introductory apologies for butchered French...

French 101

1) je suis (excuse the missing accent marks, if any are grammatically required, it's been a while), means "i am, " in French.

2) eliminate the space between the, "Je" and the, "suis" and you are left with, "Jesuis"

3) eliminate the, "i" (as suggested in the previous blog) and you are left with, "Jesus."

____

In the movie Die Hard with a Vengeance, Samuel L. Jackson's character is named Zeus, presumably after the Greek God. If you say, "Hey, Zeus," fast enough it sounds like or Hay-zoos in Spanish,which is how the Spanish-speaking say Jesus.

If you say anything fast enough it can sound like gibberish. too slow its mumbles. as for the former, glosslalia, or speaking in tongues, is the technical name.

_____

If you look at the modern English alphabet as very crude hieroglyphics, each letter can be assigned a pictorial value.

the lowercase letter, "t" could resemble a stick man.

the lowercase letter, "u" could resemble a cup. the lowercase, "v" and uppercase, "Y" could resemble a stemless snifter and martini glass respectively.

_____


photographs themselves can be see as more elaborate hieroglyphics, rendered, by any number of interdependent mechanical/technical mechanisms.

"a picture is the tombstone of a moment," or so it has been said. is it because memory lives more richly in our imagination as evoked by dialogue. is it because, the memory is the centralizing point, the frame of reference,  and the flash of the bulb, renders our imaginations less wonder-struck.

my friend from the bookstore, said, technology has removed the fun from not knowing as any answer can be googled in a matter of seconds to the point where he added that an adolescent today has access to more information than the president did twenty years ago.



_____

seeing the romance languages as intersecting linguistic tributaries and tracing them back to their common/presumed delta (again playing the Western Civilization backwards hop-scotch) left me asking an old friend/neighbor from Santa Ana, to draw the Greek alphabet. though it was five or so years ago, it was fascinating. though the cyber interface will pale in comparison to his notated, hand-written rendering, the alphabet will be googled again to satiate the thirst for memory.

you can also think of words, prefixes, suffixes, letters, etc., that comprise them as having positive/negative value as well.

you can pay attention to the end and beginning letters of any word while dismissing the middle. see what you come up with or vice versa.

Ras Kass-ian brilliance.

Before asking be sure you are ready to receive.

This became apparent recently, but it was ultimately derived from and reminded me of a Ras Kass line from waaay back.

"Ask the question, and get the answer you didn't want to know."

inspiration strikes, (part two).

to further promote dialogue, statements (perhaps more widely and formally known as declarations, asserations, or arguments) can also be posed as questions (perhaps more widely and formally known as an interrogative or proposition. Furthermore to highlight the Greek impact on Western civlization, as they are antecedents to the Romans on the lilipads of progress, if you will, socratically, in remembrance of the Greek phiolosopher, Socrates).

free example (exempli gratia, for which the often-used abbreviation, "e.g.," stands. Translated literally from Latin it means, "free example") below.


statement : i know x

question 1: do you think that x? (personal interrogation)

question 2: is it known that x? (impersonal interrogation)

inspiration strikes...

Watched two new videos (well the first is self-referred to, and aptly so, as a, "visual piece," and was struck by the outro of the first being in conversation with the intro of the second. Both struck me as being equally unexpected given the sources.

The first video is the new Rick Ross song called, "3 Kings," featuring Dr. Dre, and Jay-Z. During what sounds like an improvised internal monologue (as opposed to a rhyming dialogic freestyle) Jay-Z, says, "It just feels different." Though he doesn't refer to what, "it" is, even his tone in describing, "it" is different than he has previously sounded when, "ramblin' off the mic."

The second video (that I just played is called, "New Day") by 50 Cent. The intro is a soundbyte from the classic  (in case you were wondering classic is used here to describe any of a handful of movies that have held my attention, contained my restlessness, inspired me with wonder and/or amusement, and subsequently have seen several times over and treasured), A Bronx Tale,
Robert De Niro, whose pre-eminence is unparalleled, is speaking (he plays bus driver, Lorenzo. Please see summary below) and says, "It don't take much strength to pull a trigger, but try to get up every morning day after day and work for a living. Let's see him (here, "him" refers to gangster Sonny, played by Chazz Palminteri, whose one-man show predated the film to my knowledge and was the inspiration for Mike Tyson's foray to the stage) try that. Then we'll see who's the real tough guy. The working man is the tough guy."

