Greetings from Florence

I'm writing from a hotel room in Florence, once again embarking on a post that will not be checked for typos until I return to the states in a few days. The mutiny of the Good Ship we-ain't-eatin'-no-stinkin'-Chinese-food proved a success as our tour guide spent most of today on the phone with the LA office trying to get us decent plans for tomorrow night. This company has been cutting all kinds of corners so we'll see what they pull out when they promised us something "trendier" to ring out oh-four.

As of my last post, here is a brief rundown of this trip:

-received a sweet email from my early-morn Swiss tour guide. It appears he's found my website and found the pictures to be "strange or funny." Maybe this was something that was lost in translation but it seems, he doesn't know which. Even in Europe, I get the same reviews...

-no gym + 7 days of gluttony = so glad when my pants fit this morning.

-we visited Venice today which was quite an interesting city. I wish I had more time to just sit and ponder how the hell they constructed the city, since the buildings are built right up to the water's edge. I know that city is sinking 2 ft. per year, but I wonder if at some point there was more dry land surrounding the water, or how they managed to lay the foundations to the structures. Many of the buildings dated back to the 16th century (I believe. According to the gondola rower with a thick Italian accent). All I could think about was how haunted the city must be. There were pigeons all over St. Marco Square, which is the center of town. For a few euros, you can buy a bag of corn kernels and they would eat them out of your hand, sometimes landing on your head, shoulders, etc. I quite enjoyed watching but didn't want to participate. I prefer not to have a winged rat shit on me. We took a gondola ride and saw Marco Polo and Casanova's houses. I think people live in there now. I think that's so strange, to be living in a house once inhabited by a world icon. I don't know...I would feel kind of intimidated.
We visited a blown-glass factory where this guy with a gymnast's body gave us a demonstration in the furnace room and made a vase. I couldn't get over the masculine curves under his shirt and was apparently, mumbling over and over, "I wish he would do this without his shirt." Because the guy who was sitting in front of me turned around and told me, "We GET it."

-we headed out to Florence which was a four hour drive. Had dinner at a little restaurant and the previously mentioned mild-mannered algebra teacher who is turning out to be a huge flirt asked the little bald waiter if she could have a box to take home her pasta appetizer to save for breakfast tomorrow. The waiter was so flattered that she liked the pasta so much that he brought her a full portion in a take-out container. What followed was a five minute compliment orgy between her, the waiter, and the maitre'd in which she was trying to tell the maitre'd how much she liked the pasta and how she wanted to have it for breakfast the next day and how nice our waiter was, while the maitre'd kept saying he spoke very little English but he was so happy that she liked the waiter. It went on and on and finally I told her she had to stop because it was starting to sound like she was talking about pasta while the maitre'd was arranging a threesome between the three of them that would culminate in having pasta for breakfast.

-I forgot to mention in my last post about the weird ass porn I saw on regular tv in Switzerland. First of all, the televised porn rules are weird. It's on a normal channel, and the rules are, you can't show penis and you can't show any sort of penetration. But you can show s&m stuff, and lots and lots of chicks masturbating. I was channel surfing all 9 channels that were available and it was on channel 9. I knew something was wrong when I reached it and there was an ad for porn that's sent right to your cell phone. The next thing I knew, the program comes on and it's like clips from porns presented music-video style. The one I saw was called Fetish and it was this s&m clip with this guy all decked out like an SS officer complete with monacle, boots, and evil moustache, intently (with a hint of cruelly) watching this leather-clad chick masturbate in an open jet cockpit. While this tied up guy in a leather mask and a bit between his teeth squirmed in anguish. Sometimes, der pretend-fuhrer would march around, clacking his heels while the camera followed his boots, fetishistically drooling. WHAT THE FUCK? It was one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen. Yet it was like a car crash. You just couldn't look away. Thankfully, an ad came on for SWISS DATE with a girl who masturbates using her cellphone so I was able to switch the channel to something more stimulating in my mind...24 dubbed in German. (Even in German, Xander Berkeley's a freakin' badass.)

I want to do a quick retrospective list for 2004 but it's 2am here so I have to get to bed. I'll do it at a later time. Hope everyone has a fun, safe time tonight.

The Other Venice

Hello from Italy! I'm in a little hotel just outside of Venice right now. We got in after it was dark when everything was closed so I have no idea what's outside of these walls. I'll have a better idea when the sun comes up tomorrow morning.

Trip Summary:

# of hours flown: 11 1/2
# of bad movies not slept through: 1 (I, Robot)
# of cities visited: 5 (Paris, Dijon, Lucerne, Milan, almost-Venice)
# of pictures taken: 14 (ran out of space on my memory stick. Bought a new one today)
# of times was acting inappropriate in a picture: zero (!!! Good job, Julia!)
# of times cussed: 1
# of times reprimanded by a stranger: 1
# of cute Swiss tour guides: 1
Getting hit in the face with cold water from a misdirected showerhead at 6am: Priceless

Trip Synopsis:

We spent all of Saturday on a plane to Cincinnati and then another to Paris, arriving on Sunday morning. We immediately met up with our tour guide and started the tour running, with a trip to the Louvre. Our guide said we only had an hour and a half because it took half of us 2 hours to get our bags at the airport (they were accidentally sent to another terminal). Michael was grumpy from not having eaten so we broke from the group to find him food. Then I lost my ticket so I couldn't get back in. I was a bit upset but my mom hates museums and Michael just wanted to go back to the bus and sleep so she gave me her ticket and they headed back to the bus. I only had half an hour before it was time to meet and our guide said she would dock people a dollar for each minute late whenever they held up the group. I figured I would just find the Mona Lisa and then head back. Well, the Louvre is HUGE. It took me about 10 minutes just to get to it from the entrance. I'm not an art guru so I can't tell what makes some paintings valuable enough to put in a museum while others are stock wall coverings for Motel 6's. But the Mona Lisa is really interesting. She kind of looks...alive. I sprinted back to the bus, only knocking down 2 people in the process, only to have the tour group (guide included) return 15 minutes late.

Next we went to the Cathedral of Notre Dame, which is one of my favorite places in the world. I love the gargoyles and I love the energy of the place. There were priests in there who were open for confession. They sat in these little offices with signs saying which languages they were able to take confessions in. Today's priest could accept confessions in: French & Japanese. I thought this was kind of funny. Like when you go to the New Age bookstores out here in LA and they always have a little board withe fliers of all the psychics who are currently available for walk-in readings, along with a list of their abilities.

Again, my mom and brother could care less about the cathedral so they rushed me out and we went to a little cafe across the street. The waiter looked eerily like Dr. Ethan, my head shrink friend in Ohio. Like a French doppelganger. Snooty Faux-Ethan.

As the sun set, we drove around and looked at the other tourist destinations. And by looked at, I mean literally--we would drove by and the guide would say, "To the left..." "To the right..." and the driver would slow down just a wee bit. Sometimes, such as with the Eiffel Tower, we would get out of the car as the driver left the engine running while he held up traffic and we would take pictures as the guide yelled, "Back in the bus! Back in the bus!" (By the way, I've seen the Eiffel Tower 8 years ago in the day time and it's quite non-impressive. But by night, it's gorgeous. Absolutely stunning. As I thought as I flung myself back into the bus.)

We had dinner at a little French restaurant across from a theater. I say "French" because when we walked in, it was filled with Asians. You know how they always say, if you walk into a Chinese restaurant and it's filled with white people, then it's probably not a good Chinese restaurant? So what does it mean when a French restaurant is filled with Chinese? The food was okay. I had the duck and a lot of table wine and kept urging the mild-mannered high school algebra teacher next to me, "Come, Natasha! Ve dance!"

I was determined to hit a Parisian night club. We arrived at the hotel, I saw the bed, I was out.

We left Paris at 8am the next day and headed to Dijon. We were told by the guide that we only had 1 1/2 hours. We looked at a church they had there for a few minutes but no one seemed particularly interested, so everyone headed towards the shopping area instead, towards exclusive French establishments such as Sephora and McDonald's. The bus couldn't park at the arranged meeting area so we ended up chasing around the city square for a while. I kind of wish I could have not been involved in that scene and was merely an observer. A bunch of Asian people lugging shopping bags while chasing a large tour bus around an ancient city monument must have been a bizarre site.

We headed out to Lucerne, Switzerland. I was tired from all of the running around and bus-chasing so I unfortunately fell asleep in the bus. From the bits and pieces I gathered about the trip from fleeting moments of consciousness, 1. the mountains were beautiful; and 2. our guide was conducting some acapella karaoke contest. Thankfully, sweet sweet sleep took me to my happy place.

We arrived at Lucerne after it was already dark but I was determined to go out that night. I asked the guy at the front desk if there were any fun bars or clubs in town and he said the town was dead on Mondays so I may as well stay in the hotel. I went with my mom and brother to walk around and we found a small grocery store and went in and looked around. I asked the cashier, "Where are the good looking guys around here?" He directed me to a bar across the street. I headed out. The place was PACKED. Damn lying front desk guy. It was called The Roadhouse and it had kind of an American theme. Decent music. One of those places those traveler's guides would deem a "cozy expat hang out." Was harassed by a total doofus who thankfully couldn't speak English. I made no attempt to use charades to communicate with him. Was finally rescued by a couple of nice German mechanical engineers. They wanted to know what I thought of Bush (I apologized profusely). I wanted to know about Dirk Nowitzki ("Yeah, he's very good. He's from Germany." "Yeah, he's definitely very good." long awkward silence). Finally this cute guy in a baseball cap who'd been lurking all night comes and talks to me. He too wants to know about Bush. Again I apologize profusely. He asks me what I think of David Hasselhoff. I tell him that we make fun of him a lot in the US. He says, we do too. Because he has...[he does the universal gesture signifying "manboobs."] I immediately like this guy. He tells me he doesn't like horror movies. I figure he's a Pisces, later confirmed. He's exactly 9 months younger than me. If you think about it, if both of our mothers were exactly on time, then he was conceived the day I was born. Shout out! The bar closes down and he gives me an impromptu tour of Lucerne. Very sweet. I think I like Swiss boys.

