Money, money, money, money... MONEY!

So, if you blog, you know that you really don't think that anyone reads your blogs. You think you're just pontificating for the catharsis of your own soul. I've always thought it would be a little egotistical of me to think people read these.

And then, every so often, someone mentions that they are missing your posts... (you know who you are, and thank you). As a "writer," there is literally nothing more fulfilling that finding out people get enjoyment from reading your work.

I was talking to the boss at my temp job the other day. He knows I write, and he's an avid reader, so he's always asking me about it. We were talking about J.K. Rowling, and how she went from relative obscurity to the richest woman in Great Britain. Then he asked me a surprising question- one I had never been asked. He said, "are you motivated by money?" I thought for a second, and said, quite honestly, "no." I've never had money- my parents have never had money. Maybe if I used to have it and lost it, I would. But I've actually never seen any inherent value in money. Even when I worked in 401(k)s at Fidelity... I'd have a hard time understanding it. My boss eventually gave me a book that was quite literally the history of money. I still didn't get it. I will never be a saver. I will never be rich. I will always spend my money on nights out with my friends, and cute purses, and giving money to homeless people. I'm okay with that. I'm rich in life, if not in cold, hard cash.

What does motivate me, though, is someone saying, "I really like your blog." "I really like your writing." "Your note really meant a lot to me." I will never tire of telling people what I think about the world, and finding out what they think too. And if someone should want to hear my musings on life (still a miracle to me)- it's all the motivation I need.

Blogging as Social Protest

While watching The Colbert Report, I couldn’t help but laugh- I know, that’s kind of the point. But in the spot regarding the taser attack on a Florida college student, Colbert pointed out that students responded in the only way they know- watching and doing nothing. Colbert joked that they were probably taping it for a YouTube video. He acknowledged that the main mode of expression for Generation X, Y, and Z is blogging.

The next night, sure enough, Colbert showed a blog that responded to Colbert’s story. The student (not realizing the irony) said what Colbert didn’t realize was that the police had told them to stay back. (Colbert noted that you should never rebel against an authority figure by not doing what they say).

Yes- I do realize the irony in blogging about blogging about The Colbert Report’s story about the Florida student. I could digress and discuss the fact that John Kerry probably couldn’t protect America from an attack if he can’t protect some 22-year-old kid in the same room as him.

But my topic tonight is more along the lines of the pros and cons of blogging as social protest or mode of expression. On one hand, it’s a great start for writers (don’t I know that). Sometimes, maybe even often, you get more accurate reporting from bloggers than from the media, who have more agendas than bloggers do. Bloggers have nothing to lose- and therefore, can take chances that regular media just can’t take.

The Internet has been the defining invention of the generation. It’s hard to imagine a new media that can surpass it. It has increased globalization at a dizzying rate. It’s allowed access that no one could have dreamed- but at the same time, it restrains. In the developed countries of the world, we often forget that a great many citizens of the world do not have telephones, much less computers with Internet access. (By the way, they also don’t have clean drinking water, houses, or enough food). As technology increases, the economic divide follows suit. In America, we talk about the American Dream, but we neglect the fact that in this increasingly global society, it should be a human dream. When the American Dream is a vacation house, and people across the world are living in squalor, the search shouldn’t be for a great investment, but human compassion.

Another digression? I don’t think so. Because that apathy has extended to within American borders. The people who sat idly by while a young man was tased (an act that can kill) for the mere act of asking obnoxious (but not necessarily useless) questions of a guy who ran for President a while ago showed no emotion. Colbert’s infamous “guy in the orange shirt” didn’t even take his chin off his hand. Fear and apathy run rampant and allow the dangerous abuse of power as evidenced in this event.

Blogging may be the last bastion of free speech in this country. As guarded and remote as it is, it may soon be the last place you can make your voice heard without fear of electrical shock.

The Pursewatcher

There are some unintended consequences to be the Fat Girl in the group. I'm not huge, but given that most of my friends (especially the going-out ones) are skinny as all get-out, I'm the default Fat Girl.

Sure, there's the typical, "you better be funny if you're the Fat Girl." But there are some lesser known identities. Let's discuss them.

