My giraffe friend and I had a philosophical conversation this afternoon.  I snapped this photo for a memento of the moment. 

 I was informed that this last statement is from the department of redundant redundancy..

The One-Minute Writer: Today's Writing Prompt: Lie

I found an interesting writing blog, aptly labeled The One-Minute Writer.

This blogger concept is use 60 seconds to scribe a brief narration relating to the daily topic provided by the blog’s author. 

My addition is included after the link.

 The One-Minute Writer: Today's Writing Prompt: Lie

A lie I told to someone or to myself……

I lie to myself daily - sometimes by the hour or minute.  I lie to myself about the bizarre, distressing, sorrowful and fearful things I hear each day in my line of work.  I tell myself “I’ve done all I can” or “it’s out of my hands.”  And within this piercing abundance of lies is the soft whispering of my soul that tells me it will be okay tomorrow.

Facebook and the Brain

This evening I made the transition into the social phenomena known as Facebook. Interestingly enough once I discovered “friends” (some of which I have not spoken to for some time) I became absorbed in this electronic process.

Forcing myself to shift gears and redirect my attention I clicked on over to one of my weekly reader blogs, Neuroskeptic. Coincidentally the latest post was about the perils of Facebook, albeit skeptical (as the blogger’s name suggests) but also honest in the opinion that were made about Baroness Susan Greenfield.
The post in its entirety can be located here.

Interesting and valid points made on both sides.

Let us all shovel crap

I read an article in a neo-feminist women’s magazine a few weeks ago in my local hair salon while artificially altering my hair color. The article was titled “Analyze This.. Therapy Pro and Con” Intrigued, but with a smidgen of skepticism I began to explore the editorial. The author (a woman in her early thirties) began by recounting her “pro” experiences with a PhD therapist who, based on the recounting of the sessions, appeared to be more of a reflective, “Rogerianesque” type of clinician. The writer discussed her therapist’s suggestions of sibling jealousy between the financially successful writer and her domestically successful sister. Her narrative itself was mildly interesting with, as expected a poignant ending to the story - discovering that her therapist was, in fact correct in his/her assumptions of the writer’s systemic/family dynamics. If the article had stopped there perhaps that would be been a decent ending to an ordinary but informative story…..but there was more. The four page crap fest continued with a side bar of “Shrink Deal Breakers, find out if you need to dump yours.” This idiotic “list” included such items as “find another therapist if yours blogs, wears a toupee” and my favorite, “has a catchphrase.” I will be the first to admit that not every person that walks into a therapist’s office will develop an instant rapport and become sold on mental health, but to end therapy based on such trivial issues like catchphrases? And how would some neurotic, feminist “journalist” who writes for a women’s magazine be an expert on what makes a good therapist? These were just a few of my concerns about the shallow, arrogant and much uninformed commentary.

I then moved over to another personal story in hopes that I could calm my internal seething. The last portion of the article was written by a 20-something, woman who had participated in psychotherapy for a number of years while residing in a big metropolitan city. This woman’s story was the “therapy con” portion of the article and actually was far more intriguing than the “pro” portion. The woman discussed her life issues, struggles and weekly therapy sessions that seemed to be a requirement of her social circle. After an undisclosed number of years living out her life and making decisions based on a psychoanalyst’s “insights” the woman moved to an animal farm near the outskirts of this city and began a “simple life” of scooping horse dung while contemplating life’s “real issues.” She discussed her innate ability to develop her own brand of insight, problem solving and inner peace all while working with horses and their excretions. I was inspired and amazed at this woman’s ability to take her self-consumed world and look outside of herself to transform her cognitive processes through helping others. This concept is at the heart of what life change and ultimately therapy, is about. In addition to her inspiring story this woman made a statement that was so clear, concise and irreverent I had to read the passage several times to ensure I had grasped the truth in the statement. She wrote, “Some people use therapy to justify their own stagnation.” ABSOLUTELY!!! I could not agree more. In fact, perhaps some people who enter therapy need to be told that this statement may really be the crux of their “issues.” A responsible and ethical therapist will and should let their client’s know when their weekly sessions have become a breeding ground for an idle life. A neurotic, hyper-focus on life issues - irrelevant and perhaps destructive to our cognition is not helpful and probably causes one to truly live their life unexamined.

If shoveling horse manure can allow one to shift their focus from “my mother never loved me enough” to “my mother did the best she could with what she had and it is up to me to stop blaming everyone else for my self-inflicted suffering” then let us all shovel crap – both literally and figuratively.

Brain Poking

I just read the most fascinating, heartbreaking and disturbing article. The commentary detailed the historical context of the prefrontal lobotomy or as originally coined the leucotomy. I have been aware, and to some extent self-educated about the rise and fall of the lobotomy cult however, I have never quite read personal accounts like this one. I suppose the reading or hearing about the scientific perspective (severing or uncoupling of the brain's emotional centers) of this procedure is less painful (no pun intended) than reading the emotional narratives of those affected by this “surgery.”

Not only was it the personal stories, but also the parallel-dichotomy that existed between those affected by the “procedure” and the physicians and researches that elevated the “cure all.” From the historical standpoint the initiative for the lobotomy came as a result of the 19th century uncertainty of how to treat or help the mentally ill population.

