Reverb 11, December Thirty-First

Encapsulate your hopes for the year 2012 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word.

Open.  I want this to be the year I open up my life - to new people, new experiences, new places.  I want this to be the year I share more of myself.


Wish me luck, my friends, and Happy New Year!

Reverb 11, December Thirtieth

What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today. 

It's time to move out.  It's actually past time to move out.  I've had some setbacks over the past few years, but as soon as I got this job and got back into school I knew my time was coming.  As often as I'm gone, as expensive as rent in Los Angeles can get, I'm making it my business to be out of this house by this time next year.  Aside from my twin needs of space and privacy, I need space and privacy.  The physical and the psychological.


When I get it?  Free, happy, and blissful are but the beginning.  My self-perception will alter.  In ways it shouldn't, perhaps; I suspect I'll feel things about myself I should be feeling already.  In fact, I know that - my therapist keeps telling me so.

I'm already trying to generate that feeling internally.  Nothing seems to work - there's only so much I can change about the way I see myself and my place in the world...without actually changing myself and my place in the world.

I've started looking at my job as a part of my career.  I take pride in my work.  I'm trying to take more pride in my studies. I could think of six other things, but the sense of bliss, freedom, and happiness I'm looking for will absolutely come well in advance of the keys to my own place if only I can develop greater patience.  That will help me take more pride in all of my work, in my place in the world.

That's fighting a psychological habit of years.  Impatience is sort of a hallmark of mine.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Ninth

What makes you squirm, looking back at 2011? Write about a moment in which you were uncomfortable, out of your comfort zone, or caught off-guard. Why was it so awkward?

Here's the thing - each of the moments I'm thinking of involve other people, and writing in any detail about those moments seems inappropriate.

These conversations required me to be more mature than I'm used to.  During one conversation, I was quite firmly the adult.  I can do this professionally without batting an eyelash, but for some reason bringing that forthright maturity and authority into my personal life has been difficult in some ways.  The specific form of maturity to which I refer involves speaking the hard truths to people who don't want to hear them, and running the risk of their disapproval (or worse).  I'm learning to speak them to myself; I should show my loved ones the same courtesy.

There's a difference, you know, between rigorous honesty and brutal honesty.  Rigorous honesty means being honest, even when it hurts me, or makes me uncomfortable.  Brutal honesty means being honest, even when it hurts or makes uncomfortable the person with whom I'm being honest.  My comfort zone is breached when I'm not sure which is which - an extreme rarity for me.

Worse is when I know what I'm saying will fall upon deaf ears, or meet with worse than disapproval, and my concept of what it means to love requires me to open my fool mouth anyway.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Eighth

Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)

 Dear 2012 Dash: buckle down, get it done, sure, but also have fun.  Push your limits.  Meet new people.  Toward the end of a long journey, it's natural to get focused on the destination - but keep in mind how many fascinating side-trips and discoveries are missed because of target fixation.  Broaden your perspective.  Believing in yourself a skosh more wouldn't hurt either.


Dear 2001 Dash: quit drinking.  Quit the weed, too.  Maybe get a little more focused on the destination; if you ignore it completely, you'll never get there.  Don't be so afraid to be yourself while you figure out who that is.  And even if you ignore every word of this, heed these two things: I love you, and it'll all be okay.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Seventh

You talked about ambitions earlier in the month. When it comes to ambitions and aspirations, it’s not about ideas. It’s about making ideas happen. What’s your next step?

 I'll let you know what happens Saturday, but other next steps include being willing to take advantage of available opportunities.  I've always been decent at scoping out those opportunities - although I could further develop that skill as well, I really need to get better at following through.


So.  In addition to finding opportunities to sing (and perhaps act), I need to take advantage of those opportunities.  I need to take bigger risks.  I have some good reasons for why I haven't so far - but I need to stretch my limits if I intend to grow any further.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Sixth

What do you want to try next year? Is there something you wanted to try in 2010? What happened when you did / didn’t go for it?

This year, I had a plan to build my own computer.  It was gonna be awesome, and run TOR much better than my laptop. (Gaming-wise, I've had a one-track mind for a while now.) I could keep said laptop for my travels, and work on a much faster unit at home.  Fear stopped me: what if I blow the assembly and fry a component or something?  That's too much money lost, even if building from scratch is considerably cheaper than buying out of a box.


I kept this plan on the back burner.  When Papa Sherrell asked me what I wanted for Christmas (on Friday, mind you), I said "Actually, nothing.  There's nothing I want that I don't plan to get myself."  I expressed myself this clearly because my derp of a sister bought exactly the video game that I had purchased as her Christmas present.  (She got an IOU for the game of her choice instead.)  I honestly didn't expect the folks to drop that much money on a gift for ol' Dash - they haven't since early college years.  And why should they?  For me these days, Christmas is more about the giving than the getting.

(If I say so myself, I did some pretty awesome giving this year - the fact that there are two copies of Saints' Row: The Third in the house is evidence of that.)

I was humbled and shocked to see a similar IOU among my presents: good for one computer.  I'd actually discussed my DIY plan with Dad a while back, but he seconded my fears - we're going with out-of-a-box.


Building my own still seems like a fun thing to try, and I've heard it's fairly easy to do.  Perhaps somewhere down the line, maybe when the New Hotness needs an upgrade, I'll revisit the idea.  Hopefully by then, the financial commitment won't feel like as much of a risk.


That won't be next year, of course, but someday.  It's always good to try new things.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Fifth

Merry Happy, everybody.

What surprised you in 2011? Did you do something unexpected? Or perhaps some life event/milestone snuck up on you? How did you handle it? How did it turn out?

My good friend Melissa - one of my favorite people walking the planet - was visiting Los Angeles earlier this year.  I stole her away from her friends for a few hours, and although we didn't do much, we did plenty of talking.  Melissa and I were in a production of West Side Story a dog's age ago, and while I was reminiscing about that, I realized - it's been a decade since I was in a production of any kind.  Oh, I've had scenework in acting class since, but it's not the same.  Even though I know how old I am, and how old I was when I sported a Puerto Rican accent and answered to Bernardo, the realization caught me off guard.

I handled it like I handle all such realizations: I resolved to do something about it, and then I forgot about it as soon as the motivating frustration passed.  Fortunately, the Force gave me another little nudge last week in the form of lunch with my buddy Chris, and this time I actually took the hint.  We'll see how it turns out; you'll be the second to know.

Did I do something unexpected?  Not to me.  I haven't behaved out of character in a manner that surprises me all year.  You could ask the others in my life, although I expect they'd tell you the same.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Fourth

This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What’s the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year?

Our way is to be light during sensitive moments.  To be carefully casual with expressions of our emotion, our loyalty.  It's odd that that's our way, because Dustin and I are not normally restrained in the expression of our emotions - nor are we restrained in any other way, now that I think about it.  Especially when we're together.  But...that's our way with each other.


So the most memorable gift I've been given this year comes as a by-product of a conversation about another friend's wedding.  I was sitting around the couch with D and Nicole, discussing plans for Fred's wedding versus the planning of their own. Dustin tossed out: "For example: you're gonna be the best man at our wedding, and..." It was an aside, secondary to the point he was actually making; I responded in kind, as a matter of course - because that's our way.  We both knew that was a moment.  It may have been pro forma - I was rather hoping to be so named, and maybe a little bit expecting it.  But it was still a moment, a reveal, and both Dustin and I love a good reveal.  This one lacked all ceremony, and yet I can't imagine it coming in any other way.


However casual the moment may have been - or may have appeared to be - it was a big one for me, and the most memorable gift I received this year.  Now I just have to come up with a good toast - I'll probably have a solid rough draft by July...probably.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Third

First of all, an update: I have an opportunity to act next week.  Last week, I had lunch with an old buddy from acting class.  He asked if I'd like to throw my name in the hat for this really interesting experience happening on New Year's Eve.  Since I haven't been to a typical NYE party in years, I figured - sounds like fun.  It also sounds, whether I actually get up on stage or not, like a good way to meet some new people.  Cross your fingers that I get on stage, but I'm proud of myself for the acts of saying "yes" when my buddy asked, and of not backing out when I got the follow-up email from the director a few minutes ago.  (And yeah, not doing something is an act when it requires a conscious exertion of will to achieve.)  So.  Good for me, for not waiting until 2012 to make some of the changes revealed as necessary by this month's musings.

