By now, I'm sure you've heard all about the nonsense going on in Missouri that is the current hot-button debate issue. It's sad that things have gotten to the point that they have, but more importantly, the response of the authorities is terrifying. What the hell, America?
We are quickly moving toward becoming a fascist police state, and it's getting closer every week. There are many people out there with varying opinions on the matter. Some are in support of the police and our government on the way that cops are carrying themselves and how they respond to the dissenters. Others, of course, are the dissenters themselves or those that support them. I've spent a lot of time talking about related topics in this blog, because it's something I feel deeply about. We cannot allow this to happen to ourselves.
Yes, this whole thing started after 9/11, when we allowed the Patriot Act to be signed into law. We sat around, telling ourselves that our liberties being taken away in exchange for security was a good thing, and since we didn't have anything to hide, it wouldn't matter because we had nothing to hide.
But then..... Edward Snowden.
Now we're suddenly finding ourselves facing a tyrannical government trying its best to disarm us, further violating our Constitutional rights, and make it harder and harder for us to gather and protest them, even peacefully, because the responses from them and their hired thugs that we call the police are getting more and more violent.
Since when did resistance to a fascist government become a bad thing? Isn't that kind of the entire reason we exist as a country to begin with?
Look, I'm not here to preach at you, but I am going to ask that any and all who read this take a good, long look at what we're becoming as a society in this country. We have tons of surplus food that gets thrown in the garbage every day because it isn't sold, and yet we have millions of starving people in our country that could really use said food. We have trillions of dollars floating around the country, most of it going to just a few, and yet we have people living in poverty that have no way out. We have a prison system that is already over-crowded and has proven time and again that it doesn't work as far as rehabilitation for the prisoners is concerned. We have problems, folks, and nobody seems to give a goddamn because they're too busy dumping buckets of ice water on their heads.
Further, they're being told that this is all for their own good. As a society, we cannot function this way for much longer. Things are reaching a boiling point, and that's scary to me, because I can't see it ending any other way than another bloody civil war.
I'm not yet calling for revolution, but I'm getting close. I cannot stand to see what we have spent centuries building go down in flames over the course of decades because of the actions of a greedy few.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
The Tears of a Clown; or A Life Once Lost
Unless you've been living under a rock for the past 48 hours, you've surely heard by now that legendary comedian, actor, and all-around funnyman Robin Williams has been found dead in his California home. Apparently, it was a suicide.
Ever since hearing about it, and finding out that this wasn't just another hoax, I was absolutely floored. I simply couldn't believe it. He was a huge inspiration throughout my life. His stand-up routines were things I could watch while in one of my notorious depressive funks, and still get a laugh.
Which brings me to the point of me writing this post. Mr. Williams was someone that I respected and admired a lot growing up. My first introduction to him, like many others my age, was the certifiably insane bat from Fern Gully: The Last Rainforest. From there, I stared at the TV for hours, saucer-eyed, as I watched him give voice to Genie from Aladdin, rewinding the movie when it was done to watch it all over again. I learned that being a father was something that sometimes requires one to do rather silly things to be able to ensure that your kids grow up right when I watched him turn himself into a woman in Mrs. Doubtfire.
Then, as I grew up, I started digging into his older works in his career. I discovered the Dead Poet's Society, where he managed to teach me more about poetry and English in the span of two hours than most of the my teachers had managed to teach me in two years. I also learned from him that it's never a good idea to put kids' lives in danger during the rain, especially since you never know who's getting a blowjob just right around the corner. I watched him spin tunes as a record DJ during the Vietnam war.
He had a range of roles, and if you're really that curious, I linked his IMDb page for a reason. He could be more than just funny. There were times that he was downright dour. But all in all, he was an amazing man, and will be missed.
The reason I speak about all of this is that, underneath his veneer, his fame, his fortune, his success as an entertainer... None of it meant jack-fuck. He, like many of us int he world, suffered from chronic severe depression. It's not something that people like to think about. It's not something that they want to admit is a real problem. Since the announcement of his death, I have seen tons of people offering condolences and support. I've even seen some people be real assholes - like a guy I've been arguing with off and on in this article here (which should be read, by the way, as the article is very important, I feel, and does a far better job than most of addressing the problem) - saying that what he did was "selfish" or "cowardly." Even Conservative windbag Rush Limbaugh is getting in on this, albeit in his usual stupid ways.
Look, there is a real problem with the world today, folks, and if there's one good thing that come of the death of Mr. Williams, it's that maybe now we can stop trying to say that those who are depressed are weak and just need to "get over themselves," and we can have the conversation about it that has been needed for a long, long time.
Depression and suicide are things that I don't take very lightly. I suffer from depression and fight with it every single day. Sometimes, it's even hard to smile when I look at my daughter. Not a single day goes by that I don't think about suicide. And I know that I'm not alone in this. However, it certainly feels that way.
