Procrastination Nation

Last week I turned 25 years old. Part of me says, "who cares? I"m still in my 20's, I still have my youth and a world of opportunity ahead of me." But there is another side of me that is scared shitless. My inability to reconcile these two contradictory pieces of my psyche lies in one simple fact: I'm a procrastinator. Contrary to popular belief, procrastination has very little to do with laziness. Those who practice the vice of laziness refuse to complete tasks based on the exertion of energy needed to complete said task. Adversly, those of us who suffer from the dreaded neurosis of procrastination exert vast amounts of energy constantly. There isn't a moment that goes by when we are not occupied with an endeavor - unfortunately - most of the time these endeavors serve one purpose and one purpose only: AVOIDANCE. I am not, by nature, a lazy person. I have quite a laundry list of goals: some I have acheived and others I have only imagined. I also pride myself on being an intelligent and well-informed human being. BUT, I am deathly afraid of failing - so much so that I suffer a paralysis of the mind and body at the mere thought of failure. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this may be an extremely common phenomena, especially for those of us who are fairly new to the 'outside world.' Once I left the structure and deadlines of academic life, my inclination for procrastination grew increasingly worse. In fact, I've come to see procrastination as a way of existing in the world, albeit a toxic one. Let me give you a few examples.

#1. To avoid the failure that I may have felt from pursuing an acting career I: moved to Minneapolis, MN and became a flight attendant.

#2. In avoidance of the daunting task of writing an essay for my academic advisor that would double as a writing sample for my graduate school applications I: read countless blogs, started my own blog, I've read 100 novels, I've researched a vast array of topics from nutrition to freemasonry, I even took up running!

#3. For a brief period of time I took fitness very seriously, but now I avoid going to the gym by: cleaning the house, making never-ending social obligations, and crash dieting.

And the procrastination doesn't end there. In a pathetic effort to justify my actions, I tend to take a "this better than that" approach to life. What makes "this" better than "that?" I have a list of insane criterion that I follow. If it benefits me intellectually, physically, or spiritually, it can remain at the top of the list. If it is something that may cause immediate or eventual failure, it goes to the bottom of the list. Of course, no procrastinator's list would be complete without the self-destructive column. In an effort to punish myself for my imperfection (for I find that perfectionism and procrastination go hand in hand) I incorporate a certain amount of self-destruction. This has taken many forms over the years, from damaging sexual relationships to smoking, substance abuse, and an unhealthy fondness for baked goods. Now, you may be wondering why I'm writing this in a blog instead of telling my therapist . . . but the answer is simple. I've already told my therapist, and I write this in the hope that the words on the screen will relieve some of the anxiety that accompanies my procrastination. It's all about baby steps. After all, I've written this blog haven't I? I left my job as a flight attendant . . . I was in a play . . . but why am I looking for your validation? Perhaps I'm just searching for one more reason to put it off, whatever it is, one more reason to procrastinate.

Transparency: The Capitalist Oxymoron

"We are condemned to be free." - Sartre

The website Capitalism.Org describes Capitalism as "a social system based on the principle of individual rights." The website goes on to categorically address the common concerns related to Capitalism as an economic and social system. The problem with the website reflects the problem with Capitalism as a whole: There is a category designated to 'morality,' but none that explore the broader issue of 'ethics.' All the jargon in the world can't change the fact that Capitalism = Exploitation, and in the midst of a political 'revolution' (not to be confused with an economic recession) that preaches the ambiguous ideal of 'transparency,' I think the American people would do well to re-examine the moral justification for upholding a Capitalist economic system. To illustrate my point, let me venture back to Capitalism.org -

Who is the poor man better off under: Mother Teresa or Bill Gates?
A Mother Teresa who hands them bowls of slop every day, so they can barely exist -- or a genius like Bill Gates who creates a fortune for himself by helping others to create fortunes for themselves, i.e., "where the first feeds them for a day, the second helps them feed themselves." Observe that it is the Bill Gates of the world who are not allowed to exist in India -- and the Mother Teresas who are.
-CAPITALISM.ORG