What central story is at the core of you, and how do you share it with the world? (Bonus: Consider your reflections from this month. Look through them to discover a thread you may not have noticed until today.)

Sometimes I wonder if I do share my central narrative with the world, or if I reserve it for the people I know won't judge me too harshly.

When I ask myself what that narrative is, I always leap to the theme of triumph over - and failure to triumph over - adversity.  I start thinking of my main challenges, how they have shaped my life and personality, and the different ways I have confronted or attempted to escape them.  But there is so much more.  Let's try this:


I'm a kid (still true) who has significant challenges.  Most of the time, I face them, account for them, and overcome them.  For a significant period of my life, however, I attempted to escape those challenges by a number of means devised to prove my "normalcy," my similarity to my peers.  (Mainly, this involved frequent consumption of large doses of psychoactive substances.)  When this strategy failed, as it always must, I adapted and found new methods of confronting my challenges.


All along the journey, I have prized music.  I love to entertain others, but I also value the ability to sing well as a fundamental part of me - if I can't sing, I feel less myself.  I have been singing since before I could speak any coherent English (not an exaggeration). I prize laughter equally; my sense of humor, and my occasional ability to share it with others, is a key method of communication.  When things have been at their darkest, I reach for music and laughter to shed some light.


Dark or light, I seek to help people.  Every dream I've ever had for myself, as far back as age eight when I asked what a Hollywood Liberal was, included some way for me to help other people.


I'm not a grown-up yet; I know that.  I intend to hold on to childlike things, but I am still in the process of shedding childish things.


I am a student of people: their thoughts and feelings, their motivations and their workings.  I've studied people as individuals and as groups; although I've elected the former as a career path, both studies are equally fascinating to me.




Not much of a story, but then it's still being written.  When I look at it in this form, I realize that any time I interact with people, I share some piece of myself.  I may hold back specifics, especially when I'm meeting new people, but the essence of me is always there: I'm a caring person who loves to laugh and sing, and who has been through some things in life.  I used to think that last thing was an isolating factor; now I recognize it as the opposite, and often use those challenges to connect with others.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-Second

In 2011, what wrongs (big or small) did you attempt to right? How did you help make the world a better place? Why did you do it?

So, here's the thing I don't talk much about: what, exactly, I do.  Most of you know that I provide substance-abuse prevention.  If you're anything like I still am, the phrase "substance abuse prevention" makes you think of lectures, directives, and scare tactics.  The lectures made us curious, the directives made us rebellious, and the scare tactics made us mistrustful.  That sort of prevention has been proven to be...not the most useful.  In time, I expect it to be proven worse than useless.

I teach, I don't lecture.  I issue no directives of any sort. Instead of using scare tactics, I talk about my own experiences to highlight the concerns of adolescent substance abuse.  As prevention specialists, we focus in on their brain development as the thing that needs protecting above all else. We know now that a brain exposed to addictive substances before it's fully matured (somewhere in the mid-20s) is multiple times more vulnerable to addiction than a brain that remains unexposed until maturity.  Genetic predisposition remains the chief risk factor for addiction; age of first use is a close second.  We teach these factors, so that kids will have an accurate method of assessing risks and determining which risks they'll take.

This is the wrong I attempt to right: our children are woefully misinformed about the true risks of alcohol and other drug use in their youth.  No, not every teenager who has a beer every now and then is going to wind up in rehab; not every teenager who smokes a bowl is going to wind up the pothead I was at 22. But we have to gauge the risk by looking from the other direction, too: nearly every addict I've ever treated, ever known, began using drugs in adolescence.  The exceptions to this rule are nearly statistically insignificant.

We talk about how that happens.  I describe the process of becoming addicted from multiple perspectives: psychological, neurochemical, sociological.  I have a series of discussions with the kids - relying heavily on their input, their opinions and questions.  At the end of the week, I hope I've guided them to - if not a new understanding, then at least a new ability to ask the right questions.

We have done our children a disservice by normalizing teen substance abuse.  By providing accurate information, by illustrating that information with my experiences, by putting a human face on addiction and personalizing the disease, I'm helping to put that sad disservice to rights.

...Okay, "disservice" is not fair.  What we know about brain development, what we know about addiction, and what we know about the true addictive potential of certain drugs (I'm looking at you, THC) is extremely recent information. The best research is decades old, and the history of human substance use predates the written record; we've got an uphill struggle if the goal is to change what it means to be a teenager who uses a drug.  That's an educational process that takes place at the generational level: we educate this generation better, they educate their kids better, and so on.  It's a big job, but I'm doing my part.

If I can get one kid every week to look askance at what she's been told, the rumors she believes, I've done my job.  Someday, I'll go into greater depth about how the social norms perspective aids our educational process; for now, I'll just say that sending teenagers out into the world with a better idea of how to cope with it is my job, and I know that makes the world a better place.

What I do is complicated, on more than one level - I'm a substance abuse prevention specialist who never says "Don't do drugs."  I leave it to the kids to make their own decisions, but only after I'm comfortable that they're dedicated to making an informed decision and understand how important the decision is.

Why I do it is not complicated at all. For one, I wish someone had been there to do the same for me.  I don't know that it would have stopped me from drinking, but I believe I would have recognized the signs of addiction far earlier than I did.  (Since, y'know, I didn't recognize them until I was already in rehab.)  Second, I've seen the ravages of addiction on too many lives - my own, in some ways, least of all. I believe with my whole heart that the best place to start trying to mitigate that damage is in the perceptions of children who have yet to consume an addictive substance.

I could write about my job every day for a week and not fully explain what I do and what it means to me.  The privilege is often overwhelming; the responsibility never is.

Reverb 11, December Twenty-First

Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.

My first solo assignment was early this semester, at a new client school in Nepal.  I felt duty-bound to give them my 110% A-game. I always try to give the clients everything they need and are looking for, but I felt a particular burden with this client - after all, as a brand-new client, they wouldn't necessarily know what to look for or ask.  It was up to me not just to have the answers, but to find the right questions as well.

I know I've been fairly obtuse with you all about what I do; I'll save the deeper explanation for the next post.  Suffice it to say for this one that adult education is a part of what I do, and I did it fairly well at this school.  Well enough, in fact, that the office asked me to recreate one of my presentations during our annual training week.


I put a great deal of work into that 40-minute session, and I was rewarded with the acknowledgment and praise of my peers.  The word of the year is "appreciation." The appreciation I was shown in that moment did the best two things it possibly could have: it went straight to my heart, and it didn't go to my head.  That moment was the product of hard work; it showed me how much more hard work I have to do to demonstrate continuing excellence and growth in my profession.  I'm blessed: I happen to enjoy this profession so much that even the work is a little fun.


If there's anything better than doing what you love and being paid for it, it's doing what you love well and being paid and praised for it.  I don't need this much recognition (although it does have a direct impact on how often I work), but I cherish it when it comes.

Reverb 11, December Twentieth

Happy Launch Day, TOR.

Our most profound joy is often experienced during ordinary moments. What was one of your most joyful ordinary moments this year?

My most joyful ordinary moments happen while sitting around with the Horsemen, like we used to do. Like we always will.  Ian, Dustin, Fred and I have only all been in the same space at the same time once this year, at Fred's wedding - but I've been able to see each of them plenty of times.


Each time brings me a quiet pleasure, no matter what's actually going on in the moment.  These are the men who know who I am, around whom I never have need of pretense or professionalism or decorum of any sort.  (Or, really, maturity.)  Silences are never awkward - well, there are hardly ever silences.


My favorite of these moments from this year was just before Freddy's wedding.  Dustin and Nicole (his fiancee...) stopped by the house late one night that week.  We spoke of things, but the things themselves are immaterial to the peace I felt...right alongside the tear-jerking, uncontrollable gales of laughter that ever accompany us.

