How I'm Batman-shit-crazy

(This started out being one post...got a little long so it's to be continued)

Damn.... Two weeks since a blog post. You people really need to hound me more. I'm a little amazed I've actually managed to muster up the effort for this, as I just purchased a PS3 and Batman: Arkham Asylum and have fallen under the Dark Knight's spell (just call me the Dork Knight).

That being said, on the the main topic- my eccentricities. I truly believe that I push the limits of the term “eccentric” (and eclectic, but that's another matter). There's a variety of reasons. I'll start with the most obvious. A couple years back, I was diagnosed with depression. I've been taking meds since. At first I kinda kept it a secret, then I decided to say fuck it and be open about it (ah....growing up).

One stat I found says that about 10% of adult Americans suffer from some form of depression (upliftprogram.com). While there are all kinds of other related disorders (bipolar, etc.), there are two main types of depression. There is major depression. This is the “huddle in the corner and rock back and forth for two weeks” kind of depression. Well, maybe not that bad, but you get the idea. It stops your life. If you've known me for the last two years, you can probably figure out that's not me, eeing as how I haven't been huddled in a corner over that time.

While a shrink has never told me this, upon doing some research (which I highly suggest – for everything), I found I have what is called dysthemic depression. The symptoms are milder. They don't interfere with your life, at least not directly. Officially, to be diagnosed with this, you have to have symptoms for two –count 'em....2-- years.

Let's go over some symptoms. It was really bad for me the Fall of 2007. It started with an all the time sadness punctuated with times of elatedness. Not so extreme as bipolarism, but same kind of idea. Now that I mention it, let's get one thing out of the way. Depression medications are not “happy pills.” You can't magically take a pill and be that crazy Food Network chick Giada (grinning at you above). They “stabilize” your mood. Make the roller coaster more of a Sunday afternoon cruise.

I was also kind of paranoid. I always thought that everyone was against me. While kind of funny looking back, not a pleasant feeling at the time. I wanted to be everywhere at once. If I went home (I.e. my parent's house) for a weekend, I'd constantly be wondering what everyone else was doing. When I was in class, I felt like I was missing something somewhere.

Unfortunately, the person who got the brunt of my.. ehhem... attitude... was Liz. I was the quintessential jealous boyfriend. Pair that with the ups and downs, I'm still amazed she stayed with me through that crap (must be my boyish good looks).

The weird thing was that I knew something wasn't right. I could stand back and say “man, I'm being an ass – what the hell is wrong with me?” So I decided to see psychologist (the lay on the couch and tell them your feelings kind of doc). While this REALLY helped, we realized I was probably chemically off as well (both of my parents have depression), so I saw a psychiatrist (they give you drugs), who agreed.

And here we are.

Holy shit-- a full page (at least in my word processor). I guess I'll continue this next post, I don't want to overload you. If you think you may have depression, seek help, I'm open for any questions you may have.

On (a)theism

(I'd like to add "and engineers" to that picture)

To begin- the much anticipated results of our impromptu reader's survey. I got four responses (come on, guys, that's a little disappointing). Two guys, two gals. Good spread. I like it. Three of them were to the effect of “last night” or “very recently” as to when they last read for pleasure. The other was “last week sometime.” Any way you look at it, they all read regularly. Not surprising- if you're reading this, you probably read regularly.

I was shocked to learn during a lunch with my superior (a technical superior, not management) that s/he doesn't read “for pleasure” very often. This goes to show- you can't read a book by it's cover (pun entirely intended).

On to the main topic (I'm beginning to see a pattern here)- atheism. For those of you who don't know, I'm an atheist. I'm not agnostic, I'm not “spiritual”, I'm an atheist. I got to this topic because I recently submitted my second blog post to www.atheistnews.org 's blog contest. If I'm chosen, I'll be moving the blog over to their site and doing it five times a week (shit, more work).

Believe it or not, I'm not here to go on an anti-religion, hurray for atheism rant- I'm here to bitch about atheists. First and foremost- the confrontation. Often when I hear a religious person say “I'm praying for you” or some other theistic statement to an atheist, they (the atheist) go on a tirade about how they're delusional, etc, etc. It drives me nuts. I say “Thank you” and go on my way.

Think about it. One of the biggest complaints of atheists is that they are tired of hearing about people's religion and religious views. As ironic as it sounds, I tend to think of things in a “Do unto others” kind of way. So why would you rant about atheism? It's the same as being lectured for not believing.

