Tenken at Heart

What I Should Scream

2012-01-30T01:39:00.000-07:00

A study has shown that screaming and swearing actually elevates your pain tolerance. This may even explain the strong urge to vocalize hurt; it actually alleviates the pain.

Would it work the same way if I screamed "I miss you" and "I love you" at the top of my lungs? Would this stop hurting if I shouted it?

To say "I miss you" isn't the right term. I've seen you, and it hurts. You look too beautiful. That beauty traverses the senses, prompting a hope for your scent, startling my skin with unfulfilled anticipation. It's not a pleasant thing. It's an always ill-timed reminder of what's missing.

And that's the right term. It's not that I'm missing you. It's that you're missing.

How you crawled under my skin so fast remains a mystery. I shouldn't hurt this bad for you. I've dated girls for much longer and hurt much less. Yet the pain is undeniable, always in the first-person present tense. Somehow there's a hole where you tore away.

It's not that I want you back. My life is a mess, and you don't need that. You're high-stress, and I can't handle that. I'm depressed, and that suffocates you. You're angry, and that scorches me. My obsessive bruises your escapist, your flighty plays catalyst to my insecure. Trust me, the incompatibilities were evident from the beginning. And we wanted different things. It's sad how close the scales were to weighing in on the other side, but reality is what it is.

I keep coming back to a quote from The Mighty Ducks, a movie that transformed my childhood (underdog movies having an obvious kind of appeal). The coach has lived in regret for decades, never able to forget a shot he missed by "a quarter of an inch." Charlie (one of the kids he's coaching) responds, "Yeah, but a quarter inch the other way and you'd have missed completely."

In a game I've been playing obsessively (Mass Effect, which has been my attempt at refuge from the current pain), one potential romantic interest pulls you aside to talk as you approach a final conflict – and almost certain death. To paraphrase, she says, "Whatever happens here, I just wanted to thank you. For everything." This same sentiment appears in the Japanese version of Final Fantasy X, where the English-version final line of "I love you" is replaced with "Thank you."

I'm trying to remain grateful for the opportunities I've had. I just wish that the emotions of romance could be played in reverse. I know, in the long haul, I'll look back and feel this was all worth it. In the midst of the pain, that reality is easy to forget. If I could hurt first, then feel the joy, the pain would at least offer a horizon. But with the pain being at the conclusion, leaving us in a state of loss and past-tense happiness, the only option for that hope resides in starting the cycle over again – dooming ourselves to a repeat of this pain.

Maybe I should try screaming, the next time I find a sound-proof place. Not "I love you," but "Thank you." Not "I miss you," but "You're missing."

Battlefront

2012-01-24T22:14:00.001-07:00

I strap the training gloves on, the black vinyl flexing against my knuckles, the double-wrapped binding tight against my wrists. I take my simple stance: legs shoulder width apart, left in front of right, bent at the knees.

Damn you for looking so beautiful tonight.

My opponent for this sparring session? A six-foot “Wavemaster” model, the XXL, that boasts 400 pounds of weight to keep it planted regardless of what you throw at it. Its sleek black skin – the sort of ebony they might have lied about when discussing African warriors back in the imperial age – taunts me.

First punch – “one,” a jab, used to find range to your opponent. You find power at the full extension of your reach because it lets you get the full momentum and waist-swing involved. Follow-through is important, but the punches that really explode happen right at the end of your range. The jab is at a good reach; I hit it, but couldn’t push through too far.

Screw you for being so talented.

Second punch – “two,” a cross, one of the more powerful punches. Since it’s coming from your back arm, you can swing your hips into it. Plus, your back arm is going to be your stronger one. Add this to a step in with your left foot, allowing for even more speed to the attack, and it’s easy to see why this technique is important to master. I hit the bag with force and it falls back momentarily.

Forget this.

Third and fourth punches, both jabs.

Forget all of this.

And a cross. Cross again. Then kick. The kick comes from your hips, too, and will always be done with your back leg. You want your shin bone to make contact with the side of their upper leg. Almost no one stretches that part of their body right but we’re always using it: it’s dense with nerves, and it’s always tight. The sole purpose of this kick is to inflict pain. My legs are stronger than my upper body; the bag tilts on its side then falls back into place with a noisy thud that likely disturbed the downstairs neighbors. It is almost midnight, after all.

God – fucking – damn it.

Jab, jab, cross. Cross, cross, kick. Kick, kick, side elbow. For the side elbow, you bright your fist into your chest to strike your elbow across their face. It requires close range, but you’re working with a lot of bone and you’re aiming for a fragile surface. It’s easy enough to break a nose, or even crack open someone’s forehead. I saw one fight where they had to halt the action just to be sure the elbow-made gash wasn’t bone deep.

God. Fucking. Damn it.

Jab, cross, cross. Jab, cross, side elbow. Cross, cross, kick, cross. Kick, kick – pause. On that last kick I forgot to raise my hands to protect my face. I need to practice that. It’s easy to drop them if you’re not concentrating. I reset my stance.

My breathing is heavy, but that started before I picked up my gloves. That started the moment I was far enough out of eyesight from you that I knew you wouldn’t see me react; call it a panic attack or minor freakout or whatever you want, but I was holding it in that entire time. Thinking of your goddamn shoulders in that dress. Thinking of the brightness of your smile set into those faery cheeks. Thinking of the way you laughed from across the room.

Jab, cross, cross, cross. Jab, cross.

Thinking of your new haircut.

Kick, kick, kick, jab, cross.

Thinking of the way you read your words, the melody of your voice.

Jab, cross, side elbow.

Thinking of the bedding and the headboard and the new bathroom decor and the thousand other things I bought to try and make you happy here. Thinking of the thousand things I was trying to make that you’ll never see. Thinking of the suffocated plans, asphyxiated dreams, that won’t ever be written.

Jab, cross, cross, cross, cross, cross, cross, cross, cross.

Now, with each strike, the bag is dragging back across the room, nudged by my strikes. Through the vinyl, my knuckles scream. The bag’s skin has wrinkled into creases, though who knows how that happened with my simple volley of blows.

Jab, cross, cross, kick, kick, kick, cross, kick, cross, kick, side elbow, jab, cross, cross, down elbow, cross, side elbow, knee, knee, knee, front kick, front kick, kick, kick, kidney shot, kidney shot, jab, cross, cross, jab, cross, kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, kick.

The bag is at the edge of the room now, threatening to damage the drywall. I take a few steps back, panting, breathless.

People always ask who’s face it is on the bag. Am I picturing my boss? Am I picturing my teachers? … am I picturing her?

I charge back in, inelegantly, not bothering to protect my face, and hit the bag again. And again. And again. My mind floods with a stream of cusses.

My violence lacks the sort of clarity that pictures a person where I strike. Maybe this bag is my world, the world I want to destroy so badly. Maybe it’s all those hopes and desires that I want to let go of. Maybe it's the way you said "I love you," or that you ever did. Maybe it’s the part of me that demands I suffer for a person I know I can’t have. Maybe it's the overclocked heart in my chest that refuses to get over her.

Or maybe this bag is my broken mirror.

Clearing My Head: Part 2

2012-01-13T17:18:00.001-07:00

Apparently the way I vacation now is to have work done on my car, research school options, and go grocery shopping. :)

I won't go too much into the car troubles, except to say that it's being ... mean ... and not always accelerating ... and making funky noises. My car might die in Cali, which is a kind of fun thing. I've been thinking of getting rid of it anyway, and I could get a flight back instead of driving 12 hours on Monday.

