The power of play

Yup. Education again. Last one, I promise!

Mostly because I reached the end of that TED series.

And it was this :

Isn’t that bit with the polar bear and the huskies amazing? That first picture scared the hell out of me. I was sure something very bad was about to happen.

But instead, due to the power of play and the sunny if slightly clueless nature of a certain husky bitch (who presumably was eager to meet the big, weird looking white dog), it turned instead into a simply amazing and touching example of simple and natural cooperation.

Makes you feel all warm inside.

On to the talk itself. I find it sad that a man like Stuart Brown who is clearly doing important research about the nature of learning and development has trouble getting funding simply because funding agencies are stuffy stick in the mud old fogies afraid of what their peers will say if they fund research about something that seems (on the surface) silly, like play.

The talk is from 2008, though, so there is a distinct possibility that the publicity attracted by being a TED speaker and the implicit endorsement of being accepted there has overcome this absurd reluctance on the part of funding bodies and gotten him the backing he so richly deserves.

Anyhow, the aspect of the talk I wish to discuss is this notion of play deprivation and its effects on an individual. And, because I’m neurotic and self-absorbed, I’m going to talk about it in relation to myself.

I was severely play deprived as a child. That is clear. Not for my whole childhood, mind you. I had friends and played with them when I was very very small. Tricia from next door and Janet from across the street. We jumped rope, played hopscotch, played freeze tag, and so on.

OK, so it wasn’t the most butch start in life, but it was at least social.

But they were a year older than me, and that combined with the fact that I never went to kindergarten meant that after they went to school, I was alone at home with the babysitter and had nobody my age to play with at all.

And that was the start of it. I played by myself from then on, via books and television and video games. My complete lack of social skills from lack of social play isolated me from my peers once I went to school. My lack of rough and tumble play made me timid and fearful.

Who knows how my life might have been different if I had gone to kindergarten?

Most of the time, the only one I had to play with was my older brother, and I treasure all the time we spent watching music videos together, playing video games and board games together, and just generally hanging out and being silly.

But that is not the same as socially playing with people your own age, and I had tragically little of that as a child. Even when I did have friends, they tended to abuse me, or at least that is how it seemed at the time. Perhaps they were just trying to initiate rough-house play.

And that ship had, sadly, already sailed for me.

Instead, I spent a lot of time alone, and I think that accounts for how I became so overdeveloped in certain areas like abstract reasoning and so woefully underdeveloped in other area like social skills.

And I am not complaining, exactly. I am not at all sure that I would sacrifice any portion of my considerable mental horsepower in order to be better socially skilled. I know that nothing should be more important than happiness and better social skills would make me a lot happier because I would feel more secure and less vulnerable in the world, and be more open to new social experiences.

It might even banish the overwhelming fear that has been a constant in my life ever since I was a bullied little kid terrified of his peers. The fear of others, the terror of people, the pervasive sense of never, ever being safe, the fear of the unknown… all could go away with proper socialization.

But I still would not trade away my brain power for it. As much as it has been more of a burden than a gift in my life and no matter that it isolated me from others my age throughout my childhood, this big bloated brain of mine is all I have to give this world, and I would not trade any of it away.

Not that this is a likely scenario. I am sure it is possible to be perfectly socially well adjusted and still be a genius.

Not likely, perhaps. But possible!

And it is not like if I learned to socialize better, I would instantly become stupider. Life is not so zero sum as all that. I already have the bloated brain. Learning proper social skills and becoming properly socialized at this point would not take that away.

And it is nto like I have no social life either. Granted, I still spend a lot of time alone, playing video games and browsing the Web and whatnot.

But I have three awesome friends with whom I eat out, hang out, chat, watch videos, and in general be silly and relaxed and have fun.

I am still pretty scared of the world outside this cozy little cloister of mine, but compared to how badly off I was when I lived alone, I am light years more sane and social now.

As for the rest, well, these things will come with time. I can’t rush it, force it, control it, or predict it, and trying to do any of those things will only suppress the process.

The best I can do is provide myself with as many of the conditions for growth as possible, and then get the hell out of the way.

What do you know… this turned out to be a diary entry anyhow!

The snobbery of teachers

Yup. You guessed it. I am going to link to a TED talk then talk about education.

This is a particularly wonderful speaker named Sir Ken Robinson, and he calls for a revolution.

Isn’t he delightful? Charming, funny, self-effacing, and adorably British.

Oh, and wise. Very very wise.

And I agree with him. A revolution in education is needed. I have resisted the word revolution for a long time due to my inherent bias towards the moderate, and instead have called myself a reformer.

But there comes a time when you have to take a good hard look at your plans for the world and realize that, whether or not you think of them as revolutionary, everybody else will.

There is only so far you can reform something before it becomes, and requires, a de facto revolution. So be it. Call me a reluctant revolutionary.

Before I get into the meat of what I plan to discuss tonight, I just have to note that amazing quote about the folly of linear education : “A three year old is not half of a six year old”.

When I heard that, it felt like the top of my skull flew off, that’s how much it blew my mind. That is such a perfect way of putting it that I feel like it should be written above the doors of every school and across the ceiling of every schoolroom.

But what I really want to talk about tonight stems from his story about the fireman who was humiliated by his teacher for wanting to be a fireman, and told that it would be “throwing his life away” to pursue that choice of career.

When I heard that, I suddenly realized that the entire school system is geared towards creating and catering to exactly one kind of person, those proficient in the forms of abstract reasoning that we have chosen to call “intelligence”.

