I just bit the ever-loving-shit out of my tongue. I'm sitting at my desk going through emails, plotting out my day whilst enjoying some lovely sliced fruit, when my tongue just decides that it wants to see what it'd be like to lay on top of my molars for a just a split second too long. You'd think that after hanging out in my mouth for lo' these past 40+ years it'd understand that this is a terrible idea. I bit down on it and it made a horrifying "CRUNCH" sound in my head. I'm pretty sure that other people could have heard it, that's how loud it was. Oh fuck that hurt. I think I'm bleeding. Luckily I have a little mirror here at my desk (so I can check out my eyeliner and rouge) so's I can inspect the damage. Hold please while I do so. Yep. Blood. Nice work stupid. I can't even chew properly. Fuck me. I didn't even bit the tip (ooh, that sounded wrong). I munched down on the fucking side of it. The thick part (again, poor choice of words there). Ugh. It looks a little shredded. Grosstown, Stupidville. Popluation: Me.
I'm pretty fortunate in that where I work is flexible enough to allow me to have non-traditional hours (I'm usually at my desk by like 7:20-ish and I skate by 4pm). This permits me to avoid the bulk of the traffic on my dumb commute. That's not to say I just sail into work as the only person on the road, it just makes it less shitty is all. I appreciate this y'see. Otherwise I'd have to go back to using the commuter rail as my main form of transport and well, fuck that. I like the idea of public transportation as long as it is all you mahfuckahs taking the train leaving me to drive on unclogged roads. In practice, the MBTA is wholly unreliable and, frankly, not significantly cheaper or convenient. This coming from a guy who used to work for an energy conservation company (3 different times!) and – lest we forget – Green-fucking-peace.
On the days when I can't leave on time due to a meeting or whatever, I can end up spending quite a bit of time sitting in traffic behind people judging their behavior, usually unfavorably. The Look-Talkers (those drivers who have to look at the person in the passenger seat while they are talking while in command of a 4,000lb vehicle), The Lane-Drifters, The Slow, The Tailgaters, etc. I'm sure you're familiar with these morons. Recently I was stuck traffic in Revere near the Wonderland T stop and in the left hand lane was this car full of laughing teenage girls. They were shriek-laughing and dancing to some pop song and generally being young. I glanced over at them because the one who was driving was far more concerned about how much self tanner she had on than where her car was headed. She was clearly having difficulty with the concept of painted lanes and I was genuinely concerned that she was going to play bumper pool with my car. Once I had determined that she had regained control of her shitbox, I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw the Disapproving Eyes of the woman in the car behind me. She thought I was checking out these girls in a super-creepy-leering-old-fart way and was slowly shaking her head. She was JUDGING ME and finding me GUILTY AS CHARGED. Fuck you lady.
Traffic continued to crawl along and I kept my head pointed straight ahead. I didn't like the idea that I had been labeled as a pervert by this lady behind me (yes, I know I'm projecting here....relax) and I wanted to prove my innocence by COMPLETELY ignoring the car full of banshees mere feet from me in the next lane. After a couple of minutes of this I started to get annoyed with this scenario. Who was that lady to think poorly of me? She doesn't know me. Who made her judge and jury? That's totally my job!! Then I noticed up ahead on the sidewalk was the living embodiment of a creepy guy's fantasy girl. Asian? Check. Schoolgirl outfit? Check. Pigtails? Check and mate. All she was missing was the Sailor Moon outfit or perhaps a massive lollypop. She was Knives Chau in a nutshell. I saw that she was walking towards where we all were sitting in traffic and I decided that since this lady had already judged me as a creepy creep, then I was gonna go ahead and just stare right at this girl as she walked by. And I did. And just as I was about to continue my stare like a full-on skeevy meathead, the girl glanced over at me and A) caught me! B) I realized that omg she's like 15 or 16! and C) I felt EXACTLY as I should: A super creepy old dude. Bleah.
So uh, sorry random asian schoolgirl. I'm gross. And screw you lady in the car behind me. You're a tailgater anyway.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Religious Bigotry
Religion to me has been a conundrum for some time now. I was raised Catholic and as a little kid I was a true believer. I bought into the mythology completely and without wavering. I knew there was a heaven and hell and just as surely as I knew my own name (it's Mark by the way...see? I still remember!). There were rules about what behavior was good and there were specific things you absolutely could never EVER do. Not only did I never doubt their authority, it never even dawned on me as a child to question it. I went to church every Sunday as well as CCD (a.k.a. "Sunday School" although it was never actually on Sunday. It was usually during the week and at night). The ritual of the sermons and the repetition of the odd little play that we put on every week at church with the priest – here's where he will stand up there in that shiny dress thing and he will say these words and then we will all respond in a monotone with this phrase. Then someone will ring a bell thing or play one sharp chord on the organ and then we will stand up or kneel or something en masse. Wash, rinse, repeat – it was comforting. I liked the structure of the mass and how the building was so physically intense. It must be the truth if they went through all this trouble right? I even liked confession and would sometimes make up stuff just to see if I could get more Hail Mary's assigned to me. I think you will agree that I may have misunderstood the concept a little.
