Confession of a Morbid Obsession

  Death. Not just any death, but MY death.

It seems like it’s always on my mind.

It’s as if there is a grim reaper constantly lurking over my left shoulder, like Don Juan suggested. I mean let’s face it, it’s something that will happen to every living being in existence.

I’ve heard it said before that the only certainties in life are death and taxes. I disagree.

I would say that there is only one single certainty in this life, and that is death.

What haunts me the most is wondering where I will go when I die. Somewhere? Anywhere? Nowhere?

Probably NOWHERE. But where is that exactly?

It doesn’t make sense to me, this dying. How is it possible to be HERE one moment and then to just disappear the next? What happens to who I am? Will I have some sort of a consciousness? Will I retain any memory at all of this life that I live now? Will I see my Dad again?

I don’t know the answer to any of these questions and I don’t think that anyone in the world does. This frustrates me. How can I be expected to go on smiling every day like everything is okay all the while pretending that death is not around the corner. The fact is that this body that I inhabit will one day STOP living. STOP breathing. What then? Is that the end? Will I ever know life again as I know it now?

It’s hard not to let a day pass without thinking about my mortality. In fact I don’t think that I’ve ever been able to do that. I constantly wonder about the details of my death. How will I go? How long do I have? Will it be painful?

If I could pick the way that I would die I would choose to pass in my sleep. Or, to make things a little more interesting and unusual, perhaps I would pick freezing to death. I don’t think that it would be too painful, more so uncomfortable. I’d kind of slowly disappear into nothing – or something, depending on how you look at it…

A part of me feels like things will work out, that it (whatever it is) will all make sense one day and that I’ll be okay in the end, but without knowing for certain I can’t help but to fear, doubt and worry.

I want to be as certain as I am that I will die one day, as I am about where ‘I’ will go when I’m dead.

Is that possible?

The Memory Box

  I decided to do some re-organizing last night.

You know how it is. You let things go for quite some time and before you know it there are a stack of papers sitting on your desk that need to be filed away somewhere.

You try your hardest to ignore the mounting tasks that need to be completed and for a while that works just fine.

But sooner or later you can’t stand to look at the mess.

Something needs to be done.

When the motivation to clean up hits me, I have to take it immediately, or I might lose it for another few months.

Last night it hit me.

While cleaning up and putting things away, I came across my “memory box”.

The term ‘memory tub’ would probably be more appropriate. It’s a HUGE plastic Tupperware container that I could almost take a bath in if I wanted to. I could definitely give both of my cats a wash in it at the same time – but there’s no way that would ever happen.

Anyway, I decided to open it up and revisit memory lane.

There are many things in that box.

All have meaning.

Most are from childhood or my teen years.

Only a few things are from the present.

The things that mean that most to me are the things that were my Dads – or things that remind me of him.

I treasure those items more than anything I own.

Last night I came across his wedding ring, which I had (oddly enough) forgotten that I had. I put it on immediately. It fits on my index finger and I’m going to wear it from now on.

Perhaps I wasn’t ready for it until now.

He’s been gone from my life for 8 long years, yet the pain of his loss hasn’t eased much.

I still cry. Hard. Especially when I open up that memory box and see the beautiful framed picture of him pre-sickness.

He didn’t deserve to die. It’s not fair that he was taken away.

He was SO young – 37. Yet he had lived a life that was probably more full than many people twice his age.

But that doesn’t mean that he was ready to go, or that I was ready to have him leave.

I only hope that he knew how much I love him.

I wish that I had told him more often.

I wish that I had listened to his stories with more attention.

I wish that I remembered more about him.

I was 17 when he died and in a lot of ways I think that I’ve remained stuck there, trapped in that time of my life, motionless.

Today nothing is the way I pictured it would be.

He’s supposed to be here.

I want him to be here.

I want him to walk me down the aisle.

I want him to give me advice about everything from cars to movies.