No, you're not crazy, the above passage is an argument for Capitalism that compares Bill Gates to Mother Teresa . . . and Bill Gates wins. First of all, that's messed up! But perhaps we should dissect the argument before we judge it too harshly. The Free-market enthusiasts say that the world of Mother Teresa is one in which the poor are kept enslaved by those around them - volunteers who would feed them "slop" and provide nothing but the very basics of clothing and shelter. The down-trodden are never afforded the opportunity or even the dream to rise up from their bondage and take hold of their potential. If taken to it's inevitable extreme, this argument advocates the abolition of all charitable programs, government and private alike. I guess that takes care of the 'ethical' aspect of Capitalism . . . just kidding. Under this 'Capitalist Ideal,' all people are created equal, because anyone can make money. In fact, making money is the only 'right' we have. All other laws and regulations must go through some democratic-majority-rules-style process. Let's look at California's highly controversial Proposition 8 as an example. Proposition 8 was a ballot proposition to amend the state of California's constitution. Basically, they voted on whether or not gays should have the constitutional 'right' to marry. Those in favor of the amendment won, needing only a simple majority. This decision had nothing to do with the sacredness of marriage, it had to do with money--because in a Capitalist country, money is the only thing that is revered. We can break this principle down theoretically in two easy steps. First, let's look at the idea that individual morality holds more weight than living in an ethical society. Capitalism assumes that each individual has the ability to take responsibility for their education and livelihood. What it DOES NOT take into account is the cultural, social, religious, and fiscal differences that exist within a large country like the United States. Going back to proposition 8, since the majority deemed homosexuality incompatible with their personal view of morality, they decided to deny them certain civil rights. Yet, when it comes to the financial sector, regulation is met with an uproar of angry white male voices. Secondly, let's break down Capitalism as a Utopian ideal. Ideally, Capitalism contains a body of people - all of whom act in their own self-interest. This self-interest creates wealth for the individual and in turn helps the economy thrive. So what is the individual moral tenet of Capitalism? GREED. Perhaps that's where Bill Gates and Mother Teresa differ. So what can we conclude from all this? Let me give you a hint - transparency is a far-away illusion for Capitalism. Oppression is a necessary part of our economy. Individual morality is a sick joke. WORKERS OF THE WORLD UNITE!

Stay Informed:A Socialist Reading List

Pedagogy of the Oppressed by Paulo Freire
Being and Nothingness by Jean-Paul Sartre
The Poverty of Philosophy by Karl Marx

The Feast of La Befana

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany. This is a very important holy day in the Christian Tradition because it marks the unveiling of baby Jesus to the world. Yet, this is one of the many places in Biblical lore where things get a little sticky for Christianity (depending on your level of spiritual flexibility). You see, the Magi of Persia (AKA: the three wise men) were notorious Pagan mystics known for their knowledge of occult philosophy, astrology, and sorcery. The Bible does little to debunk their metaphysical abilities, rather it discusses the possibility of the infiltration of Jewish prophetic ideology into the Zoroastrian culture that was prevalent in the Middle East at the time. For a religion that put millions of people to death for the supposed practice of witchcraft, it seems a little hypocritical to blatantly glorify astrology and the deliverance of gifts that perfectly coincide with the Pagan festival of Saturnalia. But let's move on to another festival that takes place on January 6th, and that's the Feast of La Befana (celebrated primarily in Italy). We have a tradition in my family that on Christas Eve before the presents are opened, a story is read. This year I read the tale of La Befana. The story begins with an old woman who prizes cleanliness above all things, always keeping her broom close by her side. One night, three men knock on her door in search of food and shelter. They explain that the townspeople had sent them, telling them that Befana keeps the cleanest house in all the village. Beaming with pride, she lets them in, feeds them, and allows them to stay in her cottage for the night. The three men, dressed in strange robes, tell La Befana that they are in search of an infant, prophesied to be the saviour of the world. They even go so far as to invite her on their journey . . . but Befana fears that while away, her house will gather dust, and panics at the idea that she won't be there to clean it up. Upon their departure, Befana has a change of heart and sets off on the road with her broomstick. Alas, she searches far and low for the three men and the infant, but finds nothing. Legend has it that Befana continues to wander the European countryside in search of a child, and that is why she creeps in the night with her broom, bringing gifts to all the children on January 6th: The Feast of La Befana. While I enjoy this version of the Italian folktale, there is a variant to the story that interests me far more. It tells of an old woman stricken with grief by the death of her infant son. She secludes herself in her home, her only comfort being a rickety broomstick that she uses to sweep up the remnants of her painful memories. One day a bright star appears in the sky, and Befana hears whispers of an infant born in a faraway land. Delusional, Befana sets off with her broomstick madly searching for the child, thinking he is her own dead infant son. After weeks of wandering, Befana finds the child, bestowing upon him a loaf of bread that she herself had baked. The infant, delighted at receiving the first gift of his short life, gives her a gift in return, making her the mother of all the children in Italy. Hence, on the night of January 6, all italian children can expect to find a present from none other than La Befana.