I got a rental car while my car's in the shop. And I bought sushi and a bunch of fruit.

I know there will be other sets of emotion to process regarding the end of my most recent relationship, but so far what I've felt more than anything else is an overwhelming amount of gratitude. To have met her. To have had these experiences. To have learned these lessons. To even know there are people like her, with the talent and passion she had.

It's not a "wish I could have her" thing. It's a "the highs were phenomenal, I learned so much, it was the right choice to let it die." It's weird to feel that sense of gratitude when my history tells me what I normally feel is pain and anger. I'm sure those will come too. But right now I'm just so grateful.

Also ... sleepy. Haven't slept in ... so long. Going to bed now.

Clearing My Head: Part 1

2012-01-13T07:37:00.001-07:00

So, the Blogger app seems better for writing content here. I guess I'll use that!

On Facebook I mentioned that I'm currently in Las Vegas, clearing my head after -- well, a lot of things, but the final straw was the end of a tumultuous relationship. I'm heading to California to try to get away from my stressors and, in some small degree, myself.

I'm taking a break in the Bellagio. Pandorica ('98 Plymouth Neon) has been behaving splendidly, but the engine's starting to whirr a bit and I want to be sure I don't push her. Plus, I should prbably eat. (That's always one of the hardest things for me after the end of a relationship; I think starvation is a way to seek an emotional reset by tapping into the survival instinct's override capabilities?)

I'll be heading on to Long Beach for the rest of the weekend. I'll try to update here as I go, but no guarantees; I'll be busy, and this tablet has really limited typing / not frustrating Rob capabilities.

2011 - A Year in Review

2012-01-07T07:57:00.003-07:00

I'll try to keep this brief.

In 2011, I:

Moved back down to Utah Valley
Paid off all my consumer debt
Met some very cool people
Attended school for two full-time semesters, completing 24 credit hours with a ~3.8 gpa
Published in two lit journals
Wrote a bunch of new material, including creative nonfiction stories
Worked toward effective medication of ADD, depression, and other medical issues
Delved into some of my "mystery" medical issues to discover underlying causes and potential solutions
I created some websites, including my own portfolio space, a resurrected version of Seraph Swords, and several other projects
I earned 38k as a self-employed writer / SEO consultant

It was a strong year. I made some sacrifices and some gains. I feel that 2012 will be better.

New Year's Resolution for 2012

2012-01-07T06:58:00.001-07:00

I will meditate at least 200 times by the end of 2012.

I will do yoga at least 200 times by the end of 2012.

Terms and definitions? Meditation is at least 10 minutes, yoga is at least 20, and at maximum I can count one morning and one evening session of each for a given day.

5-Year Plan

2011-12-10T20:38:00.001-07:00

2012:

Spring '12, I will take16 credit hours of classes, making me a Junior. Summer '12, I will take 9. Fall '12, I will take 15 credits.

I will be paying for bills with my work, but will use student loans to create financial cushion and pay for tuition / books.

I will take on a position of responsibility with the English Club. I will seek publication credits.

2013:

Spring '13, I will take 15 credit hours of classes, making me a senior. Fall '13, I will attend 18. Summer '13, I will attend 9. This will mean graduation.

I will take on a position of responsibility with the English Club. I will seek publication credits.

At the point of graduation, I will have $45,000 in student loans.

I will have applied to grad schools in the months prior; by the end of the summer, I should be accepted to a grad school. Among other programs, I will be looking at CSULB – California State University of Long Beach.

In Fall '13, I will move to Long Beach and begin attending classes at CSULB. I will be teaching at the undergrad level while doing so; this will allow me to pay in-state tuition and get a large credit toward my education. Loans will cover the remainder and provide a cushion, although some freelance work will still be necessary.

2014:

In '14, I will focus on continuing the two-year MFA program offered by CSULB. My summer will be spent earning / saving money to serve as a financial cushion. I will also seek publication credits.

2015:

In Spring of '15, I will complete my MFA. I will be 28 when I do so. I will have accumulated an additional $25,000 in debt, partially due to California's high cost of living.

My total debt will be $70,000. I will have searched for teaching opportunities at a University level, possibly teaching at CSULB itself. I will aim to bootstrap my experiences and pay off debt until my student loans have been eliminated; average university professor wages compared with the cost of living indicate that a $40,000 annual surplus will be possible (with said bootstrapping).

2016:

I will spend the year teaching and working on independent projects, paying off my student loans by the end of the year. At that time I will have an established job and will move toward buying a house – most likely in the Long Beach area.

House, beach, MFA, career, experience, security ... yeah, I think this'll work as a general outline.

Meds

2011-12-08T05:20:00.001-07:00

Placebo's album Meds is absolutely one of my favorites. The line that sums up the sentiment for me – a line that I can fully relate to – is "I'm medicated, how are you?"

Well, I really, really am. Right now I have 15mg of Dex in my system for my ADHD. I have prescription pain meds for my back. I have behind-the-counter cold remedies for this ear ache that I've had for two months. The celexa, an antidepressant that was just as bad as I feared it might be, is still working out of my system. The clonnies are probably still in me in trace amounts. And now, on top of all that, I've got a beta-blocker. That beta-blocker calms my heart down.

Apparently I have tachycardia – meaning my heart that works like an overclocked CPU, that it simply runs too hot. My average heart rate for the day I was monitored was 104. More frightening was my recovery heart-rate – the reason I went in to get monitored in the first place.

When my heart rate goes high, it takes a while to calm down. Or, as the cardiologist puts it, it just doesn't come down. "You were flying," he said. "You were flying." This because I ran 1.5 miles in 21 minutes – the slowest time in my class but sufficient to raise my heart rate to 205. After averaging ~160 during the hour of the jog, my mean heart rate stayed above 100 for four hours.

The best case scenario here was that the doctor would just say, "Rob, you're being dumb and paranoid. You're completely fine." The second best is that he say that they knew what was going on and they could fix it. That's what happened.

The beta-blocker I'm on should lower my heart rate without impacting my energy levels, messing with my meds, or doing anything bad to my health. Quite the contrary: I should be able to exercise far more effectively now. I will no longer feel wiped after minor workouts, he said. I will have a heart that actually recovers, instead of continuing to race – to exercise, intensely – for hours after I've stepped away from the activity. He also suggests that my anxiety may be largely due to the tachycardia; he says a heart rate that sits at 30 points above healthy, spikes at random, and doesn't come down, is enough to make anyone a bit anxious.

It makes me feel good to hear this. It makes me feel that things will get better. It makes me feel that maybe I wasn't just lazy; maybe my body just didn't want the inevitable 7-hour heart workout that happened when I went for a 30-minute jog. It makes me feel that maybe I'm not broken; maybe my heart is just spinning too fast, and that this can be resolved.

Right now, my heart feels happy right now to be beating at only 80 bpm.

Buy Me Watches

2011-11-24T21:06:00.001-07:00

If you want to know what to get me for Christmas, I recommend busted watches.

I love toying with them, trying to fix them. You can usually find them on eBay, labeled as being "for parts or repair," costing as little as $5 – shipping included. While I prefer the simple, classy watches (Bulova, Fossil, Patek Philippe, Lange & Sohne, Zenith, etc.), anything will do; these are for play, not necessarily for wearing.

Point being, you can nab me one cheap, and if I get 10, that's fine by me. So if you're one of the people who wants to get me something and you were lost as to what I'd like, there you go.