Last night I stared at pictures of my childhood for an incredibly long time. I pretended that if I thought about him hard enough and stared at those pictures long enough that I would be able to be transported back in time. To a place where he’s alive, healthy and well. To a time where I am happy and safe.

If I could somehow send a message to the younger me I would say, “Cherish your Dad NOW! Spend all the time that you can with him and let him know how much you love him! Do it while you can!”

I feel like if I had paid more attention to him and been less consumed by teenage stupidity that perhaps I could have saved him. Like my love may have been able to heal him.

With him gone life feels cold and empty.

Nobody loves me like he did and nobody could ever take his place.

He loved me unconditionally.

He wasn’t my blood, yet to him I was more than blood.

Now he’s dead and there’s nobody to look out for me or to guide me.

I’m all alone. And I don’t know where to go or what to do.

What hurts the most is that I seem to be the only one who cares that he’s gone.

It makes me angry that people can’t remember the good things about people once they have passed. Everyone is so quick to bring up the negative shit. It’s not fair. Everyone has flaws, why can’t we remember the good parts? There was so much good.

It seems like the people who remember him only remember the negative and everyone else pretends that he never existed.

But I can’t do that.

I won’t let him die.

Not again.

I already lost him once.

I will keep him alive and well in my heart and thoughts for as long as I live.

Although memories are certainly no substitute for the real thing.

I so badly wish that I could see him face to face and have a conversation with him. Now that I’m older there would be so many more things to talk about with him. There are so moments that we never got to have.

I feel robbed.

I searched his Bible (one of the only remaining things of his) frantically last night, trying to find something, anything. Some clue as to what he was thinking at the time. All I found were a few small handwritten words “all have sinned” scribbled in the very back of the book.

I don’t know what I was hoping for.

I’ve searched that Bible before – many times. In fact I search it every time that I revisit my memory box.

I always hope that perhaps there was something I missed the last time. Some sort of message from him to me. A message that lets me know that he’s okay and that he knows how much I love him.

I miss you Dad.

Combating the AIDS Stigma

  In the year 1981 the world took a devastating hit as AIDS entered the horizon.

This was the year that the first case of AIDS was officially identified.

At that time very little was known about the disease. We were all in the dark, in a cave so to speak, seeing only mere shadows of a gruesome reality.

Nobody understood what this condition was or how it was spread from person to person.

Twenty-six years later and we have a much better understanding of this condition; however, many of us still remain chained within that cave of ignorance.

Since the first case was brought into the open it’s been estimated that more than a half-million US citizens have died from this disease. In fact, AIDS has grown to epidemic proportions and has traveled around the world and back again, bringing with it modified and updated versions of itself, making it even harder to cope with medically.

AIDS has become such an issue of global magnitude that more and more people are considering the idea of implementing some type of mandatory testing and disclosure procedures.

Opponents of disclosure stand strong in the core belief that as humans we are all entitled to certain fundamental and inalienable rights, such as privacy and autonomy.

Proponents directly challenge this idea, arguing that by nature of being human we are all connected to each other and therefore have certain responsibilities to one other, including disclosing pertinent medical information that may lead to the protection of others.

Most enthusiasts of disclosure trust that by identifying people with this syndrome the chances of it being passed along further will be greatly reduced, as uninfected people will be better protected if they are equipped with the knowledge of who they need to be precautious with. It is considered by many of these advocates a basic philosophical concept – giving up ones rights of autonomy and privacy to benefit the ‘greater good’.

Opponents fight back claiming that such practices will not increase the safety of others. They call attention to the reality that AIDS is relatively difficult to catch and that unless you are in the habit of having unprotected sex or sharing needles you are at an incredibly low risk of being exposed. Additionally it is suggested that disclosing such personal information would likely result in vast forms of discrimination in all areas of the infected individuals lives. It is presumed that increased suffering would be dumped upon the inflicted individuals and that no real benefits would be reaped for the rest of society.

These arguments raise a couple of pertinent questions:

Would mandatory testing and disclosure really be accomplishing a greater good?

Would the knowledge of who has AIDS really increase the safety of others?