"Unintended Wingwoman": Whether I like it or not, I'm the wingwoman. When the guy has the choice between the cute Fat Girl and the cute Skinny Girl, it's a no-brainer. So no matter how many guys I chat up, it's just an opening for them to hit on my friend, whether she is interested or not. I don't fault Skinny Girl in this- she is usually completely unwitting to this situation. But it's disappointing to put all that work in, and watch him do his best to shove his tongue down her throat on the dance floor.

"Friend of the Crazies": Something about the fact that I might at some point be standing off the dance floor- and I'm not as intimidating as cute Skinny Girl- means I attract crazies of all sorts. Crazy drunk women, creepy guys who want advice on picking up women (then I'm GLAD they aren't interested in me), bored bouncers who want to tell me their life aspirations outside the bar... I get them all. Being fat usually makes you unapproachable. But the other unapproachables find comfort in you- they reach out because you're on their side. Ew. No, I'm not.

"The Pursewatcher": A personal favorite of mine. Towards the end of the night, when I'm tired of getting shot down and ignored by people with whom I might be interested and worn out from the Crazies, I grab a table and just observe the madness. Skinny Girls who can't dance being pursued by drunk men who want nothing more than a handful of body, etc. It seems within ten minutes of me sitting at a table (after a few "hey, it's okay to smile" comments from creepy men who seem to think it's their job to dictate my facial expression), I become the Watcher of Purses. While the Skinny Girls dance, SOMEONE has to watch their purses, shoes, drinks, and so on. And that person becomes me. Now I'm stuck because I don't want their stuff stolen. Thanks, Skinny Girls. Nothing could make my night more pathetic than babysitting inanimate objects while you get slobbered on by the guy I winged your way.

I used to be cute Skinny Girl. A bad medication that is necessary for my survival made me cute Fat Girl. I've resigned myself to my role in life. The Pursewatcher.

An astounding event in history

Am I the only woman who has a weird, fractured relationship with her father?

My father and I just talked on the phone for a record 4 minutes, 1 second. He called to ask me where my mother was (I actually knew, despite living an hour away). He accidentally got roped into having a conversation with me that lasted longer than most of our interactions.

I was that dorky kid who always WANTED to hang out with my parents- I thought they were cool. When my dad told stories about helping out my godfather (an FBI agent) with an undercover narcotics sting... I mean, really! Who doesn't want to hang out with studs like my mom and dad?

Over the years, though, my dad and I have grown apart. I don't know if it's fairly common for single women in their late 20s, early 30s to be distanced from their dads. While my mom and I can go on for hours about baseball, relationships, HGTV, politics, etc... my dad sits in the Dad Chair, reads his book, and falls asleep with his hand on the remote, resulting in a whirlwind of channels that inevitably ends in a shopping channel.

I love my dad, and I am just like him. I have the same wide feet. I hold grudges. I shop too much. I take pictures of food I've prepared if it looks nice. And he's 71- not the youngest bird in the flock. But until I get this figured out, I'll enjoy the four minutes of side-splitting laughter I get when the opportunity arises, and a few chuckles as I reminisce.

Joblessness...

...really gets old after a while. I'm not sure what to do... People ask me what kind of job I'm looking for- and I honestly don't know. I suppose this is the time in my life where I should be able to start figuring that out. But it's not coming to me. I visited OU... I'm not sure if that's the place for me either. I want to stay in Cincinnati- but I'm not exactly sure if I can afford to stay here.

My father thinks I should randomly go through the yellow pages and pick someone and ask them to give me a job. You don't choose drywallers that way, so I'm not sure if that's the way to get a job either.

My mother thinks I should take whatever job I can get until I find that "dream job." I see my options there as thus- either I go into a job in bad faith, knowing I'm going to leave, OR I end up in the sucky job for the rest of my life.

I had so many job offers when I graduated from my BA... I'm starting to think that getting my master's was a huge mistake. But it's too late now... just have to pick up the pieces and see what I can do from here.

Sorry for the bemoaning- I know the post on my other blog is kind of saying the opposite. But it's getting to the point where I'm so scared about not finding anything, it's all I can think about.

Where have all the singletons gone?

In Cincinnati, we often talk about "brain drain," the act of creative people leaving Cincinnati. But what about "Date Drain?" People are also leaving Cincinnati because dating in Cincinnati is, well, draining. Everyone knows everyone. Everyone's dated everyone. You meet someone and realize that they are the cousin of your last boyfriend. It's damn near incestual.

