Category: Life in General (Page 28 of 46)

The New Yorker Typo

December 12, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 29 Comments

Now I understand what they mean when a creative artist like a musician or novelist hits his “sophomore slump.” After the terribly exciting Holiday concert, I stepped into a minefield by talking about religion and politics. I immediately went searching for a new post idea that I could put up quickly, sending the last post one notch down (and we all know that no one, except the crackpots, ever reads anything other than the last post!)

As I perused The New Yorker in the bathroom (thank you, Leesa, for getting it for my birthday last year), my next post leaped at me like a horny tiger. On Page 65 of the October 29, 2007 issue was a cartoon with a caption that read “I have my mother’s vindictive nature and my father’s garnisheed wages.” Garnisheed? The New Yorker made a typo! They wrote “garnisheed” rather than “garnished!” The New Yorker, cultural icon! And I, Neil Kramer, found a typo. I couldn’t control my laughter. Where were their famous editors? I ran to my computer and wrote a hilarious “letter to the editor” where I basically blackmail them into letting me edit an entire issue dedicated to myself and the “Cult of Citizen of the Month.” While it was a humor piece, I was also half hoping that the New Yorker would Google themselves, discover what I found, and be so impressed, that they decide to actually dedicate an entire issue to my sexual exploits.

I decided to google “garnisheed” to see if anyone else might have spotted the typo before me. Instead, I discovered something else.

garÂ·nishÂ·ee (gÃ¤rn-sh)
n.
A third party who has been notified that money or property in his or her hands but belonging to a defendant has been seized by legal writ.
tr.v. garÂ·nishÂ·eed, garÂ·nishÂ·eeÂ·ing, garÂ·nishÂ·ees
1. To seize by garnishment: garnishee a debtor’s wages.
2. To serve with a garnishment: garnishee an employer.

WTF?! Garnisheed is an actual WORD?!

That’s it. I’m not blogging any more until this sophomore slump ends.

Becoming an Adult

November 14, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 54 Comments

I never rebelled against my parents, and that’s unhealthy. They were always there for me. I’m still a child in many ways. (sorry, Mom — not your fault) Now THAT’S unhealthy. It is frustrating to me. It is frustrating to Sophia. I need to be more of an adult.

This is what I talked about with Esther, my therapist, during therapy session #8. This was an important session. If you’ve been reading this blog for awhile, you know that I’m always talking masculinity and “male-ness,” as if this was an issue in my life because I didn’t watch football. Now, I’m thinking I was looking in the wrong place. Who the f**k cares? The question for me isn’t, “What should a MAN be like?” It should be, “What should an ADULT be like?”

During the session (still only 50 minutes!), I found myself feeling very emotional, partly out of shame and partly out of relief. I would have never verbalized these ideas on my own. My self-image is quite different. I’ve always thought of myself as too adult, even as a child — but I think I’ve been fooling myself. I think I was just afraid of doing things and testing myself, and interpreted this as “mature” and “adult.”

These are a couple of ways I can improve my adult mindset —

1) Keep to commitments.

2) Stop feeling the urge to please everyone.

3) Learn to accept adult reality.

These are not just issues for men, but men and women. These are difficult challenges, so I’m going to take baby steps by starting the process first in my blogging life.

1) Keep to commitments.

I have a commitment as a blogger. I enjoy blogging. It is creative. Part of this commitment is participating and reading your blogs. Lately, I’ve been distracted by dumb online applications like Facebook, just because “everyone else is doing it.” There are only so many hours in a day. Wouldn’t you rather I read your blog than play scrabble or snog you with some second rate add-on?

I’m dumping Facebook by the end of the week.

2) Stop feeling the urge to please everyone.

I’ve always hated blogrolls that only list the same ten Dooce-level bloggers. These are the same people who needed to have a designer’s name on the back of their jeans in high school. I love the fact that I add a new blogger to my “blog crushes” every single day. Unfortunately, the list is approaching 300 names. I can’t keep up with everyone. Why try? Why feel guilty? An adult doesn’t need to please everyone all the time.