We're more spread out now than we have ever been - it's up to me to make sure I find those moments a few times each year.


There are other moments, but I figure you're all tired of hearing me talk about singing.

Reverb 11, December Nineteenth

Sift through all the photos of you from the past year. Choose one that best captures you; either who you are, or who you strive to be. Find the shot of you that is worth a thousand words. Share the image, who shot it, where, and what it best reveals about you.

Okay.

A buddy from college said this was the best impression of Dr. Cornel West he'd ever seen.  I think he's referring to the expression on my face and my posture, rather than any particular physical resemblance (my hair is not nearly crazy enough).  I actually think I look kinda like my dad (whose hair is even less crazy).


This is me, somewhere between who I've been and who I want to be.  The picture was taken at my friend Kelly's wedding in Philly this past May, by another good friend from college. 

I don't particularly like being photographed - I have never found myself very attractive or appealing to look at - so when I pose for pictures, I usually put on a face. Rarely have I just let someone take a picture of me, as I am, in the moment.  This was one of those times. My guard was down - I was too busy enjoying myself and trying not to get too maudlin to put the mask back on when the camera came out.  So I just looked at my friend, and gave him my patented "Really? Seriously?" look.


The sort of bemused humor in my expression is how I try to greet the world these days.  If you know me, you can see me in the look.  If you don't know me, this picture gives a pretty good introduction/clue.

But such things aren't really about what the subject sees in the picture - they're about what the viewer beholds in the subject.  So even if you see something different than I do: I figure this picture gives the best chance of whatever you see still being some part of my personality.

Reverb 11, December Eighteenth

What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

I think the wisest decisions I've made all year had to do with accepting things as they are; specifically, accepting people and the things they say/do.


In my experience, that acceptance isn't always the wisest course. If a loved one does something that truly worries or upsets me, I consider intervening an act of honesty and of that love.

Regarding more distant acquaintances, shutting my mouth has been the best plan more than once this year.  Knowing that doesn't take much; doing it was considerably harder.  Doing it, and not spending the next few weeks stewing over it - that's wisdom, and it's a new skill.


See, I'm fully capable of shutting my mouth over stuff, even when it's hard.  But when I had to do that in the past, I turned my resentment inward and drove myself crazier than if I'd gone ahead and voiced my objections.  These days, I'm able to shut my mouth and find peace on the subject, through acceptance of things and people as they are.


That guy who said that thing about me that time?  He doesn't know me; all he has is his frame of reference and an injudicious tongue.  Maybe he'll change his mind if he gets to know me better, maybe not; I can't spend my days and nights worrying about it.

"Resentment," it is said, "is like taking a poison and expecting someone else to get sick."  I consider acceptance to be a sort of antidote; I take it as soon as possible.  Perhaps someday, I won't feel the resentment in the first place.

Reverb 11, December Seventeenth

What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it? What do you hope to make in 2012?

I have a fairly impressive vocal range.  It's not what it used to be, but I can still sing soprano if I have to - especially if I don't need it to be too pretty.  Occasionally, I use that range to record some of my favorite pieces from the various choirs I've been in over the course of my life.  I started off with a cappella; lately, I've added piano and laid down some of the gospel music from my church days.  All it takes is some software on my laptop and the USB mic that came with Rock Band.


The songs are nowhere near good enough to play for anyone but myself.  (My mother has them, but I only gave them to her because she wouldn't stop asking.)  This is harder than my usual deal.  Laying down 16 tracks of me singing over me singing, trying to keep in tune the whole time...it's harder than being in the moment and tuning with 15 other people in the same room.


I do this for me; it's my outlet, although I haven't done it in a few months.  There are a handful of songs sitting on my laptop waiting for me to finish them - maybe if I find some time and the inclination over the holidays.


I'm no good at crafts, and I can't draw.  But this is a viable hobby, especially if I can get better at it over time.  Mostly, the thing lacking is patience.  If I didn't settle for less than aces on a single lick, I could turn out product worth playing for someone else.  So there's a goal for 2012.

Reverb 11, December Sixteenth

How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? What will you do in 2012 to keep your sense of wonder alive/not become complacent in your surroundings?

Here's another thing my job makes easy, and not just because of all the travel to new and amazing places.

In tenth grade, we got a new principal.  When he came to our class meeting to introduce himself, he told us that "sophomore" was a portmanteau of "sophisticated moron."  (I fell in love right then and there - even as a teenager, I knew it took smarts to walk into a room of nearly 80 teenagers and call them morons, then leave them feeling complimented.) In so doing, he actually defined "sophomoric" as implying more sophistication than it really does.  He also insinuated that our assumption of sophistication had actually imparted some to us.  In retrospect, that was an awfully kind assessment of our maturity level.

As I watch kid after kid caught in the throes of violent adolescence, I find myself trying to emulate that principal. I am quite forgiving and accepting of my students. Not just because it makes for a dynamic classroom, not just because it's easier to challenge their assumptions obliquely than to confront them head-on; I allow them their false sense of their own maturity because I sense what lurks beneath it.  As long as they feel confident that I'm buying into their "whatever" face, they'll greedily soak up all sorts of information - until they remember to tell me, "Oh I already knew that."


Every now and then, though, the facade drops - and a teenager lets me see the light of realization come on in their eyes.  Susie just connected a pair of dots that had previously been in completely separate orbits to her, and the connection shifted the way she sees the world just a little bit. Together, we opened up just enough of a crack to let a little more light through.

The younger they are, the less guarded they are about these Eureka moments, and that is one reason I love working with middle school kids.  But the older the students, the more I prize these moments - because the older they are, the harder these moments are to achieve.  In either case - 12 or 17, wide-eyed or desperately "jaded" - these moments provide a vicarious sense of discovery for me.  I never forget what those moments are like, because I'm never far away from the last one.  The best part of my job is: I'm never far away from the next one, either.

Reverb 11, December Fifteenth

What are some things/ideas/people/phrases/ words you hope will stay in 2011? What are some things/ideas/people/phrases/words you hope to hear more of in 2012?

I am so sick of "Winning."  I always kind of hate it when a fad takes an innocuous word and renders it obnoxious. ("Obnoccuous?"  "Innoxious?" Nah.)  But this one found my nerves and grated on them from Sheen Day One.

(A "Sheen Day" is an immeasurable unit of time.  It is immeasurable because it's never quite as long as it feels like it's been, and always longer than it should have been.  It is therefore difficult to get a grip on how much time has actually passed, since that self-important bag of damaged goods in dire need of help first realized he could capitalize on his total unlikeability.)


I would like OWS to continue and grow.  Don't stop harassing the moneybags.  It's not enough yet - the impact is not meaningful enough.  It's odd; OWS has sort of taken a page from the Tea Party Handbook (not their playbook, but the book the Tea Party wants you to think is their playbook, if you understand).  They're leaderless, and they have no specific agenda.  They are "against" stuff, but not "for" much.  If that's your play, you need to agitate loudly and consistently for more than a few months to drum up any change.  The sleeping dragon of the diminishing middle class does need to hear the simple message, and they have.  But they need to hear it until it becomes a voice in their head that won't shut up.  That's when they'll start to think "Well, this is a problem, but what can be done about it?" and come up with the next steps both on their own and en masse.  An idea that is simultaneously awakened in thousands of individual minds is nearly impossible to extinguish...as we've seen, since there are several such ideas that need extinguishing.


I am not excited for Election 2012.  I want My President (who, despite my objections to many of his decisions, is still So My President) to step up and knock a few progressive long balls home. (What's with me and sports metaphors tonight? I dunno.)  If he could do that, I would be a happier human being.  In the meantime, I am waiting to see what Dems decide to run against him.  I'm entertaining myself by watching the GOP circus, with an airsick bag nearby in case it gets to be too much.  Speaking of which, here are a few more things best left in 2011 (that won't be): Michelle Bachmann, Sarah Palin, Newt Gingrich's Second Chance, and Mitt Romney.