We leave at 7am the next morning and do a walking tour of Lucerne. This place is GORGEOUS. Cobblestone walks, quaint little shops and structures, surrounded by snowcapped mountains. With the nicest people around. I tell the tour guide that I think that the people here seem very intelligent. She says that they're very proactive, as they're always voting on something, every few days. It's too bad we couldn't have important the Swiss in time for this year's doofus election.

We had a lunch of fondue and then headed out to the mountains. To my chagrin, the mountain we went to was called...Titlis. YES. I kept telling my mom that's what it was called but she wouldn't believe me. We took the longest ride up ever, consisting of a lift, a gondala, and a rotating lift (which rotated the people inside so you could get a 360 degree view of the outside.) The mountain was absolutely majestic. Near the summit, we were so high up that we couldn't even see the ground. We were completely shrouded. The place was incredibly beautiful. In fact, we took a picture up there that looks like we're standing in front of a cardboard backdrop of a "Swiss Mountain Scene" because it looked so unreal.

When we finally make it back down the mountain, it's dark already and in the lodge, there are skiers and boarders sitting around fire pits drinking beer while a DJ spun records. Like a ski retreat lodge party. In Europe. The stuff that fantasies are made out of. But of course, I couldn't stay because we're on this crazy strict schedule and I have to run my butt back to the bus before I get fined.

This morning I managed to miss my wake up call and have 15 minutes to get ready and out the door. Somehow, the shower nozzle ended up facing outward and when I went to turn on the water, I got hit in the face and chest with some seriously freezing water. It was probably the worst way to be woken up that I can possibly imagine. Lucerne was beautiful in the morning as dawn broke and it was sad leaving. Switzerland is beautiful. There's something about it--maybe it was the swans in the lake, maybe it was the feeling of safety and calm emanating from the surrounding mountains...it's definitely a place everyone must try to check out before they leave this earth.

We headed out to Milan, Italy, where we saw the most amazing work of architecture I've ever seen. I think it's called La Scala but I'm not sure because our guide does most of her guiding in Chinese. She got into a little cat fight with another tour guide who told her that she would be arrested for "guiding" inside a church, which was ridiculous. She went off on our guide in Italian and I couldn't help but notice how catfights just sound a certain way, no matter what language they're in. All she had to give was the universal sign of "The Hand," and it would have been the complete experience.

I found this little market that looked like the Fish Market up in Seattle, except it was filled with more pastries than I've ever seen in my life. They were stacked in open cases the way the fish are stacked on ice in Seattle. I boughta cannoli because it made me think of Jake ("Have a cannoli, man") and that thing was like eating a slice of heaven. I don't like cannolis but wow...WOW.

We hoped back onto the bus because of course, we were only given an hour and a half to hang out in Milan (this tour is crazy...it's the traveling equivalent of speed dating. I feel like I don't really get to see things and I'm sprinting through places, spending most of my time just trying to catch the bus). We drove out to Venice were we ate at...at Chinese restaurant. What the fuck? We flew all the way to Europe and we're eating at a Chinese restaurant? A lot of the people on the tour were really, really pissed about that. Apparently, we're going to be eating at another Chinese restaurant in Rome as well...on New Year's Day. Oi vey. Freakin' Chinese people. They're really stubborn about that. I went to Mexico once with my family and they insisted on eating at a Chinese restaurant. I personally believe in sampling what a culture does best, especially if I take the time and money to travel--I want to have what I can only get there. But my parents will always want bad Chinese food over no Chinese food. So it was weird. Anyway, I'm really really hoping that I don't end up spending New Year's Eve in a Chinese restaurant in Rome. I don't want to sound spoiled, but that just seems like kind of a waste.

I'm off to Europe in a few hours. I'm up late trying to load up my brother's new iPod for him but I managed to erase 9 hours of previously loaded music when I had to switch computers because his is virus-riddled. [Is it possible to add songs from a 2nd computer's library without erasing the songs already on there? The only option I seem to be able to find is to replace one computer's library with the other. What if someone has two computers?] So now he has 2 CDs on his. Utterly pathetic.

Since I'm out of the country until the New Year, here are my resolutions:

-fix my back
-fix my bank account
-finish open writing projects
-less cussing
-less cussing at work
-less bullying of superiors at work
-find moderation between being adamantly reclusive and manically outgoing.
-find moderation in inviting fucktards into my life
-find moderation in Costco expenditures
-find moderation in number of weird situations I purposely get myself into for the sake of the crazy stories
-better anger/anxiety management
-less time spent sitting in traffic
-be conscious of trying not to be influenced by people around me who cuss a lot or are very angry.
-get out of my head as much as possible
-travel more
-visit friends
-hang up on my downstairs neighbor at least once
-worry less about the things I can't change that may or may not happen, and use that time and energy to be more productive, like training my turtle to be a champion turtle racer.

Merry Christmas and happy new year everyone.

Um...in case people thought I was serious about the last post, I was making fun of this story:

http://www.cnn.com/2004/US/12/15/marijuana.caskets.reut/

And I actually got my facts wrong. It was 610 pounds of marijuana.

Traveling the Landscape of a Gemini Rollercoaster

Sorry I haven't blogged for a while. I ended up in jail. You may have read about it in the news. I was arrested for supposedly transporting 60 lbs. of marijuana stuffed into 4 coffins that were loaded into the back of a truck. It happened because my cousin's girlfriend's brother Rico was telling me about wanting to do this one night and I was like, that's crazy. that's serious trouble if you get caught. And he was like, you listen to me you little bitch. you ever disparage one of my idea again [Rico went to Northwestern], i'll cut your fucking nose off. and secondly, they're coffins. those cops aren't gonna open up a coffin.

So he calls his best friend Loco Joe who's got a hookup up in Sacramento. Loc and his buddy Benito come up with the coffins in a u-haul, and I just happened to be there. Loc and Rico loaded up the coffins, while Benito kept trying to molest me, acting like it was all just innocent flirting. Fucker. When everything was finally packed and ready to go, I obviously wanted to ride with Rico in the truck because I didn't want to be left alone with Loco Joe and fucking Benito. I'd get sold into sex slavery or some shit. But then, next thing I know, the cops are pulling us over because as ingenious as those guys were about hiding the pot, they somehow didn't calculate how pungent 60 pounds of weed would be.

So if any of my loyal readers would like to make a donation towards my defense in the upcoming trial, please look for my listing on www.foxy-female-inmate-penpals.net . I'm the non-burly one.

The Things I Say, Translated

Words

Lurve - the act of being so in love as to not see the fact that the object of your blind infatuation is uglier than you realize, a complete jerk, or is actually using you to get to your money, best friend, sister, brother, passport, etc.
Dingobat - a fat, curved penis, like a crooked salami
Pisser - an unfortunate event
Fucktard - men who are idiotic beyond words
Dooode - I'm sorry, my mind wandered and I missed everything you said in the last half hour. But by the look on your face, I feel like you're expecting me to be either mutually disgusted or supportively empathetic so I'll make a non-committal sound that could be interpreted as one or the other, or even both.
Wow. - I'm sorry, my mind wandered and I missed everything you said in the last half hour. But I'm not even going to pretend that I was listening.
Guh - whatever

Phrases

Punkass Bitch - ex boyfriend
Dumb Ho - a young woman in a Civic or some other economically priced compact car who cuts me off in traffic
Tricky Bitch - an older woman in a luxury car who cuts me off in traffic because she was doing her makeup in the mirror
Fucking Cunt - an older woman talking on a cellphone driving a luxury car who cuts me off in traffic, but flips me off when I honk at her
Ho Bag - a sleazy girl who lures other people's boyfriends away with the promise of anal
God's Natural Goods - pot
Monkey Torture - psychologically mindfucking someone
Vagina Music - chick music (ie Sarah MacLachlan, et al)
Cock Rock - boy music (ie Bon Jovi, et al)

Lines

Yawannabuyamonkey? - Haha, great story, now go away.
Shut the fuck up - Whoa.
Thank you for calling CSSN - I don't care if you're a customer. I'm fucking playing minesweeper here.
Bitch please - Giiiiirl...
Giiiiirl... - Wow.
Wow. - I'm sorry. I wasn't listening.
My weekend was mellow - I ended up at the sex club again.
How was yours? - Please don't ask me what happened.
I have to go now. - I ended up on stage, chained to a pole butt naked as a guy wearing a kilt named Georgie Boy spanked me silly.

I'm not gay - I played softball.
No seriously, I'm not gay - I played softball.
Why are you looking at me that way? I'm not gay! - I'm terrified of lesbians
Not that I have anything against them - because they can kick my ass.
I have lots of friends who are lesbians - I knew one girl in high school, but she used to wholely kick my ass.
And it's all cool with me, but I'm not gay - I played softball.

Wait a Minute... - And suddenly I realized, I think I may have gotten into another bad situation involving a dirty old man again.
So I was like, I'm outta here - But I still gave him my number.
I was totally grossed out - we made out in the backseat of his Cadillac.
I hope I never run into him again - I think I'm carrying his love child.
Why do these weird things always happen to me? - please...stage...INTERVENTION.

