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July 21, 2010
So I’m sitting here in Spicewood Texas at a nice little place. There are plenty of trees, and a magnificent natural swimming hole with waterfalls and springs. My boss was calling and I didn’t want to talk to him, so I didn’t. I emailed him instead. It was a pretty lousy thing to do, but this is my once a year visit with my family, and it is only for a few days. I love my job, and will go back to working my six or seven days a week soon enough. There comes a time when you just have to decide what is most important to you. I chose to enjoy my family. I’ll deal with the consequences later. I did leave a few hours early, but I had tended to the needs of the company. If I had just said nothing, I would have been better off. I could still do the job by phone, and enjoy the time. My absence would hardly go noticed.
So why am I sitting here writing about it? Because this is a pleasure! I am surrounded by my loved ones, in a marvelous natural environment, and just enjoying some personal thoughts. I am sharing a few with you now… because I want to! Continue reading Healing Dose of Happiness
July 10, 2010
Posted by paul perry poet in: Advice, Creative Writing, Life Experiences, Marriage, Men's Issues, Mental Health, Nature/Wildlife, Personal Experiences, Philosophical Genres, Poetry, Relationships, Sex, The Writer's Corner, Uncategorized
 they’re all nuts
and they wanna drive us nuts
and they do,
some of us lose it bad
some of lose it good. Continue reading with or without them
July 1, 2010
skinny guy,
plump girl,
riding on a two stroke dirt bike.
he’s scruffy
and she’s….well…I can’t tell
because he’s given her the better helmet.
full face.
they dart through traffic Continue reading Cycle of Love
July 1, 2010
no love story
“Looking out the window on a gray day, I see two pigeons on the ledge of the old house across the street. One pigeon seems to be pecking at the other pigeon which sits cuddled by its side. Perhaps the one pigeon is being dear to the other pigeon, and I wish someone would be dear to me. Suddenly, the one pigeon that was doing the pecking bobbles away to the other side of the ledge, and eventually flies away. Perhaps they misunderstood each other. I wish someone understood me.”
There was a knock on the door. Jimmy Burns was sitting at a small table by the window. Ants crawled along the floor. “Maybe they’ll share something,” he thought. Jimmy could see footsteps through the crack under the door. There was a second knock. Jimmy sat silently still, only moving to lift the cigarette to his mouth.
“I know you’re in there you bastard, open the door!” came the voice from outside.
Jimmy didn’t budge. He was unemployed. Down. Out. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. Whoever it was knocking knew that. There was a third knock. Continue reading no love story
June 13, 2010
We mostly have the same script about how childhood should be.
A baby enters as a warm bundle into a sometimes wet world. Especially in Britain, we know that that the sun doesn’t always shine. We are realists.
The growing child should be loved and cherished, and allowed to run free (and safely).
At a certain point, school, friendships and romance flow through to a young adult’s triumphal entry onto the world stage as a happy, balanced and generous human being ready to contribute fully towards society, not least by repeating this cycle.
Sometimes this happens.
Sometimes it doesn’t. Continue reading Suffer the children
June 9, 2010
Advice for living from my best friend.
The world is your couch. Relax.
Make friends and surround yourself with them.
Scratch when you itch.
There is no substitute for being cute.
Be loyal and your friends and they will never desert you.
There is no ailment that a good poop won’t help relieve.
Don’t piddle on the path. Continue reading The Tao of Amigo
May 7, 2010
Stephen Sangirardi The Monster Bard715@aol.com
Once upon a time there was a priest who had the best of intentions. While in the seminary, he devoted himself to God and practically memorized the Bible. He was going to transform the world into a model of Christianity, beginning with the parish he would one day shepherd. No vow was too difficult for the young man to grapple, especially the vow of chastity and purity, and not a night passed when the young novitiate did not pray like a thousand saints rolled into one.
