Multiple Sclerosis and Me: 5 Things I've learned about MS - Part XXIX

5) Typically, we associate grief with the death of a loved one, but MS related grief stems from two sources: loss (of ability like walking, balance, vision) and vulnerability (lack of control).
4) There are Five Stages of Grief proposed by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross:

• Denial
• Anger
• Bargaining
• Depression
• Acceptance

These stages aren't fixed, and people experience some, none, or all of the stages differently.
3)

2) The MS grieving process can start with diagnosis but may need to be revisited when new MS symptoms arise or when relapses are experienced.
1)

Multiple Sclerosis and Me: 5 Things I've learned about MS - Part XXVIII

5)

4)

3) With summer heat bearing down like a Horseman of the Apocalypse on my fellow MS warriors and I, it's crucial to have a summer heat strategy in place.   
2) One of many poignant TEDx Talks featuring MS: Thriving in The Face of Adversity.

1) And did I hear you say he was a-meeting you here today To take you to his mansion in the sky?

Everything I Know Is Ridiculous - Part XXXIV

5) A 2011 article by CNN explains why some people actually hate their birthdays.

4) Human saliva has a boiling point three times that of regular water. Now my tea will never be ready...
3) I know what Bo don't know. Ch-ch-chang chang.

2) There's a Wikipedia page containing a comprehensive list of practical jokes, pranks, gags, and shenanigans. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to pick up some verbal agreement forms for work.
1) Before my diagnosis, I called D.C. home for just under a decade. That sketchy, sweltering, swampland saw me through four marathons, five law firms, an undetermined number of men, bipolar and finally MS. But I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind.

Everything I Know Is Ridiculous - Part XXXIII

5) The Specious Present is the time duration wherein one's perceptions are considered to be in the present. The sense of time differs from other senses since time cannot be directly perceived but must be reconstructed by the brain. Other explanations include:

4) Currently unsolved or open problems and conjectures exist in various fields including neuroscience, linguistics, and philosophy. We really do have 99 problems.
3) In 1941, Danish physicist Niels Bohr and German physicist Werner Heisenberg met in Copenhagen to discuss the emerging role of scientists in the development of atomic weapons. The specifics of the meeting has been the subject of great speculation, notably Michael Frayn's 1998 play Copenhagen.

2) It's not that Japan was asking for all those Godzilla attacks, I'm just saying, it doesn't seem to be that much of a problem for other countries.
1)

That's Great! It Starts With An Earthquake

What if Michael Stipe was onto something?

Typically my study of the bible involves skimming the water-to-wine story while waiting for the scotch to kick in, but following my recent diagnosis of multiple sclerosis, it was time to flip to the back of this thousand-page paperweight and see how the story ends.

Revelations won't be seen on the New York Times Bestsellers Book List. Compared to the rest of the New Testament, it's a real downer. A lot fewer McFish sandwich miracles, a lot more multi-headed beasts. 

Much of Revelations reads like an exaggerated bar story. Like the Apostles were hanging out one night and John had a little too much tirosh. "Wait, wait guys so I was sayin' this beast has these five - no seven - seven heads! An' ten horns, like at least ten horns!" 

Thomas is rolling his eyes and Matthew is pissed off because he always ends up being the DD, "Goddammit John, that beast has more heads every time you tell the story. What's up, you said you could hang!"

Now personally, I find it a little inconsistent that after twenty-six books featuring the sort of easy-going, son-giving, non-vengeful God you feel like you could have a real future with...he decides to smite the shit out of us after all.

Talk about a misleading Match profile:

Yahweh
seeking women 25-39
within 20 miles of the Mountain of Zion
Have kids: Yes, they sometimes live at home (1)
Faith: Spiritual but not religious
Interests: Loving mankind, forgiving their sins
Drink: Social Drinker

The Pineapple People

The Fruit were restless. The Apples were anxious. The Cantaloupes were concerned. The Bananas were bothered. The Peaches were prickly.

The Pineapple People were coming…

The news had come through the Grapevine. No one knew anything about the Pineapple People, or why they were coming, or what they might want.

“We hear they’re 20 feet tall,” said the Oranges.

“We hear they speak a strange language,” said the Pears.