A Bronx Tale summary:

Gangster Sonny is the big man in the Bronx neighborhood of an Italian small boy named Calogero. A shooting witnessed by the boy (nicknamed C) is the starting point of a lasting bond between the gangster and the boy. Father (bus driver Lorenzo), however, disapproves. C grows up under the wing of both men, torn between his own natural honesty and his fascination with Sonny. C's neighborhood cronies get involved in theft, use of guns, and racial fights. When C falls for an African American girl, things don't get any easier. C's leap to manhood is marked by tragedy, but also by his recognition of the many faces of love.Written by Horacio Abeledo <horabe@ipcabe.uba.ar>   (source: www.imdb.com)

Those two voices both struck me as unexpected offerings from the artists (50 Cent and Rick Ross), but they both seem to speak to have reached another level in their critical conciousness/coming of age/ maturation if you will.

Besides finally getting Dr. Dre consistently back on the mic (a treat indeed), both songs and the verses put down by those involved show incredible growth and deviation from what this listener would have fore-heard.) By the way, it sounded like Alicia Keys, singing in, "New Day."

As, "visual pieces," both vids were very cool, too.


________

Sidenote: in reference to my past blog on agency/activity. It is far from lost on me that the passive voice has been/is used more than is considered conventionally appropriate/acceptable by certain writing standards.

Sometimes we are served well, to remove the "I", or at the very least de-emphasize/lowercase it, (i.e., "i". ) from our language/vocabulary and replace it with a you (or in internet shorthand, "u") to the dismay of classic grammaticians.

If you are unsure as to what is meant by active voice versus passive voice, here's an example:

"I call my mother." (Active)

"My mother is called by me." (Passive)

"My mother is called." (Passive - with aforementioned elimination that was discussed prior. Invariably, this elimination begs the question, which promotes dialogues, as to, "who," called my mother.")

Ironically enough this removal of the first person seems to be the trend in much of tech-based speak these days.

Furthermore, I translates as the word "Ego" in Latin. To mention I, is in some ways, etymologically (that means in terms of word history) and otherwise to ask for credit or a spotlight if you will to be cast upon yourself.

A wise man gives credit as a fool takes it.

Instead of asking for credit, give it.

ask. offer. repeat.

*** Credit must be given to Mr. Edward M. Gallagher III of the Belmont Hill School) whose impeccable character, as indicated by a telling segregation-era anecdote he happened to share one day in class) earned my affection and imparted a love of Latin that compelled the above exposition.

"I'm just sayin'..."

George Carlin’s comedy and the brilliance that lies there in is a gift to be treasured. The genius to be considered (he veritably predicted 9/11 in his “You are all Diseased,” special) evinces the intricate workings of a gifted communicator.  As someone who appreciates language(s), whether foreign or native, with an especial proclivity for etymology (word history, roots, history—yes, my love of Latin still runs strong) Carlin’s insight into the relationship between the minutiae of our daily language and its relationship to the assumed, unquestioned behavior that succeeds it never ceases to amaze. 

If you are a regular reader, you have probably observed that sayings, quotes, idioms, adages, etc., and references to them are in no short supply. Briefly attempting to psychologize my love for timeless wisdom, leaves me thinking that perhaps, they represent time-tested landmarks that help navigate life’s uncharted territory. As signposts, if you will, two in particular had me thinking .

Allow me to set this thought up it you will. 

My mentor also taught me that ideally, “Thought, word, and deed,” should be in alignment. That is what you think, should be what you say, and in in turn what you say (should you choose to say anything) should be what you do.”

This struck me as profound as soon as it was shared with me. Imagine an equilateral triangle with each of these words, “thought, word, and deed,” at each of the vertices. Now imagine directional arrows going both ways between each vertex. Yea, here’s where technical competence would come in handy, but hopefully your imagination and my description conveyed the image that had been described to me as representing this concept visually.

Inconsistencies, contradictions, and hypocrisy stand out to me in others, and of course in myself. Unresolved they have become sources of confusion, frustration, irritation, and in extreme cases accelerants (if not causes of) instability. Perhaps now more than ever, I have become attuned to my own desired (and in some cases demanded as I seek to cultivate discipline) unanimity between thought, word, and deed/ Perhaps this is also why I have become sensitive to the dissonance and disagreement in others’ thought word and deed. If they are in my circle, as shrinking as the immediate, inner one can be, a lack of explanation of or accountability for this discord and disconnect, can be troubling. 

Ok that setup turned into an aside, but here’s what I was gonna write earlier.

The oft-used phrase, “I can’t wait,” is a funny one to me. Whether it’s a presumably positive experience which someone would be expected to anticipate (e.g., a birthday party, family reunion, etc.) or one signaling the end of a negative experience (to clock out of, or quit work, for instance), whatever the case may be, the point is, people, often can and do wait. They’ll check their obsessively waiting for proper time to celebrate whatever festive date/occasion they have circled on their calendar. 

This was on my mind, because my cousin, whom I have only come to know within the last year, planned a reunion for the week after thanksgiving. Cool, I thought, consider me there, was my reaction as soon as I heard the news. However, despite being recently introduced, she has proven herself to be my kinda cousin. Besides being incredibly empathetic, self-aware, loyal, and loving, she knows how to make shit happen. Instead of waiting twiddling her thumbs until the planned reunion, she came to visit this past week.