I argue no on both accounts and go as far as to contend that such practices would drastically work against the greater good.

Due to society’s overall lack of education regarding the facts of AIDS, mandatory disclosure practices would indubitably do little more than to increase unnecessary fear and panic among the general population. Moreover, those who have AIDS would be treated markedly different and left highly vulnerable. Some would even suffer physical attacks.

The prevailing lack of understanding regarding the nature of this syndrome leads me to suppose that the time has arrived for society to step out from its dark cave of half-knowledge. For it is only in the light that we will be able to see the reality that such practices would cause much more harm than good.

How do we leave this cave of illusion? By listening to Plato and allowing reason to guide us.

It is time to stop fear (fear of AIDS and fear of those with AIDS) from leading our actions. More than ever we need to gain control over the many-headed beasts of our natures and let truth (the facts about AIDS) reign rather than misinformation and false assumptions.

It’s understandable, and even forgivable, that in the 80’s people went to dramatic extremes in an attempt to control AIDS. In fact, a group named PANIC actually proposed quarantining any HIV infected individuals. While today most would likely agree such action to be an unnecessary and unethical move, at the time it seemed to made sense. For all they knew, AIDS was transmitted as easily as the common cold.

Today there is no excuse for such ignorance, but it abides.

Current research proves that AIDS is not easily transmissible, yet many remain convinced that the virus can be contracted from casual contact, sharing a glass or from kissing. The truth is that the only high risks are swapping sexual fluids or blood (or breast milk), typically via unprotected sex or sharing needles.

Despite these hard facts AIDS still carries with it a seemingly immortal stigmatism that often leads to repugnant forms of discrimination.

I have witnessed firsthand the pain and injustice that AIDS victims must endure when the public becomes aware of their medical state.

From the time that I was 9 years old until the age of 17 my parents kept a massive secret from me: the fact that they were HIV positive. They didn’t tell anyone else either for fear of what would be thought.

As my teen years went on my Dad became increasingly ill as HIV progressed into AIDS. He couldn’t hide his sickness any longer and finally let the cat out of the bag to both myself and to the Pastor of the church that we had attended since I was 9 years old.

I remember how different life quickly became for us.

Our Pastor, uneducated as to the facts of AIDS, thought that it was his duty to tell the members of the church (to protect them from infection) of my parents ailment.

These misguided actions dramatically amplified the already present pain in my life and more so the lives of my parents. They were overbearingly judged against, ridiculed and gossiped about by the people who I would have expected it from the least.

Members of the church would smuggly comment on how my parents must have been ‘bad people’ to end up with such a ‘disgusting disease’.

The common belief was that they must deserve this punishment – why else would God let it happen?

People stopped coming over to our house for fear of ‘breathing in the virus’. If they were ‘courageous’ enough to come over they would refuse anything to drink and avoid all food as if it were the plague.

People even began assuming that I had AIDS. They theorized that if I hadn’t been born with it I would have surely caught it simply by living in the same space. I had to start giving long explanations, “Well he’s actually my step-dad, he’s not blood related but he’s the one who raised me since I was 9 so I call him Dad.” I hated giving this explanation (especially considering the low risk of HIV/AIDS being passed during birth and the near impossibility of catching it just from living together) but after losing several ‘friends’ (due to their fear of catching AIDS from me) I felt it necessary to.

What the majority fails to realize is that the knowledge of whether or not someone has AIDS doesn’t directly change anything for anyone except for that individual. That is to say that my behavior shouldn’t change if I find out that you have AIDS and vice versa.

Essentially we should assume that everyone is infected, which again shouldn’t change anything about our behaviors. It is already our responsibility to take proper precautions (such as safe sex and using clean needles if we use them – hopefully we don’t) with everyone that we encounter.

We shouldn’t only be cautious with people confirmed to have HIV/AIDS, as many people who have this virus are unaware. Furthermore, even if someone has been tested recently it is not a guarantee (due to the lag period involved with this virus) that they are negative. Precautions should always be taken.

