Fear of the Day in 3D

Newspapers, television and radio bombard us daily with tales of disaster, destruction and disease…the three D’s. I sometimes wonder if terror, the goal, is being created by the day after day bombardment of the media. Terrorists, yes that’s the word. Masters at creating first-class anxiety because the normal basic worries we all experience day to day are just not promising enough to produce the panic-making state of mind we are being taught to live in. Let’s face it; worrying about noises in the night, buying the right gift for someone, getting a speeding ticket, making a first impression or whether your breath is bad just doesn’t create the optimum trepidation necessary to survive in the twenty-first century.

The secret of being truly fearful is tackling the front page, the top of the hour or the CNN morning news. The Feds are trying to prepare for the imminent bird flu disaster, millions will die, NYC officials prepare for subway attack, thousands will die, countless illegal immigrants continue pouring over the borders leaving us more vulnerable than ever to terrorists entering the country, hundreds will die. On a personal note, if you haven’t arranged to have a full-body medical scan you are most likely suffering from an undetected terminal illness, and you will die. And in case you’ve relaxed a little more than you should have during the day, there’s always the eleven o’clock news edition to reestablish the imperative massive flood of adrenalin that your vital organs marinade in.

Can we safely assume that we are receiving the proper doses of apprehension to maintain the phobic qualities that are so prevalent today? Let’s turn to a publication of The Journal of The American Medical Association to find out. About fourteen million Americans had a serious depressive episode in the last year. Thirty five million have experienced such depression over their lifetimes. Many people worry about the rapid growth in psychiatric medication of Americans, especially the young. The increase in Americans receiving treatment for depression is striking.

As we age, our bodies show the classic effects of long-term exposure to Adrenaline. The older person has developed a feeling of detachment from reality, as if observing but not participating in life and it’s as if everything is happening in slow motion. The trouble is, young people do not understand what is happening to them. They start thinking something is psychologically wrong with them. The adrenaline cycle makes them think they are going crazy. Adrenaline can produce some very unusual effects, and they are natural. The mechanisms are there to help you survive in dangerous situations. Could having a constant supply of Adrenaline be a stumbling block to our biological defenses?

I’ve decided to provide a service for those who find it necessary to remain in a continuous state of angst and supply a Fear of the Day; which will supersede the need for turning to the media terrorists to provide fodder for daily doses. Of course, the Fear of the Day will lower the amount of Adrenaline the normal person is accustomed to in the hopes of offering a small, but constant such as an intravenous drip. Expect the typical symptoms of withdrawal from dread. Don’t let this deter you. Just look at the list provided and pick your favorite. Post them in your car, office and home.

Fear of the Day:

1.Someone at the office has come across your personal ad on an Internet Dating Service and tacked it up on the lunchroom bulletin board.

2.The laughter you hear behind you is definitely directed toward you.

3.Your company is advertising in the help wanted section of a trade paper for your
position.

4.Your phone line is tapped and everything you’re saying is being recorded, and will be used in court against you.

5.Hardly anyone is going to be foolish enough to like you.

6.The bland smile offered by the grocery checker is masking their craving to wrench a plastic bag over your head.

7.Your therapist shares your secrets with other patients. They laugh.

8.Your Accountant is planning on retiring and moving to South America with your money.

9.Remember…you’re always the one who gets hurt.

10.The waiter at your favorite restaurant secretly despises you and spits in your salad at every opportunity.

11.Microwaves emitted from ovens produced prior to August, 2005 are destroying thousands of your brain cells each second.

12.Think of all the things you could buy with what you pay in taxes each year. Your taxes will be more this year due to the audit.

13.You know who you are. Everybody knows. They’re all looking at you.

14.The office bathroom has a two-way mirror.

15.Why on earth would anyone want to talk to you?

16.That red car you see each morning on your way to work is driven by the murderous stalker that has evaded the police for the past six months and now has his sights set on you.

17.The poorly sealed windshield on your car may implode, enveloping you in shards of glass.

18.Every minor infraction of the law that you have ever committed has been posted on the Internet.

19.Soon, everyone you know will be younger and more successful than you.

20.Your spouse thinks sex with you is totally unsatisfying.

21.The few acquaintances that you know are determined to brainwash you.

22.Your best friend thinks you are evil.

23.That creaking noise you hear in your bedroom at night is an escapee from an insane asylum hiding in your closet.

24.The possibility of being sexually assaulted increases in the late evening while watering your lawn.