And that's the thing about depression: You're constantly feeling as if you're alone and that you have no way of relieving the pain that you feel on a regular basis. People react to it differently and will find different avenues to fill the void. Some people cut on themselves and tear their skin apart. Other people will separate themselves from the rest of the world until they can somehow manage to pull themselves out of their funk. Others write, or walk. There are people out there like Mr. Williams who find that a good way to keep your spirits up is the lift the spirits of others. What they don't like you to know is that these outlets only last for so long.
If you've never lived with crippling depression before, let me tell you that it's not just "Oh, I feel blue today." It's more than that. I can't really put it into words. Have you ever had something really terrible that you just had to do with your day, and it was something that had to be done later in the afternoon and you couldn't follow the advice of Mark Twain and eat the frog first thing so the rest of your day would be wonderful? That feeling of absolute dread that you get knowing that you have to do this thing? It's kind of like that, only multiplied by a number that doesn't even exist yet. And the frog for those of us that suffer from this isn't just "Oh, I have to go to court" or anything like that. It's life in general.
Many people throughout my life have told me that I'm just being melodramatic about this, that I should just "lighten up" or "think positive!" or some other useless platitude that doesn't really do anything to help. It's not that simple. And honestly, saying those things to someone that approaches you about this overwhelming feeling of dread and despair is a lot like saying "I don't care what you're feeling. Fuck off with that shit, man, because you're bringing me down and, like, I don't need that right now because my phone charger isn't working properly." And that's usually how we take it when people tell us these things. We feel as if those we care about don't really care about us.
Therein lies the problem. We have viewed depression - and pretty much any other kind of mental illness - as a sign of weakness in our fellow human beings and as something that should be treated the same way we used to treat lepers back in the day.
There are a few that we talk to who say "Man, you need help." Like we didn't know that already. But if we're reaching out to you, it's because we're trying to get that help. And then we're met with the useless platitudes that I mentioned above, and it's frustrating.
Yes, there are a lot of resources out there for those battling with depression and thoughts of suicide on a regular basis, and I'm going to do anybody struggling who is reading this a courtesy of leaving links to these helplines at the end of this post, because this is really some serious shit that shouldn't be swept under the rug.
But what happens when these resources are no longer helpful? What if it starts feeling like these resources that actually want to help you through your struggle are just giving you the same useless platitudes that you get from your friends? That's another problem for many of us, and then we end up feeling like the only way out is death, and that's when suicide looks like more and more of a better option. I mean, why continue waking up every day, knowing that your life is in the toilet and feeling like the whole world is against you when you can just simply end it all and be done with it?
Yeah, it's not really a good solution to the problems, but at least it's a solution. That's what is going through the minds of those with this sickness, and if you know anybody who is going through it, you need to recognize that. It's not selfish when it's the only way to stop the never-ending pain and torment that you live through on a daily basis. Lord knows that I've given it serious consideration in the past, have done so recently, and, knowing myself, I will give it consideration in the future. As I mentioned earlier, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about it at least once.
It takes a lot out of me to write about this. I'm not good at expressing the feelings that I have, in any capacity. I hate myself a little more for even writing about this to begin with, because I feel like I'm just whining. I feel as if people who read this won't really get it, and will continue to tell me to just "lighten up." I really don't know what else to say or do to make people understand, or even really care.
And that's the most frustrating part of all.
Resources:
Click here if you are a cutter.
If you're on the verge of suicide, these guys can hopefully help.
For more specialized help, I'd advise using Google to track down local support.
Ever since hearing about it, and finding out that this wasn't just another hoax, I was absolutely floored. I simply couldn't believe it. He was a huge inspiration throughout my life. His stand-up routines were things I could watch while in one of my notorious depressive funks, and still get a laugh.
Which brings me to the point of me writing this post. Mr. Williams was someone that I respected and admired a lot growing up. My first introduction to him, like many others my age, was the certifiably insane bat from Fern Gully: The Last Rainforest. From there, I stared at the TV for hours, saucer-eyed, as I watched him give voice to Genie from Aladdin, rewinding the movie when it was done to watch it all over again. I learned that being a father was something that sometimes requires one to do rather silly things to be able to ensure that your kids grow up right when I watched him turn himself into a woman in Mrs. Doubtfire.
Then, as I grew up, I started digging into his older works in his career. I discovered the Dead Poet's Society, where he managed to teach me more about poetry and English in the span of two hours than most of the my teachers had managed to teach me in two years. I also learned from him that it's never a good idea to put kids' lives in danger during the rain, especially since you never know who's getting a blowjob just right around the corner. I watched him spin tunes as a record DJ during the Vietnam war.