Everything else is given short shrift. The teachers are all academically gifted people who went to college and got degrees, and they rather myopically think that this is the only truly worthy path, and that anything else is, as best, a consolation prize for those who are not quite good enough, and at worse, suitable only for worthless people with poor grades doomed to the horrors of working in “the trades”.

The firefighter story illustrates this perfectly. There are few more noble callings in the world than that of the firefighter, but purely because it does not require a college education, that evil-minded teacher told a young person full of hope that this was just plain not good enough.

And how do teachers rate themselves? And how do schools rate teachers? By how many of their students go on to college. That is the ultimate goal of all education, it seems. Feeding students into the college system as fast as we can.

This despite the fact that everybody knows that degrees are increasingly worst than worthless, because they do not get you a job but they do get you into a massive amount of debt.

That is bad enough, but what is worse is the way the whole system turns up its nose at anything that does not lead to or require a college degree.

The sort of abstract reasoning abilities that I and others possess that makes us, in the current system “academically gifted” is just one form of intelligence. There are many others, and they are all just as valid and just as meaningful to society, if not more so.

After all, it could be argued that a full trained and licensed plumber is of more use to society than yet another minimum wage worker with a Bachelor of Arts in English.

Clearly, there is intense snobbery of an aristocratic (almost Platonic) mien embedded very deeply in the education system widely used in the modern world today. Careers that involve working with your mind are encouraged. Ones that involve working with your hands are frowned upon.

The result : a system that tells the (at least) two-thirds of its student who are not blessed with a natural flair for memory and abstract reasoning that people like me possess that they are worthless and unimportant and not worth spending time and effort on.

And I have seen this in action. Teachers like dealing with the gifted kids because we are more like them and they can relate to us. Fine. But we are not the only ones getting the message. One heavy sigh before dealing with a struggling student can crush a child’s spirit for life. One look of apprehension and fear in a teacher’s eyes when she looks upon the rougher looking students tells them all they need to know about how society views them.

And don’t think the average and struggling kids do not notice how the teacher lights right up when they are dealing with the bright kids. Suddenly it’s all smiles, kindness, and patience. What do the other kids get? Frowns, defensiveness, and dismissiveness.

We fool ourselves into thinking that we are a classless society because the classes are no longer enforced by law or custom.

But the real lesson in class happens in the classroom. That is when kids are told what they are worth, and where they belong. Where they sit in the pecking order of life.

And all because we are all caught up in this antiquated idea that getting into college for a child is success and all else is failure.

As Sir Ken says, college is not for everyone. For many people, like I said, college turns out to be worse than useless, and it can truly be said that they would have been far better off going to a vocational school that taught them exactly what they needed to know for the career they have chosen, and saved a lot of time, energy, and money.

Part of our revolution in education has to be a concentrated and serious effort to wipe this kind of snobbery out of the education system.

A teacher should be just as happy that a student went on to be a plumber (or a firefighter) or even just manager of a 7-11, if that is what makes them happy.

That should be the only metric for educational success : happiness.

Now isn’t that a revolutionary thought?

By the numbers

Another day, another education-themed TED talk.

And this time, it’s all about math!

This Conrad Wolfram fellow thinks we put too much emphasis on teaching kids to do math by hand when what is truly important is to teach them mathematical thinking skills.

After all, he says, computers can handle the calculation part quite well. Calculating by hand has been obsolete since the advent of the pocket calculator. There is no point in teaching kids an ancient technique left over from the days when solving by hand was your only option and knowing basic mathematics was actually a very valuable job skill, one that could, in fact, make a whole career as a clerk.

Obviously, those days are long gone, and the argument can be made that calculating via the old paper and pencil method is a useless skill in these days when you can get a calculator at a dollar store that can handle all the addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division that you will ever need.

Not only that, but every cell phone is a calculator, as is every desktop computer, laptop, tablet computer, and so on.

The odds of you being in a situation where there are no computers around to do the calculating are diminishingly small. So why teach kids to do things the old way?

And when I look back at my own mathematical education, I have to wonder myself. The idea that I did not do anything but the most basic algebra until Grade 10 strongly suggests that we are spending a hell of a lot of money and time teaching kids calculation when they could be learning real math.

It makes me wonder what the heck we were doing in the years between Grade Five, when we learned long divison, and Grade Ten. What is there to learn between those two?

So in Conrad’s world, you would get a calculator in first grade, and right away, the teacher could be teaching you what is happening when you press buttons on it and what the number you get as a result means.

Potential problem : it might well turn out that no matter whether they are using calculators or not, kids before a certain level of cognitive development just plain cannot understand the concepts we would like to start teaching them that early.

I am not saying that would definitely be true. And if it was true at first, a diligent educator could develop a different teaching method for mathematical concepts that takes their level of cognitive development into account.

I am picturing teaching Grade 3 students basic algebra using pictures of animals for the variables. “Now children, solve for Frog. ”

Now I know that the idea that we could start teaching algebra in Grade Three will strike a lot of people as absurd, unrealistic, and perhaps even dangerous.

But if you take learning pencil and paper math out of the equation, what is left? And who knows, maybe if we learned algebra in elementary school, it would be a lot less painful for people.

And speaking of algebra, I am not exactly sure how you could teach that without using pencil and paper. I have tried doing algebra on a computer and it is a serious pain in the ass. The paper method is way simpler and easier. Maybe that is just because that is how I was taught to do it, though.

