My Christmas Conundrum

Sometimes a worm ain't the only thing at the bottom of a tequila bottle.  What do you figure the over/under would be on how many drinks you'd have to get into Joseph of Nazareth before he admitted that he was pretty pissed about being God's cuckold?  I mean, as far as being a cuckold goes ... being one to God is pretty much as good as it gets, but he couldn't have been 100% thrilled about the situation, right?  Yeah, the Bible talks about him balking and deciding to divorce her quietly; that is, until he is strong-armed into staying with her by an Angel of the Lord.  I know he gets a lot of credit for being a stand-up guy and all, but it kinda makes me wonder if the Angel said "Don't be afraid to marry her," or if he really said, "Be afraid not to marry her."

Maybe this is all heresy and I'm going to Hell for it ... but these are the things I think about now when I listen to Christmas carols ...

Space Out

Dissociation is augustly defined by Wikipedia as "an altered state of consciousness characterized by partial or complete disruption of the normal integration of a person’s normal conscious or psychological functioning." While that might not sound like a ton of fun to you at first blush, and in a clinical context can indicate significant trauma, an altered state of consciousness is the place from which most great art is born. Not necessarily chemically induced, in a state of what I like to call 'constructive dissociation,' artists are able to tap into the depths of their own psyche and retrieve material that connects to a wide audience on a deep emotional level. I heard an interview with the guy who plays lead for Springsteen one time, talking about what its like to engage in a dissociative experience playing in front of tens of thousands of people. Paraphrasing, Lofgren said that during a concert he had the experience of looking down at his hands playing a riff and struggled to convince himself that he had to keep playing the guitar because he felt like if he stopped his hands would continue to play all on their own. He was completely clean and sober, and entirely lost in the music in an altered state of consciousness. The host of the interview rightly elaborated that people chase a similar experience taking drugs, having sex, playing sports or any other myriad pursuits; we are looking for the chance to loose ourselves in an experience, to stop thinking and start being.

For me, one of the most important revelations of the past year has been a change in my Myers-Briggs personality type from ESTP to ENTP, meaning I have moved from weighing data and observables to trusting my 'gut feelings.' This is likely somewhat the result of me practicing psychotherapy for the past several years, but is also at least somewhat associated with me re-discovering who I am and moving past what other people have told me I am.¹ One of the ways that I really enjoy getting lost in my intuitive nature and 'constructively dissociating' is fighting. Boxing doesn't leave time for evaluation or weighing alternatives, for me it is a visceral and thoroughly enjoyable dissociative experience in which I am not thinking about anything at all and am simply present. Very Zen. I encourage you to find that thing for you, and do it as often as possible. Hopefully for you, it doesn't involve pugilism.

¹ I realize that's a somewhat loaded statement, just not one I want to unpack in this blog post. Maybe next week ....

The Ugly Truth

Sometimes I get weird ideas, and Saturday was one of those times. Washing dishes, a truth which has been self evident for most of my life revealed itself to me. In the words of Smee ... "I think I just had an apostrophe." As a child of the 80's I've grown up hook-line-and-sinker accepting the Disney story lines. This Saturday, though, while listening to my 'Show Tunes' Pandora station, I realized that maybe there was more to the story or Beauty and the Beast than met the eye.

Belle's own collection of quirks aside (scroll to #4), her two legitimate suitors in the movie are 1: A megalomaniac who excels at myriad pursuits and is universally revered in town and 2: A ... well ... an illiterate reclusive megalomaniac surrounded by traumatized servants quaking in fear of him and who was cursed because of said megalomania into what can best be described as a bipedal feral lhasa apso. With horns.

Now I'm not saying that Gaston wasn't a douche; he clearly was. All I'm saying is, The Beast clearly was as well. When stuck with two terrible choices, why are we being asked by Disney to applaud Belle for choosing either of them? The more I think about it the more the story seems to promulgate the mephitic belief that if you love your abusive significant other long enough and well enough they will eventually melt into a gooey tub of love and you'll live happily ever after. Seriously, wouldn't Le Fou be a better choice for Belle at this juncture? Or a convent? Or literally anything else?

Just saying ...

Back in the Saddle

Probably the worst thing about trying to start writing again is the part where I try to come up with a justification for 1: starting again and 2: quitting in the first place. Over the past couple of months I'd found myself repeating the mantra: "I must return to writing," only to find myself several weeks later reciting the same thing without any movement and now that I'm actually sitting down at the computer to compose a masterpiece I find myself chasing my rhetorical tail trying to come up with a clever and profound way to say, "I got real busy for a while and stopped doing something I really like doing for the sake of watching tv and playing Angry Birds." I even spent about 20 minutes massaging awkward attempts to cram psychosocial theory into an introspective piece about the fear of failure and the difficulty of change, etc etc. Below are some excerpts from those attempts.¹

The reality is, though, that I just kinda stopped writing once I got done with grad school and started working. I got out of the habit, like working out and eating healthy. The only excuse I need to get back into it is: I like it. The only excuse I can think of for why I quit in the first place is: I didn't quit (which to me sounds like an active choice) so much as I just kinda ... stopped? And started doing something else. Writing for me is like one of your favorite recipes that you forget about because you've been too busy to cook for a while and you've just been eating Ramen and pb&j. I don't really need much of an excuse to starting eating the good stuff again, other than "It's good!" I just sometimes forget that it's good because I get all stacked up with other stuff, which is the best excuse I can come up with for why I stopped in the first place. There may indeed be deep-seated and menacing psychological reasons for me stopping (and, conversely, starting again) to write, but seriously. Who wants to read about that on someone's blog?

So if you made it through all of this, the cliff's notes version of the post is this: I'm going to write at least one post/week. Not because I have to but because I like to I just forgot that I like to for a while. So ... GET READY WORLD, IMMA WRITE AGAIN!!!!!

¹Writing (and by writing I just mean communicating) has been one of those things that I've always been doing. Coming back to things is hard; it can be so difficult, in fact, that it can often prevent a return at all. Few things in life are as frustrating than returning to an activity that used to come effortlessly only to find that the skill is not there anymore.Classically, Not just hard because That's why the story of the prodigal son strikes a chord, and that's why the 12 step program makes people do it. It is That's probably not the most profound statement ever made, but cliche as it might be I've found it to be one of the most true statements.