Memories, personal

Taking the tally… Still in the good

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Memory is a blessing and a curse. Most of the time people talk about the ghosts of the past that highlight regrets or bring back times that remind us of what we missed or lost. We think about “good old days” and “back when”. Primarily, that particular ability for recall brings up all the deficits of the present as we put on the rose colored glasses of “yesteryear”.

Don’t get me wrong. I am as guilty as the next. There are some terribly painful missing elements in my present existence and some glorious victories of days gone by that make me feel every second of my *cough* years. I have aches of grief and regret. I pine for times gone by that history has graced with a veneer of soft reminiscence. I miss the people gone from my life. I miss… my youth, my choices not taken, and I consider the alternative pathways I might have explored.

And now I will call for a full stop, before I start traipsing down that depressing road.

I had a reminder this very evening that memory can also be a blessing. I stepped into one of our regular haunts. For those who understand the concept of “the pub,” there is no explanation required. For the rest, a pub or “the pub” isn’t a bar or even just an establishment serving adult beverages. It is the local gathering place, where people share news and gossip, where you celebrate you victories amongst friends and your griefs amongst family. It is, to borrow from an iconic television cliche “a place where everybody knows your name.” These establishments are rare in the U.S. (we had prohibition, remember), and even more so in the south. I’ve been lucky enough to find a few places that fit the bill. It isn’t about the liquid refreshment or food. It is about the staff and the patrons who frequent these rare gems that give them the distinction of “pub”.

I’ve gotten distracted, as usual, but tonight, I had a plethora of stimuli that set up the internal playback mechanisms. The jukebox had evidently been loaded by every family member and friend wanting to visit my recollections. Every musical interlude called to mind a different person or particularly vivid event to mind. The time of year primed my mind to drift towards the past and all the elements missing from my present.

My saving grace met me shortly upon entering the pub. Making customary greetings, I happened upon this dear friend (family of choice). He remarked to me, “Remember how we met…”

I did. In that particular instance, he had been helping out on a busy night waiting tables. We had been new patrons. He smarted off. I smarted back. The rest is history. No. It isn’t. It is present. It is future. We recognized something in each other: A sense of humor, a spark of something… In days past they might have called it kindred spirit. From there so many friendships and feelings of family grew…

It reminded me of all the people that circumstance and synchronicity has brought to my life. Not all good, but if I am honest (and I suck at lying) more good than bad.

This year… It’s blown chunks. I can’t lie (see above). There have been some extraordinarily bad times about this year. But tonight, I was reminded that if I examine the account, my balance is still the the good. Take the win. Worry about the margin another time.

Body Image, Health

Physical Fit: Your Charts Do Not Define My Feelings

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While the majority of my entries on this topic have been a collection of anecdotes and observations about a middle aged woman’s efforts to shed some undesired adipose tissue and maybe acquire a healthier lifestyle along the way, there is really more to all of this than exercise. And, no, I’m not talking about dietary changes either (though stay tuned, because that is coming… go ahead and groan). I’m actually talking about other parts of health and wellness that include healthcare professionals.

Yes, I’m going to talk about going to see your doctor. Before you start to close the browser window, just hear me out (or at least continue reading).

Healthcare in the USA is a bit of a trigger point for some emotionally charged political discussions. I am NOT going to be dealing with those issues here¸ other than to say the government is pushing for everyone to have some sort of healthcare coverage. Again, not going to talk about the merits of how they are doing this. The point being there are more people who are complying with the mandate to get insurance, though not enough are financially able to do so as it stands.

Most health plans (I won’t generalize to ALL) actually cover preventative care at 100% or at least at a higher percentage than “sick call”. Preventative care is your yearly check-ups, routine labwork, cholesterol and triglyceride checks, colonoscopies (at certain ages), gynecology checks, and mammograms (again at certain ages). Some even give you incentives to get these things done. Regardless, part of living a healthier life and pursuing any sort of physical fitness means being aware of these factors that impact health and taking the steps to stay healthy and catch anything that might be a sign that something is not right early enough to do something about it.

However, visiting the doctor is not without its “slings and arrows,” as I discovered when I was being appropriately health conscious and having a bit of a check in with my oncologist/hematologist (not all my medical interactions have been preventative, unfortunately). Part of these visits, aside from the vampiric portion of the program (that part where they take what seems to be all of my blood for their own purposes and then tell me that I’m anemic), is to weigh me. I will tell you, that while I am not the epitome of vanity, I dread those damned doctor scales every time.

Unlike the spring or digital version of the friendly (or not so friendly) bathroom scale, these monstrosities compound the insult with injurious placement of little weights at varying degrees to measure and using lever and fulcrum with little leaden weights to accurately determine the amount the body weighs in response to earth’s gravitational pull. Keep in mind; you are being weighed without the psychological benefit of removing shoes and clothing to ditch a few extra ounces. Yes, I know they are more accurate, but seriously? Watching the nurse wait to see if the indicator rises or falls below the midline and trying to imagine myself being light as a feather or holding my breath as if that would possibly make the numbers go in my favor… she reaches out and keeps adjusting… adding more and more weight and sliding those little bastards further towards the end to balance the leverage against my ponderous mass. It is a humiliating experience. Not merely just watching the numbers is agonizing but also because, in this particular case, the scales in question are in the high traffic area right next to the counter where the next appointments are scheduled and the “checking out” ritual occurs. So, everyone passes by and can view my shame… it is very unlikely that they give two rips about my weight, but it is just the perception, you know.

So, while I have not the svelte or willowy physique of a runway model, nor do I have claim to the hourglass figure of Marilyn Monroe, I am a solid specimen and as I have been working out there are fewer bits that jiggle than there used to be. Since embarking on my fitness journey, I have shed a few pounds, but not any drastic offloading of weight, as the scales do attest. I am, however, what is considered tall for a female. I am about six feet of human female, and I have always tended to be more on the athletic, Amazon build than otherwise. I’ll even share with you the actual number that was on the aforementioned apparatus: 194. So, like I said… solid. I will not be blowing away in a good gale nor will I have any problems remaining firmly grounded upon the earth.

Anyhow, after the weighing in process was complete, I waited in my appointed examination room for the appearance of the doctor (or more likely one of his myriad of minions). Sure enough, in walked one of my medical staff with my chart in hand. All in all, the results were in my favor. My values were the best they have been in many years. I basked in the glow of all the positive praise of my good health when I happened to glance down at the chart and my eyes riveted on one diagnosis… OBESITY.

Yep, that is what it said. I will admit that from that moment, no other words or information permeated my brain. I was stuck. I had been labeled as obese. I couldn’t tell you what more was said before I took my little paper to the desk to schedule my next follow up. I mechanically responded to questions and took my appointment card. I wandered in a trance-like state to my vehicle in the parking lot and made my way back to the office. For the rest of the day, I ruminated on this term: Obese. I immediately saw it as a criticism, and I pondered what more I could do. I had changed my lifestyle and been working out. I was tracking every morsel of food that entered my body. My medical provider had labeled me with an unhealthy, primarily self-induced condition that could have devastating impact on the rest of my physical health. I work in the healthcare field. I see this term applied all the time. I know what it means technically, but while as a clinician I know the terms and criteria of the diagnosis, I also cannot rid myself of the emotional connotations of the term in our society.

