Someone over at the polyweekly forums posted a link to an online Cognitive Behavior Therapy course called the the MoodGYM. I've been intrigued about Cognitive Behavior Therapy for awhile, since traidao talks about it often. My understanding is that it is a pragmatic approach to dealing with destructive thought and behavior patterns.

The Mood Gym is a flash course that includes some diagnostic quizzes, explains some of the common patterns that people fall into, and provides tools for combating them. It is pretty lengthy (and a tad on the cheesy side,) so I wouldn't necessarily recommend it unless you either have an interest in cognitive behavior therapy, or struggle with depression or anxiety.

Here are some highlights for those of you who don't feel like going through the whole course. (You need to create a new account here before you can view these pages.)

* David Burns' Warped Thoughts
* Hints for Unwarping
* "Playing the Reporter (worksheet)
* Increase positive self-interpretations (worksheet)
* Testing thoughts & interpretations (worksheet)
* Experiment to prove or disprove your interpretations
* "Self-Talking"

I dreamed last night that a guy was robbing a bank, when someone came in to stop him. After a fight scene, the robber holds up a bag full of cash and says to the hero, "Last night I visualized this $100,000, and now I'm here to receive it."

I found out today that there is a vaccine for Hepatitis A and B. Did y'all know that? Apparently they started giving it to kids in the mid-90's, but I was past the vaccination-getting age at that point.

Vaccinations for STD's make me happy to a silly extreme. It makes me feel like... we're winning.

All of History: Sex is bad, m'kay?
The 70's: Hey, wait... maybe sex is actually... GOOD! (Proceeds to go crazy with it.)
The 80's: D'oh, STD's. I guess sex is bad after all.
Modern vaccinations: Sex is good again, and we did it with SCIENCE. Take that, God.

It's that time again. My friends list has been culled down to a lean, mean post writing machine. Ok, so honestly, it was culled a bit beyond "lean" to perhaps, "skinny". Possibly even venturing into malnourished territory.

So! Who are the two people on your friends list that I really should be reading if I'm not already?

I'll start.


theuglyvolvo is one of the jewels I discovered on readers_list. Most of her entries are personal anecdotes about her life, written in short-story format. I invariably enjoy her entries -- they are always very well written and hilarious. The thing I really love about all of her stories is that she knows how to do a good ending. Every story I read of hers ends leaving me feeling downright satisfied.

In the realm of personal journal style blogs, madbard is clever, entertaining, and occasionally even thought provoking. A fellow aficionado of freedom, atheism, and Whedon, I often enjoy reading his well articulated perspective 10° off from my own.


See how much fun that was? Now, go forth and post about your picks.

I wonder equal parts about the seemingly innate need in some humans to have creatures to pet, as I do about the complementary need in some creatures for human attention. What did humans do before there were housecats and modern dogs? Did whole generations of humans get eaten by saber tooths and wolves, goaded by the overwhelming urge to OMG HAS TO SQUEEZE IT SO CUTE? Have countless wildcats and wolves over the eons been left baffled and dismayed when humans ran screaming from innocent attempts to nuzzle against legs or boof sleeping heads?

If it is so, then this trait must have been a tenacious one indeed, to survive countless tragic ends for humans and beast alike until finally a rare match of a cute-compelled humanbeast with his human-doting fuzzy was made.

One of the things that is delightful about Dr. Horrible is seeing how Joss's work has evolved over the years. At this point in his career, with several successful ventures under his belt and a horde of dedicated followers, this is usually right around where I expect an artist to fizzle out and start reusing the same couple of good ideas to death. Instead, even in this low budget, short and silly piece, his distinctive style shows through.

Joss's work is not unlike South Park in being a juxtaposition of conveying subtle and sophisticated points through a juvenile medium. Where South Park is complex social commentary amid toilet humor, Joss almost invariably demonstrates in an exaggerated yet realistic way the subtleties of human behavior and social interaction, against a fantastical and over-the-top backdrop. This study of culture, roles, and behavior is not unlike The Office, but instead of being in a setting we are all familiar with, it happens among monsters and heroes.