As I got a little older, maybe 12 or 13, I started to have some serious doubts. The cracks in the stories became too large to ignore and the very same ritualistic nature of the Sunday mass that I used to look forward to began to irritate me with its repetitiveness. I couldn't understand the point of saying the same things over and over again, week in and week out. It seemed absurd. About this time I had convinced my parents that it was perfectly ok to let me go to church on my own. I would get up early on Sunday so that I could go to the early mass (which was like 9am or something like that). But instead of actually going to church, I would ride my bike downtown and just goof off for 45 minutes. After the service was over, I'd ride by the church to see which priest had been giving mass so that if my parents asked who did the sermon, I could rattle off the name. Not a terrible lie in the grand scheme of things but I do still feel bad about the cowardly deception all these years later.
Why didn't I just tell them that I didn't want to go to church anymore? After all, my dad had kinda fudged on going regularly by this time so the precedent had been set. But my mother was still a firm believer (and remained so right up to the end) and I'm pretty sure she would have said "No way, kid. You're going to church. End of story." Things were not "discussed" at our house. Things were decided and you had to play along. I don't mean to make that sound like such an ominous thing because it really wasn't. It just ... was. And I would still go to church occasionally. Maybe I was experimenting (as I now understand it) to see if my waning faith could be reclaimed, that maybe it was only a temporary lapse and by going to one more inspiring mass I'd be re-calibrated or whatever. But nope. It didn't take. I couldn't get past the idea that the priest was just some guy. He couldn't POSSIBLY know 100% for sure that all of this wasn't just complete nonsense. Why then was he so adamant in trying to convince others that he was right?
By the time I entered high school I was no longer going to church and had entered the lapse Catholic phase. I didn't know what I thought about religion or god or spirituality or anything really. If someone asked me about religion, I still identified myself as Catholic but all the strength behind that word was gone. I just wanted to live my dumb life and not address the subject of faith and honestly it was really easy to avoid. I guess I was an agnostic at this point because while I didn't think organized religion (of any kind) had the answers, I still had doubts as to whether or not there was/is a higher power/god. I simply didn't think about it that much, if at all. I was too wrapped up in my own day-to-day drama and narcissistic to think beyond myself in any capacity. In other words: A teenager.
After I moved out of my parents house I would have some discussions with friends about the subject of religion and while I don't think we really thought we were solving all the world's problems with our meandering drunken blather, I did find that these conversations moved me further away from what my parents and the church had steadfastly taught as the absolute truths. I liked talking to people who had had different backgrounds and interesting perspectives on what it meant to be religious. It helped me work out the confused thoughts and nagging doubts I had been ignoring for years. I didn't want to think that all of the stuff I had been taught was wrong, but it was looking more and more like this was the case.
It took me a few more years to ramp up the courage to admit to myself and others that I don't believe in god, the afterlife, miracles and all of rest. I became an atheist. And it wasn't a bad thing either. It was liberating. I grew up believing that doubting god's will or daring to flat out deny his very existence was not only unfathomable but downright impossible. You could insult god by not believing and in turn incur his wrath. Why would you doom yourself to hell by thinking these thoughts? Ok, the stories are a little dated and maybe there was some creative license with a few details but why not play it safe and hedge your bets with the ol' agnostic route? You can always reverse yourself at the last minute before you die and wind up in heaven with a quick "forgive me Father" prayer. Right? Isn't that basically what the guy who was crucified next to Jesus did? But no, I can't. I won't. I don't know how to fake it.
The problem that I have had with all of this is as a born-again atheist (is that possible?), was that I have been struggling with really strong opinions about people who identified as religious. I thought there was something fundamentally wrong with them. I was condescending towards their beliefs and while I've never actually said anything to right to their faces, I certainly was judgmental and probably somewhat arrogant towards them (I'm a terrible actor). I was wrong to do that and basically I was being a religion bigot. If that's not a thing, it is now. I had to reconcile my own belief system (for lack of a better term) and how it shapes my world view as a newly formed atheist, now that I was "out of the closet" (so to speak). Should I "turn the other cheek" about religion or would I be a zealot and bang the drum loudly for the atheistic view? Well I certainly can't be a dick about this...so I've taken the "live and let live" approach. Because if I think that the priest is just some guy who doesn't really know if what he's talking about is really true, then who's to say that I'm not exactly like him? As I have shown time and time again, I'm a huge dummy.
Where am I going with all of this? I guess I'm not entirely sure. I've been thinking a lot about this subject lately and with religion AGAIN coming into play this election season, it's really been bothering me that there doesn't seem to be a voice of reason. I do not want religious beliefs to be a deciding factor in policy issues. I'm tired of hearing from wingnuts on both sides of most political debates that our country is doomed and the only way to regain our former glory is to fight over issues like gay marriage and a woman's right to choose. I'm simplifying here of course but for fuck's sake I thought we were all equal in this country. How is it that some groups are more equal than others? I hope that most people who are religious don't think the way that the politicians and pundits on TV seem to believe, but this is making me nervous. Please tell me that social conservatism isn't as widespread and prolific as it appears to be. I can't get my head around that concept. Who the fuck do you think you are if you think you can impose your beliefs on others? Is that what your god would have wanted? I thought it was all about loving each other for who we are? Or was that just a bunch of hippy bullshit?