But having third grade students doing algebra is not my most pressing concern when it comes to math education. Wolfram hints at what I am looking for when he talks about people learning mathematical reasoning and hits it on the head when he talk about teaching people that they can attack a seemingly impossible mathematical question and, through applying the tools they have learned and a little creativity and forehead sweat, slay the beast and solve the problem.

For a long time now, I have been pondering why some people are comfortable with math and why others view numbers with fear and suspicion. Like it or not, math impacts people’s lives, and not just in the ways Wolfram mentions like figuring out if a statistic is bullshit or not.

Where math becomes vital is in the realm of money and finance. Everyone has to think about money in their life, and money runs on math. If you are not comfortable handling numbers, you cannot possibly figure out a budget and stick to it, let alone plan your retirement or avoid being scammed by financial hucksters who are counting on your unwillingness to deal with the quantitative world in order to rip you off.

So I am far less interested in teaching people calculus in middle school than I am in changing the way we teach math so that more people feel comfortable dealing with numbers and hence make themselves less likely to be victimized and bamboozled by people who just happen to be slightly more comfortable with math than they are, or at least can pretend to be.

In practical terms, most of us will never use anything beyond basic algebra. It is entirely reasonable to limit mathematical education for the average student to just the things they will have a practical use for in their adult lives, and leave the more advanced stuff as optional, for the kids with a genuine interest in math or in subjects where more advanced math will be needed.

I know that is blatant heresy to math teachers, who secretly think math is the greatest thing in the world and that everyone should be like them and love it for it’s own sake, and if they do not, they should be punished for it.

But I think that if we just relax our preconceived notions and look at math from a different perspective, one where it is treated like a fun game or as a useful skill, we might find that we can find all kinds of things to teach the kiddies that we would never have even glimpsed if we had stayed on the same old path.

I think math can be a lot more than what we teach today.

I think it can be a wonderful and powerful tool for understanding your world.

But it will never be that if we do not learn to teach it the right way.

What you can learn from Khan

What can you learn from Khan?

Turns out, damned near anything.

First, let’s get this out of the way. I am not talking about this guy :

Nor am I talking about this guy :

No, I am talking about Salman Khan, otherwise known as this guy :

I just watched that Ted talk recently, and it really has my mind abuzz with thoughts about education.

For a long long time, I have thought we do education wrong. We strap our kids down and force-feed knowledge to children like it is a bitter pill they absolutely must swallow, and then regurgitate, and then wonder why kids hate school, hate reading, hate learning, and hate their teachers.

Children inherently want to learn. Everything they do as play is a result of this instinct to learn, explore, and understand. They are born insatiably curious, and it only by diligent long-term torture that we beat that out of most of them.

Our model of education has not changed since the dawn of the Industrial Revolution, and it is very much an assembly-line model. Get the kids into one place, give them the information, ring a bill, everyone goes to the next information station, and at the end of work periods, quality assessment.

But children are not machines. The mind of a child is not some kind of tabula rasa just waiting for us to write on.

Children are living breathing human beings who desperately want to learn how the world works, but want to do it in an active and interactive manner that can accommodate all the different learning styles. Individualized learning is what is called for, and yet, teachers say they just don’t have the time.

Enter Salman Khan. His idea of education is remarkably like the one I have had since I formulated it way back in my college days when dinosaurs walked the earth and I took a course called the Philosophy of Education at UPEI.

But what he adds to the picture is this notion of “flipping the classroom”. That means that watching a Khan lecture on a subject is not the lecture, it’s the homework. All the kids show up to school having already has the lecture on the subject, and at their own pace, with as much backtracking and rewinding and looking things up as necessary to boot.

This frees up the teacher to spend all the class time actually helping the kids do the thing they have been taught. The teacher can circulate in the classroom and see who is struggling, and offer them help when they need it, but otherwise leave the kids to figure it out either by themselves or with the help of their friends.

For a long time, I have thought that our ancient model of education reduces the role of the teach to basically being a piece of audio-visual equipment. They are just there to broadcast the curriculum at the students and then test them on it. Helping them learn it and do it is a luxury squeezed in between lectures. For the most part, they just there to lecture.

And here’s the thing : lecturing is actually the least important part of education. It is the part of the job that is the most menial, repetitive, and unpleasant for both teacher and student.

Teachers hate repeating the same things year after year, and students hate being forced to sit still and do nothing but listen for hours on end. Nobody is happy. And yet we put up with it because it is “normal” so we do not even think about it.

But if you automate the lecturing, suddenly the teachers are free to truly teach, and the individualized learning model is not just possible but preferable.

Full disclosure mode : Admittedly, I would have thrived in a system like that. I was ridiculously bright and learned extremely fast. If I could have done the learning and testing on my own, I would have zoomed through my education at light speed, instead of spending 90 percent of class time bored out of my mind and wishing I was anywhere else.

Heck, I would have found work that actually challenged me. Imagine that.

But I also think all the other kids would have benefited from that kind of education as well. The slow kids would have gotten tons more teacher time to help them get through the rough parts. The bright kids like me would have been happy to zoom along on our own most of the time. And the average kids would greatly benefit from a system that lets them learn at their own speed and in their own way.

The great thing about a system like that is that it rewards curiosity and initiative, and thus harnesses children’s inherent curiosity and enthusiasm instead of punishing it like out current system does.

It’s a little like food. The child can always have more when they want more, and stop when they are full and need to digest what they have just eaten.

And if they get indigestion from something, they can always go to the teach for…. um, nevermind. That metaphor is best ended right there.

