September 24, 2009

Stepping Forward

Life is a constant cycle of struggle and complacency.

We struggle to establish ourselves, to define ourselves ... and then somehow we allow others to label and box us. (You don't need to go to college. You can't run fast or sing well. You shouldn't have kids. Whatever the stories they tell us.)

If we're lucky, we wake up from that dream imposed upon us and strike out, fight back, look to establish a re-defined self with others. We fight to say, that is not who I am ... listen to me ... watch me ... understand who I really am.

And at some point, the complacency begins again. This time with a new definition.

You see, it's impossible to struggle and fight every minute of your life. So while we often rail against ourselves for allowing that complacency to set in yet again ... it's a necessary resting period, a time of incubation and reflection even if we're not aware that's what we're doing. It's a time of growth beneath the surface.

True courage, the life well-lived, is recognizing when those moments of complacency are over and it is time to act despite how scary that may be. Because breaking that complacency even with a single small fight, a word, a step ... that's the hardest thing that we ever do.

A life well-lived requires periods of rest ... or we burn out without ever having accomplished anything at all.

Do you use your times of complacency to recover and then to reflect?

Or are you using them as an excuse to hide and stop growing?

Is it time for that step forward?

Posted by Red Monkey at 10:18 PM | Comments (2) | Struggles | Stumble

September 20, 2009

There Is No System

This is part three. For part one, please read "When I Was 30."

Sorry, folks, didn't mean to leave you hanging for a week for the next post, but it's been a crazy week. I probably shouldn't take time out to write this post ... but you've been waiting long enough.

I am good at getting by. I should probably be grateful for that talent, skill ... luck, whatever it is. But I'm not. I'm tired of it.

You see, that skill at getting by was what kept me going with cancer for two years before the diagnosis. Perhaps if I'd not been able to get by, my doctor would have run a simple CBC and questioned my hemoglobin count. Perhaps the cancer would have been caught earlier. Perhaps if I had just quit my job when the welfare worker told me to, I would not have had mounds of bills that I worried about paying even more than I worried about the cancer killing me.

And that skill at getting by started when I was much younger. It kept me from getting help in numerous situations as a child - learning disabilities, problems at home, problems with bullies at school. I saw the look on whatever tired adult's face and knew they did not want to deal with the issue if I could manage to deal with it. Not wanting to disappoint an adult or make them feel like I couldn't handle something ... I always found a way to handle it. Even if it meant that I simply suffered in silence.

Here I had done what I thought were the right things - got a recommendation of a doctor from a friend. A good doctor, supposedly. When I started getting sick I went to the doctor. And things fell apart because he knew I had no insurance. He assumed that I would be unable to pay for the simplest blood test. It wasn't true, but he didn't ask and I didn't know what to ask for.

At any rate, I lucked out and was given treatments. I was looking at a mountain of expenses from the chemo treatments themselves to the nearly week-long hospital stay complete with biopsy surgery, anesthesiologist and X-ray bills, CT scans, a PET scan.

After it was all over, I was hired for a full-time teaching gig - with health insurance. I was making more money than I had ever made, though it still wasn't much. I now had to figure out how I was going to pay off my college debt, pay off the debt I'd run up just living and working minimum wage jobs, trying to buy my books cheaply, fixing my clunker car so I could get to chemo treatments ...

It wasn't going to happen.

I tried to rearrange reality for a while - "I reject your reality and substitute my own" (you have to say this in Mythbusters' Adam Savage voice - but it just wasn't working.

And to be honest, I was tired of trying to make everything work by myself.

I had paid for college myself, mostly. I'd moved out at 19 and began working full time whilst I went to school. Seven years of working full time and going to school. Putting semesters on charge cards because I had no other way to pay and a belief in my future. Car repairs on the charge card because I made just enough to cover bills and have $20 every two weeks for spending money. Then there was the 1000 mile move from Texas to go to graduate school. I sold much of my furniture in an attempt to both reduce stuff I needed to move and fund the gas money and U-Haul rental.

I was doing what I had gone to school to do and was surprised to discover that despite what we'd been told, getting a full-time teaching gig was not going to be a piece of cake as the baby-boomers weren't quite ready to retire and certainly weren't retiring in the droves we'd been told to expect. So despite now having a full-time teaching gig and health insurance, we were a dime a dozen and paid accordingly.

I did what I had to do with a great deal of soul-searching ... a great deal of self-flagellation ... a great deal of telling myself that this was one of those hard choices that adults just have to make sometimes.