I truly think the world would be a better place if everyone could believe in what they wanted to believe and no one else knew or cared. I think 311 said it best in their song “Seems Uncertain” - “Your denomination/ should be a private thing/ how about a spirit/ for all human beings?” I encourage everyone to at the very least go look up the lyrics to the song ( http://www.songlyrics.com/311/seems-uncertain-lyrics/ ), they truly apply here (not to mention being a great song).

So, to everyone I say- tone it down. Go hug someone.



What I'm watching- How I Met Your Mother and Big Bang Theory (Season Premiers)

What I'm listening to- 311- Seems uncertain (album: Evolver)

I'm watching TV while I post this.

Behold! The powers that be at Facebook heard my pleas, and introduced Facebook Lite. Go to lite.facebook.com to try it out. It's essentially a stripped down version of facebook; no apps, no chat, just status updates and notifications. It's pretty slick. While you're surfing the 'net, I encourage you to go to the blogspot website for this blog (if you're not there already): pulasblog.blogspot.com. It's better than the facebook group in that it is geared towards a blog (who would have thought?), unlike the group. It lets me do some fun things like insert pictures.

That said, let's get to the real topic of this post. You all know I'm an avid reader. I read fiction, non-fiction, self-improvement, business, and most things in between (except Twilight). I think that reading makes me a more well-rounded person more capable of somehow contributing to society. I suspect this may stem from my innate desire to achieve something “great” within my lifetime.

I'm gonna toss some thought provoking statistics out there (taken from readfaster.com). Some 50% of American adults can't read an eighth grade level book. I can't comprehend this. Admittedly, I work in a science field, which tends to lend itself to reading (I've read more research papers in my last three months at FTT than I care to admit). Not only that, but I regularly have to communicate my work to others in both conversations and presentations.

To be honest, I think this all stems from childhood. Not only did I read as a kid (I can remember reading a story to my kindergarten class that my mom had helped me learn), but I was read to. Another stat for you: In 1999, 53 % of children aged 3 to 5 were read to daily by a family member. Gone are the bedtime stories to help go to sleep. Now there are Spongebobs and Fairly Odd Parents to lull kids to sleep on the couch. “So much easier!” says the parent. Get off your ass and read to your kids.

I'm willing to bet that not only will you bond with them, they will enjoy reading more in the future. While I understand that there are many cases of ADD and ADHD that are legitimate, I truly think the majority of these come from laziness on the part of the parents. Ever think that if you had made your kid sit down and listen to you read (or read themselves), maybe they'd be better off than being bombarded with flashing colors and noises from a box?

Don't get me wrong- I love TV. I watch far too much of it, admittedly. But, like swearing, smoking, and drinking, it's something that is best consumed later in life and in moderation.

I'd like to do a little impromptu poll. Write either in the facebook group of comment on the blog site when the last time you read for pleasure was. Include what you were reading. I'll compile them and give you crazy cats the results a week of so later.




I thought I'd include a little section on what I'm into lately:

What I'm watching: True Blood season 1
I'm not convinced it's good yet- stay tuned.
What I'm Reading: Dragons of Summer's Flame (Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman)
I needed a break from the thought provoking and relatively dry reading of American Prometheus.
What I'm listening to: Lily Allen
You might know her song “Smile.” Good british poppy stuff (I have eclectic -and weird- tastes)

A brief interlude-

What to write, what to write? I find myself lazing around my overpriced one bedroom hotel of an apartment contemplating that very question. I've taken quite a liking to writing over the last week of so, with the launch of my blog. Having just finished up the second season of Californication, I find myself listless and bored. Why not write something? I say to myself. But what? I answer.

Good fucking question.

Let's think about this. I've been writing regularly for a week. That's seven days (give or take), and I'm already stuck. I feel no end of sympathy –or is it empathy? I can never remember to difference-- for someone who truly writes for a living. I'm not talking some middle aged jackass sitting in a cubical at the Tribune's office jotting down his comments on the latest fish report or baseball game. I'm talking about a writer, someone who attempts to debug this crazy little thing called life through the magic of words.

I recently (this morning) finished up The Nasty Bits by one Mr. Anthony Bourdain (maybe you've heard of him). It's a collection of articles and rhetorics about food, people, and places he's encountered. It was precisely what I expected from him, great non-fiction writing about what he's experienced through his 50+ years. If you watch his Travel Network show; No Reservations, you've pretty much read this book. But at the end was a little glimmer of something different.

