Only white people... [the time I got punched for my skin color]

Image via Wikipedia

You already know how I feel about racists, but the recent Twitter trending topic #OnlyWhitePeople has inspired me to blog once more on the issue and share with you a personal story.

Apparently some believe that white people cannot experience racism first hand, they can only be the perpetrators.

I don't believe that, in fact I think that statement is a load of hogwash. Anyone can be ignorant or idiotic, it doesn't matter what color your skin is. I've been discriminated against because of my skin color more than enough times in my life to tell you that yes, you can be racist towards a white person, and I'm not someone who gets easily offended over silly things.

A lot of the jokes people were cracking about crackers on Twitter were actually pretty funny, and I really have no problem with people saying that Caucasians smell like wet dogs and put leashes on their kids. That ish is funny, mostly because there's some truth in it (I've smelled many a white person wearing "eau de moist pooch").

It's fun to joke about stereotypes and point out the differences among cultures, but it's another thing to hate someone because they're different from you. One tweet that I kept seeing in this trending topic was "#OnlyWhitePeople can be racist." Huh?

Please understand where I'm coming from: I'm not trying to make a huge issue out of this or say that this problem is any greater than any other kind of racism, because it's not. I completely understand, and disagree with, how inherently flawed our institutions are and how racism plays a huge role in the disproportionate numbers of African-Americans and Latinos in prison populations and in poverty.

The system needs a major overhaul in changes and these and other issues clearly deserve a serious discussion. I'm totally on board because I believe that the power in this country should not solely belong to rich white men. It's not right, and it's the reason why women and minorities have so much stacked against them.

My only point in writing this blog post is that anyone can be a racist idiot.

It irks me that some believe that just because I'm white I cannot be the victim of racism, or that if I am victimized in that way it is somehow justifiable. I was physically assaulted in the past because of my skin color, and it was horrible. Though I never reported it, I still remember the incident as if it happened yesterday, and it definitely wasn't justified-- even if I do happen to be pale.

I was riding the elevated train in Philly one summer, going from Center City to the Northeast, with my friend Star, who happens to be a six foot two inch African-American woman. I was sitting on the aisle side of the bench next to Star on a packed train and incidentally I was the only white person in the train car.

Just as the train was getting ready to pull out of the station, at the stop just before Frankfort, a thirteen year old boy quickly punched me in the face and ran out between the closing doors. "White bitch." I could see him laughing and joking with his friends on the platform as the train rode away.

"Don't cry," Star said and held my hand as I attempted to push back my angry tears. I kept silent until we got to our destination, the next stop, mostly because I was in shock. I didn't understand why a stranger would want to hurt me just because of my skin color. The punch hurt, but the sting of that ignorance-fueled hatred hurt more.

"Why me?"

It was hard to process.

I've always been against racism and I've always been against privileges for only certain sections of society. I'm what you might call an egalitarian, though I try not to attach labels to myself. The idea of simply hating the ruling power is not constructive-- we need ideas, and we need unity.

Yeah, I'm not a fan of how things are going politically right now with the way banks and big businesses are being favored over the regular people, like myself and countless others, who depend on some social services because we cannot afford to pay for those services ourselves. But instead of simply hating and physically attacking those who lobby for big business and other evils, I'm going to do my homework and vote and protest and write about these things so that more people can know and protest with me.

Punching a random stranger may relieve some sort of stress, but that same random stranger may actually be on your side. Am I just rambling now? What do you think?

Tenderloin street art photography [photo walk]

Taking walks and taking photos are two of my most favorite hobbies, and I often like to combine them. A few weeks ago, I spotted some crazy street art clustered in one spot on an abandoned building in the Tenderloin district while walking home from Ben's office. I decided to stop and snap a few photos. Some of the pieces of street art I photographed are very beautiful, some are horrific, some are controversial and will surely get a discussion bubbling. Please enjoy, and if you have something to say please do not hesitate to leave a comment!



JFK sez: "Hipsters Beware!"



Who is this? The Virgin Mary? Joan of Arc? I don't know. What do you think?



Kool Kid Kreyola. Is this racist? Reminds me a bit of that scene from Ghost World where Enid brings in a piece of found art that depicts this country's racist history for a gallery showing. The gallery ends up removing the piece because so many people complained about it, even though Enid's point was to open up a discussion about racism and how people are afraid to talk about it.



Creepy faces with snakes and an owl.



Mmmm, ice cream. So cold, yet so delicious.



What do you think of my new logo? I designed myself using the applications offered through Photobucket. I'm thinking of making a banner for this blog to put in the header, but I'm not sure how to go about it and I don't really know what I want.

Now starring on closed-circuit television!

Image via Wikipedia

I'm down with CCTV (yeah you know me! pat yourself on the back if you knew the song I was referring to), but a lot of people are not. Their arguments fall along the lines of "big brother" from Orwell's 1984 and the general invasion of privacy. My response is that you're on a city street so how much privacy should you really be expecting? So long as you're not doing anything illegal, CCTV shouldn't even be a concern for the average citizen. They're there for a reason: your safety.