But I digress. 

Another view to consider regarding mandatory AIDS testing and disclosure is that of an economical standpoint.

It is an exorbitantly expensive procedure, costing between $300,000 – $400,000 per case identified.

Wouldn’t it make more sense if this money were instead channeled into more useful avenues?

More beneficial to all would be to construct a better educational system (regarding this disease) beginning in grade school to establish a well-informed population instead of a fear based one.

Conclusively it is the responsibility of all educated souls to direct less informed individuals out of the cave of shadows and illusions.

As Plato related in Republic this is a very difficult task, but it must be done if we are to progress.  AIDS is a global challenge, not an individual problem. We need to join world forces, model the Buddhas way and let no action bring suffering upon another.

To quote Hume, “…the whole human race would form only one family…with as entire regard to the necessities of each individual, as if our own interests were most intimately concerned.”

For this to be done we need to stop the unwarranted fear of HIV/AIDS while simultaneously reducing the spread of this virus.

Surely mandatory testing and disclosure will not accomplish this task.

Instead we need to weave a plan that entails educating the public from a young age about the facts, encouraging voluntary testing (while ensuring that those who do turn up positive are not discriminated against) and channeling our money into more constructive approaches like global awareness and advanced medical research on how to overcome this tragedy.

Regarding The Unsexiest Woman Alive

  Okay so this is pretty old news. (Does that make it olds?)

I realize that I’m behind the times, but as I just heard about this I feel the need to vent.

I’m sure that you’ve heard the buzz by now and that your co-workers and friends have torn this subject apart.

Perhaps you’ve joined in on conversations and added your 2 cents.

Or maybe you’ve added a whole quarter.

I only hope that your conversations haven’t succumbed to the level of Maxim.

It really pisses me off.

I mean who are they to make the calls on who is “sexy” or “unsexy”?

I understand that Sara Jessica Parker may not be pretty in the traditional sense, whatever that means, but she is beautiful.

Traditional is boring anyway.

Who wants to be Barbie or look at her all the time?

Obviously – and disappointingly – a lot of people, based on Maxims Sexiest/Unsexiest Woman of the year contest.

But I’ve got news for Maxim: unsexy is not even a word. So there!

Is it any wonder why so many people in this country have self esteem issues? What do you expect when you have these magazines trumping who is considered sexy (“Looking like this is GOOD!”) and who is “unsexy” (Don’t look like this! It’s bad!).

The truth is that a large percentage of the population does not look like Barbie. (Thank God.)

Does that mean that most people are “unsexy”?

No – absolutely NOT. There are so many sexy people out there who are not sexy in any traditional sort of way. And to me that’s even sexier.

It seems like all you have to do for Maxim to consider you to be sexy is get some implants, dye your hair and slather on some face paint. They seem content with the deception of perfection. But I wonder if they would be disappointed if we were to pull the masks off of their beauty queens and take away their plastic parts.

I bet they would be. I mean look at Britney Spears. Years ago she was loved by Maxim. Today they’ve moved her into the ‘unsexy’ category. They claim that the reasons why are her 2 kids, 2 ex husbands, slight weight gain and “losing the ability to perform” (Quoted from here.)

But I’m willing to bet you that the main reason why is the weight gain. If she still looked like she did when she was 18, and perhaps went out and got the next size boobs, I don’t think that her personal life would matter much to Maxim. She probably would have made it onto the sexy list.

For once can we have a list of the sexiest woman using REAL people? No movie stars and no makeup allowed? No fake boobies? Just REAL people.

Why not? Why is there this need to wear makeup and lie?

I’m sick and tired of seeing the same fake picture perfect people. It gets old.

I prefer seeing REAL human beings – people who are not “perfect”.

They are the sexy ones.

Can I Unwind the Bind of My Mad Motor Mind?

  My mind is like a machine.

Most of the time it does its own thing.

It’s very routine based and prefers to follow a specific pattern of thinking.

I can see why people often compare the mind to a record player that is stuck playing a scratched up record.