I hope that these experimental programs scattered hither and yon that use the Khan “flipped classroom” approach will inspire an entire educational reform movement that sweeps the world and finally puts an end to this terrible, outdated, inefficient, inhuman, inhumane, and above all wrong system we have all over the world now.

Don’t get me wrong. Even out current broken-down system of education is far better than no education at all. And I am most vehemently not saying that we should replace all teachers with computer monitors.

But the history of human technological progress has been a story of people coming up with ways to automate the part of the task that is most menial and repetitive and that takes the least amount of intelligence, and thus freeing up human potential to focus on the higher order parts of the task,.

There is no reason why we cannot do this for education with the technology of today.

Friday Science Thrombosis, April 26, 2013

Hey there all you bright little stars twinkling in the vast dark firmament of science! Time for another edition of your favorite science roundup, the Friday Science Whatever.

I am afraid I might not be shining so bright myself this week. I am feeling under the weather, and so you will have to forgive me if I don’t quite scintillate quite like I usually do.

Still, science marches on, and so do we. On with the show!

First off, I have a bit of science-ish content to share. It is, in fact, one of those marvelous moments when history and technology combine to create a window to the past.

Every schoolkid knows that Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. But how many of us know what the man actually sounded like?

Until recently, absolutely nobody alive had heard his voice. But thanks to the discovery of a wax cylinder with his voice on it, and the miracle of lasers that can read the cylinder without harming it, we now have a sample of the great man’s voice.

The quality is, of course, atrocious, and so it is not quite like being there in the room with him. But it is like hearing his recording on the equipment for which it was designed, and that is also good.

As the article says, you can clearly hear the strict elocution in his voice. Makes him sound very prim and fussy, doesn’t it? Bell’s father was an elocution teacher, a job that has disappeared off the face of the planet these days, and good riddance.

All they did was make someone sound like a right git. Evidently, these people thought there was no such thing as OVER-pronouncing a word. Consequently, they pronounced the hell out of every word.

Give me the natural flow of speech every day. There is a happy middle ground between mumbling and elocuting, one where the speech is perfectly understandable but does not make one sound like they are speaking each word as a result of heavy torture.

That aside, well, aside, I absolutely love anything that makes me feel like I am traveling to a previous era. If you are keen on hearing history, there is an extensive collection of historical recordings, including many retrieved from the days of the wax cylinder, on that marvelous repository of manifold wonders, archive.org.

Sticking with amazing audio, let us turn to this fascinating story of a rare breed of monkey that may well give us a vital clue towards understanding how we human beings developed speech.

Most monkeys have a lip-smacking sound as part of their primitive primate vocabulary. Many of the higher monkeys have elaborated that into the ability to make very crude, grunting one or two syllable ‘words’.

But grunts, despite what Tim Allen says, are not speech. So how did we get to where we are today?

Enter the gelada, a monkey species closely related to baboons. They live exclusively in the highlands of Ethiopia, and they have taken lip-smacking vocalizations to a whole new level.

Here is an example. Warning, this is beyond freaky.

Weird, huh? It makes you want to look around for the human being making those silly noises. If it wasn’t for the science backing this up to the hilt, I would be tempted to call shenanigans and say someone just took human vocalizations and overdubbed them onto gelada footage.

You have to admit, that sounds a lot like speech. And tellingly, the geladas use these vocalizations not just as warning sounds or to convey information, but to socialize as well.

It reminds me of the nonsense sounds that human children make when they are at the developmental stage in between merely babbling and actual speech.

Makes me wonder how closely we are related, genetically speaking, to the gelada.

Next up, we have a great example of science fiction becoming reality in this story about the discovery of what might well be “water worlds”. ”

No, not Waterworld… water worlds. Worlds entirely covered by water. No land atoll at all.

That is seriously something that I thought was pure sci fi BS. A world entirely covered in water? Not even a tiny bit of land? Come on. You could never have an ecosystem that simple. And what about geology? How would a planet be warm enough to keep water liquid without heat from the core? And if there is heat from the core, surely there is enough tectonic activity to produce volcanic islands.

But as it turns out, water worlds are a real possibility, and so we can go ahead and imagine a single enormous globe-spanning marine ecosystem producing a variety of sea life that would dwarf what we have here on Earth, with all that land getting in the way.

Remember, where there’s water, there’s life!

And finally, in the pole position, we have this intriguing item about a possible vaccine for autism.

Or rather, against one of the main physiological symptoms of autism, namely the proliferation of a specific kind of gut bacteria found in abundance in autistic people.

Researchers at the University of Guelph (go Canada!) have devised a vaccine to combat the high levels of this gut bacteria, which at the very least should help autistic people with their chronic gastrointestinal
issues such as diarrhea.

But there is a more extraordinary possibility :

Some researchers believe toxins and/or metabolites produced by gut bacteria, including C. bolteae, may be associated with symptoms and severity of autism, especially regressive autism.

Granted, this is only a hypothesis and one far from proven, but it would be quite amazing to discover that this massive increase in cases of autism we are seeing could be stopped with just a simple vaccine.

Imagine a future without autism! No more children and adults trapped in their own cold and lonely worlds.

Well, that;s it for this week folks! Hope you enjoyed reading about these stories at least half as much as I enjoyed writing about them.

See you next week!

Another way to look at things

Not really sure what to write about today.

Oh right, this is supposed to be a diary at least part of the time.

I will tell you what happened to me today, then. Brace yourself, because you will barely be able to contain your excitement : I went to see the optometrist!

I had not been to see one for at least five years, maybe more, which is very naughty of me. Just as a person with glasses, I should go every other year.