I view the story of La Befana as a metaphor for the human search for meaning. We have all lost something, whether it be our innocence or an apparatus much more concrete, and in our maddness and delusion we wander aimlessly, looking for a saviour. Perhaps, like Befana, it is only through giving of ourselves that we can find true fulfillment . . . or maybe we find an illusion that brings us peace and comfort and we allow it to envelope us, concealing our miserable existence within the confines of myth and legend. Either way, Befana tells us something about the world. That's why this story fascinates me. Whether she's an old witch or a grief-stricken mother, Befana gives us hope that there is something at the end of the tunnel - perhaps not an infant saviour - but a gift from above or below that seems to say, "yes, there is a meaning to this life . . . don't give up hope." And in that moment, we receive our gift. Not a loaf of bread, something much less substantial. It's the Holy Communion of the unknown, and we accept it only inasmuch as we believe in it. So tonight, while you get ready for bed and take time to reflect on your day, think of Befana . . . think of what you've lost, and hopefully - your search will be a fruitful one.

2009 Year in Review? No Thanks

The last week of December is generally a very special time of the year. It's a week of shopping with gift cards, eating holiday left-overs, making lofty weightloss goals, and my personal favorite - reading the Year in Reviews. Unfortunately, this year sucked. Even Dave Barry, who specializes in taking less than favorable situations and making them hilarious, wrote his Year in Review with a slightly heavy hand that, frankly, left me bored and tired of 2009. However, at the risk of sounding like a complete narcissist, I had a wonderful 2009! I spent the first half of the year finishing up my airline extravaganza, then proceeded to move to a town where I've had the opportunity to do some acting, re-connect with old friends, and I've found a place in a community that I love. To be honest, I'm a little torn. I feel like I should write some lengthy diatribe on the social climate of America. It would read something like: We've inaugurated the first quasi-black president, America continues its cultural decline as illustrated by John and Kate and a balloon boy, and we've started yet another 'war on terrorism,' only this time it's in Afghanistan. That's my Year in Review in a nutshell. So here's my question: Why does America insist on continually punishing itself? We can't have an 'All-American' celebration without a guilt-complex resonating in the background. For such a young country, we certainly have a lot of baggage. Just for one night, let's put our differences aside, break open the champagne and toast the coming of a new year! Maybe it's not that simple. Our country was founded on the tennents of conflict, seperation, and partisanship. With our resounding HAPPY NEW YEAR comes another, not so celebratory exclamation. Hopefully in the coming year everyone will receive equal rights, hopefully we can finally bring the troops home, hopefully the unemployment rate will go down, hopefully we'll all have affordable healthcare. But it's not likely . . . so let's raise a glass to our lips and hope instead that our hangover isn't too debilitating, that our day jobs stay intact, that we can hold on to the simple joys of merely being together during the holidays. It isn't world peace, but it's something. Happy New Year.

Check out Dave Barry's Year in Review for yourself:
http://www.miamiherald.com/living/columnists/dave-barry/story/1397654.html

I'm a Closet Christmas Fanatic

I'm a grinch, a Scrooge, a big humbug. I grumble about Christmas music, I never say Happy Holidays (much less Merry Christmas), and I don't give two hoots about Jesus' birthday. That's what I portray on the outside, anyway. You can find me on any given December day walking around in my grinch pajama pants and glow-in-the-dark grinch t-shirt and if you tell me you're going Christmas shopping? You can count me out of it. But it's time to let the cat out of the bag . . . I'm secretly a Christmas junkie. The news shouldn't really come as a surprise. Afer all, Christmas embodies many of the qualities I fervently believe in. For instance: peace on Earth, joy filling the hearts and minds of all worldly creatures, larger-than-life decorations that would be considered gaudy as sin any other time of the year, and let's not forget the cast of strange and macabre characters that make up the Christmas mythology. What's not to like? Of course, with all the holiday trappings it's important to remember the true meaning of Christmas: PRESENTS! Just kidding. I'm actually referring to the birth of Jesus. That's right, I refuse to let Christians have the monopoly on celebrating teen pregnancy. Especially for those of us on the margins of society, there is something empowering about a 14 year old girl wandering the streets of Bethlehem looking for a place to birth her bastard child. Coupled by a supporting cast of a few Pagan priests with a penchant for astrology and a dead-beat dad who fades into the background, the Christmas story is easily one of the greatest narratives ever told. And then there are the parties! Endless amounts of food and wine, chocolates, candies, cookies, tender meats, creamy beverages. For those of us without children or extreme sentimentality, December becomes a month packed with gluttony and drunkenness. We hop from one holiday party to another bearing a white elephant gift in one hand and a side dish in the other, smiling hazily at old friends we haven't seen in years, sharing a certain awkwardness that is the hallmark of mainstream Christmas culture.