25.You bore people to death with all your problems.

26.You were mixed up with another baby at the hospital. That is not your family.

27.You didn’t forward that chain letter. A hideous-looking zombie is going to rape and kill you.

28.You forgot to turn off a drippy faucet and now the water is running over the sides of the sink and drowning your carpets and furniture.

29.The airbag in your car is defective and will deploy, breaking your nose and shooting a shard of your lacrimal bone into your frontal lobe.

30.It’s not who you are, it’s who you don’t know.

31.That’s not really whipped cream the kid at Starbucks puts on your Frapachino.

There. That’s enough to keep you busy for a whole month. Enjoy!

Building Self-Esteem with my bare hands and Dr. Weakly

It’s time to get down to brass tacks and find out why I keep shooting myself in the emotional foot. I want to address my neurosis once and for all. It’s time to do away with low self-esteem and repression and begin to feel good about myself. Since I like people, 28 % of the time, and I consider myself public-spirited, I have decided to share my process with anyone it may benefit.

Following are the actual transcripts of my recent visit with my Psychiatrist, Dr. Neil Weakly:

Dr. Weakly: Let’s assume your self-esteem is just not what it needs to be right now.

Me: I think we can safely assume that.

Dr. Weakly: There are a few things you can do to improve your self-esteem.

Me: That’s why I’m here.

Dr. Weakly: What we have to do is get you to put on your self-esteem colored glasses, set goals that will make your life a wondrous adventure and weed out those deep-rooted inadequate self-conceptions. You must believe that you can rid yourself of that debilitating anxiety and self-defeating behavior. You may not even be a person that people enjoy being around. You’re probably disorganized and don’t manage your time well. You may sit quietly and let other people do all the talking. This could literally put you in a position that is one mishap or stupid decision away from a complete emotional breakdown or worse. You’re not alone. I have many patients who look down and think how skinny their legs are. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people are short but they don’t let that interfere with their self-image. Compared to successful people, you may feel as if your life is insignificant, but being indecisive isn’t as serious as you may think. If you continue to believe that you aren’t an attractive woman, you’re a sitting duck for any neurosis.

Me: (Crying) But what can I do about this horrible mess that I am?

Dr. Weakly: Now see? Stop referring to yourself as a mess. I mean, even if your hair is sort of a train wreck, and you have large pores and oily skin, you must acknowledge your strengths. Even though nothing you do is good enough, you mustn’t allow your past mistakes to haunt you or you will only impede your progress. Backing away and avoiding challenges has caused your self esteem muscles to become flabby. In fact, they’re downright pendulous. Fight back, even if you’re not worthy of praise.

Me: (Crying harder) Help me, doctor!

Dr. Weakly: I believe I can. You must begin to listen to your inner dialog. Are you telling yourself that you are a whiny little failure? Do you chide yourself for being lazy? Do you tell yourself that people are laughing at you behind your back? Do you think you have an odd odor about you? Do you lie awake at night counting your weaknesses and wishing you could think of one single talent that you possess?

Me: (Sobbing) Oh my God! I had no idea I was such a basket-case!

Dr. Weakly: (Frowning) Stop indulging yourself in this panic-stricken display of feebleness. I want you to take that flaccid excuse for a backbone and give it a stiffy. Get into the control booth of your mind and allow your thoughts to be the Viagra that will cause you to straighten up, erect and proud! No wonder you’re depressed, always acting helpless, unable to cope and just waiting for someone to come to your rescue. Have you spent your whole life looking for guidance from others? When are you going to accept that you’re not the idiot that you think you are? You’re not an imposter! You’re not stupid! You’re not always going to be alone! Get up off that floor and stand up!

Me: (Clutching his pant legs) Please! Tell me how to stop this insanity!

Dr. Weakly: (Looking at his watch) Our time is up. We can discuss a firm course of action next time

Momtrepreneurs

It is a little known fact that women have been inventing useful things for years. Unfortunately, it seems that unless you are a mom, or better yet, a single mom, you will most likely remain unknown.

For instance, Mary Anderson was granted her first patent for a window cleaning device in November of 1903. Her invention could clean snow, rain, or sleet from a windshield by using a handle inside the car. Her goal was to improve driver vision during stormy weather - Mary Anderson invented the windshield wiper. What would the Internet say? ‘Mom wipes away windshield wetness one stroke at a time.’