Another element that makes Joss Whedon's work so distinct is his tendancy to identify a common genre convention, then play with viewer expecation by turning it on its head. I think this is part of the reason he is so fond of killing off main characters. It defies our expectation that characters that we love are somehow protected by our fondness, and by making the world less safe it also makes it feel less artificial.

A more silly example of this device is the the opening scene of Dr. Horrible, (itty bitty spoiler alert,) opening with the dramatic maniacal laugh, but then transitioning to a down-to-earth monologue. I can think of a dozen tiny moments like this in his other work. In Buffy, the dramatic evil villain speech that gets unceremoniously cut off; in Firefly, Mal insisting that no, really, he doesn't need to do this for himself -- please give him a hand; a million subtle changes in pacing that surprise you, though you don't quite know why.

Then of course there is the witty dialogue, hot babes, and cool shit. Yes, yes I am a fangirl.

Joss Whedon's new thing. Online only. Goes away this weekend.

http://drhorrible.com/

Click it! I'll wait.



Ok, are you back? Good. So, here's the best part.

"1) Why, Joss? Why? Why now, why free, why us?

Once upon a time, all the writers in the forest got very mad with the Forest Kings and declared a work-stoppage. The forest creatures were all sad; the mushrooms did not dance, the elderberries gave no juice for the festival wines, and the Teamsters were kinda pissed. (They were very polite about it, though.) During this work-stoppage, many writers tried to form partnerships for outside funding to create new work that circumvented the Forest King system.

Frustrated with the lack of movement on that front, I finally decided to do something very ambitious, very exciting, very mid-life-crisisy. Aided only by everyone I had worked with, was related to or had ever met, I single-handedly created this unique little epic. A supervillain musical, of which, as we all know, there are far too few.

The idea was to make it on the fly, on the cheap – but to make it. To turn out a really thrilling, professionalish piece of entertainment specifically for the internet. To show how much could be done with very little. To show the world there is another way. To give the public (and in particular you guys) something for all your support and patience. And to make a lot of silly jokes. Actually, that sentence probably should have come first. "

The future is finally here.

Summer is usually busy for me, but the last few weeks have been crazy in rather unexpected ways.

Last week, a good friend, Jacqueline-of-no-livejournal, came to visit from LA. Or Atlanta. It's kind of hard to say. You see, we both lived in LA before. Then she moved away to Georgia, and I moved to San Francisco. Then she came back to visit LA, and took a couple days out of her LA trip to visit me in the Bay. How does one express that succinctly?

Anyhow, our time was mostly spent lounging around my place, occasionally venturing out to a nearby cafe for food. (Since my kitchen has become a barren wasteland.) It was really wonderful to see her, however brief, and made me realize how much I miss her. It also made me realize how healthy it is for me to have people like her in my life. I tend to be so pragmatic at best, and a total stress monkey at worst. It is really good for me to have light hearted, fun-loving people in my life to infuse some joy into my otherwise curmudgeonly self.

The big event this week, (just a few hours ago as I write this,) was getting my eyes lasered. I have had my eye on the technology for years, watching as my friends got it done. Their post-op reactions ranged from happy to "I am an idiot for not having this done years ago." I'd heard all the horror stories, most of which were not really all that bad. Add to that the fact that I chose a place that I felt really good about, (read: very expensive) who provided me with detailed information about every step of the procedure, I felt totally prepared for it.

The procedure was the most fun you can have when people are tinkering with your eyeballs. Which, as it turns out is none at all. I would say, on a traumatic scale of 1 to 10, (1 being some at all, and 10 being nightmares, PTSD and therapy for years to come), it was about a 3. I am very, very glad that I opted to go with the top-of-the-line place. Having complete confidence and trust in the doctor and facility made the whole experience several notches less terrifying than it could have been.

All in all though, I was out of there in less than two hours, and after a nap can see mostly normal again. I may post a more detailed entry about the whole experience at some point. For now though, all is well. ish.

Finally, next week I'll be going to France, from the 23rd through the 30th. Dude. France! This trip has been rather spur-of-the-moment, but we'll be staying in the Latin Quarter in Paris, and spending some time in Bordeaux. And that is all you get to know right now.

Now I am going to see if I can make myself go to bed again so soon after my nap, so I can get up bright and early for my post-op appointment in the morning. I have high hopes. *yawn*

Mismatched expectations are the source of all drama.