Think about it. What do we think of when we hear “obese” or “obesity”? Immediately, we have the image in our minds of the lazy, couch potato with rolls of adipose tissue bursting from the straining fabrics and elastics of their clothing while they continue to absorb billions of empty calories and high fats from junk food and sodas. Admit it. That image is there.

Clinically, what that term means is that on a chart somewhere in a text book, on a wall, in a computer program, there is a BMI that corresponds to weight and height and some assigned level of normalcy or healthy. BMI stands for Body Mass Index and involves some mathematical gymnastics using weight and height to give a number by which some medical professional can determine your health risk due to carrying unnecessary poundage… or conversely have concern that the patient may be underweight and suffering from malnutrition due to starvation. There are tons of BMI calculators online. There are also a plethora of charts that show what constitutes a healthy BMI range. Strangely, not all the charts appear to be in agreement. However, while they do not all seem to agree with where I fit in precisely, they all appear to think I weigh more than I should.

I left my oncologist’s office less focused on the positive aspects (namely my blood pressure being 98/60 and my blood values representing me as all but the perfect specimen of hematologic health) and instead, completely obsessed with the “obesity” word. In my mind this word had taken on a character and importance of a proclamation from heaven. It destroyed my whole day. It’s true. I had the pervasive emotional funk wrapped around me like the proverbial cloak, and I’m pretty certain that there was a black cloud hovering over my head that shot lightning bolts at passersby. True story. Ask my staff. Some are still recovering from their burns.

Eventually one brave soul actually asked me what was wrong, and to my extreme shame, I told him… “I am obese…”

This admission and declaration attracted the attention of another friend who stopped in his tracks and the two stood there staring at me as if I had grown a second head or possibly a second ass since my weight was the apparent issue. Their continued appraisal was beginning to make me uncomfortable when they both responded with “What?!?” I repeated the shameful statement, and to my amazement they just started laughing. I did not particularly appreciate the humor in this case, but then they started both talking at once to declare the complete inaccuracy of the diagnosis. I explained to them where I had seen it and how it had been determined. Both of these guys have some knowledge of the fitness realm, and finally they were able to tell me why what I had seen was ridiculous. It seems that these charts to which so many of our medical professions are adherent fail to take into account muscle mass and fat to muscle ratios. My friends recounted various individuals who were the epitome of fitness, weight trainers, and body builders who were by these charts considered obese because the chart compares weight to height… and nothing else.

Finally, they asked me how I felt. And I had to actually consider it. How did I feel if I ignored that word that was still indelibly burned into my temporal lobe (obese…ob-ese…o-b-e-s-e…)? I thought about it. I felt pretty good. I can run three miles without wanting to die or feeling that I am expiring. I go to the gym five or six times a week. I seem to have more energy. I’m eating better. I notice that some of my clothing fits differently than it formerly did. So… yeah, I’d have to say, I feel pretty good. Why did the numbers on a scale have that power over me?

And that… my friends, is the moral of the story. Those numbers and charts and scales are not always the best measure of overall health. Do I suggest you ignore them all together? No. But I do believe that there has been too much emphasis placed on how much a person weighs instead of body composition, muscle and bone density (especially as we get older), and the feeling of wellbeing and fitness. What matters to me is that I continue to run and do my strength training and feel healthier and keep my blood levels and vitals where they should be. Too much attention to the numbers on the scale can lead to eating disorders and vicious cycles of weight loss and gain that is unhealthier than trying to be more active and eat good things.

If you, like me, are struggling with the numbers on a weighing device, try taking a break from it. Try using other body measurements (yes, like with a tape measure). If you have access to body fat calipers, use them. Keep a log of your activities and truly assess how you feel when you are physically expending energy. Make that scale a once in a while thing instead of a daily or even weekly thing. Realize that we are all different in our composition and that the charts are designed based on the averages and sometimes are not even using the most updated best-evidence models of health. I personally still have some pounds to shed. My knees tell me this, not the scales or charts. I focus now primarily on my lifestyle not my weight. I have declared to all that the charts will not define how I feel.

Body Image, Health

Physical Fit: And on the 8th day she rested… or was it the 3rd day… maybe the 6th?

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Lately, I have been investigating the various opinions and versions of the “rest day” or “skip day”. I shall endeavor to summarize and synthesize what I have gathered… and maybe by the end of it, I’ll have some clue about it myself.

I recently experienced a plateau that set me back and made me reconsider the wisdom of my fit of mad fitness. I started feeling fatigue and felt myself slowing down. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I should have been noticing changes and improvements and things getting easier. Instead, I saw the numbers on the scale not moving or changing in any way, and I felt that somehow things that were previously getting less arduous were starting to require more effort.

It was disheartening, to say the least. This prompted a good many conversations with people I considered more knowledgeable, especially with regards to the gym and fitness routine, than myself. Many, many helpful tips were given. Several plan suggestions were outlined. And one rather vehement admonishment was presented. This last bit, I will say, was the most difficult for me to actually appreciate or believe. It came upon the headwinds of an Autumn cold, and it went something like this:

Friend: You need to take it easy.

Me: I’m ok.

Friend: You want to stay that way… You need to take a break. You push too hard, and you are going to compromise your immune system.

Me: I’ll be fine. I just don’t want to lose my momentum…

Friend: Um… yeah, you will lose more ground if you make yourself sick.

Me: Ok, I’ll take it easy.

Friend: I don’t believe you…

Whereupon, I proceeded to ignore the sage advice (I didn’t want to lose my positive inertia). It wasn’t really that I discounted the advice as untrue or ill founded. It was that I had gotten myself into a panic that if I slowed down, even slightly, I would lose valuable ground… or worse, I would backslide into furniture-tuberness (yes, I made that up). I knew my own weaknesses and my tendency to come up with excuses to avoid the gym. I strongly suspected that given any opportunity, the devil on my shoulder would dig in and convince me to give up this whole silly idea of getting healthy and persuade me to embrace some old, bad habits. The point being is that my brain could not really grasp the idea that taking a break could, in any way, be beneficial towards improving my training.

And then, the elephant seal took up residence in my chest. How do I know it was an elephant seal? It barked… sometimes all night. I coughed, I hacked, and I certainly did not sleep. My immune system said “You didn’t listen? Fine, now see what we can do.” I suspect I was very lucky that it wasn’t worse. A few years ago, a compromised immune system resulted in a bout of the shingles that rivaled close communion with a blowtorch and made a burn unit look like a resort spa. At any rate, on this occasion I was forced to slow down by mere fact that I couldn’t expend much effort without being immobilized by a coughing fit that made complete strangers want to leave town and call the CDC.