Virgie Ammons invented the handle for the fireplace damper. Her patent was issued in 1974 complete with diagrams that explain how the tool ceases damper chatter caused by air pressure in the room or wind coming from outside. However, if it were today, the Internet would boast…’Mom finds cure for ghostly, rattling and whistling sounds.’

Katherine Blodgett’s research on monomolecular coatings with Nobel Prize winning Dr. Irving Langmuir (for his work in surface chemistry. Hmmm) led her to a revolutionary discovery. She discovered a way to apply the coatings layer by layer to glass and metal. The thin films, which naturally reduced glare on reflective surfaces, when layered to a certain thickness, would completely cancel out the reflection from the surface underneath. This resulted in the world’s first 100% transparent or invisible glass. Ever heard of her? Me either. But today her credit might read, ‘Single mom discovers a way to reduce pesky glare.’

Silver Screen superstar Hedy Lamarr invented a secret communication system in an effort to help the allies defeat the Germans in World War II. The invention, patented in 1941, manipulated radio frequencies between transmission and reception to develop an unbreakable code so that top-secret messages could not be intercepted. What would the Internet say? ‘Mom uses musical notes to send top-secret messages.’

Stephanie Kwolek’s research with high performance chemical compounds led to the development of a synthetic material called Kevlar which is five times stronger than the same weight of steel. Kevlar, patented by Kwolek in 1966, does not rust nor corrode and is extremely lightweight. Many police officers owe their lives to Stephanie Kwolek, for Kevlar is the material used in bullet proof vests. Other applications of the compound include underwater cables, brake linings, space vehicles, boats, parachutes, skis, marching drumheads and building materials. Well now, this is big stuff. How about… ‘Single mom stumbles upon material stronger than man made of steel.’

It was originally called "mistake out", the invention of Bette Nesmith Graham, a Dallas secretary and a single mother raising a son on her own. Graham used her own kitchen blender to mix up her first batch of liquid paper or white out, a substance used to cover up mistakes made on paper. She happened to be Michael Nesmith’s mom. You remember Michael? He played guitar for the Monkees. Well, you know how the ad would read today…’Single mom discovers way to correct Monkee business.’

You never read ads about single dads doing anything as important as coming up with a formula for whiter teeth or a hauntingly healthy Halloween snacks for toddlers. Why? Hey dads, get busy!

With Effects on the Side

There’s no argument about it, the side effect of life, is death. Few want to acknowledge it to themselves let alone talk about it. But, what can we do to make our living experience worth the ultimate side effect?

I say laugh your ass off, or at least until it’s hanging by the remote that pins it to the love seat. That’s usually where my keister can be found when I need a good laugh, nestled in its own little indentation that perfectly matches its size, shape and contour. That happens to be the side effect of watching too much television…leaving a posterior symbol in the cushiony fabric.

Commercials are fun. It seems that happiness and youth are the two most sought after conditions. There are only two drugs that can produce these states of existence. Correctitol, is a new wonder drug. It doesn’t necessarily correct things in your life, but in time it dulls your alertness making your life seem problem free. The longer you take Correctitol, self motivation is persistently throttled down. This makes reasoning unnecessary. Voila! Everything is corrected. The only side effects are, rash, tightness in the chest, swelling of the mouth, bleeding gums, rectal sores and ringing in the ears. Of course, you must agree, the benefits far outweigh the risks.

Then there is the miracle drug, Reversitol. It seems that with just a few doses, wrinkles vanish, muscles tighten, everything that dangles is made perky again and the lust for life is fully restored. Or is it just lust? Anyway, the trade off is the risk of a decrease in self control, relentless toy seeking, avoiding responsibility, of course, judgment declines and very possibly emotional outbursts will ensue.

Overdose is common; a man was reported to be holding his breath at an El Pollo Loco fast food restaurant when he was told they were out of lemonade. In another incident, a woman was caught draping toilet paper on her neighbor’s hydrangea bushes in the middle of the night. When asked why, she said that showing was better than telling. Her neighbor is a doodie head. Reported side effects are acute renal failure, fatal stroke, arterial spasm, pulselessness and nausea.

Sometimes the commercials make me laugh harder than a good romantic comedy. I mean, seriously, the side effects mentioned are downright horrifying. Yet the desire to be young and happy is strong enough to dismiss the warnings and take a walk on the wild side.