It Ain't A Good Time 'Til You Throw Up a Lil In Your Mouth

So I was at the gym last night, sitting in the jacuzzi, which I've found has miraculously alleviated my back issues. Behind this wall are these shower spouts, and everyone who gets into the jacuzzi is required to rinse off first. So since I'm near the edge of the wall and can see around it, I happen to glance towards the shower and see this middle-aged obese, hairy Persian guy rinsing himself, wearing what looks like tight briefs. As he turns off the shower and starts walking towards me, I can feel the bile rising up my throat and into my mouth. From my lucky perspective sitting at ground level below him, he is indeed wearing briefs, which are now wet, see-through, and clinging to his...bush. There was quite a mass of hairy darkness in there.

He gets into the jacuzzi; I sprint out.

I know that swimming shorts are essentially underwear, but jesus. I've had that image burned in my head all day and it's given me a headache.

"Normal people don't drink things for breakfast that taste like old ladies' cooch."

-Brian, as he looked distastefully at my papaya-kiwi-pear shake.

Can You Phone In a Curse?

I got home at 4:20am late Saturday night/early Sunday morning (depending on if you're an optimist or a pessimist) and managed to sleepwalk through my sleep-prep routine and tumble into bed 15 minutes later. Around 4:45 am, the phone started ringing.

I don't know about you guys, but for me, when the phone rings at an unnatural hour, I assume something very bad has happened and someone is calling me to tell me who died. So I always pick it up, even if only by instinct, despite my brain not being in any way awake.

Hello?

No answer. I hang up, wondering if maybe I had merely imagined the phone ringing in my sleep-deprived delerium. I throw down the phone into the corner and am asleep before my face hits the pillow, when the phone starts ringing again.

I have to scramble across the floor to pick it up.

Hello?

Silence.

Hello?????

I hang up, definitely irritated. I don't have caller ID on the phone in my bedroom, and I know that I should go to the kitchen to check the caller ID there, but I don't have the energy so I go back to sleep.

A few minutes later, the phone is ringing again and I let it ring, trying to incorporate it into my dream. It goes silent, and then starts ringing again. I'm seriously peeved at this point. I pick it up.

Who is this???

(I really wanted to say, who the FUCK is this, but even totally pissed off at 5 in the morning, I can't help but be polite)

there's silence, and then someone rattles off something brief in a foreign language, then goes silent. I couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman.

I ask again, Who is this?

There's silence, and then they rattle off something brief in a foreign langauge again, followed by silence.

I ask again, Who is this?

No answer.

We both stay on the line for a while, neither person saying anything, but neither person hanging up. Finally, I've had it so I hang up, but a few moments later, the phone starts ringing again. I ignore it, letting it go to the machine.

What the hell is that??? If it's a wrong number from someone in a foreign country, they're wasting a lot of money misdialing someone who is obviously not the person they're looking for, as evidenced when my answering machine and I consistently answered.

Then I started worrying, that maybe someone was phoning in a voodoo curse on me.

this is about pain.

Brian was sweet and brought home a copy of the New York Times because it had an article about the siblings of autistic kids on the front page.

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/12/10/health/10siblings.html

This article wrenched me up and made me cry. It threatened to open a door that I've got locked up, boarded and barricaded, and I just don't know if I can handle that door being opened. This part hit me the hardest:

The goal of teaching Andrew to play Uno was Jeffrey's pleasure. But that does not mean the younger boy is free of responsibilities unusual for his age. When the two brothers visit their grandparents, for example, Jeffrey is a translator. He is the one who can tell whether Andrew is trying to say "juice" or "cheese" and also can distinguish a "fake" cry, which is best ignored, from a real one that requires adult attention.

Dr. Bridget A. Taylor, one of the founders of Alpine, Andrew's school, said that younger siblings like Jeffrey "don't know anything different" and thus slide naturally into an adult role. They are also so attuned to their parents' stress and heartache, Dr. Taylor said, that they hide their own feelings and "walk around like everything is fine and dandy."

But it's not. Things are not fine and dandy. Those of you who have siblings like this know what I'm talking about. All that you carry inside that no one in the world knows about, that you have no voice for, that you can't even talk to yourself about because you feel like an evil, evil human being when you do. You have no voice to talk about the war zone that home can be, when you have an unpredictable sibling who needs so much, when frustration starts tearing at your parents' marriage, when they themselves become rageful and volatile.

There's really no way and with no one to talk about these complex experiences. What it's like in a house that has this element. You're obligated by responsibility to people, to protect people on one side while feeling like a horrible selfish person for having any inkling of resentment on the other, so that there's no way to feel anything or confront anything. You just lose your voice and your memory just trying to bring anything up to your consciousness. It's a feeling of drowning from the inside, whenever I try to dissect what happened between the ages of 8 (when we started realizing something was wrong with my brother) and 18 (when I left home and had the chance to find myself). And it's true. I can't remember. I can't remember most of what life was like between those ages. Near-total amnesia. Sleepwalking. A long blank that could have been filled with anything. Or maybe nothing. Like trying to piece together my past with faded photographs that may as well have belonged to someone else, of someone else's life.

The article takes an interesting angle but doesn't dig deep enough into the experience of these siblings. It doesn't talk about how, once you're supposedly "your own person," your identity and experience of the world are still forever tied to that complex web of responsibility and emotion and amorphous guilt, and at any moment, the universe could call upon you for complete, total self-sacrifice, which you will give without a second thought. Because it's everything you've come from and all you know. It doesn't talk about how it's always somewhere in the back of your mind, that listening, that waiting for the phone to ring, because there is always an emergency right around the corner. And when things are too quiet, it just means something very, very bad is about to happen.

Because when you live with something so unpredictable and volatile during your formative years, you're always on call. And if you aren't prepared to jump into action and something disastrous happens, you will destroy yourself with blame. And if there's anything you fear more than death and physical torture, it's those nights alone when all you can do is blame yourself and tear yourself apart.

[The sibling] became animated only when the conversation turned to people who tease or stare at her brother. "I give them an extra dirty look with a swear or two."

The article alludes to it but it doesn't mention the rage and guilt the siblings feel towards a cruel world where people don't understand their autistic brother or sister. Where people aren't tolerant of the person they desperately try to shelter. The article doesn't talk about the complex issues the sibling hides from the world that stem from the repressed rage at the people who say and do the most cruel, ignorant, hurtful things to their helpless brother or sister, these people who terrorize the very ones they're trying to protect, and their impotence to fully protect them. The siblings are terrified that they may be capable of enacting the violence against these people that their minds obsessively envision, this rage screaming inside their heads, demanding that the offenders be made to feel what it is to be on the other side, helpless victims, so that they can understand. They wonder if they are monsters for having these thoughts, and worry that if they are found out, they will be locked up. But truth is that these siblings are equally helpless, too cowardly to avenge these wrongs. So this rage turns on them, tearing them up from the inside for their lack of strength, so disgusting, their impotence as human beings.

If you ask me if I know what hate is, I'll tell you. I do. Oh, I really do. It's the taste in my mouth every time I see intolerance in someone else's eyes. It's what I feel towards myself every time I think about just how cruel people and this world can be. And how there's very little I can do to change it. To neutralize it. It's like trying to stop the blood from flowing out of the mortal wound of someone you love, but you can't because your little kid hands just aren't big enough. The way you fail just by being what you are. Human.

My pronouns are all messed up here because this is not a subject I have ever really gone into as it's not an easy subject nor one I have a good grasp on. There have been so many studies done on how divorce affects children and their ability to commit to relationships and lead anxiety-free lives, but I would love to see a study on siblings of autistic kids. I think they'll find a high prevalence of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder among this group as well.

"I keep it all to myself," [the sibling] added. "But when I can't keep it in any more, I just sit in my room and cry for hours. If my parents catch me crying, I just say hormones kicked in and sometimes that's true."

Yes, there's a lot of that. Endless expanses of loneliness and feelings of isolation. Sometimes, you don't even know that you're sad. Until you're already crying. And even then, you don't know why.

here's the closest I've ever come to explaining what it was like growing up, that black hole I carry with me that I don't know how to get rid of.

michael

when my brother rages
his face fills with blood and
his mouth snaps open
erupting
a high pitched scream
like an animal with its hind leg clenched
between the unflinching jaws of a steel-toothed trap

i restrain him by sitting on
his frail flailing body
feeling his primal fear twist and
claw against my overwhelming weight
as if subduing a six year old
whose brain will eternally reflect
only a small fraction of his age is
some heroic feat to be proud of

someone once asked me why we don’t put him in chains

i told her i would go home and ask my dad
but instead went straight to bed and prayed that
her parents would die in a violent accident
so that she too could know what it is to be helpless and flawed
in an thunderous world that turns a deaf ear to the tiniest voices

Liars/Cheaters on Internet Dating Sites

Hey guys...I really need your help. I'm writing something about the prevalence of liars and cheaters on internet dating sites (ie match.com, lavalife, etc.). Apparently, a lot of people have experienced finding out someone wasn't as advertised (looks, background, even gender), or finding out that the person they meet actually has a significant other but is using the site to find people on the side. So if you have any of these experiences, are someone who has done these things, or know of friends who have had these experiences, email me! Everything will be confidential and nothing will be judged. Thanks so much!!

This was one of the most well-thought out, well-articulated postings that really touched me in a while. Guys and girls, it's worth a read. Link provided by Avatar, who also has another link and some great commentary.

http://waiterrant.blogspot.com/2004/09/leftovers-i-was-hungry-at-start-of-my.html

Want a Pen Pal?