I'm still a new kid in Cincinnati- I've only been here about 13 years. Which, by Cincinnati standards, is a nanosecond. The funny thing is, as much as people complain about the small-town nature, they are reluctant to let it go. Cincinnati is like a microcosm of the immigration debate. Someone moves to Cincinnati, and it's like they immigrated from Micronesia. How are you supposed to relate- you don't even know their high school! And how are you supposed to meet them at the Friday night game. Does anyone realize that there are PROFESSIONAL sports teams in this city?

I honestly don't know how to fix this. I get involved in every activity I can, but I only meet people who are already dating their- of course! high school sweetheart. I talk to everyone I meet- I even went on a date with a guy I met at the grocery (of course, he was from London, so I guess it doesn't count). I do know this. Cincinnati will get smaller and smaller (literally) as long as people are in the hometown pride mindset. And Chicago, Columbus, Indy, and the like will get bigger as they embrace the newcomers.

Sooner or later, I'll decide it's time to settle down. I'll probably be in Chicago.

Songs by Staind

It's been a while...

I haven't written in a while. Although writing is cathartic for me, it's also exhausting. And life has been exhausting enough lately.

So you might remember a past post where I talked about going back to school- not for a PhD, but for a degree in Public Relations. Well, life has taken a sharp right turn again... I say right turn, because hopefully I'm headed in the correct direction.

Fall of 2008, I will hopefully be starting my doctorate in communication at Ohio University. Yes, moving to Athens, going to school full-time, and hopefully working towards finally becoming a professor and writer. Whew.

But now it's time for the pontificating that you all enjoy...

This morning I woke up and flipped on the TV and of course, it was HGTV. And it was a special on the "Ultimate Wedding Guide." And the "experts" were saying things like, "you want your guests to walk away thinking that wow, you thought of everything" and "favors should be either edible or useful" and "your dress sets the tone for the entire wedding."

Although my stomach was turning at this kind of stuff, you kind of wonder why there is such a fuss made about weddings and marriage. Marriage is no guarantee that you'll stay together- we are at a point now where the divorce rate is 50%! I know of so many couples that were together for years and years and then got married and divorced within 2 years.

It's not like I'm against marriage. I might get married myself some day... but I wonder if the emphasis that society places on the importance of a wedding and getting married by a certain age or at a certain point in your relationship puts undue pressure on couples- and that results in the sky-high divorce rate. I once asked my mother when she knew she and my father would get married (they dated for seven years before marrying). She said, "after about 5 years." Hardly that 2-year timeline that so many couples seem to have. And some people get married after 6 months and never look back.

I always hesitate to give advice on relationships, despite my background in the study of the same. Because every relationship is so different and so unique. We wonder why Brad and Angelina don't get married and then ridicule Britney for marrying everyone who seems to cross her path. Maybe we should all take a step back and let people do what they want with their relationships. Get married, don't, live together, don't, have babies first, don't... whatever floats your boat. I could go into the Christian Right's effect on this with their whole "family values" campaign, but I don't think this has to be a political discussion. I think it's more about appreciating the uniqueness of the individual, and the resulting uniqueness of relationships.

Ok, done for now... the next blog might be about my radical decision to admit- I don't really like kids all that much. I mean, they're fine and all, I just don't want to spend all sorts of time with ones I'm not related to. But that's for another day.

I'm sure you've missed me- I'll try to get back on here soon.

Namaste

On friendship

I once read a little piece on friendship that was quoted in a Dear Abby column. It was comparing friendship to marriage and to the relationship between a parent and child, and even to a business partnership.

It made the excellent point that friendship is that one relationship- that one bond, that one union- that we enter into without any legal proceedings. Nothing binds us to our friends but our fondness for each other. It is a relationship that we look to for security, but has none. Anyone can extinguish a friendship at any time for any reason, with no repercussions.

In a business partnership, there may not be fondness. There may not be trust. There may not be cordiality. But those are the bases of a friendship.

In a relationship between parent and child, there is an unequal power balance. The parent has authority, makes the decisions (ideally), and wields the control. A friendship is based on the nature of equality and the even sharing of power and decision-making between friends.

And marriage. You can only marry one person. Can you imagine the same limitation on friendships? There is always the question- would you rather have one close friend or 5 more distant ones. Can you even think to decide between the two? So many people respond- I would like 5 close friends, please and thank you. Me too.