This week, I’m deleting EVERYONE from the list, and starting from scratch. Look at the positive side — this will give you a another chance to be my blog crush! If I didn’t put you on, don’t take it personally. Emailing me and kissing up always helps.

3) Learn to accept adult reality.

I’m going to be honest. I think I am cooler than most of you. Why? Because I don’t have advertising on my blog. That’s right. Suck it up. This might seem like a dumb blog to you, but I still view myself like a sophomore in college wearing all black who deems himself an “artist” and will never sell his art to the highest bidder. Of course, this attitude is disastrous in real life. Why do I still idolize someone like Van Gogh, living in a seedy rat-infested flat, slowing going insane, and cutting off my ear? Of course, Sophia will laugh because I am afraid of ants, but this a romantic image — not reality. It is a childish image. Immature. It’s OK to have my Penis talk on my blog, but I cringe at the thought of him hawking Starbucks new “Holiday Latte.”

I’ve refused some jobs because of this attitude. Now can you see another reason Sophia wants to kick me out?

Several of you have tried to hook me up with blogads and blogher, but I always seem to “forget” to do it. Sophia wonders what’s so wrong with making two hundred or so bucks by selling ads. Only a child (or someone very rich) says no to money!

This is not one of those “Woe is me. I’m going to add advertising” posts. I should so it — not only for the money, but because it is the adult thing to do.

P.S. — I’m going to need a “Therapy” category soon, won’t I?

Cuddle

November 14, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 16 Comments

This is going to be one of those weird posts where I am going to reveal something about myself by showing you my original post that I deleted, and then explain why I deleted it.

Original post, 6AM:

I know most women just want their man ready and willing 24 hours a day, but sometimes even we arenâ€™t in the mood. Normally, I like to get down and dirty with you and reveal all, but I had a really good therapy session yesterday, and itâ€™s still simmering in my brain, like a pot of stew. Would it be OK if we just cuddle today?

Note from Neil, 6:06AM:

After pressing the publish button, I quickly unpublished it. Why? Do you really want the honest answer? Because I want you to think that I am ready and willing 24 hours a day. Isn’t that a man’s job?

Therapist’s Inner Voice, 6:10AM

Why do you feel the urge to talk about cuddling? Do you feel the need to reveal weakness?

Neil’s Talking Penis, 6:12AM

Stop being a wimp and proving that you are non-threatening. You saw her on Flickr. If Ms. Blogger XXXX didn’t live east of XXXX, you wouldn’t mind f***ing her on the table right now.

Therapist’s Inner Voice, 6:14AM

Why did you feel the urge to write that? They know you have a c**k. You don’t need to remind them.

Note from Neil, 6:20AM

I really just wanted to cuddle until I was ready to talk about therapy.

Neil’s Talking Penis, 6:21AM

There’s only one therapy that will take care of that.

Therapist’s Inner Voice, 6:223AM

You don’t have to make jokes all the time.

Note from Neil, 6:25AM

I wasn’t.

Race and Ethnicity

November 7, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 48 Comments

I grew up in Queens, New York, which just happens to be the most diverse place in the country. When we talked about each other as kids, we were always very race and ethnic conscious. I don’t mean racist, but aware of people having ethnic identities. I don’t even see this as a negative thing. Who wants everyone the same? A person’s race and identity was just an identifier, like their height or weight. I might say, “Remember Bob, the tall black guy from the party,” just like I would say, “Remember Ellen, the pretty red-head from the party.” We would even go further than just race. He could be the Puerto Rican-guy or the Italian Guy. We would separate Jews as being religious “frum” or not, or Israeli, or Persian.

Things changed in college, when I became aware that this type of identification seemed blue-collar in tone. Even when people still identified as Asian or Black, it seemed wrong to identify someone as such, at least in public. In private, between friends, one could be as racist as the next guy, but everyone feared being seen as a blue collar type from Queens.