So, I took it easier. I stopped looking to set any new speed records for myself. I focused on just staying active, but I tried not to push very hard. About this same time, the other aspects of my life decided that the health crisis intervention was just not doing the trick and decided to hit me in some other particularly unpleasant ways. The upshot of it all was an unexpected, unplanned, and entirely unwanted break from what had become my rather comfortable routine and a trip out of town in order to put some things back in order. It was not a mere decrease in intensity of activity. It was a complete absence of any of my usual cardiovascular or strength training or even flexibility exercises. This is not the way I would suggest that any of you who are currently reading this be introduced to rest or skip days.

When I was finally given opportunity of getting back to the gym, I dreaded how my body would respond after the forced decrease in activity. True to form, the first day back, my mind started concocting all manner of excuses and reasons to postpone my return to the gym. However, I am happy to say I countered the internal arguments and pushed myself back through the doors to face what I was sure would be “starting over.” Much to my surprise, the first thing I did was break my own record to run 3.37 miles in 25 minutes, and I did it without keeling over. This was astonishing. I was genuinely dumbfounded that being away from my workout for several days had not completely undone all the good work of the previous months and set me back firmly in the realm of inactivity. And… so… I started considering (and reading about) the importance of rest, routine, and muscle confusion in any plan to improve health and well-being.

What my friend said is true. Over-exercising can negatively impact the immune system resulting in illness, and overworking certain muscle groups and body parts can result in fatigue and injury. However, fatiguing the muscles is part of the strength training process, and how is this related to rest days or staying on track with the formation of healthy habits? Well, I’ll tell you what I’ve found…

  • According to most sources it takes about three weeks for a behavior to become a habit. So, try to still with a consistent (no rest/skip days or weeks) routine for at least a 21-day cycle when starting.
  • Most health journals and online medical information sites indicate that exercise promotes good health, prevents illness, and wards off disease and depression.
  • Overtaxing the system, even with health-promoting fitness regimen, can impact the immune system in a negative way and overstrain muscles and connective tissues resulting in injury. Incorporation or recovery time is important to the overall efficacy of physical activity.
  • Most physical fitness recommendations are to engage in some sort of exercise at least three times per week, but it is also recommended that for good health, people should have some sort of physical activity (even just taking a walk) each day.
  • Many fitness programs recommend one or more day of rest per week… Not necessarily zero activity, but less intense activity.
  • Some training plans advocate for a rest week (again, not quality time with your couch cushions… but instead taking a break from your regular workout intensity or type). The recommended frequency depends on your routine and chosen focus, but no more than every other month.
  • Often a break now and then from the usual workout routine will give a kick start to training goals and can help get past a plateau.

The point to all of it is that pounding away at workouts non-stop is not always the best approach to a healthier lifestyle or to reaching physical goals. Additionally, taking a break (planned or not) doesn’t mean that you are slacking, that you have failed at physical fitness, or that you will lose hard-earned ground in the pursuit of better physique or better health. In fact, inserting a rest day or two into the workout plan can boost the efficacy of training. If nothing else, it is important to remember that a day or two away from the gym doesn’t have to result in a derailment of healthy lifestyle. Now that I have experienced it for myself, I can say with sincerity that my body responds better and benefits more when occasionally I remember to take time out to rest.

Memories

When the Frost is on the Punkin’…

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http://rebloggy.com/post/scary-cold-halloween-fall-forest-autumn-mist-haunted-darkness-leaves-woods-spook/60120070804

“The frost is on the punkin’ and the fodder’s in the shock…”

~James Whitcomb Riley

The mornings have a crispness that heralds the shortened days and chill of winter, but the sun still holds warmth of the aging summer that softens the transition and holds off winter’s grasp for just a while. The blue of the sky is clear and particular to the autumn; it’s a color that is not present at any other time of the year.

Even for an inveterate sun-worshipper such as me, the fall of the year holds something very special. There is something mystical and magic about the fogs that creep along the ground and crawl out of meadows and fields to cross roadways and paths. The smell of campfires, bonfires, and burning leaves on the cool evening air calls to mind the sounds of laughter and chill up the spine from ghost stories told around the fire. The flashing lights of fireflies give way to the sparks rising into the cold night air with the smoke.

I am not a big fan of colder temperatures, and I am certainly not a fan of less sunlight. However, I have to admit that there is something about the autumn that makes me happy.

I think that it is a lot of memory is stored up in the sensory experience of this season we call the fall of the year. The science involved refers to the olfactory bulb and the temporal lobe and hippocampus being all there nestled together, but the truth is that there is just a lot of really fun stuff that happens during this time of the year. The smell of bonfires and leaves burning mixed with the sweet smell of hay just put in the barns and even the scent of curing tobacco hanging from the rafters… these are all smells strongly associated with my childhood and memories of my family, now many of whom are now absent from my life, departing in greater numbers in the last decade to leave very few of us to carry on traditions and remember.

I still revel in listening to ghost stories around a fire while drinking warm cocoa or possibly hot cider. There is a thrill that goes up my spine with a really good spooky tale or a haunted house, wood, or corn maze; and I love the fog that creeps across the low fields and meadows like something out of one of those stories. I love the sun hitting the side of the mountains and illuminating the flames of color off-set by the deep greens of the evergreen conifers native to the southern United States.

Maybe it is true, what they say about the veil being thin at this time of year. It always seems that those people I miss are more frequently in my thoughts. Their memories pop up at various times, sparked by some trigger of my senses. I miss them more. I find myself wanting to share my observations and thoughts and plans. I feel their ghosts around me, but I still feel the gaping absence as well. It is as if I turn my head quickly enough, I can see one of them looking over my shoulder now as I type… but like Orpheus, the shade is gone when I cast my glance behind me.

It is a romantic time. It is a time when the chill in the air and the hint of a goblin coming to get you is an excuse to cuddle closer and sneak off to darkened alcoves. It is a time for laughter, fun, and friends. It is the opportunity to dress up and be someone else entirely for a night (or possibly more often, depending on your social engagements). It is a time for carving jack-o-lanterns and roasting pumpkin seeds and baking and indulging in a few traditional superstitions… just because it is fun to remember.

It is time to make wishes and see omens in nature and visions in the firelight. It is time to heed the owl’s warning and ask for wisdom in dreams. It is time to remember. It is time to reflect. It is time to revel in this “in between” season as the earth relinquishes the warmth of the sun and turns herself back to the darkness and cold until the days grow longer again.

And because James Whitcomb Riley’s are the words and dialect that always come to mind during this time of year, I’ll leave you with a snippet of another of his verses:

An’ little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An’ the lamp-wick sputters, an’ the wind goes woo-oo!
An’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray,
An’ the lightnin’-bugs in dew is all squenched away,–
You better mind yer parunts, an’ yer teachurs fond an’ dear,
An’ churish them ‘at loves you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear,
An’ he’p the pore an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you
Ef you
Don’t
Watch
Out!

Body Image, Health

Physical Fit: Oh! There IS a reason for that thingy…

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So, my workout journey continues. I’ve experienced my various slips and backslides and general lack of motivation, but on the whole, things have gone pretty well.

I have spoken previously about necessary equipment for the ritual of working out. For the most part, I would say that you can get away with very little in the way of purchases when starting down the road to a more active lifestyle. Provided you have appropriate footwear to provide support (though obviously footwear is not necessary for all forms of exercise), workout apparel that is comfortable (unless of course you belong to a nudist organization and are content with the effects of gravity upon pendulous parts), and… well, honestly that pretty much covers it. You really need nothing else. It is entirely possible to have physical activity for the purpose of health and well-being without a lot of props.