“We hear they eat other fruit!” said the Apricots.

“Friends,” the Coconuts cooed. “The Pineapple People are coming. But there is nothing to fear. They will not hurt our Colony or bring harm to our grove.” 

The Coconuts were the oldest of all the fruit. Clever and honest and wise! So many of the fruit listened. 

The Kiwis, who were very deep thinkers, decided they would welcome the Pineapple People to the grove.

“Maybe,” the Kiwis thought, “if they seem strange to us, we may seem strange to them. Maybe, our whole grove is very different than where they are from.” So the Kiwis gathered fresh water, green grasses, and all the things that fruits enjoy as gifts to make the Pineapple People feel at home.

The Lemons and the Limes — who despite their sour tastes, had very sweet natures — said “We are nervous and uncertain about these Pineapple People, but will kindly offer our friendship.”

The Apples and Grapes, who were very cautious fruit — it was said this was because their skins were so thin and delicate — said “We will keep a distance. We must know why they have come to the Grove and what they will do here.”

The Peaches, however, who were very frosty fruit, said, “These Pineapple People are no friends of ours! We will be bossy and boorish and mean-spirited so they know they are unwanted in our Colony!”

It was whispered among the Grove, that the Peaches were such unhappy Fruit because their heavy seeds were hard to carry around all day.

So the Fruit set off, each with their own plans for the Pineapple People. The Coconuts watched the Colony prepare. They knew that this was not the first time the Pineapple People had come to the Grove…but they did not tell this to the rest of the Colony.

Soon the Pineapple People arrived. The way they looked and talked was very different. The Melons admitted they liked the sing-song sound of their words. But they were gentle and kind. And smart! While the Colony had prepared for the Pineapple People, the Pineapple People were more prepared for them. They brought gifts to share, like rich pollens and oily waxes, and bright flowers, and morning dewdrops.

The Pineapple People stayed for many days. In the mornings, they helped the Fruit care for the trees and taught them new ways to nurture their leaves. They spoke with the Coconuts on more serious matters like pollens and bees and water levels. But in the evenings, they would sing, and dance, and share stories late into the night.

Soon, it was clear to all the fruit that the Pineapple People were no danger to the Colony. And the Fruit, who had been so worried about the Pineapple People coming, began to worry about the time when they would leave.

Too soon, that day did come.

“Goodbye!” said the Oranges.

“Safe travels!” cried the Pears.

“We will never forget you!” sniffed the Apricots.

And then, as quickly as they came, they were gone.

Not long after, the Kiwis went to talk to the Coconuts.

“Friends,” the Kiwis began, “the Colony has been different since the Pineapple People left. We use their waxes, and now our skins are very sleek and healthy. We care for the trees as they taught and now the leaves are very strong and green. We sing and share stories and dance at night and now the Colony is very happy and friendly. We think the Pineapple People came to help us all along.”

The Coconuts looked down on the young Kiwis with pride.

“Little ones, you are indeed very deep thinkers. That was why the Pineapple People were here. Long, long ago, our Colony was very sick. There wasn’t enough pollens or water and the fruit families did not know what to do. But one lone Grape said she knew who might help us. That was when the Pineapple People first came to this very Grove and saved our Colony. They planted new trees and gave us fresh water. And they said they would always be back to check on us.”

“But why not tell the other fruit?” the sharp Kiwis asked.

“Sometimes small ones, a healthy seed springs no matter the soil. Do you think that the next time a visitor comes to the grove, everyone will act more kindly to them?”

The Kiwis thought for a moment then nodded, “Even the Peaches.”

The Coconuts were satisfied and sent the Kiwis down to join the rest of the Colony who were dancing and singing under the stars.

The End

Sharks and Sheep

Ever since college where we learned fundamental life skills like living away from home, choosing a non-Liberal Arts major, and how to shotgun a beer, I'd resigned myself to the notion that the English major's lot in life was to see the nuance and beauty in an otherwise mechanical, left-brained world, and not perhaps drive economic trends, truly understand what a hedge fund is, or say things like: "Divide my assets between my 401k and my Roth IRA," or "We don't need to find a different ATM. My balance is high enough to cover the foreign ATM fee."

