errrr........it's not that I don't have anything to write about--it's the fact that it all sounds a bit....I dunno--shite? Like there's something to be expressed, and I'm not doing it any service.
Basic topics-- how American culture is getting meaner. Lots to say about that, but where the hell do you start? I've been on a bit already about the ads on TV--subtle but telling. My brilliant but annoying buddy, Bart, made the observation that feeling inferior makes people mean (one cause among many), which led to a spirited exchange re-narcissism as a self loathing hell where the narcissist knows deep down that they are not perfect, feels they should/could be, and self punishes/projects onto others their self hatred. That makes sense. Here in the states we're a bit dim, with an embarassing lack of mastery of even one native language, no sense of geography or history, appalling taste--but we aren't completely braindead. As good as we are at lying to ourselves, denying the toxic effect our politics and practices are having on the world at large, on an animal level we know. And it makes us crazy/twitchy/agitated/mean. See? Important topic poorly written about.

Touching the Public

I had my first two sessions with the paying public tonight. Put hands on two complete strangers--both old pro's at recieving massage, as the clinic is well known to be the cheapest source of theraputic bodywork in Austin. Nervous? Oh, yes--just a bit. Almost everyone I'd worked on before this were longtime friends, and many had never recieved massage before. I'm happy to report my clients were kind and encouraging, and I'm grateful to have had such a pleasant introduction to the world of professional massage. namaste

More things to Do

Such a busy week ahead of me.........so much to accomplish! Where to begin?

1. Sue the "creators" of that new surreal children's programme, the one that's like teletubbies on animal tranks? I came up with that idea! The network turned me down, as I insisted it be called "Painful Rectal Chainsaw Death".
2. Start harvesting corneas etc from the 61% of americans who believe in creationism. With all science has shown us over the century before this one, such a position can only be indicative of braindeath. Here in killercowboyland that percentage is much higher than the national average. I had a teacher in public school try and teach a biology class that male and female skeletons could be distinguished by the "differing number of ribs". And they wondered why I would rather go to the beach?
3. Learn not to be such a judgmental whiny bastard.
4. Enjoy the latest postings from Delta--chock full of bloggy goodness and pictures of Finland in winter. brrrrrrr! http://deltaavidelta.blogspot.com/
5. Catch up with the latest Gatochy posts-- a feast as usual http://gatochy.blogspot.com/
6. Work on my Whitney voodoo doll--she must PAY for getting me addicted to that bloody badger 'toon! If you were to randomly ask me for my thoughts, odds are good they'd be along the lines of "badger badger badger badger &c...................http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/21/

What-a-Bollocks

Here we go again....................................

There is a chain of hamburger restaurants here in Texas called "Whataburger". They started out small in the '50's, and have grown steadily. For fast food, they've been rather decent;never the less, I am boycotting them due to a particularly egregious advertising campaign they've launched. Allow me to run this 30 second spot down for you:

Announcer(voice over) as two typical, marginally overweight american males sit at their table says( I paraphrase) "You know that feeling you get when you are about to enjoy your (insert product name) and you notice your buddy ordered HIS with (list optional ingredients available)? We call that "being out-what-a-burgered".
Ok, is it just me, or do you find it offensive/distasteful/just plain fucking SAD that they are making ordering fastfood into a competition? To inject envy and one-upsmanship into a shared meal for me illustrates the concept of "the banality of evil" rather literally. For fuck's sake, the first poor sad bastard in the ad looked perfectly content at first--he had, after all, ordered what he wanted to eat, and should be happy with it. It shouldn't bloody matter that his chum ordered something a touch more elaborate. Envy, greed, coveting thy neighbor's burger--people, please!
This ad not only fails to make me want their product, it makes me want to spew until I bring up mastodon steaks my ancestors ate.(sorry!)
As this chain of restaurants is limited to(mostly) Texas, I am glad that most of the world will be spared this eating-disorder inducing bit of bad taste, and disgusted that the ad agency decided to pander to the worst aspects of Texas culture.
Excuse me, I must go somewhere private and vomit out of sadness.

Back again/ Altruism vs Narcissism

Ahem......ok, this time it was a defective modem. The techno gods are pissed, maybe? Perhaps my postings have been a bit self reflective of late? Let's try for a bit of a rant, then.......
Some people discount the existence of altruism--claim that it's actually self interest, survival of common genes, yadda yadda blah blah-- what bollocks! I must admit, the only folks I've ever heard present that argument to me have been rather flagrantly narcissistic. Makes sense--if one percieves themselves as superior, and is presented/confronted with a virtue they lack, simply deny the existence of said virtue and carry on feeling superior--even more so now for not being duped into believing a fallacy. As I said before, what utter bollocks. I had an uncle I never met--he died in Korea a decade before I was born. On thanksgiving day 1950 he saved members of his platoon from a grenade by diving on it. Blew himself to shreds--his remains were recovered just 3 years ago. Wasn't related to anyone in his platoon, and didn't hesitate to give his life for his comrades. This kind of noble idiocy runs rampant on me Ma's side. On Da's side--well, golly. He was a narcissistic bully who avoided military service during the 2nd world war with a trumped up medical deferment. He detested the memory of my uncle-- it was hard being a coward with the spectre of a hero hanging over.
Maybe this is an american phenominon. Living in such a competitive/uncooperative society doesn't exactly foster fellow feeling. We still cling to the bullshit image of the maverick loner, cutting a slice of destiny with his mighty ego. We're like hermit crabs in a way, scuttling from fad to fad, adopting new personae as soon as they roll off the assembly line. But that's something else to rant about--later.
Props to blogging greats abroad--namaste