That said, it seems that acknowledging and embracing agency (the ability to make things happen - it’s a formal term in academic circles, one taught to me by my dear mentor from USC) seems to be a recurring subtext of many of the writings here to date. 

Stewie Griffin of Family Guy so poignantly reminded me of this gem: “the person who thinks he can and the person who thinks he can’t are both right.”

We’ve all heard the term, “product of such and such environment.” This can be problematic in relation to agency as it implies a certain passiveness. Why not make your environment a product of you?

Considering giving into self-pity and victimhood ? Well if so, you may be looking for some sympathy on your journey. Allow me to share Ras Kass’ ( my favorite rapper of all time) take on the subject: “If you’re looking for sympathy, look between ‘R’ and ‘T’ in the fucking dictionary.”  (from the Xzibit, song “3 Card Molly)

I have digressed per usual, however, but per usual there’s an explanation. It’s been a while since my last post, and time to write amongst my other activities has been slim. Hence there’s much to be said during this mindspill if you will. Anywho, another saying that can be funny, is “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

As someone who has become increasingly focused on and mindful of the present and also been exposed to any number of thought patterns labeled cognitively distorted by Western psychotherapy models, this saying leapt out at me for some reason as reeking of “fortune-telling.”

If you don’t know what a cognitive distortion is in general or what, “fortune-telling” is in particular in this context, fear not, your boy is here. 

If rhetoric/argument is your thing, a cognitive distortion can almost be thought of as a logical fallacy. Basically a flawed way of thinking. While this is certainly debatable, the particular distortion known as, “fortune-telling” says that you should not trouble yourself over future concerns, because you simply do not know, unless you are adept at fortune-telling (hence the name), what it holds. 

Get it? Hope so. So yea, “cross that bridge when we come to it.” While on some levels it suggests a mindfulness of the present and attentiveness to it, it also, in and of itself is inherently concerned with the future.

If you have not, “come to it,” how do you even know that , “it” is a bridge? How do you know it’s not a meadow, a house, an abyss, or seeming impasse? Furthermore even if it is a bridge, how do you know you’ll cross it?

Ok, this just crossed my mind, speaking of bridges. The phrase, “don’t burn bridges,” can be (and has been in my life) countered by this one, “Let the fire from bridges burned, light the way forth.”

Being Popular Versus Being Known... and So On

My mentor was talking to me the other day and he again brilliantly highlighted the difference between, “being popular and being known.” On the fleeting nature of popularity, he said something to the effect of, “no matter how entertaining they may be, every carnival leaves town at some point.” As has become typical, our conversation  was on my mind for some time and later had me think further: “There is a  difference between, “being popular, known, remembered, and historic.” Aside from being genuinely hilarious, he always give me food for thought, and you know the appetite crazy round these parts. Find a spark and catch a fire, whatever comparison suits you.

“Home is the place, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” Robert Frost (as told to me by my good friend David).

 I was out and about earlier and saw my friend David, whom I had the pleasure of getting to know well during my last stint at home. He was always extremely generous with his cigarettes (camel unfiltered, they will put some hair on your chest as they say) and company at a time when it felt as if the former were like my lifeline and the latter in short supply. 

When out of cigarettes, my once raging addiction had me regularly and routinely leaving the house for the sole purpose of finding tobacco to inhale in any fashion (cigarette, cigarillo, cigar, etc.) whether that meant bumming them from any and all strangers I’d see smoking or whom I merely sensed smoked (you develop a sixth sense when you become a member of any in-group it seems) or around whom I would simply smell wafts of the then delightful smelling second-hand smoke. If no one was actively and availably smoking, ashtrays, the locations of which within a walking radius of the house were mapped with military precision, my next bet for half-smoked cigarettes. No luck with the ashtrays? The ground was typically a good supplier, granted it hadn’t rained recently (yes, it was that bad, folks) of what essentially amounted to nicotine roaches (for those who have never smoked marijuana, a roach is what remains of a blunt/joint (a marijuana cigar/cigarette respectively), most of which has been smoked, or “put in the air,” in certain circles.  

(Last sidenote: Smoking is the only habit where once you finish, in a stomping fashion, you put your foot on or about your own butt (as they call the cigarette filter, the link to its anatomical counterpart and the history behind that is unknown to me at present—“intermanet”, here I come.) and then do it again. Similarly, drinking, out of a bottle presumably/hypothetically, is the only habit, where once you finish, the upturned bottle becomes the bearer of your biggest demon, not the liquid, but your reflection. And even if it’s smashed into pieces upon the end of the imbibing, it’s probably all the more indication that you may be as well.