If you do think that way, then I'm pretty sure by oppressing your fellow human beings by imposing your archaic religious dogma on them is a one-way ticket to hell. Luckily for you though, it's all made up. But for reals, get religion out of politics and let's fix some goddamn potholes.
As I got a little older, maybe 12 or 13, I started to have some serious doubts. The cracks in the stories became too large to ignore and the very same ritualistic nature of the Sunday mass that I used to look forward to began to irritate me with its repetitiveness. I couldn't understand the point of saying the same things over and over again, week in and week out. It seemed absurd. About this time I had convinced my parents that it was perfectly ok to let me go to church on my own. I would get up early on Sunday so that I could go to the early mass (which was like 9am or something like that). But instead of actually going to church, I would ride my bike downtown and just goof off for 45 minutes. After the service was over, I'd ride by the church to see which priest had been giving mass so that if my parents asked who did the sermon, I could rattle off the name. Not a terrible lie in the grand scheme of things but I do still feel bad about the cowardly deception all these years later.
Why didn't I just tell them that I didn't want to go to church anymore? After all, my dad had kinda fudged on going regularly by this time so the precedent had been set. But my mother was still a firm believer (and remained so right up to the end) and I'm pretty sure she would have said "No way, kid. You're going to church. End of story." Things were not "discussed" at our house. Things were decided and you had to play along. I don't mean to make that sound like such an ominous thing because it really wasn't. It just ... was. And I would still go to church occasionally. Maybe I was experimenting (as I now understand it) to see if my waning faith could be reclaimed, that maybe it was only a temporary lapse and by going to one more inspiring mass I'd be re-calibrated or whatever. But nope. It didn't take. I couldn't get past the idea that the priest was just some guy. He couldn't POSSIBLY know 100% for sure that all of this wasn't just complete nonsense. Why then was he so adamant in trying to convince others that he was right?
By the time I entered high school I was no longer going to church and had entered the lapse Catholic phase. I didn't know what I thought about religion or god or spirituality or anything really. If someone asked me about religion, I still identified myself as Catholic but all the strength behind that word was gone. I just wanted to live my dumb life and not address the subject of faith and honestly it was really easy to avoid. I guess I was an agnostic at this point because while I didn't think organized religion (of any kind) had the answers, I still had doubts as to whether or not there was/is a higher power/god. I simply didn't think about it that much, if at all. I was too wrapped up in my own day-to-day drama and narcissistic to think beyond myself in any capacity. In other words: A teenager.
After I moved out of my parents house I would have some discussions with friends about the subject of religion and while I don't think we really thought we were solving all the world's problems with our meandering drunken blather, I did find that these conversations moved me further away from what my parents and the church had steadfastly taught as the absolute truths. I liked talking to people who had had different backgrounds and interesting perspectives on what it meant to be religious. It helped me work out the confused thoughts and nagging doubts I had been ignoring for years. I didn't want to think that all of the stuff I had been taught was wrong, but it was looking more and more like this was the case.
It took me a few more years to ramp up the courage to admit to myself and others that I don't believe in god, the afterlife, miracles and all of rest. I became an atheist. And it wasn't a bad thing either. It was liberating. I grew up believing that doubting god's will or daring to flat out deny his very existence was not only unfathomable but downright impossible. You could insult god by not believing and in turn incur his wrath. Why would you doom yourself to hell by thinking these thoughts? Ok, the stories are a little dated and maybe there was some creative license with a few details but why not play it safe and hedge your bets with the ol' agnostic route? You can always reverse yourself at the last minute before you die and wind up in heaven with a quick "forgive me Father" prayer. Right? Isn't that basically what the guy who was crucified next to Jesus did? But no, I can't. I won't. I don't know how to fake it.
The problem that I have had with all of this is as a born-again atheist (is that possible?), was that I have been struggling with really strong opinions about people who identified as religious. I thought there was something fundamentally wrong with them. I was condescending towards their beliefs and while I've never actually said anything to right to their faces, I certainly was judgmental and probably somewhat arrogant towards them (I'm a terrible actor). I was wrong to do that and basically I was being a religion bigot. If that's not a thing, it is now. I had to reconcile my own belief system (for lack of a better term) and how it shapes my world view as a newly formed atheist, now that I was "out of the closet" (so to speak). Should I "turn the other cheek" about religion or would I be a zealot and bang the drum loudly for the atheistic view? Well I certainly can't be a dick about this...so I've taken the "live and let live" approach. Because if I think that the priest is just some guy who doesn't really know if what he's talking about is really true, then who's to say that I'm not exactly like him? As I have shown time and time again, I'm a huge dummy.