College Friend: “Did you meet Dan yesterday?”

Neil: “Which was Dan?”

College Friend: “The history major. He was wearing the green sweater. From Maryland. With glasses. Bald.”

Neil: “Oh, you mean the black guy?”

College Friend: “Ugh, don’t say that!”

I found this attitude a little odd, as if acknowledging his color was akin to acknowledging some sort of weakness in his personality. What was the big deal? On the other hand, I guess I can understand the sensitivity. At Columbia, Dan might be the only black guy at the party, and I’m sure he would hate always being known as the “black guy” throughout college. The rules change when the amount of diversity changes.

I’ve never truly resolved this issue for myself. I’m pretty open to all types of folk here on Citizen of the Month, even though I’ve gotten in trouble a few times for some gay joke or stating that Portland only had one black resident. I don’t think of you as black or white, Jewish or gentile, although I have to admit that it is exciting to me when a reader is different in some unique way. The blogosphere can be so bland, that it is cool to interact with someone a little different. I’ve written about this several times already. I’m still waiting for my first Native American blogger friend! The question is — can someone be identified as different, and still thought of as the same as everyone else? Am I Neilochka the blogger or Neilochka the Jewish blogger? Or can I be both? I’ve already spoken to a few of you that took a while before coming out as “black” or “ethnic” because you felt that other bloggers would perceive you differently.

I think about these ethnicity issues while I’m writing. Recently, I was writing a post while sitting in Starbucks about this guy sitting next to me, a brainy-looking grad student, who kept on trying to read my monitor. He was Asian (another loaded issue — I sometimes find it difficult to tell if someone is Chinese, Korean, or Japanese) and when I was writing the story, I started to describe him as “this Asian guy.” Then I censored myself. I thought to myself, “People will wonder why I him making him “the Asian guy.”” Am I trying to make a statement about Asians? Is there some other meaning for making him Asian? In truth, the only reality was that — he was Asian! Still, did it add anything to the story that was unintended? If you read something you wrote where a “Jewish guy” was looking over your shoulder, wouldn’t I have the same concerns?

On of my new blog friends from Los Angeles, Los Angelista, also writes on a cool website called Anti-Racist Parent — for parents committed to raising children with an anti-racist outlook. It brings up some important issues for parents. The site was “my muse” for this post. You should also check out Los Angelista’s terrific blog, too.

Sunday Brunch

November 6, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 42 Comments

Sunday was Hilly’s birthday. We met Hilly and SJ for Sunday Brunch.

Here Sophia is teaching Hilly how they drink mimosas in Europe, Bruderschaft style. (photo by SJ)

SJ and I in a competitive smiling match. (photo by Sophia)

Hilly and Sophia after two mimosas. (photo SJ)

More mimosas. (photo by SJ)

After one mimosa, I became a little dizzy as I fantasized about being with three women at once. (photo by Sophia)

It never happened the way I had hoped — but I did bring all three women back to the house. Most of the action came from SJ, who decided to take photos of our living room. Here are a couple of her photos. I figured I might as well show you where Sophia and I do it every day — and by “do it every day” I mean watch “All My Children.” (photos by SJ)

Hilly, may this year be your best!

I’m OK, You’re Nuts

November 5, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 23 Comments

Thank you so much for all the comments yesterday. By revealing some of your neuroses, you made me feel a lot more normal. Perhaps that is the best therapy of all. If we can be as understanding and caring to OURSELVES as we can be to others, I think a lot of our problems would disappear! When I hear about the foibles of others, I always tell them to get over their embarrassment. It is all in their head! No one really cares! However, if I make the same “mistake,” it is as the whole world is watching.

The comment that inspired me the most yesterday came from new reader, TC.

You know what kills me about people like you and me? That we actually think weâ€™re UNIQUE. Or that, if people heard about our little â€˜quirks,â€™ theyâ€™d think that weâ€™re insane.