As they say, “A stranger is just a friend whom you haven’t met yet,” and fortune found me in a position giving my habit of making quite a few friends out of former strangers, because of my penchant for puffing.

Besides being brilliant, for further background, David is an older gentlemen, 59 years of age it looks, and he works at the local library. During the course of our conversation, he expressed his unfulfilled desire to return to school and earn his degree, something he said could never happen because he refused to go into debt over education. 

After alluding to my educational debt, I let David know that my undergraduate and graduate pursuits at USC and Berkeley were funded through scholarships and fellowships respectively. David was quick to point out that as a minority I qualified for them, and as a white male he did not. I even more quickly responded, that as an older gentlemen, given the rampant ageism that abounds with other similar “–isms”, he might do well to inquire about monies granted to the returning student. He looked equally surprised and happy after I suggested some keywords for which to search. 

The conversation ended with me saying something I feel like have been sharing with a lot of people lately. Though it seems it’s a truism derived from the timeless adage (where there’s a will there’s a way,” I shared with David wisdom shared with me by a former mentor with whom I was lucky enough to recently reconnenct: “Desperate people make the worst decisions.”

If, “perception is indeed reality (of course saving the philosophical debate around that conditional for a later time)  then logically it follows that, you are only as desperate as you perceive yourself to be.

That said: Be aware that you have endless options any given time, you just have to see them. Where you do not see them, you must be resourceful enough to create them. Once realized, you must be confident enough to exercise them.”

He smiled gleefully, and take those are words that he would carry with him. I winked at him and said, I owed him for the Frost quote.

The Frost quote and following conversation with David were of particular interest to me that recently. For further qualification as to the nature of home as described by Frost, I'd add it's not a definite place as in, "the place" so much as it is "indefinite" (any place...take you in.") So much so in fact, that I had recently asked my dear and brilliant friend from high school, who also happens to be named Chris (who is also black, and though not formally diagnosed with any mental wellness issue, I could play arm chair psychologist and, with only a titular/nominal understanding of the condition, throw the oppositional defiant disorder label upon him – and that, amongst other reasons is, why he’ll forever be my brother from another :P), why being homeless was so bad. 

I had recently given the subject more thought than I had to prior, even in Berkeley, when spending at least a night in people’s park with the rest of the vagrant population (many whom I knew by name as they had lent their ear and advice during a trying time out there) presented itself as an enticing prospect to the horror of my treatment team. Umm, sidenote: they say a homeless person in NYC can average $100 a day. Shit, that’s enough to vacay for the winter (my first thoughts upon hearing that figure)!

Again, as with many stigmatized minority labels, such as black and bipolar, with homeless comes any number of negative stereotypes/preconceived notions whose validity may be questionable as fuck at best depending on circumstance. Would it be different if this population were labeled those who “spend the night outside voluntarily?” Oh no, then they would be just camping. Well how about, urban camping enthusiasts?”

Allow me to backtrack a moment for the sake of reference .I had also posed this same question to a lady in Starbucks with whom I was having a conversation this past week. Ironically enough, she was starting a non profit for the homeless, so she seemed like the perfect person to ask. Keep in mind she appeared to be around 33 years old, white, and was expecting a child in the coming months. As for the area in which I asked, it was my place of residence for the last 11 months, a quiet, relatively affluent, and definitely diverse suburb north of Atlanta (or technically it is Atlanta depending on who you ask) called Dunwoody. 

I asked the friendly young lady, who later told me her name was Wendy, “What is so bad about being homeless?” She was speechless. Apparently not expecting the query, let alone at Starbucks where everyone is interminably engaged with their technology and coffee (both of which are extremely overrated, in the estimation of many) to the extent that general conversation is jarring to say the least, and I'd boldly assume she also did not expect the question from the source (i.e., me).

She went to say in so many words that it would be scary not having a roof over your head. (again given my thoughts on the matter in the preceding paragraph, why not call this population fear-less as opposed to home-less if that is indeed the case). I prodded further, and pointed to the awning that surrounded the plaza of stores including Starbucks, as if to say, “how is that for a roof?” (again, for the sake of framing, the homelessness I hypothetically proposed was in that very place at that time, given those very conditions such with those clothes on her back). I further inquired about any concerns about the weather. Despite the passing flash storm on occasion, the general heat and humidity of the Atlanta area, make it a free shower at worst, as was so astutely pointed out to me by my friend Chris. As for concerns about the dark, I suggested going to Kroger (my former place of employment, a 24 hour supermarket, only a few stores down from Starbucks) if it was light she so desired (not to mention shelter, even better than the one provided by the awning mentioned earlier. Furthermore, food is in no short supply in the grocery store, especially in the 80,000 square foot megaplex that particular Kroger became. No money? No problem. Free samples abound in produce :)

It's not what you are called, but what you answer to that matters...

