Alphabet Soup for Your eSoul

A friend recently posted a question about "confessional" writers and why they do it. Well, here's the extended version of my response to that.

I am honest about a lot of personal things. For example, I think that, as a culture, we are far too self-conscious about sex. We hypocritically use sex to sell everything from cookies to washing machines, yet we have great difficulty talking about real, actual sex issues. Because of that, I'm very open when questions come up about my own sex life.

I am an unabashed feminist. I am not afraid to talk about race issues. And don't get me started on gay and transgender rights. I also like to play Devil's advocate. I am opinionated and fairly transparent in a number of ways.

Having said all that, there are parts of my life I'd rather not share with people. I don't want people to know that I have a problem with alcohol, or that I am technically homeless at the moment, or that I suffer from depression and an often debilitating low sense of self-worth. I don't want my life exposed like some Facebook version of a basic cable reality freak show. Hell, I'm going to my high school reunion in a month. Do you really think that I want that information floating around the hotel ballroom like the Fog, enveloping these people I haven't seen or spoken to in 20 years?

So why do I share these things? Because I am going through a rough journey right now. However, I am learning some great lessons along the way. And these aren't lessons that apply solely to substance abuse or mental and emotional health issues. If you get a deeper understanding of what "people like me" go through, that's great. But that's not my goal.

My goal -- my desire -- is that you can extrapolate the lessons I've learned from my struggles and apply them to your own life. You might hate your job and wonder how you've ended up where you are in life. You may be in a bad marriage. You might be afraid that you're a terrible parent. You may even have simply had a bad day because that cashier at the supermarket was kind of a dick to you. Or, like me, you may innately believe that you're worthless.

But you can look back and integrate some of the same lessons I'm learning to integrate.

I'm not baring myself so that you can pity me or tell me how strong I am. Although I appreciate knowing that I have a strong support network of people who actually care about me, I am extremely uncomfortable with that sort of attention -- any attention, really. I'm not trying to become famous. I don't get off on people knowing intimate details of my life. And even though I may write about it, I certainly don't want to discuss it. Honestly, I agonize over what I will or will not share because most of my experiences I wouldn't even discuss in detail with some of my closest friends and family.

I'll be honest; I do experience a certain amount of catharsis (there's that word again). Blogging is a sort of extension of my journaling. But, no, I don't do it for me. I do it for you.

Do you feel a little bit better about that shitty job that's so far from what you imagined when you tossed your mortarboard into the air that warm summer day? Do you feel that maybe you can address the chinks in your marriage so that you can either save it or have the clarity to see that it needs to end? Do you have the confidence in yourself to know that it's okay to make a mistake with your kids, but that, ultimately, you're doing the right thing? Do you know that when someone's an asshole to you, it usually has nothing to do with you, really? Do you know that you have value?

That's what this is truly about: you.

All I've ever wanted to do in my life is help people, and this is one small way of doing that. And if I'm not reaching you in that way, then I'll just pack it in and go back to talking about the latest recipe I've tried out or how pissed I am that ABC cancelled my favorite program. Because if I'm not helping people, then there is no point.

And, no, I don't fancy myself to be some self-help, lifestyle guru. I'm not Dr. Phil or Deepak Chopra or whoever the fuck is en vogue these days. I'm not ladling chicken soup down the gullet of your soul. I don't profess to have all the answers, or even most of them. I'm just a guy. A guy who gives a shit about other people. A guy who has experienced hurt and is still hurting, but who is learning ways to cope with that hurt and wants to pass those coping skills on to others. I'm learning along the way and making some mistakes, but maybe by sharing my walk -- and my stumbles -- something will resonate within you about your own path.

So, there. That's why I do this. Any other questions?

Riding the Subway with Baggage

I had a relapse a few weeks ago. After four months of sobriety, I allowed myself to go on an extended bender. Ultimately, it ruined my plans for my return to New York. No, I still moved. But the friend that I was supposed to stay with was, understandably, infuriated by my condition and wouldn’t allow me to stay with him. I then spent the next two days aimlessly riding the subway. That’s it, just up and down the various lines. Lugging my weighty messenger bag and huge suitcase. I then managed to hit up a few bars in the Village, just for good measure. At some point during all of this, my mother even filed a missing person report.

I wound up having one of my withdrawal seizures (in Port Authority of all places) and ended up in the hospital. On suicide watch, no less. Yup. I had a nurse’s aide sitting by my bed 24 hours a day.

During that period, I started to panic about where I was going to stay once I was finally discharged. So, I contacted a few people I felt comfortable asking, to see if I could stay with them for “a couple of days” until I could figure out my next steps. I already had an apartment lined up, but I wouldn’t be able to move in until September. I just needed a place to regroup. Unfortunately, no one was able to accommodate me. So, I now find myself in a shelter in Brooklyn until I can move into the aforementioned apartment.

This is not meant to be a confession. This is not meant to garner sympathy. So, please, I’d prefer not to receive any messages regarding any of it. I’m telling you all of this merely as background for the larger issue I’d like to discuss. So bear with me.

Recently, another friend of mine, someone I see as sort of an older sister, remarked that I’m “resilient and resourceful”. My response was, basically, that I wouldn’t have to be resilient and resourceful if I didn’t keep fucking up. I wasn’t trying to lash out at her. No, I was angry at myself in the moment.

The miracle, if you can call it that, is that I’m no longer angry at myself. I messed up. There were consequences, but there’s also a future.

I think I finally understand what serenity is. Life can be completely messed up, or even just be mildly challenging. I don’t know. It varies. Because it’s fucking life, and that’s just what it does: It varies. And you just have to roll with it.

But here’s my real revelation: prayer. I know I’ve discussed prayer before. A number of times, in fact. Praying regularly, not just in the bad times. Connecting to the divine, whatever that may mean for you. Strengthening yourself for whatever may come. And I stand by all of that.

But that’s not what hit me this morning.

I’ve mentioned before that I meditate. That’s my way of connecting. I also journal, which I consider part of my meditation. But I realized that my journaling is prayer.

Because what is prayer, essentially? Yes, it’s connecting to the divine. But it’s mainly catharsis.

When you pray – however you choose to do so – you’re sending out your hopes, your fears, your anxieties, your joy, your sadness, your mourning, your celebration… And, as I said in my other post on prayer, if you’re doing it right, you come away feeling, if not unburdened, then less burden. You come away with more of a sense of peace. Of, well, serenity.