I do, after all, tend to think the same thoughts over and over again.

It’s not that I enjoy doing this, per se. It’s actually quite annoying and I wish that I could stop and turn my mind off, but I can’t.

Can I?

I am well aware that there are all sorts of books and practices out there that say you can train your mind to quiet down.

Many of these practices claim that you can actually switch out the old record for one that is more productive. But even if you do switch out the old record and replace it with something more ‘positive’, so to speak, the fact remains that there is still a record playing. And whether it’s a positive record or a negative record doesn’t really change the fact that there is bound to be a scratch in the thing sooner or later.

Which results in thinking the same thoughts over and over again.

Which results in thinking the same thoughts over and over again.

These thoughts can range from the mundane tasks of life to more universally important issues.

Most of the time, if not all of the time, I find myself listening to the mundane tasks of life – things that are really not all that important in the larger scheme of things.

For example, I often find myself stuck listening to repetitive thoughts about the list of things that I need to do.

Here is an example of a record that I listen to frequently:

“First I’ll do the dishes, then I’ll take a shower, then I’ll get dressed, then I’ll go to the store, I’ll come home and put the groceries away, then perhaps I’ll go get a cup of coffee, by the time I get back home I’ll make dinner, do some more dishes, oh and I should really clean the bathroom, then I would really like to make some banana bread…”

The thought of making banana bread gets to me to thinking about my banana bread recipe, which I am trying to perfect. “Should I try it with ¼ cup canola oil this time or do I want to make it how I made it last time? Let’s see…if I add ¼ cup canola oil I’ll have to subtract some liquid somewhere else, otherwise it will need to bake longer. Hmm…maybe I can reduce the amount of banana in the recipe by just a tad.”

Next thing you know and I’m obsessing over how to make my recipe even better and before I know it an hour has passed and I haven’t really done anything incredibly productive or useful to the universe at large.

I realize that when put under the proper light the mind is a beautiful thing. But for me it’s more common for it to feel like a frightfully maddening place.

It often seems as if my mind is controlling me. Like my thoughts are thinking me rather than me thinking them.

Maybe they are thinking me? I mean after all, technically I don’t even exist, right?

How can I be thinking thoughts if I don’t even exist?

I deal with this drama every single day. Constantly mulling over one obsession for as long as I can, tearing it apart into pieces, which eventually leads me to the next obsession.

I move from obsession to obsession to obsession, over and over, again and again, on and on…you get the point.

It is truly maddening.

I wish that I could unwind this bind. But maybe this is just the way it has to be.

The mind is, after all, a highly complex computer-like machine that thrives on solving puzzles. And it doesn’t really care what the puzzle is. It can be something as unimportant as whether or not my banana bread will be better with ¼ cup canola oil or something far more useful and advantageous like Einstein’s theory of relativity.

To the mind there is no difference in solving a mundane problem than there is in solving a universal problem.

It just wants to solve whatever ‘problem’ is there.

But it sure would be nice if I could command my mind to think about something more productive than banana bread and dirty dishes.

Perhaps I can?

But what is productive anyway? I mean, it’s all relative right?

Mananda Bread

  My own crafted vegan Banana Bread Recipe. 

Enjoy! 

Ingredients:

½ cup granulated sugar

¼ cup brown sugar

 3 bananas, mashed

1/4 cup canola or vegetable oil

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1 cup all purpose flour

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

½ ts salt

1 ½ tsp cinnamon

¼ ts nutmeg

¼ ts allspice

2 TBS ground flax seed

½ cup chopped walnuts

Directions:

Mash bananas into a mush. Mix in the white sugar, brown sugar, oil and vanilla. Set aside.

Mix the remaining ingredients together in a separate bowl.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry, mixing just until everything is moist. Do not over mix – some lumps are okay. Batter will be thick.

Pour batter into a bread pan that has been sprayed with a non-stick spray.

Bake in a pre-heated oven at 350 degrees for 50 minutes.

