Facebook Feuding: Same-Sex Marriage in the Wake of the Charleston Shooting

Finally, some good news in America! Same-sex marriage is legal across the States! This is an incredible milestone and June 26th will forever mark a beautiful step toward putting the ideal of Equality into practice.

But, unfortunately, not all of the "Nation's Homophobic Bigots Pack It In," as The Onion jokes.



This status is a reminder of that:

"Hey the supreme court did something else stupid in support of the immoral. What else is new?"

I do not know about you, but that was pretty different from what I was thinking. You could say it was as far opposite of what I was thinking as possible.

It is no surprise that this poster uses the Bible as the standard for their own personal moral code--they make that very apparent. Of course, their ultimate defense of this moral code is the Bible. Why defend the Bible's moral code with anything but the Bible's moral code? Flawless plan!

There are a ton of comments and replies on this thread, most of them the original poster talking about how "frustrating" the whole ordeal is, disagreeing with anything that might consider progress or a transition from the Old Testament.

I hate Facebook feuds. I tend to stay away from them. I have much time to think about what I want to say, which is great (despite the profuse sweat I usually work up in that time period), but then when it's posted, it is under your opponent's evil microscope, being probed for weakness. But how could I possibly let this slide?

I responded with this (writing this off of memory, but I think it is verbatim):

"Hi Henry. I am curious if you consider homosexuality to be a choice (because in actuality, it is a personality trait). I read that you are concerned for gay couples' children. I happen to know several people about my age who were raised by gay parents and they are beautiful, kind, brilliant and functional, sociable human beings. I wouldn't worry about them. Also, if you are using the Bible to create an environment of exclusion, fear, and judgment instead of Love and Acceptance, the religion's best lessons/qualities, then you are using it for the worst of reasons. What you have said is extremely hurtful to some people, that they are immoral for accepting and embracing their own sexual orientation. I hope that, though the Bible is in print, you can change your mind someday soon."

I decided that that was tactful and could create further discussion. I was genuinely interested in what response he would cook up for me, as disgusting as it could potentially be.

Enter.

End of Facebook friendship.

Bye, Henry! I am sorry that you decided to remove me from your friend list instead of responding, but I understand that frustration does not necessarily facilitate conversational or reasoning skills. Best of luck to you as you attempt to navigate through the rest of your life in a dynamic and ever-changing 21st century. I do not expect that it will be very easy for you.

By the way, my comment took place at about 8AM, so I highly doubt he was in some sort of drunken facebook-deletion rage. But, oh well, what can you do?

The same thing happened when I confronted people posting the Dylan Roof, Lee Boyd Malvo memes in response to the Dylan Roof, Eric Garner memes. I have one screenshot that I will post below. The other post was removed after I commented! And I didn't get a screenshot! Woe is me!

But he argued that the race of the person being arrested doesn't matter, as long as they do not resist, they will be treated well.  I argued that Black people have an overwhelming statistical likelihood to be subjected to police violence, I listed some stats (26% of all police killings were of Black people last year which is double their 13% representation in the US populous) and I posted this video to show how many altercations begin for no reason other than that the subject of harassment is Black:
Video Captures EXACTLY How Cops Treat Black People

No response, meme deleted.

Here is the other conversation (in which I had a tag team partner):

No response. Meme deleted.

I have since seen several posts by both of the original posters of the meme that seem to be continuations of our conversations though, as if to say, "Ha! I was right!" (in addition to a plethora of other terribly insensitive things that seem to come so naturally to them at their entitled vantage points, cliffs shared with the eagles, so far above). I did not comment on them mostly because it was tiresome and there are too many people like that on my newsfeed.

What bothers me is, though they deleted their posts (or me), I feel like I acted as a vaccine that made them stronger, with my single strand of common sense, which they are now immune to, having seen it and been given ample time to recover from it in their virtual solace. Did I make my opposing viewholder stronger by not arguing more diligently? Maybe I spread my focus too wide. Maybe I need to pick one person and just counter every thoughtless thing they might say. Then maybe I can get them to understand my thoughts. To succumb to my "virus" if you want to keep the analogy going (eek, maybe drop the analogy).