Folks, that’s catharsis.

If you’ve been paying attention, you know that I’m an avowed atheist (agnostic, whatever). I don’t believe in any supreme being. I do believe in a connection to the universe, but not because there’s someone out there sewing it all together. So why do I insist on using the religious term “prayer”? Maybe because it’s a useful common term. Maybe because that’s what I grew up with, so it’s the only terminology I know to use. Nevertheless, I think that prayer (or whatever you want to call it) is powerful. Christians say that “prayer changes things”. As non-Christian as I may be, I completely agree.

All the junk that I described earlier, I brought that on myself. Life didn’t do that to me; I did that to me. But, because I’ve “prayed,” I feel at peace with where I am right now and am able to harness some optimism for my future. The plans that I had before coming to New York are still possible. This is just a bump, a wrinkle. There’s way more life yet to come. Some of it’s going to suck, and some of it’s going to be amazing. Some of it will be just plain mundane. But it will go on.

Hopefully, whatever life throws at you – or you bring on yourself – you can pray your way out of it. And what is prayer for you? How do you achieve that catharsis? Through exercise? Cooking? Pottery? Poetry? Gardening?

Whatever it is that brings you that release, it's prayer. And you need to embrace it. Let it heal you. Let it bring you peace. Let it guide you through this murky thing we’ve been handed that we never asked for but have to navigate nonetheless. Let it give you meaning in the meaninglessness.

Otherwise, you wind up just riding the subway from end to end, saddled with heavy baggage. 

Breaking the Rules of Etiquette

We've all heard that golden rule of etiquette: "Never discuss religion or politics in polite company." Well, I think we've broken past the point of politeness, so strap in, children!

Religion has been all over the news and social media, due to the recent terrorist attacks around the world. I’ve read loads of anti-Muslim rhetoric from supposed Christians, including some who want to be our president. On the opposite end of the faith spectrum, I’ve seen tons of anti-religious speech from atheists, as well.

Bottom line: It’s all unacceptable, as far as I’m concerned.

Let me be clear, I’m agnostic. I choose that term because, although I don’t believe in a conscious god who controls the universe, I’m also not arrogant enough to believe that I absolutely know how this universe came to be and continues to exist. As I read and talk to others and learn, my perspective evolves. Personally, I think every religion has it wrong. There may be some elements of truth there, but nothing man-made is ever going to fully grasp something infinite.

However, I don’t believe in denigrating any particular religious institution or those who adhere to it. One of the purposes that organized religion serves is to help people formulate a perspective that will guide them through this confusing journey of life. My belief system is unorthodox and has some holes, but, so far, it’s served me well. Why should I deny that to someone else?

Yes, people do unconscionable things in the name of religion, but, in my opinion, that’s not a fault of religion. That’s a fault in the person. Furthermore, it’s a fault in our human psyche that still embraces tribalism to the degree that we are willing to go to war because others are outside of the tribe.

That’s the real trouble. It’s not differing beliefs (or skin colors, or sexual orientations, or geographic placements) that pit us against each other, but the impulse to demonize those who lie outside our self-identification. That’s tribalism in a nutshell. It’s a human instinct that has, in many ways, outlived its usefulness.

You know, I’ve always said that the only way we could ever truly achieve world peace is if we were to discover life on another planet. Then, we could band together to demonize them instead of each other.

We have to remember that, in the end, we are all connected to one another. And I don’t think that’s a simplistic or naïve point of view. It’s essential to who we are as citizens of this planet and creations of the divine.

Brush-a, Brush-a, Brush-a

More than likely, you brush your teeth every day. I mean, I don't want to assume. However, do you brush your teeth correctly? The ADA recommends brushing at least twice a day, for at least two minutes per session. Along with flossing, this promotes good oral health. And good oral health has been shown to be linked to overall health, particularly cardiovascular health. It’s not just an indicator of cardiovascular health, but integral to it. Are you brushing just so that your breath doesn’t smell, or do you want healthy teeth and gums – and a healthy heart?

Now, think about prayer and/or meditation (whatever that means for you; see my 10/3/15 and 10/20/15 posts for my own views). Do you pray? How often? For how long? What do you pray about?

Do you see where I’m going here? Some people see prayer as something they do in desperate times. Some people aren’t quite sure how to pray. Some people just sort of pray by rote, with no real connection to the divine.

I’ve learned that when I don’t regularly pray and meditate (and journaling is part of meditation for me), things fall apart. Just like if I don’t brush my teeth regularly – or, correctly – my gums suffer.

So that begs the question: Is there a right way to pray? I don’t feel comfortable saying that there is an absolutely right way. How about we say that prayer ought to be effective? The important thing is to make that connection with God. If I’ve meditated for 15 minutes, and I don’t feel anything, then I know that I’ve done something wrong – or haven’t done something right, as the case may be. When I journal, I have to walk away with a sense of calm or a sense of purpose, not feeling just as agitated or confused as I did going in.

I think what’s also important is that I don’t do these things just when I’m hacked off about something or I’m feeling worried or I want something to happen. I have to be in the practice so that when I need a revelation, then I’m not just fumbling around. You don’t start brushing when your gums start bleeding, although it can help; you brush to prevent the bleeding. You don’t start praying to get out of a desperate situation; you keep praying so that you’re not desperate in difficult situations.

So, there’s the question before you: How does prayer figure into your life, and how do you engage in it? Have at it, kids. Discuss.

Postscript: Of course, this is what I think of whenever I start to brush my teeth: 

Little Foxes

“Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.” Song of Solomon 2:15 (NIV)

 

In any therapeutic environment, you’re bound to run into numerous clichés and pithy quotes to help “inspire” you. At the ministry I just left, one of the pastor’s favorite one-liners was “It’s the little foxes that spoil the vine,” meaning that it’s the small habits which one might think are harmless that ultimately degrade one’s relationship with God.

We all have things we do which we think are harmless. That little white lie. Stealing office supplies. That snarky comment you were sure no one really caught. These things can often lead to bigger issues. And I don’t mean that taking Post-Its from work means that you’ll eventually knock over a liquor store. (Why is it always a liquor store, by the way? I digress.) No, these little things sometimes open the door to excusing deeper, more dangerous behaviors.