So I was surfing the net and I stumbled upon some interesting sites.

Be a Pen Pal to a Death Row Inmate

If you're more interested in someone you have a chance of seeing on the outside, check out:

http://www.thepamperedprisoner.com/

You may even find your future husband/wife/partner!

I can't even remember how I found that first site, but their profiles and webpages are quite interesting and worth reading. A part of me kind of wanted to know what each person was in for, but I guess if we were truly being non-judgmental, it wouldn't matter? I can't help it. I was still curious.

(by the way, it's nice that Canadians look out for our prisoners).

Do These Tights Make Me Look Gay?

http://pixyland.org/peterpan/index.html

I know some of you may already be familiar with this guy because he's quite famous, but for those of you who aren't, please begin your education ASAP. Make sure to check out his fashion gallery.

And for all you hot ladies out there, he's looking for his Tinkerbell!

Favorite Michael Stories

Someone recently wrote me and asked me to compile stories about my brother. I can't remember them all because I did a lot of drugs in the 60s and mostly, because he creates anecdotes so often, that I can't remember them all. So here are a few of my favorites, but if you remember some, remind me and I'll elaborate. Someday, I'm really going to write a book about him.

Car Alarms Are Really Sensitive

My mom is very conservative and does her best to shelter my brother from "getting the wrong idea" about things. So obviously, the subject of homosexuality is quite taboo. Last year, my mom and brother came down to Los Angeles to spend Thanksgiving with my friends and I. After dinner, we all kicked back and watched the O.C. In this episode, the son goes to his dad’s dealership with his friend to say hi to his dad. Unfortunately, when they show up, they catch his dad in the middle of a lover’s tryst with his business partner…another man. So on screen, the boys walk in just in time to see the dad grab his partner’s head and begin making out. Everyone in the room goes silent, afraid to move, painfully conscious of my mom and my brother.

So the men on TV start mugging down and Michael says, incredulously, “Are they…gay?” No one is brave enough to say anything.

Michael, in an attempt to dissociate, says, “Maybe not.” As the men are still mugging down.

Then he asks again, "Are they...gay?" No response.

Finally, the son freaks out and runs out of the dealership, but accidentally stumbles against a car, setting off the car alarm. The dad sees his son and yells, “WAIT!” and chases after him. Cut to commercial.

All of us sit quietly, not moving, enjoying a lovely awkward silence while I'm frantically trying to formulate some answer in my head that starts with, "You see Michael...when a man loves another man..."

But instead, my brother turns to me, wide-eyed, and says, “Boy Julia…car alarms are really sensitive!”

And that's all he had to say about the scene.

Michael and the Good Poo

The first time I brought this one boyfriend home, my brother took it upon himself to explain everything about our house and our routines in as much detail as possible. At one point, he leads my boyfriend into the kitchen and points to a plate of sliced cantaloupe. “We eat cantaloupe every morning because it's digestible and let’s you have good poo.” Hmm. Thanks, Michael.

Michael and the Preacher

At my grandfather’s funeral, all the adults sat in the main area, and the kids were cordoned off to sit in this side area, only visible to the preacher. I was assigned to the kids area to keep an eye on the kids (mostly just Michael) and to make sure they behaved. My brother kept wanting to talk to his cousins and the preacher kept looking over, glaring at us. Finally, he looked over and went, “Shhh.” And in no time flat, my brother has his hand in the air, middle finger extended, and is flipping off the preacher.

Michael and Urethra

Once when I went was up north, I got a call from my friend Urethra* (not her real name). She asked me, “Julia, are you on IM right now?” No, I say. I’m in my car. "So you weren’t just IMing with me.” Nope, I tell her. I probably left it on at home. Apparently, she was IMing me for advice about a relationship, and my brother started answering. She thought something was wrong when I kept writing back one word answers in ALL CAPS, but the clincher was when she laid out the situation that she was worried about and asked me what I thought, I wrote back, “DON’T WORRY. YOU’RE NOT FAT AT ALL.” Obviously, this had nothing to do with what she was talking about.

Michael and My Mother’s Drinking Problem

Lauren and I took Michael to get ice cream one day. I saw him scratch himself in a manly place and I shot a look at him and he quickly retracted his hand, saying, “Oops! I know I’m not supposed to do that in public.” Then he quickly turns to Lauren and says, “Lauren…”

I think he’s going to tell her that his mother tells him he’s not allowed to scratch himself in public so I try to head him off by saying, “MICHAEL.”

He immediately gets defensive and says right back to me, “JULIA. .... Lauren…”

I say, “Michael. Don’t say it.”

He says, “I’m NOT. Lauren...”

I say: “Michael! Do NOT say anything inappropriate!”

He says: “JULIA! I’m NOT going to say anything inappropriate.”

Then he turns to Lauren and says, “Lauren…my mother has a drinking problem.”

Holy FUCK.

He meant that my mom dribbles when she drinks out of a glass.

Michael and the Mango

When my mom, brother and I went to Mexico last year, they both bought these mangos speared on 3 ft. sticks. My mom was sitting down with the stick propped straight up, so she looked like a queen sitting nobly, with a staff. So I wanted to take a picture of her but Michael wanted to be in the picture. I told him he couldn’t. So he got huffy and moved away. I should have known that Michael would be determined to be in the picture in some way, because as I looked in the viewfinder of the camera and centered the picture, I saw this hand with a mango stick slooooowly creep into the bottom right of the picture.

Michael Says No to Lesbians

I was once bored and told my brother that his mom was a lesbian. I told him that if he didn’t believe me, to call his dad and ask. So he calls my dad and says, “Is mom a lesbian?” My dad says, “Yes.” Michael just says, “Ooooh” and doesn’t bring it up again. A few days later, Brian was making fun of me and called me a lesbian in front of Michael. And Michael gets upset and says, “JULIA. You can’t be a lesbian. We can’t have two lesbians in the family.”

Michael and August’s Sex Life

When Michael was staying with me last year, I had a post it up on the fridge that said, “For July, No More Bullshit.” I was on the phone with a student one night and saw Michael come into my office, write something on a post-it and then leave. A few moments later, Brian came in, put a post-it in front of me saying, “I thought you might like to know what your brother just put up on the fridge.” It said, “For August…No More Sex Life.”

Don’t Touch Michael’s Food

I was home last Halloween and wouldn’t let anyone see my costume until the actual day. I had promised Michael that I would show up for his school Halloween party, so I got dressed up as a Blaxploitation chick (huge fro, big sunglasses, a lot of cleavage and a nose ring) and went to his school. I found him camped out in front of the food table with a plate piled high. I walked up to him and said, “Yo wassup bro, can I get some’a that food?” He discreetly angles his body so that it’s between me and his plate, averts his eyes and says, “No.” I say, “C’mon, man, I’m starvin’ here!” He shakes his head and turns away. I say, “Just give me a bite of that sandwich,” and he turns around and screams, “I SAID NO!!!!” I start cracking up and he realizes it’s me and starts laughing. I say, “Can I have some of your food?” And he says, “No” and walks away.

People Who Only Believe What They Want to Believe

Okay, I think I figured out what crawled up my butt in regards to the movie, Closer. It has to do with one of the final scenes, when one of the characters is so convinced of something that happened, that he demands the "truth," but won't take any other answer other than the one in his head as the truth. Including the actual truth. Even though he's wrong.

He was so adamant and aggressive that there was no way around it, so the character being harassed just admits to it, even though it's not true. And I felt so emotionally and psychologically trapped and claustrophobic from the impact of that scene, that I just wanted to run out of the theater and throw a chair through a plate glass window or something just to relieve that inner pressure and discomfort.

One of my biggest triggers has always been when I tell the truth about something and people don't believe me, acting like they know I'm lying. Being falsely accused, even with the smallest things. It's even worse if they're smug about it. They've already made up their minds about it, and there's nothing that you can say to change their minds, even if everything you say and have said was the truth. I used to flip out when I was a kid if I was accused of something I didn't do. Because you feel so helpless...there is nothing you can say or do that can change that person's mind, because they've already got it made up and it's the only "truth" that they'll accept. I would get so angry, like, if you're just going to assume I did this, I may as well have done it. And it makes me want to go out and do something bad. Because for some reason, Truth is sacred to me, for better for worse, and I can be quite vigilant about it. While Truth can be complex or in the gray area sometimes, I feel strongly that if someone is adamantly holding on to something that is clearly not true, especially if it comes to their perceptions of me or my actions, then I've essentially been pegged into a hole that I don't belong in with no way to get out.

I'm feeling trapped and desperate just talking about this.

It can be something small, like someone thinking you're just making up an excuse because you don't want to hang out, or that you're mad at them even when you're not. Or something big, like someone claiming that you stole something. Because you essentially have no way to prove otherwise if this person has made up his or her mind that this is the truth, even though they're wrong.

Maybe I was falsely accused of a crime in a past life and punished for it or something. But all I know is that consistently over my life, nothing makes me feel more afraid, more helpless, more angry, more violent, than when people don't believe me when I'm telling the truth or when people accuse me of something that isn't true.

v. funny

Oh, forgot to mention something disturbing, for those of you who are tracking the downward spiral of my mental health.

Each morning of the past 4-5 days, I've woken up confused and bothered, feverishly repeating the name over and over...Zydrunas Ilgauskas.

For those of you who don't know who this is, let me show you why this obsessive randomness is so bizarre and disturbing.

http://sports.espn.go.com/nba/players/profile?statsId=3121

(Oh! He's a fellow Gemini! I didn't know that)

Thank God it's just the name and not the man that's stuck in my head.