Instead, of course, they do what I did when you talked about your coupon thingâ€¦they go â€œOh, man, *I* do that!â€ Except not with couponsâ€¦For me, itâ€™s calling in an order for take-out. I somehow have it in my mind that Iâ€™m going to â€œbotherâ€ the person on the other end of the phone by, you know, asking him to make food for me to pick up (or, worse, to have DELIVERED to me). When, of course, every logical cell in my body and everyone elseâ€™s says, THAT IS HOW HE MAKES HIS MONEY. He COUNTS on people calling in orders. And yet, I canâ€™t do it. Seriously. Canâ€™t.

Ainâ€™t insanity great?

How insightful! My first thought: “This women is nuts! I wanted to speak to her like Mr. Spock “Your fear makes no logical sense.” ” I felt like sitting her down, tying her to a chair, and not letting her up until she “understood” why she was being illogical. “Why would it bother the restaurant if you called for take-out?”

But this was the point TC was making.Â In therapy, the therapist sits there, never talking about herself. I’m not too fond of the student/wise Yoda relationship.Â I think I would overcome my “coupon” fears a lot faster if the therapist just came out and said, “Holy crap!Â That is nuts.Â But not as f***ing crazy as my fear of calling restaurants asking for take-out!Â We’re all crazy.Â It’s hopeless.Â Let’s just take some Prozac and go out for some burgers.Â You still have forty minutes on the clock.”

Self-Help Books

November 3, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 28 Comments

Today, Sophia and I sat in Borders for half the day, reading self-help books. I was determined to find a book that described me and my “problems” in psychological terms. After my two months of therapy, I’m fully convinced I need this help, and I want to understand myself better. I almost feel as if I’ve been blind to parts of my own personality. I am neurotic, but just saying “neurotic” is too vague for me. I want a stronger sense of the problem. I’m envious of you bloggers who have something specific, like ADHD. That is a “sturdy” psychological problem. If I met you for the first time, I could shake your hand and you could look me in the eye and say, “My name is Jack and I have ADHD.” It’s just not the same to answer, “Hi, I’m Neil. I’m neurotic, but I’m not exactly sure what that means or what exactly I’m neurotic about.”

The first book I read at Borders was on procrastination. I certainly procrastinate on my writing, but not with everything. Other times, I am very much on the ball. (Editor’s note: I’d like to see that ball — Sophia) I can’t honestly say that I’m NOT a pure-blooded procrastinator. (Editor’s note: I can.)

I was excited about finding a book on anxiety, especially one that screamed “Millions sold” on the cover. Anxiety is nothing new to me. I HATE making cold calls. I freeze in fear. That is anxiety. In my single days, I could never get enough nerve to talk to women in bars. I was too anxious.

The trouble is that “anxiety” is a term too broad for my taste. I don’t feel anxiety in typical social situations. I love to speak in public. I would have no problem running naked in the woods. I’ve met many who are plenty more anxious than me. Maybe I’m not really “anxious.” (Editor’s note: Yes, you are.)

The book that affected me the most was one about self-esteem. There was much in the book that made sense in the way it related to me– from the way I speak about my own accomplishments to my inability to say “no” to someone — fearing that they wouldn’t like me.

After our visit to Borders, we went to a Bistro-type restaurant for a late brunch. I brought along a 2-1 coupon that I had found in the mail. As some long-time readers of this blog know, giving coupons to waiters is one of these events that makes me ANXIOUS. I need to talk to my therapist about this. I know this makes little sense to you, but it almost feels as if I’m asking the waiter for a favor and imposing on him. I know, it sounds crazy, especially since I always leave a good tip on the full check amount.

As the waiter came over to our table, Sophia nudged me to give him the coupon before we order, as it is stated to do.

“Excuse me, ” I said to the waiter, as I fumbled with the folded coupon. “I have this thing… some sort of a certificate… um… but I’m not even sure if you even take it on weekends…uh?” (Editor’s note: On the coupon, it said, “Use any day.”)