I regularly examine the things in my life which might be potential blocks in my connection with the divine. For example, Facebook. Relax, I’m just talking about myself. And, yes, I’m fully aware that I’m discussing how I sometimes get caught up in the internet… on the internet. I have to be very conscious about how I use Facebook because there was a time when I’d post specifically so people could tell me how witty or insightful I was. I needed that validation to form my self-esteem. Because my self-worth is something that I’ve been working on, I am now careful about how much I post and how often I check, as well as what I’m expecting when I check. It sounds like a small thing, but, for me, it’s huge.

Which is exactly the point here.

So, try it out. What are your “little foxes” that you think could be holding you back from being all that the universe has for you to be? And, then, what can you do about them?

Postscript: Okay, have you ever read Song of Solomon? It’s really just one long – and somewhat explicit – love poem. It’s the ultimate period romance. Read it if you ever get tired of buxom maidens and roguish pirates. Most Christian theologians, however, see it as a metaphor for the relationship between Christ and the Church.

 

My Will and My Life

Step Three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood God 

In my last post, I introduced my concept of God as the Universal Body. I hope that it stuck with you because I’m going to refer to "God" and the "Body" a lot moving forward.

At any rate, when I look at God and my relationship to God, I can finally move past the intellectual quandary of trying to parse out how an unconscious being can have a will. Every being, conscious or not, has a will to live. Since I am part of a larger being, my welfare contributes to the welfare of that being, just as the welfare of the cells of my body contribute to my overall welfare.

I believe that God’s will is for us to delight in and to honor ourselves and each other.

When I talk about turning over my will and my life, I am saying that I recognize that my will and my life are not entirely my own. Every decision and action has an effect on the Body. This is not a new revelation for me, and it’s certainly not an original insight, but it is one I must remind myself of daily because it’s a difficult revelation to actually act out of.

So, with everything I do, I have to say to myself, “Peter, is this solely for you? Is this going to benefit the Body? What are your motives here?” Often, I forget and just react. But, as I grow spiritually, I am increasingly able to stop myself and evaluate what I’m doing and why.

Over the past several months, I’ve battled with myself, worrying that I was being selfish in some of my decisions. The most recent decision to leave the program I was in is a prime example. I do believe that sometimes we act selfishly and to the detriment of others. However, there are some actions that seem selfish, but are really about self-preservation. And it is imperative that we take care of ourselves first because self-survival ultimately contributes to the health of the Body.

I composed the following prayer for myself. It reminds me that, although I am driven by the greater will of God, it’s not because I’m an insignificant pawn. Quite the opposite. It’s because I am valuable.
 

I am new. I am growing.

I am special. I have value.

I am ready to take on life.

I am not a passive victim; I’m an active participant.

I create life. I affect other people.

I have an impact on the universe.

Turning over my will and my life isn’t about deleting myself and my perspective. No, it’s about embracing my role in the universe and wholeheartedly doing my part, no matter how seemingly small, to keep it all spinning.

 

Every Good Work

I’m eager to continue discussing the steps, but first, I’d like to share something about myself which may enlighten you on how I’ve gotten to the place in which I find myself. By that, I do mean going through Recovery, but I also mean my current faith journey.

One of our weekly outings is to Celebrate Recovery, an overtly Christian off-shoot of AA/NA. Each week, in the smaller discussion groups, we are asked to state what we struggle with. A common response is “alcohol” or “meth” or “cocaine”. I state, honestly, that the substance I have a problem with is alcohol, but that my real struggle has been with my sense of self-worth.

I don’t really know where my low self-esteem came from. I’ve always had support: from my parents, from teachers, from friends. As an adult, my employers have always loved me, and I’ve advanced quickly in every organization I’ve been a part of.

But there’s always been that sense that nothing was good enough.

Now, I’ve always felt like an other. I’m left-handed, a fact of which I am almost disturbingly proud. I’m usually one of only a few black people in a room. Sometimes, I’m the only one. I was deemed “talented and gifted,” which set me apart, as well. And, I was the only out gay student in my high school. (Though, in all fairness, I had an incredibly easy time of it, with relatively few bumps in the road.)

Suffice it to say, I’m unique. And perhaps that fact was a painful one for me, even while I tried to celebrate my uniqueness. In my mind, being unique didn’t mean that I was special; it meant that there was something off. Have you ever completed an assignment or project in less time than the time allotted and were convinced that that meant you’d done the whole thing wrong? That’s how I feel almost every day of my life.

That feeling of wrongness has been the motivation for a lot of bad, as well as for a lot of good. In trying to set right what was wrong in me, I very quickly grew into a perfectionist. A deeper understanding of perfectionism reveals that, when given a project, the perfectionist will either work diligently to exceed standards, or he will simply not perform at all, for fear of not being able to achieve excellence. Anyone who knows me will recognize the accuracy of that description.

Furthermore, because I feel inadequate, I constantly seek the approval of others. This drive has manifested as a deep desire to help people, good manners and etiquette, excellent grades, a superior education, and (what started as) a promising career in arts and entertainment. The downside has presented itself in unhealthy relationships (both romantic and platonic), increasing alcohol abuse, and half-hearted suicide attempts, the last of these usually being subconscious attempts to overdose on alcohol. Many times, I hoped that I’d just pass out and never wake up.

Today, however, in my spiritual journey, I am accepting the value that I have in this universe -- which keeps me pressing towards the constructive and moving away from the destructive. I was inspired by Psalm 34:12: “Who is the man who delights in life, loving a long life to enjoy what is good?” The psalm goes on to talk about righteousness, but I was stuck on “what is good”. I understand “what is good” to mean “what is good in God,” the works which God has done. The first thing I always think of is the wonder of nature. Yet, am I not part of nature? Am I not one of God’s good works? Aren’t we all?

We don’t honor God’s work by destroying it. Not only was I killing myself with alcohol, but I was killing myself with my words and my thoughts. Both were dishonoring God and God’s work. Now, I press to reach the potential that is within me. This is where I find myself now, and how I begin to explore turning over my will to a higher power.

The Art of Restoration

"The body is a community made up of its innumerable cells or inhabitants." - Thomas A. Edison

In spite of the significant gap between my last entry and this one, I’ve decided to pick up where I left off in my commentary on the Twelve Steps. Interestingly, I’d come to Step Two: “Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” I say “interestingly” because I am currently a resident at a Christian ministry for men who are coming out of addiction and/or imprisonment.