The day of his graduation from the seminary came, and the priest was sent out into the world. His parish was a small community in upstate New York, where he would serve under the current pastor. It was understood that when the elder pastor died, the young priest would succeed him. For the first few years of his service, the young man of God zealously served his flock, energizing his sermons with a power that the congregation had never seen before. In addition to sermonizing, the priest counseled anyone who sought his advice and administered Holy Communion in the dead of winter, swirling snow and all, if an ailing person needed to receive the Eucharist at home. In this respect, the priest was like an old-fashioned doctor who made house calls. Word of the priest’s spirituality began to spread to other congregations, and in no time the priest had doubled the number of people who came weekly to his church. He had made proud the old pastor who once told a newspaper reporter that had he, an aging pastor, not chosen the celibate life, the young priest was the type of son he would have wished for.
After a few years, however, the price of repression, of sexual sacrifice, had begun to take its toll on the priest. He prayed endlessly to ward off the temptations that began to attack him and he made certain that he never looked at any woman in his parish for too long or spent too much time with any female in the confessional or the sacristy. He practically took to whipping his flesh, as the Reverend Dimmesdale resorted to in The Scarlet Letter after the Rev. had fornicated and produced a child with Hester Prynne. Sure enough, the priest overcame every urge to make the beast with two backs with a woman. Continue reading The Monster
April 29, 2010
This happened not quite 20 years ago. A Saturday afternoon that turned into a Sunday morning when the girls got on the roof of a friends apartment building and enjoyed each others company for hours. My husband called at 2am to see when I wanted to come. I could have told him never I was so happy to be in the company of women my age, all of the artists of some kind and all of them taking out these hours to just be one of the girls. There was no competition, no showing off, no mean words. We weren’t all friends when we went on the roof but when we left we were united as sisters because of one story that was told when we decided to discuss “the first time”. Continue reading Up on the Roof with the Girls
April 21, 2010
I sat next to my father in the counselor’s office at west mesa high school embarrassed and staring at my feet.
“This is Joe’s last chance Mr. Pahn-cee.” The counselor said, mispronouncing our last name as everyone had done our whole lives. I had been named after St. Joseph the Worker; patron saint of laborers who’s feast day it was on May 1st, the day I was born.,. When I got to the first grade, the nuns renamed me because we already had a Jose in class, Jose Hernandez. By virtue of the alphabet, I became Joe Ponce.
“Your son has failed his second year of algebra and is lacking full credits in English and Science because of unexcused absences. At this rate, he will not graduate with his class.” he continued. I could feel my father looking at me. “We believe that he is a good candidate for a new non-traditional program recently started at APS. That’s what Mr. Nuzzo is here to talk to you about.”
The counselor gestured toward the older man sitting in the corner of his traditionally spartan, traditionally institutional office. He looked a little like my father. Slightly graying hair combed back, black frame glasses and a simple collared shirt and slacks. A pen in his pocket, just like my dad.
“My name is Don Nuzzo,” he said extending his hand “from Freedom High. I’d like to talk to you, but first I’d like to ask your son something. Why do you want to come to Freedom High?”
“I’m not sure that I do.” I mumbled. My father made an angry noise. Continue reading Your Mother and Me
March 29, 2010
“What’s the deal with boobs?” she asked me quite frankly.
“What is it about them that men like so much?
“Well…” I replied, “They’re really quite nice.
They’re smooth and soft and lovely to touch.
Continue reading What’s the Deal?
March 22, 2010
Boss lady was all smiles now. She only smiled when she could smell money. And Anwasia knew she had a good nose for detecting currency.
“Mister. I can help you. What do you want to buy today?”
“Something special.” The man replied seriously, but Anwasia could detect the devilish gleam in his eyes.
“Everything here is special. ” Boss lady replied, rubbing her hands in glee. She could tell she would make a fantastic sale today.
“Not everything.” The man replied. He was suddenly all hauteur as he spoke and it was only then that Anwasia noticed that he had the arrogant look of the military officers that had oppressed the nation with frequent coup de tats, causing political instability and economic turmoil in the country.
“I want only the item on special sale. The one that is worth nothing more than a shilling.”
“Okay sir. What is it sir?” Boss-lady said, deep disappointment suddenly etching her face.
