For many years, I tried to use humor to win friends, attract women, and make money.
However, one day, when I hit rock bottom, I realized I had no friends, no women, and no money.
A light bulb went on. I realized that my humor was a wall. A wall that kept people and real feelings out. Heartbreak? Blocked. Disappointment? Shielded. But I also blocked the arrows of love, joy, and happiness. All kept out, I realized, to avoid life's roller coaster of emotions. But what I realized was that while the ups and downs were less high and less low, my roller coaster was now a straight line. It was a spiritual lithium, in addition to the chemical lithium I was prescribed.
But I've torn down the wall, which I call The Great Wall of Funny. And you know what? I have experienced highs and lows I never have before! Sometimes I will have a spontaneous cleansing sobbing jag at work! Sometimes I will just streak along a major thoroughfare for no reason! (My date on the night in question still has to tear down her Great Wall of Embarrassment and Indignation)
I hear voices I never heard before! Beautiful, joyful, crying, angry voices! I call them the Mongol Hordes of Feelings. They tell me to cry when I'm sad and hit when I'm angry, but never laugh, or the Wall goes right back up again.
I realized nothing is funny. Comedy is someone else's misfortune and pain and just thinking about Dude Where's My Car makes me want to cry. Laughter is just plain wrong.
Tear down your Great Wall and let those Hordes in! Let them pillage and wreak havoc on your psyche! Oh, the places you'll black out and go!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
What are Your Vampire Bats?
Last night, I watched Dirty Jobs on the Discover Channel. The host ventured with researchers into a famous bat cave outside Austin, Texas, home to millions of bats. They had to put on waders to walk through all the guano. It was extremely dark in that cave, and it goes without saying—though I'll say it anyway—that bats love the dark.
It made me think of how often we enjoy being in the dark. We have sex in the dark, we sleep in the dark. The dark is good, right? In the dark, we can't see our problems, and we think things are great.
But you know who else likes the dark? That's right. Vampire bats. They can see in the dark. They can see you. They swoop in on you, attach themselves and suck your blood—your very lifeblood!—from you, draining you until you can't stand under your own power. Then you fall face first in the guano. And you don't even know why.
Why? Because it's dark! You can't see all the vampire bats clinging to you like furry, winged leeches with wings, draining you of the blood...the blood is the life!
But you don't turn into a vampire, oh no! You just die and decompose in the guano. But here I am, shining a light in your cave yo guide you out. At first you're horrified to see all those bats clinging to you, and you get mad at me—Me!—for showing you your vampire bats and demand that I turn off the light.
You even come to regard your bats as "cute" and "endearing," like your penchant for nibbling off other people's plates, and you don't want them to leave. You want me—Me!—to leave. Instead, I drag you kicking and screaming into the light. You try to run back. I tackle you. I tie you to a tree outside. You hate me, curse me, threaten to call the police. But wait! Where did the bats go? They ran shrieking from the light, back into their cave.
So, yes, we may like to be in the dark when it comes to our problems, but the dark is dangerous. Because of the vampire bats. We all have vampire bats in our life, draining us of our precious lifeblood—and our very souls. Here are some common ones:
It made me think of how often we enjoy being in the dark. We have sex in the dark, we sleep in the dark. The dark is good, right? In the dark, we can't see our problems, and we think things are great.
But you know who else likes the dark? That's right. Vampire bats. They can see in the dark. They can see you. They swoop in on you, attach themselves and suck your blood—your very lifeblood!—from you, draining you until you can't stand under your own power. Then you fall face first in the guano. And you don't even know why.
Why? Because it's dark! You can't see all the vampire bats clinging to you like furry, winged leeches with wings, draining you of the blood...the blood is the life!
But you don't turn into a vampire, oh no! You just die and decompose in the guano. But here I am, shining a light in your cave yo guide you out. At first you're horrified to see all those bats clinging to you, and you get mad at me—Me!—for showing you your vampire bats and demand that I turn off the light.
You even come to regard your bats as "cute" and "endearing," like your penchant for nibbling off other people's plates, and you don't want them to leave. You want me—Me!—to leave. Instead, I drag you kicking and screaming into the light. You try to run back. I tackle you. I tie you to a tree outside. You hate me, curse me, threaten to call the police. But wait! Where did the bats go? They ran shrieking from the light, back into their cave.
So, yes, we may like to be in the dark when it comes to our problems, but the dark is dangerous. Because of the vampire bats. We all have vampire bats in our life, draining us of our precious lifeblood—and our very souls. Here are some common ones:
- Spouse
- Work
- Family
- Friends
- Religion
- Coworkers
- Roommates
- The homeless
- Coworkers
- Bill collectors
- Supervisors
- Crossing guards
- Policemen
- Firemen
- Elevator repairmen
- Women
- Men
- Children
- Pets
- Stop signs
- Jury duty
- Yard work
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Welcome!
Welcome to my self-help blog! Or should I say thank you for welcoming me into your computer and your MindHeart!
I have a unique view on life and the Universe gleaned from years of poring through self-help books in Barnes & Noble over an empty cup of coffee that I think can be beneficial to humans and other mammals, and I have a desperate need to share it.
This brings me to my first MindHeart Gem: To fill up the cup of knowledge that is you, you must be an empty cup. And if you want to spend hours researching the Universe at Barnes & Noble without being pestered by the staff, you must have an empty cup. No one's cup is emptier than mine.
My purpose, really, is not to write an "answer" column, as there are no "answers." Our desire for "answers" is merely our lizard brain trying to cope with the desert of existence, sticking its tongue out in a vain attempt to find food or love. The desire for answers leads to dogma. I am absolutely against dogma 100%! Any dogmatic person who says they have answers is wrong, wrong, wrong! Fundamentally and 100%! There are no answers!
And with that, I leave you with an empty cup.
I have a unique view on life and the Universe gleaned from years of poring through self-help books in Barnes & Noble over an empty cup of coffee that I think can be beneficial to humans and other mammals, and I have a desperate need to share it.
This brings me to my first MindHeart Gem: To fill up the cup of knowledge that is you, you must be an empty cup. And if you want to spend hours researching the Universe at Barnes & Noble without being pestered by the staff, you must have an empty cup. No one's cup is emptier than mine.
My purpose, really, is not to write an "answer" column, as there are no "answers." Our desire for "answers" is merely our lizard brain trying to cope with the desert of existence, sticking its tongue out in a vain attempt to find food or love. The desire for answers leads to dogma. I am absolutely against dogma 100%! Any dogmatic person who says they have answers is wrong, wrong, wrong! Fundamentally and 100%! There are no answers!
And with that, I leave you with an empty cup.
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