And I was okay with that. Truly fine with the notion that what I lacked in capital, I made up for in my ability to shotgun a beer. Certain that society needed both sharks and sheep. Career-driven capitalist every bit as much as hippy humanitarians. The "Type-A" predators with their smart, aggressive life and career decisions, and those of us content to bumble through job and relationship choices with all the calculating ruthlessness of a nurse shark.

But then the universe, who'd always been up for shotgunning a beer with me, handed this sheep a series of personal, professional, and medical misfortune.

Anyone who's experienced any type of adversity wants to feel there's a deeper meaning behind it all. Like a Super Mario Brothers game where of course it's hard to get through the Mushroom Kingdom but you can take pride in your collection of coins, Fire Flowers, and ultimately saving Princess Toadstool.

But sometimes it seems like the empathy, altruism, and social awareness I've accumulated from my hardships have the real world worth of Fire Flowers. And, at times, that can be difficult to reconcile. Like a t-shirt that reads, "I've Been To Hell And All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt".

But unlike sharks, that's when sheep [who are very deep thinkers, no citation] remember that there's significance in both our failures and our triumphs. How are we certain? There has to be.

“If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning" ~C.S. Lewis

Multiple Sclerosis and Me: 5 Things I've learned about MS - Part XXVII

5)

4) There are approximately 400,000 people in the United States with MS. Of that number around 8,000 to 10,000 are children or adolescents.
3) Each week, more than 200 people are diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in the United States. The estimated lifetime cost of this disease is 4.1 million (in 2010 dollars). To me, this constitutes a MS epidemic and until a cure is found we must exhaust our political networks, diagnostic resources, and funding.
2)

1)

False Flag

I love conspiracy theories. And I'm not alone. Be it the Lindbergh baby, the Apollo 11 moon landing, or the theory that Breyers engineered Birthday Cake Ice Cream just to make me fat, certain events throughout history have conspiracy theorists convinced that the general public isn't being told the full story.

The concept of conspiracy theories has evolved throughout history. It wasn't always the modern notion of wild-eyed nutters holed up in basements with heads wrapped in tinfoil. Historically, False Flags, such as the Trojan Horse, a deceptive peace offering used during the Trojan War which allowed the Greeks to enter the city of Troy, were viewed as legitimate tales of caution against taking events at face value.

But experience has taught us that not every horse is filled with an army of Greek soldiers. So what exactly causes conspiracy theories to develop in the first place?

As a self-proclaimed conspiracy theorist, I've found that particular incidents, due to their extremity, their shocking nature, or their sprinkle-filled deliciousness, trigger our spidey-sense. Once stimulated, people are anxious for a resolution be it Ancient Aliens, a hidden Illuminati agenda, or a government cover-up.


I've compiled three of my favorite ominous occasions and researched the most compelling evidence for, and the strongest rebuttals against, these respective conspiracies.

1) Apollo 11 Moon Landing

The smoking gun: From the "C" rock, to the lack of space stars, to moon dust, a faked moon landing is like conspiracy theory Viagra. But it is interesting how the backgrounds in certain photos are so similar they're nearly identical; as though NASA used, or forgot to change, the same backdrops while shooting different photographs.

Time for your meds: NASA has an overall solid case against the faux moon landing conspiracy. It's almost like there's a bunch of scientists over there. But it's film expert S.G. Collins whose knowledge about the technical capacities of filming in the late sixties, who makes the conspiracy-dispelling statement that it would have been easier to actually go to the moon than to fake it on video.

2) 9/11

The smoking gun: Your 9/11 conspiracy needs can be satisfied by the film Loose Change.

Conspiracy theorist strongest, but least cited, argument are the overwhelming number of put options placed on United and American Airlines stocks just days prior to September 11. The mathematical odds that this event would occur randomly and independently of the 9/11 attack are so low they statistically don't exist.

Time for your meds: Debunking the 9/11 conspiracies has become as popular as creating them. For me, the collapse of the Twin Towers, free from explosives or a controlled demolition proves that this horrible event wasn't internally manufactured.

3) Paul is Dead

The smoking gun: It would be easy to dismiss the theory that Paul McCartney secretly died in 1966 and was replaced by a look alike as the creative but insane result of the vast amounts of psychotropic drugs consumed in the sixties, if not for Gabriella Carlesi. In 2008, the Italian forensic pathologist specializing in the identification of people through craniometry, or the comparison of skull features, analysed images of Paul McCartney before and after 1966 and found they did not match.