The next statement the man made left both women utterly stunned, leaving her numb, too frozen to move, as boss lady gasped in shock.
“This girl. Right here.” He replied without further ado. Continue reading When Love Came Calling ( Continuation)
March 4, 2010
She noticed him staring at her through the window. Uncomfortably, she shifted. First on one foot, then the other, as she dizzyingly became aware of his intense scrutiny. Boss lady was coming any time soon and if she found this stranger staring at her through her precious shop windows, she would throw a fit. Suddenly angry at the brazen look this man was giving her, she turned to give him a reproachful glance of her own and mouthed the words “Rude. Rude to stare.” The man only smiled in return, a self –assured grin that maddened her only more. She saw him shrug nonchalantly and before she could take her next breath, realized that he was coming into the shop…heading straight for her. She stiffened.
“Come over here.” She suddenly heard Boss-lady scream at her from somewhere in the midst of the stacked boxes that lay by the corner.
“Yes ma.” She replied with alacrity, her reverie broken by the commanding tone of her Boss.
“Why do you never listen, Anwasia?” the fat lady bellowed at her employee, her jowls shaking with violence, which really was her normal look any given day.
“Yes ma.” The other one replied questioningly.
Boss-lady hissed in derision. “I keep telling you not to stack these boxes here. But do you listen? No. You don’t listen. You must stand there, by the counter, dreaming away your life. Other girls your age are getting married, but for you, no. You are lost in your own world. You are a disgrace, I tell you. A huge disgrace.”
“Yes ma.” She replied unfeelingly. This was the order of the day: Boss lady telling her how she was nothing but a no-good.
“Carry them boxes over there, stupid girl.” Continue reading An African Love Story: When Love came calling (Part One)
March 2, 2010
“We are living in a time when it seems as if sex is used to sell everything. From laundry detergent to pancakes, from make-up to hair dye, sex sells. We are inundated with it.”
I was doing a seminar on Sex, Love, and Marriage. During a break a well-dressed, pretty but nervous woman came up to talk to me. She asked if I had ever encountered a person who was living in a celibate marriage.
“I don’t mean not having sex for long stretches of time because of certain problems that can be resolved. I mean never having sex, sleeping together in a bed but not being intimate for years.”
I nodded my head; I had heard about it. She was talking about a celibate marriage.
We see intimacy on daytime programming, loving couples in commercials, and nighttime shows filled with happy people either in the midst of, finishing, or seriously about to have, sexual relations. Sex sells because it is a part of our minds, our egos and our physical needs. Most people not only need it they want it. This is especially true in a marriage, where one of the great joys of being with the person you have chosen to spend your life with should be sexual intimacy. The harsh reality is of married sex is different from what we believe. 1 in 20 couples live their married lives in a marriage that lacks sex. Continue reading A Celibate Marriage: the pain and unhappiness in an era when sex sells
February 17, 2010
Posted by scottqmarcus in: Attitude, Children, Family, Habit Change, Health & Fitness, Inspiration & Motivation, Life Experiences, Mental Health, Motivation, Personal Experiences, Recovery, Relationships, Travel, Wellness
As I watched the drama, it dawned on me that this process of learning does not end when we move away from our parents. It is a sequence that presents itself continually: Frustration. Lesson. Acceptance. Progress. Repeat cycle as necessary until learned. [...]
February 14, 2010
Happiness Key: Love yourself
by Kristen Houghton
http://www.andthenillbehappy.com/happinessblogandkeys.htm
It is an unfortunate fact that too many of us are taught as children that self-love is akin to being selfish. It is not. Loving, nurturing, and nourishing yourself is practicing a healthy and practical habit. It isn’t selfish at all; it enhances you [...]