But as a diabetic, I should be going at least once a year, preferably twice. Diabetes can do very nasty things to your eyes, and they can sneak up on you, so I should not have left it so long.

As it was, I only went because my eyes have been getting really, really tired lately and I was worried that this meant that my eyes were growing weaker with age and I needed a stronger prescription.

So I set my browser to stun find me an optometrist who was close to me and was not Pacific Eye Doctors.

Pacific Eye Doctors are the people who sold me my current glasses and the last people to do a comprehensive eye exam on me, and I had a very bad experience there. The two ladies in charge were very patronizing and condescending to me once, specifically after they found out I was on social assistance.

The female optometrist really talked down to me like I was some kind of delicate idiot. Her associate, the one who did the selling of the glasses and frames bit, did not know her product at all, and when she found out I was on social assistance, she heaved a big sigh and said “I guess we probably have something for you in the back… ” then disconsolately went into the back and came back and dropped a plastic container with a bunch of frames in it in front of me and said “I guess these are the ones you can have” like I was asking her for a handout and she was very reluctantly giving me one.

Women are merciless to losers.

So I swore I would never ever ever set foot in that goddamned place again. This time, I let my virtual fingers do the walking and found a place not too far from here called The Eye Station (what a boring name!) and made an appointment with them for 10:30 am, this morning.

I chose this week and this day because my therapist is away this week. Normally I have an appointment with my shrink every Thursday at 9 am, but this week, he’s off. So it made sense to make the appointment near the usual time. Just swap one kind of medical appointment for another.

Joe drove me to the place, and the first thing that happened was I got some very bad news. Apparently, the province only pays for half of the examination fee now (thanks, Liberals!) and so I had to shell out $40 for the appointment.

I was so proud and happy that I still had $33 left from last month when I cashed this month’s check, and that wiped it out right then and there. Fuck.

Hell, I am down 7 bucks. It really feels like the Universe is conspiring to make sure I never, ever get ahead in life.

Oh well, my birthday (the big 4 0) is next month on the 19th, so I will get some money then.

Anyhow, financial disaster aside, everything went fairly smoothly. There was the usual Three Degrees of waiting for any doctor :

1) Waiting in the waiting room
2) Waiting in the examination room
and 3) Actually seeing the doctor.

But I am fairly used to that, although for the life of me, I never can remember to bring along something to read. That would make the time go faster.

The optometrist was quite pleasant and smoothly efficient, which I appreciated. If I had to choose between aloof and efficient and friendly but sloppy, I will take aloof and efficient every time.

After all, this is my optometrist, not my therapist. I am not looking to make friends with him. I want to know if diabetes is destroying my eyes!

I’m always friendly, mind you, and polite. Anyhow.

So, no diabetes eye rot, or as it’s properly known, diabetic retinopathy.

Feel free to read the Wiki article. I will not. I read the first paragraph and it was freaking me out. My dormant hypochondria does not need that kind of fuel.

All I need to know is : I don’t have it. Yay!

And no other stuff either. The optometrist told me that my eyes seems fine but that if I wanted to cut down on the eye strain, he could prescribe some anti-fatigue lenses for me.

That sounds like awesomeness to me. I will probably have my new glasses by this time next week. With new frames and everything. The new frames will even be “easy clip” compatible, meaning I can get those magnetic clip-on sunglasses glasses if I want.

What I really want is some sort of anti-glare filter. I don’t have trouble in the summer with overall brightness but glare off shiny things can really fuck me up. For some reason, my eyes just don’t recover from being dazzled by glare as fast as is the norm.

So if I could get some polarized anti-glare clip-ons, that would be kickass.

Oh, and speaking of glare, of course the optometrist had to give me the “instant stoner” pupil dilating eye drops. They burned like a bitch for about ten seconds afterwards, too. Ouch.

After that, though, like every other time I have done the EYES WIDE OPEN business, nothing looked very different at all…. until I stepped outside into the sunlight.

Then things were VERY VERY BRIGHT. It was a good thing I had Joe to drive me home. Negotiating the bus system when the only safe places for your eyes are down on the ground or up in the sky would be neither easy nor fun.

Thus endeth my optical adventures.

But remember kids, tomorrow is… SCIENCE!

My Aunt Eleanor called

I got a phone call from my Aunt Eleanor on Monday, and today, I decided I needed to write about it.

Now don’t flip, I didn’t get horrible news or anything. Relax. Breathe deep. Go to your happy place.

All better? Good.

This phone call was quite unusual for a couple of reasons. First of all, I do not know my Aunt Eleanor at all. I have been told I met her once, but I was so young at the time that I have no memory of it as an adult.

I have a very vague memory of a nice lady with a big car? Maybe it was her? Maybe not.

Anyhow, she is my father’s sister, but while I have met my father’s other siblings when I was fifteen and so have fairly clear ideas of who they are, Eleanor has always been a mystery to me.

So having her call me up out of the blue was unusual to say the least. She had been trying to get me on the phone all weekend, but I was always either asleep or out of the house.

It was Monday when she finally called when I was on the computer. And we had a very pleasant conversation. She seems like a sweet person. She asked me a bunch of questions about myself, which I always appreciate because it shows the person is interested in me.

I know for some people, being asked a bunch of questions about their lives would make them very uncomfortable, or even downright hostile, but I am a pretty open person. I do not keep a lot of things secret and I certainly don’t act like I feel every piece of information is strictly “need to know”.