Cool for at least 10-15 minutes before removing from pan.

Eat and enjoy!

Why Jack Black Sucks Donkey A$$

  I’m sure that there are countless reasons why Jack Black sucks, but what I specifically want to rant about today is how he completely ruined ‘Be Kind Rewind’.

Gondry make a BIG mistake by casting Black.

Okay, I’ll admit that Jack Blacks acting wasn’t the only thing wrong with this picture. It’s true that there were many large, rotting plot holes, but those holes would have been a lot easier to overlook had someone (anyone) other than Black been in the spotlight.

The main problem that I have with Black is that he plays the same character in every movie that he stars in. This wouldn’t be so bad if that character were actually somewhat likeable. Instead he appears as a highly annoying, over dramatic and seemingly retarded guy time after time.

Is it really acting if you’re pretending to be someone who is identical to yourself?

So why did I even bother going to see this movie if I hate Jack Black so much? Because I knew that Gondry made it. I can guarantee you that if this movie were made by anyone other than him I would not have made a trip out to the theater to see it. I probably wouldn’t have even rented it.

Honestly the description of the movie alone (and knowing that Jack Black was one of the main characters) had me alarmed from the beginning. But being that Gondry made the film, I thought that there was hope. I thought that he must have known what he was doing. I mean he is the genius who came up with such great films as ‘The Science of Sleep’ and ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’ after all. (Both of which rank in my top 5 movies ever list.)

While I assumed there was a good chance that ‘Be Kind Rewind” would not surpass Gondrys previous works, I thought that it would at least be mildly entertaining and filled with nifty artsy bits. And while there were a few eye pleasing moments (such as a Godzilla costume made using a toy truck as the face, a car made out of a bathtub and a Robocop costume using a hairdryer as a gun) there were far less than I had hoped for. Definitely not enough to make it worth seeing.

If you haven’t seen ‘Be Kind Rewind’ yet and you are planning to, you can count on being highly disappointed. The movie lacks….a lot. And I’m a big time Gondry fan. I don’t know what went wrong (asides from Jack Black). It’s clear, from previous work, that Gondry is a highly talented individual. He has done some wonderful stuff, but for some reason this movie is sub standard.

Whatever his reason was for making a shitty movie I can look past it and realize that all humans are flawed – we all make mistakes. And sometimes they are really big ones. He’s still a genius and I will continue to look forward to any future work that he will come out with. But for the love of God he had better not make another film with Jack Black, or anyone close to being that annoying. I mean really, he mine as well have cast Lindsay Lohan or Paris frigging Hilton for that matter. I probably would have actually liked the movie better had he done that.

Personally I would rate this movie 1.5 out of 5 stars. Had I not been with a friend I would have walked out of the theater.

My advice is – don’t waste your cash.

Welcome to Blogaholics Anonymous

  Hi, my names Growlbert and I’m a blogaholic.

If, like me, you find it difficult to pry yourself away from your blog for even a moment, then this surely is the blog for you.

I am here to offer my assistance and to assure you that you do not need to face the battle against Blogaholism alone.

Let me be the first to publicly admit that I have a problem: I’m addicted to blogs.

By sharing the effects of a serious blog addiction it is my hope that I can help others to avoid making the same mistakes as I have.

Let me start off by saying that there is a strong chance that you may have a problem if you find yourself reading this at 2 o’clock (or later) in the morning. If this is the case then you likely suffer from some form of blog addiction. This could be blog dependency, blog abuse, or one of the most serious conditions of all: full-blown blogaholism.

Here are some definitions and criteria to help you better determine your status:

Blog Dependency and Abuse

The individual experiences repeated blog-related difficulties. For instance: an inability to control blogging, spending a large amount of time associated with blogging, continued blogging despite physical or psychological consequences, persistent desire or unsuccessful efforts to cut down or control blogging, and finally: withdrawal symptoms.

Blogaholism

Usually this is a two-phase problem.It frequently starts off as problem blogging. This involves the repeated act of blogging, quite often in an attempt to alleviate anxiety of some form.