Wait, that leaves Rick Perry, whom I need around for comic relief but not as a legitimate political entity.  Okay, '12, you can have Mitt Romney, but you have to promise not to elect him.

Reverb 11, December Fourteenth

What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it?

Kinda shot myself in the foot for this one back on the First, didn't I?


Of what remains - of what I have not already addressed - the thing I appreciate most is the Internet.  I am of the last generation to remember vividly what life was like before we could take the Internet for granted.  Here in the "First" World, anyway - which, if you think about it, is really the Last (or at least the Most Recent) World - but I digress. Often, I remember to be grateful for the advent of the Internet; I guess I'm feeling it today.  (The Old Republic has nothing to do with that, I'm sure...)

Without it, I could not travel the world and be a full-time student; old-school correspondence courses required days at least for the back-and-forth of materials. It's helping me accomplish all of my goals simultaneously, instead of having to wrap up the school thing before beginning my professional life.


As I mentioned a few days ago, I have also come to rely on Internet sources for my sense of community.  This is actually a problem; more than many, I am aware of the need for direct interpersonal communication and contact.  Still, since I'd be completely isolated without it, I'm grateful to the Internet for the ability to simulate community while I'm too cowardly to get out there and find one for myself.  (You could argue that this simulation is keeping me anesthetized, thus depriving me of the impetus I'd need to overcome my cowardice; I know myself better than that.  I'd just be suffering.)


It's bolstered my recovery.  Since rest is so important on the road, and I don't make it to many meetings, it's absolutely key that I be able to reach my sponsor when the need arises.  The need arose more than once during my first month on the road this semester.  In the first week alone, his calming influence prevented me from firing off one or two angry emails that really didn't need sending.


How do I express my gratitude?  To the Internet?  I suppose I could gin up some Lolcats or something - nothing like a good meme to show the 'net you care.  Or I could just keep leaving pieces of myself like this blog scattered about the place, so that someday when the Internet bootstraps itself to sentience, it can read my musings and say, "You're welcome, Dash.  Also: you may live."

Reverb 11, December 13

What stuck with you? In 2011, what book that you read, film that you saw, song that you heard (or whatever is your preferred sensory experience) really stuck with you? The kind of thing where you keep thinking about it.

Let's see.  I was really excited to see Hanna, which disappointed me (not because it wasn't as good as I expected, but because it was exactly as good - and far too truncated at the end).  Haven't had any live musical experiences this year (except for catching the middle school chamber orchestra's teaser performance at an assembly in Salt Lake last week).  Haven't read anything incredible this year, although everyone in Mumbai recommended Shantaram.  As much as there is TV programming that entertains, I don't know if any of it "really stuck with" me, which leaves....

Arkham City.

Visually stunning, good plot, gameplay that's easy to manage but difficult to master, great DLC.  I do wish I could explore the sandbox as Nightwing or Robin, but I'll take the challenge maps. (And the Batman skins - playing as a Frank Miller Batman just had to happen.) Using Kevin Conroy and Mark Hamill for the voice acting was, as with Arkham Asylum, a stroke of genius.  As sequels go, this one upped the ante appropriately; I actually enjoyed it a bit more than the original.

Now that Star Wars: The Old Republic is out (and I've got early game access - the only reason you're getting this post now is because the client is patching), I probably won't get much of a chance to revisit Arkham City - so I'm glad that the experience will stay with me for a while.  Good game, Rocksteady.  Good game.

Save us, George Lakoff! Part II - Black is White

And now we come to the part of this meshugas that makes me want to find Rick Perry and give him a brass-knuckled nut-punch stern lecture:  "...our kids can't openly celebrate Christmas, or pray in schools.  As President, I'll end Obama's war on religion, and I'll fight against liberal attacks on our religious heritage."

By the heavy hammer of Thor, I don't even know where to begin.

Our kids can celebrate Christmas, with resistance from exactly nobody (this factoid to be filed in the category of "Duh").  What some of you might not know: they can also pray in schools.  In fact, their right to pray in school is Constitutionally protected and upheld by the courts.  School-sponsored prayer, in public school, has been banned.  Timmy can go off and pray anytime he wants to, but his teacher cannot force everyone to recite the Lord's Prayer - and vive la difference.  Not, however, according to Rick Perry.  According to the Governor, if Timmy so much as folds his hands, his teacher is required by the Obama Administration to pry them apart (probably with red-hot pliers).

This is but the latest in a long line of similar misrepresentations, symptomatic of a Conservative stranglehold on the language of political debate in America.  This stranglehold represents a simple strategy: control the language of debate in order to control all possible outcomes of the debate. One tactic that falls under this strategic heading is to conflate religious freedom and religious oppression.

Protecting the rights of some people to express their beliefs does not necessarily mean denying those same rights to other people; religious freedom is not a zero-sum game.  If you confront that notion head-on, doesn't it seem a bit self-explanatory?  Religious freedom means...religious freedom.  Perry wants you to believe it means catering to everyone else, to the detriment of all American Christendom. He has to sell it to you that way; otherwise, he'd get no traction on this issue.

See, most people aren't against "religious freedom."  This ad is aimed at the majority of the American voting public, and we believe in our collective heart of hearts in the singular principle of the most freedom possible for the most people possible.  We may quibble at times over what that means (yep, Civil War, Women's Suffrage, Civil Rights Movement = "quibbles"), but we are a nation of epicureans, irrespective of political leaning.

Witness the beauty of selecting a Christian holiday with secular appeal: we support religious freedom, but nobody wants to be against Christmas.  That stirs up images of imprisoning the fat guy in the red suit for the diabolical crime of bringing annual joy to rosy-cheeked younglings.  Even people who have never and will never celebrate Christmas don't want that.  But here comes the Texan Governor, telling you that our sitting President wants exactly that.  It's almost transparent in its childishness, once you look at it straight on: "Barack Obama hates Santa Claus."  Yet it is also a move of political jujitsu worthy of a true Master: "Freedom for Them Means Oppression for Us."

Freedom is Oppression.  Geez.  Darkseid called; he wants his playbook back.


The whole thing is disingenuous, especially since it's election season.  Y'know, that special time in America when the GOP goes out of its way and off-message in order to be as inclusive as possible to all the Godless heathens pretty swing voters who might be persuaded to side against their own interests.  Meanwhile, Rick Perry is all "Onward Christian Soldiers," calling to his fading banner anyone whose fears he can annex for his own ends.


This is not new.  Remember the debate on affirmative action?  It didn't give rise to the phrase "reverse racism," but it certainly made efficient use thereof.  The tactic: conflate racial equality with racism. Affirmative action seeks to redress the structural inequalities inherent in a nation that granted citizenship to Black Americans 90 years after almost everyone else - guaranteed their civil rights 100 years after that - and still doesn't educate, employ or pay them equally.  But put that central objective through this Conservative spin cycle, and you come out with: "Affirmative action denies opportunities to hard-working Americans."  ("Hard-working" == White, and therefore =/= Black.)  Here's another Master-level move: making the message "Equality for Them Diminishes Us" not sound virulently racist.


I think you get the point.  Freedom is Oppression, Equality is Racism, Up is Down, Black is White.  It's got to be the most offensive weapon in the Conservative arsenal - if it's not, please tell me what is so that I can go into a gamma-irradiated rage over that instead.



"...Obama's war on religion..." it's Obama's war because Rick Perry is running against Barack Obama - but if this debate was a person, it'd be putting off retirement yet another five years and wishing someone would fund Social Security after all.  This debate is older than Barack Obama - the first legal challenge to school-sponsored prayer was brought in New York in 1959.  Our President is a hale and hearty 50.


