Saturday, May 13, 2017

Taboos, Hoo-hoos

Smile … Hah!

“Smile though your heart is breaking…La La La.
 Smile though your heart is aching ….”

“Medicate though your mind is crazy …
 Medicate though your will is lazy …”

“Cutting” is considered self-harm and a symptom of severe mental illness.  Paying someone else to jab ink into your skin, as in “tattooing”, is considered an “Art Form”?  I don’t really know.  I don’t have any tattoos, but I am told by any number of friends who are really into tattoos, that it can really hurt. 

So I can go somewhere and hand over several hundred dollars and get a picture or some stupid symbol, of whose meaning I might have only vague knowledge, jabbed permanently into my skin.  Or, I can stay home and carve a couple of lines on my self somewhere.  And, two weeks later it has healed up and gone away. 

Now I am not advocating this.  I am not advocating cutting!!!  God forbid, anyone should advocate self-harm.

But … think about it.  To display grief over the death of a family member, many, many, many, cultures have all kinds of severe, some super severe, things they do to display their grief and respect and, I guess, love for the departed.  A lot of them fast – as in starve themselves – for, sometimes, lengthy periods of time (like a month).  The indigenous Hawaiians used to knock their front teeth out.  And, remembrance tattoos are common, but so is self-scaring and even branding.

I’m just pulling up the question … I guess.  Some things, cultural taboos ‘n stuff, kind of fascinate and sometimes frustrate me.  For instance, women’s high-heeled shoes.  I don’t get it.  They’re terrible for their feet, uncomfortable (I hear), sometimes downright dangerous, bad for their backs – all kinds of negatives.  For what?  To appear a few inches taller?  Balding men who wear ponytails or hair buns?  What are you trying to say?  Can’t get your motorcycle helmet over a ponytail or a bun, and if you do somehow cram your stupid bun in the helmet – looks really stupid when you take it off.  And, we can still see you’re bald!

Fascinating, to me, is also the American thing with bumper stickers.  Some are really funny, some are cool, some are really foul; but why you take something you spent a huge amount of money on and stick stickers (?) on it.  It’s like getting a tattoo on yer face?  Tattoos are fine, but – well, on your face is kind of  … ;;; what the fuck are you saying with that?

To wrap up – so much is so dependent on how you look at something like behavior.  For my own part, if tattooing wasn't so expensive – assuming you hire an artist with real talent – I'd be as tatted up as a Hell’s Angel. 




Tuesday, May 9, 2017

The Two Faces of Two Faces

The Two Faces of Two Faces

I just finished watching a documentary about a young Canadian man who videoed his trials and tribulations in dealing with what was at first, diagnosed as bipolar disorder. 

It was slightly enlightening, and I mean that just as I said it, in that it was slightly enlightening.  Having had this diagnosis conferred upon me, some ten, or more years ago – I forget just how long ago it was, I was, naturally, intrigued.  It turned out to be very much like a number of films I have seen, and books, on the subject, I have studied.  Every time – every freakin’ time – these tales of woe and sorrow and courage(?) seem to be about, and made, by people who are, as a rule, single and have access to a considerable amount of money.

Often they include either a love(?) of the wonders of medical and therapeutic science or a lot of spiritual mumbo-jumbo and herbs and eating special dirt (or something).  Mostly they include little vignettes from supportive family members, or friends.  How brave, how courageous, what examples of marvelous courage!  Jeezuz!  At the most most of this stuff is mostly formulaic  - like Reality Shows (whose reality and why do they always follow the same thematic crap).

A current undercurrent approach to MI is that it is being over diagnosed and frequently incorrectly diagnosed, which has resulting in a lot of people being treated for the wrong issues and, worse yet, with the wrong medication.  It’s almost like a political election battle.  “All the licensed MD’s are just pill-pushers!  It’s a big conspiracy by Big Pharma to get masses of people addicted and grab massive amounts of casharoo.”

“Don’t listen to the AMA!”
 ETC……. Etc. Etc.

What game are we playing at here?

First of all, I am told I’m nuts.  I have a deep narcissistic psychosis.  Then I’m severely depressed.  Then I have PTSD.  Then I have bipolar II.  Now I am told I have a personality disorder – and NOT any of those other things.  My children have forgiven my behavior (partly), my wife (who basically thought I was just an assehole sometimes) has forgiven me (mostly).  But still the overall assumption has been, and remains (mostly) that I am broken in the brain-pan. 

