Monday, August 18, 2008

Seasonal Affection Disorder

Here is my metaphor for how Winter affects me:

Suppose you spend your life constantly placed in awful situations, being told terrible things and eventually you build a wall. It gives you solace and your soul gets so calloused from the abuse, that you cease to notice it. Perhaps, on some sleepless night, you imagine what it might be like not to live the way you do...Then one day someone comes along and says one little kind thing to you, something so insignificant but just the same, you erupt into tears.

This is how I feel each year when Summer's harshness and darkness ends. It's like Winter is this benevolent woman, tapping me on the shoulder, whispering comforting words into my ear. And I cry. I somehow feel undeserving and awed and afraid to get used to the cool gentle beauty because it might end at any moment and Summer will return harsher than before, nosebleeds included.

Geeze, this is dysfunctional... yet whenever I'd moved to a different climate, I'd missed the 'cycle of abuse' (to carry the metaphor on further) that is San Diego's heavy Summer sun and subtle Winters.

Chin up. Stiff lip.

Monday, August 4, 2008

Capitolism’s Success Hinges On The Quest For Enormous Genitals*

Like most people, I receive a pretty hefty amount of spam each day in my various email accounts, and like most people, I don't ordinarily read it. (Ah, it feels satisfying to identify myself as being 'like most people' for once.)

However, there are times when I, much like some lonely elderly woman who only receives junk snail mail, sort through it looking for something personal, something perhaps in the way of salvation. It is as futile as the aforementioned archetypal bored elderly woman mired in a mundane life of mediocrity being seduced by the "you're a winner! you're special!" siren song of Ed McMahon's publisher's clearing his house mail.

It is a good thing I don't have a penis-envy complex, because the bulk of the spam I receive is about making my nonexistent penis larger. Today I received a spam from this sender: "DICK-EnLarGe". He had this little gem for me: "ARE YOU BIG ENOUGH? SHE WANT BIGGER..." Once I tire of feeling self-righteously indignant about the poor grammar used in such lackluster spam, my mind turns to Freud, and I can't help but think that he's missing out on one hell of an interesting era for psychosexual analysis.

*I realize this will likely generate some hits from perverted google users... to whom (if they have read this far) I must pass on the tired but true nugget of wisdom: "It is not, after all, the size of the boat that matters; it's the motion of the ocean."