February 14, 2010
I gave no cards for Valentine’s Day Just hugs and kisses and lots of kind words. It reminds single people that they will wake up with a love in their life for days to come. It is a commercial holiday at the best but it can be a good time to show those who need it more love. Continue reading Today More Hugs and Kisses- for no reason
February 13, 2010
We will always have Victory when we share our love in Christ
My love, I will Always feel blessed with you in my life
When you are not with me, I get a feeling of Loneliness
Our love is real; I know it will last throughout Eternity
Now that I have you, no one on this earth can take me away
I am Totally committed to you, my darling love
I love you, sweetheart, from the depths of my heart
I will Never leave you; there is no reason for me to depart
Our love is Everlasting, I know it is God who put us together Continue reading A Valentine’s Day Poem
February 12, 2010
The Death of One Stephen Sangirardi Bard715@aol.com Every year at the Oscars, there is a segment commemorating the stars who have died in the past year. Their picture flashes on the giant Academy screen, cinematic music plays in the background, and people applaud in noticeably ascending degree of the deceased star’s importance. [...]
February 7, 2010
I am not the Manchurian Candidate
by Bob Grant
How can you embrace an enemy of the USA? More important – why would you? If these questions have not been outright asked of me – they have been implied. Why I chose to speak highly of China, and its people, is something that I [...]
January 29, 2010
Horny the Horse
by Bob Grant
Horny the Horse had it made in the shade,
Had his nose in the air and his tail in a braid.
Had a mare in his stall – the envy of many,
A beautiful mate with the short name of Jenny.
But Horny had eyes for the pastures [...]
January 26, 2010
The First of all Virtues – Part 1 by Lloyd Lofthouse
I read ‘any damn fool can be a parent‘ in an e-mail recently, and it made me think that North America is not a comfortable place to be if you become a geezer. Geezer is the endearing term our teenage daughter once called me–but not [...]
January 11, 2010
The Rainbow Man
by Bob Grant
Met the Rainbow Man the other day,
as I was passing on my way.
Was yellow, and red, and green, and blue
Indigo –violet – orange it’s true.
Was it was tough being colors a plenty?
No different for him than it is for many.
Didn’t matter what [...]
January 5, 2010
My father’s voice sounded so small saying, “Son, please come home.”
My father’s voice sounded so small on the other end of the phone.
He said, “Son, your mother is worried sick. She misses her little boy.
And she can’t understand what would take you so far away.
You’re not thinking with your head. You’re feeling with your heart.
And you’ve known this love is illusion right from the start.”
My father’s voice sounded so small saying, “Son, please come home.”
My father’s voice sounded so small on the other end of the phone. Continue reading My Father’s Voice
December 11, 2009
Posted by AngelaPoseyArnold in: Biography & Memoir, Education, Faith, Family, Freedom, History, Inspiration & Motivation, Life Experiences, Lifestyle, Non-Fiction, Personal Experiences, Relationships, Religion, Short Stories, Social Aspects, Social Issues, Spirituality, Women's Perspective
Christmas 1947-Alabama (Not so much unlike Christmas 2009–Alabama—same heart–same spirit)
By Angela Posey-Arnold
“What are you getting for Christmas this year, Jimmy? I think I’m getting a record player. I picked one out at Elmore’s.” Bonnie said to her friend and classmate at lunch.
Jimmy swallowed the last bite of apple, “A record player? That will be neat. I’m hoping to get the .22 Winchester I asked for. I need it for hunting. I think I will get it”.
“I can’t wait for the class Christmas party tomorrow. The best thing is being out of Haleyville Junior High School for the Christmas Holidays. Mother made some cookies for our eighth grade party. Oh, by the way, we want you to go with us to town this afternoon. And stay with us for the Tree Decorating Downtown tonight. Can you go if my Mom picks you up?” Jimmy asked. Continue reading Christmas 1947
December 9, 2009
Listen up all you would be philanderers and potential assassins of family virtues. I come to warn you about the sirens out to tempt and snare you. You think your status as celebrity will cover your sins as your bodyguards watch your back and your publicists protect your image. But trust me, these temptresses with long locks and longer legs are out to get everything they can for the time they spend in the dark with you. And when these long stemmed vixens come up smelling like roses you will come up smelling of the death of your career and probably life as you know it. Continue reading Advice for Would Be Cheating Men
November 22, 2009
My skin jitters. “Come on, babe. You have to keep breathing.” My eyelids flicker, but the beige walls are too bright. Breathing hurts. He squeezes my arm, shaking me. “Wake up, honey.” I groan. It would be so good to sleep. I can’t think for fear of unconsciousness. My eyes roll back in [...]
