Over the weekend, I saw an episode of “Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.” I heard about this show in passing while watching other cheesy VH1 shows, and I sorta shrugged it off. “What reality shows will they think of next?” I guess there was a little bit of shock and appall regarding the show–people ranting about the ethics of exploiting D-List celebrities in their vulnerable moments.

After seeing the first two episodes, I think it’s great. I’m not the only one.

It’s not easy to watch. It’s really painful to see former “Grease” tough guy Jeff Conaway slumped over, drooling, rambling incoherently and then screaming in pain as the drugs work their way out of his system and then watching him make 57 different excuses as to why things needed to go exactly his way.

Rehab and addictions are ugly, and this show shows it. But I’m sure as it continues, we’ll see some touching moments. I hope one of those moments is Daniel Baldwin dropping the lies, the program-speak and getting real. He’s a freakin’ robot right now, and Dr. Drew is SO on to him. I can’t wait for the confrontation to come, when Daniel is called to the carpet on his phoney-baloneyness.

People, many whom I’m sure haven’t even seen the show, criticize how people are being exploited because, I guess, you can only reveal your true self and your inner pain when in private. But is that really true? Teenagers across the Internet post videos on Youtube talking about their eating disorders, their depression, their self-abuse. People are blogging, with their real names and their real photos, describing their history of sexual promiscuity and drug addictions. Whose to say that no one is feeling better when they share?

I have my own things I keep to myself. Sometimes I think about writing a little more personally–really talking about hopes, fears, pain, sadness, disappointments, dreams. But I still find myself going to the old pen and journal–that’s where the deep stuff goes. But whose to say what I’m doing is any better or more therapeutic? I think I’d feel more real and more authentic if I could share some deeper stuff with others. I think we’d all benefit if we could be more truthful about our fears, our disappointments, our sad moments, our dreams and our wishes.

A panel of experts may disagree.

But until then, I’ll watch “Celebrity Rehab” and hope for the best. I’ll also hope that the show goes a long way in helping people feel more comfortable about discussing what we feel must always be kept quiet.

Blogged with Flock

on the scale of sadness/anger that we used in improv class tonight to express emotion. That’s a 9 out of 10.

From the Washington Post:
At Va. Tech, Near Silence For a Student’s Anguished Cry

I don’t really know how, after the horrific happenings on campus in April 2007, that the university could merely send police to the home of a reportedly suicidal senior, police ask if he’s OK, the police are satisfied with his answer of “I’m fine,” and then the university do nothing else.

Seriously, what else do you think a suicidal/depressed person is going to say to law enforcement officers?

Mental health on college campuses is a complicated issue–no doubt. There are privacy issues (most students are legally adults), and it’s complicated when the student has withdrawn from classes and peers. It’s so easy to just be forgotten and not noticed, especially if living far enough from family and or off campus where there are no RAs or roommates. But maybe it’s time to lighten up the privacy policy, especially if parents are helping pay the bills or listed as a contact. Even my own college’s counseling services had its faults.

While it seems Daniel Kim had few, if any, friends on campus, he had online friends. Or people whom at least were concerned enough to contact the campus and give a warning. Good for them because it’s never easy to say something. People are told relentless to tell someone when it appears another person is endanger. They did the right thing, and it seems like the university really dropped the ball.

I think this blog says it best:

I have been pretty outspoken about the culpability of Virginia Tech administration in the mass murder last year. And now they’ve screwed up again. A student has killed himself.

What is Vice President, Larry Hincker’s response?

“This is an adult who lives off campus, so it’s under the police jurisdiction.”

Great answer. You uncaring, thoughtless fuck.

Yes, he was off campus. No, he wasn’t in any database. Yes, he’s an adult. He’s still a student. And now he’s dead. What if someone else from the university and intervened in the same way that you’d hope they do for reports of 19-year-old suicidal sophomore still living in a campus dorm?

I’m beginning particularly critical of Virginia Tech because after April 2007, they should never have left a call of concern go answered with a mere visit by police.