One thing I learned from our conversation came from when she asked me about what I get up to, and I told her that I suffered from depression.

She said that she was not surprised because her mother, my grandmother, was in and out of mental institutions all her life.

I had no idea this was true, and it certainly sheds a lot of light on my situation. I had wondered where the mental illness came from in my family. Now I know.

Lucky me, huh?

I am not surprised to find out she was in and out of the loony bin though. My father’s father, my grandfather, was, as I have mentioned before, Satan. He was a sociopathic compulsive liar who beat his wife and kids and quite possibly molested them too. I know he molested other kids, and used to ask my sisters all kinds of creepy questions.

So yeah. Horrible, horrible person. Glad he’s dead. Rot in hell. It’s a wonder that any of his children became functional adults at all. They must be a resilient breed. Or maybe their mother was a good influence on them when she was around.

My god… I just realized. If she was in the mental ward, that means the kids were alone with him. What a horrible thought.

Its things like this that make me almost forgive my own Dad for being such an asshole. Almost… but not quite. There is relative sanity and then there is getting the job done right. He did not.

Anyhow, after this pleasant conversation with a nice older lady, I was talking with some friends online when I had one of those rare moments when I learn something about myself by telling it to someone else.

I mentioned that I had gotten a phone call from my long lost Aunt Eleanor. Someone said “Lost?” so I explained all about how I did not really know her at all, so she was lost to me.

Someone else said “And this is a good thing?”, presumably thinking of some of their own relatives who they would gladly lose.

So I said “Well yeah. I am trying to open myself up more to nice people who mean me well. ”

And then it hit me like a splash of enlightenment across the brain. I am trying to do that, and what’s more, why haven’t I done this before?

I have walled myself up in my own little world for so long that I did not even realize that there are people out there who love me and want me to do well.

Or rather, I didn’t feel it. And I have to ask myself, why? Why couldn’t I feel their love?

Well, to cut myself some slack here, the main reason is probably simply that my brain chemistry was too messed up for anything like that to get through.

Depression isolates you not only by making it hard to be around others without your anxieties going crazy and making it so that social contact is downright painful, it also makes you incapable of feeling the positive emotions that people all around you are desperately beaming your way.

And that convinces you that, despite all the evidence, nobody cares about you. Not really. Not enough. After all, if they really cared, you would feel it, right? So they must be doing something wrong. They don’t love you right.

And from there, it is easy to build a whole worldview based on that. A world which is cold and callous and brutal and uncaring and unfair and hostile to people like you.

But having your hand fall asleep does not actually make the world a place covered in pins and needles. Your hand has changed, not the world.

And so having your positive emotions fall asleep due to depression does not mean the world is cold and devoid of all hope and pleasure.

It just means that you can’t feel them for now.

But more than just the biochemical problem, I think that I have walled myself off from the world in order to protect myself for a long long time, and for what seems wildly insufficient reasons to me now.

So what if I don’t have a lot in common with a lot of people? So what if I tend to be on a mental plane of my own? That should not keep me from accepting the love and caring of others. It does not mean that by not understanding me, they are rejecting me. It does not mean there is something wrong with them, or with me.

It just means we are different. I am an odd duck, true. But that should not keep me from opening my heart to the caring of nice people who mean me well.

It’s not all good news. It makes me realize just how cold and distant I must have seemed to people behind my thick emotional wall. And I really regret that.

But today is a new day, and there will even be another tomorrow. I can learn to open myself up and feel what has always been there on the other side of all that taiga and tundra in my soul.

Sure, I might also get hurt.

But I would rather skin my knee a dozen times than chop off my legs!

Head in the sand

I don’t feel that great today.

That restless and irritable feeling is back. I just don’t feel like living my life right now. I feel like doing anything but, to be honest.

And so I have been taking refuge in sleep. Naughty naughty! I have been trying to avoid doing that. It is a bad habit that only hurts me in the long run.

But it is the easiest and safest thing to do when I just cannot deal.

Oh well, at least I am aware that I am doing that now. Both before and after I do it. I am choosing to sleep the day away and fast-forward my life, with eyes wide open (so to speak) and with full intent.

I had a disturbing moment earlier. I was watching something on TV in which an old man falls asleep while waiting in his doctor’s waiting room.

And I found myself thinking “Gee, that must be nice, to be able to go to sleep at any time, anywhere you are, no matter what. ”

Then suddenly I froze that thought in place and examined it with horrified fascination. Why on Earth would I want that? That actually sounds very bad. If I had that ability, I would probably sleep everywhere and barely stay awake at all. That’s the last thing I need.

So I forced myself to really look at that sentiment so I could find its root. What exactly was it that appealed to me about that thought, at heart?

I think it was the idea of never being very far from the soft and comfortable escape of sleep. The notion of being able to fall asleep anywhere, any time is really the notion of never having to be fully awake. And I have been living life half asleep as a way to (fail to) cope with my emotional problems and my dissatisfaction with my life in general for a long long time.

Having sleep always right there when and where you want it would just be a further extension of always having my bed less than a yard away from me. Sleep as an easy to reach safety blanket that takes all my troubles away and gets me closer to the next interesting thing to happen in my life, which more often than note is a meal.

And all without having to somehow make it through the lonely, anxious hours in between.

Of course, that means I have been sleeping through my life. No wonder it feels like 40 is barreling down at me far faster than it should. It is! I am deliberately bringing it closer with every nap.

And I want to stop doing it. I will not learn who I truly am, or heal my deepest problems, if I just go to sleep whenever things get rough, and avoid situations where sleep is not an option, which is, quite frankly, most of them.