Let us conduct a social experiment! I would encourage each of you to latch on to your closest conservative facebook friend and counter everything they say, and if each of us does so, who knows, maybe Bernie Sanders will be elected as our next President. At the very least, you might get a few dumb posts redacted.

Being and Letting

A tornado warning--the best sound the radio offered all day (honorable mention to "Trap Queen" though).

I didn't even know tornadoes could form in New York. Driving through a wooded area between Poughkeepsie and Rhinebeck, I wondered about the damage it might cause to the natural habitat-- to the deer, ground hogs, foxes, squirrels. Did they know what to do? I didn't. I was from hurricane country. Yet, come to think of it, I didn't know how to increase my chances of surviving hurricanes either. My only knowledge of what to do in case of a tornado came from Wizard of Oz and Twister. Which, if you are not familiar with the films, meant my options were either lie down on a bed in my room and ride the wave or chase the damn thing.

I imagined pulling a U-turn in front of a newborn tornado. It screamed with the terror of a  confused and pained infant and so did I. It was a narrow road, so I had to really swing it. I booked it in the other direction, I couldn't imagine there would be much more to it than that. I would just outrace the tornado's tempestuous influence with my action-movie-hero grit. Simple.

My more rational self became audible.
Nick, you would probably run the car into oncoming traffic as soon as you saw the tornado--you probably wouldn't even see it with all of these trees around.
Hm. True.

That word. "True." It bothers me. I have a loose relationship with it, like a chronically dislocating shoulder, tendons forever weakened.

"True" is the uncertainty I feel in this life. I do not know anything about where I am going. I feel like I am losing touch with friends I held dear, with those in my geographic vicinity, and ultimately with myself. I would say I do not know myself, but I think I do. It's only that sometimes when attempting to express what I feel to be my essence, I fail ever so slightly so that my true self is altered in order to fit what I have just expressed. In this way, I change myself, I lose a part of me and I gain something else.

Worse than "true" is the "right" and "wrong" discourse. It is a conjecture not only that something is true, but also that it is the only truth. There is something about the object or action in question that makes it superior (not even-- superior suggests opinion, whereas "right" is assumed to be a non-debatable attachment that makes all else incorrect) to all other objects or actions.  How could something ever be right? There are only things that are beneficial and detrimental to the individual and even that is a grayscale and fluctuates from person to thing to place to person to corporation to plants to person.

I think something that would be beneficial to me is understanding that I am not quite as important or large as I think I am  not even remotely close to as important or large as I think I am. I have not been able to accept that, try as I might. Too much pride or ego or something that keeps me feeling like I am relevant beyond those who interact with me or explicitly care about me. I guess pride came about as an evolutionary trait that helps us survive. If we did not have pride, we probably would lose our young since we would not really see them as special, probably not fight for food since that would be hard and someone else needs that food just as much as we do, probably just give up sooner in general. Pride is important in that sense, but when I am soul-searching, it is a hindrance. All I can think about is occupation, what would pay well, what would society value, what would make a noticeable difference? That is not even soul-searching. It has nothing to do with me. It is about finding something that would make an out-of-touch boy feel proud and in-touch again, even if not with himself.

Why I am soul-searching in the first place? Can I stop looking for a grand purpose and just do the things I enjoy and live a life that I find worth living? I want to yell and laugh and break rules and be present, but all I can do is think of the consequences and the embarrassment and all of the reasons why I cannot do those things. Yes, money makes life easier, no doubt, but do I really have to waste my time cutting my hair every two weeks so that I can pretend to be professional or with menial tasks such as changing the periods to hyphens in the office's phone directory? Is that something that is going to matter when you or I is dead (or even tomorrow)? God, I hope not.  I want to be the goofy, happy-go-lucky, compassionate, sensitive person that my subconscious mind tries to let me be.