That said, most people have some form of headphones with appropriate technology to provide background noise of some kind. I am lucky enough to belong to a gym that provides television screens and headphone jacks so that I need not even have my own device. I usually do, though. I’m as attached to my phone as anyone else… and so begins my tale of woe. Well, maybe not so much woe as oh my did anyone see that?!?

Anyone who has jumped on the physical fitness wagon will find themselves bombarded by a variety of “must haves” and “needs” from athletic merchandizers. There are health monitors, gadgets, breathing apparatuses, self-filtering water bottles, attachments for measuring all manner of vital statistics, and of course the clothing and shoe fashions. It is a constant pull of the commercial industries to get your money, and I personally was taking a firm stance to not give into this flagrant display of capitalistic whoredom. I am made of stauncher stuff. I would not be moved (just don’t advertise the stuff on late night television because my will is weak in the wee hours).

One of the silliest devices, in my opinion, was these little holster-like objects that fasten around one’s arm or other appendage and would hold sound production devices or mobile phone. They are frequently made of some neoprene like substance that reminded me, for all the world, of my SCUBA wetsuit. While I didn’t completely dismiss them out of hand, I mostly considered them a vanity for the high fashion conscious workout set. You know the type, the ones with matching outfits made of coordinated spandex and triple digit footwear. I was most decidedly not one of those people, and so, I saw no need to invest in the cute little arm/phone belt that comes in a variety of colors. In fact, I strongly suspected that a lot of people wore them for the sole purpose of showing off their biceps. This was clearly a douch-nozzle or spandex nazi object unworthy of my serious pursuit of better health. I could do very well with my handy phone holster that attaches to my waistband. I certainly did not need to spend my hard-earned wages to be fashionably equipped with my phone holder.

Miscalculation number one: Phones these days, though technology is getting more miniature and compact, are heavy. They respond to gravity much like little talkative paperweights.

Miscalculation number two: Not all workout pants, shorts, or leggings come equipped with drawstrings.

Miscalculation number three: Cardiovascular activity generally involves some bouncing and jarring of the body and all attached items.

And my fourth and final miscalculation: Pants stretch.

You are probably already getting the idea. I think I heard a few snickers back there in the back. One bright and sunny day in the not very distant past, I betook myself to ye ol’ proving grounds for my daily workout. That day, I happened to be sporting one of my purchases that you may recall from an earlier article. This particular pair of leggings was of the cropped variety and was without the drawstring option. They fit well enough when I changed into them. Sadly, the sadists who designed said apparel also decided that a firm elastic waistband was also unnecessary. I believe that this garment was meant to be held up by hopes and magic. Nevertheless, I had attached my trusty holster, put in my earbuds, and mounted my favorite elliptical machine.

I started at a good pace and set the timer for a nice cardio session. About halfway into my run on the elliptical, I noticed that something was happening at around waist level… or rather what should have been waist level and was now slowly creeping towards my groin area.

Now, for those unfamiliar with the equipment known as an elliptical machine, I will tell you that it is a marvelous device for those of us with fragile knees. However, it is also designed to require some attention to technique and has the potential of mayhem if not attending to the poetry of motion associated with the ski-pole like handle movement and pedal like running steps. In other words, taking my hands off to adjust my waistband against the forces of gravity was some high risk behavior. Needs must when the devil drives, and so, I quickly removed one hand from the grips to jerk my waistband back up to its appropriate location and continued in my progress.

I listen to books when I run typically. I must have gotten to an absolutely riveting portion of the narrative because the next sensation to draw my attention was the feeling that my backside was receiving a good deal more breeze than is normal for my appropriate clad posterior, and to my horror I found that I had, in fact, been pants’d by my phone. Yes, ladies and gentleman, the moon (well at least my chunnies) was shining for all the world to see… or at least the poor souls that occupied the elliptical and treadmill rows behind me. Oh the humanity!

And that is how I came to own my very own arm holster… I think it shows off my bicep quite nicely, don’t you?

20141023_175119

personal

PSA: Scams… Same ol’ song and dance…

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So, I know that most of this is old news to anyone with internet, but I found some of it entertaining and some just a bit more concerning. I’ll start with a little game I like to call the “telephone game.”

My phone rang for the umpteenth time in the past few days with the same number that was still unknown to me (209-813-0503, and yes… it has been reported. More on that later…). So, I decided that since they were so very desperate to get in touch with me (but never wanted to leave a message), I would answer. A very heavily accented (I can’t really tell you what the accent is because it changed locals and dialects about five times during the conversation) voice asked if I was the person to whom they were speaking (not in those terms, but you get the idea). The rest of the conversation went like this:

Me: Yes, this is.

Caller: This is Kevin [um…yeah, whatever], and I am with the U.S. Government Grass Department…

Me: The what department?

Kevin: The U.S. Government GRNSS department.

Me: Ok, I’m still not getting it. What department is that?

Kevin: The U.S. Governm….

Me: Kevin, yes. I got the whole government part in this, but I am completely unfamiliar with which department that might be. Perhaps we are experiencing a linguistic problem?

Kevin: The GRNSS… G-R-A-N…

Me: Oh! Grants. The grants department. We’re talking about money. I don’t have any. You’ll need to talk to someone else.

Kevin: No, ma’am. I am with the U.S. Govern…

Me: Yep. Gotcha, Kevin, but I don’t have any extra to contribute. The government already took mine, and I gave at the office.

Kevin: *crickets* Um, no. You have qualified to receive $7193 for your own purposes.

Me: What?!? You mean you want to give ME money? That’s how much?

Kevin: $7193.

Me: Ok. So, you gonna mail me a check or something?

Kevin: You have two options to receive the money. You can receive it by bank account, like checking, savings or something. Or you can receive it on plastic card.

Me: Plastic card? Not paper or metal? Ok… so, I definitely want money. How do I get this $7193?

Kevin: I need to verify that it is you.

Me: Ok.

At this point, Kevin proceeded to verify address and phone number. I was a little disturbed by the address portion of the program, but it’s not like it is difficult to Google these things. Once my identity had apparently be verified, we continued.

Kevin: Now, for what purpose would you use this money?

Me: Why?

Kevin: Excuse me? Why what?

Me: Why do you need to know? If I have qualified already, why would I need to explain myself?

Kevin: Um… we… I mean the U.S. Government Grants Department needs to inquire if there is a purpose for the funds dispensed. For repayment of debt? For purchasing a car?

Me: Well, that wouldn’t be much of a car. But, ok. Um… I would probably repay some bills.

Kevin: Repay…some…bills… [as if he is writing it down] Ok… that is all.

Me: Awesome. That was pretty painless. When can I get my money?

Kevin: Ok, how would you like to receive your money? You have two options: Bank account or plastic card.

Me: Oh, I think I would rather you mail the plastic card.

Kevin: *crickets* Um…what?

