Well, My Therapist Told Me...

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When people get frustrated, infuriated and pushed to their limit what do they do? Back in the olden times people would complain to an ear in the nearest vicinity, deface public property and passionately march in rallies and protests. What do people do now? Create Facebook groups of course. You didn't need to hold up and anti war poster to join the eloquently titled "Bush is a F***** Idiot group" nor do you ever need to donate food to join the "Feed a child with one click" group.

Yet Facebook groups have a unifying effect, they give people that "so we're really not alone" feeling. Now you know that you're not the only one who flips their pillow to get to the cool side and thinks that Dora the Explorer is an illegal immigrant. Not only do Facebook groups unite people with their common cyberspace kinsman but they also make people feel angry about happenings that they never consciously knew bothered them. I mean, I never knew that I wanted to "Punch slow people walking in the head" until I joined the group, nor did I ever consciously recognize my wrath for crocs until I affirmed with millions of others that "Crocs make you look like a dumbass." Just like a therapist, Facebook groups bring out pent up emotions, the struggles and inner demons that we battle with everyday, whether it be our yearning for 90'a Nickelodeon or our fuck this, I'm transferring to Hogwarts attitude. So the next time you have the uncontrollable feeling to punch that elderly lady in the walker in the back of her head don't blame on your anger issues. Simply explain to the elderly lady that you're working on your dark childhood with your cyberspace therapist, on your way to the ambulance that is.

Sorry for the Abnormally Long Hiatus

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It's been all parties and confusion.

Wilde 'N Out

Usually when I think of the of the word Oscar visions of packaged cold cuts come to mind. Yet even though Oscar Wilde does not have a snazzy commercial about B-O-L-O-G-N-A he stays in the forefront of my mind with his everlasting supply of witticism. Here are a few that I particularly love:

"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination. " (pshh what's a little credit card debt? Imagination is priceless after all).

"It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious."

"A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction. " (You know a man is clairvoyant when he can predict the face of botox).

"Only the shallow know themselves."

"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying. " (Alas, it is a curse, but we must learn to live with it.)

"I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world." (Perez Hilton's motto)

"Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone elses opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation."

"Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast." (The self justification for the not-morning- people across the globe, of beds .)

"The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about." (The philosophy of rehab bound, African baby adopting celebrities everywhere.)

"Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about. "

Now even though Oscar Wilde was imprisoned, ridiculed for his dressing sense and accused for having an affair with an underage boy toy you must admit, the man's got style.

Fear Factor

I always find it funny/interesting when people reveal their fears. Some times their confessions are poignant but in most cases they're just downright bizarre. I don't know if this is because I am horribly insensitive or if it's because people tend not to reveal their truly frightening fears to a girl with a notebook. Here are some of the fears I was able to weasel out of people:

• " Horses, they are like these reptilian dragons without wings."
• " Mediocrity."
• " Dumb people, I'm afraid about what they will do or say. It's embarrassing."
  
• " Getting old. It's inevitable and really depressing to think about not existing."
• "Compromising my integrity to do something I wouldn't have done in the first place."
• "Doctors."
• "Thinking I'm making the wrong choice. That I will hate school and my roommate. To think that your life could turn out completely different if you just make the other turn instead, but the thing is you don't know which turn is the right one to take."
• "Becoming a suburban soccer mom."
  
• "Bad dreams, it's like your mind has put you in this torture chamber and you are helpless to get out."
• " Miss Hannigan, the orphanage owner from the movie Annie. For the longest time I thought she was going to steal me away from my parents."
  
• "Not being able to get out of a bad trip."
• "Rejection. Failure. Inadequacy."
• "Animals attacking your face."
  
• " Rita and Lord Zed from the Power Rangers."
  

Hey Bully!

Oh I don't think I could ever forget what I looked like in middle school. I was a fairly breathtaking figure with eye brows that could rival any Russian man's, hair that's geometric shape was taken from the Egyptian pyramids and clothes that hung away from my lank little frame as if it rejecting any association with my body. I was a vision of awkwardness.