My best friend lives 2000 miles away. It's probably one of the most difficult things I have had to deal with in a long time. God has been kind enough to send her here when I need her most (a breakup, for instance). But when you think about the insecurity of friendship, you know that a long-distance romance is one thing, but a long-distance friendship is harder than you can imagine.

A nasty case of MySpace

MySpace has become like a virus… infecting everyone, and it’s spread through human-to-human contact. Friends knowingly transmit the disease to friends. “Get a MySpace. We can keep in touch.” I am not innocent in this epidemic.

Generation X, Y, and Z have become overwhelmed with MySpace hysteria. Many new bands do not bother creating web sites anymore, because of the ease of creating a MySpace site, and its access to their target demographic. Actors, comedians, and even political candidates have MySpace pages. It’s the ultimate self-promotion, and it’s so easy! No need to learn HTML anymore. Cut and paste from a few easy-to-use web sites, and you can have a custom-looking site in minutes.

But why? Why this proliferation of MySpace pages? For every moment that you refresh a page, more and more people have joined. Some people do it to meet people, especially romantic prospects. Others use it to promote their businesses or parties. Still others have social causes to support. And then there are some who do it out of sheer vanity. “Here I am! On the Internet! I’ll never be famous, but people all over the world can see blurry self-portraits taken with my cell phone!”

MySpace has become a calculated chaos designed to impress the masses. The home page of the site is a conglomeration of videos, advertising, “new members,” and promotions. It is almost unrecognizable as the networking web site it was originally intended to be. It’s only a matter of time before the commercialization of MySpace follows the nature of all things- from radio to television to magazines.

The motivations are varied. But result is the same. Self-promotion feeding self-absorption in an attempt to convey not the identity that one has, but the identity one wishes to have. Because in the end, the MySpace page is not for oneself, but for all to see. It’s impossible to forget that the world is watching. One is limited by the thing that seems most liberating- space.

How to meet a man...

I have no idea. I have over a decade of dating experience, and I still don’t know how to meet men. I can tell you, however, what does NOT work:

The grocery store does not work. I actually dated a guy who I met at a grocery (the “singles” grocery, of course). There are a couple problems with this approach. First, you better not be buying anything embarrassing. Steal the pregnancy test if you must, but don’t leave it right there next to the Chex cereal. Second, I have found that the natural first date from a grocery store meeting is a homemade dinner. “Hey, you’re buying food! I like food!” This is not a good idea. There is nothing more awkward than being in your apartment with a stranger with nothing to distract you but some steak and salad. (Disclaimer: It’s not safe, either).

Museums, galleries, plays, and other cultural pursuits do not work. Again, there are a few problems with this idea. You think to yourself, I’m going to meet some urbane, sophisticated, mature man this way. No, you’re not. You are going to meet men with girlfriends or wives. You are going to meet gay men, or men who aren’t quite sure. You are going to meet men who spend more money on their shoes and more time on their hair than you do, and who wants to give up that much closet and bathroom space? It seems smart, but don’t bother.

Work- do I even need to say anything here? Best-case scenario, you get married and you lose your job. Worst-case scenario, you break up and lose your job. In between, you break up, and you keep your job and watch him date another co-worker. Does this even sound like fun?

If the men you meet at museums are a little too metrosexual, you’re thinking- fine, I’ll go to a sporting event! I will meet a man who is down-to-earth. He wears a baseball cap. He drinks Budweiser. He is passionate, you can tell by the way the veins in his neck pop out when something happens on the field. I hate to be the one to crush your dreams, but men at sporting events are not there to meet women. You are only going to annoy them by hitting on them. Have you tried to talk to your boyfriend when he is watching a game on TV and he ignores you? How do you think he feels when he’s watching it in real life? The only woman he is interested in at a sporting event is a cheerleader on the big screen.

If you think I’m even going to touch on bars and nightclubs or internet dating, you are thinking far too little of me.

At this point, you are thinking, “for pete’s sake… where DO I meet a decent man?” Re-read the first line. I have no idea. However, I have a suggestion. The only venue I have found no serious problems with is friends’ parties. As long as you get a go-ahead that someone is single, they obviously have some clearance from people you know as to not being crazy. They are not distracted by a live sporting event, and you don’t have to make them dinner. It’s the best I can offer. Then again, I’m single.

A dreamer deferred

As a girl growing up in Detroit in the early 1980s, my dream job seemed easily attainable. I wanted to be a major league baseball manager. I knew a lot about baseball, I liked bossing people around; it seemed natural.