So there it is, I've come out of the Christmas closet. Mere moments ago I waited on a customer wearing a 'Keep Christ in Christmas' button. Outwardly I kept a stoic face, looked at the button with mild disgust, and told the woman to have "a very pleasant holiday," but inwardly, even she couldn't crush my holiday spirit! While I'm at it, I suppose I should make a confession. The other night, after one of many holiday parties ended and my roomate was asleep in her bed, I crept out to the living room, turned on the television and watched the HGTV Celebrity Holiday Home Special. It featured three designers decorating the homes of Kathie Lee Gifford, Jewel, and Holly Robinson Peete (I have no clue who she is) and it was the chintziest and most wonderful special ever aired on a cable network (Kathie Lee's home was decorated like a hunting lodge). Perhaps I'm exaggerating, but nonetheless, I'm trying to make a point. I'm sick and tired of these old conservatives creating an intentional show of their 'Merry Christmas,' their spittle flying onto my face. They are such rebels! Such pioneers! They laugh in the face of political correctness, they are champions for Jesus, who is the true savior and bringer of Christmas! All other cultures, religions, hell, all other holidays be damned! THIS IS CHRISTMAS! I'm here to burst the proverbial bubble. Christians and retailers don't get to keep Christmas to themselves anymore. If a gay atheist can celebrate Christmas, anyone can. Now, when someone spouts 'Merry Christmas' at me in an attempt to offend, instead, I smile, and while I usually utter a friendly 'Happy Holidays' back, I know they can see the Christmas Spirit burning inside of me. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

The Week 2 Blues

It's week two of my healthy living campaign and I think it's safe to say that I am in a slump. It's not that I lack the motivation to work out or I'm upset because it takes such a long time to see results . . . it's something deeper than that, something primal. I find that anytime I engage in a potentially life-changing activity, around the second week I bump into an existential crisis. I start questioning my motives, thinking things like "why does this even matter?" or "what are you trying to accomplish" and of course there's "you don't have to prove anything to anyone." It's that last statement that gets me. I end up taking on a 'me against the world, so fuck off' kind of attitude. I scoff at the media - throwing images of beautiful men and women in my face and thank God I'm so above that, thank God I'm unlike everyone else - acquiring chronic low self-esteem and buying into the false promises of consumerism . . . except that I'm not. I'm just as susceptible to the subliminal and not-so-subliminal messages that have resulted in our current cultural malaise. But this, too, is a cop-out. I can't blame all of my problems on society, the media, or the economy. At some point I have to take responsibility. And that's when I realize that I do have something to prove . . . to myself (cheesy, I know). Go to CNN.com and look at the Top Video Picks of the Day. It doesn't matter what day of the week, they will probably look something like this: 'Don't Forget About the Deficit,' 'Junk Food to Haute Cuisine,' 'Depression Meds Forever?' 'The Obesity Epidemic,' and so on. Every now and again it's nice to turn these things off and focus on the self. That's the funny thing about Generation Me. To be self-centered we all have to stay so incredibly in tune to what's going on - it's a losing battle. That's why I have to follow through with this one thing (whatever that may be). I need to know that I have what it takes to accomplish something, no matter how small the undertaking. If I say I'm going to the gym today, I need to do it. If I preach organic, healthy foods, I need to eat that way. When did trends become our reality? Actions don't speak louder than words anymore. But I'm veering from the point: I've got the week 2 blues. Let's face it, what I really want to is to be fit, attractive, and healthy (an added bonus). I want to get work as an actor, I want to find a life partner (someday), I want people to take me seriously. Unfortunately, these things are easier if I'm in-shape. Thin is definitely in - that's evolution. That's also reality. So whether I like it or not, whether anyone agrees with it or not, going to the gym is something that must be done. No worries, I'll get through my second week blues. All I need is a personal mantra, perhaps something from an iconic marketing campaign. When in doubt? Just Do It.

A Celebration of Snow / The Snow Queen

Currently, the midwest is in the midst of a blizzard. For those of us in the heartland, that means non-stop shoveling, hazardous road conditions, and eternal layers of clothing. Despite the drawbacks of heavy snow and unbearable cold, there is something magical about a Wisconsin winter. It means more time at home huddled up with friends. We drink hot coacoa and spiced wine, light candles, play games, and watch the snow fall. It's no secret that many regions of Wisconsin and Minnesota were colonized by Scandinavians and Germans: peoples who had an intimate knowledge of the harshness of winter. Speaking of which, the other night as the cold winds roared I began talking to my friends about the story 'The Snow Queen' by Hans Christian Andersen (a Danish writer). Much to my surprise (and chagrin) my friends had no idea what I was blabbing on about. Well, in devotion to all things winter, I've decided to share the fairy tale. It's considered by some to be the greatest Hans Christian Andersen story of all time. To read this and other Andersen tales, please check out http://www.online-literature.com/hans_christian_andersen/