Now.

That was my story, how I got this way is a completely different story, but let’s deal with this part.  Who, just who the fuck, is a person who wakes up in the morning wishing he just didn’t have to wake up, supposed to listen to?  And then spends most of every day, kind of, wishing it was the last day he had to go through.  But with a lot of effort manages to get through that.  Some medications (with really thought provoking side-effects), a bunch of exercises and other little tricky self-developed tools and maybe, just maybe, can get to the evening time with a bit of work under his belt.  Just who is that person supposed to believe?

AND, just suppose that person is not single without children, or does not have much money and has virtually no support network – why don’t we ever see stories about that person.  I’ll answer that; because those people do not have the time, resources and/or any kind of support system to push their story out there.

Rely on the witch doctors and be susceptible to breakdowns and tragically accidental incidents that can land you in a clinic, or worse, maybe jail.  Rely on the traditional medical community and be susceptible to a foggy, unemotional brain, slow witted, without a notion of creativity or imagination AND have the adventure of massive weight gain and/or liver damage.  !!!  (Oh and just a side issue – if you are of the male variety, one really cool {?} side-effect of a lot of these meds is that your sex life can become a distant memory.)

Personally, just like religion, if you can convince yourself that eating tree bark will help straighten out yer brain, then for gawd’s sake, eat tree bark.  Somewhere there has to be a middle-ground.  Having the symptoms of a Mental Illness obvious as can be to yourself and everyone around you, is kind of proof that there is an issue you must deal with.  Getting a label for that issue can be kind of helpful, at least in the beginning when your daily life-style gets completely whonked.  After a number, like maybe ten or twenty years, that label gets very tiresome to lug around.  And often feels like it’s just an excuse for other people to treat you like some kind of an emotional invalid. 

So, speaking from a backlog of about 60 years of dealing with this on a personal level, here is my first recommendation.

“Search for a methodical life pattern which will sustain you and stick with it as long as possible.”  This is just #1.  I will get into others with other blogs.

Caveat: “Don’t let it break you though, if that methodical life pattern collapses from time to time.  Just “hang in there”, stay in the game and look for a new one.” 


dalepeterson.us
Books on Kindle by Dale Clarence Peterson
Peterson ArtWorks on Etsy

Note: for the brave among my dear readers, I offer a new, separate but different blog:
study in a matter of theory and conjecture about human brain-mind development towards retaining ever increasing meta-cognitive development.  Based on Mathematics, and I refer to Base 3 Calculus. I wouldn’t expect a whole lot of people to give it a try.  But if you are in any manner open-minded and intellectually curious, the Math used is truly only a tool to condense the theory proposed. 



Just published  “Twelve Roses for Kathy – A journey on a motorcycle out of the darkness of bipolar disorder”




Friday, May 5, 2017

Monsters, Madness, Mania and Meaning

Monsters, Madness, Mania and Meaning

I have long contended that creative genius, or even creative actions (All forms of Art and progress in the hard Sciences, Math, etc.) come from the minds of persons who are clinically, or could be determined to be, mad. 

How can any human mind create, or make, anything beyond what is termed reality – what is the now, what is part and parcel of “what is known”?  These people must have the ability to fantasize and have the full confidence that they are capable of creating, from whole cloth, those very fantasies.  These individuals must be capable of transposing themselves into the world(s) of their fantasies, just in order to make those non-realities have coherency for others to perceive. 

When A.A. Milne wrote “Winnie the Pooh”, he had to be capable of transposing himself into the mind, and world, of a very young boy who believed with absolute certainty, that his stuffed toys were alive.  By any outside, professional psychiatric device, this would be absolutely defined as madness. 

It can be said that Milne did not actually believe his fiction was, in truth, reality.  I contest this.  His stories might be drawn from his own childhood, or from one he wished he had had.  But, for these stories to be as universally loved and to simply hold together as a literary Art Form, or device, he had to be accurate in his prose.  Mostly he absolutely had to be convincing.  There is simply no way he could have done this without the ability to actually enter, time and again, the mind of Christopher Robin.  Or, even the minds (non-minds) of the other characters, such as a honey addicted stuffed bear.  This ability can only be defined as abnormal.  Or, not normal. 

