Monthly Archives: October 2011

A Life Lived In Fear is No Life to Live

It’s cold and flu season, and I’m your canary in the coalmine. Got railroaded by the bug last week and I’ve been sick a full week.
I spent my weekend being The Human Spigot and exploring my all-too-close love-affair with polar fleece and cozy slippers, sipping honeyed tea and regretting food choices that turned me into The Loudest Coughing Neighbour Of All Time.
But all this time under the weather around All Hallow’s Eve has given me a chance to watch horror movies I’ve always been too cowardly to see. I was never a “horror” fan. But I never gave it a chance, either. They were scary, so, no, I wouldn’t watch ’em. Ever. A + B = Not A Fucking Chance.
Having crossed a number off my list now, the experience has left me sort of pensive after my horror-movie-spree of Halloween week. I still have more horrors on the trusty PVR, and I’m not worried about watching them.
I began wondering if maybe my fear of watching horrors was part of the problem with my general fears about life. If there’s any one thing I most regret from my childhood, culturally, it’s that inability to confront All Things Scary in horrors. I’m not sure where my apprehensions came from. Maybe it’s just demonstrative of my unlikely tendency to face fear in general.
It’s the cultural chicken-or-the-egg conundrum. Did my fears come first, or was it my fear of feeling fear?
I know that even today I’m a big old scaredy-cat. There’s so much I’m scared to face, so many excuses I find for honouring that fear and not facing those things which I should have the balls to face.
On some deeper level, this “I’m gonna watch horrors” movement I’m in reflects that I’m finally trying to do some of those things that scare me. I’m trying to take the scare out of the figuring, and make choices that don’t come from a place of avoidance due to fears. But, it’s hard.
A friend of mine does theatrical classes with kids and had a big scary day planned for his class today, but the asshats who run the school (and I know they’re asshats firsthand, having worked for the jerk owner myself) said it was “inappropriate” and now he’s doing a “harvest” class because the ghouls and goblins are nixed by administration. Probably partly on religious grounds, since I know who’s doing the deciding there. Whatever, lady.
When I heard about this, it made me angry. The thought of kids being raised coddled and protected, without the experience of being scared shitless, well, that’s not working out so well for me in my middling age, and I think it’s a recipe for failing the next generation.
Every kid needs to experience horror, fear, and the idea that Evil Lurks Somewhere.
Fact is, life is a big scary place. Evil is lurking. Bad things happen. But the further fact is, we usually outlast the fear. We get over it. Things scare the bejesus out of us, then we laugh it off, take a deep steadying breath, and carry on with life. That’s the human condition… most of the time.
Except we’re trying to handhold everyone out of fear — whether it’s Big Pharmacology trying to medicate the shit out of our anxiety or bubble-proofing kids, we try to “protect” ourselves. Don’t tell the politicians and the newsmedia, though — their whole industries exist on sneaking fear into our daily lives.
Today’s playgrounds — rubberized so kids don’t “get hurt” — are an example of just how ridiculous we are about life and its trials. God forbid Little Johnny should scrape his knee.
Personally, I know my stubbornness probably made it unlikely anyone would have succeeded when I was young and saying “No, I won’t do that, it scares me.” I wish I’d had craftier people around me that could have manipulated me past that fear. I wish my brother had taunted me less and supported me in confronting those deep, dark, scary places where having a big, strong brother with me holding my hand rather than trying to up the fear-ante might’ve taken the edge off things. I wish I’d had a lot of things, but that’s the way the growing-up-in-the-real-world cookie crumbles.
I think it  comes down to us being one of two types of people — either we focus on the exhilaration of relief we feel when fear subsides, or we get hung up on the terror that comes with fear’s rise. I’ve always been the latter, unable to get past the scare and celebrate how awesome it feels to realize we’re safe.
And maybe watching horror movies doesn’t mean a fucking thing in the long run of life. Maybe it’s a stupid waste of my time.
Or maybe it’s a sign that I’m changing some fundamental philosophies inside and opening my eyes to the reality that most of those things I’ve feared in life have been without point, and overinflated by yours truly’s excessive imagination.
Because, in the end, none of those movies scared me. A couple made me angry. “THIS? THIS is a horror classic? Carrie SUCKS. I didn’t even gasp once!”
In the end, the most common reaction I had, though, was that there was never anything I needed to fear, and I could’ve gotten it over with literally two decades ago.
Now I need that line of thinking to my day-to-day, because waking up on the fear side is no way to live.
PS: The Exorcist is still a fucking awesome movie. Saw it a decade ago and still love it.