Time for your meds: Debunking Paul is dead for Dummies breaks this theory down piece by silly piece. In my opinion, the most compelling evidence against this conspiracy is that there's simply no reason for it. It's a conspiracy as unnecessary as Ringo.

Everything I Know Is Ridiculous - Part XXXII

5) Are you able to call a poker bluff? This test reveals that reading people is far more difficult than we assume.
4) You can't triple stamp a double stamp. 
3) Ron DiFrancesco was the last person to make it out of the South Tower of the World Trade Center before it collapsed on September 11, 2001. One of only four people to escape from above the eighty-first floor, DiFrancesco described feeling a presence that guided him through the fire and smoke consumed stairwells.
2) Exhibiting even one of these 29 Life Signs means that things in your life are going far better than you think. Have you made the best of a tough situation? Overcome the judgment of others (or yourself)? Gone out of your way to help another? Then don't worry Rock Star, it turns out you're killing it.
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Everything I Know Is Ridiculous - Part XXXI

5) "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear"  ~C.S. Lewis
4) The 1908 Tunguska event is generally agreed to have been caused by the air burst of a large meteoroid but other explanations include time travel, alien attack, and the testing of Nikoli Tesla's Death Ray.
3) Your Life Path Number is determined by your date of birth and purportedly reveals a person's nature, talents and true calling. Like Alec Baldwin, Alfred Hitchcock and Fidel Castro, I'm a 3.
2)

1) What's the right amount of pie to eat when you wake up in the middle of the night in the mood for a midnight snack? All the pie.

L_VE

I once friend-zoned a guy because his eyes pointed in slightly different directions. Otherwise, he was a perfectly viable candidate: college-educated, well-spoken, decent-looking. But his eyes veered just the tiniest bit away from each other. Like maybe they were having a fight, like one of them had borrowed the others car and didn't refill the tank or told a mildly racist joke at a work function.

Wow, I got an earful from my girlfriends about that one. To hear them talk, you'd think I should've been grateful he even had eyes.

So my unresolved, interpersonal dysfunctions aside, the current national divorce rate still averages in at a heartwarming 40-50%. Let that statistic sink in the next time you find yourself at dinner party or neighborhood picnic. Almost every other couple is just a handful of misunderstandings away from a total amorous implosion.

A shame really, when nowadays, it seems like the path to everlasting romance is relativity obstacle-free. Star-crossed lovers no longer have to fear being separated by plague, famine, or Hun invasion. But in the calamity of our modern lives, we've grown cynical and closed off to the idea of true love or soul mates. Have we manufactured these self-imposed deal breakers to protect ourselves from contemporary threats like disappointment, emotional intimacy, and heart break?

But I'm taking a stand. Not a literal one, of course — I've had a lot of wine tonight — but a figurative acknowledgement that "happily-ever-after" does exist. Genuine, fairy tale, gooey, true romantic love is laying in wait, like my bookie when I'm late on a loan payment, for its moment to strike. If it wasn't, we'd have never suspected there was any alternative.

"Some say that true love is a mirage; seek it anyway, for all else is surely desert." ~Robert Brault

All my Dyslexics in the house say Ya-yeeeh!

It's incredibly common for dyslexics to second guess ourselves. How could we not? A substantial portion of our academic life was spent realizing — or being told — that our perception of a word, number, or sentence was wrong.

I'd always figured a college degree would be my dyslexic checkmate. We'd shake hands on graduation day and part on good terms. I'd look back that one last time and think "You know, I'm really going to miss that sumbitch."

I didn't anticipate it turning up outside the lecture halls and classrooms of my academic career. The realization that dyslexia had tagged along to adulthood felt profoundly unfair. If everyone else was able to outgrow their respective childhood Achilles heels, why couldn't I? Imagine discovering that, regardless of the field you went into, each work day began with rigorous game of dodge ball.