Weigh-In: 206

2011-11-09T15:33:00.002-07:00

I've switched to a new scale, so there's no guarantee on how accurate a reflection this is of my progress. However, the scale I used previously isn't well under my control, and it was out of the way to weigh myself. So this is the new attempt; I bought a high-class scale that stores weigh-in information and all that jazz.

According to this scale, I now weigh 205.6. That's 4 pounds from 9 days ago, but obviously at least some portion is a difference in the scales (which one is more accurate, of course, is a difficult question). Hopefully I'm still losing weight at a healthy pace.

The good news is that I'm well on track for getting to the goal of "under 200 by the end of the year." In fact, under 200 by the end of November may be in the cards. If I pull off "under 190 by the end of the year," I'll be fairly ecstatic.

Weigh-In Update

2011-10-30T04:04:00.000-06:00

This week's weigh-in wasn't done using my standard method or location, so it could be off. I weighed in at 210 on my home scale.

Last week was 212 or so. We're on a track that's not totally unhealthy.

Anyway, it's the last weigh-in of the month, so snapshot:

Compared to last month:

And to the start of this trip:

For More Socialism....

2011-10-30T03:50:00.001-06:00

Facebook has become my place to debate socialism. Sadly.

Instead of re-explaining the concepts, I'm putting together a ~blog to talk about it. Not often. Just at times, when I'm sick of repeating myself.

Here it is: http://www.SocialismMatters.com/

Cheers,

Comrade Rob

The Occupation

2011-10-27T07:30:00.003-06:00

The Occupation

The Capital
In New York City, my people are babbling on Wall Street. They paint on henna; they haven't figured out their desires enough to make demands; musicians show up and play covers of 60s anti-establishment songs; they pray that the revolution will start to tonight, but they have no idea what the world would be like tomorrow if it did.
All my people know is that there's something very wrong, and that they're angry. So they scream and they scream, hoping that their scattered words will resonate loud enough that someone will finally turn to listen.
Not that they'd know what to say.

The Game
This year:

The bailouts cost $70 billion.

The U.S. corporate tax cuts give $310 billion.

The Department of Aggressive Defense spends $710 billion.

And someone tells me “the corporation is the basic unit of society.”

Today, I write a 7-page analysis of the GOP candidates.
I vote for one group or the other like I select a sports team. Every two years, I tune into this sport of rhetoric. Between, I pick either football or poker.
This year’s field is so war-torn and muddy that it’s sure to be a show. And when I get stressed, I can always remind myself: it’s just a game.

The Capital

In Salt Lake City, my people occupy a park. They hold up signs claiming they are the 99%. Statistically, this seems likely.

They can’t stay overnight due to city regulations. A city official has released a statement that he hopes they have filled out the appropriate forms to gather and to march. He says he doesn’t want the police to break them up, but for the sake of preventing bad traffic, he might have to.
My people grumble. I do not. I hate traffic.

The Guns
In 2008, I campaigned for Obama. I went to a party where every Democrat in Utah County gathered. There were seventeen of us.
I made calls. I wrote long essays. I saw the Oxford English Dictionary officially adopt the term “Obamarama.” I heard people talk about this man as if he were their salvation.
I told people at work that I was an Obama supporter. My boss sent me a picture of a gun that shot in the direction of the shooter. The caption read: “A gun designed for liberals.”
It is October this month, and the world blossoms into pink. There are signs talking about “beating breast cancer” and “waging war on breast cancer.” I wonder if breast cancer is evil; I feel that no one’s really sat down to chat with it and give it a fair chance. Maybe it’s just lonely.

My Aunt Linda kept it company for a while. She was a happy, plump woman, so the time must have been joyful.

Linda was in treatment and her husband was working a second job to pay for the bills.

Humana made $647 million in profit the year she died.

Linda was in treatment, and her son went on a Mormon mission to make her proud.

Aetna made $1.4 billion.

Linda was in treatment, and her 15-year-old daughter with the one glass eye would look at her softly, silent, then go post messages on Facebook that made the anonymous world want to cry.

Wellpoint made $2.5 billion.

It’s not a healthcare service, it’s an industry. It’s not a cancer treatment. It’s a product.

The insurance refused to cover the medicine, even though it was the only thing to stop the pain. The last time I saw her, she was a broken skeleton I couldn’t recognize.

Maybe that’s why the cancer wouldn’t keep her. She no longer cheered it. It was lonely … needed to move on.

The Capital

On the web, my people believe that they’ve found their salvation. They believe the revolution will be tweeted.

My people believe they need no leader, because it is a movement of the masses. They believe that chaos will collapse into order.
My people believe that the answers will come when they shout the questions long enough.
My people believe.

I stopped believing in prayers like these when the bullies came to school the very next day, breathing and everything.

The School
In the movie Lucky Number Slevin, the opening sequence is Bruce Willis telling the plot’s back-story to a complete stranger. Then Willis says he’s in town for a “Kansas City Shuffle.” The stranger asks what that is, and Willis responds, “It’s when everybody looks right, and you go left.”

Then he snaps the stranger’s neck.

In 2009, I go to an elementary school. I walk through the halls with the distinct impression that everything has shrunk over the years. The doors seem narrow and the lights hang low. Everything has a plastic-fruit sheen.

I think about trying to find something to dunk with when I get to the gym. It may be my only opportunity as a 5’6” guy to do so.

But I just vote instead.
After, a journalist comes up to ask me questions. When I tell her my political affiliation, she says, “I thought you people didn’t vote.”

The air here kind of tastes like cardboard. I look around at the markered posters with smiling faces telling children to eat lots of veggies.

It’s all so small, it kind of feels make-believe.

The Capital

In Provo, where I was raised, my people are protesting at Wells Fargo. They are mad at the bank and they are closing down their accounts. They are telling others to do likewise.

They can’t tell me what this will accomplish. They can’t tell me what Wells Fargo ever did to them or anyone, or even where people should take their money afterward. But they do not like Wells Fargo.
Once, a loan agent at a Wells Fargo gave me some bad information that cost me $300 in overdraft fees. I consider protesting.

The Berets
In 2010, I listen as the protesters scream inside the Salt Lake City capitol building. The expansive antechambers scream the echoes back, folding chaos into itself again, like origami gone terribly wrong. Like the kind of origami I make.

Revolutionaries who call me “Comrade Rob” say hello to me between the rally cries. I consider starting a debate with the two Tea Party counter-protesters who stand at the back of the room. I carry the red flag and lead a chant.

I try not to laugh.

The girl I’m dating, a pink-haired soul, wanders and talks to people, happy to be part of something bigger.

I keep watching the Latino girl with the brown beret. There’s just something about a revolutionary in uniform.

When I get home, I Google her.

They’re one of my favorites. They seem to think that you don’t have to be evil. And just picture how nice that is, working for Google. It’s a multi-billion dollar a year industry.

Not search engines. Lobbying.

This year there are 12,962 lobbyists.

Google spends $5.2 million a quarter. You put on your designer suit. You collect the papers developed by your staff writers and strategists. You put it all in your expensive leather briefcase, so shined that it’s like polished chrome. You stay in a hotel that actually shows its star rating and eat at restaurants where you can’t pronounce the names of the food, and where they want you to taste the wine before they give it to anyone else, like you’re checking it for poison.

You get $286,000 to do this.

Because you are needed, here. It is noisy and difficult. The antechambers are 3,452 miles across.