And this does not really matter in the long run (either), but I, as I know "I" to be, would want to be ended by a tornado--a beautiful epic destructive force that has been unchanged by the concrete and skyscrapers, unchanged by the opinions and the voices on the radio, unchanged by a description of itself. I do not want to die beneath a knife in an OR; too much antiseptic, too many scientific words. I just want to be, like a natural phenomenon, what I am.

Jurassic World: Why Bother? A Rant Review

Jurassic World in 3-freaking-D. That was the proposition I was faced with last week.

There was so much hype. How could I possibly turn down an offer like that? I could not. I am a fan of Chris Pratt (I watch a lot of Parks and Recreation) and I loved Jurassic Park when I was tot. Without much ado, I withdrew 10% of my account funds so that I could pay my friend back for the ticket.

We got there a few minutes early and the theater was surprisingly vacant. There were people there--it just was not jam-packed the way you would expect a blockbuster to be.  By the time the previews started, a huge crowd of young twenty-somethings came in with flat-rimmed hats, tight jeans, fashionable watches and straightened hair. Luckily for us, they only decided to sit right in front of us. You know the type. Drop-dead hilarious quips to nearly every line that elicits even the slightest internal reaction for you. Or talking about that sick party last night where so-and-so was so funny, he was so wasted, shit, man.

I couldn't wait to accompany them to the parking lot after the feature so that I could sneak a glimpse at their 2001 Mitsubishi Eclipses and marvel at the blue headlights and the maddeningly loud rumbles coming from their exhaust pipes.

I really liked them.

Anyway, from this point on, there may be some minor spoiler alerts, I guess. I say that with some detachment because, come on, do you really think anything unexpected is going to happen in this movie?

If you have seen Jurassic Park, you basically already know what happens. Kids go to the park. Dinosaur escapes. Kids run. Adults save kids, but a lot of adults also die. Raptors and T-Rexes make appearances throughout because it would disappoint those flat-rimmed kids A LOT if they did not. Frankly, I would also be a little disappointed. But would that not be fresh?

No, silly me. You know what is fresh? Here, go ahead and guess. What do you think could possibly be more exciting than just a plain Jane Velociraptor and a been-there-done-that Tyrannosaurus Rex? 

Thinking?

Got it yet?

If you answered, 

A GIGANTIC AMALGAM DINOSAUR THAT COMBINES BOTH THE T-REX AND THE RAPTOR, PLUS SOME DNA FROM CREATURES THAT WOULD MAKE IT LIKE A SUPER-POWERED VILLAINOUS DINOSAUR,
then you are correct!

AMAZING.

They call it Indominus Rex.

Again, amazing.

What else could make it exciting? Oh, I know--involve the military. Who does not love a dirty, scandalous ex-soldier who wants to use the dinosaurs for his own insidious interests? It really throws me for a loop, it is so darn original. Plus it allows for the itty bitty soldiers to fire their itty bitty guns at the GIGANTIC AMALGAM DINOSAUR.

I hate it.

Let us not forget about the love interest. Claire Dearing plays an overstretched park manager who has lost touch with what makes the park "great" (sigh). She is cold to Chris Pratt, and they banter and bicker upon first sight in the movie (mostly Chris, he is actually a huge asshole). The rest of the movie is Wooing Time for Chris Pratt, as the damsel in distress could use some saving in her high heels, designer outfit and slick hairdo. It is only a matter of time before she herself becomes a(n extremely sexualized) badass in heels and realizes that Chris is the one for her because every woman who probably just lost their job and all future employment opportunities only wants a hunky (/douchey) man, right?

Onto another plot point. The raptors can be trained. Chris Pratt is their alpha, as can be gathered from the trailers. The soldier guy wants them to be used for war. To Chris Pratt, and any viewer who has been watching any of the movie at all, that desire is far from fathomable. It is cringe-worthy that so much time is spent building up this plot point (essentially the entire movie) because you already know that it will not work out. It's like listening to a 2-hour joke when you already know the punchline. 