Those first post-graduation experiences felt like a series of awkward encounters with an ex. Heated and bitter. "What the hell are you doing here? I told you it was over!" But once I took stock of my situation, I realized I was armed with more resources than I realized: a supportive family, social and educational programs dedicated to shining a spotlight on this misunderstood disorder and student loans that would be due in six months whether this little existential crisis was resolved or not. It was time to accept that despite all the court ordered eviction notices, dyslexia wasn't going anywhere. It's simply a part of who I am.

Setting the dyslexic record straight:

Truth: Each dyslexic is different and dyslexia manifests itself in a multitude of ways

Myth: Dyslexics are stupid or slow. Most dyslexics are very bright, our brains simply process information differently

Myth: There is a dyslexic conspiracy

Truth: There are many famous people with the "gift of dyslexia"

Truth: Dyslexics are made of chocolate

Multiple Sclerosis and Me: 5 Things I've learned about MS - Part XXVI

5) Even hating MS takes the extra energy.

4) My next tattoo.

3) Approximately 80% of those with relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis will transition to secondary-progressive, a more disabling form of the disease.  
2)

1)

Your Single Girlfriend

With its dating follies, lowered standards, and that drunken 2:00am phone call to my ex-boyfriend, there’s a lot of things that aren't so great about being single.

But if dating is a battlefield, your Single Girlfriend is your Major Winters. A stylish symbol of sisterhood, she'll guide you like a beacon through the trenches. This wondrous wing-woman can be counted on to spot a wedding ring from 50 yards, flirt with the bald friend, or put you in a cab at the end of the night with strict instructions for the cab driver to take you to your apartment and your apartment only.

While your coupled girlfriends circulate complaints about their relationship (which you'd best not have an opinion on) unsolicited dating tips, and those fun-free dinner invites with her and her guy (when you prayed the sangria was strong enough for you to drink yourself into a blackout,) your Single Girlfriend is a tough love distributing bestie who will be honest about your career; why not to invite your boss to Happy Hour; and how no one has really gained weight on the Pill since 1967. She'll touch up your eyeliner, wash the wine stains off your shirt, or field a phone call from Gram-Gram when you’re loaded.

So raise a glass, send a text, and thank God, Allah, or Ilaha the Syria mountain god, for your Single Girlfriend!

City of Schemes

An undisclosed number of years ago, like all spirited young college graduates, I felt my education was an unique contribution and one that society would immediately recognize and compensate accordingly. Two weeks later, I realized that my B.A. in English was the economic equivalent of Monopoly money and with $60,000 in student loan debt, there was little more I could do with it than die of starvation. But where could I find a financial future with quelled standards and a limited skill set?

Something like half of the population of D.C. are transplants. I can't speak for everyone, but I didn't come here for the fantastic winters, effortless commutes, or that special sweet talk I get from Stabby the homeless guy who lives outside of Farragut North.

And while the D.C. ratio of lawyers to, let's say, mathematicians, is slightly unbalanced, it still deserves a hat tip as one of the most economically and politically relevant cities around. Not just because it's the Capital—I mean, look at Islamabad or Ottawa—instead it's like the entire city keeps itself from sinking into its swampy foundation by sheer will or ego alone.

It could be the exact environment for my own big dreams: that one day I can support my entire family with a thriving career, a savvy investment, or the court settlement money from a congressman linked to my disappearance.

Against Medical Advice

In 2013, modern medicine confirmed what many of my exes had long suspected: I have an atrial septal defect, otherwise known as "ASD" or a hole in the heart.

When faced with this potentially life altering medical condition, there was only one course of action I could take. Fly to France, forge the required medical certificate for the Paris Marathon, participate in said marathon (which I only ran 13 miles of, I mean, let's be practical, I did have a hole in my heart) and then travel on to Amsterdam. 

Amsterdam was an easy destination match for an ASD diagnosis. With its cannabis coffee shops and red-light district, the Dutch seem like the sort of people who are likely to appreciate my genetic inclination to pass out in bars.

The Bermuda Triangle

Modern romance is riddled with causal flings, on-again/off-agains, and half-hearted commitments. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd always thought that a monogamous relationship meant that one man, one women, and their sex dungeon were ready to settle down and spend the rest of their lives together. But ask the average couple a question about their relationship and......