Big 7 ft balding Eastern European guy...PLEASE get out of my head...

Weekend Recap

It's kind of early for a weekend recap, as I have about 5 more waking hours within which I could easily get into all sorts of trouble that will end up not being covered because I chose to recap early. But seriously...I'm bored right now and have nothing to do.

So I've finished the 5th dvd of 24 (Season 1), with one more to go (I am so freakin' irritated with the Kim character and storyline). Unfortunately, that last dvd is in some Netflix warehouse, because I've been lazy about sending back my dvds, so at earliest, I won't get the last installment until Wednesday. I'm comtemplating just running out to the video store and getting it. I need to learn moderation. Here I am, spending extra money on a dvd I've technically already payed for that I'll get in a few days, while sometimes, I can hold rented videos for months on end. In fact, I think I currently owe the video store over $40 in late fees, which is why I've been avoiding them.

Posted new pictures up on the He Looks Like Game. Quite proud of finding the most recent pic. Feel a bit diabolical. I hope he's no one's grandfather or dad or boyfriend.

I think Closer messed me up a little. I have that Damien Rice album that the title song is on, and I wanted to put it on today but was suddenly stricken with anxiety. I don't want to think about the film anymore. I think the wonderful thing about it, is how well it pinned down the complexity and brutality of human relationships. But it shows us that no matter how much we analyze or confront, there really isn't any answer. It's like those questions of, "If you were on a sinking ship, and could only choose to save one family member, who would it be?" These kinds of questions can drive you crazy, as there is no answer that isn't tragic.

It was raining out here and I loved it. I love the rain, which we don't get enough of in Los Angeles. I went to the gym for a little bit and then wanted to grab lunch and read. I was craving a turkey spinach salad from Literati, but when I showed up, I saw the car of a former friend whose family and I are entangled in a messy lawsuit. I haven't seen her or talked to her since all this went down so I decided that I'd hit up another place. I wanted to go to Toast, to hopefully catch a C-list celebrity incident that would make me "really uncomfortable," but they were closed so I ended up at the Farmer's Market. Had a smoked salmon/scrambled egg crepe. Still not a big fan of crepes. Went to Border's to read. Realized I forgot to bring Bridget Jones so I read about the psychology of child psychopaths. Fell asleep. As I always do when in a seated position in a public place. Drove home. I love the sound of rain falling on the rooftop, the swishing of windshield wipers, and good ol' oldies on the radio. "I'm so tired of being alone..."
Yeah...but look at it this way...at least you don't have to constantly be aware of someone else and making sure they're content. Everything is a compromise. When you're alone, you're lonely and wish you had companionship. When you're in a relationship, you fight for your privacy and space. I've decided, Little Julia that is in this world wants companionship. Big Julia who is of this world and serves this world wants to be alone to do the things she's supposed to be doing. And no, Little Julia is not a euphemism for my penis. His name is Phil.

Thought of the Day:

The only things you can ever be sure of in any given moment, are what you feel and what you want. And even those things are questionable.

Looks like my Michigan Wolverines will be playing Brian's UT Longhorns at the Rose Bowl. Oh, the fallout that is soon to come within the confines of Club Manic...

I just love Clive Owen.

Just saw Closer, which I've been eagerly awaiting since I first saw the preview months ago. Personally, I loved it. I understand that the play was probably amazing and it was nearly a direct adaptation so it's not necessarily amazing by cinematic standards, but the performances were outstanding and I loved the dialogue and the handling of its themes. One scene, in which Clive Owen's character demands to know every detail of his wife's (Julia Roberts) extra-marital sexual encounter, was so brutally honest and painful that I really felt traumatized. Like watching your parents beat the shit out of each other. The whole movie was brutally honest. It has to be one of the most depressing movies I've ever seen, but I loved it. I'm just a masochist that way.

The film makes you feel like relationships are pointless if we are looking to be fulfilled in every way, or are expecting permanence. Because at the end of the day, if you want to have a relationship with another human being, there is bound to be pain and disappointment, as all human beings are fallible and it's just what you have to expect and accept. But we always expect more out of people--more love, more devotion, more honesty, more attention--than any human being can possibly give for as long as we want it (forever).

In the movie, Jude Law has an affair with Julia Roberts and the two leave their respective partners to be with each other. The two abandoned partners go through their own personal hell. But when Julia goes to get her husband to sign the divorce papers, he says he'll only do it if she sleeps with him one last time, so that she can be his whore and he can get over her. So she does it, but tells Jude about it because they had always promised to be honest with each other. But of course, he can't deal with this betrayal.

Here's the funny thing that I understand. Yes, they are both guilty of cheating on their partners. But their reasoning was that they were both in unhappy relationships when they were truly in love with each other. So they both face that "honesty" and leave their partners for each other to start this partnership of love on a fated level. Nevermind that it was born in dishonesty and infidelity, their newly born love affair is now pure. But when Julia's character sleeps with her husband in order for things to be better for them, this is a betrayal of this relationship, and that's why Jude can't forgive her. Yes, it's both hypocritical and understandable. Life is so much more complex than black and white ethics. Emotions can not be rationalized and rationalization can not completely dissect emotions.

It's amazing how distrust will undermine any relationship and every relationship. "I'm waiting for you to leave me." This was a theme in the movie. One that everyone can probably relate to. How many times in your life have you found yourself looking for the moment when the other shoe drops and the relationship ends? If it's not you, then it's gonna be them. Because there's only going to be one relationship that doesn't end, and that's the one that you just happen to be in when you die. So what do we do? I think we have to temper our expectations to make them more reasonable. But what about that need to rest? To be able to know that the person you love isn't going anywhere? Why do human beings have to be so fallible? Or why do we have such a vulnerable need for security?

I hope I never fall for anyone again. I honestly do. Because while it's amazing while it lasts, it's terrible trying to recover from the disappointment and loss. Like getting off drugs. Euphoria followed by a devastating withdrawal process in order to get it out of your system so that you can return to feeling normal again. Relationships work best as a secondary system of support, not as a defining measure of who you are.

Happy Stupid Celebrity Gossip Eyewitness Day!!

Today is officially Stupid Celebrity Gossip Eyewitness Day! While this isn't a national holiday, Dec. 3rd is a day to be celebrated, according to me. This special day is in honor of all the stupid people (mostly in LA), who will say the most asinine things to be quoted as the unnamed "eyewitness" in celebrity gossip blurbs.

Example:

The New York Post says that Mary-Kate Olsen's ex-boyfriend, David Katzenberg (son of DreamWorks tycoon Jeffrey), flew to Los Angeles last weekend in hopes of bumping into her and perhaps wooing her back.

But Katzenberg's plan supposedly hit a major snag when he had an ill-timed run-in with Mary-Kate's current squeeze, businessman Ali Fatourechi.

And the Stupid Celebrity Gossip Eyewitness says! :

"They were both at [the L.A. restaurant] Toast, sitting across from each other at separate tables," an eyewitness tells the paper. "They were staring each other down -- it was really uncomfortable."

Ooooh. Deep thoughts. By non-celebrity attention whores.

So in honor of this special day, let's all proudly show our colors as Stupid Celebrity Gossip Eye Witnesses!

Here are some eyewitnesses in all their glory:

-Dennis Quaid was spotted at a light in West LA driving a late-model metallic blue 7-series BMW. According to an eyewitness, "When the light turned green, Dennis did not abide by merging rules and instead, sped up to merge in front of me instead of behind me. It was really uncomfortable."

-Queen Latifah was recently seen dining at [the LA restaurant] Toast, exhibiting behavior that shocked fellow diners. Said one eyewitness, "She ordered the salad/soup combo, but she wanted her dressing on the side with no carrots and extra croutons, but she wanted the salad served before the soup with a decaf nonfat vanilla latte to follow. And then she asked for a lowfat blueberry-lemon muffin to go! To go! What? She can't eat at the table like the rest of us human beings? The most atrocious thing was when the waitress cam back and asked if she needed anything else, and the 'Queen' quickly whipped out her credit card and asked, "Do you take American Express?" Are you KIDDING me? Who the hell does she think she is??? There were CHILDREN in the restaurant! Needless to say, and I think everyone else in the restaurant will agree with me, the whole episode left a very bad taste in my mouth."

-Ben Stiller was seen at a concession stand of a movie theater, looking puzzled at the menu. "It was like he didn't know what he wanted," said one eyewitness who was in line behind him. "I mean, there are only so many things that a movie theater offers. It's not like there's gonna be any surprises. And the longer he stared at it, the more it started creeping me out. And his wife just stood there and didn't say anything! Looks like either someone's on the verge of a breakdown, or a marriage is on the rocks to me..."

-Michelle Pfeiffer was seen in the Palisades picking up her son from his speech therapy appointment. According to one eye witness, "Let's just say, she was driving a car, but it most definitely wasn't a minivan. And when she pulled out of the driveway, she couldn't even be bothered to put on her turn signal! I'm not judgmental, but I think most people would agree with me that someone who hasn't had a box office hit in years doesn't get to act like a *$&@ing diva."

-Adam Sandler was recently spotted playing basketball at a public park in Westwood. One eyewitness observed, "He was wearing a heavy cotton-blend golf shirt while playing basketball. Who does that? And it was ugly, too. Frankly, I was appalled. And you know what else I think? Closet case..."