"...liberal attacks on our religious heritage."  What, exactly, is "our" religious heritage?  Yes, yes, the Pilgrims and the Puritans - who, by the way, fled persecution, got here, immediately turned around and started persecutin' folks.  What about the long history of the Jews in America, which also has its origins in the Colonial era - does that count? I'm thinking, not to Rick Perry. Anything he could mean by "our religious heritage" must be like a horrible, horrible Magic Eye painting: the longer you look at it, the more it resolves itself into an image of intolerance and ignorance.  The Founding Fathers, whatever their flaws, expressly did not wish a national religion - however you interpret the principle of separation of church and state, it meant at least that much. If liberals are attacking Rick Perry's apparent intention to institute legal protections for Christianity that do not exist for other religions, then they have legal and historic basis for doing so.



"Faith made America strong.  It can make her strong again."  And we're back to Freedom is Oppression, but with a new twist.  See now, how people who are not Christian don't even get to lay claim to the possession of faith?  Add another one to the pile: "Religion (That is not Our Religion) is Faithlessness."  This at least has the benefit of being an ancient hypocrisy, but I think even the most dogmatic adherents to every major world religion would agree that their counterparts believe in something.  Many of them believe in something that is not substantiated by verifiable evidence.  I think that qualifies as "faith," Governor.

Whew. Done.

So that's deconstruction by Dash Stryker, Polemics 'R' Us.  Here's the bottom line: we have got to stop letting Conservatives control the dialogue.  Rick Perry's "Strong" ad is nothing more than an exemplar, a reductio ad nauseam of the entire political debate in the United States.  Who decided that the antithesis of "pro-choice" was "pro-life?"  When did "liberal" become an acceptable insult?  The language is unacceptable; we accept it anyway, because we have to use something in our arguments.  It's like the kid along the parade route tried to convince everyone of the Emperor's nudity by saying "His clothes are silver, not gold!"  That's about how effective liberal politicians will remain unless they wrest control of the dialogue back from Darkseid's minions Newt, O'Reilly and the gang.  Unless they skip the step of saying, "Hell yes, I'm a liberal, and proud of it," and get about the business of being unapologetic liberals.  Unless I start hearing the phrase "anti-choice" every time someone has to defend Roe v. Wade.

Rick Perry is a smirking buffoon, trotted out to draw our fire while the real bad guys run out and activate the political minefield ahead of us.  His tactics are not new; they are not his.  They belong to Barry Goldwater and his ideological heirs.  It's past time we stopped objecting to the message, and started objecting to the very ground upon which the message rests.

I said, "Save us, George Lakoff!"  We really need Bruno Gianelli.

Save us, George Lakoff! Part I - Beware the Gays

Okay, so Rick Perry's latest has taken a righteous pounding from the zeitgeist that is the Internet.  And by righteous, I mean "deserved in every way, according to any possible theory of justice."  But, after several hearty laughs at the Governor's expense, one question made me take a step back.

"When did we start conflating religious freedom with religious oppression?  How on Earth did those two things become the same, even to the same people who conflate racial equality and racism?" (Okay, that's two questions, but you get the point.)

I started to wonder - what's really new here?  Is this more blatant, or any more heinous than the usual Conservative crap claptrap?  Why did this particular ad generate so much instant disgust?

Then I asked myself, What Would Lakoff Do?  He'd take it apart.  Let's do the same.  Let us be not content with our outrage, let us know whence it comes:

"I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a Christian - " wait, stop there, go no further.  This is beautiful message management, and classic Conservative positioning.  It's the declarative equivalent of "When did you last beat your wife, sir?"  Conservatives don't just manage the message with carefully-chosen euphemisms and dysphemisms (that usually descend into outright misrepresentation).  They manage the message with their presuppositions, which are always constructed with equal care.  To wit, the subtext: there are people trying to make Christians ashamed of their Christianity!  These are the same people who are - gasp! - okay with gays serving in our armed forces.

"...but you don't need to be in the pew every Sunday to know that there's something wrong in this country when gays can serve openly in the military, but our kids can't openly celebrate Christmas, or pray in schools."  Anyone trained in critical thinking recognizes this as eight pages of rhetoric packed in a 39-word phrase.  For the sake of brevity, I'll limit myself to the top five manipulations herein:

1. Non sequitur.  DADT and the First Amendment do have something to do with one another, but it's not what Rick Perry's telling you it is.
2. Scare tactic and innuendo, two Conservative classics. Juxtaposing gun-toting gays with schoolchildren = the gays are coming for your kids!
3. Proof surrogate - why is this wrong?  Because I said so!
4. Hyperbole - of course our kids are allowed to "openly" celebrate Christmas.  This is my main point, to which I shall return anon.  But there's that presupposition again, packed right and tight for you into one word - the "openly" of "openly celebrate Christmas."
5. Argument from tradition: "...when gays can serve openly in the military..." 

There's nothing new with the absurd notion that there is something so inherently wrong about "alternate" sexual identity that people who so self-identify should of course be second-class citizens.  The Judeo-Christian law upon which people base such judgments says there's something equally wrong with masturbation, oral sex, and any other sexual activity which does not lead to procreation.

(I'll leave you to consider on your own the ramifications of this, and just how many people with those sickening signs are hateful, horny, hairy-handed hypocrites.)

This is perfectly understandable (whether or not it's forgivable is up to you); the moral underpinning of that law comes from a time when humanity's survivability was in question.  Now, conversely, we are in danger of - some say, guilty of - overwhelming the available resources of an entire planet by sheer strength of numbers. Don't you think it's time some of you reevaluated your millenia-old reasoning process?

More to the point, stop demonizing people because you don't like their choice of romantic partner.  It's gauche.  You don't have to accept them as your equal - it's your right to hold as bass-ackwards a world-view as you choose.  But to insinuate, in any way, that this group of people is by their very nature a threat to the strength of this nation...it's cheap politics.  Cheap, and atavistic.

My sister, a gay Army Reservist, points out that it's also just plain stupid: "It's not like people are lining up to serve.  How is turning away a whole bunch of people who want to serve making our country stronger?"

In Part II, we come to the crux of the matter (see what I did there?), and I try not to go all Hulk Smash on my laptop.

Thanks go to Elle Deau and Fake Against the Machine for most of the links in these posts.

Reverb 11, December Twelfth

Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2011? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2012?

We moved to the San Fernando Valley in 1996; since then, the only neighbors I've known lived next door to me at Vassar.  Every year, I get a little more grateful that I grew up in a true community; even though my beliefs have changed somewhat since then, I remain grateful that I was raised in the community church.  It doesn't just take a village to raise a child, folks; it takes a village to make a home.

Junior year of college, we lived in this prefab house on the south end of campus.  As far removed as it was from the rest of campus, it was often a hub of activity for our massive group of friends.  I was always at my most peaceful when that house was packed to the gills and spilling people out onto the porch.  At least once during every such night, I would sneak off to my room for ten minutes. As peaceful as the presence of my friends made me, I still often needed a breath of air that wasn't being exhaled by someone else.  I'd sit in my chair, scan my email, and smile as I listened to the laughter and the music from down the hall; once I felt re-centered, I'd go back out and share the laughs.

Introvert though I am, I have always needed a community around me.  It's why I am Facebook-dependent.  In 2003, my Vassar community became a Vassar diaspora (if that isn't fun to say, you're mispronouncing "diaspora"); I crave the atavistic sense of connection my Facebook meanderings occasionally manage to produce.


This year, I have not discovered new community; that search is ongoing, as is the internal struggle to generate the motivation to intensify the search.  I've missed my weekly 12-Step meetings almost all semester, and AA is the only community to which I presently belong that meets in person.  (People often ask me if I find meetings when I'm on the road; I know I could, but it's just not as important to me when I'm out there as is rest.)  Now that I'm home for a while, I'm excited to get back to my home groups; less exciting, but equally necessary, is the prospect of finding new meetings so I can meet some new people.

Of course, there's the community in which I participate almost daily - if you could call us a community.  I mean, if we were all gathered in person (which must happen, folks, it must), we'd fit around a large coffee table.  I speak, natch, of my ex-Greader crew.  Emails fly to and fro daily, concerning the thoughtful and the thoughtless - the sublime and the ridiculous (WWFD?) - and every possible step in between.  I'll say it here, my friends, if I never say it again: your presence in my inbox is a major component of my sanity.