I declared bankruptcy. I, who had never missed any bill payment before this. I, who had rarely if ever had a bill paid late (and if so, was probably only by a day or so). I, who was paranoid about making sure there was enough money for bills.

My credit was now toast. I was out from under the ridiculous mound of bills from the chemotherapy, the hospital, surgery ... and from my college bills. And all I could think about was the fact that I shirked my responsibilities. I had meant to find a way to pay for all of those things during college. And if I hadn't gotten sick, I would have paid it all off. I felt horrible for agreeing to treatment, to the hospital, to the doctors, and knowing that there was just such a slim chance that I could pay.

But what choice did I have, in the end? Die or live?

No one should have to make that choice.

No one should skip regular doctor visits because they don't think they can afford to pay the doctor, or for the medicine or treatments if necessary.

And the doctors deserve to get paid for the work that they do.

I do not want to trust my life to an insurance company whose focus is the bottom line and how much money they can give their shareholders and their executives.

I do not trust the office manager who told another doctor (not the idiot I described earlier) that she could not spend more than 10 minutes per patient because it was not cost-effective.

I do not trust the drug companies who wine and dine doctors, nurses and support staff with awesome free lunches and swag so that the doctors will prescribe their particular drug.

I do not trust the drug companies or insurance companies who lobby congress to maintain their status quo and fatten their bottom lines.

I do not know what the answer is. I only know that we are broken right now. Change is frightening.

But dying because you're scared you can't afford treatment just shouldn't be a concern. For any of us.

Posted by Red Monkey at 7:21 PM | Comments (0) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Struggles | Stumble

September 16, 2009

Would You Like to Learn to Love?

As I've said many, many times before, I was an odd child. Instead of listening to Guns N Roses and Beastie Boys, I was listening to the Kingston Trio and Peter, Paul and Mary.

Tonight I am beyond crushed to hear that Mary Travers, who had been battling leukemia, has passed after the effects of chemo and a bone marrow transplant were just too much. It's especially poignant since I've just been discussing that it's been 10 years since I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma - kind of a cousin of leukemia. (Hey, it's the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society.)

I remember going to StarFest in Dallas ... on EDS grounds, where my dad worked for Ross Perot. I was ridiculously excited to be seeing Peter Paul and Mary for the first time. I hardly knew what to do with myself. One of my dad's sisters took me - she was amused at how excited I was, but she was pretty darn excited to be there herself.

A few years later, I was out of the house and the StarFest venue had changed ... but I went again to see Peter Paul and Mary. That time I got to meet Noel Paul Stookey and Mary Travers. I was shocked. I actually got to talk to them! I don't remember what I said ... something inane, I'm sure. I got their autographs, but it was on a check register or something, which I eventually took for an actual check register and lost.

The only time I would pause on the local PBS affiliate during pledge drive time ... you guessed it ... was when they were showing Peter Paul and Mary.

There was just something magical about watching them perform. Mesmerizing. I could - and did - get completely lost in it and got very upset if someone interrupted that time.

One of the concerts, Mary Travers was going on and on about how rebellious her children were - they married Republicans! I snickered and can remember wondering what the hell - how could her children have done that to her? LOL I guess I'm a little protective of "my" people sometimes. She gave a wonderful and hysterical talk about her kids ... poking fun at herself along the way.

And at another concert she talked about how grandmothers always have a picture of their grandkids. And there's two types of grandmas. One who asks if you want to see a picture of the grandkid and she pulls out a single, nice picture. The second type pulls out a fold-out wallet of millions of pictures. Then she said she was a Hollywood? celebrity? grandma, and so, by definition was excessive. Did we want to see a picture of her grandchild? Of course there was a rousing affirmative - she whipped out a monster sized poster of the baby and everyone laughed. (Also, I think everyone could actually SEE the baby, the poster was that big.)

She went on to talk about all the fun things she'd discovered or rediscovered by being a grandma. It was so obvious that she loved her kids and doted on the grandkids.

Ever since I heard this evening, I've had one song playing in the back of my head. Probably not a typical one that most folks think of, but it was off one of their albums from the 80s, I think.

Would you like to learn to dance?
Well I can show you how
Gotta book here, all you need to know
We can draw the Arthur Murray patterns right here on the floor.
All you have to do is follow.
And then we'll dance around the room a while
You can lead now if you want to, I don't mind.
Nothin' I wouldn't do to see your smile
Go dancin' 'cross your face in perfect time
Go dancin' 'cross your face in perfect time.