As I got older, I realized how unrealistic that dream was. I set my sights on a new career. I was going to be a fashion designer. My own outfits had always garnered a lot of attention (not necessarily complimentary attention, but attention all the same). It was time to put my artistic skills to work for the greater good of fashionable society.

The next turning point came when my older sister moved in with us while she finished law school. Something about the way she talked about it made it seem very glamorous (at least to a 12-year-old). And another career path was put into place.

After 10 years of chasing the dream of being an attorney (John Grisham should have to pay for my first three years of college- talk about glamorizing law), I realized something that until then seemed inconsequential. I hated law.

After completing bachelor’s and master’s degrees in communication, I taught for a while. But I’m still at a loss as to what I want to be when I grow up. The thing is, the one thing I have always loved to do is write. However, the going rate for writers is $0.00, or something slightly lower, counting postage.

Now I’m a secretary. It pains me a little to type that- to see the words come up on the screen and know that it is true. I can always tell myself it is a temporary situation. But I have held meaningless jobs for many years now. For someone with such high hopes as a child, I feel like the real world has come crashing down upon me with medical bills and car payments and student loans. All the practicalities of life make it impossible to quit the job where my most noteworthy praise is my ability to decipher dictation.

I am left with just a glimmer of hope that around the bend is the career I didn’t know I wanted.

The dreamer is deferred, but not destroyed.

An old blog from myspace

Random observations (as inspired by Mitch)

Everything, with the exception of ice cream, tastes better with ranch dressing.

Being poor is okay. Being cheap is not.

I will never be satisfied with any of my profile pictures.

I buy CDs because I always like the B-side songs better.

It's perfectly fine to fake like you know shit.

I like to dance, even if there is no one else dancing. And no dance floor. And no music.

Men aren't all dicks. They are just different from women. Women aren't all crazy. They are just different from men. As soon as we all grasp this concept, we will be a lot better off.

Adam Dunn didn't just start sucking as a fielder. He just looked better compared to Wily Mo Pena than he does compared to Austin Kearns.

Catcher is the most underrated position in baseball.

If you keep going to the same places, talking to the same people, and doing the same thing, don't bitch that your life sucks.

If your profile name is something other than your name, it better be fucking clever.

There is an inverse proportion between attractiveness and fashion. The uglier you are, the better you have to dress. It's unfair, but so is a lot of stuff.

I have a couple dream jobs. One is baseball manager. The other is guerilla fashion advisor. I'd like to just go grab people and take them shopping. I'm just trying to make the world a better place.

Men call at 2am because they are horny and haven't met anyone at the bar willing to have sex with them. Women call at 2am not because they want to have sex, but because they want men to be thinking about having sex with them. For some reason, women are obsessed with having men be in love with them regardless of whether they like the guy or not. I'm a chick and I don't get it, so don't ask me to explain further.

Nice, shy guys think that they will never find nice women who don't play games. What they don't realize is that women play games with them because nice, shy guys scare easier than a chipmunks.

The rain will always blow in the direction of coming in my window.

There is an inverse proportion to the importance of your blog to the number of people who will respond to it- in other words, the more mundane, the more people respond.

Why can't we all just cuss and people get over it?

Pretty people have it easier. Bummer.

You know what would improve golf? Brawls.

If I was a basketball player, I would foul out of every game. And if I was a baseball player, I'd cleat every guy I ran into.

That's enough for now.

School daze

May 7... the day of reckoning... so to speak. I'm going back to school.

Not for a PhD... I decided... I don't really want a PhD, because I don't think I really want to teach anymore. I'll never teach the way they want me to. I don't believe in grades... I think they are useless and arbitrary. I just don't think I have the personality to maintain that power distance between me and my students. Because of what I talked about in the last post- the value in each person... They can teach me just like I can teach them. I have a hard time with education in that sense.

So why am I going back? Well, a lot of people do value the degree... especially employers. So, in order to someday get a job I love and feel valued at, I need to go back to school and get a degree in something that will be respected. I still have things to learn, I don't doubt that. I'm getting a second bachelor's... this time in Public Relations... which has a little overlap with Communication, but not much, surprisingly.

My first class will be newswriting... I've always fancied myself a bit of a writer, so it will be interesting to get graded on it for the first time in four years... and non-academic/scholarly writing at that. I'd much rather write for "the masses" than academia... I guess that's why I'm doing this.