A few years ago there was a murder in Philadelphia, my hometown. There are homicides pretty much every day in Philly, so no wonder we call it "Killadelphia." It really is that dangerous. This particular murder was committed in Center City just after Patricia McDermott got off the bus, on her way to work. As she walked from the bus stop to her job, she was followed by a man who crept up on her and shot her in the head. Luckily for her family, detectives were able to piece together video tape from various surveillance cameras in the area and were able to determine who did it. Justice was served on Juan Covington, who later testified to committing two other murders unrelated to this case, with the help of the overwhelming physical evidence. As a result, District Attorney Lynn Abraham decided that putting cameras in strategic spots around the city wasn't such a bad idea.

Feel free to disagree with me on this one, but I really think CCTV is only in the best interest of the general public (sorry, thugs). Honestly, the government isn't perfect and there a lot of things we should be upset about (the inequity of lobbying, lack of accountability in politics, banks getting huge loans and paying no interest and normal people being denied small loans to help pay their bills, et cetera ad nauseam). Sometimes the government gets something right, let's give credit where credit is due. What do you think?

Realpolitik for Everyman, another awesome post by my dad

A while ago I posted an insightful article written by my dad on the subject of swear words. Today I present a political piece from my dad's blog, which might give you a little background on where I get some of my ideologies. Also, check out this photo I took while on the boat to Alcatraz. I'll post some more tomorrow, but I thought this one was kind of suited the mood.


Warning: Persons procuring or concealing escape of prisoners are subject to persecution and imprisonment.


Realpolitik for Everyman

It’s interesting to watch the current events unfolding in the Middle East and wonder who will emerge as the next leaders in these places. My money is on the strongmen, the guys with the black mustaches, riding on horseback with swords close by, not the men and women demonstrating in the street. They will become the next wave of political martyrs, prisoners, or puppets. The odds are stacked against them.

Who follows Muammmar Gaddaffi?

Who follows Hosni Mubarak?

Who indeed?

The revolution that occurred here in America, as we all do or should know, was mainly a transfer of power from the crown to the landowning elites. The men (and women, and enslaved Africans too) who carried guns and sometimes died for the leaders did not receive freedom, or even get the vote, until long afterward. So much for a revolution. Just a new boss. Hail to the Chief!

Real social and political revolutions, like the ones that happened in France, and Ireland, and Russia, unfortunately, are accompanied by lots of blood in the streets. Before, during, and after. Other societies, like China, or Spain, only change as a result of long and bloody civil wars, with usually the strongest side -- not the best side-- emerging victorious. Still others, like Germany, changed through back-stabbing, bullying, and subterfuge. Then came the blood. And way too much of it, too. Sometimes social and/or political revolution is not what people really want at all (See Russia, China, Germany, Franco's Spain, etc.).

There is a common thread running though all of these. And most of these changes were not for the good of the common people, either. Just another change of bosses.

In America, I think it’s better to be part of the system. Make money, use the system, use your head, get ahead, save. Buy a house. Hire an accountant, avoid some taxes. Play the game. Die in Florida.

You win!

People here game the system for their own benefit. Obviously. This is human nature. They do this by sending representatives to Congress who vote a particular way. That is the true American Way of Life.

The elites get by through valuable contacts, obtained at the best schools, the best universities, the best clubs, and in the boardrooms and bedrooms of power.

The trick in America is to make it here without a magic rolodex.

Most people don’t have the wherewithal to send agents to Congress on their behalf, so we settle for crumbs. Cost of Living raises. Tax refunds. MediCare. Social Security. MedicAid. Early Bird Specials. Most folks spend their entire lives trying to get ahead of the pack. To be their own man or woman. It is a land of individuality. But that’s just part of the game too. Divide and conquer.

Still, for all its evils it’s the best system in the world. Look around.

Well, maybe some European countries have cooler sunglasses and nicer shoes and tastier food, but they still play the same game we do. Hell. They invented it. Even their great health care systems are funded through extremely high taxes for working people. And they often do let poor old Grandma die too, by the way, when she hits a certain point. I know this from personal experience.

The society that the idealism of youth always seeks — one of universal egalitarian principles, will not likely occur here as long as this world remains a capitalistic one, or a manufacturing or industrial powerhouse. If it does ever occur it would only happen (heaven forfend!) after this country and the rest of the West has a financial crisis leading to total worldwide economic collapse, or an unthinkable military apocalypse that destroys all the major infrastructure and institutions, and just about everything else, too. Only then can a total change occur here. The people will only be allowed to rise up here when there is absolutely nothing left in the pot to rise up FOR.

No, it’s far better to be a part of the current system, voting for steady, progressive, incremental societal change, hell yes, but fighting and working for your family and yourself FIRST, last, and always.

Be About It!-- the collage!

Did you order your zine yet? Did you get it in the mail? Holla at your girl if you got yours and if you really like it maybe you'd like to get involved in a little art project I'm doing. I've already asked a few bloggers if they would put a good word out if they enjoyed Be About It, but I have something more fun in store. I am making a collage and I want YOU to take a photo of yourself holding the zine and send it to me. The lovely Rox sent me her photo a while ago and it's amazing, but I need more! Please send me yours. You know you want to Be About It!



Here are some friends holding up the latest issue of Be About It at the release party last week, including my dear friend Alexis (who is like a sister to me) who came all the way from Philly to visit me.