Would you like to learn to sing?
Well I can teach you how
Here's an old tune that's good for a start
I can sing all the high parts if I really try
And you can play along on your guitar
And we'll sing together for a little while
Let the harmonies go ringin' in your mind
And we sing so much better when we sing with a smile
All the notes come out so sweet and high.
All the notes come out so sweet and high.

Would you like to learn to love?
Well, that's somethin' else again
I can show you how to sing and how to dance
I have no keys to open your heart
And no way I can make you take the chance.
And so we'll dance around the room again
And we'll sing a tune or two to pass the time
And smile a while and by the time the dance is through
There might be some love for us to find
There might be some love for you and me to find.

Posted by Red Monkey at 9:31 PM | Comments (3) | Struggles | Stumble

September 2, 2009

When I Was Thirty

I didn't feel well. I was tired and run down. I'd been feeling that way for a while, but I thought I was just getting older.

I was 30.

I'd actually been going to the doctor for the last two years. One little dorky infection after another. Nothing big in and of itself ... but I was not a sickly person. So I was confused at this continuous roll of illness - it just didn't make sense. But, I figured I was just getting older.

I threw myself into my work - I was teaching college writing at the time as an adjunct. That's a fancy way of saying "you teach tons of classes, try to do research because it's still publish or perish, and you get no benefits and not much pay either." But I loved it. It was where I was meant to be.

'Round about this time ten years ago, I was ecstatic - the start of a new school year, fresh students, fresh challenges. The promise of a better paying gig with benefits was being dangled for the next school year. I was content. Actually, I was more than content - I was exactly where I wanted to be, or close enough. Naturally, I would have preferred to be in Texas instead of Indiana, but still. I was doing what I loved and thoroughly enjoying myself.

Well, except for not having much money and a load of school debt from putting myself through college and grad school. And the no health insurance meant that these pesky doctor visits were more than an inconvenience, they were damned expensive even though the doc didn't run any tests. And those anti-biotics? Damn, some of those are expensive as hell.

Still and all, it was good.

I got sick again. Good grief. Now my doctor wanted to run a freaking AIDS test. He wouldn't run a simple CBC (blood count - most basic of blood tests), but he wanted to run an AIDS test. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that while I seemed to have something systemic that I couldn't shake, I did not have AIDS; I'd not been exposed to HIV and I knew I was in one of the lowest risk groups possible.

The semester was starting to wrap up, things were moving at a frenzied pace at work and I just couldn't shake the feeling that my doctor was an idiot. So, the Monday before Thanksgiving, I gave up on my doc and went to a "doc-in-a-box" after I was done teaching for the day and was seen by a very nice semi-retired doctor who just couldn't give up the practice of medicine.

I told him what had been going on over the last two years, the constant dorky little infections ... the case of thrush (which actually made me avoid Coke like the plague and just drink water), the ridiculous amount of tiredness I was having.

"We're going to run a CBC blood test, first," he announced in his amiable and grandfatherly way.

"Is that expensive? I don't have health insurance," I explained.

"Not expensive at all. Roll up your sleeve."

He took blood, left with the vial ... came back and asked for my "regular" doctor's name again.

I tried to listen at the door. It was obvious this was officially Not Good ™. But I couldn't really hear much except that my new best doctor-friend here was handing my old ex-doctor his arse on a silver platter.

He comes in with quite the wonderful bedside manner but makes it clear that

1. He's pissed at my ex-doctor


2. I am to go to my ex-doctor tomorrow for a referral to a specialist


3. He's not real happy that I'm going to drive myself home (what? I drove there


4. He's pissed at my ex-doctor


5. I am not to miss the appointment with my ex-doctor because I need the referral he's going to give me


6. He's not happy that ex-doctor couldn't work me in right that very minute


7. Did I mention it was obvious he was pissed at my doctor?

Oh, and he mentioned that the reason I was tired was because my hemoglobin was a 5.8 on that little CBC basic blood test. Yeah, you can die in the 4 range .... I guess there was a reason everyone kept telling me I looked pale. And here I thought it was just my Irish roots showing ....

Since I only taught MWF, I could have gone in to ex-doctor at any time, but he couldn't work me in before early afternoon. When I arrived, he was sweating bullets. Seriously. This was now officially Really Not Good ™.