The only mention of Dan Kim is the column from Marc Fisher linked above and a story from The Roanoke Times giving the cause of death. Media ethics guide reporters away from writing about suicides. So it’s not suprising to see few other hits. (Unless it involves a public or high-profile person, or takes place in a public area, suicides are a no-no.) I do hope, however, that there are stories reporting  how and why there is a big potential failure within Virginia Tech’s counseling or crisis center services.

Blogged with Flock

Time.com has some fun Top 10 of 2007 lists (“Top 10 Worst Biz Deals,” “Top 10 Awkward Moments,” “Top 10 Medical Breakthroughs,” etc.). But for each list, each numbered selection gets it’s own page. So when I’m done seeing what No. 1 is, I have to click a link to find out No. 2, and same goes for No. 3 to 10. I tried clicking print, sometimes that puts a full article onto one giant screen.

But no, that didn’t work. No options to view it any other way. So I closed all the tabs of the lists I’m dying to see. I just don’t have the patience to click through dozens of links. I just want to skim.

But how will I go on not knowing the Top 10 animal stories?

Blogged with Flock

Awful. The movie is simply awful.

It’s cute. It’s probably the cutest car out there, and nothing felt as good as the first night I drove my sparkling galactic blue Jetta down Route 30 to a town meeting in Ligonier. The sky was clear, the weather warm, so I opened the sun roof and smiled as I glanced over the glowing red lights in the interior.

I didn’t buy the car in 2002 only because is was cute. I did a lot of research and Volkswagens had one of the highest trade-in values at the time. Perfect! I keep the car for 10 years (Why not? My grandparents’ Hondas last at least that long.) and then I trade it in at 110,000 and still get a fat $6,000 for it.

Here’s the problem…

Jettas suck.

I’ve got 71,000 miles on the 4+ year old car. And it drives like crap. Everytime I go for routine service, there’s something else wrong with the engine. Cooling something. Oxygen mass something. Catalytic something. Etc. Etc. It’s never only a $300 routine maintenance. Nope, it’s that plus, $300-$800 for more nonwarranty repairs.

And when I have paid to get things fixed, it lasts a month and drives beautifully and then goes to crap again.

So it comes as no surprise to me when I read the Simple Dollar this morning and saw that Consumer Reports says Hondas and Toyatas rock; Volkswagen are lucky enough to roll at all. VWs are rated most unreliable.

So much for that great trade-in value. Makes me really miss my Saturn. Not at all cute, but at least it never left me asking why I bothered.

Luckily, I’m not driving the car much now since I take the Metro to work. And I have AAA just in case. But how I really miss the purring engine, and the new noise, continued clicking when the turn signal switches off, is still too new for me to have grown used to it.

I’ve refused twice to buy a Civic when going for new cars. I won’t make the mistake again.

I suspect like most blog writers, I kept a journal when I was growing up. In fact, I sometimes still write it in. I’ve noticed that I have had a pattern of mostly journal writing when I’m feeling ho hum, sad or really confused. I’m starting to think I do the same with this blog.

I’m feeling so tired. And so blah. I really enjoy my job (been there more than a month). Because I came from an envrionment that was so scattered, it’s not much of a shift to work in the environment I am in now. I almost think I’m working too much, but that’s because, I think, we’re only days away from our national conference. I guess I should feel stressed, but I don’t … not like my usual “ohimigod-i-cant-do-this-the-world-is-ending” stressed outreactions. I don’t seem to care that I still have several press releases to write and distribute and a powerpoint presentation to create. Before Wednesday. Which means tomorrow.

I’m feeling more stressed that I have to dress up four days — like suit dress up — and I can probably pull off dressing up only two days. Plus I need more pantyhose because I always get runs. And my shoes won’t be comfortable. And working 14 hours each day is going to exhaust me.

Not to mention that I’m really bummed I’m not getting the amount of media I want to commit to the event. Doesn’t sound like they’ve had much in the past, but I wanted to be the one who could walk in and make it happen. Sigh.

BUT in good news, I’ll get lots of food for free.