Eagles of Flower Metal - mandatory style update

Happy Humpday, my friends, I hope you are having a good week. As I type this it is actually Sunday evening and I will be watching Celebrity Apprentice later on. I'm writing this post preemptively because my dear friend Alexis is flying in tomorrow (Monday) and I don't suspect I'll have that much time to blog while she is in town. I have been known for my entertaining skills and being a good hostess (unlike that jerk Sonja on The Real Housewives of New York, did you see her pick a fight with Alex McCord and then kick her out of her party? How rude!), so I plan on showing her some fun things around the city and I'm sure we'll have a good time, weather pertaining. It's been a little chilly, though we have been getting some sun. Anyway, I love Alexis and I'm so excited to see her! This is her first time visiting me in San Francisco, and I haven't seen her since I went back to Philly a few summers ago. It's been ages, so this week will be a doozy, for sure!

On to the outfits. I got this t-shirt, depicting an American Eagle in floral print who perched on a guitar, and the leggings on sale on the Urban Outfitters website. I have an online shopping habit. I like to just look, but sometimes I buy. If it's on sale, can you blame me? Maybe a little bit.







I got this sweater at Thrift Town and the necklace is a gift from Ben, which he bought at a flea market in Africa. Pretty cool.





More thrift finds. The tunic is Top Shop and I got it for six dollars, and the cardigan is Elizabeth Millen (which I looked up and is some hoity toity expensive designer-- accidental score). Holla.





Last look. I gave myself a pedicure the other day while watching television. I did a better job than I expected, as I have terrible hand-eye coordination.

DREAMS IN PRINT! and I dream in black in white...

The DREAMS zines are finally printed! After a little delay and some misunderstandings, the latest issue of Be About It is here and I can now start mailing them out! I'm having a little party next weekend and if you're going to be in town, let me know because you should definitely stop by! I'll be signing copies all night (until it's my bedtime) so bring two dollars and two quarters and get yourself a brand spanking new zine to read! I'll also be signing and drawing little doodles in any zine that you buy online, so order one today (the PayPal button is below). I spent more than I thought I would for this issue (because it was so big compared to the first two issues), but I did it because I want to make sure everyone who wants a copy gets a copy. Please help me in supporting small press publications and let's keep literature alive!

Just click the button and you will get a zine! Only $2.50 (plus shipping) and you'll even get a signed copy with an original drawing! What more could you want?! Oh, you want to read a sample of the zine, just to make sure before you spend your hard-earned cash? I can respect that. Below the jump, get a taste of this time around's Be About It.




Here is the piece I wrote for the zine:

Dreams by Alexandra Naughton

I dream in black and white-- really dark and confusing, sometimes I can't see what is directly in front of me, a limited scope as if shot in vignettes. The dreams, though highly stylized like a Swedish avant garde film, are plotless and usually make very little sense. And they repeat themselves. I've had this same dream every night for going on months now. Here's how it typically plays out: I'm seeing through my own eyes and wandering. Sometimes it's an old house and I'm going from room to room with someone just behind me, following. Other times I'm in a large municipal building with long, empty, and slanting hallways. The building wobbles back and forth like an unsteady Jenga set, or it is spinning as if on a record player (like it was last night). Sometimes I'm driving a car and I'm on an important mission, though I never know what that mission is. In real life I don't know how to drive, but that doesn't stop me from dreaming about it. I'm driving and driving, fast, the car full of people and we’re racing down dark narrow and winding roads, then eventually it is day time and I am driving this car up the curved steel part of a bridge (you know, the part that holds the rest in suspension?) for some reason. It's like riding up and down the hills of a rollercoaster, but I can't enjoy it because I'm terrified and I have people in the backseat counting on me not to get them killed.  

Freud said our dreams hold the secrets that our subconscious is afraid to reveal when we're awake. Personally, I think that's a load of B.S. Science (via the kids show from the 90s, Beakman’s World) has taught me that our dreams are dependent on what is already on our minds, and you can control what you dream about-- by thinking about the things you want to see in your dreams before you go to sleep you can essentially design your dreams. Inception, anyone? This strategy works for me on occasion, but it seems that my sleeping self prefers to dwell in nightmares, which isn't all that odd considering what I read and watch for entertainment. A morbid curiosity can really affect your dreams. I suppose if I were the type of person who thought about unicorns and Lisa Frank stationary all the time my dreams might be more pleasant. Oh well. One night I went to sleep worrying about my cat, Sookie, who I left home alone while I was on vacation back in Philly. In the dream I arrived at my apartment after an arduous cross-country journey only to realize that my cat was missing. Talk about a frantic dream. But it was rooted in reality and my own worries. I'm sure Freud would attribute my lost pussy cat to something sexual, but that would be utterly incorrect. The night before the kitty-cat dream I went to sleep staring at a poster of Lil Wayne on my sister's bedroom wall. I dreamt that I was kissing him. I'll bet if I had drifted off to sleep staring at a poster of Kate Moss I most likely would have been graced by the model's presence in one way or another (joint fashion shoot? cat fight?). The possibilities with dreams are endless.

Still not convinced? Check out this little video I made (my first iMovie) of me flipping through the zine, all forty-nine pages! I told you this is our largest issue yet!



This video is dedicated to Stuff No One Told Me, who also made a zine and posted a video on his blog of himself going through the pages. Let me tell you that I had been thinking about making a video of myself thumbing through my new issue before I saw his video, but alas he beat me to it :) Alex Noriega, if you're reading this, I still totally want to do a trade if you're willing!