I contend that this same principle is an overriding principle in the act of creating.  Possibly, simply put, “why not”?  This is the “Why Not” principle.  Anyone, any normal intelligent person, can observe “what is” and form conclusions totally rooted in what is accepted as reality.  It is only those persons who can observe what is, form multiple conclusions as to that data and then expand it to why and then with an abnormal mindset, why not this other?  Other what?  Other anything.  Anything other than what is. 

The only conclusion left, observing Occam’s Razor, is that to create anything that is not here now, must absolutely become the intention of a person who can mentally go beyond that which all of those around them cannot (or will not).  If this person can go beyond they are seen as either deluded, if their notions remain as mere spoken notions, or possible actually insane, if those notions include actions.  Even, if those actions are harmless to anyone else.  An inventor is just a crazy inventor, until their inventions work – and they are considered a genius if those inventions return a lot of money and notoriety.  The same fucking person!  Unknown = nutcase; known + money = genius.

From madness to mania is not much of a step at all.  Or, often enough the first follows the second, when it is left uncontrolled.  When the madness raises its head, the personification is then named a monster.  Everybody knows Vincent Van Gogh.  When he was alive and working, he was a societal monster.  To be avoided.  To be ridiculed.  Now that entire museums are named for him and his work is almost priceless, his mania and madness are forgiven, since so much money is involved, it is forgotten.  He has not so much been rewritten by history, as he was reborn from the moment his work became recognized as of value.  Of Artistic moment.  Meaning  has been attached to his madness and mania, therefore his monster qualities have been subjugated to invisibility.

The list of persons who have ever accomplished anything of note and to whom this exact philosophy has been attached, is nearly endless.  The case could be made, it has happened to every one of them.

dalepeterson.us
Books on Kindle by Dale Clarence Peterson
Peterson ArtWorks on Etsy

Note: for the brave among my dear readers, I offer a new, separate but different blog:
study in a matter of theory and conjecture about human brain-mind development towards retaining ever increasing meta-cognitive development.  Based on Mathematics, and I refer to Base 3 Calculus. I wouldn’t expect a whole lot of people to give it a try.  But if you are in any manner open-minded and intellectually curious, the Math used is truly only a tool to condense the theory proposed. 


Just published  “Twelve Roses for Kathy – A journey on a motorcycle out of the darkness of bipolar disorder”



Monday, March 27, 2017

A Murder of Crows for Today

A Murder of Crows for Today

* Guy just pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.  In a Jeep.  Huge, massive, dirt-whomping tires.  Deep waffle treads.  Tires are sticking out, at least, two feet past the Jeep frame (which is illegal as hell in a lot of states).  This vehicle looks like it could climb Mt. Killamanwhackadoodle in deep mud.  And, he looks like he’d have a bit of trouble climbing a flight of stairs – young guy too.

Give ‘em enough gasoline and most Americans can do just about anything.

* Last Sunday somebody shit (yes, shit) in one of the shower stalls at my health club.  Stunk up the whole locker room like … well, like shit tends to do.  Being as it was a Sunday, the club was pretty empty.  At the time I was there, there weren’t any men left in the actual locker room.  I went into the shower area and the stall with the poo in it had the water turned on full blast, pointed at this ethical mistake. 

Okay, it happens.  It happens.  Young father comes in with his toddler son, or daughter.  Gonna go swimming.  Comes out of the pool and the kid is freezing from the walk from the pool area to the showers.  An experience that can shift the lower track for certain.  He’s showering down the kid and the kid drops one.  It can happen (I’ve raised six kids) – it can happen. 

He’s embarrassed, really embarrassed.  Maybe this is his first child.  “Oh deary me, what to do?”  Dude!  Walkin’ off and leaving it in the shower?  No, that is not what to do.

What really bothered me though, is that my health club doesn’t seem to want to hire very many male attendants.  And so, on a Sunday there isn’t anyone on staff who can come into the men’s locker room to clean it up!  And, yes I did go out to the front desk and make the female teen-ager on duty aware of it.  But, really, what can she do? 

* My oldest daughter has gotten on my case about my observations about – fat (how else to say it?) people.  Heftiness is okay.  We all like a bit of extra pie from time to time.  Maybe, with today’s general lifestyle, we don’t get quite enough calorie burning done and a few extra survival pounds accumulate around the waistline.