- At a Lakers game last month, Jack Nicholson was overheard mumbling, "His beady little eyes were dwarfed by his superior forehead and further deanimated by his angular, slacked jaw. But his skin was soft and translucent, like a baby rabbit's ass. Mmmm...baby rabbit ass. Wouldn't YOU like to know where I've hidden the baby rabbit ass, you beady-eyed robot man! Don't test me, kid. I want to wear your skin..." While the official word from Jack's people is that the actor was merely utilizing doctor-prescribed peyote in order to finish an erotic-western novel in honor of National Novel Writing Month, others believe he was actually commenting on former teen actor James Van der Beek, who happened to also be in attendance that night. Van der Beek, on the other hand, was apparently causing quite a stir. An eyewitness at the game confided, "At one point, the ball flew out of bounds and hit that Dawson's Creek kid on his forehead, but he didn't even blink. Not even a change of expression! And by the way, I saw him eating nachos AND garlic fries along with a bunless hot dog. Atkins my ass..."

-Ron Jeremy was seen backstage an Ashlee Simpson concert, fervently pitching a coming-of-age romantic-comedy to her agent. Kindly, he took the time to pose for pictures with fans and gawkers. But according to one eyewitness who wasn't so impressed by the man's numerous film credits, "He smelled funny. Kinda like a freezer-burned corndog."

-Zach Braff and Mandy Moore were spotted in a Century City movie theater canoodling at an opening-night screening of Kinsey. Despite the fact that the extraordinary actor turned writer/director triple threat has used his new found fame to snag (shag?) younger post-teen up-and-comers, the fame has not gone to the young man's massive orange-on-a-toothpick head. He was overheard graciously agreeing to have his picture taken with a group of fans (even though this promise must have slipped his mind as he and Mandy sprinted out of the theater as soon as the credits rolled). Though one eyewitness noticed, "He shushed someone in the theater for laughing too loud, even though I could have sworn his guffaws were the ones overpowering everyone else's in the theater over the clit joke." When asked about Mandy Moore's reaction to the scene, the eyewitness recounted, "I don't think she noticed. I think Peter Saargard's flaccid penis magnified on a large movie theater screen was making her uncomfortable."

-Sources say, Gary Busey was found passed out in an alley behind a Hollywood dive bar last weekend, laying in a pool of his own vomit and urine with his penis exposed. When Robert Downey Jr. was questioned as to why he was found behind a dumpster only six feet away with an empty syringe needle still hanging from his arm, he was quoted as saying, "I suck dick for crack. What's your point?" An eyewitness at the scene told this reporter, "My Secret Santa got me Robert Downey Jr.'s CD for Christmas last year. I tried to sell it to the used CD store and they gave me a buck sixty for it. I used that money to buy a Mounds bar and a taquito at 7-11. The taquito burned my tongue. I guess I ate it too fast." Calls to either celebrity's publicist were not returned.

You Want More?

31. I get scared when I'm laying in the dark and things are too quiet.
32. I always sleep on my side with a pillow between my legs. Ever since I was a little kid.
33. I propositioned the lead singer of a somewhat well-known band and he was willing, but I chickened out.
34. I'm obsessed with my arms and like them when they're cut.
35. Sometimes when I look people in the eye, I can immediately tell which ones occasionally cry themselves to sleep. And all I want to do is give them a hug.
36. My hands shake when I get nervous.
37. I once offered to read tarot cards for a stranger and she would always call me, asking me if she would gain custody of her kids. And I told her to work out her own feelings first about the divorce, even though I had a dark feeling of dread that she was unraveling and going to hurt her estranged husband.
38. I think women lie too much.
39. I think men lie too much.
40. I think we're all trapped on this earth.
41. I resent gravity.
42. I think Lee Harvey Oswald killed Kennedy.
43. I think there was more to our beloved ex-president than we'd care to know.
44. I think there were quite a few nights when Jesus sat alone into the wee hours of morning, staring at the sky, wondering what the hell he was doing here and freaked out that maybe he'd gotten in over his head, wondering if maybe all the things he was saying to people was idealistic bullshit, because he was just as scared of this world as everyone else.
45. I wish I wasn't so afraid of life.
46. I constantly crave Gatorade.
47. I think my brother is gay.
48. I think we hold all of our loved ones as emotional prisoners.
49. I once sat for hours watching a line of ants devour a peach until there was nothing left except a completely clean, pock-marked pit. And I felt a deep sense of loss when the peach was gone.
50. I get severely depressed when people try to get too close to me.
51. I get severely depressed when people go away.
52. I wish there was a pill you could pop for loneliness.
53. My scariest recurring nightmare is the one where my teeth fall out.
54. Sometimes when I hug someone or talk to someone, I'll just know that this is the last time I'll ever see them.
55. I envy you all. All of you out there who don't really exist.
56. There is no time to worry about the inevitable.
57. I think about it all the time.
58. But I still don't know what it is.
59. Do you?

No, #21 is true. It woke me up in the middle of the night and told me to email my mom, telling me exactly what to say, and that email caught her at a moment when she was entrenched in thoughts of killing herself.

How's that for intervention?

I have to go to Portland. Colin just told me that during winter, the people just nest and fuck up there when the weather gets cold.

Speaking of Confessions...Pt II

1. I listen to cheesy love songs from the 70s 80s and 90s
2. I wrote secret admirer letters to one of my instructors in college out of sheer boredom and the fact that he was extremely unattractive, so I thought it would brighten up his day.
3. I have only 2 more signs to make out with before I've made out with at least 1 person of every sign.
4. I used to dial up random numbers on weekend nights because I have a theory that people are so lonely, they'll talk to anyone.
5. I have videos that would ruin any political career that I could possibly aspire to.
6. I'm a complete asshole and don't treat anyone well.
7. I once beat up a boy because I liked him and didn't know what to do with those feelings.
8. I was sexually assaulted by someone I was dating.
9. Sometimes when I lie awake at night, I wonder, if I knew that I could get away with it in the eyes of God and the law, if there is someone I would happily kill.
10. I slept with a guy who looked like my ex-boyfriend just to prove that I wasn't afraid of my ex-boyfriend anymore.
11. I once told someone I loved him just to get him to sleep with me.
12. I am terrified of cops.
13. I am homophobic towards lesbians.
14. I wake up every morning wondering if someone I love will die today.
15. I am distrusting of people with blue eyes.
16. I can not be in an enclosed space alone with anyone, male or female, without being scared of being raped.
17. I have the magical power of turning guys gay.
18. I have never kissed another girl.
19. I watched an older relative of mine cheat on her husband as I silently raged.
20. If there were no such things as STDs, I would devote my life to having sex all of the time.
21. I have talked to a ghost.
22. Getting people to reveal their inner most thoughts is like sex for me.
23. I have a doctor fetish because I have a thing for people who smell and look "clean."
24. I wish I could know what sex is like for a man.
25. I'm terrified that people secretly think I'm dumb.
26. I won't date Asians because statistically, they have the smallest penises.
27. I'd like to start a cult.
28. I think Jesus just had a good publicist.
29. I think women need to stop thinking with their hearts, and start thinking with their penises.
30. I am drunk as I write this.

But not all of these are true.

11/30 Recap

Oh hell yeah! 11/30. The last day of November. It's beautiful, isn't? Let's get rid of these dark thoughts and move on to sunnier days. It's been a hell of a month, hasn't it? We had to look at the underbelly of things. Of our lives. Our relationships. Who are we? What is love? What the hell are we doing in this place, granted with the sudden, unexpected responsibility of life?

God, I had to face some ghosts. Didn't you? But you know what? At the end of the day, there's always something to live for. Wanting to know the next page of this book.To be surprised by the possibility of love around the corner. Of the good in people. Of a day when you can feel that what you do and who you are really matters in this world. And we all got through it. And that's seriously something awesome.

So I'm sitting here, doing some writing, listening to my Ambulance LTD CD. It's so, so good. It's what Keane is to Brian. Something about it, I just emotionally gravitate towards it. And I was just thinking that...life is good. I love the little roller coasters that life brings. Each month with its flavors, its sweet highs and richer lows.

I've been reading a wide variety of books lately and I love how all these people, these writers , have such different voices. Personalities. You end up trying to imagine what kind of person the writer is. It's kind of why I like blogs. You see the inner workings of so many different types of people. It's a way of psychically traveling, experiencing far away things, mystical things. It's hypnotic, the way looking in a kaleidoscope was mesmerizing for us when we were kids.

I feel terrible about my work situation. Everything in life is just a relationship, you know? All relationships are degreed mirrors of each other. The dynamic between my company and I are like, they want me to care more and invest more of my attention on them, but I just won't. I can't find it in me because I just don't love them and even when I try, my heart is not in it. And so they're offering me gifts to get me to commit to them, but I just can't. And it's not fair to string them along. But I don't know how to say to them that I'm so, so sorry, but I just don't care enough about the company. They're so afraid I'll leave. But I'm just not into it and I think it's dragging them down. Fuckwittage. Like Helen Fielding would say. I feel guilty because I feel like I'm fucking with them, that sensitive bunch. Nice, nice people though.

Ah, I'm going to try harder. Because I want to be fair to them.

Thought of the day:

It's the people who possess the most fear who also possess the most sorcerous and instinctual ability to scare. For me, this was kind of a scary thought to mull over.

Speaking of Confessions...

So I was on www.grouphug.us looking at confessions and I found this one:

There's these two guys in my office, both in wheel chairs. By accident I shouted "here comes the 'other one' "

...and I giggled myself silly because it's totally something I would do. So I was telling Bohr about this one time, when we were filming Cojones, I needed a midget. So I approached this really short guy who I knew through the comedy troupe (and incidentally, who was dating a friend of mine), and I went to lengths to convince him to come play "the devil" for me. So we're on set and he's in a little red pajama one-piece jumpsuit with feet and he thinks he's playing the devil. But I'm really focused at the task at hand and end up blurting out, "Okay, I need the midget." And from the other side of the room, I hear, "Oh is THAT what I am?!?!?"