Next year, I'm hoping to find some folks to play softball with - or maybe even sing some a cappella.  I put out feelers for both over this past year, but a) I didn't look that hard, and therefore b) was not successful.  Like I said, I need to intensify the search.  And once again, the important step here is internal.

Reverb 11, December Eleventh

Health and wellness - What did you do in 2011 to improve your overall health/fitness/wellness? What unhealthy habits would you like to break in the new year? With what healthy habits would you replace them?

 Once upon a time, in the throes of my denial, I ignored my health. Defeated by the certain knowledge that my body would fail me without warning or provocation, I did nothing to guard myself against that frequent occurrence.  Worse, I hastened each occurrence. I played too hard, slept too little. I drank and smoked and otherwise defiled myself.


Time has passed; I have matured.  Still, this was the first year in over a decade that I made any precautionary effort to safeguard my health.  I did so in meager hope (that my efforts would succeed) and great fear (that my own body would mock my safeguards). This semester has been week after week of underpaid sunup-to-sundown work punctuated on both ends by grueling travel.  (And manoman, I love it.) So far, so good - I made it through without major incident.

Several minor ones remain. Last Sunday, I flew from L.A. to Salt Lake with a migraine that would not bow before any form of OTC painkiller. It persisted throughout the afternoon, into the evening and well into the night.  I had to drive with that sucker; I gritted my teeth, I wept pained tears, I drove on with what felt like an alien trying to birth itself through my left temple.  I checked into the hotel - the registration clerk must have thought I was on one, dripping sweat in the Utah freeze.  I stumbled to my room, dropped my bags, shut out every photon of light I could, and I slept.  Monday morning, you bet your ass I got mine up and into the shower and off to work.

(Not to worry, I dressed first.)

I have taught my body that it's going to take more than pain to put me down. My body, like any bad gambler, tends to fold when its bluffs are called. I press on, despite this evidence of victory, in meager hope and great fear. It's better than the despair I appear to have overcome, finally.

The next battle is over my dietary habits.  I remain an adolescent in this most unhealthy of ways: I am a McJunkfood junkie.  I've got about 25-30 lbs. I could stand to lose.  I bet that if I change my diet, they'll fall off relatively easily. With that change and minimal exercise - the only sort of which I'm capable - I'd feel significantly better about myself.  Physically, that is; the rest of the battle is internal.

Reverb 11, December Tenth

What was the best thing you learned about yourself this past year? And how will you apply that lesson going forward?

I'm trying to think of things I've learned in this year, rather than things I've known for a while and only recently decided to confront.  I think the best, most instructive thing I've learned about myself is just how foundational my Sickle Cell is.

It's the root of almost every insecurity I have. I started drinking at eighteen because I was socially awkward, particularly when it came to females.  I was particularly socially awkward because my ongoing social development was impeded by two things: frequent hospitalizations that both took me out of school and set me apart from my peers in a fundamental way, and social anxiety prompted (in part) by my fear that people would reject me for my difference.  I also let myself get talked into that first Corona lime because I thought it was a normal thing for high school seniors (and, more importantly, college freshmen) to do, and I so badly wanted to be normal - I wanted others to see me that way, but mostly I wanted to see myself that way.

I've already mentioned that I'm afraid to take on too much, due in part to my Sickle Cell.  The other part is due to my depression, which was caused (in the depths of my youth) in part by Sickle Cell.  It's not just the obvious cognitive-behavioral implications of a childhood riddled with physical pain and interrupted social development; the neurological ramifications of repeated cycles of debilitating pain -> opiate pain medication -> recovery -> debilitating pain also played a role.

My body has been my most unreliable asset for my entire life.  I spent my adolescence and about 51% of my twenties in denial.   Not so much of that singular fact; what I denied was that the singular fact was a big deal, psychologically speaking.  I tried to handle the typical crises of adolescence without paying attention to my Sickle Cell - hard, in retrospect, because one criterion of friendship was "Would s/he visit me in the hospital?"  And because few people passed that particular check.

Dating is, and has always been, difficult; not just because of Sickle Cell, but if I listed all of the reasons dating was difficult, each individual reason would connect back to Sickle Cell.  This is what I mean by foundational.

Sickle Cell sets me apart from my sober friends. I cannot completely abstain from mood-altering substances, and most of my sober buddies absolutely must so abstain.  I can avoid the drugs every healthy day - but when the fecal matter collides with the cooling device, "No, sorry, I'm sober" is not an option.  I've never been able to describe the pain adequately to someone who hasn't experienced its like; basically, I'd rather take the morphine and the accusations that I'm not really sober than try to live with the pain.  As prideful as I am, that's not even an internal debate; it's a certainty. I do set a fairly high threshold for when I head into the hospital, and here's the pride: I basically torture myself with pain, hoping that it'll pass, before I give in.  Sometimes, it does pass.  Not always.

I could go on - interminably - but you get the point.  This is the first year I have thrown off the denial completely.  Some of you know how the denial thing works - you get these little windows of insight sometimes, but they're painful, so you close the window, shut the blinds and hang a blanket over them.  This year, I tossed out the blanket and the blinds and nailed open the window.  If I'm going to make any progress socially - if I'm ever going to be less afraid of rejection, for example - I have to accept this part of myself without reservation.

How do I plan to apply this lesson? Achieving greater self-acceptance will translate into greater self-confidence, which I hope will help me take more social risks.  In general, of course, greater self-knowledge is never a bad thing.  Challenging, but never bad.

Reverb 11, December Ninth

How did you travel in 2011? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?

I traveled on someone else's dime, almost exclusively.  As a result, I didn't get to do much sight-seeing  at any of my destination points - a tour of the city of Dhaka, the Gateway of India, the streets of Kathmandu, a souq (marketplace) in Doha...

So basically, "not much sight-seeing" is still pretty incredible.

I racked up enough frequent-flier miles on United to get Priority status, which is pretty sweet.  That also means sometime next year, I'm taking a free flight somewhere (curse you, use-it-or-lose-it miles).  I just have to be judicious about where I'm going and when, since staying there still requires money.

Plus, who do I go see? My favorite people are flung to the four winds, from Cleveland to Indianapolis to DC to NYC to Boston to Houston to frakking Anchorage.

Next year's plan, so far: back to Qatar.  Kentucky, Dallas, Switzerland, Germany (for two weeks maybe?), and Bangkok ("Oriental city / but the city don't know what the city is getting:" me).  I'm expecting a few additions before the end of the semester, but they'll likely be in Los Angeles.  And who knows about fall semester 2012?  A few schools have definitely requested me back (Kathmandu and Salt Lake City); I hope I get to go, awesome people there.  Other places, I could happily never revisit.

Travel is my life now.  The more I do it, the harder it is to think about how short a time I have to move about like this before grad school pins me down.  I could get my Master's online...

Reverb 11, December Eighth

Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2011 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2011.

Kelly's Wedding: "Never Marry But for Love," "Ordinary People."  Meeting Dr. Mrs. Dr. Riegel, who works with sonic booms.  Finding that the husbands of all the Joss Girls are perfect fits - it gave me hope for my crazy self.

The hustle to Vegas and the Chapel of the Bells - still hush-hush - the most successful and tear-filled Vegas trip ever.


Realizing just how much my Sickle Cell prompted my addiction - I want to be "normal," after all, and this is what normal people do.


Hey!  I'm good at my job, and now lots of people know it.  I even got to offer some training to my peers.

Having Cousin Geoff in L.A., to remind me how I could be socializing if I wasn't so inhibited.


Dhaka, Mumbai, Kathmandu, Hartford, Doha, Boston, Houston, L.A., Hanoi, Salt Lake City - and that's just this semester.


And that's my time.

Reverb 11, December Seventh

What should you have done this year but didn’t because you were too scared, worried, unsure, busy or otherwise deterred from doing? (Bonus: Will you do it?)

I should have investigated opportunities to sing that don't include the word "karaoke."  It's been so long...