Being in this ministry has certainly been difficult for me because it’s “all Jesus all the time,” and I do not profess to be a Christian. However, I deeply believe in learning from every situation, and I am working on being content where I am. Altogether, this place has had a profound influence on my spiritual growth. I am more able to recognize my place in the scope of the universe and to accept that, although I am tiny, I am not insignificant.

Now, I have a major problem with the idea of a conscious being orchestrating all life in the universe. I’ve done some incredible mental acrobatics over the years in order to figure out where I fit spiritually. For the sake of time, I will say that I believe that we are all members of the universal body, and, although we have free will within it and have the ability to influence it, ultimately, it is in control. For the sake of simplicity, I will call this universal body “God”.

A few years ago, I developed a meditation that I do before bed each night and when I awake in the morning. I start by attempting to imagine the infinity of the universe. Note that I say “attempt”. Have you ever tried to imagine infinity? It’s impossible. But therein lies the beauty of this exercise.

Okay, I start with the universe, and, then, I move inward. I imagine the Milky Way, then our solar system, then our hemisphere, and so forth until I get down to myself. (Sometimes, when I’ve had a particularly trying day, I’ll try to get down to the cellular or even the atomic level. Yet another awesome endeavor.) I concentrate on myself for a while and then move back out. As I progress outward, I imagine energy emanating from my body and connecting with everything and everyone around me. I pay particular attention to my loved ones and very special attention to anyone I’ve had conflict with. I try to feel that connection with everything and everyone, all the way back out into the vast universe.

Feeling that connection is the entire foundation of my spiritual outlook. For example, the reason I emphasize being connected with people I’ve hurt or who’ve hurt me is to remind me that, despite our conflict, we are one. Because we are one, I absolutely must forgive those who have hurt me, and I must do my best to avoid injuring others. "Love thy neighbor as thyself" is, indeed, a universal precept.

I have to know that I’m connected, and I have to feel that connection at all times. Before I go to bed, this exercise clears and quiets my mind so that I can have a restful sleep. In the morning, it reminds me that I’m plugged in so that I go forward in my day with the right heart and mind.

Essentially, this is how I acknowledge the higher power that is restoring me to sanity. Whenever I feel myself starting to spin out of control, I remember that I am connected and that my power comes from within and without. I didn’t create this power; God endowed me with it, and staying connected keeps me fed.

I Have the Power

Powerlessness and control are two big topics in the Program. The first step says that we must admit that we are powerless over alcohol. In doing my steps, I was instructed to list what I'm powerless against. Being the smartass that I am, I listed items such as the weather, my DNA, and the march of time.

In the back of my head, of course, I was thinking that, although I can't control these things, there are things within my control that I can use to adapt. Bad weather? I can get an umbrella. Genetic predisposition to heart disease? Change my diet. Time? Oil of Olay still has a strong presence on the health and beauty aisle.

The bottom line, for me, isn't what I can't control; it's what I can. This is the problem that I often have in meetings and step work. There seems to be so much emphasis on figuring out what I can't do. There's a push to humble the addict. That push is inspired by an assumption that every addict has some sort of god complex. No, this isn't just a defensive reaction to the Program. In almost every, individual meeting I've attended, someone feels the need to point out that "as addicts/alcoholics," we "want to control everything". The Big Book even begins the chapter on surrender by comparing the alcoholic to an actor who wants to run the entire show.

The Serenity Prayer, which I take very seriously, prompts us to accept what we cannot change, to change what we can, and to learn the difference between the two. Over and over again, I hear people omit the second part. Or, worse, to insinuate that the deeper meaning is that there is nothing that we can change. (This gets into the idea of one’s “Higher Power,” which is a whole topic unto itself, so bear with me.)

I suppose that I do possess a need to be in control, to fix what can be fixed. I come from a family of perfectionists. That seems to be a very au courant claim to make in therapy, but, in my case, it's true. My mother and I only recently resolved my issue with feeling that nothing I ever did was good enough. She was always prompting me to do better. "A B+? Why not an A?" Once, I proudly announced that I'd written a highly lauded acceptance speech for a friend who'd successfully run for Math Club president, and she asked, "Why didn't you run?" This was her way of getting me to fulfill my potential. I internalized that voice, and it dictates most of what I do and how I relate to tasks and to others -- to the world, as a whole.

I want to be my best, and I want the best for others. Why shouldn't I strive for that? And that's where the Serenity Prayer comes into play. No, I cannot change the world (cue Mom: “Why not?”), but I can do my part. I can be the best that I can be and hope that that ripples outward. I can say, "This is how I react to too many shots, and this is how I can prevent that reaction."

I choose to focus, not on what I can't control, but on what I can. I may not be able to control the weather, but I can certainly make sure that I’m outfitted properly. I am not powerless.

They Tried to Make Me Go to Rehab: An Introduction

I’ll just lay it out there. I drink like a fish. For a long time, my ability to consume mass quantities of alcohol was a badge of honor. Then, it became just something that I did. I didn’t take pride in it, but I wasn’t ashamed, either. At some point, I became extremely defensive about it. Why should you care how I choose to spend my free time? Finally, after damaging several close relationships, losing professional credibility, and being unable to support myself, I decided to enter rehab.

”Decided” isn’t entirely accurate. It was more of a mandate from loved ones, really, following several medical scares and public intoxication violations. In fact I’ve been in and out of treatment centers and sober-living facilities for the better part of the last three years. During this time, I have had to closely examine who I am, what I’ve done, and what I think has motivated me. Mind you, I come from some exceptionally analytical people. I’ve had training as a counselor. I’ve been journaling since I was eight. Self-reflection comes easily to me, and I hunger for self-improvement.

In other words, Recovery should be a piece of cake for me. Well, remember that part about three years of living in treatment? It’s not easy.

In these pages, I aim to reflect on why that might be. I don’t know what lies ahead in my future. I’m not entirely sure that I can remain “sober” for the rest of my life. I’m not even sure that abstinence should be an ideal expectation. But that’s what this exploration is all about.