Once you have internalized that, avoiding and correcting drama becomes pleasantly simple.

As most of you know, I am a Libertarian and as such individual rights are the core of my philosophy. I think that respect for individual rights creates a more healthy and prosperous society, based on a myriad of principles such as the value of personal responsibility, the effectiveness of localized decision making, and the inevitable corruptions and inefficiencies that coincide with centralized power.

Aside from the pragmatic reasons that I support freedom, it is my strong feelings about the moral aspects that are relevant for the purposes of this discussion. Stated very simply, I believe that individuals have the right to make decisions about their body and property and that coercion through force is unethical.

Stated that way, it sounds entirely reasonable and agreeable to nearly everyone. It is when I explain that government is a utility to coerce through force decisions that individuals could not be convinced of otherwise that people start to say, "Well, wait a minute there." It is when I further expound on the position that it is not freedom unless it applies to entirely stupid ideas as well as the good ones that they start to think that that apparently benign statement, when taken to its logical conclusion is downright crazy.

In spite of appearances, this post is not about Libertarianism. In fact, if all of this sounds stupid, crazy and evil, then this post is not for you. It is only a preface to explain that I do in fact take this simple philosophy to its logical conclusion. I believe in personal freedom as it applies to relatively pedestrian issues such the right to choose your sexual partner(s) and the right to choose how to distribute your income, as well less pleasant issues such as prostitution and suicide.

I know there are a few of you on my readership who agree with those basic principles, to the the same unwavering extent that I do. That freedom is only freedom when it is applied to make bad choices, often even those that you personally passionately disagree with. To you then, I would pose this question.

Starting with the premise that a person has the right to make decisions about their own body, life, and therefore the right to end it, and the premise that it is unethical to coerce a person through force; If then a loved one called you in the middle of the night and informed you that it was their imminent intention to end their life, is it unethical to call the police to prevent them from carrying out their intention?

Inquiring minds want to know. How do you...

1. Find new music?

2. Acquire said music once it is found? (Physical CDs? Itunes? iPirate.com?)

3. Store and organize your music?

4. Select and listen to music?

5. Share music with your friends?

The other day I found myself hunting through my back entries and old emails for a particular link. Along the way I followed the trails of other nifty links throughout the years, spending hours remembering -- oh yeah, this thing! Or, hey there is that article I'm always referencing.

This led me to think that there should really be a better mechanism for keeping track of those sites that have lasting value, and you find yourself wanting to revisit again and again over the years.

And so it is that six eras late I'm on del.icio.us.

I am very good at accomplishing goals.

If I have determined to do something, I attack it with a single-minded ferocity that will not let up until it is exactly as I had envisioned. I am very, very good at this.

Single-mindedness though, lacks balance. Other things wither and die while I toil.

And it it can take so long. I grow impatient.

It would be good to learn a way to accomplish goals that is not to the exclusion of all else.

*sigh* Of course, I have said all this before.

Via naohai

"Gays and lesbians have a constitutional right to marry in California, the state Supreme Court said today in a historic ruling that could be repudiated by the voters in November.

In a 4-3 decision, the justices said the state's ban on same-sex marriage violates the "fundamental constitutional right to form a family relationship." The ruling is likely to flood county courthouses with applications from couples newly eligible to marry when the decision takes effect in 30 days." --SFGate

That's right fellow-Californians. The day we feared is finally upon us. In the wake of this historic decision, you can expect to see man and goat taking romantic walks on the beach, brother and sister making out in the park, and the marriages of innocent heterosexual couples dissolving into a tragic puddle of immorality.

Enjoy the next thirty days of institutional bliss while you still can.

So often these days when I'm out and about I find myself scanning the crowds, watching the door, hoping I'll see you there. I find myself searching for your face, that flair of your coat as you walk by, the presence that can be felt when you walk into a room.

It's silly of course -- if you had been here, I already would have noticed. You stand out in a crowd. Your attire, for one thing. It's not particularly extravagant or radical, but it still catches the eye. All of your outfits have a certain cohesive aesthetic that whispers of otherworldliness.