He had a range of roles, and if you're really that curious, I linked his IMDb page for a reason. He could be more than just funny. There were times that he was downright dour. But all in all, he was an amazing man, and will be missed.
The reason I speak about all of this is that, underneath his veneer, his fame, his fortune, his success as an entertainer... None of it meant jack-fuck. He, like many of us int he world, suffered from chronic severe depression. It's not something that people like to think about. It's not something that they want to admit is a real problem. Since the announcement of his death, I have seen tons of people offering condolences and support. I've even seen some people be real assholes - like a guy I've been arguing with off and on in this article here (which should be read, by the way, as the article is very important, I feel, and does a far better job than most of addressing the problem) - saying that what he did was "selfish" or "cowardly." Even Conservative windbag Rush Limbaugh is getting in on this, albeit in his usual stupid ways.
Look, there is a real problem with the world today, folks, and if there's one good thing that come of the death of Mr. Williams, it's that maybe now we can stop trying to say that those who are depressed are weak and just need to "get over themselves," and we can have the conversation about it that has been needed for a long, long time.
Depression and suicide are things that I don't take very lightly. I suffer from depression and fight with it every single day. Sometimes, it's even hard to smile when I look at my daughter. Not a single day goes by that I don't think about suicide. And I know that I'm not alone in this. However, it certainly feels that way.
And that's the thing about depression: You're constantly feeling as if you're alone and that you have no way of relieving the pain that you feel on a regular basis. People react to it differently and will find different avenues to fill the void. Some people cut on themselves and tear their skin apart. Other people will separate themselves from the rest of the world until they can somehow manage to pull themselves out of their funk. Others write, or walk. There are people out there like Mr. Williams who find that a good way to keep your spirits up is the lift the spirits of others. What they don't like you to know is that these outlets only last for so long.
If you've never lived with crippling depression before, let me tell you that it's not just "Oh, I feel blue today." It's more than that. I can't really put it into words. Have you ever had something really terrible that you just had to do with your day, and it was something that had to be done later in the afternoon and you couldn't follow the advice of Mark Twain and eat the frog first thing so the rest of your day would be wonderful? That feeling of absolute dread that you get knowing that you have to do this thing? It's kind of like that, only multiplied by a number that doesn't even exist yet. And the frog for those of us that suffer from this isn't just "Oh, I have to go to court" or anything like that. It's life in general.
Many people throughout my life have told me that I'm just being melodramatic about this, that I should just "lighten up" or "think positive!" or some other useless platitude that doesn't really do anything to help. It's not that simple. And honestly, saying those things to someone that approaches you about this overwhelming feeling of dread and despair is a lot like saying "I don't care what you're feeling. Fuck off with that shit, man, because you're bringing me down and, like, I don't need that right now because my phone charger isn't working properly." And that's usually how we take it when people tell us these things. We feel as if those we care about don't really care about us.
Therein lies the problem. We have viewed depression - and pretty much any other kind of mental illness - as a sign of weakness in our fellow human beings and as something that should be treated the same way we used to treat lepers back in the day.
There are a few that we talk to who say "Man, you need help." Like we didn't know that already. But if we're reaching out to you, it's because we're trying to get that help. And then we're met with the useless platitudes that I mentioned above, and it's frustrating.
Yes, there are a lot of resources out there for those battling with depression and thoughts of suicide on a regular basis, and I'm going to do anybody struggling who is reading this a courtesy of leaving links to these helplines at the end of this post, because this is really some serious shit that shouldn't be swept under the rug.
But what happens when these resources are no longer helpful? What if it starts feeling like these resources that actually want to help you through your struggle are just giving you the same useless platitudes that you get from your friends? That's another problem for many of us, and then we end up feeling like the only way out is death, and that's when suicide looks like more and more of a better option. I mean, why continue waking up every day, knowing that your life is in the toilet and feeling like the whole world is against you when you can just simply end it all and be done with it?
Yeah, it's not really a good solution to the problems, but at least it's a solution. That's what is going through the minds of those with this sickness, and if you know anybody who is going through it, you need to recognize that. It's not selfish when it's the only way to stop the never-ending pain and torment that you live through on a daily basis. Lord knows that I've given it serious consideration in the past, have done so recently, and, knowing myself, I will give it consideration in the future. As I mentioned earlier, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about it at least once.
It takes a lot out of me to write about this. I'm not good at expressing the feelings that I have, in any capacity. I hate myself a little more for even writing about this to begin with, because I feel like I'm just whining. I feel as if people who read this won't really get it, and will continue to tell me to just "lighten up." I really don't know what else to say or do to make people understand, or even really care.
And that's the most frustrating part of all.
Resources:
Click here if you are a cutter.
If you're on the verge of suicide, these guys can hopefully help.
For more specialized help, I'd advise using Google to track down local support.
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