I’ve chosen to share my reflections publically, mainly because I have some pretty major qualms with traditional substance abuse treatment methods (primarily, AA/NA, or the “Program”). This is not meant to be an indictment of the Program, specifically, or Recovery, in general. Rather, I aim to examine the principles and expectations I’ve encountered. Furthermore, I don’t presume that any of my views should apply to everyone. I am not a licensed therapist, and I certainly don’t want to derail anyone from a program that works for him or her. I merely believe that the arena of substance abuse treatment may be very narrow and could possibly use some alternative perspectives. I hope that by discussing this topic in a public, non-Program forum, I can find others with similar outlooks on recovery.

If nothing else, I just want to find a way to live my life happily and successfully.

Next: Powerlessness and surrender

And the Television Audience Said, "Amen"

Dear TV gods,

I know that I pray to you a lot. Sometimes you come through; sometimes you don't. We've had our ups and downs. I've denounced you on many an occasion and praised you on many others. But I'm coming to you again. And I know you're still busy working on bringing back Community (you are working on bringing back Community, right?), but I have one more favor to ask for now. Please, please, for the love of all that is pixelated and holy, make Smash a success.

Okay, I know there are the obvious "you're so gay" reasons for my wanting this show to succeed. It's about the conception and development of a play. A musical. A musical about Marilyn Monroe. And it stars Debra Messing, a.k.a. Grace! My 2(x)ist jock is positively wet with all the gay in this paragraph alone.

But it's not just that this is a homosexual's television dream come true. No, no. I want it to succeed for another reason: I need to be able to keep my sanity. I want it to do well so that I don't have to slog through weeks of every entertainment news outlet talking about how something so hyped failed so miserably. Between Entertainment Weekly, The Hollywood Reporter, Variety, the New York Times and other sources I'm sure I'm forgetting, I just couldn't take all the analysis of a bomb that would definitely go on for at least a month were "Smash" to underperform.

Never mind all the comparisons to Glee. For crap's sake, it's already started, even before the premiere made its way around the internet and On Demand. Already, it's the television equivalent of a parent's pitting his or her children against each other. The last thing I need to read is "Why couldn't you be more like your brother, Glee? He knows how to bring in a wide audience! And after all the publicity we've invested in you." (Publicity, I might add, that may have already doomed tonight's official premiere since, I'd suspect, most of those interested in watching it have already seen it.)

Well, why couldn't I just ignore any dissection of poor results? C'mon, TV gods, you should know me better by now. I am a masochist and will read every single article and opinion I can get my grubby little paws on.

So, please. I beg of you. Make Smash a smash. (Yeah, I just said that!) For my delicate constitution. You sort of owe me now that Chuck is off the air and Rosie is annoying me again.

You Are How You Speak

I post a lot on Facebook. A lot. Particularly about grammar and the trials of using language, in general. Today, however, I seem to have discussed usage a lot more than I normally do, and I really started examining how I write and speak. To be honest, this didn't suddenly occur to me today. I've been thinking about this problem for quite some time now and have been trying to improve myself as a speaker and writer.

I once read that one should avoid slang because it dates the user. Slang is a particular problem for me, as it is, to some degree, for most people. In an effort to be more articulate and less colloquial, I am attempting to wean myself off certain words and phrases. Perhaps by chronicling my efforts, I can better stick to this grammatical workout regimen.

Word/Phrase #1: Issues, as in "I have my own issues to deal with" or "This article I just read has so many issues, I can't even deal." (Stay tuned for Phrase #2.) I'm not sure when everyone started having "issues," but I first heard it in a psychiatric or counselling context. It was a less judgmental way to refer to a person's problems. A client isn't troubled; he has issues. The term caught on outside of this context to mean any general problem a person might have with anything. ("I have issues with David E. Kelley's twisted take on the law.") It has now enjoyed such overuse, in all manner of contexts, that it has lost virtually all meaning.

To highlight this point, let's examine the first paragraph as it more or less originally composed itself in my head:

I post a lot on Facebook. A lot. It's an issue for me. Particularly about grammar and issues with using language, in general. Today, however, I seem to have discussed usage a lot more than normal, and I really started examining how I write and speak. To be honest, this issue didn't suddenly occur to me today. I've been thinking about this issue for quite some time now and have been trying to solve my writing and speaking issues.

This is no longer simply about slang use; it's a matter of overall clarity. "Issue" is, for all intents and purposes, a non-word. And I've got issues with that.

Possible alternatives:
"I have issues with this point." = "I disagree with this point."
"I have so many issues with my mother." = "My mother and I have never gotten along."
"That guy has issues." = "He is an unsavory character."

My God!!!

Apparently, people are upset because Obama didn't praise God, and he started speaking in tongues on Thanksgiving. No? He didn't? Seriously? ...

But it's still suck a thing:

I've already told you the history of Thanksgiving.

They were religious zealots, bad enough that the country wanted to get rid of.

Keep in mind: These (the English) are the same people who sent their prisoners to another WHAT THEY THOUGHT WAS COMPLETELY uninhabitable continent. We now take seriously a country called Australia.

Think about that. They sent these "pilgrims" to a place they thought was uninhabitable. England sent the pilgrims (the same way the sent their convicts) to what they thought was a desolate place TO DIE! (Did you forget the Australians?) And when they were rescued by the natives, they took a homeland feast celebration. I believe it was all amicable.

But this is what Republicans have to remember when pissing about Obama's not talking about "God". Bush didn't do it.

Also, Thanksgiving was a festival harvest. It wasn't a "God" thing...

So, I have to regrettably say again, "Shut up, Christians!"

Happy Freakin' Holidays!

At some point in my youth, my awareness of the world around me grew, as happens with normal human development, and I realized that people had stopped declaring "Merry Christmas" in December and had switched over to "Happy Holidays!" Cities and even small towns stopped erecting nativity scenes on government property, usually due to lawsuits. (Because, what's more American than the separation of church and state? Suing to reinforce what should be common sense.) Schools put on holiday pageants, not Christmas pageants. And, of course, Christians got all up in arms about a war on Christmas and, by extension, Christianity. (Because, what's more American than lawsuits? People in power claiming persecution and discrimination whenever that power is questioned.)

Let me say this, as I feel I must every year: I say "Happy Holidays," not to take Christmas away from Christians or to declare war on Christians, but because -- and this might come as a shock -- Christmas isn't the only holiday going on. I'm not being politically correct (a pejorative term from its very inception); I'm being realistic.