November 5, 2009
He stood over her and briefly stroked her long hair with the back of his hand. He remembered it as blonde and radiant for all of those years. It was now brilliant platinum silver, but it had lost none of its silkiness. She breathed steadily and he let his hand continue on to her cheek. The corner of her mouth twitched just a little in her slumber. He reached out with one ragged finger and ran the tip of it down the bridge of her nose searching for the tiny bump that had once been there. She had always hated it and had had it removed at the first opportunity, but he missed it so. With that brief touch, he had communicated a lifetime of love. He thought that he saw her smile.
The girls, her daughters, stood in the doorway of this warm and comfortable if sparsely furnished room and watched. They knew him, vaguely. He had been to their parent’s home a few times when they were very young and he had been at their father’s funeral. Then, he had waited until the long line of mourners that had come through offering condolences. He had gently led their mother off to a quiet corner of the church to speak privately with her. Their mother had hugged him for a long time after the conversation and the girls had put it down to the culmination of a long, stressful day of grief. They thought that he must have been a friend of their father’s, but now they understood it to be something more.
Continue reading Lunch Hour
October 31, 2009
Stephen Sangirardi The House of Gentile Bard715@aol.com
Dominic Gentile was the only child of Tony and Doreen Gentile. They lived in Westchester where Tony made a lot of money at IBM and Doreen made enough at Bloomingdale’s. Doreen was a sweet, passive woman, but Tony turned out to be a brutal father. He was a disappointed college football player who never made it to the pros, and so he decided very quickly that his son Dominic would fulfill his football dreams, like a vicarious vampire in the 1990s. Unfortunately, his son was not built like his father; he was more like Doreen. Dominic, alas, could simply not catch a football when Tony zipped it to him in their big Mahopac back yard. Time and again the ball would bounce off Dominic’s skinny chest, getting Tony angry and frustrated.
“Catch the goddamn ball, Dominic. Are you my son or aren’t you?” This went on for a few years, and the same thing would happen. The son tried the best he could to please his dad, but he had no athletic ability and eventually he would run crying into his mother’s skirt so she’d protect him from this monster of a father. Doreen was no match for her husband’s strength and will, as he pulled Dominic away from his mother and made him catch again…until Tony stormed into the house, cursing like a madman. These football sessions were a nightmare for Dominic and became his indelible scar.
As a result, Dominic grew up hating sports, hating his father, and unsure of his relationship with girls. He wasn’t gay, just confused. And Tony Gentile’s worst fear came to pass: his son had become a mama’s boy! Continue reading The House of Gentile
October 7, 2009
Posted by TimKellis in: Advice, Book Marketing Online, Book Review, Books, Communications, Current Events, Education, Family, General Topics, Health & Fitness, Inspiration & Motivation, Lifestyle, Marriage, Men's Issues, Mental Health, Motivation, Non-Fiction, Philosophical Genres, Relationships, Self-Help, Social Aspects, Social Issues, Spirituality, The Media, The Pundit's Corner, The Writer's Corner, Wellness
 Carl Jung Now here is another brain teaser for your therapist, or should I say mind teaser, the notion of curing someone with depression. Sadly, this is one of the most common causes of problems in marriages, and while we look for help from the professionals they take advantage of that vulnerability with a platform that doesn’t get to the root causes of depression. All the while, we spend about $12 billion a year on therapy and $15 billion on pharmacology drugs to treat “mental illnesses”, particularly depression.
I even find it hilarious that there is an ad on TV promoting a drug called Abilify that begins by stating that 2/3rds of people suffering from depression still have depression symptoms after taking traditional “medicine”, in essence admitting the inability of the medical approach to curing people. After all, our “mental illnesses” are biologically based, hence the medical approach to a “cure”, and there is really nothing that can be done mentally.