Education is a funny thing. In high school, they told us that college would be so hard, and they would talk really fast, and wouldn't stop and answer questions or repeat themselves. And it wasn't true at all. And in college, they told us that they were developing us for a career in the "real world." What a crock that was. If that were the case, my bachelor's and master's would have me doing something a little more pertinent than being a secretary. What really counts, I think, is life experience... what you learn in the classroom has value, I'm sure... it provides a foundation for what you will experience and gives you a basis from which to analyze that information. But to think that college prepares you for work... not true.

So despite all that, I'm going back... mainly to make contacts, get some credibility, and get my foot in the door. I hope it works... otherwise I'm going to be wasting some major cash.

Superiority Complex

Last night I was at a meeting for the MidPoint Music Festival... it never ceases to amaze me that there are still so many people who are excited about Cincinnati and making it a destination, a hip place, and regional hot spot. It's heartening that there are some people who care deeply about the city.

However, I notice something about some of these folks (SOME being the operative word, and this is not necessarily about anyone at the meeting last night). Many of these folks have a somewhat "holier-than-thou" attitude... I guess stemming from the idea that they are out there keeping busy, making Cincinnati a better place... at the same time not realizing they are not making society a better place by showing common courtesy, by feeling they are in a place to judge others.

Let me illustrate. There is someone I know through one of my activities. Let's call this person Chris. Chris is highly intelligent and very intuitive. Chris and I have had one fairly deep conversation where we shared a great deal about our respective lives. I thought this would be the beginning of a unique friendship with a dynamic person.

Chris is the sort of person who believes there are rights, and there are wrongs. There are shoulds and should nots. Chris wants people to behave in a way that Chris finds appropriate. When someone breaks that norm, Chris has no problem sharing views on why that behavior is unacceptable, regardless of whether the person, or society, or God, or whomever, thinks it is.

I have a pretty intense personality... It took me a long time to like and value the person I am. I am finding that some of the people who do all these activities and participate in these organizations might value me, but they don't value those who DON'T devote every free moment to volunteer work. And Chris only values the people with whom Chris agrees.

The Dalai Lama has taught the Buddhist principle that all beings are equal and valuable. That you should treat everyone they same- whether you like them, are neutral, or dislike them. I try very hard to realize the value in each person. I think I do a decent job of it. When I see the value in myself, and the value in others, I'm filled with even more respect and concern for myself and others. It gives me a lot of peace of mind, that I am not sure some of these people have.

I will most likely be halting or taking a break from my friendship with Chris. It's become rather destructive to me, and I am not willing to put up with that. It's sad, because I think Chris and I would have had a marvelous friendship.

My Jerry Springer "final thought"- there is value in all things... including yourself. Demand that others respect that value, and make sure you give that value to others.

Namaste.

A new attempt at blogging

I sometimes do a post on myspace... but nothing serious... we're not committed to each other.

I guess I'm doing this so I can write. Someday it would be rad to make money at writing... so I need the practice. I guess I'll get more in when I get back in school... but this will have to do in the meantime.

The thing is, I don't know what to write about. Me? Dear Lord, we have enough me floating around out there. I'm an open book... except for that private MySpace profile...

I could do social commentary... I've done that in the past. But I have become more laissez-faire in my old age, and the fight is not as strong as it once was... the fire in my heart is still smoldering, but it's more of a oxygenated ash then an out-of-control blaze.

Then there are my little observations on life... Maybe that's where I'll go with this... as illustrated through the World of Dale. My friends and I always say "it could only happen to Dale" and sometimes that's true. So maybe a combination of some observations, some stories, and a sprinkling of social commentary just to keep the ashes alive.

I'll end this first, brief post by thanking a good soul who has moved on. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. has passed away... disheartening. What a brilliant, mad genius. Breakfast of Champions is one of my favorite books... because it is one of the few books that can truly capture the madness of the mind. Whenever I read a book (usually written by the mentally ill) that can really illustrate the unbearable suffering and joy of insanity, I feel a kindred spirit is in my midst. KV was one of those writers... the reason that I keep writing. Sylvia Plath and JD Salinger are another two. They bring the light and the darkness that is madness to the forefront of human consciousness, and whenever people get out of their comfort zones... I feel a little more comfortable.

Namaste.