We all know hypochondriacs are those who internalize the belief that they are always sick. In many cases they feel and act upon this feeling. Well they have done studies of people who, let’s say show up at the office on Monday morning, feeling physically well and healthy by any and every measure that science has to offer.

As part of an experiment, people throughout the day told that person he or she was exhibiting signs of physical illness, despite being perfectly well upon arriving at the office that person was indeed rendered physically ill by the same physiological measures that had deemed him in perfect health at the day’s outset. After enough continued interrogation and subjection they had essentially rendered a false confession by leading the witness if you want to think about it in legalistic terms.

I’m not sure if there’s a word for people who externalize hypochondria upon others (i.e. telling them that they are sick), but if there is such a condition, it feels like I have experience with it. For instance, I just quit a job, that despite having emotional ties to co-workers, left me feeling torn at best as it was not consistent with my abilities or interests. As a result, I was only able to give a company and the people within it, to whom I owed much, 50% mental effort at any given time (at best). Also, the pursuit of my goals in my personal life that are tailored around my abilities in interest suffered because I was invested time and mental energy at work. This is a textbook case of cognitive dissonance.  So in anticipation of  leaving a job that was causing me significant ambivalence to fully pursue my own ambitions more efficiently and steadfastly than ever before, one would think, and correct me if you disagree, a reasonable degree of heightened happiness is expected.

Again, as expressed my issue, lies with people who don’t understand, and rather than make efforts to do fully inform themselves and engage the diagnosed in an effort to do so, attempt to instruct and impose their understanding.

In keeping with this line of thinking, a dear friend of mine recently had for the second or third time informed me that my email account had been hacked and was sending out spam. This was unknown to me up to this point. The first time I took a simple to fix it. I changed my password as I understood was a basic solution. A few months later I received a similar notification from the same friend, ensuring me that I had a virus. This time I went to the trouble of downloading, installing, and running a free virus scan software program which found 0 viruses. To ensure that he received 0 further spam, I removed him from my address book, and again changed my password. Eventually, I went on to delete my email address (though it can be reactivated), for many reasons, but this frustration, though not the primary one, was among them. I hope this demonstrates plainly and objectively how external perception can shape our self-concept and eventually our behaviors.

Having time to frame it in retrospect against this particular backdrop is helpful. My friend, who had nothing but the best of intentions I’m sure, could have made effort on his end to suggest virus software or other technical measures to protect himself or taken measures to ensure his spam filters were working properly (and perhaps he, did but for the sake of argument let’s say he didn’t). In a nutshell a problem that could have been shared was made mine to deal with. In a communications class at USC  we learned of the fundamental attribution error (FAE) where people general externalize any problem elsewhere; essentially we are quick to blame and slow to accept it. It’s always someone else’s problem, shortcoming, flaw, etc. You want to solve conflict, assume the blame. 100% of it for perspective sake. Imagine it was all your fault, even if every reliable objective and subjective marker says otherwise. For the sake of rhetorical fluidity, for argument, etc. Imagine you are at fault. Einstein said imagination is more important than intelligence. So get to daydreaming, people.

The FAE is pretty much the law of the land if you will, but sometimes the law of averages kicks in and when it does, it’s fucking sweet. In a recent conversation with my new favorite cousin, I was frustrated and my speech wss understandably pressured as a result. I was frustrated because I had just had a great weekend after finally leaving my job that was causing me to feel ambivalent, then spent the following day (Sunday) with my cell phone off and no internet access, not a care in the world, and it felt like the first day of the rest of my life in a lot of ways and for a lot of reasons, none of which matter right now.  I was happy, but in the days before, and the day after, people who don’t understand this (among other things) showed potential to restrict or inhibit this happiness, not intentionally, but did so none the less through a constant barrage of questioning. In any case, in keeping with my self-awareness that has been honed over the years, I understand when I am the least bit agitated, so I am not surprised at this point when people tell me that I am talking fast.

However my cousin did something that struck me as extraordinarily special, reflected an extremely high, EQ, and was proof of her exceptional self-awareness/acceptance that amazed me. Instead of first telling me that I was talking fast (which again I would have admitted and of which I was aware), she admitted to me and let me know that she “was not a very good verbal processor” and then asked something of me. That I slow down to accommodate her listening style.

Wooooooooow. I was almost floored. I went on to thank her profusely. Her listening style combined with my admittedly pressured speech made communication and understanding very difficult. Miscommunication and misunderstanding are the pillars of any conflict in my estimation, so the fact that she was able to admit to her role in the misunderstanding, assume some of the issue, and meet me half way so to speak in the interest of mutual understanding (she went on to describe her feelings before becoming symptomatic with a physical illness she had).