Screamin like a banshee-- my anger management post

Image via Wikipedia

So I was lucky enough to have two guest posts by two lovely ladies last week (here and here) on the subject of anger management, as inspired by Meatloaf's maniacal meltdown on Celebrity Apprentice.

It was scary to watch Meat react with such excessive rage over something so miniscule, even though I'm sure dealing with Gary Busey is no easy task, I was kind of shocked to see it all play out. Meatloaf accused Busey of stealing the items he bought at an art supply store, though actually Meat's missing items were later discovered under a bench.

The Loaf really lashed out, his neck veins bulging and his face turning beet red. I was really embarrassed for him, I felt empathy because I have been that raving lunatic before. And I'm not proud of it.

I sometimes get mad about really dumb things (and reading the news makes me mad about really dumb things that happen every day in this world). I blame it on being a redhead. Gingers are naturally predisposed to a fiery personality, or at least that's how I've written off my temper in the past.

I've always been argumentative, but it's only when something crazy goes down (like the time some drunk old woman spat beer in my face at a taqueria) or when I'm very familiar with someone that I really let my nostrils flare up. Take my father, for example. He is just like me (or is it, I am just like him?). He likes to debate and argue and he always thinks he's right.

Whenever we got into an argument about something, it would amplify and we would yell and in the end we would both have to apologize because we both let it get out of control. Since moving out, I'm glad my dad and I can get along better. It's just tough having two of those strong, argumentative types in the same household.

These days, my bitchy side doesn't show itself too often, unless I find myself in a situation where someone is acting like a complete assh*le (like the guy on the LA freeway who threw coins at our car, and I must say I yelled and shook my fist right back at him).

Though sometimes I really surprise myself. For example, I don't like it when I have to repeat myself because I feel like it means you weren't listening. This is such a pet peeve of mine, but I am working on it, believe me.

An example of letting a bad temper take over me happened the other day, when I asked Ben if he could help me with something on the computer. He was leaning over me and told me to go to the "Finder." I told him I was already in the Finder. Then he told me to go to the Finder, again, and I repeated that I was already in the Finder and pointed to the Finder window.

I guess he wanted me to click on it with him standing right there because he told me a third time to go to the Finder, and I guess I raised my voice that time when I told him I was already in the Finder. I'm not perfect, please don't judge me.

I said before that I'm working on it, and I really do mean that. I always apologize if I have a little outburst (except when I'm dealing with turds on the freeway or intoxicated old hags), and being the little self-analyzing head-case that I am I have taken to reading up on anger management and finding solutions to dealing with the problem.

The Mayo Clinic's website had some suggestions on how to best manage anger, but provided nothing more ground-breaking than taking a time-out and refraining from making sarcastic remarks. Ooookay.

Though the suggestions seemed rather obvious, I think it serves a purpose to read them over and reflect on how I can react better the next time I notice my blood pressure rising. Removing myself from the situation really does help, as does taking a little walk and getting some fresh air.

Also, I think understanding the reasons why I get angry and realizing when it's happening are big issues I need to work on. But I've admitted the problem to myself and I won't blame it on the color of my hair (though scientists do say that redheads are more sensitive to pain, which doesn't really explain the seven tattoos I have), and I'm admitting it to the world, so that's already half of the problem. Now to put those breathing exercises into practice...

Let's chat about anger here. How do you deal with it?

One Hit Wonders!! Karaoke Ring o'Death!

Cover of The Verve Pipe

It's that time where us bloggers get together to showcase our recorded embarrassments for all the bloggosphere to see. I'm talking about myself, really, but embarrassment is one of my favorite sensations. Alex, of Ice Wolf, on the other hand can actually sing and play guitar. Check out his rendition of The Verve Pipe's "The Freshman" (a tune I loved when they played it on VH1 when I was 11 and somehow I still remember all the words). I know you're probably not even reading this right now, so just watch his video and be amazed! And if you wanna see my silly butt jumping around to Stroke 9's Little Black Backpack please visit K. Syrah's blog.



Karaoke Blog Ring of Death - One Hit Wonders from Alex Weisman on Vimeo


Oh! And just to do a little plug for my zine, if you would like a copy of the DREAMS issue please just click this link and I'll get one to you right away! I'm listing them on PayPal for two dollars (even though the guy at the print shop wanted to charge me over three dollars per book... ugh). Support literature and the small press!

DREAMS for sale

The latest issue of the zine is out!! I have yet to get it printed, but I'll be doing that this afternoon. If you can't wait for the printed version, I can e-mail you the PDF right now! Just click that little Paypal button and don't forget to include your e-mail address and mailing address.


Ben designed the front and back covers of this issue.

Available for sale now, only two dollars and fifty cents (plus sixty-one cents for shipping). All funds go to pay for printing. Get your copy today, just click the PayPal button!

The word “dream” can be approached in a few ways so I decided to leave the topic open-ended, free for interpretation. This is the largest issue of Be About It to date and I am very proud of it and all the writers who submitted. Thank you so much, and thank you for being so gracious as I put this thing together. Enjoy. And if you like what you see, I hope you consider sending a piece of writing or art in for the next one! 
Love,
Alexandra “the Tsaritsa”

I really hope you get the zine and that you love it! A lot of work went into this issue and I am astounded and overjoyed at the amount of people who contributed this go around. You all rule!