Me: You are going to mail me some sort of debit card with the money on there, right?

Kevin: Oh, no ma’am. You misunderstood. We put it on your card.

Me: My card? Like a card I have? I don’t have a card. Did you mail it to me?

Kevin: No… um… you have plastic card?

Me: Oh, like a credit card. Oh! I see. Wow, I’m dense. Sorry. No, I don’t think I want to do that. Let’s do the bank account.

Kevin: Ok. What is the account number?

Me: How should I know?

Kevin: Your account number where we will put the money.

Me: How would I know the account number for the account you are opening for me to draw on?

Kevin: [who now thinks that this is possibly the stupidest woman he has tried to con all day] No, your account, ma’am.

Me: Oh, I’m being silly again. You want me to give you my bank account information so that you can wire the money into it, right?

Kevin: [with an audible sigh of relief] Yes, ma’am.

Me: Oh, well that information would be “No”.

Kevin: What?

Me: Wasn’t I clear? Hell no, then. How’s that?

Kevin: But without the information, we cannot give you the money.

Me: Kevin, sweetie, I believe you are going to give me $7193 about like I think I can go outside right now and fly. This may be news to you, but I don’t give money, social security numbers, or account information to displaced Nigerian princes either, sweat pea. However… I have managed to keep you on this nice phone long enough to pick up environmental information in the background and send the spoof number to the law enforcement registry to try and get a trace…

Kevin: Um… uh… ma’am. I don’t… [CLICK]

Yeah, and that was my entertainment for about 15-20 minutes of my lunch break. This is nothing new, it is just repackaged. What I do find intriguing is that these artists are learning and using new tricks and tales. I liked the U.S. Government Grant flourish. Everyone and their second cousin twice removed have seen the infomercials and ads for how to get unclaimed money from the government. According to all these TV hawkers, the federal government has billions of unclaimed funds that all you have to do is ask… How about not-so-much? While there are a number of programs with money that has been earmarked for programs or assistance, I know not one of them that you don’t at least have to fill out some pretty impressive officially bureaucratic forms or write and actual grant proposal and explanation of what you want to do with the funds to obtain. Which brings me to another new, very nice touch: Kevin asked the purpose to which I would put the funds. This is another confidence booster to the unsuspecting mark. Hearing something like that, you might actually think they were official. I mean, the government is always wanting to know what you are doing, right? Lastly, the genius touch: The amount of the payoff.

This is a tricky part. Cons and scams always rely upon the greed of the mark. They are offering something for nothing or something that is too good to be true. The old email scams had astronomical sums of money involved, and these days, most people are wise to that old story. So, this new twist, they offer a sum that is big enough to be tasty and tempting, but not so big that it is unrealistic. My guess is that it would work on a lot of people, especially with bailout programs and federal student loan forgiveness. It is a new shine on an old scheme.

If you get one of these calls, I would not expect that the number is actually the one to which you were connected. It is most likely spoofed, randomly mapped and projected to your caller ID. It is often a real number. My favorite is when they spoof my own bloody number. That is an absolute riot. I always want to answer those with “It’s done, but there is blood everywhere.” If it isn’t your own number, report it. There are sites where you can report scam number. Also, add your own numbers to the “Do Not Call” list. There is a government (real this time) site for it. I’ll list the sites below.

So, not all scams are at a distance. Believe it or not, there are still some old school charlatans working the old games. There are no new cons.

In my local area, there are a couple of groups doing the old pavement game. This is a pretty standard con, and usually focuses on homeowners of the older variety. A group of workmen approach a home and offer to pave the driveway. Usually, they offer this service for an extremely reasonable amount. They ask for a down payment, maybe $200 and set up to start the job. However, once they set out saw horses and maybe some safety equipment (goggles or hardhats), they notice it is close to lunch… or perhaps they say then need to go buy sealer. They depart, leaving the equipment to make it appear that they have every intention of returning. Voila! They disappear. They’re out maybe $15 worth of materials, and the homeowner is out $200. Occasionally, they actually do some work. Often, it is shoddy or much less than they offered (like oiling the drive, rather than paving it).

With some of the storms and weather we have experienced, another version of the above has cropped up. Again, this type tends to focus on older people in the community. And… as it happened, one of our law enforcement friends got to deal with this type today.

A mature lady answered her door to find a group of men there stating that her roof was damaged and that they were there to fix it. The lady being of more sound mind and will than they were expecting told them that they were not, but as she was outnumbered and a bit threatened, they went up the roof and started working. Our gal wasn’t to be bullied… So, she called 911. The officer responded to watch all of the men scoot up the ladder as fast as they could go.

Um… why would they do that? Wouldn’t they be trapped up there? Not the best exit strategy.

Correct, you are! However, that was not their intention. Apparently the “gentlemen” in question were in possession of what might be perceived, to the casual or not so casual observer, as illegal substances. Yep. They emptied their pockets on the roof. There were any number of interesting packets and items for “recreational” use, and there was about $40. The law enforcement officer asked the guys if all that stuff was theirs (we wouldn’t want them to lose any of their possessions, right?). Strangely enough, they all denied any connection to the items found on the roof. Mrs. Smith (pseudonym) should probably keep an eye on who is using her roof as party central. Anyhow, as no one claimed the substances or the or other items from the rooftop collection and since no damage had been done to the roof, no arrests were made. And Mrs. Smith got $40 out of it. It was on her roof after all.

It seems that every week (if not more frequently), I read or hear about some newly concocted method attempting to target unsuspecting people for money. Part of it is probably that we are in difficult times, and not everyone bears up under hardship to the credit of their character. However, another part of it is that the public, in general, is more vulnerable, precisely because we are in such difficult times. Everyone is struggling, financially, emotionally, and we’ve lost hope that good things will come. We are all vulnerable to the desire to have some of the burden lifted from our shoulders. Now, most, still retain enough cynicism and intellect to know that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is, but there is always that next wave of cons, scams, and schemes designed to overcome that natural cynicism and wariness. So, beware the predators out there. Be careful with your personal information, and say hello to “Kevin” for me.

Report The Call – http://www.reportthecall.com

Federal Trade Commission – http://consumer.ftc.gov

Do Not Call Registry – http://www.donotcall.gov

personal

The Stars Are Stacked Against You Girl, Get Back In Bed*

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There are certain things in this life that appear to be universal. For instance, it’s a bad idea to let someone you just met pick your tattoo after a night of tequila shots. Bartenders want all Journey songs removed from jukeboxes and karaoke lists. No one looks like a Mensa member with a flat-billed, oversized baseball cap turned to the side. Legos are deadly when stepped on in the dark. And if I have planned to get into the office earlier than usual, I am guaranteed to forget everything, including my wardrobe in various steps making me at least ten minutes later than my usual arrival.

I had one of those mornings. You know the kind. The kind or morning that indicated apparently my subconscious and the universe had a meeting and decided that they did not want me to leave my home. I forgot everything but my pants, and not all at once. It was piecemeal. Get to the car…and, I forgot that folder. Run upstairs and grab the folder only to remember that I left my briefcase on the couch. Remember the keys to the car were left in a pants pocket now in the laundry pile… And manage to get all the way to the stop sign at the end of your neighborhood to realize that I left my coffee in its go-cup on the counter.