My cousin is a black woman. As such, she has been forced to deal with the dual burdens of racism and sexism, and unbelievable task suited only for the most unbelievable of women. To the extent that they should, perhaps better than most, understand minority-hood and the labeling, stigmatization, finger-pointing, pathologizing, and problematizing (all the hear in the media is that, “your hair is too nappy, too natural, too pressured, your lips are too big, your skin is too dark, you’re too fat, you have too much attitude etc.) of it, I used to hope for a certain kinship as I am similarly afflicted with my own dual burden’s (racial and mental labels), but that does not always happen. When it does, it is amazing to find an ally who gets it, and when you’re dealing with other people’s ignorance as a full-time job, you form alliances, bonds, friendships, and loves wherever you are lucky enough to find them.

Unless my talking fast presents a problem for someone else, then I can and will talk as fast as reasonable (I understand this to be a loaded term) comprehension and intelligibility will allow. There have been times at the height of mania that my ramblings were a mess of unintelligible, gibberish. (it should be noted that my dear friend, whom I call, twin for a shared bday, has been told he can speak in tongues). Perhaps the next time I see someone who is extremely manic being asked if they have taken their meds, I’ll intervene casually, and ask the interrogator/accuser, “have you taken your meds that will allow you to correct your obvious hearing deficiencies?”

Label Whoring 101

I used to have serious issues with the stigmas behind and relate to both labels, black and bipolar. I’m not into psycho linguistics or pretend to know anything much about the field (though I could refer you to the brilliance of fellow-Trojan and Cal Ph.D. Dr. Nathaniel Dumas) but I do understand how subconscious, underlying definitions and associations between words and their meanings may affect us, cognitively and behaviorally as well as collectively and individually.

In high school, we read a piece called, "A Short Play on Black and White Words" by Robert B. Moore, that gets to the heart of the matter in a very creative, very understandable, and very illuminating way. After each use of the word, “black” its or commonly  understood meaning (better known as a connotation) is in parentheses. Here it is pasted below for your ease of reference:
                                          
Some may blackly (angrily) accuse me of trying to blacken (defame) the English language, to give it a black eye (a mark of shame) by writing such black words (hostile). They may denigrate (to cast aspersions; to darken) me by accusing me of being blackhearted (malevolent), of having a black outlook (pessimistic, dismal) on life, of being a blackguard (scoundrel) - which would certainly be a black mark (detrimental fact) against me. Some may black-brow (scowl at) me and hope that a black cat crosses in front of me because of this black deed. I may become a black sheep (one who causes shame or embarrassment because of deviation from the accepted standards), who will be blackballed (ostracized) by being placed on a blacklist (list of undesirables) in an attempt to blackmail (to force or coerce into a particular action) me to retract my words. But attempts to blackjack (to compel by threat) me will have a Chinaman's chance of success, for I am not a yellow-bellied Indian-giver of words, who will whitewash (cover up or gloss over vices or crimes) a black lie (harmful, inexcusable). I challenge the purity and innocence (white) of the English language. I don't see things in black and white (entirely bad or entirely good) terms, for I am a white man (marked by upright firmness) if there ever was one. However, it would be a black day when I would not "call a spade a spade", even though some will suggest a white man calling the English language racist is like the pot calling the kettle black. While many may be niggardly (grudging, scanty) in their support, others will be honest and decent-and to them I say, that's very white of you (honest, decent).

The preceding is of course a white lie (not intended to cause harm), meant only to illustrate some examples of racist terminology in the English language."

_______

Needless to say the value neutrality of the word black in all of its different forms is questionable at best. At worst, however, the word black, is without question, linked to any number negative thoughts, feelings, and action, so off the bat there is a bias, whether recognized by the person using the word, and the person it is being used to describe. The speaker may unknowingly internalize an air of superiority or arrogance as they point to, highlight, or identify someone or something linked so clearly to negativity. On the other hand, if you are continuously being addressed as such, it may be easy to adopt or internalize certain ways of viewing yourself that aren’t in the best interest of your psychological health. There are any are number of measures to resist this internalization, but it is important to first and foremost realize how easily and unknowingly this two way street can turn into a dangerous head on crash between oppressor and oppressed (For those more scientifically inclined and for perspective’s sake, black, as I understand is in fact the combination of all colors, and white the absence of them.)

Again for the sake of others identifying with and understanding these labels, I have come to a point where I am no longer bitter being seen in such a stigmatized light. Instead of resisting and becoming upset, I have come to understand and embrace these labels, however problematic and at times hopelessly reductive they may seem, so that others who may find themselves similarly diagnosed (or if they are affected by those who are) can themselves have some peace of mind.

Let’s take it back to the basics for a moment. Bipolar, short for bipolar disorder, formerly known as manic-depression, carries with it a number of stereotypes, but for the most part the “disorder” ( I will explain the quotes very shortly) and those affected by it are in my brief experience with it, more shrouded in mystery that even the most oppressed and obscured racial minorities.