But there was a psychologist who actually did cure people, the one-time heir apparent to Freud by the name of Carl Jung. I refer to Jung as the greatest psychologist who ever lived basically because of the fact that his objective was to cure his patients.
Let me relate to you one of his patients whom he did cure, a patient suffering from depression. Ironically, the professionals of his day actually diagnosed her with Schizophrenia. Boy I can imagine the response from the professionals if I would have titled this post “Curing Schizophrenia”, because as most people realize after 100 years of propagating the biology conclusion, Schizophrenia is incurable. Continue reading Curing Depression
October 6, 2009
Years ago, I had been doing a study on the Beatitudes, attempting to memorize them and then apply them to my life. I was doing fairly well with the memorization part of it, but personalizing the scriptures and putting myself in them was not going quite as well. I tried to just keep it simple, but instead I’d find myself getting sidetracked into wondering, “When do I ever really mourn over my shortcomings?” or “I hunger and thirst plenty, but for righteousness or ice cream?” I got so caught up in being critical of myself and my perceived shortcomings that I could never seem to apply the verse to my life in a meaningful way. [...]
October 3, 2009
Posted by cmusico in: Advice, Attitude, Biography & Memoir, Economic Crisis, Economics, Faith, Family, Finance, Habit Change, Health & Fitness, Humor, Inspiration & Motivation, Journalism, Life Experiences, Motivation, Nutrition, Personal Experiences, Recovery, Relationships, Weight loss
This month marks a rather large milestone in my life — it’s the official one-year anniversary of my real-world independence. This time last year, I moved into my apartment in Jersey City. Sure, I stayed in the dorms at Seton Hall University, but I always went home for the summer. This was different, though. This time I was moving out for good.
In that time, we’ve seen a lot go on in the world around us. Our economy collapsed, the Mets collapsed (again), the Phillies actually won the World Series, the Steelers won another Super Bowl, we had our first black president, and about 3,000 celebrities passed away.
Personally, I’ve seen a lot happen as well. I’ve lost about 20 pounds, seen my job transform in good and bad ways, and learned a whole lot about how strong and resilient I can be when necessary. I’m a big believer that a lot of the events that happen in our lives do influence how we act with regard to our finances. Here are eight of the most important lessons that I’ve learned in the past year — and lived to tell you all:
- Family is important and will always be there for you. I could go on forever about how this is true, but the moment that really brought it home — quasi-literally — for me was when I thought everything was falling apart. My rent went up, I was forced to take more unpaid days off at work, and I wasn’t sure if I would be able to continue to live the life that I wanted. I really thought my money would run out. This was way off-base, but it took a phone call home one snowy night this past February to my mother to set me straight. She made me realize that all the money I was pooling should be used as tools for my goals, not just to sit idle. This epiphany moment helped me take a fresh look at my finances — and life. Continue reading A Look Back: One Year of Independence
October 2, 2009
An Expert Witness
By Angela Posey- Arnold
“I would like to stand up and say that I love the Lord.” The members of the congregation where I attend church usually start their testimony with those words. Then they begin by telling everyone what the Lord Jesus has done for them. The stories are their own and come straight from their hearts. I am always blessed by one sweet man that stands up, usually the first to stand when testimony time is announced. He has a speech impediment but he stands up straight and tall and with a massive amount of courage he shares his testimony. I have to admit I cannot understand some of his words but it doesn’t matter, the look of love on his face is enough to see the Lord shines though him. He is not afraid to stand up and say he loves the Lord.
My testimony begins before I was born. I came into this world blessed by God. He so graciously planned for me to be born into a family that loved Him. My family prayed for me before I was born. I am so thankful because when I was two weeks old God began to perform miracles in my life.