Where am I going with all of this? I guess I'm not entirely sure. I've been thinking a lot about this subject lately and with religion AGAIN coming into play this election season, it's really been bothering me that there doesn't seem to be a voice of reason. I do not want religious beliefs to be a deciding factor in policy issues. I'm tired of hearing from wingnuts on both sides of most political debates that our country is doomed and the only way to regain our former glory is to fight over issues like gay marriage and a woman's right to choose. I'm simplifying here of course but for fuck's sake I thought we were all equal in this country. How is it that some groups are more equal than others? I hope that most people who are religious don't think the way that the politicians and pundits on TV seem to believe, but this is making me nervous. Please tell me that social conservatism isn't as widespread and prolific as it appears to be. I can't get my head around that concept. Who the fuck do you think you are if you think you can impose your beliefs on others? Is that what your god would have wanted? I thought it was all about loving each other for who we are? Or was that just a bunch of hippy bullshit?
If you do think that way, then I'm pretty sure by oppressing your fellow human beings by imposing your archaic religious dogma on them is a one-way ticket to hell. Luckily for you though, it's all made up. But for reals, get religion out of politics and let's fix some goddamn potholes.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Consuming The Content
I had atopic I wanted to talk about (religion) but I'm not sure how to approach the subject at the moment. I'm gonna have to toss that one around a little bit more in me lil' noggin. I don't want to come off as flippant on the subject (as I am aware I have been in the past). Just...well, whatever. I have to think about it some more and then I'll put those dumb thoughts up here and stuff like that there. Wow. A new vocabulary low point.
I also am having difficulty getting this song out of my head. Not sure why it sticks in there but I think it has something to do with her haunting voice. I need to do another hunt for new music soon cuz I'm currently skipping most of the songs that come up on my iPod. That means I have to go to sites like The Noise, AllMusic, Ryan's Smashing Life, HipHopDX, AllHipHop, and Pitchfork. Ugh. Seems like a lot of work. So lazy...I think I need a nap. Wanna snuggle?
I know I've talked about the other site that I contribute to (called Seriously Awesome Monsters) but I'm sad to say that it seems to have run its course. That's not to say it is dead, it's just slow at the moment (the last post was before Christmas and features a funfunsuperwaycool drawing by the lovely Crispin Wood). We used to post several times a week but people got busy and other things became more important (you know, like doing actual work that pays money). I'd like to have more stuff to put up there but I'm not sure what that will be at the moment. By the by, if you want to contribute a drawing (for free...sorry, we have no money) for the website, please email me and I'll get it up on the interwebs. You'll be totally famous and feel like you do when you discover some cash in an old jacket that was in your closet. No pressure though. BUT GO MAKE A DRAWING NOW!!
I think I'm going to dump Netflix. We got rid of the DVD part awhile ago and had just the streaming plan using the PS3 as the source device. But honestly I can't think of the last time I used the service. The streaming options kinda stink and now that the company is losing contracts with major distributors, I'm not very optimistic that the future for Netflix looks to improve. Plus, I'm a cheapskate and I'd rather not pay $8 per month for something I'm not actually enjoying. Sounds like I just decided to cancel my account. Yes. Yes it does. OooooOOooh! Maybe I'll get Apple TV or Roku! Time to do some RESEARCH (love love love me some research)!
Let's talk about things I like shall we? Sure, why not? Podcasts. I listen to a plethora (oh shit!) of them and it seems they are all mainly comedy-related. What do I listen to? WELLHOLYSHITHEREISALIST!! EXPLOSIONS!!
There are others that I occasionally check out (like the NPR Planet Money and All Songs Considered) but these are the ones that I actually listen to on a regular basis.
I also am having difficulty getting this song out of my head. Not sure why it sticks in there but I think it has something to do with her haunting voice. I need to do another hunt for new music soon cuz I'm currently skipping most of the songs that come up on my iPod. That means I have to go to sites like The Noise, AllMusic, Ryan's Smashing Life, HipHopDX, AllHipHop, and Pitchfork. Ugh. Seems like a lot of work. So lazy...I think I need a nap. Wanna snuggle?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Lunchtime All Up In My Face
Today I did not bring my lunch to work so that means it's time to decide OMGWHATISFORLUNCHTIMESUPERFUNTOWN? I have many options to choose from so now I must spend a little time deciding what I want to eat.
Do I want to go to Café Fail, the barely adequate cafeteria here at the office? No. A thousand times no. Yes, it is super convenient but Holy Hanna is it mediocre at best. They can't even scoop a melon properly. Don't dig so hard that you get little chunks of rind on my honeydew bits goddammit. So, that's out of the equation. Pizza? Subs? Nah. That's boring. What about Flour? Ooooohhh Flour! I could totally go for a sammich that takes 20 minutes to make while hipsters mill around and judge me. Or not. I do like their food though. What about Indian? HOLYSHITINDIANFOODRULES. Hmm, there's Shalimar, or that other place who's name escapes me right now. Nah. Not feeling it. Thai? Hmm, closer...even closer...I could go for some weirdo tofu-based apps. What about Zuzu? Mmmmm...they usually have lots of yummies available. But that's not what I'm lookin' for. Burrito-time? AWESOMETOWNBURRITOFUNHAPPYFACE! Hmm, burritos are glorious wonderfulness but I don't think I can handle the sheer bulk of one at this time. Although, burritos can stand up on their own. It's true. Just place one on it's end and it will sit there patiently waiting for you to stuff it into your mouth. Sadfacecannotdecidedilemmavillage.