Yes, of course I turned around to get it. Did you really want me driving in morning rush traffic in a caffeine deficit?

Speaking of traffic, apparently to have instant idiots on the roadways, just add water. No lie. It is astounding how many people think that they have some sort of magical shielding on their small, compact vehicle that will somehow, miraculously prevent them doing an impression of a trash compacted soda can while they whip it out (yes, I said it like that on purpose) in front of the semi barreling along at 55 miles per hour. This favored risk-taking behavior seems to occur with a much higher prevalence when rain has fallen increasing braking distance by a relative factor of how much friction is decreased by rain mixed with oil and other mechanical fluids coating the asphalt surface.

After the harrowing experience of morning traffic, I finally arrived at the office to find that the pushers of all things technical and software related had run an update on the network that my comp had to catch up with, and I was threatened with my life if I did so much as breathe hard while the warning was on the screen. I sat, hardly daring to glance away, should the technology gods perceive that I had not adhered to their admonitions and corrupted my entire workspace. Finally, a new window appeared indicating that my computer would reboot in 60, 59, 58… or I could Reboot Now. Gratefully, I clicked the reboot now… AND… Just kidding, WRONG ANSWER! The BSOD, the “blue screen of death” for those who are unfamiliar with the acronym. Heaving a ponderous sigh… I shut down the computer and sat momentarily staring at the darkened screen. I sent out a plea to the universe. As I pushed the power button and waited expectantly to see if the computer would behave, I told myself that should it fail to do so, I would take it as a sign that today was a bust and I should just go back to bed.

I’m not sure if it was a benevolent higher power looking after my work ethic and taking pity on me or some more maleficent entity that said, “Nay, you must endure the rest of your day, limping along in anxiety about your data and reports…” but the computer came back readily. So, no day off for me with the excuse of technology SNAFUs or Mercury in retrograde. However, on days like this, I really would love to be able to hit the reset button and get a Mulligan, but what the hell! I might get lucky today.

*Thanks to Mary Chapin Carpenter , “I Feel Lucky” 1992

Body Image, Health

Physical Fit: Um… Can Someone Please show me the Plateau Exit?

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Well, it was bound to happen. I’m no stranger to the weight loss/fitness battle, and plateaus are just part of every journey towards better health. Since I experienced my inaugural physical fit, I have experienced pretty consistent progress… until just in the past couple of weeks. Whether it is the autumnal allergies that seem to be depriving me of oxygen (with the elephant that has taken up residence on my chest) or the apparent lack of coordination resulting in a couple of embarrassing injuries (twisted ankle from falling off my shoe and a strained boob… yes, strained boob! Go ahead and laugh),  I found myself slowing down quite literally, with an inability to perform to the same levels as I had achieved, and I just plain hurt. And though weight loss was not the entire goal of my fitness journey, it was part of the original plan. That stopped as well; came to a screeching halt.  So, it seems that I find myself on this butte, hoping that I can find my way out of the sluggish lack of progress.

As usual, with this type of situation, there is no lack of helpful and and sometimes less than helpful advice available. Aside from the widely conflicting explanations available on the internet itself, there are friends and family members with a plethora of contributions to the mix. I have heard them all at this point.

You are eating too much.

You aren’t eating enough.

You need to do more strength training.

You need to do more cardio.

Drink lemon water.

Fast for a day.

Are you stressed?

You name it, I’ve read it or heard it. There are so many offered options for “LOSING WEIGHT FAST!!!” and “Meal Plans for Fat Burning,” the mind boggles. Often these little gems involve a price tag. The truth is that I have been desperately seeking any and all information that might provide an alternative to my own sinking suspicion that I am fighting a losing battle against an aging metabolism (not to mention reaping the benefits of fighting rollercoaster weight issues my whole life). Well-meaning friends have tried to be supportive and helpful, offering their variety of experiences and winning solutions that have worked for them. I am grateful. Truly, I am. However, my recent influx of contradictory advisement has created a maelstrom of info-overload that threatens to breach the boundaries of my cranium. The bad part is that the frustration was starting to work its evil magic upon my mind and whisper the sweet nothings that say “See, it didn’t work. You should just give up. Here, have some chocolate.”

That is where the true negativity of plateaus get us. We are human. We like to be rewarded for our efforts and see that our hard work has achieved what we intended. When that doesn’t happen, it is very tempting to give up. The common sense philosophy would be, just power through it, and you should get right back on track. BUT… how long do you power through? What happens if nothing seems to jump start the process again?

My research and introspection have turned up the most likely culprits in my own situation:

1. Age – Whether I like it or not, I have reached an age where metabolism is not my friend.

2. Gender – Along with the age demographic, I’m female. Hearing me roar is all well and good, but as women, our bodies like to hold on to adipose tissue and our male counterparts on average have less resistance to offloading pounds.

3. Eating habits – Yes, I watch my caloric intake, but for increasing metabolism, I need to eat small meals more frequently. Therein is my problem. My work schedule sometimes results in forgetting to eat until it is time to go home in the evening. Not good. I’m starving my body and putting it into “starvation mode.” Not to mention that I am just starving and hangry and end up eating more than I should.

4. Stress – There has been a lot said about stress hormones, like cortisol. It is true, cortisol is increased when we are stressed. Cortisol is really helpful in stressful situations, allowing the body to break down glucose and activate it for use (fight or flight, you know). The problem is that when we maintain high levels of stress (and high levels of cortisol) over time, the hormone works against us and can break down muscle tissue and result in fat deposits (especially in the mid-section). We also end up craving a lot of simple carbohydrates and sugars. Bottom line? I’m stressed… for a number of different reasons, and it isn’t helping my little plateau issue.

5. Sleep – This goes with the stress issue. A recent discussion with a friend reminded me of some of the important functions of proper sleep. It isn’t just a matter of rest vs. fatigue. Sleep, or rather the deeper levels of said sleep, allow our brains and bodies to dump the excess cortisol and “reset” in order to start all over again for the next waking cycle. Lack of sufficient sleep or unhealthy sleep habits that disrupt the normal sleep cycle prevents the cortisol dump and we start out the next day at a higher cortisol level. Sleep is not my greatest skill either. I generally do not get enough of it (per recommended standards) and wake up several times per night.

So, those are my big five: The most likely reasons that I’m hitting the plateau, but I also wanted input from someone I consider very knowledgeable about fitness, because my plateau has not been solely about the scales. It has also been something I’m experiencing in my performance with cardiovascular training and strength training. My friend had some incredibly helpful ideas to contribute. First, he confirmed that not all beings are created equal, and that what works for some do not work for all… Thus, I need to pay attention to my own body. However, he did indicate that habit and getting into a regular pattern with our workouts is the enemy. He talked primarily about “muscle confusion” as the weapon to use on this enemy.