I felt TERRIBLE.

Okay, so I just talked to the car dealer and worked it all out. Apparently the $1,000 that was paypalled from my mom's credit card was a deposit for a $40,000 car. Nice... Michael is lucky he's autistic. Otherwise, he'd be getting a beating when my dad gets home. But I talked to the guy and he said he'd refund the deposit if I just left him some positive feedback, which I just did. While I was on my brother's account, I noticed that he had bids out on 4 other cars. And a $9,000 CD changer.

Goodness.

These are the dangers of teaching kids about finances using monopoly money. They have no concept of the true value of money.

Brian is out of town tonight but no anonymous sex for me. I'm on hour 11am-12pm of 24 (Season 1). I've been watching those dvds for DAYS and I'm not even halfway through.

I'm reading Bridget Jones's Diary. It's really funny. I was actually reading it at Starbuck's last night, but was so tired, I kept falling asleep. But then whenever a customer would laugh or say something loudly at the counter, I would suddenly looking up at them, really alertly and wide-eyed like I was intrigued by their conversation, trying to pretend I wasn't asleep. The same way you do at school (or, um...work) when you're trying to look up enough or shift around enough to look like you're awake and reading so you don't get into trouble. But every time I did that, I would remember that no one gives a fuck if I'm asleep because I'm not in school (or, um...work). But the funny thing was that the guy sitting next to me must have thought I was awake because every time I looked up, he would try to engage me in conversation. And I would just stare at him blankly because my brain was still asleep. This little program was just what my body has been trained to do, since I'm a pro at falling asleep in places without getting caught.

In other news, my brother has apparently bought a car on Ebay. My mom noticed a paypal charge of $1000 on her credit card last week and mentioned it to me when she picked me up from the airport. I told her that paypal is like a wire transfer and we figured out that it must have been Michael. We questioned him and he said he bought a Mercedes on Ebay. We were like, "A toy or a real car?" A real car, he says. Holy fuck.

I told my mom to prosecute my brother for fraud. Just to scare him. Because he's got all of our credit card numbers memorized and he's always using them to buy random things on the internet.

I'm so glad to be home. Not that I wasn't glad to be with my family up north. But there's something to be said about being back in your own place. Emphasis on the "own."

I know it wasn't as bad as I feel it was, but I feel really crappy for some of the things I was saying over the weekend. I guess I've been very frustrated with the way my body feels, and I've been saying things that make my family worry. Especially my mom, when she is already feeling very lonely these days. She said to me today, "You always say how scared you are of losing me someday, but don't you ever think that I'm also scared of losing you?" And I know I worry my brother when I get really moody and dark. Pain makes you frustrated which makes you desperate which makes you unable to be present for the people who care about you most. And I think I'm frustrated because writing/creativity has always been my outlet but for some reason, that part of me is broken right now and it's driving me crazy. So I don't know what to do and I'm starting to feel desperate. Worried that things won't get better. I'm just trying to relax and breathe and ride this out. But sometimes I wish I could be more emotionally available to the people who love me the most when I get like this. I get so distant. It makes me feel like a monster when I breakdown and can't control myself. The way I disappear. The way my heart goes numb when my edges get sharp. Edward Scissorhands. You cut the very ones you want to love the most. Just by being you. So you make them stay away for their own good. But that hurts them anyway.

You just can't win.

Right now is not a good time to get too close to me. Not until I figure all this out. There's got to be a way out of this corner. Just give me some time and space...I'm trying to figure this out so we can all get out of this alive. But that's the funny thing about life, isn't it? No one gets out alive.

I picked up an album by Ambulance LTD. You guys should check them out. Kind of retro pop/rock. Very indie fun. Like something from a Wes Anderson film soundtrack. I love the 3rd song, Anecdote. Very, very cool. #7 (Sugar Pill) is how I feel.

I also finished Survivor, and it talks a lot about the things I've been thinking about lately. Synchronicity. I have a knack for picking up a book and it turns out to deal with exactly the themes I'm currently thinking about. I also read Naked Pictures of Famous People, which is a collection of essays by Jon Stewart. It was okay. I didn't really think it was that funny.

Maybe all this is just projection. Maybe I'm really mad at myself right now. Maybe that's why I've suddenly gone cold and am pushing people away. Punishing the people who try to get too close as a way of punishing myself? But why would I be so angry with myself right now?

Saturday Night Ramblings

An artist without inspiration, may as well be dead.

I'm so damn cranky tonight. My back flared up today and that can always trigger me to be extremely irritable because I'm scared the rest of my life will be like this, dealing with this pain (its this intense pain that shoots from my glute to my ankle and I can't bend over without it being excruciating). You really don't think about how physical discomfort can affect your general mood and happiness level, but I think it really does, especially if it becomes a life constant. A coworker made a comment earlier this week that really bugged me...he said that when he first met me last year, I was really focused on things. Life. Very driven. And now, it seems like I just don't really care about anything anymore. I've checked out. And I just sighed, agreed and said, I've lost my will to live. I think I surprised both of us with that statement. I hadn't realized it. But hearing myself say it, I realized it was true. Now before you guys start calling up hotlines to report me, I'll say very honestly--I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. It's just a feeling of not really looking forward to things anymore, because I know that tomorrow morning, I'll wake up and that pain will be there, as it was yesterday and the day before. There hasn't been a single moment in over a year when I was painfree, and I realized last week, that I can't even remember what it felt like to not be in some level of pain. And God, that's really depressing. Sometimes I think about the limits of the human body, and I get angry. I think that's why I fetishize robots. I wish there were robot parts that could replace my malfunctioning ones and fix me. Regardless of all the things I fear though, I still hold out hope that this will get better. I'm too young and strong to be stuck like this.

In other news, my senseless cousin is dating a complete loser. In his 20's (she was 17 when they met). No job, doesn't go to school, deals cards at his aunt's illegal gambling house or something and posts crass comments about my cousin on his website. She sees it and somehow, thinks it's cute. Yeah, she'll grow out of it, the relationship will inevitably come to an end, but it still sucks. My cousin Bohr and I were waiting for her to show up to this dinner party thing tonight because we wanted to have a talk with her, but she didn't show up. We've already had a "talk" with the boyfriend on the phone, inviting him out for "ice cream" so we could all get to know each other. Obviously, he was too chicken to come. Perhaps the jokes of breaking his legs didn't help? (I'm just kidding. But seriously, if he messes with my cousin, we do have baseball bats). Bohr was saying that things like this make him hope he doesn't have daughters. I've always secretly hoped that I never have daughters. So much to worry about.

(ps--my mom is now singing Cher on karaoke right now. "Do you believe in life after love?")

On the way home from the dinner party tonight, I was thinking about how a friend used to tell me that if she could get God to send me a soulmate, she would do anything for him to send me a guy who would make me happy. I thought about how, every time she said that, I would appreciate the intentions but I would get really sad because it made me feel like she didn't have any idea who I was. That having a lover, such a superficial thing, would fulfill me. Because I don't search the world for a lover. I search the world for a mentor--someone who can help enlighten me and teach me, who can lead me. So that I can shake this feeling of always being lost.

Sometimes when people want you in their life, the love they give you is conditional. They want you there in a certain way, on certain terms, and sometimes, those are terms that you just aren't capable of. And that's the worst thing. When they don't realize their feelings are conditional.

My brother has been tense all week because our dad is in China playing basketball, and Michael has been down about his being away and not calling. I think my dad needed a break from certain stressors in his life. But it sucks when my brother doesn't understand that when my dad turns his back on him, it's not because of him. Hell, I understand but it doesn't make a hell of a lot of emotional sense to me either.

(My mom is now singing that Barbie song by Aqua, I think. "I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world." Deep breath, Julia. It's gonna be okay.)

So I’ve spent 3 days and 2 nights at home and things are still tolerable, despite the fact that my mom is currently yowling Bryan Adams on our karaoke machine. I, myself, have entertained her with a brooding version of Superstar by the Carpenters before escaping to where I’m most comfortable…in front of a computer.

I went to see The Grudge tonight with Julius, a brilliant illustrator trying to get into animation, and my brother. My brother really wanted to go with us even though he handles horror movies even more poorly than I do. The movie was terrible—it seemed like the director was more focused on what to do that would scare an audience held captive in a theater, rather than what would make sense of the plot. Lots of creepy things jumping out at you. Luckily, there were plenty of vocal African American women in the audience (you know the type) and so their quips gave us plenty to laugh at. In fact, the whole theater was Mystery Science Theatering the movie so it was fun.

When the end credits began rolling, I asked Michael if he was okay. He said yeah, but then bolted out of his seat and out of the theater, like someone about to puke. I think he was really freaked out. I felt bad. Michael wants to follow me everywhere, and sometimes he’ll end up going to places that he hates.

I’ve been going to the gym and playing basketball. Played a five-on-five game the day before Thanksgiving and it was hell because I’ve got this sprained ankle and the back issue and I haven’t run in over 6 months. But I tried and my moves were slow (my crossover was pathetic. and painful!). My line? 1-3, 1 rebound, 1 assist, 1 steal, 1 turnover. Pretty weak. But my guy went scoreless so that was good. I was always a great defensive player. Loved playing defense. No baskets ever scored on me by my defense assignments during the one season I was healthy enough to play in high school. But I also fouled a lot. And was regarded as a mean player and hated around the league. But I didn’t care. I did my job.