My students occasionally ask me to sing for them - I always bust out the first verse/chorus of "Man in the Mirror."  They usually ask me why I haven't auditioned/don't audition for American Idol/X Factor or whatever.  Since many of them actually enjoy those televised circuses, I can't reply "Um, because I have something called 'pride'."  That wouldn't be the entire answer, in any case - I actually don't believe that's an environment I'd enjoy or in which I'd thrive vocally/performatively.

I haven't pursued the environments I do enjoy, in which I think I would thrive, for a few reasons.  First is my constant fear that I am possessed of a finite amount of energy; that by spending it on such selfish pursuits as my love of entertaining others, I'd be depriving my academic and professional lives of energy they need.  Hey, I've got clinical depression.  I'm living with it, but I always think - "What if I stretch myself too thin?"  I could  implode, all of my forward strides fallen victim to the reach that exceeds my grasp.  I'm a full-time student and a full-time health educator.  I would love to add part-time singer to the list...but I fear it would cost too much energy.


Second, and closely related, is the specter of Sickle Cell.  Overtaxing myself is a great way to end up horizontal on a morphine drip.  My recovery time from those bouts is just too long these days; I can't afford, financially and otherwise, to be out of commission for that long.

Perhaps I'm wrong, though; perhaps it wouldn't cost so much energy. I know it would cost much money. To tune myself back up to professional quality, I'd have to find a voice teacher to help me unlearn the bad habits I've relearned in the years since the Vassar Days, when I was at the peak of my training.  Of course, thanks to all the booze and smoke of those Days, I've probably sounded better since then - but the technique is as key as the sound it produces.  I could go auditioning without the voice teacher - I could maybe get by with actually warming up before I sing, and rehearsing the songs instead of letting them fly off the cuff.  But there's that pesky pride, and the accompanying fear that I'm not as good as I think I am (despite the recurring evidence that I might be a little better than I think I am).  It would take a golden opportunity coming up at the last minute for me to take my present best effort to an audition.

If you're maybe getting the sense that I over-think myself into stagnancy on this topic, you might be right.  Doesn't mean I'm wrong.  Will 2012 change that?  I dunno.  Perhaps when I'm no longer a full-time student - or perhaps when I've managed to throw off some of the psychological balrogs I mentioned yesterday.  I would so dearly love to add performing to the life I'm building for myself.

Right now, it's 6:45pm in Salt Lake City; I've put in what is a comparatively light day of work, but the effects of being on the go nearly all semester are beginning to tell on me.  I don't have to get up until about 8 tomorrow morning, but I can feel the bed calling me.  (King-sized beds in comfy suites call louder.)  Nights like this, I know that adding one more activity onto my docket is not in the cards for the forseeable future.  And for now, I'm mostly okay with that; after all, I'm a straight-A student with a pretty strong professional reputation.  I am both of those things because I conserve my energy and focus it where it needs to be, when it needs to be there.

For right now, "Man in the Mirror" will have to suffice as my creative outlet.

Reverb 11, December Sixth

What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2012? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?

The nice thing about my life is that I'm going to have a hard time coming up with 11 things.

1. Self-loathing (not a lot, but even a little is a problem)
   
2. Isolation
3. Bad dietary habits
4. Unnecessary self-consciousness
5. Medical laziness (I need to be more proactive, less reactive about healthcare)
6. ...see?  Can't come up with 11.  I guess I could get rid of my Steve Maddens (they are rather old) and get some new shoes...

 I am fortunate. I've been engaged in this process for some time now, continuously examining my life for things that it doesn't need, and doing what I can to get rid of them.  I've been very successful in some areas; the problem is, the areas I have left are the character defects and bad habits that are basically Superglued on.  In other words, it was easier to quit using drugs than it will be to cut out the occasional self-loathing thoughts.

But I'm going to make the effort.  I do that by going to therapy (whenever I'm in town), by keeping an eagle-eye out for instances of these things, by calling myself out when I'm engaging in self-destructive (or unproductive) behavior.

Because I can only imagine how amazing my inner (and outer!) life would be if I could cut this crap out.  I can only imagine, because I've lived with some of these things for as long as I can remember.  That's how big of a change I'm talking about - basically, slightly altering the definition of Dash. 

Reverb 11, December Fifth

If a film were made about ONE thing that happened to you in 2011, what would the film be called? Describe the plot/story.

 It would be a short film entitled The Reluctant Wedding Singer.  Follow Dash as he reconnects with friends from college at a Philadelphia wedding.  Experience his inner monologue, as he meets the husbands of those old friends; feel his chagrin as he learns just how much the husbands know about the Crazy Vassar Days.  Note his bemusement at the occasional drunkenness of those old friends and new acquaintances; hear Dash's reflections on his drunken days, and why he's glad to be sober.  Experience his pride as he gives a short recitation during the wedding ceremony, and his oddly abashed reluctance when asked (at the last minute) to serenade the new couple during the reception.  The film ends on his a cappella rendition of John Legend's "Ordinary People."

Reverb 11, December Fourth

What healed you this year? Was it sudden, or a drip-by-drip evolution? How would you like to be healed in 2012?

Perspective.  This year has brought me perspective on so many things, and with that gift has come a peace of mind I have lacked for most of my life.   I say "gift," but a more accurate description might be "reward" - it took some hard work on myself to find these answers.

It also took swallowing some pride and returning to a therapist.  After Sickle Cell obliterated most of the latter half of 2010, I realized that I needed a new way of coping with my diseases.  I needed a new understanding, because I was using the old one as a blunt instrument of self-torture.  So I found a new therapist, and I unburdened myself.  He picked up all the pieces, and together we puzzled them into a new and enlightening picture of Dash.


It's an ongoing process; I won't claim that I have all the perspective I need to consider myself fully "healed" (a dubious word selection in any case, considering my numerous incurable diseases).  There has been nothing sudden about this.


Now that my self-concept is back on the road towards Whole and Healthy, I would like two things for next year (listening, Santa?): I would like to see continued improvement in my physical and social conditions.  I imagine the former is fairly self-explanatory, although I'll elaborate that I've been having pretty debilitating migraines the last few weeks.  The latter refers to my continued habits of isolation; I need to meet new people, make new friends.  It's something I'm pretty bad at.

Reverb 11, December Third

What are your ambitions? What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to/detracts from your ambitions? Can you eliminate it?

I have a list of goals, arranged in chronological order, that repeats in my head on a daily basis:

1. Graduate college
2. Move into my own place
3. Complete grad school
4. Create second (and more lucrative) career

Over the past five years, six months, and 23 days of sobriety, I've slowly and painstakingly (because, y'know, it took pain to accomplish) discovered and discarded most of the habits that stand in my way.  There are a few left.  For one, I still don't save enough money.  I need to acknowledge that I've gotten better at that with each year, so in just these last few months of work I've managed to put away a decent amount.  I could set aside even more, but I have what we in AA call "financial wreckage [of the past]".  I dedicate some of each paycheck to getting square with the Bank of Dad - for the loans, and the...let's call them the times I took out a loan without him actually exactly knowing about it. So I'm pretty fiscally responsible, these days, but there's always room for improvement in this area.

The thing I really need to get rid of?  My impatience with all of this.  Underneath all of my progress, all of my growth as a human being, all of my acceptance of my past, I still feel like I should have accomplished that whole list by now. It's not fair to me to feel that way, and it often intrudes on my sense of gratitude for the things I have accomplished and the fact that my life is pretty awesome as is.  It also has a serious impact on self-esteem, which intrudes on other things.  In some ways, I feel as though I won't be any sort of complete package (to offer to someone else) until I wrap these things up.  I mostly love myself as I am; in some part of me, I just don't expect anyone else to.

Can I eliminate it?  I dunno, but I'm working at it.  That's my major psychological hurdle these days.  Technically, it's not standing in the way of accomplishing my goals; it's standing in the way of getting the most pleasure/fulfillment out of life in the meantime.

Reverb 11, December Second

What, or whom, did you let go of this year? Why?

Oh, this is a toughie, on multiple levels.

I had to let go of Her.