Okay, so let’s reason for a moment that in the early 1890’s the “insane” and those with incurable “madness” were in fact overcrowding the asylums. And well, let me even go so far as to say that the mad people also were demonstrating socially erratic behavior. To add more emphasis, let us also consider that perhaps the behavior was so bizarre that families and local villagers would scurry into their drafty homes with fear and panic, and lock the doors only to cautiously peer through the windows in order to observe the devil possessed populace. The fear and terror was probably so entrenched that the villagers considered aloud if they too could possibly “catch” the illness, after all the black plague nearly wiped out an entire country. So it is with this dramatic, yet perhaps all too real scenario that we are able to evoke the images of not only those struggling with an illness, but also the naivety and trepidation of those residing in this era.

The experimentation, and superficial desire to help advance science resulted in the invention and subsequent persuasion of the medical community to believe that aimlessly poking around in your brain could be a great idea. The evolution of the lobotomy resulted from a German physiologist experimentations that led to an asylum director in Switzerland which then links to a Portuguese neuropsychiatrist. This Portuguese fella then borrowed from the work of various researchers to (this is where this gets so good) get shot in the spinal column by a non-lobotomized patient (karma really does suck) and then he went on to win the Nobel Prize for his “medical innovations in neurosurgery.” But the story doesn’t and there. It was a clinical neurologist (a one Walter Freeman) that popularized the procedure in the United States.

I understand that hindsight is always far more clear then objective evaluations while “in the moment,” but from what I can construe the historical literature is very clear in that every single one of these scientists were vehemently met with opposition to this procedure. The literature illustrates that there were those within the medical community as well every day folk that believed this was wrong and far more dangerous than ol’ snake oil salesman Freeman led them to believe.

In spite of the protest Dr. Freeman embarked on a United States tour de crazy that allowed him to astonish the American populist with the following breathtaking feats.

The procedure would begin with the patient being clothed in a white ceremonial gown.

Electro shock would gently lull the patient to sleep while the “doctor” would insert his innovative ice pick (specially created to quickly and efficiently sever the thalamo-cortical fibers) into the patients eyeball orbit.

Once “in” Freeman would sway his ice pick in a “to and fro” or back and forth motion to ensure all tissue was severed.

Then, rinse and repeat on the opposing eyeball orbit/PFC area.

This entire life changing procedure was done within as little as 10 minutes.

The most astonishing events occurred when Freeman used his “skillz” to astound witnesses by performing two-handed lobotomies, or by demonstrating the operation in a production line manner.

Freeman once lobotomized 25 women in a single day.

All of Freeman’s selfless work and implementation of a miracle cure was frequently featured in local newspapers, television and major magazines.

And all the while Freeman left women, children and men without the necessary brain functions to be a “whole person.”

I can’t judge this man’s intentions. But what I can say is he was not so much unlike his patients or any person past, present or future – searching for acceptance, accolades, love, respect, understanding and peace. You see, Freeman’s story however horrific and cold it may seem, is the chronicled life of a man perhaps desiring to help others only to be swept away in the excitement of a miracle cure and the pride of his achievements.

The most heartbreaking or poetically interesting part of this story was Dr. Freeman. With the availability of anti-psychotic medication Freeman’s procedure became obsolete. So as the phone calls became fewer and fewer and the fanfare disappeared. Freeman sold his home and traveled the United States in a camper making contact with previous patients to prove (or alleviate guilt) that his procedures had succeeded.

Be leery of brain poking!

Fatigue and Mania

As I meddled through many o’ blogs I developed some random, yet stirring thoughts.

This night insomnia and I battle it out again, but I always prevail even if only with 4 hours of sleep.


People are weird. Simple, I know but also profound within its simplicity (let it sink in a while)

I will now accept that I am really quite nosy

Captain crunch is delicious at 1:30 in the morning.

Most people are so cliché

The lack of punctuation can often imply more

Girls can be Jedi’s

Unprovoked kindness is exquisite

Wit and humor is sexy (add a dash of sarcasm and confidence and ..well…….swoon)

Imperfect Perfection

We all spend a great deal of our life (at least the portion of our life where we are cognitively aware of our individual existence) worrying, ruminating and even performing based on our perception of what others may or may not think of us. Somewhere around our third decade of life we begin gain the insight that everyone (ourselves included) had always been doing nothing more than “performing” to satisfy our own neurotic desires.

What does this mean?

Is perception really reality?

And if so, what does it take to alter our “reality” in order to evoke a prudent change?

Is it love, acceptance, the ability to empathize with humanity?

Whatever the answer, these existential queries led me to the subsequent introspection, or vice-versa. .

I heard a very touching monologue in a movie I recently watched. The premise of said movie was based on the true account of a screenwriter. The main character, a man in his early thirties was experiencing what we call depersonalization disorder, or a form of dissociation. Depersonalization is exactly what it sounds like; the feeling as though an individual is disconnected from themselves emotionally, like watching themselves in a movie. The primary concern is that the individual is still very much cognitive of their situation. Much akin to the axiom that ‘if one thinks they are “crazy” they are most likely not “crazy.” The crass, and at times clever account of this man’s life was mildly entertaining but it was the admirable and deeply romantic love story that moved me.

The love that was portrayed in this film was a charming demonstration of what unconditional love should represent. More specifically, this monologue (as emoted by the female lead) is an amiable description of unconditional, wholehearted, passionate, very real love.

“I want to know that if I lost all my limbs, we'd still be together forever. When you say my name it would always sound safe. When we go out I would put on perfume and you would put on cologne and we would sit next to each other and just smell each other. I would know that you could always make me smile when I was tired and I would never be scared to tell you anything. And if I liked one of your favorite shirts you would let me wear it every day just so I could smell you when you’re not with me. I want a love just like my grandmother and grandfather; you see my grandmother has arthritis and can’t bend over to paint her toenails so my grandfather does it for her and never complains, even though he has arthritis too."

Beautiful!!