The Capital

My people write blogs. They sing songs. They make signs. They dye their hair. They think this issue is every issue. They demand a trillion dollars for education – without telling me where they mean to get it or what exactly they need a trillion dollars for.

My people are good at being on Facebook. They know how to be anonymous words in an anonymous place. They gather to be anonymous together. They scream their words into the echoing antechambers of New York City, Washington, Salt Lake, and every other nowhere that cannot hear them. They gather in the public places, their signs so small that it seems like make-believe, their hearts sinking because they cannot sleep in the park and they never filled out the paperwork – so the traffic is terrible.

The Poor
Bill Gates is below the poverty line.
Eric Schmidt, Sergey Brinn, Meg Whitman, Larry Page, Steve Jobs before he died.
Rockefeller would have gotten government checks. Carnegie would be arguing with the clerk, pissed off that he can’t buy energy drinks with food stamps.
Every lead in Atlas Shrugged would have qualified for welfare.
The rich today make a dollar per year. The rest is made for them, by the companies they own, the regiments, the armies.

The Capital

My people have taken to the streets. Some are hungry and some are cold. They are all angry. There is sound and fury here, signifying nothing – and for that very reason, meaning everything.

I do not know if the revolution will start tonight. If it does, I do not know who’s side I will be on.

I will demand blueprints.

The Cattle
If the U.S. wealth was a 100 acre field, and you let 100 cows graze on it like we do, then one cow would have 42 acres to graze on.
Another 19 cows would have 2.7 acres each.
Then 80 more would have 7 acres to split.

And if each 0.001 acres made the cows gain a pound up from 0, then those 80 cows would be 88 pounds each. The 19 cows would be 2700 pounds. And the one cow would weigh 42,000 – like a black-and-white spotted asteroid in a field.

If you had a 42,000 pound cow that had the normal ratio of meat to carcass, it would make 105,000 generously sized burgers. It would be a bloody mess, cutting through thick bone around wounds oozing with fat the texture of jello left out in the sun, but you can’t tell me that if you had a 42,000 pound cow that anything but slaughter would be the first thing on your mind.

And I wonder if that’s where the metaphor falls apart

or comes together.

.
The Capital

In Washington D.C., my people are absent.

They are on the streets and they are in the park. They are protesting and they are occupying.
They are screaming and singing and scheming. They are making forums and they are composing revolution in 140 characters or less.
They wear masks from V for Vendetta. They sell locally grown vegetables.
They are ready to fly themselves into an air carrier. They are ready to raise hell if they only knew where it was buried. They are ready to be lit on fire, like the Vietnamese Buddhist monks or Joan of Arc or like how I fantasize Ayn Rand.
These new-age Johnny Tremains put their soldered fingers to the hairline trigger, twitching against the hot steel, ready to wait for the whites of anybody’s eyes so long as they’re given directions on downloading the appropriate app and the order to blow the stranger’s brains out.
But my people are not in the capital. They are not in the capitol. They are not in the Capital.

Why the Republicans Will Give Mitt Romney the Ticket (If They're Smart)

2011-10-24T22:09:00.000-06:00

The GOP election is coming soon, and there's plenty of debate on who will get the ticket. While both Romney and Cain could win the GOP, only Romney could win against Obama. This entry explains why.

The Two Potential Candidates

Herman Cain and Mitt Romney at the CNN

While it's true that Perry has a distant shot, he's been declining the polls and has really shot himself in the foot on more than one occasion. As such, Cain and Romney are the clear top candidates for the GOP at the moment.

Romney and Cain are very level in approval ratings, with a recent CBS poll showing them in neck-and-neck position and others polls indicating a similarly close race. (While there's one poll that shows Cain as holding a significant lead, that comes from Zogby, whose phone polling figures were off by 8.6 percentage points on average and whose internet polls were voted the worst polls in existence.)

Both Cain and Romney have advantages and disadvantages. I'm going to briefly cover both to demonstrate why Romney is the better candidate for the Republicans, assuming they want a shot at ousting Obama. But first, let's look at the voting landscape.

The 2012 Voting Scene

Occupy Wall Street and the Tea Party Polarize the Nation

We're looking at a country that's increasingly polarized, with the Occupy Wall Street movement on the left and the Tea Party movement on the right. While the often incoherent ramblings of both sides swarm into the media, being moderate has become more mainstream. We've both seen an increase in independent voters and a slight boost to those declaring as moderate (taken mostly from those who once declared as liberal but who are dissatisfied with the Obama administration).

We know that whoever runs the Republican ticket will be facing Obama. Obama has a 41% approval rating and there remains a large portion of the population who are likely to vote for Obama even without approving of him (because he's a Democrat and a liberal, and they feel they'd be more satisfied with him than a Republican president). This means that Republicans will be fighting an uphill battle in 2012.

However, PEW research showed that 19% of all registered voters were uncertain of whether they wanted Obama re-elected (compared to essentially even "prefer Obama" and "prefer Republican" alternatives). This means that middle territory is going to decide the election.

Additionally, independent voters usually vote in opposition to the existing power (a large chunk are people upset with existing problems that care more about fresh blood than specific policies), and the larger share of independents end up voting Republican. That said, independent voters also tend to be anti-corporate, feeling that special interests and corporate concerns outweigh the needs of the American people in the eyes of politicians. This means that Republicans tread a rocky ground that must convince indie voters that a change in administrative party will benefit them, not just corporations.

The Republican ticket won't have a great chance. However, they do have a chance to take it if they choose the right candidate and play the campaign in the direction of indies. While both Cain and Romney have their advantages, only Romney can win.

Cain's Advantages

Cain has his pluses. These include:

Appeal to the far right. He has an intensely high approval rating for very conservative and tea party voters.
He's black. This will actually have some sway; minority voters will take more time to evaluate issues if they are choosing between two black candidates. Cain is also good at using the rhetoric and propaganda that centers around liberation / opposition to slavery / civil rights.
He pitches simplicity. The idea of the 9/9/9 plan taps into one specific frustration for American voters: the feeling of being lost in the convolution and bureaucracy of anything Government-related. This is a real problem, and Cain claims to have a real solution.
He's likable. Cain sounds relateable, is direct, and is very good at his rhetoric.
He's not a politician. A background in corporate will be part of his pitch if he makes the ticket; he'll claim he's outside the bureaucracy but understands business.

Cain's Stumbling Blocks

Cain would face a lot of problems if he ran the ticket. He'd be targeted because of having no past experience in politics, which – given Republican criticisms of Obama during the 2008 election – would gain weight due to the established political climate. Additionally, this means no political record of effective economic policies.

He would also face great problems because he's completely unrealistic in his plans; the first thing I would do as a Democrat is force Cain to list which programs he'd cut after taxes were lowered, and then ask him why he wants to raise taxes on those below the poverty line.

Meanwhile, Cain's plan doesn't address concerns with the Obama administration, and actually raises similar issues of government debt and spending. Without the additional taxes for high-income earners, the U.S. budget would be even more treacherous and difficult.

Most importantly, he's far enough to the right that he'll scare away independent voters.

Why Cain Can't Win

An image capturing Herman Cain's "political" background.

If Cain makes the ticket, his popularity – especially among independent voters – is likely to decline in the face of an unrealistic plan, a lack of clear solutions, and no political experience. He will continue to get Tea Party support that will cause non-polarized voters to shy away from his extreme presentation. In the end, this will cause the 19% who are "unsure" to sway Democrat, giving Obama the ticket.

