Mirror, Mirror

When I was in high school, I had a friend who, despite being pretty, kind, and interesting, had the worst taste in boyfriends you could imagine. Seriously, it got to the point where we were no longer surprised to get collect calls in the middle of the night from Inmate du Jour.

One afternoon, this friend - we'll call her Adora - had invited another friend - and we'll call her Jerrica - and me over to hang out so she could lament the precarious status of her relationship with a boy we'll refer to as Zartan, the current ankle-bracelet-bedecked jackass who was wasting her time. We let her go on for a while, until finally, Jerrica and I could stand it no longer. We were tired of seeing Adora teamed up with some scumbag who wouldn't deserve to kiss her feet, much less treat her like the dirt beneath them. Our solution was simple. From that point forward, whenever Adora would mention his name, we forced her to look in the mirror and recite:

"I am beautiful. I am wonderful. Zartan is a pig."

This went on for weeks. We really did drag her to the nearest shiny surface and make her say the words every time. Eventually, it became something of a mantra for us, long after Zartan had been replaced by another winner.

There will always be people who don't deserve our attention, but get it anyway. There will be things that shouldn't bother us, but do.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find something reflective. Where's Destro when I need him?

I Cheated

...on this blog. I wrote for another site!

Find my article about the West Memphis 3 at Justice Undone.

Insomnia IS Stranger Than Fiction

I always think of Stranger Than Fiction on Wednesdays. If you've seen the movie, you get that; if you haven't seen it, you need to fix that. I was thinking, maybe I'll set Wednesdays aside for the moments when plot just bashes its way through the wall, whether it has the right address or not. And here, Harold just thought it was a Wednesday.

Today's Stranger Than Fiction topic: Insomnia.

Right about now, I think Insomnia must be one of the strangest things (and cruelest jokes) in the known universe. I mean, first of all, whatever created us - call it God if you will, or happenstance enlightenment of primordial ooze, whatever - imbued us with the need to sleep, a condition which, according to an article in Time, really serves no biological function. And then, for such reasons as being too aware of that need and trying too hard to satisfy it, sometimes, we just can't.

Sometimes, Insomnia is a symptom of some other condition, either illness, stress, or some environmental factor, but sometimes, it just happens, and it has a drastic impact on the quality of life of the sufferer. Sure, there are OTC sleep-aids, herbal remedies, and prescription drugs, but the reality is, they're not guaranteeed to work, and if they do, the side-effects can be as traumatic as the sleeplessness (or worse!). You hear about "Ambien Zombies" doing all kinds of crazy stuff in their sleep. This is all even supposing that such treatments are available to you. How many of us are without income and health insurance, and all the more stressed out and restless for it?

It's bad enough to be in bed, frustrated to tears because you're exhausted, while your damned uncooperative body won't switch off, but what about all those hours that happen after we give up and make the coffee? We still have to go to work, because for some reason, calling out tired is unacceptable. I don't understand that one, either. Countless reports by police and highway safety organizations have stated that driving while sleep-deprived is just as bad as or worse than driving while intoxicated. Maybe you think, "I drive tired all the time, and I've never had an accident or fallen asleep at the wheel." You could be right, and lucky, but did you know that you have to be asleep for around 7 seconds in order to register that you've been asleep at all? Think about what can happen in 7 seconds while you're driving 70 miles per hour, having no clue that you've fallen asleep. Scary stuff.

Still, your boss, your bank account, your creditors, they all need you to show up for work, so you go in anyway. You risk your life just to get to your desk, where you space out, drink a bunch of coffee, and end up getting hardly anything accomplished anyway. Then, you get back in your car and hope to make it home, where you stumble to bed and lie awake because of all the coffee you drank.

Even if you don't have to work, you still have a life. Moms need to be called; catboxes need to be cleaned; the neighbors will complain if you don't cut the grass for a month. And yet... because of an inability to convince your body to shut down and recharge, even contemplating the simplest of tasks is too difficult. Thought itself is too strenuous. You're aware that what your friend is telling you should hold some meaning, but you just can't grasp that he's telling you about the book he's reading and that you asked him to give you his opinion.

Perhaps most strangely of all, it's possible in extreme cases that you could die from this. Die from not being able to perform a function which serves no biological purpose.

What We Keep

We all have this stuff that seems to travel with us as we move through life. Contemplating my future has also made me contemplate the things I'll take with me. As I'm downsizing, (the goal is to have everything I own except furniture fit in my car) I find myself asking "why do I have this?" an awful lot. I've decided that if I can't come up with a good answer quickly, I probably don't need to hang on to it. I am kind of a sentimentalist, though, so some things that aren't useful as anything other than good juju do make the cut:

(click to enlarge)

1. Drumhead signed by the mighty Robo (Memory / piece of music history)
   
2. Cthulhu (Memory: bought with Scott at the creepy Hampton comic shop at 2 in the morning)
   
3. Dummy Winslow Leach (I made it. Could foresee giving to one of a few people)
   
4. A beanie baby (Memory / sentimental value: my cousin Millie left on the dashboard of my first car)
5. Chibi-Cthulhu (Gift: sculpted just for me as a Christmas gift from Mary)
   
6. A unicorn (Gift / memory: from Sam, once sat on my desk at work as an inside joke)
7. The most recent handful (out of a gazillion) Red Rose Tea animals my grandmother keeps giving me (Gift, yes, but good grief, I have to figure out what to do with these creatures before they take over)
   
8. The remnants of a vast Marvin the Martian collection I'd amassed in high school (Gifts)
   
9. Half of a wire sculpture Jeanne gave me 15 years ago (Gift / memory)
   
10. Pink, sparkly Emperor Palpatine (Gift)
    
11. Blue Lisa Snellings Poppet (Bought it because I love her work & wanted a piece)
    
12. COBRA action figures (Gift)
    
13. Wooden sculpture I got out of a vending machine with Melissa (Memory)
    
14. Jade carvings my mom brought back from China (Gift / Memory
    
15. The King (Gift, doesn't really apply to this topic since it's not like I'll keep putting up an expired calendar, but it's in the picture.)