At two weeks of age, my Mother, an RN, noticed that my legs were uneven and my hips were uneven. They took me to the Doctor and I was diagnosed with Congenital Hip Dysplasia. In 1960 this was usually a diagnosis followed by a life time of a severe limp and uneven legs. My family was devastated to hear the Doctors say I would always limp and possibly not even be able to walk. Continue reading An Expert Witness
October 1, 2009
Posted by AngelaPoseyArnold in: Current Events, Faith, Family, Freedom, General Topics, Inspiration & Motivation, Military, Relationships, Religion, Social Issues, Spirituality
Shield of Faith
By Angela Posey-Arnold
“…….. hold up the shield of faith to stop the fiery arrows of the devil. Put on salvation as your helmet, and take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:16 NLT)
The war is on. The nation is attacked by a massive mighty power under the cover of darkness. The morning dawns and destruction meets every eye. The President declares war against the enemy and sends one soldier out alone to fight this battle and expecting him to win. No helmet, no gun, no bullet proof vest, no boots, nothing. Just dressed in duty camos he walks out alone into a barrage of bullets. Alone with no shield, no weapon, no superior officer to give him orders, no medics to save him when he is wounded and no Chaplain to pray for his dying soul.
Why would any President conceive in his mind that one lone man, defenseless, could possibly survive much less fight a mighty power unarmed? He wouldn’t if he wanted to win. Continue reading Shields Locked
September 20, 2009
It was in the late fall that I truly fell;
when the leaves were turning the
color of unfulfilled promises,
and the skies were mottled with
September 18, 2009
Posted by TimKellis in: Advice, Book Marketing Online, Books, Communications, Current Events, Education, Family, General Topics, Habit Change, Health & Fitness, Inspiration & Motivation, Life Experiences, Lifestyle, Marriage, Men's Issues, Mental Health, Non-Fiction, Personal Experiences, Philosophical Genres, Relationships, Self-Help, Social Issues, The Media, The Pundit's Corner, The Writer's Corner, Wellness, Women's Perspective
 Equality: The Quest for the Happy Marriage If you would like to get your therapist’s head spinning ask him or her what it means to be cured and watch as your therapist struggles to answer that question. The unfortunate reality is the psychology industry, with its biological foundation, has not yet defined what it means to be mentally cured. What makes this notion even more amazing, is the rest of us as a society knows the answer to this question, to be happy with yourself. To clarify, though, individual happiness has nothing to do with the level of wealth or looks, but is an internal quality where the individual finds balance in his or her perception of self against the backdrop of the rest of society.
I wanted to discuss one psychological problem to demonstrate my point, the notion of alcoholism. Modern medical definitions describe alcoholism as a diseaseand addiction which results in a persistent use of alcohol despite negative consequences. The Journal of the American Medical Association defines alcoholism as “a primary, chronic disease characterized by impaired control over drinking, preoccupation with the drug alcohol, use of alcohol despite adverse consequences, and distortions in thinking.” According to Wikipedia it is estimated that 9% of the general population is predisposed to alcoholism based on genetic factors.
In other words, alcoholism is defined as a biological disease defined by the genetic makeup of the individual. Alcoholics Anonymous’ basic text, known as the “Big Book,” describes alcoholism as an illness that involves a physical allergy and a mental obsession. And of course the mental obsession occurs because of the biological makeup of the brain. Because of this definition there is no attempt on the professionals part to “cure” the alcoholic. In fact, the 12-step program in AA basically teaches people that they have a disease and must give their lives up to God to manage their disease, despite the fact that the fourth step involves clarifying those experiences from the past that have caused the mental problems in the first place, in what is called the “moral inventory”. Continue reading Curing Alcoholism
September 17, 2009
What good is having a crush on someone? [...]
September 12, 2009
Posted by AngelaPoseyArnold in: Advice, Current Events, Economic Crisis, Family, Inspiration & Motivation, Lifestyle, Relationships, Religion, Self-Help, Short Stories, Social Issues, Spirituality
Fear, Fret and Faint
By Angela Posey-Arnold
Frank Parker is under attack, literally. Nothing in his twenty five years as a news reporter has prepared him for this. An all out fear assault explodes every morning as he arrives to the local radio station to report the news. He cannot find an escape as bad news pours in.