Romney's Advantages

Romney brings a lot of positives the table. These include:

He's intelligent. The way he comes off may not be as "nice" as Cain, but it makes him sound smart. In the economic scene, that's going to matter more.
He's playing the economic angle. Romney is playing the angle of "Obama didn't fix the recession." Romney even acknowledges that Obama didn't cause it, but he's tapped into Obama's weakest link: a lack of visible economic recovery despite trillions in stimulus spending.
He's proposed a plan for economic repair. This comprehensive plan for economic growth is 152 pages and outlines specific bills, executive orders, and actions to be taken. Unlike the 9/9/9 plan, this actually gives an outline and isn't completely unrealistic.
Appeal to moderate voters and independents. This is a huge deal; if Romney plays his health care reform bill correctly and puts his often moderate stances in the right light, he'll be able to win over many independent voters who have been dissatisfied with Obama's administration, poor economic recovery, and high spending.
A strong economic background. Not only does he have experience in business that he can leverage, he has demonstrated the ability to take a state from a struggling position to a more stable economy.
He's a politician. He has experience, accomplishments on record, and he knows how to play a campaign.

What Stands in Romney's Way

Oddly, one of the greatest disadvantages Romney faces is that he's been fairly moderate. That moderation will help him with independents while scaring off conservatives, with the idea of Romney's health care plan is actually the biggest barrier. This means this is only a barrier until he's on the ticket – assuming Republicans can avoid sabotaging their own.

What will stand in Romney's way as a presidential candidate in 2012 stems largely from prejudice against Mormonism. While bashing on Mormonism is becoming increasingly taboo (thanks to "cult" comments and similar) and the spotlight of election will show that many LDS values are very "American" (family values, hard work, community, faith, etc.), some elements of Mormon belief and history – and, more important, bias attached to it – will hurt Romney's campaign.

However, the applicable issue with Mormonism roots to the 2008 voting season. The Prop 8 actions supported by the LDS church will stand in Romney's way as some moderates and indies back away due to Romney's association. Additionally, Romney doesn't have a great or stable track record on the issue. He's now stuck in a catch-22: if he speaks against Prop 8, he loses consistency (and he's often accused of flip-flopping as it stands); if he speaks for Prop 8, he loses the all-important indie voters. He'll need to play this one with extreme care if he wants to win.

Why Romney Could Win

Watch this ad:

He's not just playing the strength of his own economic experience (both private and public sector). He's playing Obama's greatest weakness with some real intelligence; he's not making a claim that Obama caused it (in fact, de-regulating the banking industry caused it – and both Clinton and Bush can be handed some of the blame there). He's saying Obama didn't help and did make it worse.

Current unemployment rates, provided by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics

Whether that's true or not, Romney has figures to play with. And, more importantly, he has a 152 page plan, an established private sector presence, and a public sector track record that demonstrates his experience with economic recovery. That is a pitch that many independent voters can and will buy.

Add the fact that, past the GOP nomination, Romney's "weakness" of being moderate, working toward health care plans, and taking other middle-of-the-road stances will start to serve him. If he plays it right, center-leaning independent voters will take his path of moderation over Obama's liberal track record.

Meanwhile, Obama will be forced to play an anti-corporate, pro government program line. While this will appeal to many indies, it will carry less weight now – after four years of very slow recovery and very high spending – than it did in 2008. Additionally, the "too big to fail" mentality of some of Obama's past policies and bailouts will undermine this approach.

Also, Obama can't target Romney's Mormonism effectively. There's no question but that it will come up, and that it will hurt Romney, but Obama's own history with religion will make this a very weak platform for him; the Republicans can trade punches more effectively here than they could on many other grounds.

Obama would then have to prove that he's helped the economy in a notable way, that his plans are still going into effect and will continue to have positive impact, that spending the next four years taking back the last four would be counterproductive, that deficit spending will diminish or disappear, and that he has a plan for continued recovery.

Figure from an October, 2011 CBS poll.

Figure from the Bureau of Labor Statistics

Make no mistake: Obama will have to make quite a convincing argument. That said, he's got existing support, funding, and a show of significant economic recovery in some sectors. Still, the economic line definitely doesn't play to his strengths.

Is it enough for Romney to win the election? That's not exactly likely, but it is certain that Romney's support will increase once he's running against Obama. Because that undecided 19% are far more willing to listen to a moderate Republican with a strong economic background.

And Cain, a Tea Party hard-right candidate with no political track record to speak of, no proof of economic recovery as one of his capabilities, and no realistic plan – he simply won't be heard.

Seeking a Community

2011-10-24T18:42:00.001-06:00

I had two recent experiences that brought certain questions to light.

The first was a party where everyone drank heavily and things got fairly wild. I was astonished to find that the majority of men there, even people I have some solid respect for, were only too willing to take advantage of the drunken state of female attendees. I don't mean that they were happy the girls were relaxed and thus started conversations more readily; I mean that "black-out drunk" was not off limits to them by any stretch of the imagination.

This bothered me. I did what little I could, fumbling as I was, to request respect for all who were there – that nothing be done that anyone would regret in the morning. I wouldn't be able to say how much I actually helped, nor was I particularly rewarded. What I was left with was a sense that this is not my world. Try though I might, I'm not a college guy who does college guy things.

And then, the next day, I went to a family gathering. This is not always easy for me. First, there's the duress of being the only atheist in my extended family (and of not talking about it; I leave my family with a general sense that I'm "not Mormon," and only a few know the details of my beliefs). Second, there's the fact that my grandpa – an amazing man, and my hero – isn't doing well. He sleeps as much as he's awake.

While there, we sang hymns. I had to leave the room after we sang "Nearer My God to Thee"; the image of my grandpa leaning forward, hands pressed behind his ears to listen more intently, struck a lot of my love and fear that I'd tried to suppress. (I wrote a piece of creative non-fiction about this for anyone curious to hear more.)

Then my extended family talked about philosophy and religion. I always feel awkward doing this, partially because I'm something of a black sheep and partially because I feel that I ramble; I don't want others to think I'm taking over conversations or ignoring their viewpoints. It's hard to know how well I do at it.

The ongoing dialogue was really beautiful, though. In addition to talking about religions around the world, the importance of redemption, and the need for family, we talked a lot about community. My cousin Josh read a wonderful talk (he'd given it in church earlier in the day). In it, he discussed the importance of extrinsic value creation through church callings; it's not about who you are, or being perfect, but in creating a community where others – perhaps even everyone – can be happy, served, and taken care of. Your own edification is merely a side-effect of that journey.

It was a great talk, and it got me wondering. I feel so much more resonance with the ideals of my family, with the idea of a loving community and all that goes into it, than I do with the "standard" of the world. But I certainly don't fit with my family either; we are related by blood, but I feel like a perpetual outsider. I am the one who doesn't believe in God, wouldn't mind if he wound up with a male life partner so long as it made him happy, has lived with a past girlfriend, doesn't mind sharing his experiences with drinking and drugs, declares as a socialist. Etcetera. Etcetera.

I am not a Mormon. But I'm not just a non-Mormon either. I reside somewhere in the borderlands, always something different than everyone else. I'm tired of it, honestly, but I can't see a community where I really have a place. I want to build that community, but I don't know how, or even know where to start.