No doubt still drawing on his past as a cook/chef/food guy, it's a little fictional ditty about a restaurant that's going under and around Christmas time has some remarkable experiences that change the lives of those involved. All in 30 pages.

I sat down tonight wishing I could write something similar. Something I'd want to read. That's how I tend to judge things. From the only perspective I know how. Mine. Should I do something? How would I feel if I found out someone else had done the very same? Sort of a Golden Rule code of ethics. Short and sweet, it gets the job done (mostly).

Then again, there's no accounting for taste.

It's Labor Day here in the good ol' US of A, and most people are sitting around campfires or barbecues, drinking something intoxication and hanging out with friends. I'm pretty much doing the same thing. I'm sitting in front of my outdated POS laptop that has threatened to burn a hole through anything it sits on (including my lap and it's precious contents), sipping a crystal light, and writing. Not too long ago, I was playing video games.

And...I'm stuck. If you haven't figured it out by now, I've simply been blathering on talking via text to my computer in the hopes that something worth writing would pop into my head. I've got nothing. Fiction. Non-Fiction. It's all a big blank (big surprise there). I could talk about my thoughts on healthcare or politics, but I don't really feel like it.

I find myself getting in this kind of mood often as of late. I strongly suspect it's a manifestation of my depression (diagnosed two and a half years ago). I've been dealing with it through the use of prescription drugs, but I would deeply enjoy a way to cope without the use of medicinals. I can almost guarantee you that I think about things on a daily basis that don't even cross your mind.

When I die (probably sooner than I think), will I have left a lasting impact on the world? Is a common one. Jesus- I sound like a middle aged man. I guess there's nothing left to do but buy a bright red sports car, get some more tattoos and rock and roll t-shirts and start banging a model.

I have a deep desire to work on military technology- but could I reconcile that with...

There's the buzzer for my Pork Loin (dinner). I'll catch you on the flip side.

*Ding ding* Round two. Here we go again. (I'm kidding- I love this shit). As uncomfortable as it is, I find myself most prone to writing sitting on my living room floor. I suppose it seems appropriate. Sipping my pomegranate lemonade crystal light (Now with more artificial sweeteners!), I've been contemplating how best to write this. I've alluded in the comments section of the facebook group what my general topic is- I'll give you a few seconds to go check......................

Ya right. We both know you don't read that crap. But I do- and I appreciate them. Seriously. Go write a post right now. Suggestions, comments, whatever. Make me feel loved. That being said, I've gotten two suggestions in the last couple days. 1. Be more mean. I can do that. Easily. 2. Mention my saxophone. Much, much harder. But I'll try. I'm embarrassed to say I just had to correct my spelling of “saxophone” just now- thank you spell check.

So, for those of you who don't read the wall (I don't blame you), this post is going to be about the fall of the English language. I'll start off by referring you to the article (suggested by my aunt, Nancy) that inspired this: http://www.wired.com/techbiz/people/magazine/17-09/st_thompson

The article essentially makes the case (through Ig Nobel award inspiring research) that texting, twitter, and the like aren't actually destroying a language that took over a millennium to develop. The research studies a bunch of college students- analyzing various writing they do throughout their post secondary education. The researcher (Dr. Andrea Lunsford, that's her mug staring at you from the top of this post. She looks like she wants to lure me to her ginger bread house and invite me in for dinner, where the surprise main course is -wait for it- me!) suggests that the “LOL”s and “OMG”s are adding up to more writing than past generations, making this generation of college goers better writers.

I see a problem here.

Twitter has been around for...what? A year? Two? Chatting has been around for a while, but texting didn't hit mainstream until a few years ago. The students studied in this...uh....study... are about my age (I'm 20), maybe older. That means they (like me) grew up with relatively little texting/chatting/LOLing, and with proper English as the majority of their language exposure. This research would be far more valid in five to ten years when these nit wits people call “the future” (which scares me to no end) are in college. They will have grown up with this shit. I have actually heard someone say “L O L” in conversation when something humorous was said. I SHIT YOU NOT. This makes me want to hole up with an AK somewhere in the everglades, waiting for Europe to finally get sick of us and team up against the good ol' US of A (get used to saying “God Save the Queen!” or “Viva La France!”).