I was in the grocery store the other day and strolled over to the produce section. I picked up one of my favorite apples (Pink Lady) to inspect it and there was a rather large sticker on the side that read: May cause regularity, reduce risk of lung cancer, lower blood cholesterol, facilitate hair growth, reduce wrinkles, improve bowel function and promote bone growth. I almost threw it back in the bin. Honest to God. Now they’re listing side effects on the fruit.

Ventrilo Kissed

I’m not a big fan (no pun intended) of air kisses. They often seem to say, “I’d kiss you if I really liked you, but since I don’t, I’d rather not soil my lips.”

I was watching the movie, ‘What About Bob’, again… and I always laugh when Dr. Leo Marvin talks to his daughter, Anna, using their look-alike puppet dolls. She fiercely resists but finally gives in to have their puppet conversation in which she tells him exactly what she really thinks.

Wouldn’t using puppets be an excellent way to communicate? It’s a little bit like the air kiss. You’re there, but not. Why don’t we all get look-alike puppets and make it a universal way to communicate? Imagine how many things you could say to someone who intimidates you if it was your doll who said it. Poof! All responsibility is removed from you and put on something inanimate to sop up the blame.

Getting stopped for a traffic violation is always unnerving but what if I just whip out my puppet and say, “Gosh officer, you must have been following me for miles but I swear I don’t have any donuts.”

I used to feel dreadfully inadequate around other artists. I often criticized my own work before they could. There was one very arrogant artist that I would have loved to address with my puppet. “Wow, you sure have a lot of talent. You’re ice sculptures are amazing but what do you do with them after they melt?”

No one likes reporting for jury duty. How about responding like this, “yes, I pride myself on being able to spot a guilty person from miles away, your honor. By the way, I’ve often wondered, what exactly are you wearing under that robe?”

Gossipy co-workers? “You heard it through the grape vine? Why don’t you swing through that word of mouth jungle of yours on the more advanced, Neolithic Echo Jungle vine? It’s much more reliable with information, faster and, oh yeah, when you’re through with that spellbinding expedition be sure to come back and tell me all about it!”

Bad Drivers? Let your puppet give them a piece of your mind. “Yeah, that’s right, don’t adjust your speed to freeway driving, just cut me off and poke along so we’ll both be late.” For this conversation your puppet will need to be equipped with an extended middle digit.

Snooty store clerks are particularly annoying to me. I would love to take out my puppet me. “Why are you so high and mighty? Is it company policy for you to act like a condescending moron? You’re probably living off commission and depend on goofy people like me to buy your crap!”

You can probably think of lots of other conversations within your circle of fiends. Did I say fiends? I meant friends. Kiss, kiss.

C P ....eeewwww

My husband was cleaning out our hobby room and found one of his old video games, StarCraft. He remembered how much he loved playing it and offered to show me how I could master the basics in no time. I haven’t been into video games since Ms. Pac-Man and I think I became obsessed with that because it involved eating dots and chasing after bouncing fruit. Nevertheless, he wanted me to try his game because if I can get up to speed, we can play online with others. Heh.

He sat with me, offering helpful tips as I completed the first two missions, which took three hours!
It went something like this:

BJ: Okay, click on your SCV.
Me: What’s that?
BJ: That’s your energy collecting vehicle.
Me: Where?
BJ: Down at the bottom of the screen.
Me: That little thing?
BJ: Yeah, left click on it and then right click on the minerals.
Me: Oh! He responded to me.
BJ: Yeah. Now build another worker.
Me: I wish I could have done that a week ago. How do I do that?
BJ: Go to your menu, then click on build and select a worker.
Me: That’s easy, now what?
BJ: EXPAND, always expand! Don’t be afraid to.
Me: Do I look like I’m afraid of expanding? I pulled at the waist band of my sweat pants.
BJ: Okay, now you want to collect gas for energy.
Me: That isn’t hard after aunt Birdie’s green bean casserole.
BJ: You’re gonna need all your resources to defend yourself while you’re being attacked on your next mission.
Me: I’m gonna be attacked?
BJ: Big time.
Me: You know, before we get into the attacking mission, I need to switch over to FarmVille and harvest my Pattypan Squash.
BJ: Squash!
Me: Yeah, I have to plant rice too. I’m just forty points away from level one of Rice mastery.
BJ: Okay, baby, but look, you’re being attacked by the Zergs.
Me: Oh my God, this is worse than being attacked by the Goldman’s at my office holiday party. Where’s my SUV?
BJ: No, you have to build Marines and bunkers.
Me: I’ll bet my squash is starting to wither.
BJ: Defense, defense! Where are your firebots?
Me: What are those?! I was madly clicking on the enemy, not realizing that it was a useless exercise.
BJ: Those guys throw flames. Build some!
Me: Does it have to be so violent? My marines are being splattered all over the ground.
BJ: What is your SCV doing just sitting there? Mine more minerals. Go, go, go!
Me: They’re demolishing my power depot!
BJ: You need minerals to build more. You should have been doing that all along.
Me: Now you tell me.
I kept clicking on the Zergs knowing it was futile.
BJ: That’s okay baby, you’ll get ‘em next time.
He patted me on the head and went to our hobby room to work on some music.