Now, let's talk about the holiday, itself. Listen closely Christians. As a larger cultural institution, Christmas has evolved into a general, secular holiday, open to anyone who wants to celebrate. This is pretty much what happens in an inter-faith (and I use that term to include non-believers, as well) such as ours. However, it's worth mentioning that this sort of secularism isn't purely an American phenomenon. In other words, no one is trying to silence or eradicate Christianity. So just stop bitching. PLEASE! (Please keep this all in mind come Easter time. I don't want to have to repeat myself.)

Okay, now that that's out of the way, here's the real meat of what I'd like to say to you Christians about Christmas: If you want Christmas back, take it. I don't want it. While I like Christmas music and absolutely adore Christmas decorations, I hate the holiday, itself. It's commercial and creates weird expectations (both material and non-material) between people who would normally consider themselves acquaintances, at best. "What about Christmas spirit?" you say. My response would be, "I don't need the month of December to remind me to be nice, gracious and charitable." And, frankly, if I see one more television show's or movie's take on It's a Wonderful Life, I may have to travel back through time and alternate dimensions in order to push George Bailey off that bridge my damn self.

My point is, celebrate the birth of your messiah as much as you want. Have at it. It's all yours. If Christianity goes back to being solely a Christian holiday, then maybe people will stop making that funny face and calling me a Grinch when I say I don't celebrate it. And maybe, just maybe, the eternal question will be answered: "Was there a Jesus Who?"

Why I'm Turning off Live Television This Weekend

I will not be watching television this weekend, at least not live. My DVR's been working overtime to record a bunch of movies. I've never seen Boardwalk Empire, and the new season starts next week, so I think I'll catch up via On Demand. I also have a book to make a heavy dent in. Now, I rarely watch live television anymore to begin with, but I am especially avoiding it this weekend because of 9/11. More accurately, I have been avoiding 9/11 coverage, and I hope to continue to do so.

I lived and worked in NYC for 10 years. So, yes, I was there on the morning of September 11, 2001. My commute took me past Chambers St., mere blocks from the WTC site. In fact, it was at the Chamber St. stop that a man on the platform stuck his head into our train car and alerted us that "a plane just flew into the World Trade Center." I got to work soon after the second plane, and I watched the towers fall. I didn't feel safe crossing the Brooklyn Bridge on foot, so I walked from Chelsea to the Upper East Side. Manhattan was devoid of vehicular traffic, with black helicopters flying overhead. Pretty much everyone was northbound, and we noted that every bar along the way was full, but without the usual vivacity. When the trains were deemed "safe," I rode home in a silence unlike the usual subway car, "I'm just sitting here minding my own business" silence, rather one of suspicion, fear and shell-shock.

I don't need to "Remember 9/11;" I already do. Constantly. While I appreciate that you'll "Never Forget," sometimes, that's really all I want to do.

The coverage this weekend is not for those for whom 9/11 had a direct impact, in the same way that coverage of a natural disaster or murder trial isn't for the people who've lived through it. And I know that my experience is really the best-case scenario for someone who was in NYC or DC that day. Still, I would rather avoid the images and "close call" stories. I have plenty locked away.

I'll admit that I'd been anticipating this anniversary for some time. And, were I in NYC, I would probably be with friends, being thankful for coming through a tragedy, remembering those who didn't and thoughtfully reflecting on how to take further positive steps forward as a society and as part of the larger global community.

But I'm not in NYC, and that's sort of the central issue, here. I'm not in NYC, and I feel as though I need to be. Because, right now, right here, all of the media coverage feels like only that: coverage. And I'm not saying that the whole country didn't feel terrified or uprooted or that everyone else didn't mourn, as well. I'm not saying that commemoration isn't the right thing to do. I'm saying that none of it helps me, especially being so far away from my adopted home.

So I'll be watching The Princess Bride and reading A Game of Thrones.

The Corner Table: You Are Cordially Invited

You may be happy to know that I have created a workable Excel spreadsheet with which to catalog my recipes. (You may not be happy to know this or you may not care, but just keep that negativity to your damn self, m'kay?) I've tackled one recipe folder out of 11 on my computer. So far, that's 104 out of 747. If you're keeping track, that means that I've deleted a few. They were mostly puddings and all the measurements were metric. I don't even really like puddings, and I'm not wasting time converting metric measurements for recipes I'm probably not going to make. Never mind that most measuring cups have both systems of measurement. That's the not the point. The point is that I am so enamored with recipes that I will copy a recipe just for the sake of copying it!... But , like most things in life, it's not necessarily that simple.

If nothing else, this project will be an exciting exploration of my food proclivities and culinary desires. (Again, if you don't agree with this observation, please... just... no.) For example, why did I have five different pudding recipes? I don't even like desserts all that much. What I do like, however, is imagining hosting gorgeous dinner parties. No, no. It's no special occasion. I just thought it would be nice to cram 10 of my closest friends into my Jersey City studio. Thanks for braving the PATH! I've got sleeping bags if you don't feel safe walking back to the train this late.

Wait... Where was I? Oh, yeah. Dinner parties. I think the idea of playing host, whether it be a dinner party or overnight guests, is one of the largest criteria for which recipes I acquire. I have planned elaborate spreads, from appetizers to dessert, with cocktails to start and warm beverages to close. For the unlikely possibility of hosting house guests, I am compelled to save jam recipes. Now, I usually eat plain peanut butter sandwiches or toast with just butter or a bagel with just cream cheese. I don't need jam. But the idea of giving a jar of homemade jam as a gift stimulates the Martha Stewart center of my brain. Likewise with scones, imagine staying at a friend's house and waking up to fresh scones. Or a parfait. Or an elaborate breakfast. (French toast casserole with brown sugar bacon, anyone?)

And it's not just acting as a host; there is also the matter of being a thoughtful guest. Who wouldn't love a basket of cookies as a thank-you gift? And who among us hasn't racked our brains to figure out the perfect take-along to a BBQ or party? This is how I've wound up with well over 200 appetizers and desserts, including consciously acquired vegetarian, vegan and gluten-free options. Mind you, many of these recipes (especially, as mentioned earlier, the desserts), I would never actually eat, myself. But, as an imagined guest, I must always have ideas at the ready. This is why my catalog also includes a "Special Occasion" category, so that I can easily filter for items appropriate for Christmas or Passover or a baby shower Flag Day pool party.