I went grocery shopping last week for the first time in maybe two months. I spent $90ish on what I considered two weeks worth of food. I was shocked when I looked at my bank statement and saw that I was spending sometimes $10 or $12 FOR LUNCH! Multiple times aweek. So I’ve been very determined to do my grocery shopping and not succumb to buying more food out. For two weeks. And I’d reward myself with Chipotle or whatever random junk I craved.

I almost succeeded except last Friday I was dying for a Diet Coke. The vending machine in our basement was sold out, so I walked a few blocks to Union Station’s food court. The cheapest, biggest fountain drinks were at the sushi place. So naturally, I splurged on an assortment of sushi.

My new job came with a big raise. But taxes have sucked most of that increase out of my paycheck, and I’m bringing home a lot less than I calculated. There go my plans for saving $10,000 this year, tap dance lessons, golf lessons, yoga sessions, gym membership, improv classes, graphic design classes, and monthly massages. Hm. Maybe I was overcalculating how much I’d have. Now my goal is to save enough money to pay off my credit card bill.

Once I pay it off, I think I want to seriously consider looking into and talking to a plastic surgeon about my lip scar. I know. I know. I’ve had this debate with myself for more than a decade — to revise or not revise, to plump or not? I know the scar ISN’T that bad. I’m sure I’m much more conscious of it than anyone else is. I don’t even know what my options are (and Google isn’t telling me. There’s so little information available about procedures for adults). Just today I discovered another possibility — permanent makeup. Then there’s the issue of am I denying my true self? I can wax philosophical for hours, maybe longer, about my cleft as part of my being me. So that’s why I’ll work off the credit card debt, accrue acation/sick time, and deal it with hopefully this year.

Spring kickball is happening in a few weeks. Bocce in a few after that. There will be Brew helpers this year, whichis good because we’re playing three nights a week. I’m happy to see us grow, but I have mixed feelings about it means for my free time. Thank goodness for Brew help.

Like almost everyone else in the region, I trekked home and back for Thanksgiving. It’s not going home that I really don’t like. It’s returning. If I come back on Sunday, my easy four hour drive turns into a six-hour nightmare of stop. inch forward. stop. inch forward. stop. go for 100 yards and quickly swerve to avoid the … SMASH.

I had my first bumper bashing on Sunday. I was looking zoned out, looking 10 cars into the distance. I was waiting to find the next exit so I could start a sideroad meander to avoid the rest of the traffic. That’s when a tapped the Hyundai from Ohio. Sigh. Really, the damage isn’t that bad, but it was hard to tell since it was dark. No matter, it will no doubt cost $1,000 to repair because every car repair is that much, no matter how small.

And yes, my Jetta has some damage of its own. Not much. But enough that I fear the size of my next insurance premium.

I like going back to Pittsburgh. But next year I’m returning on Saturday or Monday.

Blogged with Flock

The theme for this week is not feeling like anyone listens to me. I do my best to stay quiet when I know my opinion is irrelevant. And I do my best to speak when I think something needs to be said. But sometimes I just don’t know why I bother. At work and in kickball (the two events that are 80 percent of my waking life), it seems all ears are tuned out.

I had a bit of an argument with my vice president this week, and I’m still dumbfounded about how the whole situation played out.

Beerlympics was on Saturday. This season we held it at someone’s house, and after two hours, the obnoxiousness and the noise led us to getting the boot. We saved a few hundred dollars not holding it at a bar, but I really don’t think it was worth it. Of course, I mentioned this months ago, but once again, no one listened.

The event drew a lot of attention this time, probably too many teams for any particular venue. Next season I think we should go back to a bar and just limit the number of teams that can enter. Something needs to be done differently. Will anyone listen?

The past week has been such a roller coaster.  Because most of it’s job-related, no can write about. But you know how some days you feel like everything is going your way? So you spend money on new shoes and expensive highlights? And you still feel like it’s great, so you start daydreaming, and when your boss makes you mad, you just don’t care because it’s all going sooooo well?

But then one thing happens, and another bad thing happens, and then all those good moments just seem to have never even happened?

Yep, I know what that feels like.

Work annoyed me so much on Friday that I bailed on a friend’s potluck and games night. So sorry. Hopefully, next time.