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Within the last week I’ve seen two movies (Secretary and Thirteen) that feature girls with the “cutting” obssessive-compulsive behavior (self-mutilation).
What a horrible, horrible (day I say again, “horrible”) affliction. I’ve been reading up on it and it’s so foreign, incomprehensible, and strange. At least bulemia or anorexia or agoraphobia all have a place where I can understand where the afflicted is coming from…this, no, no point of reference. There be no maps of those territiories.
I also heard that Garbage chanteuse Shirley Manson was a sufferer as well - simply beyond me.
Ex-girlfriend and reportatrix EC Barnett and I discussed it and I was counting her double X chromosomes to fill me in and explain the female psychology behind this (for it arises far more often in women than men) and she was likewise stymied.
:: shrugs ::
In the parlance of Internet Relay Chat:
/me Addendum: I realize I used the word “horrid” to describe the sickness. When I say horrid I mean it’s something that’s shocking and terrible and foreign. By all means if, for some reason, you are afflicted with this sickness, and you are searching on the web for help and for some cosmic reason came to this site, please, please get help.
Note, Self-Abuse is not the Catholic euphemism
S.A.F.E (Self-Abuse Finally Ends) http://www.selfinjury.com/ Alternative Information Line 1-800-DONT-CUT Provides information on dealing with self-abuse and self-mutilation and treatment options.
I have always been very interested in going to the holy land. Regrettably, the political situation in the world does not make it very easy for an American to be in that part of the world with a whole lot of comfort.
In particular, two fine Sydneysiders have made me think of it again.
A few years back when I was taking French at Texas I went to a welcoming committe gathering for foreign students coming to the US. I remembered what it was like to be a foreigner in Holland at a school and was very thankful that so many great Dutch people went out of their way to help me feel welcome. I figured I should return the favour.
While there I met many interesting people but one was a young man from Lebanon. A girl in my Finance class was talking to him and I was enjoying their conversation quite a lot (she was half Lebanese). As they talked it dawned on me that Lebanon was not this hellhole that I had always seen on the news growing up (bombs, rocks throwing, intifadeh, Hezbollah). The gentleman said something I’ll never forget. In a factual and yet wistful tone he said:
“Beirut, it was the Paris of the Middle East.
Having just been to Paris for the first time but a few short months previous to that discussion I was stunned. The math and architects lined up, the French imperial influence in northern Africa matched up…could it have been?
At the crossroads between Africa, the Holy Land, and the Mediterranean lies the fragrant cedar finger of Lebanon, stroking the western cheek of the Mediterranean, that sea that carried a thousand ships, bore a thousand civilizations, and quickened my own culture.
[ I suggest that if you have a laptop you keep a copy of the CIA World Fact Book on your HD, you will always learn something if stuck in an airport, ditto some Shakespeare, a greek epic or two ]
But it has been a great long while since I thought about this mysterious place - until I made the acquaintance of one of the excellent servers in the hotel. He is an absolute gentleman and, I daresay, his gift in this capacity is what makes it such a pleasure to be a patron within his cafe. He is polite, tactful, generous, and a very good conversationalist. I have been asking him to tell me about Lebanon and he has entertained my requests good-naturedly.
Today, I want over to the hair salon in the David Jones and I had the pleasure of meeting another Lebanese gentleman who, in addition to giving me a good haircut, was proud to tell me about his growing up in Beirut.
I related to him my dreams of visiting some day and he said that should things ever settle in Palestine between Israel and the Palestinians Beirut will stand to benefit as it is poised for a social rebound.
I should like to see Baghdad before I grow too old - I hope to see Beirut before then.
Learning how to watch Cricket:
Ravin, Mr. cannot-X-for-toffees himself gave me, with a great deal of effort, a lesson in how to watch and be entertained by cricket. Once you understand how the game is played it’s really actually moderately entertaining. I do have to say that running back and forth lacks a certain visible achievement like a good run around the bases, but nonetheless it’s fairly exciting.
I have yet to see a player taken out by tagging the wicket though…
Australian versus American body image
Well, dig this, Australians are much better adapted vis-a-vis body image (well, this should not be a surprise given that Americans are the absolute worst). I have noted that girls who are curv-ed and not rail thin are quite pleased to show what they’ve got.
Now hang on, I’m not just saying that some choose to visit the beach sans-top (really, such a non-issue).
I am actually saying something quite different, that were a girl some few body-fat percentage points of XXX-tina Aguilera (who, by the way, can actually sing when she’s not doing that stupid Mariah Carey vocal acrobatics for no real apparent reason: Go Frank Lloyd Wright Chrissy), she would not sit at home doing Pole-Dance aerobics wishing she could tolerate being seen in a two-piece with her slender best friend - nay she’d just go out and have a good time … and know that she’d fill out the evening gown in a much more classic fashion.
Now, on the flip side, the aforementioned curvy girl is not to be confused with the overweight which, thanks to the American invasion of McDonalds (Mackers) and Burger King is now helping force a rapid increase in the obesity-related illnesses (can you imagine the stress this is causing on a country that actually assures its citizens health care?). Rather, this is that majority of the population that does not fit into the legendary size 6.
In sum, being comfortable with what you can’t change is good and Australian society seems to embrace this. Being depressed over what you cannot change is futile and you should accept - American society seems to reject this. The whole overriding dictum is that “If it is in your power, you should probably do something to remedy.”
In sum, happiness does not seem to be exclusively reserved for the thin and beautiful here. It’s hard for me to sort out given my years of acculturation to believe the previous statement.
Work
I’ve heard a lot about work over the years but here is the one place that I have ever been where people follow the CitiBank billboard slogan: Work to Live, Don’t Live to Work.