I want to conform. I want to find my place within a greater system, know my purpose. Too often, individuality is just the guise of consumerist conformity, of buying identities to fit our moods and having those moods bought by the market. Too often, the idea of "freedom" becomes a set of shackles that prompts us to look to our small and selfish internal world for answers that can only be found in our shared reality, in extending into something beyond ourselves.

The problem is that I can't stomach any of the forms I've see, so I can't rightly fit myself into them. I wish I knew how to make that community. I wish I could find others who believe like I do, who serve neither God nor Mammon, but want to build a better life for everyone. Sad to say, the experiences I have teach me that there aren't many who dwell in this borderland. We seem to be a rare breed.

Summing Up My Sexuality in 67 Lines

2011-10-11T20:35:00.000-06:00

[This poem has adult language and themes. Read at your own risk. Also, it was designed for performance. Oh, and post-publication, I realized today is "coming out day." That's hilarious! Totally fitting.]

Summing Up My Sexuality in 67 Lines

Am I gay?
This question comes up,
from outside, from inside,
from the boy I kissed on a dare when I was seven
through the years I cut away the confusion and fear
between the subtle homoerotic themes I find in my own prose
to the way, in the opening sequence of season three of Buffy, the shot of Angel's tatoo'd back makes my teeth tense,
through this strange pull, let's say (speculatively) stimulation,
settling somewhere around my hips
that I get when I see a well-toned man, but also a tall, awkward man,
but also a smart and passionate man,
but also bacon,
which is weird, because I'm pretty sure I don't want to fuck bacon –
but then, I'm pretty sure I don't want to fuck men.
It's confusing, trust me, I know.
But anyway, this question comes up.

Am I straight?
This option seems natural.
Between my amazing abilities to question myself, my past,
and my sanity,
I recall the way every molecule in my body lit up to the world, voice,
thought of the girls (yes, girls, plural) that I've fallen for,
the drug of their touch touch striking the vein so precisely,
the way those long-fingered hands and thoughts
stretched through me, scratched under my skin so quickly,
the fire ignited in, not just kissing,
but that three seconds after you've decided you're going to kiss, but before you've gotten up the courage to go in for the damn thing,
and then thinking,
"Oh, Christ, she must be able to feel my heart beating right now; it's way too fast; she'll think I'm having a panic attack; I hope she doesn't call an ambulance; I hope I don't faint; I hope she doesn't stop kissing me,"
my mind popping, bubble-like, at the chemistry of connection,
the primal thing in me broke from its chains as we –
well, let's not get too graphic –
but then again, let's go ahead –
but then again, the Tivo'd scenes playing in my mind, right now on repeat, hardly need elaboration.
It's a lot, trust me, I know.
But anyway, this option seems natural.

Am I bi?
Somewhere between the lines of all of the above,
following the Kinsey evaluation and the historical extrapolation
that we are none of us particularly one or the other,
just preferring the crash of a specific soul's color,
trained and strained by the social order
to interpret that which is other
as somehow evil,
until we bracket ourselves in a single label
that tells us it's okay, we're normal,
or maybe we're not but we still have a border,
drawn somewhere in the sands of our sexuality,
a desert that none of us may brave lightly,
what with the peril of being lost in the oceans of malleability
and the fear that we're not the same as we believed we would be.
It's overwhelming, trust me, I know.

But anyway, I'm option D, none of the above.
My conclusion is simple:
Love is alchemy.
We attempt to combine our soul's paltry elements
with that of another's equally mundane essence
in the hope that we might get a reaction that creates something new,
that exceeds the sum of its parts.
This is a mystic science that's more than risky:
We tread an endless path of improper theorems,
we face the fear of sudden explosions,
and in the rare of event of transfiguration,
the results are far too often temporary.
So yes, I have my feelings, thoughts, and memories,
but if I found someone who made me happy
why on earth would I let a Y chromosome stop me?

Finding Redemption

2011-10-09T19:41:00.000-06:00

Let's gaze back into the etymological origins of the word "redeem."

To deem again. Deem from the word doom, meaning to judge or form an opinion. Doom from domaz, meaning a judgment or decree. Domaz from dhe, the Proto-Indo-European term for setting, placing, or defining.

A redemption is a re-definition, an opportunity to set or place one's self differently. The Christian redemption is not a new form of redemption, but a new path to re-identification. Christianity provides a mythology (meaning the strictest literal definition: a story) by which that redemption can be achieved, and in that mythos the individual is able to transcend their being – as defined by their past – through the assistance of a being beyond normal human power.

That this being loves all humankind is not merely complimentary to this end: It is mandatory. As humans, our identity is tied to a past that's often filled with guilt, self-loathing, pain, sorrow, and failure. As we take on what may be our greatest human objective and challenge – that of conceptualizing the self – these negative states of being will invariably interfere with our potential to view ourselves in a positive light and even our ability to love ourselves.

It is our memories that establish our background, but the memories are subsidiary to our identity: The string that binds who we are is found in our name (that which we conceptualize as self), not in our past. Our names, and all that we tie to that identity, become the fiction to which our memory and experience must conform. Thus, the tradition of being "born again," or "taking on the name of Christ," atonement (meaning to become one), of losing yourself to find yourself, or of baptism (from the term baptein, meaning "to dye or color"), are symbolic acts wherein we can alter our fundamental identity: We re-define our names through the external name of a merciful and loving yet all-knowing judge.

Christianity certainly doesn't have a monopoly on re-naming. In Buddhism and Hinduism, there is a tradition of taking on a new name during initiation. Mormonism (a Christian yet distinctly non-traditional faith) gives a new name to individuals during their temple ceremonies. Jews take on a patronymic Hebrew name for religious ceremony. In all of these cases, the name chosen is a reference to an established identity which symbolizes specific values (e.g., the name of a patron saint, a sanskrit word, or a reference to a religious story).

Even sacredness (and related words, such as "sacrament") originates, not in an act of holiness (which itself originates from the term hal, meaning health), but an act of definition. "Sacred" stems from the Proto-Indo-European saq, meaning to "bind, restrict, enclose, protect." To sanctify something, then, is to bind it to a new and protected definition. Indeed, it may be that all religion is an attempt to negotiate self re-definition.

Is there something essential about our identity? Is it eternal and unalterable? Truthfully, these questions are above my pay grade. What is clear is that our conception of self is both absolutely vital and basically malleable. We use terms such as "I'm not that person anymore" in a sense that treads the line between literal and figurative. We are aware that we were that person, but our new definition of self is – according to our necessary internal mythology – a literally distinct being, tied to our former selves by experience only, rather than by identity.

So, as I look into my past, I have an answer to my most pressing question of "Can I be redeemed?" And of course, yes, I can. I can re-define what I am, and have re-defined what I am countless times before. But lacking a mythology that gives a medium of love, optimism, strength, and possibility (e.g., Christian atonement, Buddhist nirvana, Hindu moksha), those of my persuasion (i.e., non-believers) must find an alternate route to such re-definition.

So how can I find redemption without a medium that grants permission for re-definition? How can I change my conception from I am the person who is capable of these things to I once was the person who did these things but am no longer? How can I change from a definition of being essentially unlovable, broken, unworthy, and corrupt to something else?

Living in a world where we rely on an internal universe, and that internal universe relies on our conception of self, it becomes incredibly difficult to re-define what we are: The very platform on which we stand crumbles as we seek a self-reliant redemption. If we have defined ourselves as evil or untrustworthy, we may never be able to trust our self-re-definition as a good person. It may be that redemption can only come from external sources, be they lovers, friends, family, leaders, teachers, philosophers, mythologies, or Gods. By relying on the extrinsic definitions of ourselves, we are able to re-synthesize our internal definitions and re-establish an altered intrinsic self.