From the City of Angels to San FranDISCO

We just got back from Los Angeles a few days ago and it feels so good to return to the Bay Area. I really love it here and even though I haven't lived here for that long, I have to say that it feels like home. Even when I'm getting off the plane coming back from visiting family in Philly, I let out a sigh of relief as I take in that first breath of Bay Area air. It's different here, there's a good vibe. Los Angeles was fun, but I wouldn't want to live there.

Our insane road rage experience said it all: Ben and I were on the freeway driving to a breakfast spot, following his cousin's car who was just ahead of us. There was a lot of traffic and just as we were cursing the choice of coming on the freeway a man in another car tried to cut us off. Because we were following his cousin we didn't let the guy in, which didn't seem like a big deal. After my window was pelted by pennies and nickels we realized we were dealing with a true hothead: the guy who tried to cut in front of us was now flipping us off, screaming, and projecting pieces of metal at us. Only on the Los Angeles freeway. He's lucky we weren't road ragers, too, or packing heat. We wrote down his plate number. People are stupid.

Because it was a business trip, primarily, we didn't do too many touristy things. We did get to do a little exploration when weren't rushing from meeting to meeting. My cousin Chuck works at a talent agency in Hollywood so we met up with him for lunch one day, and later we met up with my friend Jon who is a producer on Swamp People. I was happy that I got to see some friendly faces while we were there. Check out my photos!


"Go ahead, make my day."



Charlie Chaplin!





Double Darth!





"Dios esta aqui" means god is here. Taken in a thrift store bathroom.



"Excuse me while I kiss the sky..."



Ms. Ingrid Bergman, you were so gorgeous. Gaslight is one of my favorite movies.



I LOVE Jimmy Stewart. Old Hollywood, ftw!



Chillin with Napoleon Bonaparte.







Funny propaganda posters.



Americans are silly.



Inside the Roosevelt Hotel.



I think this is a piece of art by Space Invader, cousin of that guy who made the ridiculous movie "about" Banksy, Exit Through The Gift Shop. Photo taken in Venice Beach.





"She has a house and garden, I would like to see what happens..." Jim Morrison was so sexy.


Did you miss me last week? Just kidding!

New rap: Malthus is back

Image by █ Slices of Light █▀ ▀ ▀ via Flickr

Here's a rough cut of a verse I wrote for a track that Vudukat produced. He posted a video on Youtube a week or so ago with his verse and asked if anyone also wanted to jump on the beat. I really like the tune, it has a tough sound, but also kind of creepy like the Halloween theme music, so it was easy to write something for it. I wrote my rhymes while riding in the car with Ben down to Los Angeles. It's not amazing, but I hope you like it. I'm going to try to shoot a real video later. I'm not sure if he'll use my verse on the song, but even if not it was still a lot of fun to write and rap.




And to prove that I was in Los Angeles last week, here is a photo of me standing next to Phil Collins' star on the Hollywood Boulevard Walk of Fame. Booyah! More photos to come tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Anger Management! Part Two! A guest post by DB

Image via Wikipedia

Today I have another lovely guest on my blog, DB from Free to Dance is here and putting her own spin on the topic of anger management, as inspired by Meatloaf on The Celebrity Apprentice. DB is no newb to the Tsaritsa sez so I'll let her continue on with this lively discussion.


Alexandra was asking around for a guest poster [postor? That looks awkward.], and she mentioned up Meatloaf on Celebrity Apprentice the other night. 

I couldn’t help but feel badly for him. [If you don’t know what I’m talking about go search Meatloaf Celebrity Apprentice Meltdown on youtube or something. Don’t worry about me. I’ll wait.]

La dee da dee da....

You back? If you didn’t look, you lazy bum, I’ll go ahead and give a brief summary. Gary Busey kept asking him at Michael’s if he was going to buy paint and stuff for him too, which irritated him. If you’ve been watching the season at all, you know that Busey is driving everyone bonkers already. Then, when they got back, Meatloaf found out that Busey stole all of his supplies and completely ripped him a new one. [I told you. Watch the video.] Only, the thing is, Busey didn’t steal his stuff; they found it under some stuff like five minutes later. At that point, Meatloaf had no choice but to eat crow and apologize later. [How’s that for a brief summary? Goodness.]

Have you ever been in that kind of situation? Something has happened and rubbed you the wrong way, and you freak out. For a good six years of my life, that pretty much described my every other week. [I’m eighteen. You do the math.]

The question asked at panel [boardroom? What do they call it on this show? Panel is most def ANTM. Don’t get me started.] was about anger management. More specifically, has he or should he attend it? Which makes me wonder, if he needs it for reacting like that, do I? Did I, anyways? I mean, I never straight up started screaming at people before, but I have gotten all sassy and said things that I probably shouldn’t have said. [Cue the ghetto head bobbing and hand waving. Girl, hold my earrings.]

I think the worst of it was after weeks of fighting, I told my former best friend that she was dancing like a ho at a school dance, [Hey, if the stripper heels fit, wear them.] and her mother turned me in for bullying. No, wait. There was the time I slammed my cousin’s head in the door. Oh, or the time I beat the crap out of my sister for stealing the church clothes I brought to dad’s because she forgot hers. [Bitches be crazy.] [I had daddy issues. Get off my back.]*** But I digress.