A Journally Thing: Of Clean Houses and Sore Backs

So, things are in new places and places are in new things. Whoa. Feeling a little Seuss-y there for a moment.
Mornin’, kids.
I had me a long weekend, and it was good. I’ve had so many weekends of trying to get somewhere new around my home, and it’s never really worked, despite getting the place reasonably organized. Every week, boom, another cleaning disaster unfolds.
Recently, I’d written about cleaning a cupboard with an approach of “from where does the mess begin?” Then I wondered, why can’t I do that with my home?
So, on a complete whim, Saturday, I got up, moved a couple things, and then I had reoriented my whole living room, with greater space for workout and a cleaner path through my place, with less clutter.
I sat down with my wine Saturday night and kept looking around the apartment, all “Oooh.” I still wasn’t done and I made some changes Sunday, but my space feels lighter to me now.
My continuing progression of self is going well this fall.
Massive edit here. I wrote about 5 paragraphs explaining how I was an emotional Ugly Cry Mess for a week last week, partly due to PMS, but mostly, I think, due to a rib being out of place in my back. The same spot is considered by Chinese medicine to be a meridian for our Chi, which is life energy, and the flipside, over the heart area, is considered an acupressure/acupuncture point for happiness. I had the rib fixed by my chiro Friday, right after getting my “more happier button” reset, as my acupuncture doctor says, and I haven’t come close to being emotional or sad since.
It’s funny how the body works.
So, when we’re “out of alignment,” we really are.
It’s been months that I’ve been recuperating from this stupid injury, so I wonder what that does to the headspace.
Well, my mood’s been fucking great since Friday.
I’ve been keeping to myself, doing the things I’ve longed to do, and finally have gotten my space up to speed. I like what I’ve done this weekend. On top of that, I’ve had 8-10 hours a night of sleep for three nights — which is on par with being a religious experience after the restless September I had and the months of sporadic sleep preceding that.
Friday was sort of my hitting-bottom of my back injury. No, the back’s not BAD these days, but it’s not what I’d hoped it’d be. Hell, I thought I’d be over this shit by June, but it’s turning into 2/3rds of a year in a couple weeks. That’s a long time for things to be awry.
The trouble with an injury like the back is not just that it puts you in severe pain for weeks on end — about seven excruciating weeks for me, and three months of low-grade pain after that — but how much it incapacitates you in the long run.
I’ve been running at 50-75% capacity for months now. I have to STOP when I hear things in my body saying “this is too much.” Whether I’m cleaning, out with friends, whatever. When your back says stop, you better fucking listen.
These days, though, it says stop less frequently. By making the choice to spend most weekends at home slowly getting my life back on track, and recuperating as needed, I’ve done exactly what I’d hoped to do.
I’m also starting with a new physiotherapist this week.
People don’t get how much of a financial burden it is to get injured. If you can’t work 100%, and you’re constantly putting out money on care, and you’re occasionally taking the easy route with takeout or delivery because SOMETHING has to give, well, it’s a pretty draining existence financially. I’ve been in that boat immediately after about seven months of unemployment. It’s like that Simply Red song, Money’s Too Tight To Mention. Every back appointment is another $50-100. And you wonder why I have no life.
So, my money goes out on my back, constantly. Literally a few thousand this year. So, finally there’s room for a new physiotherapy routine, which will be wonderful. That starts this Friday. I’m very excited. If it doesn’t work, there’s another I want to try.
It’s that I’m finally able to work a little more that I can do a little more for myself. So, it’s a good thing.
I wish I’d journalled on the pain throughout my injury, though. There were some dark, dark days from March to May this year.
It’s amazing how resilient we can be. Sometimes no one else really knows. But we do. I’m trying to remember now those black fucking days, so I can contrast this casual feeling of liking my living room as my coffee cup hits bottom and buttery sunlight streams through the curtain cracks.
THIS moment, this, right here — this is something I’ve not enjoyed often in the last year… simple contentment within a moment. Not stressed, scared, or panicked. Just… casual.
They call back injuries “invisible” because no one really sees it. They think you’re moody or depressed because there’s a weary look in the eye, bags under them, and a constantly strained face. What they don’t know is that it’s because you can’t sleep more than two or three hours at a time, if that, and you’re never comfortable enough for that edginess to soften.
Back injuries aren’t an inconvenience — they become a way of life.
So, my way of life is still compromised, but it’s improving to the point where I have actual moments of feeling human again. That’s nice.
Everything solved? No. Over the money struggles? Nah. Smooth sailing ahead? Likely not.
And that’s okay. Because at least there’s the possibility of awesome.