The second phase is blog addiction. This is when the person is truly addicted to the repeated act of blogging.

Blogaholics may exhibit some or all of the following criteria:

1. Physiological dependence on blogs with evidence of withdrawal symptoms when blogging ability is interrupted. (Ex: Person becomes irate when mundane life tasks take them away from their blog and/or feels like they cannot get through the day without some form of blogging.) 
2. Tolerance to the effects of blogging, prompting the need for more and more blogging in order to achieve the desired effect. (Ex: Creating one blog a day is no longer satisfactory. Now the individual necessitates the creation of multiple blogs, sometimes 5 or more, each day. * Note that 5 or more blogs in one hour may indicate a separate, but related, problem known as binge blogging.)
3. Evidence of blog-associated difficulties such as the inability to concentrate (on anything other than blogs).
4. Continued blogging despite associated disruptions in ‘normal life’. (Ex: Blogging to the extent that your significant other considers leaving (or actually leaves) due to a lack of attention from you.)
5. Impairment in social and occupational functioning. (Ex: Being unable to converse with others about anything that is not blog related.)

If after reading this you feel that you or someone you know may suffer from blogaholism, you should consider taking this questionnaire for further clarity.

(Parts of this blog have been modified from Contemporary Nutrition, chapter 7)

Do I Even Exist?

  It might seem like a ridiculous question to ask, but I’m serious. Let me explain…

I was raised in a Christian home. When I was 4 years old my Mom ‘found’ Jesus (or He found her) and from that point on we were church going peeps. Being young and vulnerable I never really questioned what I was being told to believe – or at least not out loud. I had doubts in my mind of course, but I was far too scared to voice them for the fear of burning for all of eternity in a burning hot pit of fire. I always prayed to God, for fear of rotting in Hell if I didn’t, but I couldn’t help but wonder if He/She/It was really there. (Are you there God? It’s me, Growlbert.)

One of the first things that I did when I moved out of the house was buy a Satanic Bible. That’s right I took a dive straight into I the opposite end of the spectrum. But I didn’t stay for long. I was pretty disappointed in what I found there and so my Satan loving phase ended even faster than it began.

That was years ago.

Since that point I’ve been trying to figure out what it is that I believe. I’ve been doing this for years. And I must say that I’ve gotten a little closer…to nothing. That is to say that I don’t feel like I am any closer to having any concrete beliefs, but I have grown more comfortable and sort of okay with the idea of not knowing (anything).

 For a while I tried on different religions and various spiritual practices, but I quickly found that they all sort of fit the same. It’s like putting on what you think looks like a different shirt only to realize that the tag still reads the same – it’s the same brand name just a slightly different cut or color.

The problem for me is the dogma that accompanies any sort of organized religion or spirituality. In my opinion things get weird when dogma enters the scene. It makes me feel trapped. I don’t like being boxed in – at all.

Recently while cruising Amazon.com for books on lucid dreams (an obsession of mine) I came across a book called Awakening to the Dream . It was a sort of coincidence that I stumbled upon it because it’s not even about dreams. After reading a bit of this book online I knew that I wanted to buy it. A week or so later it came in the mail and I read it the same way that I eat apple pie: slowly, savoring every bite.

This book is a simple – yet deeply beautiful – explanation of what’s called Non-Duality  (or Advaita). There are no practices to follow. In fact the whole idea of the book is that there is nothing to do because there is no one to do it. The idea is that there is no ‘you’ or ‘me’ – there just IS. Don’t ask me to explain what that means, because I can’t. All I know is that some part of ‘me’ (even though apparently I don’t exist) seems to understand the concepts presented in this book.

It’s a similar idea to that presented by Dustin Hoffman in I Heart Huckabees when he is talking to Jason Schwartmans character about the ‘blanket truth’ . The blanket is all that exists and while there are many things that pop up in the blanket (hamburgers, orgasms, etc) the reality is that “everything is the same even if it’s different”.