Goodness knows that most of these recipes will never come to life in my kitchen, and who knows whether I'll ever actually host that dinner party. But, like a Boy Scout, I am super-gay. I mean, always prepared.

The Corner Table: You Are What You Want to Eat

I love food. This is most visibly apparent by my bulging waistline and the constant rivulet of saliva traversing down the bottom right side of my face. Yup, I love food. I love eating it. I love smelling it. I love talking about it. I love dreaming about it... Okay, not really. I usually have nightmares about food, in that I never actually get to eat in any of my dreams involving food (usually served buffet style), but I digress.

Most importantly, I have found that I love cooking food. More accurately, I have rediscovered a love of cooking. When I was young, I would watch cooking shows on TV. Julia Child was my favorite (and, perhaps, my first), and I would madly transcribe the recipes as she reeled them off with such delight. I never got to try any of those recipes, but I eventually became quite the consummate baker during high school. That was driven mostly by my insatiable adolescent appetite. I would come home craving an after-school snack, so I'd bake some biscuits. Or some cookies. Or a cake!

As an adult, I lost the will to cook for myself, but never the love. Two of my proudest domestic moments from early on were making homemade cranberry sorbet and pumpkin cheesecake for Thanksgiving at my friends' house and, the next year, making a full Thanksgiving meal for four at my own apartment (with vegetarian accommodations, even!).

Over the past few years, I have come full circle, once again feverishly copying recipes. Thankfully, 20 years of technological advances have allowed me to jump from manually transcribing Julia Child to Googling a recipe, then simply cutting and pasting it into a document. (This has led to a serious recipe collecting addiction that blasts the Pokemon craze out of the freakin' water.) I've also been able to test -- and modify -- several great recipes, for both traditional homemade fare and restaurant-quality items. This is where I stand right now and where you, dear reader (because I assume there's only one of you), reap the benefit of my trial and error.

I have long wanted to add a food component to this blog. Food is as integral to a culture as its politics or religion(s) (or lack, thereof). Like any institution, it influences and is influenced by its people, their history and their surroundings. It brings us together -- and, when there's only one donut left, can tear us apart. It is entertainment; it is culture. And, of course, that is what I write about and explore.

So, welcome to the Corner Table! My current project is cataloging the 753 recipes I have saved on my computer (I told you I was addicted) and coming up with a successful system that will ultimately allow me to more easily access my recipes for whatever need I am trying to meet. This may take awhile, so that's probably what I'll focus on for the moment. But once I'm up and running again, I aim to delve into my foodie adventures. I hope you'll enjoy them as much as I do.

So, slap on your rib bib, grab a wet nap and let's do this!

"Look, Mom! I Got a Golden Globe!"

The above quote is brought to you by Melissa Leo, winner of Best Supporting Actress for The Fighter. And that, my friends, encapsulates what awards shows are supposed to be about. There were a few great moments like that during the show, but, honestly, most of it was forced and hackneyed. I'm lookin' at you, weird intro with Jimmy Fallon and January Jones, and I'm not entirely sure about what to make of Robert DeNiro's speech for the Cecil B. DeMille Award.

Now, this is the first time since, I guess, high school that I've watched an awards show without a drink or five in my hand. Are they always this difficult to sit through? And, I've said it before, and I'll keep saying it until someone listens to me: For the love of god, post your thank-you lists to your personal websites! Other than your partner, parents and children, I don't want to hear it. If you have to thank your housekeeper and the Korean lady who scours the callouses from the soles of your feet, do it somewhere else. That's why blogs were invented.

Besides Leo's speech, other great acceptances were Jim Parsons and Chris Colfer. Both were deserving of their wins, and both were stunned and sincere in their speeches. Jim Parsons was especially adorable, as he gratefully accepted the award from his co-star Kaley Cuoco. Chris Colfer's speech was somewhat de rigeur in its social commentary, but still amazing with his final declaration to the naysayers: "Screw you!" (Also, on E!'s After-Party, he claimed that he's going to sleep with the award for a week, just to know that it's real. "Usually, when I win one of these, I wake up." Cute!)

Chris Colfer was only one aspect of a fairly gay night. The gays really cleaned up, y'all! Besides the nominations of several gay men and women and gay-themed or -friendly fare, Colfer's co-star Jane Lynch won and thanked her wife and children. Annette Bening won for her fantastic portrayal of a lesbian partner and co-parent (recognizing her co-star, Julianne Moore), and The Kids Are All Right won for Best Motion Picture, Comedy or Musical. I was ecstatic for every single one of these wins. Though, let's be honest here. I would have been happy for anyone but Burlesque. If Burlesque had won, I would have performed seppuku right then and there. And, then there's Glee. Best Television Series, Comedy or Musical.

Really?

I love Glee, and I've stood by it, even during this horrid season. But the HFPA is seriously going to sit there and tell me that Glee is a better show than The Big C, Modern Family, The Big Bang Theory and 30 Rock? Honestly? You're going to stand by that? Alright. Moving on, then.

Speaking of The Big C, I'd like to take this moment to apologize for my earlier comment about Laura Linney's absence. It wasn't really meant to be funny to begin with, just an observation, but I also hadn't realized that her father passed away this weekend, which is why she couldn't be at the ceremony. That's got to be a terrible thing to deal with, regardless, but especially during what should be a celebratory time for her.

Finally, I'd like to address the topic of Ricky Gervais. I'm quite surprised that they brought him back, honestly. But I appreciated his humor, and, frankly, I think the audience were pretty poor sports about it. Maybe they weren't drunk enough, I don't know. But I think he was just this side of the line, and it worked for me. I'm sure he's done for on the awards shows circuit, though.

Well, kids. That's it. Those were the Globes. Not terribly intriguing or entertaining. My biggest take-away is that I really have to bone up before the Oscars. I definitely have to go to AMC's annual Best Picture marathon. But my Netflix is still going to be pretty busy as I scope out other nominees.

Thanks for reading, everyone. I really appreciate it.

Now for my favorite quotes:

Runner-Up: "You may remember him from the film as the guy when he's asked 'Would you sleep with that girl,' he says, 'Pssh! No.' He's such a good actor. He totally wanted to sleep with me." -- Natalie Portman, acknowledging her babydaddy

Quote of the Night: "There's gotta be an easier way to get a standing ovation." -- Michael Douglas

Around the Globes in 180 Minutes

The main event...