I took this little saunter down the rather-not- remember lane during a certain conversation in math class. My friend was discussing the latest episode of the Tyra Show (the stimulator of all intellectual conversations) which concerned the hazing between popular and unpopular girls at high school. I asked her "So were you a bully when you were younger?" Her affirmative response triggered me to questioned a variety of people about their browbeating past. Their responses certainly surprised me for they lied at extreme ends of the spectrum. It seemed like it was either bully or be bullied. Now I'm not referring to the take your lunch money type of bullying but moreover the let's make fun of your magic school bus sweatshirt type of bullying. I wondered what triggered these reformed aggressors. Traits like popularity, wealth and domineering physique are the commonly accepted notions . Obviously these stereotypes are superficial but they do hold clout in certain analysis since their is a certain confidence that is associated with these traits and a certain confidence is needed for bullying. But what exactly makes someone a bully? As someone who was on the other side of the predator-prey relationship I have made some of my own theories:

1. It's genetic: Is it just me or does popularity/bully-esquenss run in the family? As someone who has an older sister who went to the same exact schools as I did it seems as if the younger sibling filled the place of their older predecessor. It's as if popularity is some sex lined gene that is passed on through a lineage line. Well at least popularity is a better trait to pass on then hemophilia, just ask Queen Victoria's kids.
2. They've got the goods: You know who 'm talking about. It was those kids that got exactly what you wanted. Maybe it was that barbie dream car that you desperately wanted (or still want if you're like me) that they had. Or maybe it was the trampoline that they got as an early birthday present. But it certainly seemed like some kids had everything you and everyone else wanted. Maybe all those material acquisitions made them have a sense of entitlement, a right to rule so to speak.
3. They just watched too much Angelica Pickles as a kid: if someone was a bully in 7th grade doesn't mean they are Hitler's right hand man. Because everyone's mean sometimes. Maybe they were just confused or maybe it was for laughs. In 8th grade someone wrote in my yearbook "Start being mean, it's much more fun that way." Well one thing is for sure, being called hairy four eyes certainly wasn't.

I guess it's pretty irrelevant whether you were the oppressor or the oppressi in the day's of finger paint and first junior high dances. Since it doesn't so much represent the person you are as the person you've become. But even though their isn't a line separating those who bullied and those who were bullied I still think you can see the stripe in people's character. Because when someone is bullied it's not just the magenta magic school bus sweatshirt that is being made fun of it's the most weakest part of them that is being exploited. Targeting someone on their looks, or their possessions, or simply their personality is attacking their most vulnerable side because it is something that is specific to them, something that makes them an individual, something they are helpless to change. Even though being bullied wasn't one of my most shining moments I think it has been solidified as an integral bone in my body. Being bullied makes you more sensitive, more insightful and more perceptive to other people's weaknesses. When we're in the boardroom there isn't going to be a scarlet letter attached to the former bullies since it doesn't represent who they are now. But I like to think that part of us will be able to tell who was bullied, that something in their antibodies will trigger a self recognition in their fellow underdogs. If not, a bad reaction to magenta sweatshirts and frizzy hair will certainly tip us off.

A Grunt is Worth a Thousand Words

I've learned a lot of things from my dad. Inadvertently he taught me some of my most valuable life lessons, things such as how to properly combine colors in an outfit (my dad can pull off pastels like no other), how to iron your pants to perfection and how to make the perfect omelet. But I think the most important lesson he taught me was the power of the grunt (his lessons on how to be good person comes in as a close second on my list). The grunt is an integral part of the human language, used at the dawn of time by caveman and still used in conversations today. Yet the grunt that I am referring to is not the barbaric gurgle of yonder, it is a tool of civilized restraint, a tool that I feel is underutilized in today's invasive society.

My dad has always been the soft spoken type, using words sparingly and only when appropriate. When you ask my father a question there is not guarantee that you will receive an answer, most of the times you receive a murmur or a grunt as a response. I think it is due my dad's laconic nature that he is often viewed as slightly intimidating, since his air of indifference and coolness are in sharp contrast with most people's neediness to talk (albeit mostly about themselves) with other people . Due to the fact I have not inherited my father's deep throaty voice or a mustache (thankfully) I have found other ways to acquired his swagger of mystery. This is where my discovery of the inscrutable grunt began.