But isn't reliance on extrinsic definitions risky at best? It thrusts our very identity into the hands of others who will never see or understand us with the degree of detail we see and understand ourselves. Yet the worst bias we suffer from is our past identification, which is a bias that the other does not have. The other thus works as a mirror to the self wherein we can view our present self, our actions, our thoughts, and our beliefs without the weight of our former identity. It is the other who we strive for, because in the other we can see and establish our new self-definition. It is through the other that we can ultimately be redeemed.

A Fear of Valid Rejections: Surviving as a Writer

2011-10-09T02:07:00.000-06:00

For me, the hard thing about getting rejection letters, as a writer, isn't about being rejected. That stings, but you get used to it. It's more that so much of my life is about being an effective writer and storyteller. As the rejections stack up, and work that has seen many hours of attention per page is turned down by journal after journal, I start to question if I'm any good.

Is it my stories? Is it my style? Was I too long-winded? Was I too brief? Am I submitting to the wrong place? Am I just not there yet? Is it time to abandon this story? Is it time to abandon this dream?

And if I ever do get this work published, will my readers like it? That frightens me most of all.

I have my friends, my family, even some classmates and others, telling me that they like my stories and think I'm a good writer. I've heard this for years. But I look back at what I wrote back then, and I know it's rubbish. So I ask myself, since I'm blind to my own work, whether I'll ever know for sure that there's value in it.

Maybe this is practice for low book sales, negative reviews, and the reality that there is no author who has an unlimited audience; we all write to our type of readers, and we all have readers who hate our work. And as any writer knows, practice is important.

It's a tough industry. You sit there, writing and writing and writing, hoping that what you've put together has captured that spark that burst in your mind and forced you to start telling this story. You send submission after submission, vet journals to see if they're appropriate for you, read the best stories you can get your hands on. You say your little atheist prayers that it won't be for nothing. You do all this for free.

At the end of the day, you have a stack of rejection letters as tall as your manuscripts. You question every bit of hope and talent you possess. Maybe you even question if it's worth it at all.

And then the next idea hits you. There's a spark in your mind that won't let you sleep. So as you put your fingers to the keyboard, it's not about your questions or your need for validation. It's about this story, which will always matter far more than you do, and about letting that story sink into you until it runs through your veins, pumps in your lungs, and takes you over completely.

Utah Time-Lapse

2011-10-07T15:49:00.002-06:00

Landscapes: Volume Two from Dustin Farrell on Vimeo.

Be grateful we live in Utah.

Weight Loss Update (216lbs)

2011-10-07T10:22:00.003-06:00

My weigh-in today puts me at 216. While this is good news in some sense (I'm losing weight still, and it's a good deal closer to healthy; I lost 3lbs from last week, which is vaguely reasonable), I am a bit concerned.

The concern is two-fold. First, that 3lbs is right on the cusp between acceptable and unhealthy. Second, that I felt disappointed to have only lost 3lbs. While I've tried to remain rational during the extreme weight-loss of the last month or so, I didn't recognize the excitement in dropping that much weight until it stopped.

There's a fear that the slow in weight-loss may pattern into a completely halted weight-loss. That bothers me most. I've been very happy to be on course again, and while the ideal is to consistently lose 2lbs a week for the next 22 weeks (5 months), the idea of losing 4lbs per week and being at my ideal weight by the end of the year ... well, it definitely had an appeal.

I'm trying just to stay calm about it. That I'm losing less weight actually means my tactics for minimum calorie intake have been working. But anyway, that's the update. 216lbs today. My goal is 214lbs next Thursday.

Haunted

2011-10-02T15:35:00.001-06:00

Thanks to a creative non-fiction project I'm doing, I've been digging through my own past. I've stumbled through chat logs, emails, blog entries, journals, love notes, strange artifacts ... and it hasn't been easy. I've had the opportunity to more clearly see who I was, how I behaved, when I was younger.

I hate that person. Okay, yes, that may be harsh – but with what I've been looking at, it's the certainly the strongest response on my part. I try to look back with sympathy or understanding or even mercy, but what breaks the floodgates in the end is this completely penetrating sense of self-loathing.

Not of me now, not exactly, but certainly of who I was then. I feel haunted by the specter of my own past and the things I've done. There are so many mistakes I've made, people I've hurt, things I became, where I just kicked the dirt on top of the issue and called it buried. None of this is resolved. This project is helping me see that.

I keep hunting through it all, writing it out, re-living these old scenes from my life. Why? I guess the motive in the beginning was that these feel like stories worth telling. Now ... now I feel compelled. It's like when you have a dream and you wake up in the middle, and you know you're supposed to go to work or school, but you can't. You have to go back to sleep and finish the dream, because there's something there that feels so important. Even though you know you won't understand it, probably won't even remember it.

So I'm letting myself live in this haunted place. I'm hoping to accomplish I don't know what. Maybe capture a ghost? Maybe exorcise some old demons? Or maybe I just feel like I should live with my own phantoms for a while and do my best to understand what their whispers mean.

I still don't know if this is a good idea.

Freaky Weight-Loss

2011-09-29T15:27:00.000-06:00

I've been doing my weekly weigh-ins on Thursdays. On September 8th, I weighed in at 235lbs. It is now 3 weeks later and I weigh, according to the same scales, 219lbs.

It's entirely likely that it's mostly water weight. It's very likely that the scale is miscalibrated. The fact remains: I have lost something to the tune of 5 pounds per week. Which is not healthy.

I'm trying to lose weight, yes, but I'm not trying to lose it so fast! For now, I'm just going to write it off as the "bonus weight" you lose at the beginning of a program. Still, if this continues, it will lead to more than just raised eyebrows from me.

Anyway, current stats:

Weight: 219lbs
Waist: 37"
Approximate body fat: ~26%

9-29-11

And I'll do another weigh-in pic every month, on the final Thursday. Here's the last one I did, from July:

7-19-11

And, because I need a reminder:

12-6-08

A Note to Anyone Concerned (See Also: Dextrostat)

2011-09-21T20:16:00.000-06:00

It's come to my attention that some people may be worried about recent behaviors of mine. I actually don't know which behaviors of mine they're worried about, but there are only a few that I've started recently. So I have a guess.

If the concern is my medication, I would like to make a few notes. First, prior to talking to a doctor about receiving a prescription, I did thorough research. It was suggested that my anxiety may be a symptom of adult ADD; the two are also co-morbid a large percentage of the time. My previous descriptions of anxiety, as I give here, here, and here, point to specific issues with feeling overwhelmed by sensory stimuli, having trouble starting projects, becoming hyperfocused on activities that have high sensory involvement – all of which is highly compatible with a description of adult ADD.

I looked at online information to be sure I legitimately qualified for adult ADD. I also did research into popular medications, their side effects, and feedback from people who had taken it specifically for this purpose. I can tell you the half-life of this medication (10.25 hours), the path to addiction (if you use it for energy, the effects wear off after a couple weeks, prompting some to increase dosage ad infinitum to maintain the buzz), the negative side-effects (headache, nausea, trouble sleeping, loss of appetite, and drymouth are the most commonly reported), and more.