8:03 - Thank god for alcohol, eh, Ricky? I'm actually enjoying him, but the audience might need a few snootfuls to loosen up.

8:05 - I didn't see Geoffrey Rush on the red carpet. Very Marshall-Erikson-getting-married.
Ooh! Shot of the countdown clock.

8:14 - And the computer's attitude continues...
I really enjoyed how happy Ed O'Neill was for Katey Sagal. That was sweet. (And a great call from the director to grab that shot.)

8:17 - This annoys me every year: Miss Golden Globe. Isn't it time to allow some sons to help present at the Globes?

8:25 - Chris Colfer FTW!!! You'll excuse me for a moment. I can't see my screen through the tears.

8:30 - Remember when Michelle Pfeiffer was interesting? That was before Botox.

8:48 - I do believe that Diane Warren was just mouthing, "Oh, shit. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod..."

8:50 - Trent Reznor beat out both Hans Zimmer and Danny Elfman for Best Score? That, my friends, is the very definition of an upset.

8:58 - "Toy Story 3"? I think the word you're looking for is "Dur."

9:04 - Jesse Tyler Ferguson just snapped a shot with Jenna Ushkowitz from "Glee" on his iPhone. I am seriously going to steal him away from his boyfriend. Sorry, NPH, I have a new TV crush. You had your chance, and you missed out.

9:11 - Al Pacino wins for Best Actor in a TV Movie and gets a standing ovation -- except for Paul Giamatti, whom he has to push past. Nice one.

9:20 - Did L'Oreal run that commercial because JLo was a presenter tonight or because most of the audience is women? These are the things I wonder. (And, yes, obviously, it's both. Leave me be.)

9:24 - Good call getting Zac Efron to present the gay movie. Bad call on that crew cut.

9:39 - There are Helen Mirren and her boobs! I can't go through a GG or Oscars broadcast without them.

9:48 - Jim Parsons! So deserving.

10:14 - That's Darren Aronofsky? Nice pornstache.

10:16 - I really wish award winners would stop telling their kids to go to bed. It's trite.

10:18 - Glee wins, and gays and misfits around the country break out into ear-splitting song.
But, seriously. Did the whole cast have to go on stage? Gimme a break.

10:54 - What a beautiful moment of support for Michael Douglas. "There's gotta be an easier way to get a standing ovation."

Kickin' 'Em in the Globes

Oh, the Golden Globes. The tipsy uncle of the awards show season. So much fun, and often a good predictor of how the Emmys and Oscars will go.

Okay! So, after some technical difficulties, we're up and running. And away we go!

Red Carpet
6:19 - Playing catch-up:
Olivia Wild's dress was amazing.
I'm in love with the 360 cam.
Good lord, I'm always amazed by how short Seacrest is.
Poor Kelly Osbourne and George What's-his-face are stumbling all over themselves.
I will drive a pencil through my temples if I hear "babybump" one more time.

6:21 - Note to self: Closed captioning will do you no good tonight.

6:28 - Yeesh. Mark Salling looks like a little boy in his tux.

6:30 - Alec Baldwin/Jim Parsons "tension". Quick, in a fight, who kicks whose ass?

6:34 - "Lei" jokes? Really? Well, it is E!

6:35 - Elisabeth Moss!!! She looks gorgeous. I love that green on her. I read that she is/was married to Fred Armisen from SNL. What an odd pairing.

6:37 - There goes Helena Bonham-Carter in the background, looking insane as usual. But I love her.

6:43 - Sarah Hyland is so adorable! She's phenomenal on Modern Family. "I'm sorry you hate me. I don't know you." Awesome.

6:45 - What's up with all the ponytails tonight? Are people worried that they're going to get too smashed tonight to deal with their hair once they get home?

6:47 - Yay! Jesse Tyler Ferguson! I am so in love with him. Frotch!

6:48 - And pull out to show Matt Bomer. Two queers on screen at once. Is that allowed on primetime?

6:53 - Wondering whether my popcorn will last through the show. Probably not.

6:55 - So it looks like Jane Krakowski and Natalie Portman decided to show off the bellies.
Also? No more Limo Cam. Annoying.

6:56 - Is Lea Michele going to prom? Did her mom and dad lift curfew tonight?

6:57 - Not liking the flower on Natalie's dress. But her hair is simple and beautiful. And that necklace is divine.

6:58 - Jason Segel and Jimmy Fallon sharing a stage? What bizarro world is this? Oh, god. That was... something.

7:06 - Count me among the people who didn't realize that Emma Stone was a natural blonde. She's been either brunette or a redhead in everything I've seen her in. Is it weird to say that I don't like her natural hair color? She looks washed out.

7:10 - Switched over to NBC. Sandra Bullock's looking good. I guess it's Ryan Reynold's Canadian lovin'.
I'll bet you Chris Colfer's sick of answering "What's it like to be a gay role model?"

7:12 - Back on E! What's going on with the Biebs? I must have missed why he's here.

7:14 - "The two Janes." Heh. I like the sparkle at the bottom of Jane Lynch's gown. But again with unnecessary floral embellishments!

7:22 - More freakiness with my computer...
Michael Douglas looks quite well, and he's making jokes. That's great to see.
I didn't like Sofia Vergara's dress when I first saw it, but close-up, it's uniquely beautiful.
Um... What happened to the 360 cam?

7:26 - Just caught a glimpse of Christina Aguilera. It's Booblesque!

7:27 - It's so weird to me that Mila Kunis of That 70s Show and Family Guy fame is nominated for a GG. Just goes to show you how people can be underestimated.
And another shot of Elisabeth Moss. I love her, really. But, what's with all the camera attention?

7:32 - A lot of pink/flesh-toney gowns tonight. Eh.

7:40 - I freaking LOVE Halle Berry's dress! So sassy and sexy.
Halle as Aretha? Hm... I think that Jennifer Hudson would beat a girl down. But that voice is too unique. They'd have to dub in the vocals no matter who the actress was.

7:42 - Not fond of Anne Hathaway's dress. Not in the least.

7:53 - And, unlike his friend HBC, Johnny Depp actually look not-insane for a change.
Vavoom, January Jones!!!