To segway, I just want to say, I love dogs. AMERICA loves dogs. We love predators (thus Jurassic's success). We are fascinated by violence. Which is why we like the dinosaurs that can kill. And what better than senseless killing machines like Indominus Rex? The dinosaurs we are familiar with--raptors! And to ensure we cannot dislike them, the moviemakers made them just like our favorite living animal. Raptors in this movie are just wild dogs. They react like dogs, they are trained like dogs, they turn their heads in a cute little way at Chris Pratt and have this unbelievable sense of loyalty comparable to their mammalian counterparts. But I just want to say, how cheap. Buy my love with some unique storytelling instead of imprinting our favorite animal onto our favorite dinosaur.

Essentially, Jurassic World is the equivalent of Indominus Rex. It is a sorry, sensationalized combination of things, much like something that has been done before, created solely to sell tickets. Right to its very end, Jurassic World is just asking, how can we make this movie as loud and flashy as your Mitsubishi Eclipse? It is certainly as dated, as hard as it pushes for a semblance of newness. Raptor and T-Rex team up to defeat the Indominus Rex at the end (with the help of mosasaur..?) and the way I see it, yeah, the classic dinosaurs (and story, of course) of Jurassic Park are significantly more adequate, novel and entertaining than the childish, quasi-imaginative "concepts" of Jurassic World.

All in all, I have to say I was very disappointed. If you decide to go watch it, that's fair, obviously. You should decide for yourself if it is any good. Just do not forget your flat-brimmed hat at home lest you feel left out.

My Dog Hates Skateboards, and He Is the Best

I have been taking care of my dog, Peppy, for about 10.5 months now. He is an intelligent, expressive and vibrant young Australian Cattle Dog that I adopted from an SPCA shelter nearby.

Peppy hogging the sheets in our apartment.

I live in an apartment with no closed backyard, so I walk him several times a day. On these walks, Peppy encounters things that are of great interest to him. His primary interest is other dogs. But certainly it does not end there! Oh, no.

He is also interested in squirrels, birds, large, loud men, children, high-pitched voices, bees, long-haired, bearded people, dropped food, groundhogs, fire hydrants, tall grass, deer, falling leaves and also shadows.

He does not like all of his interests, strangely enough. Usually when you think of interests, you think of things you like. Not Peppy. He often takes greatest interest in things he does not like. Too often.

The most prominent of his disliked interests are loud, rolling things. Semi-trucks. Buses. Tractors. If they are within his field of vision or audition, he immediately turns to where they are and either tries to chase them or digs his feet into the ground, starts shaking and breathing loudly and waits for them to get closer so he can viciously bark at them and successfully scare everyone sharing the sidewalk with him.

It's a progression. He is alerted. Then he gets excited. Then tense.

And then fucking livid (!!!) that such a creation is even on the face of the planet and convinced it should by all means be exterminated and he is just the dog for the job.

It's usually only a few seconds before the storm (truck) passes. Then he returns to normal, but walks with some more pep in his step.

The rough times are when we are walking on the sidewalk and he spots a skateboarder. Especially if we have not gone to the dog park that day, gods help us. When Peppy has not gone to the park, he acts as hyped up as a human who has just consumed four times their bodyweight in a viscous liquid mixture of coffee, cocaine and adrenaline. The difference is the person would die-- their heart would likely explode. Peppy drinks adrenacoffecaine for breakfast.

When a skateboarder careens-- or worse, lethargically drifts-- by, I am almost always certain that the morning headline will read, "Vicious dog breaks leash; skateboarding punk sees end of days", or something to that effect. The shocked look on the boarder's face: Oh my god, is that dog coming after ME? What the hell did I do?? OH GOD, WHAT DO I DO, SHOULD I STOP, OH GOD, OH GOD, JESUS, HELP, HELP MEEEE, GOD.
Then they're on their way.