These days, couples are charting a far more perverse new territory of relationships: the Bermuda Triangle. Just what is the Bermuda Triangle? And why does it doom so many relationships to its murky depths?

Studies have shown that when choosing a paint color if given five color options to select from, people tend to make the decision faster and more confidently than people who are given twenty color choices. The theory is that an overabundance of choice leads to fear of "missed opportunities and unrealistically high expectations". It's the worry that we're settling, that we could do better, or that we’re missing out. By allowing a relationship to remain undefined, we avoid choice (e.g. "the talk") as a way to prevent ourselves from experiencing regret.

While Gulf Streams, Violent Weather, and Methane hydrates will seal a mariner's fate in the actual Bermuda Triangle, interpersonal instability poses the greatest threat to otherwise seaworthy relationships.

So is there any hope for a couple who has navigated into this watery relationship graveyard?

Sharks and Sheep

Ever since college where we learned fundamental life skills like living away from home, choosing a non-Liberal Arts major, and how to shotgun a beer, I'd resigned myself to the notion that the English major's lot in life was to see the nuance and beauty in an otherwise mechanical, left-brained world, and not perhaps drive economic trends, truly understand what a hedge fund is, or say things like: "Divide my assets between my 401k and my Roth IRA," or "We don't need to find a different ATM. My balance is high enough to cover the foreign ATM fee."

And I was okay with that. Truly fine with the notion that what I lacked in capital, I made up for in my ability to shotgun a beer. Certain that society needed both sharks and sheep. Career-driven capitalist every bit as much as hippy humanitarians. The "Type-A" predators with their smart, aggressive life and career decisions, and those of us content to bumble through job and relationship choices with all the calculating ruthlessness of a nurse shark.

But then the universe, who'd always been up for shotgunning a beer with me, handed this sheep a series of personal, professional, and medical misfortune.

Anyone who's experienced any type of adversity wants to feel there's a deeper meaning behind it all. Like a Super Mario Brothers game where of course it's hard to get through the Mushroom Kingdom but you can take pride in your collection of coins, Fire Flowers, and ultimately saving Princess Toadstool.

But sometimes it seems like the empathy, altruism, and social awareness I've accumulated from my hardships have the real world worth of Fire Flowers. And, at times, that can be difficult to reconcile. Like a t-shirt that reads, "I've Been To Hell And All I Got Was This Stupid T-Shirt".

But unlike sharks, that's when sheep [who are very deep thinkers, no citation] remember that there's significance in both our failures and our triumphs. How are we certain? There has to be.

“If the whole universe has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning" ~C.S. Lewis

Everything I Know Is Ridiculous - Part XXX

5) Heterochromia iridum, or having two different color eyes, occurs in approximately six out of 1,000 which seems way more common than I've ever statistically noticed.

4) The zebra puzzle is a logic puzzle attributed to Albert Einstein. Allegedly only 2% of the population can solve it.
3) In 1918, the USS Cyclops vanished without a trace within the area known as the Bermuda Triangle. The ship was carrying 306 crew and passengers at the time of its disappearance and neither the ship nor any survivors have ever been recovered.
2) Intuition is defined as "immediate understanding, knowledge, or awareness, derived neither from perception nor from reasoning." The mind chatters away like a crazy person, so to hone your intuitive inclinations, we need to silence this rambling lunatic by taking only our five senses into account.
1)

Feed Me Seymour

If all the cities in the U.S. met up for drinks one night after work, D.C. would show up late, bogart the pitcher of sangria, dominate the table conversation, then plop down a ten spot when it was time to split the tab. An hour later, D.C. would make a booty call to a metropolitan equivalent of a 5—Richmond for example—show up sloppy, be lazy in the sack, and not even give a courtesy call the next day.

The point is, D.C. is a taker.

Recently, a work project dominated the lion's share of my free time. Like a tornado through a Kansas City trailer park, my nights, weekends, even lunches were sucked into the vacuum. And after the storm, like a Kansas City trailer park resident, I was confused, disorientated and left with the question: "Where the hell are my pants?"

D.C. is the type town that will gladly accept all the extra we're willing to give. From our jobs that asks for few hours on the weekends, to the Metro which wants our patience while single-tracking, to the homeless who wonder if we have a dollar to spare. And while I believe that accomplishing anything worthwhile requires that we devote the best, and most, of ourselves to it, how do you know when that energy is channeling your life's dreams and when it's fueling a giant man-eating plant?