In terms of understanding the condition, its former name is a good starting point. The motives behind changes in terminology can be fascinating especially if etymology/lexical evolution (e.g., word history) happens to be your thing, but regardless of the name, the condition it describes remains the same.

It is understood medically as a mood disorder, and however it may be termed, there are extremes in mood ranging from the depths of sadness (similar to those who are diagnosed as having one-sided depression) to an euphoric, extreme high, known as mania. When a person is experiencing mania they are said to be having a manic episode. Whichever term is being used you can picture those pegged with the condition as having moods that operate along a spectrum from low (depressed) to high (manic).

Aristotle, the famous Greek philosopher said that, “It is the mark of an educated mind to entertain an idea without accepting it.” Insofar as we all seek to be educated, it can help to look at things from both sides. Instead of pointing the finger, and labeling someone whose mind may work differently as suffering from a “disorder,” “crazy (again for a wonderful defense against this troubling term, please see the recent youtube post featuring Dave Chappelle),” or an “illness,” all of which carry with them their own layered complexities (for an academic perspective on  the matter, Michel Foucault’s classic text Madness and Civilization is recommended as a wonderful starting point), just entertain the thought, just briefly, that equal or greater fault may lie with the one pointing the finger (again as yet another old adage goes, “As soon as you point a finger at somebody, you have four pointing back at yourself).

Instead of saying someone has a mood disorder, could it be that they may have an expansive and intensive emotional range, which may, under certain circumstances, manifest itself via unpredictable behavior and speech, which may be unintelligible to the listener depending on their ability to understand it. Or as 50 cent said at the end of one of his videos, “I talk fast, so listen faster, so I ain’t gotta slow down for you to catch up.” In terms of this debate, would it be odd for someone who has been labeled as mentally ill, recommend a medication to their doctor so that they might be able to understand them? To date I have a had four distinct manic waves, fall of 2005, summer of 2007, fall of 2009, and spring 2010. Each wave consisted of episodes that would peak and subside resulting in hospitalizations, the last of which in 2010 saw me admit myself to the hospital (details of which to come later, but my former therapist the self-admission reflected the evolving knowledge and meta-awareness of my condition). The first episode however, way back when, will always be memorable to me for the reaction of my dear friend who rode it the whole thing out with me. Instead of pointing the finger, becoming troubled, concerned, or alerting others we got into some adventure, some of which is foggy at this point (but could always be cleared by asking him about it) about which he would tell me later: “There’s wasn’t anything wrong with you were saying to me or doing. You just needed a loved one to be there and listen.” In addition to speaking to his keen perceptive faculties, it speaks more so to him being an incredible friend. All of that is to say, if time was taken to listen instead of label, the weight of some of these stereotypes and stigmas would decrease dramatically.

You can just as easily broaden the discussion for other disorders as well. For those labeled as having ADD (attention deficit disorder) or ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder), which is especially recognized in classroom settings where attention spans are expected and tested, they are often given a medication like ritalin or adderal to help them focus. 

Again for the sake of entertaining a thought, let’s hyppthetically just say little Terry, just diagnosed with AD(H)D,  sitting in the back of class, who may be considered a prodigy by several other measures, has a mind that works in such a brilliant fashion and at such a processing speed, that it is far more conducive for his learning, to be engaged conversation than by reading. As a result of poor judgment and diagnosis, Terry, and all of his under-stimulated innate intelligence, begins to withdraw, question his ability, which affects his self-esteem for which he is put on a depression medication that in combination with the initial dosage of Ritalin/Adderall (They are in fact amphetamines - In layman’s term’s, as I understand them, this means they share a similar molecular structure to cocaine), is taking its toll and affecting his sleep. Consequently, by the time he comes to class in the morning, he is exhausted from staying up for hours longer than he should have, and can hardly pay attention, thus worsening the issue he was originally labeled as having. The labels, and the meanings they carry, can very easily feed on themselves, and make matters far worse than they would have been otherwise

As someone who has been labeled as having bipolar disorder, my thinking and its clarity has often been questioned. Needless to say, the “history of mental illness” phrase can cast a long shadow. “Are you feeling, ok?” “Why are you talking so fast?” or from a clinical perspective, when committed there is a line of questions that doctors and nurses alike are required to ask of patients daily: “Are you hearing voices?” “Do you have thoughts of hurting yourself of anyone else?” There is one more that escapes me as of the moment, but let’s backtrack to the questions from acquaintances first.

First of all, it can be, depending on who is asking and their tone when doing so, offensively and arrogantly intrusive, to question another person’s manner of thinking. In response to this predictable line of inquiry, I have, when entertaining them in the past, “responded, by saying, “yes, are you feeling.thinking ok?” This Socratic mirroring, proves especially useful in exposing flaws in their logic. Though I choose not even to entertain these debates with certain types anymore because of their antagonistic approach, (which may be rooted in their own insecurity, misery, or jealously), genuine attempts to understand, though rare, are always acknowledged and appreciated.