Sad to think that I am that addicted to sleep. It is arguably my primary coping mechanism. I actually find myself getting tenser the longer I have gone without a nap, especially if I lack something at hand into which I can pour all my energies. Like the Internet.

Hello, Internet! I love you, you bitch goddess you.

This is clearly the wrong way to go through life, and if I am going to get anywhere against this vast reservoir of shame and fear and anger that is holding me back and holding me down if I do not force myself to deal with it.

Oh well. There is an OA meeting tonight and I am going (no really, I am!), and that is an excellent exercise in leaving my comfort zone entirely and dealing with the real world.

For an hour and a half. Oh well, it’s a start.

Another depressing but useful realization : the happiest parts of every day are when I am eating.

This realization has been hovering around in my brain for a long time, never quite making it into consciousness because it represented a truth I did not want to face.

And even when it did manage to make it into my conscious mind, I quickly buried it again. But this time, I am bring out into the light and giving it a damn good look.

Given my massive obesity, this should not exactly come as a surprise. If eating did not make me happy, I would probably be skinny. Or at least normal.

But there is a lot of difference between “eating makes me happy” and “I am literally happiest when eating”. It is the difference between being an enthusiast and an addict.

And being an addict is never a good thing. It means you are not fully in control of your life. It means you have that monkey on your back that will kill you if you do not kill it first.

And I know what is going on. Being a depressive, I really need something that hits that reward center of the brain just to keep my head above water and not end up in catastrophic depression.

The kind where you just stare at the wall for hours because you don’t have the energy to kill yourself.

So if I want to free myself from my twin addictions of sleep and food, I need to tunnel through all this pent up resistance and find other things which I will find rewarding in life.

Things that will probably be a lot more work, which is something I will have to learn to deal with. Still working on that whole “you will be happier if you do more things” concept.

Being happier when I expend more effort and not less… sounds weird, but what the hell.

So while these realizations are kind of depressing, they are also heartening, because they at least give me a greater understanding of just what my problems are and what I need to tackle if I want to go forward.

And I do.

Just, you know, stuff

I have been laying down the deepness for a while now, FSW aside. Between my intense navel gazing and my philosophical ramblings, this blog has been dealing with some really heavy stuff.

I mean, this is fucking ponderous, man.

So I figured that it was about time I just kicked back, put my feet up, popped the top on a cool cool pop, and shared some fun stuff with you guys.

After all, life can’t be all navel diving and portentious pondering.

Even Mister Deep Thinker, me, needs to clear the haze and let the sun shine in now and then.

First up, I would be badly remiss if I did not share with you the hot new feel good clip of the day.

God damn, that kid is funny. He really knows how to crack that comedy whip. His timing, his material, his persona, all very honed and precise and the result is COMEDY, baby.

And this is him at just 14 years old. Imagine how funny he will get when he’s older. He has found a field in which his limitations don’t limit him much, and he clearly plans to dominate it.

Speaking of his limitations, I am amazed at how well he speaks for someone with cerebral palsy. My mental image of people with that disease is that they have one hell of a time getting their muscles to obey them well enough to speak, and when they do speak, it is with a thick and distinctive accent that unfortunately makes a lot of people think they are stupid.

But they are not. They are perfectly normal (or in Jack’s case, brilliant) people trapped in bodies that just plain do not do what they are told. What a terrible fate!

But judging by Jack’s clear speech and lack of the involuntary rolling type motions I associate with the disease, it appears that medical science, possibly in the form of the new anti-spasmodic drugs, have allowed people with cerebral palsy to lead far more normal lives these days.

I am very happy to learn this. Any progress against that horrible disease is a miracle and a true liberation for the millions of sufferers.

And sure, he still needs his mobility device, but it seems reasonably compact and would not be a huge hindrance to mobility, unlike the long metal crutches I associate with the disease.

Go for it, Jack!

Now this next item requires a little bit of a setup.

See, there is this email going around the Intarweb lately. It was written by the president of a sorority called Delta Gamma, one Miss Rebecca Martinson, and it has rocketed her into instant Internet infamy.

Apparently, Rebecca was of the opinion that her sorority sisters were not quite acting properly, and became someone miffed at this. So she wrote a little email note to her sorority pals expressing concern.

I ask you to now click this link and scroll down to the section in italics on a pink background to view the text of her epoch-making little missive. Warning : a very high amount of swearing, including the phrase “cunt punt”.

You now have the necessary information to truly enjoy (and be kind of frightened by) the following.

Now that is how you take an Internet story and take it to the next level. Mike Shannon, our impassioned reader above, is apparently a star of Boardwalk Empire. Never seen the show except for the pilot, so I would not know him.

But I love what he did with Ms. Martinson’s little temper tantrum.

I disagree with all the people calling her the “crazy” sorority girl, though. She seems perfectly sane to me. If she had said “And if we piss of the Sigma Nus, they won’t help us fight the Dog Bats of Planet Zenith in time for the Great Awakening”, I would all her crazy.

But as is, she’s not crazy. She’s just being a colossal bitch. Not the same thing.

That said, I would be willing to accept that she was just having a really, really, really bad day.

I mean, I don’t hold Casey Kasem’s rant against him. Everyone loses their cool sometimes.

Oh, and I simply cannot leave “cunt punt” territory without sharing this with you :

That’s from Run Ronnie Run, a sadly obscure movie from the Mister Show team.

And I think it is bloody brilliant.

Finally, I have to share with you the funniest thing to come out of the recent explosions in Boston.