Financial crisis, government run-away spending, shootings, bombs, nuclear threats, violent protest, war with terrorist and a war on God all make the headlines. Frank remembers the day he gave up hope. The day the President proclaimed America to no longer be a Christian nation, Frank gave up. People everywhere calling bad good and good bad left Frank’s head twirling.
The pangs of fear started last Monday and by Thursday he overslept with his head covered up just so he didn’t have to hear anymore. Actually afraid of what he would going to hear next, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t talk, or eat, paralyzed by fear and hopelessness. Continue reading Fainting Over Fret and Fear
September 11, 2009
Decision Time–Steve Sangirardi
From 1971 to 1976 I was involved with my first girlfriend, Laura. For the inaugural year of our relationship–I was a high school senior and she was a sophomore–we saw each other every day, except one when she had to go to an aunt’s anniversary in New Jersey; to compensate for the separation, we spoke to each other on the phone three times. The rest of the year, though, we saw each other every day much to the chagrin of my friends who said I had become p-whipped. I didn’t really care what they said. I wanted to be with Laura all the time and so I treated her like a queen. She was my first girlfriend, and the first song we ever slow-danced to was Chicago’s “Color My World” at a high school mixer at what was then Bishop Reilly in Queens.
Soon, I can’t pinpoint when, maybe when I began going to college and she was a senior in high school, things got very sour. We were constantly arguing, engaging in the most adolescent mind-games, and our relationship turned into a pendulum—if we weren’t fooling around like lizards in the backseat of my ’68 Impala because we couldn’t afford a motel room, then we were bickering, accusing, impaling, and of course s wearing that we would never talk to each other again. Through these difficult times, I never cheated on her and I don’t think she cheated on me either, reinforcing the illusion of forever. Continue reading Decision Time
September 10, 2009
To be honest most mornings I want to throw my husband out of the window. He comes to bed late having spent the early hours on the computer with African and Asian companies, he snores like a train in need of engine work and he is retired. I wake and look over at him wanting to throttle him. Then I exercise or write (or both depending on how much sleep I go through as his bullhorn of a system snored and kept me up) and when I leave for work I smile and plant a kiss on his cheek. One kiss because. . . Continue reading One Kiss
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Today I honor my mother, Jacqueline Rochester, who passed away in her sleep 30 days ago. It has been a sad time, sadder than I anticipated: in theory, I’ve always believed that crossing over is a good thing, a new life, and we who remain earthbound should celebrate the dear departed’s new journey. [Yes, I believe in an everlasting life, but not the religious version.] However, for all our differences and squabbles over the years, I miss my mom.
Not All Factories in China are Sweat Shops
certainly 
clean. The employees (factory workers) wore uniforms at most places I visited. They seemed proficient in their work and the products produced, and for the most part, were without quality problems – certainly no different than products produced in other countries. Most of the factories tended to be in an Industrial Parks and quite large. Usually, the factories were a “small city” into themselves. There was housing provided for the employees on the factory grounds along with areas for recreation. I don’t suppose there was another way of doing it – but I saw a lot of laundry hanging from outside the housing units plus commercial apartments buildings I saw throughout China.
My mother died last night. She’d been suffering from deep depression and extreme anxiety, and was being treated in a Phoenix hospital that specializes in helping elderly people with behavioral disorders of this sort. She had a stroke, the second in two months, and this one broke her connection with life as we know it.
They All Look Alike
I Never met a Communist in China
Giving back through journalism
Giving back through journalism
by Tyree Harris
When people think of giving back to the community, they think sandwich lines, clean-up service, and financial charity.
Though all of these are great and important, there is no better way to give back to your community than with the very talents you are practicing for your career.
Give back with what you do best.
I spent my first week of summer at the Oregon State University campus being journalistically revived by 24 bright-eyed, teenaged writers. For the past three years, I’ve dedicated June 19th through the 27th to the High School Journalism Institute, a joint effort between the Oregonian and Oregon State to promote newsroom diversity. It is, without question, the most cultural journalistic experience possible in Oregon — students in the program are all from underrepresented backgrounds. Continue reading Giving back through journalism