So what this means is that you are me and I am you. Everything is connected. Which means that everything is the same. There is no separation only the illusion of it. If this is true than there can only be ONE. But one what exactly?

Genetically Challanged

  Figuring out how to lose weight - specifically fat – is confusing. Is there a cure all – some sort of a magic formula – a one-size fits all fix? It’s doubtful.

I know that in a technical sense the idea of losing weight is ‘easy’. Your intake simply needs to be less than your output and that makes complete sense. I don’t have any trouble understanding how that works, but what I do have difficulty with is comprehending the vast world of exercise. I’ve been working out – on and off – for a few years now and I still don’t feel any closer to having any of the answers that I’m looking for. The main problem that I run into is that everyone on the block seems to have a different opinion. Opinions are as varied as people’s personalities, even amongst experts. For example, no one agrees on how often you should work out. I hear everything from 3 days a week to 7 days. Similarly nobody agrees on how long you should work out for. I hear anything from 30 minutes to an hour and a half. And there’s always the person who throws in a clause at the end: “but any amount of time that you spend working out is better than no time at all.” All of this gets confusing for the average person, like myself, who is simply trying to be healthy and lose a little extra chunk in the process.

I suppose that one of the main reasons there is so much variation out there is because of the fact no two bodies that react identically to any given stimulus. We all know (sadly) that what works for one person may not work as well for the next. How then do I find what works for me? What will give me a washboard stomach? I hear that ab exercises alone will not do it because one needs to lose actual fat (which makes sense) before abs can shine through. Yet I’ve been doing cardio (5x week/1 hour at a time) for 2 years (although it has been somewhat on and off, though mostly on) and I have yet to see any real life shattering results. I have lost weight (about 5 pounds) and I can see my abs more than I could before, but there are still those dreaded love handles and a thin layer of fat on my lower abdomen.

What I want is to hear straight from an ab source – someone who actually has abs. And I want this person to be someone who didn’t always have them. I want this person to be someone genetically challenged, like myself, who overcame their bodies chromosomal codes and managed to sculpt a flat stomach. I want to know details, like what this person does as a workout routine and what they eat in any given day. I don’t want a link to some webpage with a bunch of advertising gimmicks and cookie cutter answers. I want truth from an actual living, breathing human being. Hello? Is there anybody out there?

The funny thing is that out of all of the people that I see in the gym in any given week there are only 2 women whose bodies completely impress me. Don’t get me wrong, there are some good looking bodies there, but I’m just saying that there are 2 in particular that have somehow found the magic trick to creating a lean mean muscle machine. They are thin, yet muscular (but not too much muscle), fit and athletic looking. I feel like with the amount of time that I spend in the gym that I should look more like them and less like, well…me. I wonder how they got to where they are now. Was it trial and error? Was it pure luck? Do they need to be in the gym 24/7 to keep up their awesome Gladiator esc bodies? I wish that I knew. Yet even if I did know their personal routines there would be absolutely no guarantee that what they are doing would work as well for me. And that pisses me off.

I’m tired of reading about people who have flat stomachs. I’m tired of other people, who do not have anywhere near a flat stomach, suggesting a book with some exercises that they think will work. I need to hear from an actual legitimate source – if one exists. I’ve thought about going up to one of the 2 Gladiator women in the gym, but I’ve always chickened out. I don’t want to give them the wrong impression. I’m just genuinely curious as to how the hell they do it and what the frick I need to do to see them when I look in the mirror. Of course there is the sad possibility that I may never be able to see them (or something close to them) in the mirror. Some say that genetics play a very large role and that not everyone is capable of having a washboard stomach. But is that truth or is that just the bitterness of someone like me who has never had success with getting the stomach that they want?

I feel like I’ve been trying my whole life to get a flat stomach. Either I’m not trying hard enough (or not doing it right) or my body is incapable. I refuse to give up hope yet though. I will keep trying to attain the ‘perfect image’ and in the meantime perhaps I can learn to love, or at least to accept the body that I have. I’m definitely not there yet.