In short, you would stand out because you obviously wouldn't belong here. Heck, you don't belong anywhere, you're always just fifteen degrees off. But your quiet confidence and strong sense of self makes you comfortable wherever you are. It makes people like you -- they feel comfortable around you because you are comfortable with yourself.

It is so obvious that the way you watch things that the gears are turning in your head. Seeing you, a person is struck with the sense that you are high caliber. You are a step apart and a step above. It's a bit intimidating. Being around you feels like you are under the microscope, but at the same time there is an air of easy acceptance about you that puts people at ease. And that critical eye? It makes your approval so much more rewarding.

It is so easy for us to talk, not because we have all that much in common, but because we click, in that way that people do that are fifteen degrees off. We feel a connection that makes talking about ideas both foreign and familiar just flow. You make my brain go new places, and I think that is what I miss the most.

I don't know who you are, but I wish you were here.

Albert Hoffman passed away yesterday.

Albert died of a heart attack on Tuesday morning, April 29, at the age
of 102, fully lucid and deeply satisfied that LSD psychotherapy
research had been permitted to resume. He spoke several months before
he died about the renewal of LSD psychotherapy research, sponsored by
MAPS and conducted by Dr. Peter Gasser in patients with anxiety
associated with end-of-life issues, as the "fulfillment of my heart's
desire."

Albert died several months after his wife Anita died on December 20,
2007, demonstrating that their love affair of over 70 years was the
primary motivation for both of them to stay alive so long.

In a recent post about the silly OSBP thing, (if you are not familiar with the concept, I don't particularly recommend you change that,) ursulav mentioned the following quote, "Men are afraid women will laugh at them. Women are afraid men will kill them."

This echoes the sentiment that I have heard in many modern feminist writings. That modern existence as a woman includes, by default, a very pervasive element of fear for their basic safety. I have heard tales ranging from a women relating the feeling of walking alone at night, to explaining that every encounter with a new man is twinged with suspicion of potential violence.

Hearing these women share their stories breaks my heart. The life of fear that they describe is tragic, and it is horrifying to me that anyone in modern times endures this.

The thing is? I don't understand. Fear is not a part of my life as a woman, and it never has been.

When I was a teenager, I certainly did not think particularly well of males. I believed that all men wanted something from me, and were willing to go to all levels of deceit and trickery to get it. I imagined that men sat in dark smoky rooms, laughing menacingly with steepled fingers as they formed their evil schemes to get in my pants.

I have since learned that most men, especially of the age range that I was dealing with in those days, are merely bumbling along awkwardly, trying to make a connection. The scheming I imagined was more likely boys trying to untangle the mysteries of the world, the baffling enigma that is girls, and the seemingly herculean task of getting one to pay attention to them.

But back then? I was defensive, sure. One might even say that to an extent, I was afraid. Afraid of heartbreak, afraid to trust. But I was never afraid for my safety.

While I am aware that women are the victims of sexual assault and violent crimes far more often than men, I see this in the context of the many other horrible, but relatively rare things that happen in the world. I am far more concerned about the idea of getting run down by a San Francisco cabbie than I am with either having my home destroyed by earthquake, or being raped in an alley.

This is not to say that there haven't been moments when, walking alone at night past an unsavory looking group of people, I might be acutely aware of my own relative strength, and my chances of defending myself if it became necessary. However, I also don't think that I would feel any less unsafe, all other things being equal, if I suddenly had a penis between my legs.

What I would like to ask you, if you are a woman and would be so generous as to share is -- are you afraid? To what level does it impact your life? Is it an undertone of every encounter with a strange man, or is it confined to certain situations? And most importantly, please help me understand -- why are you afraid?

I do not ask these questions to belittle the fear of any woman, nor do I mean to imply that anyone should or should not be afraid. I ask honestly, because I wish to understand.

Please, please, please understand.

Telling an atheist that a departed loved one is "in a better place" is not comforting. Telling a skeptic that a departed loved one has a message for them from the beyond is not a welcome tiding.

If you really care for someone and wish to offer solace, think about their perspective before saying whatever flowery thing may come to mind, even if it is something you truly believe. It is uncomfortable at best, trying to think of a polite way to respond to such unpleasantness. At worst, it can be pouring salt on the wound.