In the first blog post, I mentioned Californication. In it, David Duchovny's character has an interview during which he says of his latest obsession:

Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber. You know, I mean we have all this amazing technology and yet computers have turned into basically four figure wank machines. The internet was supposed to set us free, democratize us, but all it's really given us is Howard Dean's aborted candidacy and 24 hour a day access to kiddie porn. People... they don't write anymore, they blog. Instead of talking, they text, no punctuation, no grammar: LOL this and LMFAO that. You know, it just seems to me it's just a bunch of stupid people pseudo- communicating with a bunch of other stupid people at a proto-language that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the King's English.

While I realize that was a long quote, it was worth it. It sums up EXACTLY what I want to say in this post.

I feel the need to defend myself a little here. I text. You all probably know that. If you didn't, surprise. However, never will you see me type “LOL” or something similar. If I wish to convey laughing, I say “haha.” I also type in (mostly) complete sentences. When my mother texts me and says LOL, I die a little on the inside. It's bad enough I have to put up with that shit from people my age or younger- but my mom? Jesus.

O ya.

Sax-a-ma-phone. (to the tune of Beethoven's fifth)

Welcome to Hell

How the hell did I end up here? Sitting on my livingroom floor with my POS, 4 year old Vaio laptop in front of me. The annoyingly distracting yet entirely necessary tv on in the background (one of those crappy Futurama movies). I suppose it was inevitable.

If you're reading this, you're probably a friend or relative, in which case- I'm sorry. I'm sorry for having to put up with my ass throughout the years and I'm sorry for anything I may say in this post or any future posts in this blog that may offend. I just shuddered as I wrote that sentence. Blog. I never thought I'd ever end up writing one of these. I mean- what's next? Twitter? God, I hope not. Though, I distinctly remember saying that “texting is stupid” and “Why don't you just call them?” Now I've got about 2000 outgoing texts a month.

I suppose I should explain what this is exactly. It's a blog. Plain and simple. I've been debating this for a long while. I need a place to vent- I mean, who doesn't? The reason I didn't is because I feared upsetting those who might care to read. What most of you don't know about me is that I am incredible cynical and kind of an ass hole (ok, REALLY an asshole) on the inside. I've gotten pretty good at keeping my thoughts to myself. Here, it all comes out.

This blog is largely inspired by a show called “Californication”- not to be confused with the Red Hot Chili Peppers album/song. It stars David Duchovny (Fox Mulder from X Files) as a sarcastic, drunken, promiscuous writer in LA. I dig it.

“But what will he talk about?” You might be saying to yourself. “He's got everything going for him- he's a WASP living in Florida with a good job right out of college.” True. But that doesn't mean I can't find something to bitch about. Being that most of you probably linked here from facebook (pretty much my only mass communication outlet), I thought I'd bitch about Facebook for a while.

Who here remembers Myspace? *raises hand* When it first started, it was alright. You could make a profile, search for people you knew, and look up people in a given area that you didn't. Then, people started customizing their profiles through imbedded codes, adding retarded quizzes, and making it a seizure inducing nightmare. That's when I bailed.

Shortly before the fall of Myspace, Facebook started up. It was nice- you needed a COLLEGE email address to open an account. It was meant to be a more “adult” myspace intended for COLLEGE students. It started out simple. Write on a wall, send a message, update your status. You could put up pictures too. Now...dear sweet jewish zombie christ. Every possible person, show, movie, or media of any form has a facebook. You can be “fans” of things. You can play games. You can send people things. I truly don't give a shit if you're a fan of Death Cab for Cutie. Stop sending me invites to join your zombie hoard of mafia family. And I can assure you that you have nothing in common with the character from Twilight that quiz says you match. That's because they are FICTIONAL.

There is one saving grace. My blackberry. On my blackberry, I see any new statuses, as well as any notifications not having to do with those stupid facebook apps. I can see your profile- without the apps. So, it's like facebook 1.0, the good facebook as far as I'm concerned. The only issue is anyone can still be there. I feel like there should be an upper and lower limit on the age for this site. There's really no way to police that though- so I'll leave that issue be.

I suppose I'll wrap it up. If you enjoyed this and might consider reading future posts, please post a comment either in the facebook group of to the blog directly (preferred). Pester me to write more- I need the kick in the ass. I'll post the first few to the facebook group, after which I'll stick to the blog site.