OMG. omgomgomgomgomgomg I know what I want. I WANT MARY CHUNG! IWANTCRABRAGOONSANDDUMPLINGSANDHOLYSHITGIVEITTOMEIWILLEATITALL!! I will write an awesome song about going to Mary Chung's to get dumplings! I will sing the song on the way to Mary Chung's. I will eat all the food. I will watch as the ancient man paces from one end of the restaurant to the other over and over again. I will read all the specials scotch taped to the receptionists desk thing. I will listen to MIT professors talk about string theory while shoving won-tons into their faces. I will revel in slurping my soup. I will get only appetizers and it will be FANTASTIC! I will get everything and it will somehow still only cost me $13. I will ingest ridiculous amounts of salt. I will drink all the tea. I will marvel at the spicy dipping sauce. I will perm my hair like a 50-year-old asian woman. I will build a small fort out of egg rolls and scallion pancakes. I will live in Mary Chung's ceiling and blast farts into the heating ducts. I will replace the fortunes in the cookies with excerpts from my manifesto There will be a shortage of Moo Shi. My ankles will swell and I WILL NOT CARE!! HOLYSHITICANNOTWAITTOGO!!
(Update of sorts) Ok, I'm back. I decided to not set up residence after all. I'm feeling rather bloaty and slightly ill. Dumbfattybad. The food was SuperAwesomeTownHIGHFIVE (the name of my band by the way) as expected but my stupid body got all full before I could consume everything in sight. The walk back from the restaurant in the rain made me slightly sadfaced because I was not prepared to be rained on. Walking in the rain with eyeglasses sucks. Ugh. I'm soooooooo full. I feel totally marychunged. Yes, it IS a verb. Why did you let me do that to myself? What is wrong with you people? You KNOW I have no governors. Where is the love?
Perhaps I should have just gotten a salad and some water. I'm totally going back there in a couple weeks.
Do I want to go to Café Fail, the barely adequate cafeteria here at the office? No. A thousand times no. Yes, it is super convenient but Holy Hanna is it mediocre at best. They can't even scoop a melon properly. Don't dig so hard that you get little chunks of rind on my honeydew bits goddammit. So, that's out of the equation. Pizza? Subs? Nah. That's boring. What about Flour? Ooooohhh Flour! I could totally go for a sammich that takes 20 minutes to make while hipsters mill around and judge me. Or not. I do like their food though. What about Indian? HOLYSHITINDIANFOODRULES. Hmm, there's Shalimar, or that other place who's name escapes me right now. Nah. Not feeling it. Thai? Hmm, closer...even closer...I could go for some weirdo tofu-based apps. What about Zuzu? Mmmmm...they usually have lots of yummies available. But that's not what I'm lookin' for. Burrito-time? AWESOMETOWNBURRITOFUNHAPPYFACE! Hmm, burritos are glorious wonderfulness but I don't think I can handle the sheer bulk of one at this time. Although, burritos can stand up on their own. It's true. Just place one on it's end and it will sit there patiently waiting for you to stuff it into your mouth. Sadfacecannotdecidedilemmavillage.
OMG. omgomgomgomgomgomg I know what I want. I WANT MARY CHUNG! IWANTCRABRAGOONSANDDUMPLINGSANDHOLYSHITGIVEITTOMEIWILLEATITALL!! I will write an awesome song about going to Mary Chung's to get dumplings! I will sing the song on the way to Mary Chung's. I will eat all the food. I will watch as the ancient man paces from one end of the restaurant to the other over and over again. I will read all the specials scotch taped to the receptionists desk thing. I will listen to MIT professors talk about string theory while shoving won-tons into their faces. I will revel in slurping my soup. I will get only appetizers and it will be FANTASTIC! I will get everything and it will somehow still only cost me $13. I will ingest ridiculous amounts of salt. I will drink all the tea. I will marvel at the spicy dipping sauce. I will perm my hair like a 50-year-old asian woman. I will build a small fort out of egg rolls and scallion pancakes. I will live in Mary Chung's ceiling and blast farts into the heating ducts. I will replace the fortunes in the cookies with excerpts from my manifesto There will be a shortage of Moo Shi. My ankles will swell and I WILL NOT CARE!! HOLYSHITICANNOTWAITTOGO!!
(Update of sorts) Ok, I'm back. I decided to not set up residence after all. I'm feeling rather bloaty and slightly ill. Dumbfattybad. The food was SuperAwesomeTownHIGHFIVE (the name of my band by the way) as expected but my stupid body got all full before I could consume everything in sight. The walk back from the restaurant in the rain made me slightly sadfaced because I was not prepared to be rained on. Walking in the rain with eyeglasses sucks. Ugh. I'm soooooooo full. I feel totally marychunged. Yes, it IS a verb. Why did you let me do that to myself? What is wrong with you people? You KNOW I have no governors. Where is the love?
Perhaps I should have just gotten a salad and some water. I'm totally going back there in a couple weeks.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Happy Little Clouds
Previously on Ow Ow Ow Quit It Ow Ow Ow, I was in a drug-induced stupor and was feeling better. Then the holidays hit and I spiraled right back into the Valley of Ouchies (amazing what a little family get-together can do to bring on tension in me). So what's a boy to do? Go to an acupuncturist of course.