Our bodies are incredible machines. They adapt and learn. The human body is going for the most efficient use of the resources available. Engaging the same activities over and over provides just the opportunity for our body to adjust to save calories. So, we need to confuse the muscles. How do we do this? Change up the work out and don’t get into a rut of the same routine day after day. Using different types of activities helps, but focusing on different muscle systems on different days will keep the body guessing and prevent it from shutting down the metabolic systems for efficiency or developing a muscle memory that will limit the benefits of resistance/strength training.

So… thanks to helpful friends, review of high school biology, and a perusal of YouTube workout videos; I have my new strategy and game plan. I am going to check in with the fitness trainer at my gym to work on updating my initial plan. I am going to focus on muscle confusion by focusing on different muscle systems. I will be more consistent about my meditation practice and have at least 20 minutes per day, and I will attempt to get more consistent sleep (that may be the most difficult task). We’ll see how well it works and how faithfully I follow the plan. If any of you are feeling the plateau blues or experiencing lack of motivation for starting (or restarting) healthier habits, realize that we are not alone, and we can find the exit to get us off the plateau and back on track!

personal

Bless the “teachers” in Life

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teach

I have, for many years, labored under the delusion that the best teachers were those that got awards and children loved and talked about into their later years as remembering Mr. or Ms. So-and-so who inspired and believed and encouraged. I thought about those “Teacher of the Year” recipients as the ones who have imparted the greatest knowledge and wondered if I had been privileged enough to encounter more of them what my life would have been like. This was my delusion, as I stated previously, for so many years.

In my more recent times, I have come to realize that the teachers in our lives are not always pleasant, loveable, enjoyable, or painless. More often, sadly, it is the nature of human beings to learn as much from adverse stimulus as from pleasure (though, yes, I know that pleasure is more likely to create a stable pattern of behavior). The point being, I realized quite suddenly one day that some of the most unpleasant experiences of my life came with some remarkably powerful (if difficult) lessons.

What amazes me, consistently, is the way that people continue to replicate behaviors over and over expecting different results. Observing individuals run into the same brick wall over and over full tilt, even with people holding up signs, screaming, or trying to physically hold them back, has made me understand that gentle teachers cannot always make a difference until the subject is ready to learn. It is the definition of insanity, but they continue to do it. Over and over, they break themselves against an immovable obstacle… never noticing that they could walk around, or that there is a door in the middle.

But that wasn’t really where I was going with this. I wish that I was one of the people that seem to learn the lessons on the first try and enjoy the success. That doesn’t really seem to be how my brain works. Instead it seems that my brain only absorbs the lessons that life offers through the application of repeated beatings with sticks, figuratively.

What is worse is that I have had the opportunity to learn the lessons presented with less pain involved, but almost without exception, I find that the only way that the lessons truly take hold is with some dramatically unpleasant experience. I spent a lot of time resenting the “teachers” in my life, blaming them for my unhappiness and the memory of unpleasantness. I was angry, and I felt myself to be righteous in my anger towards those wielders of the educational stick (sometimes literally, for example the first grade teacher who broke the ping-pong paddle against my narrow back… yes, it happened. Corporal punishment was used in the stone age of my primary years). After a while (like maybe round about the end of my first abusive attempt at matrimony), I realized that the anger and resentment really wasn’t doing me any good and wasn’t making those who harmed me explode in large, impressive, Hollywood-style fireballs of glorious carnage (I guess I should have talked to Michael Bay about that?). Yes, you can tell I had some pent up rage going on. Point being? It was a waste of perfectly good emotional and cognitive energy. Sadly, even being able to let go of the negative emotions didn’t fix everything. It took one final stage before I truly got it.

For years, I had been told that I overestimate the emotional attachments of acquaintances. Not in a delusional, erotomanic way; more in the way of being open to new friendships and welcoming them into an almost familial acceptance. I think this goes back to my days of living in the military brat mentality. To survive, you either made friends intensely and fast, or you were antisocial and content to be alone. Obviously, these are the extremes, but I do believe that the experience of living overseas in a closed community and moving around about every three years changed how I viewed social acquaintances. It didn’t occur to me that my acceptance was one-sided. It was horribly naïve of me, I know. I’m a psychologist, after all. I have observed and counseled a variety of people over the years to remove themselves from damaging one-sided relationships where they were being used. Physician (or counselor), heal thyself!

One thing about the “teachers” is that if you are repeating the lesson, the learning aids get more and more obvious. Thanks to the many learning opportunities in my existence starting all the many years ago, I have finally learned a few things:

· Adults are fallible and sometimes cruel

· Human beings are indolent and typically will not go out of their way to inconvenience themselves only to benefit someone else

· Justice does not always mean a happy ending

· Being innocent does not always mean you escape punishment

· Being good doesn’t guarantee happiness or success or reward

· Loyalty is not always reciprocated

· Truth is not always believed

· People lie… a lot

· Pretty gets you more than smart (though smart lasts longer)

· The hardest worker will be rewarded with more work (if you have a task that needs to be done, look for a busy person)

· The good times are not when you find out who your friends are… It is when you are in need and at your darkest that you can see to weed out the users, fakers, and cheats. And more importantly? The truly hearty specimens of friendship are able to shine through the withering and choking vines.

· Being right sometimes sucks

· Generosity does not breed reciprocation, it merely renders the generous depleted (thanks, Shakespeare)

· Refusing help when you need it doesn’t make you strong

· People do not like change, especially when it means they can no longer predict outcomes or rely on someone to act the way they always have

· “Acting as if” works pretty darn well… (thanks, Aristotle)

Oh… and alcohol does not make people sing or dance better. That one is not as much a lesson I’ve been taught as an observation that I feel compelled to share whenever I have the opportunity.

This year has been especially enlightening due to several instances of having the curtain pulled back to reveal some rather devastating facts and severe disappointment in my own blindness: My horribly misplaced faith. This is all pretty dark, depressing, and cynical stuff. It isn’t all bad, though. I have been amazed and humbled by some of the truly beautiful, supportive, and decent people who were overshadowed by the more grandiose deceptions of others. Understated loyalty is a much stronger statement to me, now, than other more flamboyant displays, and resentment does absolutely nothing to assuage the pain of betrayal. These are just the lessons that I have been “taught.” I didn’t always want to learn these lessons. However, I will bless my “teachers” in hopes that if I have learned my lessons I will not have to repeat the grade.

personal

Hyperbolic Crap and Other First World Problems

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Have you ever noticed that lately everything seems to be way over the top? It is like someone took the expressed passion volume and turned it to eleven, but not necessarily in a good way. It makes me wonder if people really are this emotional about everything around them or if this is a reaction to something more problematic along the lines of a disconnection to genuine humanity and true affective response to each other.

It isn’t really that I think people should be unemotional or contained at all times. Obviously, having passions is what makes us human and involved with our world. But, seriously, let’s take a look at what people seem to get their knickers in a wad about… most of the time it isn’t even impacting them on any intimate, personal level.