My cousin, with whom I’ve just recently had the pleasure of getting to know, asked me a question earlier which made me so happy. Instead of questioning from an external perspective, she wanted to know, and actually had the heart to ask, “how does it feel when you are beginning to have a manic episode?” With glee I went out to first of all explain how delighted I was that she had the emotional insight and empathy to begin with that question, then followed by actually answering it.

Long story short, after having episodes resulting in several hospitalizations from 2005 to 2010, I during that period, learned to manage my mood and understand my emotions. This investment in my stability entailed group and intensive individual therapy (at my peak my therapist was seeing me twice a week in Berkeley) on and off for seven years, structured outpatient programs at McLean Hospital, a renowned psychiatric institution in Belmont, Massachusetts, not far from where I grew up, endless combination of cocktails of different medications used to treat bipolar disorder specifically (they two classes are traditionally categorized as mood-stabilizers and anti-psychotics), chemical/alcohol dependence (nicotine- I was a pack-per-day smoker for five + years, casual alcohol marijuana use for a good part of those years). I can happily and honestly say at this point I know what works for me (a detailing of my wellness regimen to come).

And lastly before I leave this one alone, for the sake of comparison, perhaps because they are going on right now, let’s use the Olympics for comparison. Olympic-caliber athletes have bodies that most likely through good genes and great training that respond in record-setting ways under extreme pressure. Would a trainer or coach, ever question the functioning of world-class sprinter Usain Bolt’s muscle fibers because he appeared to run even faster than usual?

Imagine the absurdity of this question:

Coach: Hey Usain, you just broke the world-record by running a 9.5 flat in the 100 meters. Are your fast-twitch muscle fibers acting up or something?”

Usain Bolt: “Sorry, coach, I’ll run try not to run so fast next time…”

The inverse could just as easily be analyzed with those who partake in the special Olympics. Though his delivery was particularly crude, comedian Ralphie May, noted that in his experience it was rare to see someone who has been labeled as mentally retarded, be anything less than happy. If this is in fact true, perhaps we could all learn something from our friends at the Special Olympics on how to achieve and sustain life happiness instead of pitying them as can be easily done.

Finally (seriously this time), though dogs are called man’s best friend and seem to generally be held in high esteem, there is almost always an explicit owner-owned/master-pet relationship that makes you think, “well that’s certainly no way to treat a best friend!” asking who is dependent upon whom in the relationship, when, and in what circumstance, can be helpful. Fido, may just be a mangy mut Monday through Saturday, but when little Susie goes missing on Sunday, see how quick his intelligence and sense of smell, (estimated to be  thousands of times stronger than our own in certain breeds) is applauded. Or in similarly extreme circumstance, that bomb sniffing dog on the battlefield, yes, the one with Kevlar coated teeth that single-handedly subdued the enemy while the troops where sound asleep, is showered with praise abroad, but at home, while being walked down the street on a leash can be perceived a certain way that is inconsistent with what he brings to the proverbial table.

PS - This helps recall a favorite song lyric: "You label me, I label you."  as belted out by James Hetfield of Metallica in the song "Unforgiven."

Chappellian brilliance at its finest (non-comedic)

At his finest, DC goes in (after about 38 seconds in especially)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56qUENYYjxE



(tried to embed, will figure it out later...)

Meeeessssaaaaggge

Update: August 1^st, 2012. Though yesterday I suspended the unsolicited and active social media promotion (e.g., status updates and tweets) of original written content in consideration of the sanctity of personal cyber space, I have resumed publishing without fanfare to ensure ease of access to anyone who may be interested. I will continue to post without concern for so-called, “ownership” of any or all intellectual property rights as these thoughts do not expire, are in overabundance, and are, in fact, the by-product of many a collaborative, constructive, and inherently codependent debate.

I will continue to write as frequently as the inspiration and opportunity present themselves. 

* Please note the following changes to blackandbipolar.blogspot.com

* Please note: As of July 31st, 2012, I have suspended the self-publishing and promotion of original written content (in consideration of violating personal cyber space with unsolicited postings and over concern for intellectual property rights). However, I will continue to create similar writings on my own as frequently as the opportunity to do so presents itself.

For access to these works simply contact blackandbipolar@blackandbipolar.com without concern for compensation. Also, should you require anything written or otherwise, that you may think is even tangentially aligned with the intent of and identities explored in the blog or my life mission (as outlined in a blog post below of the same name) that you may need for your own personal use and/or reasons, again simply contact blackandbipolar@blackandbipolar.com without concern for compensation.

Be well, my friends.