He asked me a series of questions: how tired was I, did my rash (the original reason I went to see him was a rash on my calves) get worse after a shower, how was I sleeping, did i get sweaty whilst sleeping at night. All things I had been telling him over the course of the last two years (as the symptoms popped up). He paled more with every answer I gave. He mumbled something, disappeared to set up the referral appointment. Came back to tell me when the appointment was (not until the next day - dammit, I had to teach the next day).

He also said he would treat me for free if I needed anything that the specialist couldn't do. That I was to keep the appointment and ... most chilling ... if the specialist said I needed to go to the hospital, I was not to think of the cost, I was just to go.

Shit.

So, for the third time in as many days, I went to a doctor the next day. Ex-doctor SAID this guy was a blood specialist, but when I arrived, it was a Hematology & Oncology office.

Oh. Feck. Me.

It's 1999; I have a master's degree; I have yet to have a year when I break $20,000; I have no health insurance and have had zero time to build up any savings - hell, I'm still in debt from school. Shit, shit, shit.

They do a bone marrow test and other things I don't recall and then ask me which hospital I want to go to.

Umm, excuse me?

I am informed in no uncertain terms that I will be going to a hospital for a biopsy and overnight stay - at the very least they need to get some units of blood into me. (I believe the final count was four or five units of blood - visitors thought I was wearing lipstick, no, no - that was just the first time I'd had blood in my face in months and months.)

So, the day before Thanksgiving, I'm admitted to the hospital for the first time in my life.

Honestly, I began writing out a will. This simply did not look good. And then, on Saturday, I got the diagnosis - Hodgkin's disease. Since one of my favourite movies as a kid was Brian's Song, I figured I was definitely done for as this was what Brian Piccolo had had (or so I thought - looks like he actually had a different type of cancer - embryonal cell carcinoma). However, the nurse was practically giddy -

"No, no, this is a good cancer, if you're going to have cancer."

And he was right - the cure rate is very high regardless of which stage the disease is in when caught. Which is a damn good thing as my idiot doctor who never even ran a simple CBC had let my Hodgkin's reach the cusp of Stage IV. Actually, I'm pretty sure it was Stage IV, but my oncologist was trying to be as hopeful as possible.

I was released from the hospital Monday afternoon - too late to teach class, which pissed me off. (And I think that's why I wasn't released until late Monday afternoon, too, dammit.) Luckily I had only missed Wednesday's class - and really not many students planned to be there the day before Thanksgiving - it was more of a workday anyhow. So really I just missed Monday's class. Not too bad.

Ten years ago.

to be continued ....

Posted by Red Monkey at 6:00 PM | Comments (2) | Struggles | Stumble

June 22, 2009

Debt Paid, But Beware the Hidden Fees

On first blush, this sounds like a good local law: "prohibit those who have sexually abused minors from living within 2,500 ft of anywhere where children congregate, such as schools, libraries and parks." (BBC article) In fact, this sounds like common sense. Most pedophiles seem to be repeat offenders operating under compulsion - so just remove the temptation, as much as possible. This Miami law sounds like it's a good thing, right?

Before I go any further, let me point out one fact: I am a survivor. I know first-hand the types of things some of these offenders have done and the pain and long-term effects those actions can have.

That said, the law in Miami which forbids these convicted offenders from living within 2500 feet of anyplace kids might congregate means these folks are living in a tent city under a bridge, because there is nowhere in Miami for them to live otherwise. They are literally being dropped off by Florida's correctional system at the bridge with no money, no water, no food ... no toilet facilities ... they are being issued driver's licenses which list the bridge as their "home" address.

Dr. Pedro Jose Greer of Florida International University (Dean of Humanities, Health and Society) says "This is the stupidest damn law I have ever seen and it's purely mandated by revenge without any consideration for the well-being of these people - who deserve better despite the severity of their crimes."

I agree.

Yes. That's what I said. It is one thing if our justice system were able to sentence someone to a life in a tent city for their crimes - some kind of Coventry area. However, we don't do that. We sentence people to time in jail - and I will certainly be the first to say we often don't sentence them long enough for the things they've done. But that's the way the system is currently. We sentence them to time served and then we say they've paid their debt to society and we set them free. Their rights are curtailed. They are going to find it difficult to find employment.