I had never been to one before (read: I'm from Malden) and so I didn't have any idea of what to expect. I wasn't even sure if I bought in to the whole premise. I knew I was coming from a place where my initial thoughts about acupuncture were that it is new-age bullshit bordering on quackery. I know this is wrong since this practice has been around for centuries and it must have some validity. Let's open ourselves up for a new experience ok? Ok. The Wiff said that I should first try a "community session" which I can now see is self-explanatory but at the time I had no idea that it meant "sit in a big room with other people with needles in your face". That was not the best approach as it turns out. I loathe people so why the hell would she think sitting in a room with them would be relaxing? Silly lady.
I scheduled a private session with the therapist dude for the following Tuesday night and reminded myself to have an open mind fer chrissakes. That night I made my way over to the studio (that's a problem right there for me for some reason. I'd feel better about this if they would call it an "office" or a "practice" or something more clinical like that. Damn hippies...No Mark! No! Open YOUR MIND damn you! Feel your chakras!) and my arm had been tweaking all day long, probably in anticipation of this very moment I guessed. I walked in and made my way over to the receptionist area. The guy behind the desk confirmed my appointment and then proceeded to get all chatty with me. Look, I'm sending out very clear DO NOT ENGAGE vibes here (and shouldn't he be more in-tuned with vibes and shit like that anyway?), so I'd appreciate it if you'd shut your face and allow me to sit here in this silly place and wait for my turn. Please? No? Oh ok. He went on and on about how he's just moved back after being away for a while and how everything in the studio (there's that word again) has changed. Oh, and it's weird because this piece of equipment never works when he's around. Is it cold out? (Yes. Yes it is. It's fucking January in New England. It tends to get a bit brisk). He rambled for what felt like 15 minutes (most likely 3-5 minutes) and I gave polite-ish monosyllabic responses at the socially accepted intervals while begging him in my head to please shut the fuck up.
Finally the receptionist guy shut his face and the therapist dude came out to let me know he would be just a few more minutes. Yea, I get it. You're busy. So am I. We have an appointment and I'm here on goddamn time. Step it up, Jimmy. Can you see that I may not have been in the right mindset for this? Yea. A couple minutes later he comes back out and has me follow him to one of the rooms. We chat for a little bit about what exactly I'm expecting from this (he's really soft spoken and reminds me of Bob Ross without the giant fuzzy 'fro). His whisper voice annoyed me and I had to make sure I didn't let it totally mess up my session. He talked about what he was going to be doing and his approach to this therapy and I was starting to dig the more clinical assessment of the procedure. Let's do this Bob. He says, "Ok, take your shirt off and lie face down please." Right away I'm instantly tense again. Look, it's not his fault right? He has to get to the skin and stuff right? But as a fat guy, taking my shirt off is never a comfortable thing. I hate the way I look, ok? Sure, I'm working on it but goddamn. Fine, shirt off it is. Now I'm super tense and sweaty. I hope you're happy with yourself sir.
I lie down on the table with my head in that loop thing on the end, arms down by my sides and right away my arm starts tweaking like mad. I told the guy about it and he was like "Oh, ok. Maybe we can adjust this here and then let me know..." all in his whispery voice. Ugh. Stop it. Stop the whisper talk. Let's just do the thing with the needles or whatever ok? So I'm lying on my stomach with my face in the yolk doodad, staring at the floor with my left eye because my right eye is smooshed in the faceloop (I tried adjusting but it was either left eye can see, right eye smooshed; the reverse of that; or both eyes smooshed with light sparkling on my eyelids. I chose the left eye to have first watch), and he starts poking at my back in and around my left shoulder blade. First thing I notice is that his hands are SUPER WARM. Like unnaturally so. Is this his normal body temperature? Am I just cold? Did he microwave his hands for 10 seconds? Is he Mr. Miyagi?
He starts a little massage thing and then he takes the needles out and starts putting them in the different locations. Then he sat down on this little wheeled chair thing and he rolled over to the left side of my head. He then started putting needles in my ear and neck area. Now this is supposed to be relaxing right? But the whole time he's doing this, the thought that's in my head was: "Wow, his balls sure are close to my face." I know. I KNOW. I'm clearly not taking this seriously. I started to giggle to myself a little. "Yea, they're like right there and he could be tea-bagging me right now and I wouldn't necessarily know the difference." I mentally shook myself out of that thought and told myself to CONCENTRATE on not thinking. Stop it you 15-year-old dummy. I let the mind wander and I was starting to relax again. Then he wanted to chat with me. "So, uh, how was your Christmas? You have a good New Year?" Seriously? Ok, I understand you're in a room with a client with his shirt off and your balls are near his face and maybe it feels awkward for you (it certainly feels awkward for me) but right now? I'm trying to clear my headspace or whatever you call it so that I can actually benefit from this and I really, REALLY don't want to talk. I didn't know how to tell him this though. I didn't know how to say "sshhhhhhh" without sounding like a dickbag. So I answered his questions. Of course I did. And I over shared and gave long rambling answers and holy shit why can't I just stop talking? I either don't talk at all or I over share. I have issues ok?