I just sat there panting, and reliving the stress I had just experienced from my total annihilation. With a shaky hand, I opened my browser and went to Facebook. I clicked on the FarmVille icon and there it was, my peaceful little farm. All the cows, chickens, goats and horses were in their places, right where I left them. All my ducks were in one straight row, and my Pattypan squash was ripe for harvesting. There’s no place like home.

TIME LAPSE

I was invited to a time management seminar. Time management? Really? I began to wonder. Can time really be managed? That question kept repeating in my mind until evening when I went to bed. The debate rolled over and over in my mind like a pair of pants in the dryer, with a quarter in one pocket.

I finally drifted off and found myself dreaming about it. I had been given the assignment of disassembling Big Ben and the sending parts out for cleaning. I took my job very seriously and demanded to see Sir Benjamin Hall, who ordered the original fourteen-ton bell in 1859. Of course, no one could put me in touch with him and I was incensed. I decided Big Ben was behind the times and searched out a new bell maker. Since I knew that the Swiss make incredibly accurate time pieces, I contacted Axel Acklin, whom I was told, comes from a long line of watchmakers and was now employed by Ryser Kentfield, one of the most well-known watchmakers in Switzerland. I hired him to help with Big Ben but soon became aware of some issues that could hinder the project.

Axel had a thick-as-molasses Swiss accent that was extremely difficult to understand. I asked him to use his best English and he reached out and slapped me across the face. I expected to hear a smacking sound but instead it sounded like the bell that ends a round in a boxing match.
Suddenly, he was like a drill sergeant shouting out directives in perfect English. The strange thing is, he yodeled after each order.

“Hey you! 60 minutes! You might be famous on CBS, but around here you work for me! I want that big hand to be dismantled inside of an hour! And you! Sixty seconds! You may have waltzed for a minute with Chopin, but I expect you to fox trot around here, and for a whole lot longer! You, time over there, don’t start thinking you’re special because people believe you heal things! Yeah right, I suspect it’s the antibiotics. Think you’re a big shot do you? Just because you have an American magazine named after you? And where the hell did the day go? Probably out brooding about his bad hair. Has anyone ordered him to have a nice one? Come on you bunch of Nannos, is your hourglass half empty or half full?! It’s showtime, where is everyone? I’m going call attendance and when I do, you better say say present!”

I began to wonder if I had made a mistake. I could see that Axel was taking my job into realms that would have caused Sir Benjamin Hall to roll over in his grave. Big Ben had now been replaced with a Swiss Chalet Cuckoo clock complete with hand-carved figures of alp climbers in leiderhosen, beer maidens, farmers, cows and roosters. On the hour, a great green Cuckoo bird emerged from the gigantic doors and emitted a deafening cuckoo sound followed by a music box version of The Happy Wanderer.

I was aghast at the disrespect Axel had shown to one of England’s most cherished landmarks. He laughed like a sinister villain and confessed that he didn’t work for Ryser Kentfield at all, but was really a member of The Black Forest Society and had plans to steal all time from the world. Big Ben would now be known as Big Cuckoo!

In time, I was mobbed by angry Englishmen and tossed onto the street hungry and timeless. I was begging for spare time and living in a cardboard Timex box. I was nearly unconscious when a light appeared in front of me and a figure appeared. He said his name was Sir Benjamin Hall and he put a hand on my shoulder. His touch was electric. He asked me a question. “Can time really be gained, beat, killed, marked, kept, gained, lost, borrowed, multiplied, pressed, small, big, behind, out, in, taken, parted, filled, right, wrong, ahead of us, or managed?”

I tried to answer but all that came out of my mouth was the sound of a cuckoo.

He smiled warmly and asked, “You have a lifetime, but are you having the time of your life?”

That’s when I awoke and smiled. I finally had my answer.