Occupy This, Wall Street

In 2008, my friend bought me an Obama shirt as a New Orleans souvenir. I was definitely an Obama fan but I’ve never been one for political worship.
You show me a politician, I’ll show you someone who makes compromise a lifestyle — Obama or otherwise.
Not that all compromise is bad, but sometimes you gotta fucking stand your ground, only that doesn’t happen in American politics anymore, not in a way that benefits the average person.
I’ve been unhappy with the Obama administration because I’d hoped for more. I’d hoped for someone who would inspire while he led, who’d bring the passion of those campaign-trail speeches to daily life.
And I’d hoped for an American people who demanded more, who got involved, who wanted changed, and who’d be there to make the change.
Then nothing changed.
For 2.5 years, I’ve worn that Obama shirt inside-out, and only while housecleaning. I think that’s my own private way of making a statement. I don’t hate him, I just didn’t get the leader I’d hoped he’d be. Still, ain’t Bush.
For three years I’ve been frustrated at the lack of passion in America, how everything’s been one glib joke after another, but somehow there’s a wall between the reality of people’s homes and jobs evaporating, and the pompous otherworldly life of the 1% that sucks up so much of the airwaves’ time.

Photo by Nancy Edlin, shared publicly on Facebook.


Fuck Kim Kardashian’s wedding, Mr. News Anchor.
For years now, I’ve been angry, frustrated, and felt like I’d been ripped off and oversold. First eight years of Bush, then three years of this tip-toeing through ethical landmines that Washington has become.
In the early days of Occupy Wall Street, I thought “Yeah, nice gesture, but let’s see how long that lasts.”
I’m flabbergasted at the rate at which it’s starting to catch on. Stunned that the Billionaires’ Club is now defending its earnings and politicians are saying “Let’s not acknowledge them.”
The tide is turning. It’s an immovable force. It seems like the anger I wanted people to feel is finally there, that they’ve finally attained a sense of entitlement to a good life and a slice of the vaunted American Dream Pie.
There are so many sayings going around behind the #OSW protests. Like, “I believe in the separation of corporation and state,” and “I’m not opposed to capitalism; I’m opposed to corporate greed.” Yet so many seem to just not get it.
But they will.
The media has begun to realize #OccupyWallStreet might be the verge of a bold new era of an involved electorate, an angry populace, and the beginning of the end to this neo-feudal society that has arisen.
There’s one area in which the 1% are our equals: They only get one vote.
So, then. Who gets that vote?
Not a clue. Give it time. Hello, Darkness– do ya got a voice crying out in there? Who?
Remember, the French Revolution only took three years for the peasantry to overthrow the monarchy and the bourgeois. It took three years to plant the seeds for a way of life we’ve enjoyed for 220 years.
220 years? Democracy needs a facelift. She’s looking a little punchy. And now we have social media. Think of soc-med, like Twitter and Facebook, as the microwave-cooking of revolutions: Gets cooked faster than you ever hoped!
And business? Time for an overhaul, but mostly in the financial sector. I don’t give a fuck about Coca-Cola, I care about Goldman-Sachs.
Last week, when Steve Jobs died, even people I’ve long respected made ignorant comments like “If the the Occupy Wall Street protestors had their way, there’d be no Steve Jobs.”
What the fuck you talkin’ ’bout, Willis? I choose to own an iPhone, I don’t choose to have the economic world collapse due to speculators. I’m fine with Apple being Apple, Jobs having been Jobs. That’s business, not personal.
What I’m not fine with is executives like John Paulson taking a half-billion-dollar bonus because he THINKS he speculated well on finances (but then loses 40% value the next year). Steve Jobs took ONE DOLLAR A YEAR in pay, so don’t tell me he’s in the same class as the Wall Street Fat Cat Assholes who seem to think $500,000,000 is a good year-end bonus.
Their mistakes crash the world. Their successes have been few and far between for years. A little objectivity might help.
I’m lucky if I get a $500 Christmas Bonus, because I live in the real world and work for a small company, like most average joes/janes.
Between the stupidity of the finance industry in the United States — which is a world different than Canada’s, where we’ve never softened legislation, banking is healthy, and people still get loans — and the broken electoral system, it’s gonna take a big, long, noisy protest to wake the entire country up to just how stupid things have become down south.
There are massive issues in countries all around the world, because we’ve watched the relaxing of ethics in power in America and it spreads like a fungus, because America’s influence on the world is unparalleled.
Within their own borders, I find Americans don’t understand why it’s so important to the rest of us what happens there, and why we get so invested in their inability to demand true change from their leaders.
But it’s really, really simple. America is the house of cards we’re all built upon. They come tumbling down and the whole world’s financial network goes boom. Even Canada, where it’s sort of a healthy economy due to our regulations, has felt the pain from America’s missteps in recent years.
These are dark, difficult days. Change is needed urgently, globally: fairness in finance, representation in politics, equality in legislation, and people’s voices being truly heard.
What we need is a government with balls, a government who realizes there’s opportunity in saying, “Hey, you, hedge fund — go fuck yourself. The public want what we got.”
As for Obama, I’d seen a speech he did on the early days in the Iraq war, and he was so prescient that I thought “A man with this kind of future vision, he needs to be leader.”
And every day since his administration began, I’ve had one West Wing/Aaron Sorkin-inspired wish: “Let Obama be Obama.” I’ve wished he’d raise the level of debate in America.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. After all the partisan bickering, the forgetting that there are real people who depend daily on issues politicians are supposed to resolve, after all the water under the economical/political bridge, Obama’s a guy that’s a faint shade of who he promised he’d be.
Well, that oversold dream and those glossed-over half-truths, they’re old, and we need something new, Obama & Co.