Delphic Maxim

When I turned 30 and received my key to the kingdom of relationship insights — you'll know more when you get there, I'm not really supposed to talk about it — I finally understood why so many people spend their twenties in relationships that are less successful than Donald Trump's presidency.

Our twenties are quite possibly the worst time to seek out a romantic partner. When we're in our twenties, we are actually terrible judges of our own character. But ask any twenty-something and they'll tell you how they're smarter than the average person. And harder working. More mature and pragmatic. Less likely to panic in a crisis. And a better driver.

By your thirties, both you and your potential mate, will have had a few real world experiences under your belt to give you a better sense of the person you truly are. It's likely you've dealt with a profound personal or professional setback; or the death of a loved one; or a serious health issue; or been dishonorably discharged from your position as office safety monitor because following the 2011 earthquake rather than lead a group of lawyers to safety, you ran for the hills to save yourself while shouting, "I'll see the rest of you in hell!"

Once you've established this heightened sense of self, your dating sensor becomes equally honed and highly sophisticated. Sorta like that computer screen lens thing the Terminator used. 

You're able to instantly analyze the data received from a potential dating partner and calculate the likelihood of a successful union. For example:

Hipster skinny jeans + PBR + misuse of irony

= MISMATCH

Popped collar polo shirt + hair gel + douchey sense of entitlement

= MISMATCH 

Suit and tie + piercing blue eyes + aura of education 

= TOUCH PACKAGE TOUCH PACKAGE TOUCH PACKAGE TOUCH PACKAGE TOUCH PACKAGE TOUCH PACKAGE—

*Wham Wham* Sorry about that.

It will still occasionally malfunction. Which I tried to explain to that judge, but he went ahead and charged me with eleven counts of lewd conduct anyway.

Nemesis

Along every career path there exists an Office Nemesis.

What makes the Office Nemesis relationship so interesting is its often one-sided dynamic. Your average feud will originate from a dramatic event, such as an affair, violent fight, or sports team loss.

But the catalyst behind an office clash is far more subtle, typically some imagined slight or perceived insult. For example:

"He never unjams the printer because he thinks his job is more important than mine."

"She asks super involved questions at the very end of meetings because she has no respect for my schedule."

"He's always looking at me with his stupid face."

Since the source of these office dramas is largely self-manufactured, the resulting feuds are often played out entirely in our own minds.

Memento

As someone whose been involved in her fair share of interoffice disputes, it's worth some reflection. Maybe I do keep looking at them with my stupid face?

But I'm receptive to the notion that a little perspective can keep interactions with an Office Nemesis from resulting in unprofessional behavior, delayed deadlines, and workplace blackouts.

In my willingness to embrace a win-win approach to workplace politics, I turned to my brother for his sensible, pragmatic advice. He advised,

"You've been freelancing for over a year... you don't have any coworkers. I've heard you refer to your desk lamp as your boss..."

So it's by no means impossible to take a positives approach to office dynamics. And I should know, my boss was total asshole.

Everything I Know Is Ridiculous - Part XXIX

5) These simple questions can reveal a great deal about your true character.
4) The Soundsnap website provides sound clips organized by category ranging from ice clinking in a glass to boat fog horn.
3) In 1903, a stone phallus weighing 2.2 tons was unearthed in rural Ohio. I would've guessed Idaho.

2) The best of Dr. Spaceman.

1) Mitch Hedberg's hilarious non sequitur brand of comedy.

My Date With A Beautiful Man

Now this isn't to say I haven't dated my share of attractive fellows—cause don't get me wrong—I have. But I've discovered there is a significant and profound difference between dating your average attractive guy and a painfully, ridiculously, over-the-top handsome man.

Exhibit A:

Paging Dr. Goodbody anyone? 

As the date approached, drinks after work, my anticipation grew. I passed the time by updating my e-mail signature block to read "Doctor’s Wife" which subsequently crashed my Outlook and provided my IT help desk administrator fifteen minutes of uproarious laughter.