I tend to disagree with people a lot.

I don't mean that I often find myself in disagreement with "normal" people, or that I tend to have alternate view points from the majority. While both of these things are true, what I actually mean is that for almost everyone in my life, there is at least one fundamental and conspicuous part of our worldviews that are intractably opposed.

This has pretty much always been the case. When I was young and a devout Christian, my view of reality had me believing the whole world was against me. Among my Christian friends though, it wasn't as though I had sanctuary -- we had wildly different value systems, diverging on pesky issues like "sin" and black nail polish.

The people and issues change over the years, but the pattern remains the same. A non-dancer among ravers. Having skeptical leanings among hippies. An atheist among pagans. Fairly vanilla among kink and poly folk. A Libertarian in San Francisco.

Because it is the status quo for me to fundamentally disagree with the people that I am closest to and have a great deal of respect for, it has given me an unusual disposition towards strangers I encounter that I disagree with.

I tend to start out with the assumption that while someone may be incorrect, they came upon this belief for a good reason. They may have insufficient data, their particular values may lead them to weigh some evidence more strongly than others -- that their collective life experience has made this particular conclusion, which just happens to be incorrect, seem compelling and entirely reasonable.

In short -- I don't think that just because someone disagrees with me, they must be either stupid or evil.

Over time, in a rather self-referential manner, I have come to realize that I can not expect this same perspective from everyone. Most people are not accustomed to being surrounded by people that are both dramatically different from them in some way who they also have a great deal of respect for. It makes it easy to assume that people who think things that seem stupid must in fact be stupid.

What bothers me though is when I see disdain and dismissal of the opposition from those who would call themselves skeptics, scientists and critical thinkers. For those who seek objective truth, flippantly writing off the opposition as "idiots" or "scum bags" is simply lazy. This cop-out avoids fully exploring the reasons that might lead a perfectly reasonable human being to a conclusion different from your own. In doing so, you cheat yourself out of a full understanding of the issue, and in turn compromise the basis of your own position.

You just can't really know you are right unless you completely understand, and can therefore confidently reject, the reasons people think you are wrong.

I am, for those of you who don't know me, a very materialistic person.

I am very comfortable with my materialistic nature. My good friend traidao once dubbed me a "materialistic consumer whore", a label I now wear as a badge of pride. My things are precious to me. I chose them with agonizing care, and they are a part of who I am. I love my things, and I am not ashamed of it.

Take my cell phones for example. I was one of the last of the people I knew to get a cell phone. Not because I was afraid of the technology, or had anything against it like many people. But because the ones that were being made just weren't good enough yet. I didn't want one of those clunky lunch-box like things as a part of my life.

When I finally did buy a cell phone, it was a Samsung 8500. I couldn't tell you the specs, but I can tell you that when it closed it had a satisfying *snap* that was both soft and decisive. It was from the first generation of flip phones, and the weight of it in my hand felt sturdy and yet elegant at the same time.

My next phone was the Samsung A500. It was so tiny! The buttons glowed a pretty blue, and the inside screen was in color! I remember the awe I felt the first time I saw the amazing picture on the screen. The buttons had a dainty little click when pressed, and the itty bitty LED on the outside was shaped like half a gum drop. It felt like magic and spaceships in my hand.

I have kept all of my cell phones, over the years. As each one past its time, I couldn't bear to part ways. Except for the first, I kept all of their original packaging, and though they all bear the scars of a life well lived, I like the thought that at any time I could charge them up again and turn them on.(*) Like saying hello to old friends.

Recently, it came time to retire my beloved LG VX9800. I placed it back into its box, nestled among its manuals and power cables, lovingly finding a place for it next to its companions. And I realized...

Man, I've got a lot of junk.

I may eventually have to come to terms with the fact that my tradition of keeping my old cell phones and their accompanying accouterments won't... scale. And it is possible that that time will come within the next week or so, when I assemble my recently purchased shelves and clean out my closet. But as I sit here tonight, looking at these lovely little remnants of a person I once was, I can't help but think...

I love my things.







* A theory which by the way, I have never tested. I am afraid I will find that they do not function properly without a valid network account to connect to, and I will be heartbroken.