Overdue notes

As has been noted elsewhere, my good friend Pia Savage is now a writer for Psychology Today. Her first piece is here, and it comes with my recommendation. Ms. Savage is welcome to test how much money one must add to that to pay for a cup of coffee.

What's remarkable about Pia's case is that despite having been raised in a family with the means to pay for mental health issues, it was only very recently that she had a diagnosis to go with her problems. A sign of the times, sure, but while medical world has made leaps and bounds in understanding mental health, how have the rest of us been doing? 

This is the point in the post where I make an uncomfortable logical step between someone I love and respect and a deranged madman. Please mind the handrails.

Four years ago I had this to say about the response by some to the classification of  Virginia Tech shooter Seung-Hui Cho as a victim. Or even, more mildly, as someone who fell through the cracks. These days I don't listen to talk radio even by accident, so I don't know how similar remarks about Jared Loughner have been taken, but I've gotten the general sense that the loudmouth morons haven't been pushing back on the mental illness angle this time around, save with the facile supposition that mental illness is in and of itself an explanation for violence. It pretty evidently isn't.

Clearly we need to do better by our more vulnerable citizens, including the mentally infirm, but unless we're aggressive in dismantling outdated notions and misconceptions regarding mental health, those efforts are in danger of taking the shape of "how can we protect ourselves from the mentally ill" rather than "how can we, as a nation, become more mentally healthy?"

The political climate that many-- myself included--  have claimed made the Tuscon shooting more likely may have a silver lining. The pushback against any sense of responsibility amongst political figures for the potential impact of their political rhetoric has satisfied the Right's need for knee-jerk bloodlust, and in an attempt to cover their own asses, have admitted that we have a mental health problem in this country.

That's a first step.  Pia is now helping us out with the second: understanding that the nature of that problem doesn't solely extend to the lack of support structure for the mentally ill. Our society as a whole needs to change its attitude, and stop treating mental health as the concern for "other" people.

Bravo, Pia..

For tonight:

There have been many guides circulating on the Interwebs suggesting State of the Union drinking game rules.  My construction is rather simple:  Drink once on every fifth applause line,  twice on every use of rhetorical balancers (eg "keep employment high and taxes low"), twice on every metaphorical use of the word "call," and drink thrice if anyone heckles. Rules can be added mid-speech provided that a consensus exists. Each player has ten exemptions, and the last person to run out of them (or run out of coordination or consciousness) wins.

For this speech in particular, drain your cup when Obama says the word "Sputnik"

A note here: When I say "drink," I don't mean, "take a shot." There were over a hundred applause lines last SotU, and I'm inclined to believe that this one will have more. Keep that in mind when altering this framework for your own purposes, and when deciding what it is you're going to fill your cup with.

Also, I hope the Disqus comment boards work for everyone.  It scored over other options, including the default blogger, in that it integrated well with my template, it allows for non-Google registered commenters, and that it didn't charge me to set it up.

Enjoy

Maybe this one will take

The total lack of new material in this space over the past month-- and the relative lack of it for quite some time now-- would lead one to believe that I've been too busy. Ask anybody who knows me in real life, and quite a few who don't, and after the laughter died down, they'd tell you that that wasn't the case. Five applicants for every job in this country, my lack of a college degree, the perplexing nature of some of my previous employment, and some rather specific frustrations (some fucking employers out there actually won't hire you if you're unemployed. This among other things leads me to believe that among jobs legislation moving forward-- I'll let you add the laugh track for that phrase-- an overhaul of employment law in this country should be considered) have seen to that.

So what's the deal?

It's not that I've moved on. I would like to be writing here every day. But my self-censor has been in overdrive lately, for a number of reasons. Most specifically, because I'm no longer sure what to share. Everything in my life that isn't boring has aspects to it that make me think twice before writing about it. Some of it has to do with things that I don't want to appear in a space where my family can see it. Some of it has to do with whether or not I'm assured that the other people involved would necessarily be ok with it being out there. Often I'm not sure it's worth the effort.

Anybody who's read this blog before knows that I'm a political junkie. I haven't stopped reading the news (Ezra Kein's Wonkbook is an invaluable resource if you're interested in the nuts and bolts of government and the economy). I haven't stopped caring. I've just stopped having anything interesting to say. The discussion is no longer about what we can do to solve the economic crisis. We know, with dollar-for-dollar specificity, what legislative action can lead to private-sector growth in this country. The question has become, "What can we do that will clear the legislative hurdle that almost killed the Civil Rights Act of 1964." For the Democrats it has become, "what can we do that won't play into the Tea Party narrative that we've rendered ourselves incapable of countering head-on through our own unprincipled timidity." Occaisionally there's something worth talking about, but it's hard for me to summon the attention span to do so without winding up in the same old trap, rhetorically banging my head against the same wall, in the same spot, changing nothing but the quality of the finish and the bone density in my skull. Not that anything thoughtful I have to say would be any more consequential, but that's different.

...I'm pretty sure that's different.

There are other things I like to write about too-- things that I don't necessarily think are important, but that they're cool but every time I sit down, all I hear in my head is myself not saying anything about the previous two, because they're important.

In short, the United States is fucked for the foreseeable future, that fact and my lack of employment (and compensation that doesn't come from medical research) are the only reasons why my life isn't unblemishedly awesome right now, and I either have a complicated subconscious or I have artful ways of expressing/rationalizing my own laziness. Or both.

In any case, I'm done with this sitting on my hands bullshit. Ego notwithstanding, I'm capable of writing things that are worth reading on a regular basis. There isn't a good reason why I'm not.

Just bad reasons and weird reasons.

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Somerville, Massachusetts is a pretty freaking great town. Cheap rent, easy access to Boston and Cambridge, and some excellent spots all of its own. Ball Square, to give one example, is home to the Great Breakfast War. The Ball Square Cafe and Sound Bites have between the two of them won accolades from just about every local restaurant critic, each drawing lines that extend down the block every morning. There has been a high-profile defection. There has been a fistfight that resulted in a court case. There have been some fucking delicious omelettes.

Three of the four people I spend the most of my time around-- including my girlfriend-- recently moved within walking distance, and I've been their muscle for the past few days as the new apartment has taken shape. The fourth is a short walk away.

Life, generally, is good. There are just some important details that need ironing out.

A note: One of my best friends from the web is now back in business, as it were. Say hello to Anna and her (relatively) new blog. We are currently in a conspiratorial mode. Worlds shall be shattered and ladies shall be made to swoon. Or something. Apart from that vagueness, I have a few irons in a few fires of my own at the moment, and hopefully I'll be able to show something for them soon.

I'd say watch this space, but I've said it before. I'd say I mean it this time, but I'm pretty sure I've said that before too.