So there’s a stereotype that men are superficial swine content to value appearance over more substantive traits like personality, ambition, or a basic mastery of the alphabet; while women, in contrast, need depth, insightfulness, and a full fledged melding of spirits to solidify attraction.

I did not find this to be the case. I realized the shocking extent of my own shallowness on the date with Dr. Goodbody. I couldn’t tell you what we talked about. He might well have been speaking in Portuguese. Rather than paying attention to what he was saying, I was simply thinking over and over again: "Hooooooooot. If I spill something on his shirt will he take it off??"

It could be that my utter lack of attention to the conversation resulted in the deficiency of future dates. At the end of the night, he hailed me a cab, gave me a squeeze, and went back to wherever it is that beautiful men go at the end of their day. But not without imparting a lasting impression on not only me but also my cab driver who commented, "My goodness that was a nice-looking man."

How right you are Ameed.

The lesson here: really, really, crazy good-looking men should not be allowed to just wander free. They should be kept in museums or parceled into companies like Netflix where women can rent them for an evening.

Everything I Know Is Ridiculous - Part XXVIII

1) Dr. Pepper was, in fact, believed to have been named after a real doctor, Charles T. Pepper, while Dr. Seuss was simply a pen name.
2) Rock Paper Scissors holds a surprising amount of hidden science specifically the Nash Equilibrium. In a nutshell, choose paper.
3) My Myers-Briggs personality type is INFJ.
4) Top movie closing lines.

5) Let the music play down at Fraggle Rock. Or else.

Southern Comfort

I'm not saying there's a shortage of southern gentlemen in D.C., but I've lived in the area for seven years now and the last man to open a door for me was a locksmith.

Southern gentleman in the Washington Metro Area come around as rarely as a blue moon or a Republican who doesn't sound like he's acting on orders from the planet Unetav.

The trouble is, the area is teeming with the Southern Gentleman's natural enemy: the bro.

Bro outbreak? Try "Bro Bomb" by the makers of "Bro Be Gone"

Bros can be identified by their pastel hues, gelled hair, and of course, douchey sense of entitlement. Spotting a bro is also often accompanied by the overwhelming desire to punch him in the face until your hand breaks. If there's still confusion, please refer to the below test to assist in categorizing your specimen:

Subject holds his liquor like a:
(a) Gentleman.
(b) Sixteen year girl.

Subject has taken a picture of himself using his own cell phone, then posted said picture onto a social media account:
(a) Good Lord no. A man would rather kill himself.
(b) Yes, five time since the start of this question.

Subject can drive a manual car:
(a) Yes. Never driven anything else.
(b) Like, you mean on Grand Theft Auto?

Subject has discharged a firearm:
(a) Of course. But only in a safe, responsible manner as the Second Amendment allows.
(b) That's what SHE said!

If subject answers (b) to even one of the above questions immediately commence with punching him in the face until your hand breaks.

However, if subject answered straight (a)s, Congratulations, you've found yourself a genuine, slow-drawled, rough-handed cowboy! Other signs include: increased tolerance of whiskey, him guiding you through crowds with his hand on the small of your back, and bra beginning to unhook itself.

Mental Health Mullet

Having a mental illness sucks. It sucks so badly, I'm literally forced to pay people [psychiatrist, therapist] to talk to me about it. Everyone else is two sentences away from realizing they have something less uncomfortable to do.

As a society we've broken through many gender, racial and religious barriers, why is it when it comes to the the stigma of mental illness, we're still slaves to the rubber stamp and its arbitrary "crazy" or "sane" label?

Imagine telling someone with cancer that "Hey guy, it could be so much worse, you could have schizophrenia. You could struggle with depression or experience persistent anxiety.". But tell someone you're bipolar, and you not only relinquish the sympathy you'd normally garner from having an illness, it also give strangers the green light to ask you weird questions:

"So, do you have multiple personalities?"

"Aren't you like really good in bed?"

"Can you fly?"

No, yes, and sometimes.

Mental health issues still weirds people out, which frankly, pisses me off. Because thanks to the combined efforts of three different mood stabilizers, I'm the sanest person I know. And when it comes to psychological wellness, I've discovered the average person wears a mental health mullet: normal in the front, fucking cuckoo bananas crazy lunatic in the back.

They don't know they're crazy