Now think about it, how incredible it would be if you could forgo any uneasy question with just a whirl of sound? In today's intrusive society people ask questions that step over the line of privacy. As someone with a sharing problem (includes objects and information) there are certain things that I just would rather to keep to myself. But if I say this as a response to a pushy question half the time I end up looking like some type of tight lipped freak show. Which is why I whip out the age old, never obsolete grunt. These are just some of the scenarios where the grunt can be useful"
Q. How old are you?
A. You know around...mmh.
Q.What did you get on that Calc exam?
A. Ah I think a got a mmmmh.

Now the grunt takes some practice, at first people might just think you are severely hungry and have just spotted something delicious. But when perfected, the grunt is an invaluable tool of circumspect speech. In age that glorifies magazines that reveal every aspect of a celebrity's life and in age that finds it acceptable to stalk other people's news feeds sometimes you just need to keep some things for yourself. Not to mention when you use less words people take the words you do say more seriously With the grunt you become a bit more alluring, acquiring a mystique that keeps people guessing and wondering about you. I plan to employ the grunt in many of my future conversations because everyone needs a bit a silence once in a while.

Exam Time is Among Us

Which is severely going to cut into my nap time.
The sacrifices I make, I swear
This is Sparta anyone?

Naps:

Because being conscience just isn't as fun
Photo: "Le lit" by Toulouse Lautrec

The Sharpest Tool in the Shed

I have been reckless in my use, perhaps even addicted. It’s quite disturbing actually. I try to find any reason to slip it into my daily life, filling the needles of my conversation with it, injecting it into the ending of every punch line. But alas, I just cannot stop using, using the word tool that is. It strikes that intangible balance of articulacy, straddling between the lake of coherence and the cliff of irreverence. Certain words encompasses more than just a definition, they cover a set of tendencies, a mindset and in the best cases aid in a plethora of insults/ridicule. Though these merits do not justify the overdose of my favorite noun it does shed light on the cause of my addiction. It is the felicitous nature of the word. But mostly it is the word’s equilibrium, the fact that it is funny enough to be mean and mean enough to be funny. Now the pleasure I derive in using this word may make me acerbic and sardonic. But these are symptoms I’m willing to live with. It’s my vice after all.

The Proper Way to Use/Identify a Tool is When You See (Male version)….
1. Anyone with beach blond tips
2. Typically anyone who hosts a dancing/singing competition show
3. Anyone who whitens their teeth in combination with a spray tan
4. Anyone who walks down an escalator. I mean if you really were in rush just use the stairs, no need to make the actual lazy people move out of their way for you,
5. Anyone who uses raises their eyebrows and/or thumbs up too much, particularly as an alternative to words
6. Anyone who strategically places the Da Vinci Code on their coffee table. We all know you never read it.
7. Anyone who shaves and deliberately leaves a chin beard. There is no need to sculpt your facial hair, it is not a Bonsai plant.

It's Peanut Butter and Jelly Time!

I never quite understand the mystical healing powers of a dancing banana until I came across this video. I still don't really get what a dancing banana has to do with peanut butter jelly but I guess a dancing jar of Peanut Butter just wouldn't be as funny or as therapeutic.

Better than your Lover

He’s better than your lover, more insightful than your psychologist and a clairvoyant whose talents exceeds those of your pedestrian psychic. He’s knows what you lust for, what vulnerabilities you hide in the deception of your limbs and what your thinking, what you want even before you do. He can be none other than your sartorial soul mate, also known as your favorite designer. Alber Elbaz certainly knows what I want before I do because my wants always seems to be sauntering down his runway. His Fall 09 collection was elegant with something almost industrial about it. Almost as if he had weaved something savage in the lining of the dresses. In my opinion it’s just what our recession needs: investment pieces that have a touch of a mechanized strength. His biased cuts seems to embrace the body, protecting them from brutalities while the luscious materials leave them with a bit of vulnerability. Now tell me what lover/psychologist/psychic can do that?

Roses for the centerpiece (of your outfit of course)

They say that beauty without virtue is like a rose without a scent. Well this Olivia Rose Collection necklace has both the beauty and the virtue of being surprising affordable for its handmaid and heirloom quality. Plus it's a lot more practical than a crystal vase and bowl of fake oranges.