After a while he said, "Ok, that's all I want to do right now so I'm going to leave you for about 20 minutes is that ok?" Yeah, dude I guess...I mean, I dunno. This is your deal, not mine. Go do whatever. "Can you feel those at all?" Yeah, I can. There's fucking needles in my skin. Yes, I can feel them. And it's not like they hurt or anything but you know they are there. He leaves and closes the door to the room and I'm lying there face down, trying to relax. And my arm was kinda calming down cuz it's used to the position. During the community session that The Wiff conned me into, they had this Enya style music playing that featured this flute that kept hitting these notes that just drilled into my spine, carved out a nest, and proceeded to poke me in the nerve endings. It was the opposite of background music. This time there was no music but a faint sound of what was either a wave machine or a broken fan on the air handler of the heating system. For realz it was preferable.
The room that I was in was up near the front of the building and I don't know if they have a shitty sub-floor or if it's a just a super squeaky area but EVERY time someone walked by the room I was like "oh! Is this 20 minutes? Has it been 20 minutes yet? Is this now 20 minutes? Is he going to open the door now? How about now? Is this him? Who was that? Was that him? What happens next? I don't know what happens next". Basically every time I heard someone walk by (which was A LOT by the way) it snapped me out of my relaxed, peaceful state and slammed me right back into my normal slightly edgy state. He did eventually come back and proceeded to take the needles out. By this time his hands were frickin' freezing. WTF dude? Are you just fucking with me now? He then did a little acupressure for a bit on my left side and then he said "Ok, you can get dressed now and I'll meet you out front." Can do mister.
I got dressed (he had me take my shoes and socks off too but never once touched my feetsies so I'm guessing it's just a thing they do? I dunno) and made my way back up front. He was waiting for me at the reception desk and asked me how I was feeling. I was honest about it and said I wasn't really sure. I said that I don't think I got much out of this particular session but that's all on me not him. I didn't think that just one session was going to be the answer. We agreed to set up another session for the following week and I went back last Tuesday (the 10th) and it went much smoother. Now that I knew what to expect out of the actual session itself I was more able to relax and just let him do his work. Plus, and this is a BIG plus for me; he put me in a room that was further back than the previous one. This all but eliminated the foot traffic outside the door. He also turned the lights off this time (something he did not do before) when he left me alone and I very nearly fell asleep. It was an all-around better experience than the first.
Today at work there was an open session with the on-site massage lady (she comes every month I guess) and I was able to book some time with her. It was lovely and I feel quite sleepy now.
I had never been to one before (read: I'm from Malden) and so I didn't have any idea of what to expect. I wasn't even sure if I bought in to the whole premise. I knew I was coming from a place where my initial thoughts about acupuncture were that it is new-age bullshit bordering on quackery. I know this is wrong since this practice has been around for centuries and it must have some validity. Let's open ourselves up for a new experience ok? Ok. The Wiff said that I should first try a "community session" which I can now see is self-explanatory but at the time I had no idea that it meant "sit in a big room with other people with needles in your face". That was not the best approach as it turns out. I loathe people so why the hell would she think sitting in a room with them would be relaxing? Silly lady.
I scheduled a private session with the therapist dude for the following Tuesday night and reminded myself to have an open mind fer chrissakes. That night I made my way over to the studio (that's a problem right there for me for some reason. I'd feel better about this if they would call it an "office" or a "practice" or something more clinical like that. Damn hippies...No Mark! No! Open YOUR MIND damn you! Feel your chakras!) and my arm had been tweaking all day long, probably in anticipation of this very moment I guessed. I walked in and made my way over to the receptionist area. The guy behind the desk confirmed my appointment and then proceeded to get all chatty with me. Look, I'm sending out very clear DO NOT ENGAGE vibes here (and shouldn't he be more in-tuned with vibes and shit like that anyway?), so I'd appreciate it if you'd shut your face and allow me to sit here in this silly place and wait for my turn. Please? No? Oh ok. He went on and on about how he's just moved back after being away for a while and how everything in the studio (there's that word again) has changed. Oh, and it's weird because this piece of equipment never works when he's around. Is it cold out? (Yes. Yes it is. It's fucking January in New England. It tends to get a bit brisk). He rambled for what felt like 15 minutes (most likely 3-5 minutes) and I gave polite-ish monosyllabic responses at the socially accepted intervals while begging him in my head to please shut the fuck up.
Finally the receptionist guy shut his face and the therapist dude came out to let me know he would be just a few more minutes. Yea, I get it. You're busy. So am I. We have an appointment and I'm here on goddamn time. Step it up, Jimmy. Can you see that I may not have been in the right mindset for this? Yea. A couple minutes later he comes back out and has me follow him to one of the rooms. We chat for a little bit about what exactly I'm expecting from this (he's really soft spoken and reminds me of Bob Ross without the giant fuzzy 'fro). His whisper voice annoyed me and I had to make sure I didn't let it totally mess up my session. He talked about what he was going to be doing and his approach to this therapy and I was starting to dig the more clinical assessment of the procedure. Let's do this Bob. He says, "Ok, take your shirt off and lie face down please." Right away I'm instantly tense again. Look, it's not his fault right? He has to get to the skin and stuff right? But as a fat guy, taking my shirt off is never a comfortable thing. I hate the way I look, ok? Sure, I'm working on it but goddamn. Fine, shirt off it is. Now I'm super tense and sweaty. I hope you're happy with yourself sir.