Which speaking of, I kind of understand where Ron Artest comes from (read this article). On the court, you’re intense when it’s all you’ve got. When this game is the only outlet you have for all your anger, all that is wrong in your life. And all you care about, is to feel like you’re good at something, for something. And here you are, the only place where you can dominate, when outside, the world makes you its bitch. So you make up in heart and desire on the court, what gets beaten out of you off of it. Yeah, a lot of coaches could tell I had a lot of anger. But I got things done. Gave 110% at all times and demanded that the people around me did as well. It was heart that won games, no matter the level of talent. And I scared the fuck out of the other teams because I was strong and aggressive and played every minute of every game like it was life or death.

Speaking of anger, Mike, the ugliest guy I’ve ever dated (both inside and out), said once that he was afraid to have kids…he was afraid he’d beat them. And I said something noncommittal like, “Oh…no…you…probably wouldn’t” when I was actually thinking, “Dude, I hope you never have kids.” He was a textbook abusive, borderline personality. A terrible human being, even though I was always encouraging him, telling him he was a good person in hopes that he would be able to see himself that way and work towards it. I was hoping he would break the cycle so he didn’t fuck up other people on his path towards self-destruction. It was worth a try, as fruitless and frustrating as it was. Are there are lot of abusive people out there in the world? Or do I just have a propensity for coming into contact with them? Just want to break that cycle…too many innocent kids are getting fucked up in this world.

Things have been heavy lately and I’m just trying to ride this period out. November is always the worst month of the year for me. It’s like being dunked underwater. Completely dark and suffocating. And you just have to hold your breath long enough until it’s okay to resurface.

Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. And yeah, it’s such a cliché, but clichés exist because they’re true. Sometimes it’s about risk management. If you can see clearly enough, you look ahead and predict different outcomes of situations, and then you work towards the one that is better, with less consequences and more benefits. Sometimes there are no benefits and you have to go towards the one with the mildest consequences. Whitney is always saying that happiness is the most amount of pleasure with the least amount of pain. And if you think about it, if something gives you a great amount of pleasure along with a great amount of pain, by the Whitney Meter, it comes out to zero. Whereas, if something gives you a moderate amount of pleasure, with a smidgeon of pain, then it’s like a +1.8* (measurement is an approximation. ;). And by quantifying it, you can see that it is actually better for you. Anyway, math aside, I just want my life to be clean right now. Quiet.

Being home, in our haunted house. It’s funny, neither my brother nor I will sleep in the guest room. I told you guys before, there’s something wrong with the energy of that room. I’ll either sleep with my mom in her bed, or in my brother’s bed and he’ll sleep on the floor, but no matter what, no one is willing to rotate over to the guest room. It’s always noticeably colder and draftier in that room, even though there’s no logical reason for it. I used to lock myself in that closet in the dark to punish myself when I was a kid. Trying to toughen myself up by putting myself in the scariest place/situation imaginable. Whenever I thought I was weak, because I hated myself when I was weak. Made myself learn to detach from fear. Now in hindsight, I don’t know if that was a fucked up, sadomasochistic thing to do, or something that ended up making me stronger in the long run. I really do think that no one can be crueler to you than you can be to yourself. And no one can mistreat you unless you give them permission. Unfortunately, we so often give people permission to mistreat us, without realizing it. Ah...we must all be careful of our own unconscious agendas.

Okay, it’s now 2:51 am. Time for bed.

Happy luring-the-red-man-into-a-false-sense-of-security-before-we-poison-them-with-moonshine-infect-them-with-smallpox-and-rip-off-their-land-for-beads Day!

I've got the turkey in the oven, the praline yams are a'bubblin'. Today's menu features:

South Pacific Turkey Sliders on a Bed of Arugula
Roasted Thyme Turkey

Honey Glazed Ham
Eddie's Famous Green Bean Casserole (secret ingredients: ground turkey and tator tots)
Praline Yams
Garlic Parmesan Mash Potatoes
Cornbread Stuffing

Cranberry Walnut Chutney
Pecan Pie
Pumpkin Pie

...all made from scratch by myself from early this morning. I'm exhausted.

If anyone is in or around Fremont, drop on by tomorrow because we're gonna have crazy amounts of leftovers.

Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!

I'm watching the Warriors game, and it's a tense 4th quarter in which they're completely blowing the game after building up a nice lead. So the situation is serious, the game is almost over and it looks like the Hornets are about to tie or win the game. The players set up, Warriors possession, and Mike Dunleavy Jr. goes to inbound the ball. The station cutting together shots of players, looking intense, from different angles, building the drama. And then the announcer says, kind of amazed, "Thunder just knocked over Dunleavy. The MASCOT just knocked over Dunleavy."

And they quickly cut to a wide angle of the players, and you see Thunder strutting away, playing to the crowd, and Mike wobbling a little bit and looking around like, "What the fuck? Did that really just happen?"

I wish the camera had been on that scene when it happened, rather than just catching the tail end of it. I thought that really exemplified the conflicts of nature within professional sports. On one hand, the athletes take it so incredibly seriously. There's a lot of ego involved. These tense moments on the court that mean the difference between winning and losing may as well mean the difference beween life and death. They're here to do a job; a delicate job--squeaking out a win--that requires almost godly focus and discipline.

And then there are the fans who came not so much to watch exceptionally skilled athletes as to have the all-inclusive wild night out, who merge into a rowdy crowd and demand to be entertained, who dance like morons to be on the Jumbotron, whose life missions at that very moment is to catch a rolled up t-shirts shot from a cannon...as watch the Mascot run around being goofy like a hyperactive village idiot. No offense to village idiots everywhere.

How can the players work under this condition?

Yeah, they get paid millions to do it. Deal with this circus around what they have dedicated their lives to. But it really takes away from the gravity of their abilities, doesn't it? Like, I think thundersticks should be banned at basketball games. I know the teams will hand them out for free to people sitting behind the visitor's basket. It was some marketing genius' idea of making the fans feel more involved in the outcome of the games. If they make enough noise, they affect the other teams ability to score and thus, contributing to a win or loss. And yes, one could argue that a good player should be so focused, that even the distraction and noise of thundersticks won't distract him. But honestly, I'm not a purest, but if I were a basketball player and had to deal with that noise and distraction every time I was trying to gather myself into a tiny pinpoint of focus, repetitively every few days for months on end, my nerves would be shot. I would have a very short fuse. It'd be really easy for me to snap, in just a heated enough moment.

I mean, you remember Ace Ventura, right? "Laces out" ? Dude, I'm telling you. This is a very, very serious matter.

NBA not banning thundersticks during games= Athletes snapping = Sean Young strapping her penis between her legs.

Check my math. I think you'll find that I'm not wrong.

So I can't keep straight anymore which people know I can read tarot cards and which don't. This is a facet of the mystical side of me that I am very, very private about and very protective of, for fear of persecution and ridicule as much as to keep this ability private because I don't want people who don't really need it demanding my help (if I want to read for people or feel like I have something to tell them, I'll offer. Because when I read for people, it's not akin to a magic trick for purposes of entertainment. It's a draining process of digging deep inside someone's psyche/soul and bringing out hidden pain as part of a healing process). But I've always loved the artwork of the cards and wanted to share it, though I let very few people close to my deck. So considering I've been working at a scanner company for over a year now, I just figured out that I can scan them and post them so you can see some of my favorite cards. These cards are some of my most personal and private belongings, so be nice, okay?

This card represents me...Air behaving as Fire. Courageous, impulsive, stormy--the slayer of darkness and invisible demons. I absolutely *love* this card.

This is, artistically, my favorite card in the deck. I've stared at it for hours before, absorbing its details, the concept of unity despite polarity. Disparity creating unity. Tension creating balance.The blind cupid, the omnipotent, faceless father. ..this card never ceases to intrigue me. It's also the Gemini card.

The Tower. This card shows a building crumbling and on fire as people fall out of it. A little story about this card...in August 2001, I was in the bay area visiting my family and we had a small get together with my extended family. At the party, my mom convinced me to read for people. I am most comfortable with reading 2-3 weeks ahead because free will often changes outcomes, so the further away a time frame is, statistically, the less possible it is to be accurate because of the amount of free will that can modify a person's course during every second. So I read for a bunch of people, and this card came up in everyone's readings. In hindsight of 9/11, that was freaky. But that's exactly the kind of thing this card represents. This card comes up when someone has tried to build a house on a bad foundation. They've repressed problems, ignored them, yet they go on with their lives like nothing's wrong (like all the tension that had been covered up by our government's foreign policies. And then the Tower makes the situation blow wide open, forcing things to be dealt with). But those buried issues rot away at the foundation until a huge, terrible event happens that crumbles everything that person had been trying to build. You never want this card to show up. It means you're going to have a devastating experience that will completely shake up your world, forcing you to deal with the things you're trying to run away from. You will be so much better off in the long run, but in general, you should be taking care of things in all hopes to avoid the types of events represented by this card. It'll be things like, a person running away from emotional issues and burying themselves in their work. The tower comes along and blows things wide open...a relative dies, a relationship ends painfully, the person is laid off, so that they can no longer hide their head in a hole and are forced to deal with something. In the end, the Tower is a good thing. But it's the disciplinarian. You usually want to be conscious of your issues and deal with them as much as possible to avoid this type of event. This is the explosion. It's like when the doctor has to break your legs again, so that they can set correctly and you can grow. But it is always, always very difficult. I always get very worried when I see this card and emphatic with the person that they have to deal with something. Unfortunately, usually, when people have been avoiding issues and hiding them for so long, they're set in their minds not to deal with those things. Until something forces them to.