But, when a visit to Walmart becomes like a carnival bumper-car venue because no less than half the people have to use those little battery cart devices, it has become something to pay attention to.  Pads of butt hanging off each side.  Filling up the whole aisle like that refreshment cart stewards use on airplanes.

* Speaking of which, on the airplane, you are asked if you would like a beverage.  “Yeah have you got Coke?”  “Yes.”  And, they pour from an open can of soda, or they open one and pour from that, into a small plastic cup. 

I get it.  The airline industry is struggling with costs.  No more meals, that is free meals.  I don’t generally drink soda anyway and being as I am a vegan, if I didn’t stipulate my veganism way ahead of time when booking the flight, I didn’t get anything.  Keep your bubbly and jerked dead animal.

But, isn’t there some other way to deal with the cost overruns than going so-o-o cheap on the snacks.  It’s humiliating.  Humiliating for the person in the customer’s seat AND humiliating for the stewards – parsimoniously portioning out parts of snacks. 

While the owner of the airline, and his or her dog, Freddy, gulp down full, non-portioned, cans of soda.

* Pretty soon, there won’t even be stewards on the airlines.  They’ll put some kind of vending machines in the back and you’ll have to read the little card about your seatbelt, yourself.  Can’t read, too lazy to read?  I hope you’re wearing a helmet.  And, instead of clean restrooms on the planes, they’ll have Port-a-johns duct taped to the sides of the plane – like maybe on the wings.

*Watching an old Indiana Jones movie.  Indy is on some kind of plane in South America and there are goats running up and down the aisle and people sitting there holding chickens.  I’ve been to South America and yes, people do take their livestock on public transportation.  So, while it’s kind of funny to compare that style of living and customs, as compared to the spoiled American standard, doesn’t it bring to mind something? 

Evolution?  Maybe, Science?

Several species of animals, inside a metal tube weighing in the region of tons {?}, flying.  Mother Nature has be looking at this, “WTF?  Hey, one of those animals is a fucking bird!  (“I put wings and feathers on that dickwad!!!”)

* I love comedy and listen to a lot of it on my cellular device.  I have become somewhat exhausted with the joking about vegetarians and vegans as being some sort(s) of weirdos, strange … jeeze, what-the-fuck-ever.  I haven’t eaten dead animals and their by-products for most of my life and I’m really, really old and not tired or anything.

Do whatever you want.  Eat dirt if you want.  I’m not even going to make a case for not eating aminals.  Just don’t try to milk funny out of your own dumbidity.  Let me just turn the turn-around.  First you mow down a rainforest, that has the only natural cure for cancer in some endangered orchid.  Then you stick wa-a-ay too many cows on it.  You pump them full of enough estrogen (to gain artificial weight) to grow tits on a rock AND jugs of anti-biotics to keep them from dying – diminishing your own immune system to zero.  Keep ‘em fat and stupid (where have I seen that before), drive a steel bolt into their brains, hike ‘em up overhead and strip ‘em down to the bones.  THEn, more chemicals, sprays and food-dyes, rat poison to counteract all the rats that crawl around on the carcases, pooing everywhere. 

And, then, and then, burn it to kill the remaining scurvy all the chemicals missed and to render it more easily digestible.  Allowing for your own body to gather hardened fat in your cardio-vascular system, destroy your colon and, and, and (here’s the bonus) shorten your lifespan by a significant level.

“Yeah, well I couldn’t live without bacon!”  First of all bacon comes from pigs, not cattle.  But anyway, take all of the above stuff to get beef on your plate and triple it to put bacon on your plate.  But, but, but then, anyway WTF!  When humans had to survive - like - glaciers in the backyard and hike across a continent to get fresh water, high-end protein was pretty important.  Those are no longer real issues, for most of us.  Bear in mind, those guys lived about 25 years.  You can’t even get a motorcycle license, or a tattoo, until you’re 18!  Can’t legally buy a bottle of beer until you’re 21.

“Hey Dad! Can I have a sip of your antelope beer (whatever)?”
“You can have the whole thing.  I think I’m back into the cave and die.”

There is no real point to the this vegan/megan battle.  I don’t drink alcohol either, so after you’ve had your steak and four gin and tonics, we can still be friends.  I’ll drive you home.

© Dale Peterson 2017