Their lives are not going to be easy. Perhaps they will be easier than the lives of the children they violated, but that is not the issue. Our justice system is not really built on "an eye for an eye" in a strict, literal fashion. We have instead opted to say that murder is equal to twenty years to life in prison, for example. We have opted to say that a rape equals, on average in the U.S., a sentence of 11.8 years, with an actual time served being more like five and half years. (source, source) We have, in some states, opted to say that aggravated rape is equal to the death penalty (Louisiana). Some states offer to reduce sentences if the convicted will undergo chemical castration - that's another controversy/issue altogether. But our justice system is based on: serve time, pay your debt, rejoin society, debt paid.

These consequences are all things that most Americans know about our justice system and our society. You commit a serious crime, you're going to do time and then you are going to have a difficult time getting a job when you get out. As a registered sex offender, you're going to be required to also tell the system where you're living. In many areas, you are going to have to live a certain distance from schools, et cetera.

But Miami's law goes too far and in my opinion becomes cruel and unusual punishment. What's worse is this punishment occurs after we claim these folks have paid their debt to society. If we want to punish sex offenders more severely, we need to change the laws about their incarceration times because that is how we handle crime and punishment in the U.S.

To condemn these people to a tent city AFTER their time in jail is to, in essence, sink to the level of their crime. The city of Miami is violating people who are already vulnerable.

Think about it apart from their crime: dropped off at a bridge. Under the bridge, you have huts and tents. People living in squalor with no running water, no sanitary facilities ... people with little hope of living any kind of normal life again. Really think about this ... drop off people in an area where they are deprived of everything, an area which is actually worse than prison because now they don't have a guarantee of shelter or food ... or even basic sanitation. Where is their motivation to behave? Where is their motivation to become productive members of society again? It seems to me they have only two intelligent choices: leave Miami (if the terms of their sentence allow it and they can afford to leave, that is), or commit another serious crime and go back to prison where they are guaranteed shelter, food and sanitation. They lose freedom, but gain some security.

We know, from studying modern correctional facilities that many inmates aren't rehabilitated in the typical prison, that instead, many of them learn new skills in illegal activities because they learn from each other.

Let's think about that a moment, shall we?

Is it wise to turn some 70 pedophiles loose together in a tent town where they have no real hope of ever being a part of normal society again? Don't you think at least some of them are going to plan more offenses together and maybe learn from each others' mistakes?

I mean if we're not going to consider the humanity of these folks - which I think is a cruel and petty way to be - at least can we look at consequences of this kind of petty punishment?

In my own petty hours when I really think of what I was forced to go through ... how my entire life was shaped and warped by events over which I had no control at all ... yes, I want petty punishments for those responsible. But I am bigger than my id. Instead I would prefer things like mandatory counseling, stiffer prison sentences, making them pay for the victim's counseling ... up front "fees" that are in line with our justice system's precedents.

It's not right to hold these folks in a kind of double-jeopardy punishment where the sentence served is only the smallest part of their true punishment.

While I would love to see the punishment of sex offenders in general intensified, this is not the way to do it - to tell them they've paid their debt, but now there's all of these hidden fees to pay which total quite a bit more than the original bill ....

And oh, how ironic is it that I write this post as Father's Day 2009 slips away?

Posted by Red Monkey at 1:02 AM | Comments (3) | Never Underestimate the Power of Human Stupidity | Struggles | Stumble

April 7, 2009

Just ... Gone

Spoiler Alert:
If you, like me, didn't watch the 4/6 episode of House Monday night, if, in fact, you have still not seen it, click away quickly. In fact, you should probably avoid the internet completely until you've watched it. That is, if you don't want the big plot twist revealed. Personally, I should have known not to even log in to Twitter today. *sigh*

Okay, so Los Interwebz are abuzz with last night's episode of House. People are talking about the "shocking" death of Dr. Lawrence Kutner. Of all of the various underlings, it seemed that Kutner was the most well-adjusted. He was a geek. He had a great sense of humour. He had some of House's crazy ideas without House's callous obsession with learning the answers no matter the emotional cost (or just about any other cost).

As it turns out, Kal Penn (who played Kutner) has been teaching at the University of Pennsylvania. He was working for Obama's campaign. He's pursuing a graduate certificate in international security from Stanford University. He decided he wanted to pursue political science more than he wanted to pursue acting - at least right now.

That's some of the background.

Now, Los Interwebz have gone bonkers about the way in which Kutner's character was "deleted" from the show.