Most times, I do not even see the skateboarder until Peppy is already freaking out.

I have grown to associate skateboarder with angry dog. This too, has been a progression.

Peppy hate skateboarder. Skateboarder give anger to Peppy. Me hate Peppy anger. Me hate skateboarder.

So when I walk by myself and I see a skateboarder, I think to myself, "That person is rude and uncaring and I don't know what business they have riding a skateboard when they could use literally any other mode of transportation if they wanted to, but they don't because they're selfish and I hate them!"

I mean, I don't think I'm being unreasonable here. Comment if you agree! If you disagree, kindly remove yourself from the premises.

Workout Tips #1

I have gotten several fan letters requesting that I post workout tips. For all of you workout plebes, here you go--I hope you enjoy! Trade secrets!

The focus of this particular "Workout Tips" post will be home workouts.

PREPARATION
1. Make sure you have all of your workout equipment (e.g. pull-up bar, dumbbells, chairs, towel, water bottle).
2. Get yourself mentally prepared for the grueling workout ahead.
3. If you do not live alone, lock yourself in a secluded space so that no one can see you working out. You would not be doing a home workout if you felt comfortable with others watching you. And I mean, anyway, it is kind of embarrassing when you're grunting, all of your blood turning your head purple as you try to do one more push up and meanwhile your mom is trying to watch Pitch Perfect a few feet to your right. Other people just cannot seem to understand you. It is what makes you special, unique. It is a blessing and a curse.

WORKOUT
1. Place a mirror in your line of sight so you have something to look at in between exercises.
2. Turn off the fans and take your shirt off to produce a beautiful, glistening sweat for your viewing pleasure.
3. Be deathly silent, so as not to alert anyone that you are working out in the bathroom or your sibling's walk-in closet.

COOLDOWN
1. Skip the stretches and stare at yourself in the mirror.
2. Continue doing that.
3. Quietly pack up all of your equipment and wipe yourself down so no one suspects a thing.

RECOVERY
1. Make a smoothie with some organic bananas and junk, claiming you saw it on the Food Network.
2. Watch some Parks & Rec with some Ben & Jerry's because you can do whatever the hell you damn well want. But not because you just secretly worked out. By the way, if it seems like it is a lot of work to hide that you just worked out, it is because it is, but imagine how embarrassing it would be to reveal that you did work out but have been going through great lengths to hide it until now.
Just. Stick with. The plan.
3. If anyone asks where you have been, just say, "What," and make no eye contact.


There you go! Let me know how it goes, and as always, happy healthy living!

A Man of Many Goals

I planned on posting in this blog daily.

Today is the first day after the creation of the blog and I am STRUGGLING to get something posted.

It is not my vision to make this blog one that is narcissistic and self-indulgent. So hopefully most of my posts will not be like this one. But Kurt Vonnegut, in his short essay "How to Write with Style," recommends that writers find a subject they care about. Well, I care about me (sometimes).

When I am caring for myself, now being one of those times, you can be sure to find that I assemble hordes of lists, lists that ultimately consume me from the inside out, top to bottom. You could say I obsess over making lists. It is organizational, it allows me to imagine an ideal world/self, and while I am making a list, I do not actually have to do anything!

Some of these lists include:
daily to-do lists (do the dishes that you didn't do yesterday/because you haven't done dishes in like two weeks);
lists that tell me the things that I want to get for my family members for their special days;
lists of things I need to invest in (e.g. an oil change);
lists of bills that I have to pay;
lists of movies I want to watch/books I want to read;
lists of daily affirmations that I will repeat to myself 10 times each morning until I believe them (actually someone else made one of these for me and I use that one);
and last but definitely not least, a list of goals that I have set for myself to accomplish.

These are usually an eclectic group of goals, but they are all similar in that they require my most disciplined and devoted frame of mind to complete. If I am to accomplish all of them, I certainly must sleep less than I do now.

