Is the Glass Half Full or Half Empty? It’s Both, You Freaking Idiot

Well, I guess the title kind of says it all.

But lest you think the raw power, the curious structure, or the liberal use of a metaphor is lost on me, it’s not. I am clearly aware of my own quite (and probably overly) literal pecking at the nape of what, for many, is undoubtedly at least a useful thought, if not a philosophical gem…the “half full or half empty” conundrum.

But I’m here to tell you that metaphors aside, at least in my experience, it is literally true that this Barney the Dinosaur “sippy” cup we call life is simultaneously half empty and half full.  By definition, in fact.  And by necessity, to go even further (and I verge now upon the hallowed ground of many legitimate, actual philosophers)…for without half empty, there is no half full.  It’s sip-ple.

Commentary: I Think Cockroaches Need a Competent Public Relations Manager

Common household roaches A. German cockroach, ...

Image via Wikipedia

Stop! Before you stomp on that cockroach, think about things from its perspective. He is just trying to eke out an existence the only way his miniscule brain knows how, by sneaking out into the kitchen at night and snacking on crumbs left on the counter, appliances, floor, table, and chairs. What does he get for being eco-friendly (e.g. eating all the food you’re obviously not planning to finish and drinking water being squandered from the tap), quiet, and always willing to scurry away to some creepy dark corner of the kitchen when you enter the room, thereby showing the respect due you as the head of the house? A look of disgust and the brutal slap of a rolled up newspaper, that’s what. If she’s lucky, you don’t try to use some half-assed envelope, subjecting the poor thing to a mutually terrifying and needlessly prolonged “slap–pause–quivering antennae–slap–stillness–antennae twitch–scurry scurry–damn thing!–smack–SLAP!” drama. There’s no honor in that.

In short, I think cockroaches need a positively minded public relations professional capable of putting together some kind of image improving campaign…clearly as a species they have a public relations deficit that so often finds them subjected to the panicked spraying of half a can of Raid under the fridge despite the fact they’re now far out of the aerosol’s reach. Such a professional could help put a more friendly spin on this robust yet gentle creature that fears you more than you fear it (probably) and can’t help it if its stomach has disgusting teeth-like barbs the creepiness of which is unrivaled in the animate world. Continue reading

One Year, Two Stories

Okay, so this is the most “blog-ish” thing I have written to date. It’s almost as if I’m about to tell you about young Blane’s first piano recital or to reveal the great cupcake recipe I just stumbled across. Still, format is format, and by the end you should get the point and forgive me this foray…

Man, what a year.

I left my life behind, and with it my closest friends and entire family. Oh, how I miss them. It’s really hard. I moved to a foreign country for the first time and it’s difficult adjusting to an entirely different culture, people, system. I enrolled in a challenging educational program and at times wondered if I would make it through. I got depressed and anxious, which although not new to me, were intensified in this unfamiliar context as old self-esteem and self-confidence issues reared their ugly, familiar heads. In January, a ruptured disc in my spine was discovered, and I went through the physical and emotional challenge of neck fusion. A few months later, finally recovered, I took up bicycling, only to crash in a cement culvert, breaking a rib and incurring various other bruises, cuts, and abrasions. I haven’t felt physically “right” since I got here. Whether it was the neck or rib or ongoing sinusitis, it’s been hard dragging these aging bones around. The record is getting impressive (or, more accurately, depressive!)—two knee surgeries, two spine surgeries, broken hand, broken rib, broken spirit.  Continue reading