Some anger problems like Meatloaf’s and mine stem from stress. The more stressed you become, the more likely you are to snap. Honestly, I think there is only so much management that can be done. I mean, I’ve tried the “count to ten” stuff, but then I just say what I was going to in the first place. Walking out of the room has always worked for me, but when you’re in an argument or something, that doesn’t always work. My best friend always tells me that she knows I’m the angriest when I stop talking all together. I know if I open my mouth, I have little or no control over what comes out.

At this point in my life, I don't beat my sister up [not that I could at this point.] or yell at people in my classes. I won't deny that I sometimes snap at people; my witty side comes out tenfold when I'm irritated. The anger is not completely gone.

The only cure for it, in my opinion, is removing myself from the stressful situation, if possible, and sleeping on it. Since that wasn’t possible for poor Meatloaf, he exploded.

In the end, all he could do was apologize and hope that no one rubbed his face all in it.

- DB

*** I swear I’m not crazy. I had anger and depression issues, and for a while there, it was pretty touch-and-go. But I’m better now. *twitch*

________________________________________________
"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies." - Aristotle

Anger Management! A guest post by Was That Awkward?

Image via Wikipedia

Today I have the pleasure of hosting a post by Was That Awkward. I posted a tweet the other day asking if anyone wanted to comment on the subject of anger management and Meatloaf's untethered rage on the Celebrity Apprentice Sunday night. Was That Awkward stepped up to the plate and here is her post. I love it and I hope you will, too.

When The Tsaritsa asked for a guest post about anger management, inspired by Meatloaf's latest meltdown, I watched the video and I immediately thought about that time Brooke from Real World Denver flipped her shit.

This got me thinking (and laughing) about funny meltdowns. I started wondering – do people in the public eye really have these types of meltdowns more often, or do we just see them because they’re in the public eye? Why do people handle anger so differently? When does an angry reaction cross the line from being warranted to being Meatloaf/Brooke crazy, and how does one stop reacting this way once it has started?

Well, The Tsaritsa told me I could write about anything anger-management involved. And unfortunately, I’m not going to be writing about any of the above questions. While I could probably go on and on about my opinions on those topics, I don’t know any of the answers for a fact. And I’m a truth teller, bitches. So I’m going to write about something I DO know – my own anger management.

I’m going to start out by saying I know that sometimes people can need anger management in a serious way. And I’m not pretending to be one of those people. I’m not trying to make light of a serious issue with my anecdotes. But I don’t always handle anger in the best way, and that’s what this post is about.

I’m a very passionate person. As embarrassed as I am to liken myself to Charlie Sheen, I love violently and hate violently. The smallest, tiniest, most miniscule (how is that for redundancy?) thing can make me SO happy. Likewise, the smallest, tiniest, most miniscule thing set me off, and you’d think I just received news the world was ending. It doesn’t help that I’m ALSO very animated. So that just seems to add more positivity/negativity to whatever I’m saying. I’ve been accused several times of being dramatic, mostly in a joking/sarcastic way, but sometimes in a serious way. Which is funny because anyone who truly knows me knows I’m actually one of the most level headed people in existence when it comes to serious things. I’ve been told so many times I’m good to have in a crisis, I handle stress well, and I give good, unbiased, well-thought-out advice. That’s the weird thing – it’s just little things that make me sooooo mad. I throw my whole awesome self into any feeling I’m feeling. And if that feeling is positive, cool. If it’s negative… well, sucks to be you if you’re near me. At least, that’s how it used to be. In the past year or two, I’ve gotten a lot better about it. And today, I’m going to share my tips for managing your anger. They probably seem very obvious to a lot of people, but I really only started to understand them the past year or two.

1. Avoid drinking with anyone who might make you angry. I know this seems so obvious. But when I was younger, the desire to drink anytime and all the time outweighed the idea that I’d have a better time being sober alone than I would getting into a drunk argument with people. I’m about to get really serious for a minute – one time I got incredibly drunk with a close friend and he got extremely violent. It wasn’t someone I would have expected to argue with, but I guess sometimes copious amounts of alcohol can override normalcy. We eventually moved past the situation, but it took a decent amount of time. And it sort of always hung over our heads forever after that. It didn’t help that we were abroad, and when you are traveling you kind of have to put aside your differences for the good of the group sometimes. If you know someone who has EVER gotten physically violent, drunk or not, you need to have some serious talks with them or get a professional to do it. And if you have ever been on the receiving end of it, make sure to never put yourself in that situation again. It’s not something anyone should go through. It made me feel very weird about a lot of things for a long time.

2. Make sure you are angry about what IS happening, not what you think could possibly/probably be happening. I used to do this ALL THE TIME a few years back. I would get paranoid about one thing or another and accuse someone of something, and in the end it would just be me that looked like an asshole. Part of it was a self confidence thing, I think. I just assumed people must be saying/doing things behind my back because, I mean, what’s so great about me that they wouldn’t? I don’t think I gained the proper amount of self confidence until I traveled abroad – both from the confidence travel gives you and by meeting people who were a lot more like me than my friends back home. Anyway though, sometimes this can be a serious issue, but other times it’s almost funny. I have a close friend who is known for being even crazier than me and we always joke around about our crazy reactions to things. This is an excerpt from a life update e-mail I sent her recently. I was describing something a friend had done that bothered me:

I weighed my options of:
1. ignoring it and not bringing it up
2. being crazy (preferred option, obviously)
3. calmly explaining why this behavior is not okay
In an effort to be a grown up, I went with option 3. And let me just say, it worked out pretty well. I know we're both a little unfamiliar with option 3, but let me tell you...option 3 went well for me.