See, amidst the chaos, the confusion, the terror, the heroism, the speculation, the manhunt, the shootouts, and everything else about the Boston attack was one small, insignificant organization that surely knew from the very first day that big changes would be coming their way very soon.

You see, Boston, like any other modern megapolis, has a lot of sports teams, big and small. And if you have a lot of sports teams, you perforce have a lot of sports team names.

And we all know that many sports teams have had to change their names and mascots and logos in order to keep from offending various peoples and groups.

But never has any team been put directly like a certain semi-professional women’s basketball team with a name you simply will not believe.

Go ahead and guess, then click this link.

Yup. The Boston Bombers. The very phrase now describing Dzhokhar Tsarnaev and his dead brother. Take a look at their logo :

boston bombers logo

Needless to say, they will be changing everything very, very soon. I am sure that this was a perfectly acceptable team name for many years, and it is only recent events that have rendered it hilariously offensive and inappropriate.

I have not seen someone get fucked by the fickle finger of fate that bad since, well, these people :

And with that, our big bag o’ content is officially empty.

Tune in tomorrow for more of the overwrought and overthought ramblings of my mind!

The crimes of my people

Recently, because of my Facebook link to Jezebel, I came across this article about actor and model Lauren Hutton and some of her views.

One thing immediately leaped out of the article at me (and Jezebel, evidently):

A lot of the time, fashion is angry. It’s fucked up motherfuckers. Guys pissed off that they’re not women. But that’s why you have to use fashion to do what you want—and not be bossed around by it.”

This jumped out at me because it echoes something that I, myself, have thought for quite some time, and I figure this article is a good platform for launching a discussion of it.

For me, it started when I was watching a television show about women’s obsession with beauty, their constant battle with their weight, and so on.

At one point, they asked some prominent fashion designer (I forget who) why they used such skinny and unrealistic women as runway models.

His reply was that the clothes hung best on women like that.

In other words, supermodels look like that because fashion designers, largely gay men, want women who most closely resemble a clothing rack.

All that dieting and purging and anorexia throughout the world just because a bunch of angry fags would rather change how women look to fit the clothes than the other way around.

And that just floors me. I can’t properly describe how angry that makes me. Billions of women all over the world hating themselves because they don’t look like supermodels who only look like that because a bunch of bitchy fags vent their hatred of women via fashion.

So I think that Hutton hits the nail on the head, honestly. I think that for at least three generations, the world of fashion has been dominated by gay men who hate women and therefore really enjoy judging them harshly and destroying their self-image and making them humiliate and torture themselves just to win the tiniest bit of approval from this cabal of misogynists.

I would not say that these are “men pissed off that they are not women”. That is true in a way, but might mislead people into thinking these men literally want to be women in the transsexual sense.

Instead, I would say that these male fashionistas are virulently and venomously jealous of women.
After all, women get the ninety percent of men that we homosexuals do not. Women are free to be pretty and silly and shallow and sensitive and all kinds of other things that a gay man might desperately want for himself but knows that he could never truly have.

Many gay men would love to be able to draw the kind of attention from men that a good looking woman can get. When you are a beautiful woman, men flatter you, they buy you drinks, they wine and dine you, they give you expensive gifts, they even marry you and “take you away” to a much better lifestyle.

And the knowledge that this can never happen to them, I think, turns some gay men into bitter, vicious shrews who are eager to punish, punish, punish women for having what they could never have.

And it is not just the fags at the top of the fashion industry who are in on this battle of the bitchiest. The entire fashion industry, as Lauren Hutton points out, is full of these sorts of gay men. They channel their hatred of women into brutal judgments of every tiny little flaw, perceived or real, of how a woman looks to them.

And it’s not just fashion, either. The entire celebrity gossip industry is also ruled by bitter, angry homos who, if they can’t have what women have, will settle for cutting people who are more powerful and popular than them to pieces with their words and their disdain.

It is all very, very sick, and very, very wrong, and it is a side to gay culture which is repellent to me and which I refuse to simply accept.

Luckily, I think it is on its way out. I think two main factors will bring about its death :

One, the rise of mainstream acceptance of gay men, expressed ultimately in the movement towards gay marriage, will do a great deal to diffuse a lot of the anger and bitterness in the gay community as a whole. As more and more gay men come out of the closet and join the global gay community, the sense of being an isolated and persecuted minority shut out of society will dissipate, and with that, the impetus behind this kind of bitterness will diminish.

The other factor is that, as the global gay community grows, it broadens, and that means that by sheer numbers alone, a gay man has a better chance of meeting Mister Right than ever before.

There is also a much great chance of, at least on the Internet, finding the exactly little subculture that fits your particular sexuality, and finding at least some acceptance there.

So this vein of poisonous envy will be all tapped out in the future. But while it still exists, I will remain its implacable enemy.

As a gay man, I cannot help but feel connected somehow to these toxic prima donnas, and I think we could, as a community, do the world an enormous favour by unearthing this nastiness, airing it out for all the world to see for what a horrid, petty, nasty thing it is, and publicly denounce it wherever it dares to rear its ugly, ugly head.

I think that, at the very least, we owe it to ourselves to distance ourselves from such low and filthy sentiments that only drag us all down and push us further away from the light.

But more than that, I think we owe it to the countless women who have suffered horribly as a direct result of our misplaced and judgmental wrath.

We need to collectively relax, put our claws away, give up on hate, and see what we can do to repair the damage we have done.

Don’t get me started on the Catholic Church.