Governing our poor choices

Freedom is really important to Americans.

“Land of the Free“, “Freedom of Speech”, “Freedom of Religion”, “Live Free or Die”, “Let Freedom Ring!”, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty! Free at Last!”, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe Free.”

I want you to guess the name of this tower.

I want you to guess the name of this tower we built to replace the WTC.

The Unofficial Motto of the United States: Freedom: We FUCKING LOVE IT!!

And in NYC it seems to many citizens that Freedom is under attack. Evil, vicious, fascist, neo-Nazi attack… because the mayor is taking away Soda!

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Making your bed and other reasons to be lame…

The insistence of parents that young children should extricate themselves from a jumble of pillows, sheets and blankies (yeah, I said “blankies”… like a boss) and then immediately turn that mess into an aesthetically pleasing picture of old-timey bedding perfection has always seemed to me the greatest injustice in parent-kid relations since the dawn of time. Perhaps the dawn of beds. Because I know and you know and they know and the imaginary monster under that messy bed know that the bed-making charade if futile because the bed is just going to get messy again.

Also the monster under the bed is Howie Mandel, so you'll never sleep again either

Also the monster under the bed is Howie Mandel, so you’ll never sleep again either

What is this injustice!? What is this stupidity? Room cleaning likewise ground my gears as a child. I was not showing my room to the public at large. It was my solitary space used for the accumulation of dirty clothes, very pointy toys and a varied amount of lost foods and deadly fungi. What should messiness matter?

Well here is goes: Making your bed makes you better at life.

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An Ode to My Journal

A New Habit

On December 29th, 2012 at 1:24pm while sitting at New York Theater Workshop I started a journal. The reason I know that so specifically is because I wrote it in the damn journal.

I didn't say it was an INTERESTING journal

I didn’t say it was an INTERESTING journal

I have written in it every day for the two months since I started it and let me say this: I love journals. I’m hooked. I have seven more pages to fill in the Barnes and Noble leather-bound I bought. And I have a blank one ready to pick up the slack once this one reaches capacity. I hope to keep a journal of some sort until I lack hands, toes, noses or nubs with which to continue writing it.

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Controlling Your Lizard Brain

I just finished an excellent book. Yes this, my second blog entry, starts as a tiny book review. Please don’t stop reading though. If you get past the book review I will reward you by a rousing discussion on bodily functions (poop – there will be poop jokes). Ok? Ok. You’re excited. Just… just be excited.

The book is called The Power of Habit by Charles Duhigg.

I imagine the book looks like this, but I read it on my tablet because I live in 2013

I imagine the book looks like this, but I read it on my tablet because I live in 2013

According to some researchers about 40% of the things you do during a day aren’t conscious thoughts. They’re habits. Your brain running on autopilot. And not even your big human brain. Your lizard brain. See, evolution is very very lazy. So when it decided that it wanted to make a smarter species, it didn’t just build a whole new brain from scratch. Instead, it wrapped shiny new parts of brain around the old shitty parts. Over and over. Our most recent operating system is the cortex. The cortex is pretty awesome. Logical thought? Cortex. Art? Cortex. Civilization? Cortex.

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The Beginning of Something Begun

I had intended to begin this entry (and this blog) with an inspirational quote of some kind. Something wise or insightful, beautiful or tragic; something to fully embody the magic of self-transformation and the unconquerable spirit of man. But that would be cheating. That would be adorning the clothes of betterment before betterment…ing. So instead we’ll just start where I unfavorably started. With me.



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