Option three really did go well for me. And it’s just one of many times in the past couple years that I’ve tried to really step back from a situation and decide what I ACTUALLY have a right to be mad at before saying something. And a lot of times, when you calmly explain something that you have every right to be a little pissed about, the other person takes it pretty well, as happened in this case.

3. Cut negative people out of your life. I don’t necessarily mean people who have a negative attitude, although sometimes that can be necessary depending on the situation. I mean people who don’t bring anything good into your life, or who drag you into petty, annoying situations. Part of the reason #2 used to be such an issue for me is because I had really shitty friends who fueled the fire of so many situations. They made me feel like there WERE things to worry about. Over the past 4 years, I’ve lost a lot of friends. One or two have cut me out of their life and I didn’t try to stop them, but most of the friends I’ve lost I’ve actively cut out of my life. Because they were just causing me stress and dragging me down. And even though losing a shit ton of friends in a short period of time can be sad sometimes, in the long run I’m way happier. I might have fewer friends now than I used to, but the ones I have are awesome. They are hysterical, supportive, inspiring, and I think I could count on any of them if push came to shove. Most of them share common interests with me. And, with the exception of a couple, they are also all really laid back and just by being friends with them, I’ve learned to be a lot more laid back too.

4. Understand that sometimes anger is necessary, but also understand that sometimes it’s silly. Sometimes, a good fight really clears the air. I believe that in any close relationship, whether it be friendship or dating, a good yell is just needed sometimes. Once in a blue moon, you have a right to be mad and you just have to yell it out. But sometimes, at least if you’re me, angry reactions can be silly when you look back on them. And you better be ready to laugh at yourself when that happens.

One situation that comes to mind is several years ago, I had the most passive, least-passionate-about-much-of-anything boyfriend ever. I don’t really know how we lasted so long, because I like people with a little passion behind them. (I mean for life… not for the relationship.) And while this kid was a nice guy, he was seriously lacking in the passion-for-life department. But anyway, I distinctly remember one argument about god knows what, where I was yelling, and he was just sitting there and taking it as usual and I turned around and faced the wall and screamed “I MIGHT AS WELL JUST YELL AT THIS WALL BECAUSE I’M MORE LIKELY TO GET A REACTION OUT OF IT THAN YOU!!!” Somehow, he managed not to laugh at the time. I hope he did later though, because I sure as hell did.

In a more recent situation, someone texted me about some argument other friends of ours were having. They accused me of saying something I didn’t say and when I was like no, I didn’t say that, I don’t know what you’re talking about, they responded “God damn you.” I fired off a series of responses including “If you would think that, you don’t respect me as much as I thought you did,” “If that’s what you think of me, fuck that,” and several other things along those lines. They apologized right off the bat but then a little later told me they believed me to begin with and just wanted to “push my buttons.” For a split second I was all “wtf?” but then I realized, I can’t really blame them. My reactions are funny sometimes. The amount of passion I throw behind things can be funny. And it took me a long time to recognize that.

That’s all I got on the anger management front. I’m being completely serious when I say the way I handle almost any situation is completely different than the way I handled things 2-4 years ago. That’s definitely a good thing, and it really did come from being able to keep little things like that in mind. And from making fun of myself 24/7.

Childhood crushes and boy-crazy teenagers: story of my life

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I was an awkward, boy-crazy teenager. When I say "awkward," I mean that I was really bad, and not just in appearance but also in demeanor. I was confused, acne-ridden, and still figuring things out, up until about the time I turned seventeen which is when I sort of settled into myself and became more familiar with the mystery of boys. I had never had a boyfriend or been on a date until I was well into age fifteen, but that didn't keep me from having crushes on just about every boy I met or saw. My fantasies were purely romantic in nature-- I imagined holding hands while sitting in a park or going out to a fancy dinner, with whoever was my crush of the moment. I wrote about these crushes in my journal and thought about them nonstop, but I didn't take any steps to bring my fantasies to fruition. I was too shy. Back when I was four years old there was a boy who I would hold hands with at story time and give a kiss on the cheek every morning, our "morning kiss," and in the second grade I had a similar relationship with another boy whose hand I would hold during science class. I was bold and pretty forward then, but at some point in elementary school I lost some of my confidence in that arena. Anyway, in high-school I didn't even reveal my crushes to my close friends, for fear that my secret would become public knowledge and make me a complete embarrassment. Like most teenagers, I was afraid of looking stupid in front of everyone (I've since overcome that fear), and so only the closest of my friends knew of my most intense idealized loves.