You see, people insist that there was no warning that Kutner was going to commit suicide. The other characters on the show certainly seemed to think they'd had no clues. The viewers seem to agree and many are calling it a cheap dramatic punch.

I have to say, I very much disagree.

Before I explain I should say something about one of my favourite movies - it relates, trust me.

That movie is Joss Whedon's Serenity. The pilot in this movie is a geeky li'l boy and definitely one of the most beloved characters in the series (and the movie). You can guess where this is going, right? (Cuz if not, it's a spoiler ... ) When we're most of the way through the movie, but still have plenty of time left to go, he pulls off a beautiful maneuver and they all land safely. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. And then a part of another ship bursts through and skewers him. Dead. Major character, major beloved character, taken away suddenly and seemingly without warning. We spent all that time getting invested in these characters and no one writing the show even considered putting a red shirt on the guy so we'd know not to get too accustomed to him. We had no real warning. That's just unfair.

Actually, it's very much like life, which is generally a theme Joss pursues in everything he does. He's not about dumbing down his shows to match some Hollywood misguided concept of what we'll understand or accept.

Now, back to House and Dr. Kutner.

The show has, in many ways, reminded me of some of Joss's shows. It's more "Hollywood" or "network" than realistic, to be sure. Still, the characters are a little more complex than many network shows. Motivations are a prime focus of the show and they're not always the motivations that seem easy. It's a show known for try some intriguing twists - and for tackling some serious issues around the topic of depression.

So. Does it surprise me that the tv show House killed off a major character by suicide? No. Does it surprise me that it was done suddenly and without much warning? No. Was I surprised that Kutner was the one who killed himself?

Yes ... and no.

Do I think there was no warning?

No.

Kutner was pretty well adjusted, yes. And he was a wonderfully fun character. But he was troubled and there was no doubt about that. He was adopted; his parents were shot in front of him when he was 6; he didn't have a steady love interest; he didn't really talk of friends. His ethics were quite questionable - after all he started a website capitalizing on House's reputation - and he talked about depression. In fact, to a certain extent, he defended suicide to Taub in a couple of episodes. Insisted that it was not necessarily an "idiotic" choice.

One writer states, it was "like the writers realized they hadn't done anything useful with Kutner in all this time and decided to make suicidal lemonade out of superfluous lemons." His fear, and I can understand it given the last season or so, is that there will be no overarching impact on the characters after Kutner's death. He says:

But based on how the show's been operating for a good long while now, I don't see his death having any real impact on House, and only slightly more of one on the others. And if I'm right, then Kutner was sacrifice for the sake of a Very Special Episode -- and for an incredibly creepy cross-promotional website (that I'm not going to bother linking to, or else it might help encourage future sites along the same line) -- and that's a waste of a good actor, if not a memorable character.

I tend to disagree with Mr. Sepinwall about this. We've seen some long term effects on all of the characters over the last year - certainly Wilson has been deeply affected by Amber's death. Taub is starting to show some long-term effects of many of his decisions. I think House is as well. He keeps trying new solutions to his pain ... and then gets scared and wants to get back to "normal." But I think something is breaking down in him ... he's beginning to "get" how he affects other people and he's beginning to not like that effect.

However, the show is still a mainstream network show, not an indie flick, and I certainly don't think they've done with any of the characters nearly as much as they should have. There's no overarching plot consistency as there is on the best shows television has offered (shows like Joan of Arcadia, Saving Grace, and even Dexter). Instead, there's a loose theme that runs through all of the episodes, but the focus seems to be the Scooby Doo mystery of the current patient's illness.

With the caliber of cast and writers, someone needs to let them do the show right ... to really explore the depth of these characters and not be so terribly constrained by one hour, once a week. Take a risk and break out of the mainstream and give us the depth we need.

Kutner's death could be a step in that direction. For now, it's a warning shot to all of us ... to remember that we need to be involved with those around us. Not just a surface engagement, but reaching out to get to know each other.

See, no one really reached out to know Kutner. He was the cute, silly geek. No one needed to really worry about him.

And that's how it often is in real life as well. Not everyone slashes a wrist and cries about it. Not everyone comes to work drunk just for the attention. Not everyone shoots up the American Civic Association.

Sometimes they just disappear. Without warning. Without a reason that we can fathom.

Just ... gone.

Posted by Red Monkey at 6:36 PM | Comments (0) | People Say I Have ADHD, But I Think - Hey Look, A Chicken | Struggles | Stumble