I'll tell you what my goals are now. They hang in my bathroom, above the toilet, post-its stuck onto a neon pink posterboard.

GOAL #1: P90X
-Everyday
-Best Shape of your life!
Notes: Wow. What? Hard.

GOAL #2: READ
-2.5 books this summer
Notes: Okay, that's manageable, right? 2.5 books. That's not very much. Then consider that I began reading Stephen King's Dark Tower series in the 7th grade and did not finish it before graduating high school. In fact, still have not finished it. And I probably never will.

GOAL #3: JUST WRITE MORE!
-Take 30 min a day
Notes: This is where Sick of Not Caring comes in. But I'm not sure that 30 minutes a day is enough time devoted to this. For me, everything is such a process that by the time 30 minutes is up, I have only just taken out my pen and finished clipping my toenails.

GOAL #4: SAVE MONEY FOR FINANCIAL INVESTMENTS
-Look at list on phone
-Get as many hours at work as possible
Notes: I'm starting to realize that I cannot get the infinite hours at work I imagined. This equals no big bucks, which equals no sports cars.
Kidding. It equals still struggling to pay bills.

GOAL #5: PLAY A BUNCH OF TENNIS
Notes: I want to win this tennis tournament in July because if I do I get a bonus at my teaching pro position. Plus, I'm kind of competitive.

There are more, but I think I'll spare you.

Each one of these goals has an interesting obstacle. Most notably is time. I spend a large slice of my day just thinking and daydreaming. I spend another large slice taking care of my dog. Then a third and fourth slice on sleeping. I have 4 slices left, but, by then, I am not very hungry to accomplish anything. I would rather play arcade games and drink soda. But this very desire is why goals are important to me.

They give me a direction. I often daydream and think about purpose in life (nope, have not found it yet--but droning in front of video games does not make me feel good about myself), and these lists and goals help me do things instead of shriveling into a little ball in my bed and ignoring the world until my landlord is forced to evict me because I have not gone into work or paid rent.

After making the goals, I put them on my Google calendar. That syncs to my phone and reminds me that I have things to do. That's helpful for when I get too involved in a game of Candy Crush. A notification pops up and I think, "Oh, shit. It's time to work out my legs and back with Tony Horton. I don't want to do that. But I know I need to in order to get into the 'Best Shape of my life!', so I guess I will. Ugh." But then I do it.

When I'm struggling to get things done (as I am with this blog post), goal-setting and then assigning the activity that will help me reach that goal to a specific block of time really helps me through. It also helps when I feel like I have lost my individuality. Sometimes, I find that I am devoting all of my free energy and thought to my girlfriend, family and dog and I forget to do things for myself. Goal-setting has been my answer for finding my bearings. My only worry is that I am spreading myself too thin sometimes. But I am giving this all a fair shot this summer. And I will keep you posted.





Are there things you do when you're losing touch with yourself, your motivation or individuality..? If comfortable, share in the comments!

The Sick of Not Caring Blog Purpose

I am a college graduate who wants to be a writer. I know that in order to be a writer, one must write, just as a teacher must teach a bartender must tend bar. How the hell can you be an ______er without _____ing? The answer is you cannot be an ______er without ______ing.

I have, instead of pursuing writing, devoted most of my time to coaching tennis, taking care of my dog, seeing my girlfriend, working out and the like. But I don't regret any of that! Quite the contrary, I love those things and most days, they will be the inspiration and basis of my writing.

The purpose of this blog is to get me to write. There is a Mitch Hedberg joke that goes, "I bought a seven-dollar pen because I always lose pens and I got sick of not caring."

This blog will be my seven-dollar pen. Though I paid no money for it, I will promote it, thus holding myself accountable for posting in it regularly, if not daily. I am sick of tossing my writing to the wayside and not caring.

I want to invest in this. I hope you become invested too, dear reader!