PS: Let’s remember, too, that a Vancouver, Canada company kickstarted the whole Occupy Wall Street Movement — Adbusters announced the Occupy Wall Street event back in July and tried to drum up support. I wonder what their editorial office is like these days, as the movement takes hold globally.

The Media Is Dead To Me

For three weeks, protests have been gaining steam in New York City, and spreading across America.
People are realizing they’re angry, and hey, so’s the next guy. They’re seeing their way of life evaporate.
Gone is the way I grew up, the life I knew, and I’m Canadian. Americans have it worse. Middle class? Buh-bye, we don’t have that no more.
The media? Where have they been? Not covering the protests, that’s for sure. Why would they? When they’re so advertising-dependent on all the companies that the voices are shouting against, why would the media cover it? Don’t slap the hand that feeds you… even if it means you’ll lose the trust of the masses you need. Fucking idiots.
There was a time when one would turn to NBC or CBS, because, if Cronkite, Murrow, or some other most-trusted-man-in-America told you, then you’d believe it. Now? Jon Stewart repeatedly wins polls as the most trusted man in America, and he’s literally a joke[r].
In the first few days of the protest, there were active disinformation campaigns. People with blog posts showing garbage left by the “nowhere to be seen” protesters. I searched many of these sites and believed it was over.
But the protest went nowhere. They stood their ground, took over the park, and have been there ever since. Gradually, the word’s gotten out.
If it wasn’t for the stupidity of police brutality, they may never have gotten the coverage they’ve needed for growth.
Even now, the cable news shows aren’t focusing on the protest.
Then there’s the talk of what’s the message? What are the protests really ABOUT? What’s the unified theme?
Long story short, money, and how so many of us work so fucking hard, following all that we were told to do, and yet we’re still barely keeping our heads above water. And how much harder that is in the United States, where banks have a stranglehold on the entire economy.
There’s barely a middle class anymore. Thrift stores are doing desperate pleas for donations, because more people can’t afford full-price new items in stores. Food is going through the roof. My bread flour’s up 30% this year. Peanut butter is to follow. Never mind everything else.
Soon, restaurants will be priced out of existence, and the last 50 years of our culture based on dining out and that blissful life will be a memory of the past.
Once upon a time, eating out was a rare treat. For some of my friends and I, we’re back to that era, where dining means we’re stepping into another world for a meal. Most of the time, it’s eating at home. But at least we’re eating. I get takeout, sure, but restaurants? Maybe twice a month. Maybe.
Instead, the media’s talking about the iPhone, new movies, crimes with Americans abroad, and other shit that has no actual relevance on MY life, or most people’s.

From the #OccupyWallStreet Facebook group. Uploaded by PHOTON FREQUENCY.


The real stories don’t get play. Why talk about something that doesn’t have a lot of hope attached — or can’t be spun into advertising revenue?
NOTHING HAS CHANGED since the 2008 bail-outs! Money was handed out with no restraint for the banks, with no rules about how to spend it, and look where we are. The lack of regulations remained, and now we’re hearing from Robert Zoellick and other international players that we’re on the edge of a crisis — world-wide, because America’s fucking up at the wheel.
Apparently the politicians are the last to find out, because those of us who’ve been stressing about bills, rent, and life in general don’t think the recession ever “ended.”
We’re still in the fucking fray, man. We’re still barely breathing here.
Since the economic collapse of 2008, I’ve been dealing with never-ending back problems, job woes, and other stresses. I’m not the happy Steff I once was, and my life is hard, week in and week out, but at least I have a very little breathing room, largely because I shop in thrift stores, eat at home, and keep a lid on my purchases. I feel like my life is lived in bondage because I really have very little room to move, and it makes me so empathetic for those who have far less than I do, or Americans living in an even worse market.
But where the FUCK are you, media?
Thank god for smartphones, YouTube, and social media.
If I’m boring you on Twitter or Facebook with #OccupyWallStreet content, then too fucking bad, because SOMEONE NEEDS TO GET THE MESSAGE OUT, and it looks like it’s on us to do so.
More than 150 cities are now doing protests. Where the FUCK is the corresponding media?
You can’t believe what you hear, read, or see, if it’s in the media. Not anymore.
If the press wanted a nail in its coffin, well, we’ve got the hammer.
We are the 99%.