I remember walking down the hallway to class with a friend one time and spotting one of the boys I was mildly obsessed with at the time. I didn't know what to do, but my friend suggested that we call his name over and over to get his attention. We may have been ten feet behind him in a crowded hallway, but she began calling his name and I also chimed in with the chant. He didn't hear us, or he heard us and chose not to acknowledge us. Which is just as well, because I don't know what I would have done if I had gotten his attention. I had no game. My idea of attracting boys was playing hard to get by acting like I didn't see them. I thought that would make them come to me, oddly enough. And of course it never worked. There was one boy who I had a class with that I had a major crush on. This one did actually talk to me and we sometimes walked to the subway station together after school. I tried my best to get his attention in a romantic way, but I really had no idea what I was doing. We would have deep conversations about religion and other issues while waiting for the train to arrive but the idea of hanging outside of that context never came up. I also never brought it up, I just waited for him to do something about it which I was sure he would eventually. I was so certain because he sometimes would take the Ridge-Spur with me to Girard station, where he would get off, and then wait with me at that station for the local to arrive so I could continue on my way home. He didn't have to wait with me, but he did. I was convinced we would end up together. Except a few years ago I found out he's gay, so I guess he just really liked me as a friend. Oh well.

There was one summer when my friend Becky and I would dress up in crazy clothes and run around our neighborhood looking for fun, because we had nothing else to do. We would stroll the blocks acting kooky, trying to draw attention to ourselves, and if we spied a cute Rivers Cuomo lookalike (my type back then was the typical indie dude with slicked back hair, jeans, Chucks, and Buddy Holly glasses) we would try our best to act casual and make brief, but flirtatious, eye contact. Sometimes we followed them around and tried to be inconspicuous. I also don't know what we would have done had we gotten their attention and he wanted to talk to us. I think we would have probably ran away if that situation came to a head. Yet we persisted with this game. One thing we liked to do was dress up in different costumes (one day we'd be Goths, the next ravers, the next androgynous) and walk down South street to our favorite coffee shop on Fourth. There was a guy who worked there that all of my friends and I called "Cool Guy Chris." Becky and I thought he was especially attractive even though he was much older, so we'd stop in for an Italian soda while he was working. We would crack jokes and he would comment on our outfits, and I guess that gave us the satisfaction we were looking for. These are only just some of the crazy things I've done in my time to get a guy's attention. Girls may do some wacky things, but guys are also kind of oblivious. That's all I really have to say.

This was originally posted on From The Head of the Danaconda on March 31, 2011.

Rio discusses KNOWING: A Nick Cage flick

Cover of Knowing [Blu-ray]

Yesterday I said I would be posting a review by Rio from Good Music, Bad Math. Well here it is!

Here we go again with the magical time that is the Bad Movie Review. I am very glad to be hosted by the very awesome and talented Tsa here at the Tsarita Sez. I have Ginny from Ginntastic over at my blog so be sure to check her out as well. This month we actually have a guest star for our blog ring. Quick hint: this guy is related to Francis Ford Coppola and he loves movies…oh so much does he love them. It’s Nicholas Cage.

Nicholas Cage, by my standards, is a “good” actor – good meaning that there have been some roles where I have sincerely appreciated the casting director taking a chance on him. But often, if not the majority of the time, he chooses movies that beyond subpar. So much so that you would think this guy was desperate for work and that he would take anything, but that’s actually not the case.  Many movie-goers shake their heads and question themselves to figure out exactly who is responsible for his possibly drug-aided selection. CollegeHumor had some funny things to say about his roles.

The movie I “chose”, chose being a loose term considering that I found this movie showing randomly at 8am on a Saturday morning, was Knowing.

OooOooOooOooOoo.

What must I “know”, Nicholas?

And so the movie began, whilst I took some mental notes. Okay, Nicholas Cage plays an MIT astrophysics professor. We’re cool with that. He is a widower raising a kid with hearing problems. Alright, a tug at the heartstrings but we are still good. There seem to be people haunting his house and chasing his kid based on a cryptic letter predicting the end of the world. OH, that’s why it’s called KNOWING.

Honestly, this is one of those movies where I'd like to say its Nicholas's fault or the screenplay's fault. Unfortunately, it is very difficult to choose exactly where which one is responsible for my boredom. Knowing has a very clear, apparent, trying-hard-to-be-subtle-but-really-failing message about the end of the world where "everything happens for a reason" and that we must be ready to meet our end. This movie's main failure lies in that message - trying way way too hard. From the beginning up to the middle of the movie, I was pretty sure that there was going to be some sort of plot twist lying up ahead. The plot and dialogue was watered down to a point that it could have screamed "HEY THIS IS REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT" just to make sure that you didn't miss something significant. 


There is one scene I'd like to point out in particular. Nicholas Cage is teaching his astrophysics class at MIT to some obviously very bright, interested undergrads. At the end of his lecture, he stands there - poised firm, eyes locked, slight frown. He is questioning the fate of the Earth and humanity. He wants to know, and this is where you know that he is going to start taking things seriously and try to find out the truth. Duh-duh-duhhhh. Oh, and to make sure you don't miss it, a student asks him, "How about you Dr Koestler? Do you believe that things just happen randomly or for a reason?"


...Yes ladies and gentlemen, even if you can't tell from Nicholas Cage's determined face, that young black MIT student can clear things up with her simple (yet plot deciding) question.


In the end, I think that this movie was an "okay" try at a sci-fi thriller. Unfortunately, Nicholas Cage falls prey to yet another bad script. This movie should lighten things up a bit and not expect its audience to be dumber than a sack of rocks.