I spoke with the doctor about how the drug works. The basic idea is that people who legitimately have ADD get an inverse effect from the targeted stimulant; rather than feeling euphoric and overflowing with energy, their energy is focused and they are able to calm down. Because people with ADD do not get the euphoric side-effects, there is little chance of addiction. While those coming off of Dextrostat after long periods of use must still be careful (there is a "crash"), it is safe to wean off the drug after time or to stay on it for an extended duration.

I am not "doing drugs." I am seeking treatment. My work over the last three years, wherein I've spent a large portion of my time attempting to find more natural solutions for these issues, has helped me make great strides forward. Even so, my inability to focus has been the greatest source of anxiety and distress in my life. I honestly believe that this is because of ADD, or I wouldn't be following this path.

I am not taking the drug for energy. The fact that I can't sleep at night sometimes is an aggravation, and one that I'm glad is wearing off. I am not taking the drug to lose weight. I am concerned about how much my appetite has diminished, and while I'm very glad that I don't feel hungry all the time (as I have over the last several years), I want to lose weight in a healthy manner. I am not taking the drug for the "buzz." I don't get a buzz. I get a sense of clarity and the volume of the world seems like it's been turned down.

Further, the amount of anxiety that's been removed from my life has made it possible for me to adopt healthier eating patterns, quit smoking, and make other improvements to the general health of my life.

I completely understand being opposed to pharmaceuticals. They're a very industrial, risky solution to problems that have alternative fixes. However, for someone who has ADD to be effective in my profession, and with my life values and choices, the pharmaceutical treatment is a path to becoming functional. I hope to develop additional strategies that will help me work without medication in the future; I do not want to be reliant on a pill to be effective.

I completely understand the concern that ADD/ADHD has been over-prescribed, and even the argument that these diagnoses are inventions. I would argue that all diagnoses, from the flu to cancer, are inventions: we are merely describing realities that we see in ways that, while never entirely accurate, serve a practical function for treatment. Whether the swarm of ADD daignoses stem from blanket treatments or cultural changes that cause children to develop ADD, ADD describes very real hurdles and consequences for those who struggle with it.

I completely understand concerns with excessive weight loss and lack of sleep, and I have the same concerns. While my body continues to adjust, I will develop further strategies for staying healthy in these areas; as a couple examples, taking the medication no later than 2pm, having a "wind-down" period before bed to let tiredness catch up, and tracking calories for the sake of hitting a minimum intake are all part of my current routine.

So, yes, I completely understand the concerns. However, I want to reiterate that this is a choice that I made after thorough investigation, weighing of risks, and the prescription of a trained medical professional. I am not breaking the law. I am not doing this recreationally. I am just trying to get better.

More than Minor Miracles

2011-09-16T00:06:00.001-06:00

I slept one hour ... if I'm being a little generous. I blinked one too many times while Heidi and I watched Angry Beavers, and I was gone.

That's one hour of sleep since I woke up at 10am on Wednesday, and that 10am wake-up signifies only five hours of sleep. The day prior was similar; I slept six hours, from 4am to 10am. So over the last 90 hours, I've slept only 12. That can't be healthy.

And my weight is ... well, too low, actually. It's not something to complain much about, but I weighed in at 226 today – showing 6 pounds of weight loss in one week. Too much. Hopefully it's just a miscalibrated scale or water weight.

So why the big changes? It's not my "self-commitment," not exactly. It's the drug.

Dextrostat. A minor miracle in a pill. More than a minor miracle. I didn't realize until recently how much of my anxiety stemmed from an inability to focus on any given task. Then it fell into place. My reliance on caffeine and smoking as a way to calm myself; my scattered thoughts and how quickly I start and abandon projects; my inability to control the direction of my thoughts; my sense of feeling overwhelmed, often agitated, by sensory data; the sense that starting a project was impossible because my mind was choking on too much at once; the way, when I read, my mind wanders before I even finish reading a single paragraph; my habit of opening 19 tabs at once in Chrome; the way I almost compulsively play with my hands; my hyperfocus on overstimulating activities as a way to make myself feel more sane; even my inexplicable irritability.

I am an ideal candidate for Adult ADD/ADHD. And, as it turns out, the doctor agreed with that assessment – though I'm sure my high school diagnosis of the same didn't hurt. He prescribed this bottle of focus for me. Two pills a day.

It's like being in control again, for the first time in a long time. And yes, my mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton. And yes, it makes it so I can't feel hungry – and I'm a little freaked that I'm not eating enough. And yes, it makes it really hard to sleep – especially since I can get so carried away on the projects I focus on.

And it is so, so worth it.

I'm reminded of a poem about "weighing the dog." The poet uses the metaphor of weighing the dog by first holding the dog and getting a weight and then weighing yourself. The difference between the two shows the true weight of the creature. For the poet, it was about love. For me, I'm finally seeing what I am without a particular beast latched to me, as it has been over the last many years.

When I see how much I can do, how much better I feel, how much more fun I have, how much more confident I am, how much more peace there is, all because of this little pill, it makes me realize how much my scattered mind – my inability to focus, my anxiety from the same – has fractured my life.

I wonder if I was an evolutionary fluke, a poor adaptation that doesn't work in the modern world. I wonder if the over-stimulation of TV, the multi-tasking computer projects, and the exposure to regular commercial breaks at a young age might have broken me. I wonder if my anachronistic soul simply wasn't meant for this century.

And while this thought, this idea of being broken, has long haunted me, right now I feel okay. Because I can just look at what's in front of me, focus in, and push on.

Re-Committing to Me

2011-09-08T09:31:00.003-06:00

In July of last year, I "put my weight on hold." Then, at the beginning of this year, I decided that I would pay off my consumer debt – even if that meant resorting to binge eating as a way of coping with work stress. The net result is that I went from approximately 185 pounds in July '10 to 235 pounds today.

Was it worth it? I don't know, but in either case, I'm done now. The problem is I've replaced all my good habits with terrible ones. I've been binge eating, smoking a pack a month, hopping up on Lortab, cheating on my veganism with junk food, and otherwise terrorizing my body's health.

I keep thinking, "one more binge." That there's just one more project I should get through, one more week or month before work stress is done. But the reality is that the stress keeps coming – just from different sources.

So today, September 8th, as of 9:12am Mountain Time, I'm re-committing to me. I want this year – the twelve month period from now to September 8th, 9:12am MT, 2012 – to be about finding that healthy place mentally, emotionally, and physically.

There will be a great many steps along the way. Here are a few:

Continue attending my fitness courses. I have four of them, meaning a two hour workout four times a week. I also walk to and from classes, a total of a 30+ minute walk, each day.
Re-committing to veganism. I can't feel good ethically about eggs and my body hates dairy.
Cutting out processed foods. Oreos, packaged brownies, and anything else that's been designed for maximum shelf-life is out.
Experimenting with gluten-free. Until October 8th, I'll be going on a gluten-free diet. There's some evidence that gluten is tied to poor muscle recovery, depression, and fatigue. Seems worth a go.
Hitting a weekly goal. I want to lose two pounds each week. I know that's a lot, but I need the momentum to stay motivated. Here's a chart I made with my goals.
Enroll for fitness courses in each of my upcoming semesters. I don't want this to die out after this semester is over. Classes help keep me motivated and organized.
Improving stress management. Some of this will be removing stress sources from my life. Some of this will be me learning new coping methods. A lot will be exploration.

I'm looking for a lifestyle change here. I hate hating myself. I'm done with misery and self-loathing. Enough with the tragedy. My life's story deserves a better genre.