I lie down on the table with my head in that loop thing on the end, arms down by my sides and right away my arm starts tweaking like mad. I told the guy about it and he was like "Oh, ok. Maybe we can adjust this here and then let me know..." all in his whispery voice. Ugh. Stop it. Stop the whisper talk. Let's just do the thing with the needles or whatever ok? So I'm lying on my stomach with my face in the yolk doodad, staring at the floor with my left eye because my right eye is smooshed in the faceloop (I tried adjusting but it was either left eye can see, right eye smooshed; the reverse of that; or both eyes smooshed with light sparkling on my eyelids. I chose the left eye to have first watch), and he starts poking at my back in and around my left shoulder blade. First thing I notice is that his hands are SUPER WARM. Like unnaturally so. Is this his normal body temperature? Am I just cold? Did he microwave his hands for 10 seconds? Is he Mr. Miyagi?
He starts a little massage thing and then he takes the needles out and starts putting them in the different locations. Then he sat down on this little wheeled chair thing and he rolled over to the left side of my head. He then started putting needles in my ear and neck area. Now this is supposed to be relaxing right? But the whole time he's doing this, the thought that's in my head was: "Wow, his balls sure are close to my face." I know. I KNOW. I'm clearly not taking this seriously. I started to giggle to myself a little. "Yea, they're like right there and he could be tea-bagging me right now and I wouldn't necessarily know the difference." I mentally shook myself out of that thought and told myself to CONCENTRATE on not thinking. Stop it you 15-year-old dummy. I let the mind wander and I was starting to relax again. Then he wanted to chat with me. "So, uh, how was your Christmas? You have a good New Year?" Seriously? Ok, I understand you're in a room with a client with his shirt off and your balls are near his face and maybe it feels awkward for you (it certainly feels awkward for me) but right now? I'm trying to clear my headspace or whatever you call it so that I can actually benefit from this and I really, REALLY don't want to talk. I didn't know how to tell him this though. I didn't know how to say "sshhhhhhh" without sounding like a dickbag. So I answered his questions. Of course I did. And I over shared and gave long rambling answers and holy shit why can't I just stop talking? I either don't talk at all or I over share. I have issues ok?
After a while he said, "Ok, that's all I want to do right now so I'm going to leave you for about 20 minutes is that ok?" Yeah, dude I guess...I mean, I dunno. This is your deal, not mine. Go do whatever. "Can you feel those at all?" Yeah, I can. There's fucking needles in my skin. Yes, I can feel them. And it's not like they hurt or anything but you know they are there. He leaves and closes the door to the room and I'm lying there face down, trying to relax. And my arm was kinda calming down cuz it's used to the position. During the community session that The Wiff conned me into, they had this Enya style music playing that featured this flute that kept hitting these notes that just drilled into my spine, carved out a nest, and proceeded to poke me in the nerve endings. It was the opposite of background music. This time there was no music but a faint sound of what was either a wave machine or a broken fan on the air handler of the heating system. For realz it was preferable.
The room that I was in was up near the front of the building and I don't know if they have a shitty sub-floor or if it's a just a super squeaky area but EVERY time someone walked by the room I was like "oh! Is this 20 minutes? Has it been 20 minutes yet? Is this now 20 minutes? Is he going to open the door now? How about now? Is this him? Who was that? Was that him? What happens next? I don't know what happens next". Basically every time I heard someone walk by (which was A LOT by the way) it snapped me out of my relaxed, peaceful state and slammed me right back into my normal slightly edgy state. He did eventually come back and proceeded to take the needles out. By this time his hands were frickin' freezing. WTF dude? Are you just fucking with me now? He then did a little acupressure for a bit on my left side and then he said "Ok, you can get dressed now and I'll meet you out front." Can do mister.
I got dressed (he had me take my shoes and socks off too but never once touched my feetsies so I'm guessing it's just a thing they do? I dunno) and made my way back up front. He was waiting for me at the reception desk and asked me how I was feeling. I was honest about it and said I wasn't really sure. I said that I don't think I got much out of this particular session but that's all on me not him. I didn't think that just one session was going to be the answer. We agreed to set up another session for the following week and I went back last Tuesday (the 10th) and it went much smoother. Now that I knew what to expect out of the actual session itself I was more able to relax and just let him do his work. Plus, and this is a BIG plus for me; he put me in a room that was further back than the previous one. This all but eliminated the foot traffic outside the door. He also turned the lights off this time (something he did not do before) when he left me alone and I very nearly fell asleep. It was an all-around better experience than the first.
Today at work there was an open session with the on-site massage lady (she comes every month I guess) and I was able to book some time with her. It was lovely and I feel quite sleepy now.
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