Does that mean that I think people shouldn’t be concerned about the oppression prevalent in distant lands, or the outlandish contrivances of various governments to demolish our basic human rights, or even abuses in the systems we use that put those basic rights in danger from each other? No. I do not mean that at all. I just think that so much of what people get completely bent about are distractions from what may actually be very wrong right before their very eyes. It is a bit of that “not seeing the forest for the trees” stuff. I cannot decide if it is that people do not have enough to worry about in their own lives, or what is more likely, that to avoid taking a good, hard look at what is going on in their own lives, they choose to get in a towering fury about issues that in the grand scheme of things do not have a lasting impact on anyone (like whatever Paris Hilton is doing or how long the Kardashian’s are staying married).

It’s escapism, pure and not so simple, because, what are people escaping? Why are people so adamantly extravagant in their hyperbole about every blessed thing? It seems to be impossible for anyone to have an opinion unless it is extreme, and sadly, it is not possible for anyone to have a differing opinion without causing a schism the likes of which would cause apocalyptic rumblings at the Vatican. I’ve been pondering this for a while. I’m not claiming to have the complete compendium of knowledge or all the answers, but I have come up with a few theoretical constructs and categories, all of which could be erroneous but I’m going to run with them anyway.

Escape Artists

I called it escapism because so much of what people are diving into with all appendages has so little to do with their own physical realities. I can only suspect that their own physical realities are miserable or distasteful to them, and losing themselves in the lives of the rich and famous or fantasy of fiction provides a ready distraction from overwhelming responsibilities and otherwise unpleasant aspects of their own lives. There are also those folks who live in the glass houses, but love to throw stones. They find a good deal of vicarious pleasure in giving counsel to all around them while completely avoiding their own foibles and flaws. These types may legitimately have excellent objective observation skills, but their abilities to critique or provide solution for friends and acquaintances have left them myopic to their own concerns. Bless their hearts! I can understand, truly I can. How many times have I gotten sucked into the wiki-rabbit hole and social media quagmire, neglecting the responsibilities of financial stewardship or household cleanliness in order to argue a point on Facebook or play Farmville, Zombies, or whatever the brain-drainer of the day is? I cannot cast so much as a pebble at this one. Procrastination is my long-time companion, and distraction, the balm for my wounded ego.

Attention-seekers or Social Crusade Warriors

There is nothing wrong with getting a little attention now and then. Everyone deserves a bit of positive attention on occasion. However, some crave it, demand it, and can’t seem to live without it. This isn’t really all that healthy, people. So, perhaps, some of the hyperbole expressed publically (or in social media) isn’t so much about the issues but about getting the attention associated with those issues. It is related to the flawed logic of “If I do not say this loudly with some extreme adverbs or adjectives to define the strength of my passion, no one will notice,” but the notice isn’t so much about the issue but about wanting people to notice them. Yes, there are people who stand on soap boxes merely because they believe the angle makes their butts look better (so to speak… it’s a metaphor, for heaven’s sake!). My rebuttal, why do you need attention for your opinion? Does the issue require this much exposure? If the cause is sufficient, without the grandstanding proclamations to the world by the individual, will the issue languish and subside into the dark and lead to the downfall of society as we know it? There are issues that deserve to be brought into the light, but my question to the hyperbole addict is what are you hoping to accomplish with your expansive, extremes? Are you shedding light on the issue, or are you hoping to have the spotlight directed upon you?

White Knights, Defenders of the Internet and Social Media Realm

This is almost a subcategory of the previous group, but I felt it deserved its own, separate mention. Now, while the nomenclature may be indicative of the masculine, the white knights out there are just as likely to be female as male. These folks can exist on a spectrum of behavior that extends from the supportive to the downright creepy. The defenders of the realm may actually feel strongly about an issue, but what typically happens is that they get a huge boost to their passions about the issue if someone to whom they are attracted expresses their own passionate opinion of same. Sometimes, this can go to the extremes of even flipping the knight’s previous views, but generally, it is more a magnification property than a role reversal. For example, you may have an individual who likes animals well enough. Pets are fine. However, they are not protesting red carpet events about people wearing leather or fur… until… Enter fair damsel in hand-wringing distress. Our maiden in peril is absolutely rabid over the plight of euthanized animals at the animal shelters and the cruelty of carnivorous fare at eating establishments. While our knight has never given much thought to this (and generally enjoys a tasty steak), the charisma of her plea has lit a bonfire within his soul (or her soul… I do not want to be biased). Suddenly, the knight is playing Sarah McLachlan and sharing videos all over the internet of puppies with sad eyes and expounding upon the virtues of tofurkey (“Tastes just like chicken!”), all accompanied by a rousing verbal diatribe upon the special place in hell for unfeeling and complacent people who do not donate to the ASPCA until their wallets scream. That is obviously a little dip in to the hyperbolic on my part, but you get the idea. The knight in question had virtually no opinion or at most a moderate opinion of the issues until expressing otherwise might garner the attention of their lady (or gentleman) fair.

Trolls

Everyone thinks they know what a troll is. They wait under bridges for unsuspecting billy goats to traipse across, providing dinner for the evening. Well… more or less. They cannot seem to resist poking the hyperbole gorilla with a stick. They frequently attempt to be a check in the system of internet opinion balance. In truth, they probably do not even have that strong an opinion about the issue in question, but they know that the individual proclaiming their passion is overinflated with their social indignation and cannot resist pricking them with the needle of opposing thought. Sadly, trolls often get trapped by their own trollery (yes, I just made that up) and soon find themselves unable to have even their most sincerest sentiments believed in the courts of public opinion. Such is the plight of the terminally cynical and perpetually snide. Even statements of true support become tarnished with the suspicion of sarcasm where none was intentionally placed. Oh well, they chose their path, and truly, they do not seem to mind when people remove them from friends lists. All in all, they are relatively harmless unless the over-inflation in question happens to be in the ego.

So, why do we get sucked into the perpetual drama of the terminal hyperbole? Is it that we haven’t enough real world problems of our own on which to expend our energy? Are we all so overwhelmed by our first world problems that bathing in the iniquity of perceived and manufactured wrongs are our only escape and solace? Has society as a whole been so polarized that no one is allowed to have a moderate opinion? Does it always have to result in “us” vs “them” or “If you are not passionately with me, you are against me and must be destroyed”? I can attest that John Gabriel’s “Internet F#$%wad Theory” (aka Internet Anonymity Theory, 2004) is a reality, and the internet has become a hotbed of mob mentality where people use the shield of anonymity in their mutual hostility about issues that overall… probably don’t matter nearly as much as the relationships that they just torched to prove their points. Unfortunately, we don’t have the face to face opportunity like Scout (To Kill a Mockingbird) to call people out individually and remind them of their humanity to pull them out of the mob and shine the light of respect.

I don’t really expect answers to my rhetorical questions. I’ve pondered this for a good long while now with greater and greater despair, and I expect there is not an answer or solution to this until people can start embracing some moderation in their opinions and have tolerance and understanding that friendship and affection is not necessarily based upon holding the same exact thoughts upon all situations. And no, I will not say “we can agree to disagree” because that is just asinine. I will just say that a little respect for opposing perspectives can go a long way towards peace between friends and less heartburning all around… maybe fewer first world problems.

With great appreciation of Harper Lee for her brilliant understanding of human psyche and the dangers of social pressure.

Gabriel, J. (2004). http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2004/03/19