Not the idea that she'd ever love me again - that, I let go of years ago.  I knew that our relationship was in the past.  What we once meant to one another, we could not ever again mean to one another - the damage was too severe and the gulf of time since too wide.  Those wounds have closed, scars have formed, and we have learned to live with them.

We've even managed to resuscitate something of the friendship that predated our love by many years.  That's a miracle, by any assessment, and a gift of undeserved forgiveness that - well...I didn't deserve.  I have been careful, in the years since, not to place too much of a demand on that friendship.  I cherish its existence, just the knowledge that if I truly needed her, she'd be there.  I didn't earn that; she's just that kind of person.

I had let go of her feelings.  I hadn't let go of my feelings.  It's almost as if I considered the fact of my ongoing feelings for her a sort of penance.  I didn't allow myself to move on.  She forgave me, and I forgave her, but I could not forgive myself.  So I paid for my crimes with the pining.  With the refusal to admit that what had passed was past.  With the refusal to hope that in the future, there will be another opportunity to love like this - that  I will have the chance to demonstrate that I've learned from my mistakes and find something whole. Something healthy and lasting.

This year, she asked me to meet her while she was in town.  I don't know what she was looking for, from our coffee that evening; I do know, because she told me so, that she didn't quite find it.  But I finally found the courage (with a whole bunch of prodding from my sponsor) to face up to my feelings, and why I'd been clinging to them.

I took my feelings out of the box in which I'd trapped them, and I showed them to her; then, I laid them down and I walked away.  I won't say that I've found total peace on the matter since then, but I don't pine.  I have forgiven myself for my eight years-old crime.  I have hope - you might even call it faith - for the future.  My penance is over.

Reverb 11, December First

Hanoi is 15 hours ahead of home and 12 hours ahead of work; I feel like that's long enough a gap to say that communication across it represents time travel.  Also, my flight home (connecting through Tokyo) lands before it took off.  I say that to say: Greetings, from the future!

I have been assigned, by people whose esteem I value, to a task.  The task is to use a series of prompts to reflect on my year.  Since nobody has ever accused me of reflecting too rarely, or failing to take advantages of opportunities to do so, those esteemed and estimable people didn't exactly have to twist my arm.

Without further ado (which pains me, as I do love ado - whoops, broke my word, that was further ado):

Encapsulate 2011 in one word. Explain why you're using that word.

Appreciation.

My employers have shown increased appreciation of me and of my skills; as a result, 2011 has been my busiest year ever, professionally.  I have seen more of the world in these 52 weeks than I ever expected to in my lifetime, including areas of the U.S.A. that are new to me.  I have demonstrated my appreciation of my employers, our clients, and of the job I'm privileged to do by diligently growing as a prevention specialist: I've pursued vital knowledge of self and of the subject material I teach with equal enthusiasm.

Some of the people I love have shown appreciation for each other by getting married (for which appreciation is a weak term, I know, but I'm trying to encompass the whole shot in one word, remember?) - and shown appreciation of me by inviting me, by asking me to stand up for them, by asking me to sing for them.  I have shown reciprocal appreciation by doing all of these things with joy in my heart.  I love weddings, but more than that I love watching people who mean the world to me make lasting promises to people who mean the world to them.  I love getting to know these new additions to the family.  I love sharing in the euphoria weddings can visit upon those willing to embrace the magic to be found there.

Having three weddings in a year has also given me ample opportunity to reflect on how much I appreciate the durability and longevity of the best friendships I have.  I've known the folks who got married for 12, 15 and 16 years respectively.  As I get older, and I realize how rare (but awesome!) it is for me to make such strong connections with new people, I remember to cherish the gifts of loyalty my longtime friends have given me.

And honestly, I just appreciate that 2011 didn't suck out loud, the way 2010 kinda did.  I turned 30 last year; I had rather hoped it would be a year of growth and reflection, a year of fun.  Instead it was a year of severe illness and pain, of long (and only partially successful) recovery.  2011 has brought me exactly what I had hoped for from 2010; I have not forgotten, along the way, to be grateful for that.

I appreciate you, too.

The Privilege of Ignorance...the Ignorance of Privilege...something involving ignorance and privilege

I am going to tell a story that is quite embarrassing to me.  It's all about how ignorance and privilege go hand-in-hand, and how 12 year-old Dash was as much victim and exemplar of this fact as anyone ever has been.

Our elementary school, the Center for Early Education, had no space for a theater - we were too small, hip and urban for such things.  Our plays (we called them Lullaby of Broadway productions, or Lullaby for short) were either in the school multipurpose room or at the Wilshire Blvd. Temple.  It's a beautiful place for a production; it's got that old-LA construction, lots of marble and granite, and the performance space is huge.  It's just not in the greatest part of town - not a bad part, by comparison, just...closer to downtown than CEE. Closer to South Central than CEE.  Nonetheless, the bigger Lullaby productions were always at the Temple, as was the case with our 6th-grade stab at Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Blahdiblah.

(Really, I'm sitting here physically embarrassed to tell this story.  You know that little twinge you get in your gut, that either presages or accompanies an everyone's-looking-at-me-and-I'm-naked blush?  Yeah, I've got that feeling.  For reference: I didn't have that feeling when everyone was looking at me and I was naked one time in college.)

It was the spring of 1992.  When the first Rodney King verdicts came back, we were at the Wilshire Blvd. Temple, rehearsing for Lullaby; the first reports of rioting reached us at the same time.  We were immediately whisked from the Temple back to the safer confines of West Hollywood; our parents picked us up at school.  The director told us that our production of Joseph would also be moved from the Temple to the CEE MPR.  This violation of tradition was absolutely untenable to us, the 6th grade of the Center for Early Education.  We would not sit idly by and tolerate this injustice.  Generations (not true) of 6th graders had held their last Lullaby shows in that space, and we would not be deprived of our rights.

We were raised, and taught, by people who had protested - either in favor of civil rights, or against the war in Vietnam, or both (and by those who had protested "in spirit," and spoke nonetheless of those Glory Days).  We were taught the value of civil disobedience before we learned the value of civic participation. So we decided that we should protest this injustice.  Just so that you're keeping track here, the injustice had nothing to do with the four racist LA policemen acquitted of the near-fatal beating of a Black motorist; the injustice was that our play venue had to be moved five miles west.  Against this terrible crime, we protested.  We picketed the front gate of our school after classes, when all of the parents would have to walk past us to pick up their kids.

Swaths of Los Angeles were on fire, and I was one of the kids who lived close enough to see the smoke. But my chief concern was that I be allowed to dress up and sing Andrew Lloyd Webber songs in Central Los Angeles instead of West Hollywood.  We drew signs, we put on our angry faces, we chanted.  Oh, yes, we chanted: "See Reality! Have Lullaby at the Temple! Peace! Reality! Have Lullaby at the Temple!"  The crux of our argument, you understand, was that our parents had no right to insulate us from potentially harsh realities by changing venues.

Of course, we were 12 - perhaps we should be forgiven for our total lack of perspective.  I went home that day, surprisingly without a Mom-lecture on the appropriate uses of civil disobedience, and watched the riots unfold on TV.  Dad was an alternate on the Warren Commission, so we had the report at home.  I read it.  I began to understand the stakes, and the idiocy of protesting injustice by burning down your own neighborhood.

I also learned what injustice actually was, and how to never again use that word lightly.

When I speak of my experience of the riots, I usually talk about the first day, finding out about the verdicts and the rioting from Amos and refusing to believe him (he was a known prankster) until rehearsal was summarily cancelled.  I talk about the somewhat-harrowing drive home from school, how some asshole lit up a Tire Center so we were stuck inhaling burning rubber at the same intersection for at least 30 minutes if not longer.  I talk about living on a hill, above the fires but not quite above the smoke, and how some of the rowdier neighbors talked about going down the hill for some looting (nobody I know actually did, but some talked big).  This part of the story, I usually leave out.

Every time I think of my fool self, marching in a tiny circle in front of my privileged-people's elementary school gate, having the nerve to talk about reality...I get that little twinge in the gut.