“Oh yeah”, the waiter said, matter-of-factly. “Great. I’ll take it.”

And that was that. Sophia looked at me, laughing at how the episode made me into an incoherent wreck.

I thought to myself, “Think about what you just said to the waiter, and WHY — and you’ll understand YOURSELF a lot more than reading self-help books.”

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: Make Me Insecure Friday

Celebrating Ten Years of Being Free from Shoe Trends

November 3, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 35 Comments

Today is a special day for me.Â I am cleaning out my closet and tossing away these old Doc Martens that I bought in 1997.Â Why is this important?Â These were the last pair of shoes that I bought solely because they were “trendy” at the time.Â Â Since then, I have bought shoes for no other reason than they appealed to me, whether they were found at Nordstrom or Payless.

Back then, theseÂ Doc Martens were all the rage in Los Angeles.Â The shoes were uncomfortable.Â They were ugly.Â Â I wore them because they were cool at the time, even though I was probably already too late to be part of the “grunge” scene.

Throughout most of my life, I wore shoes to please others — to fit in — to be one of the crowd.Â For ten years now, I have steered away from any shoe trends, building enough nerve to make this final step — throwing away these old Doc Martens!

I know many of you are parents of teenagers.Â I feel for you, as I’m sure the importance of what brand of “sneaker” your child wears is still as important to him today as it was in the past.

Here is my life in “be like others” footwear, up until 1997, when I went into footwear rehab and started freeing myself from the tyranny of the shoed majority.Â My must-haves begin at an early age — first grade —

Â
PF Flyers “Center”

Keds

Converse All-Stars

Hush Puppies “Surround”

Adidas “Country”

Puma Clyde Basket

Bass “Yuppie” Penny Loafers (80s!)

Reebok “Classic” Black

Nike Air Jordan

New Balance 801

Doc Martens

Today, I’m wearing sandals I bought at CVS pharmacy.

Little Artie

November 2, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 25 Comments

Therapy has had twoÂ opposite effects.Â Â It has motivated me to be more productive and organized, hence my post two days ago on how to be better organized.Â Thank you!Â Â Â Therapy has alsoÂ made me incredibly self-absorbed, which is perfect for procrastination.Â Â I never knew I could be so interesting to myself!Â Â So, rather than working today, I spent most ofÂ the dayÂ mulling my own existence.Â Â

First, let me ask you something.Â I don’t know about your therapist, but my one hour session is really fifty minutes, because “Barbara” needs ten minutes to write her notes.Â Â Does your therapistÂ do the same?Â I likeÂ Barbara a lot, butÂ this business practice sounds a bit like the plumber charging you labor costs for his time fillingÂ out theÂ paperwork.Â Â Â Maybe I’m just grumpy because fifty minutes is not enough for me.Â I’ve even started to skip the pleasantries of talking about the weather for a couple of minutes because I can feel the clock ticking.Â Â When I walk out of therapy after such short sessions, I feelÂ unfulfilled, as if I just went to a beautiful, naked Thai masseuse who rubbed by entire body in sensual oil, then told me to “get the hell out” so she could watch “Oprah.”Â After my session today, I was in such a crazed mood to talk… to talk about myself.Â Unfortunately, for many of you on my email list, there is the little invention called IM.Â Please accept my apologies — all twenty of you — who I IMed with today while you were in the office.Â At first, I was polite, meekly saying, “Hi there! How are you?” and then when you answered, I knew I had you trapped.Â

“So, I just got back from therapy and it was very interesting.Â I’m beginning to realize that I…. and that I… and… is the best for me… and… more sex… more for me… what I want… me…me…me…oh, right, your grandmother is dying… I remember when my grandmother was dying… me… me… and I was fourteen… and there I was, with my penis… me… aren’t I interesting?Â Â What?Â You have a job? … when I grow up, I want to be…”

I use Trillian for my IM messages, because the application canÂ work on Gmail, Yahoo, MSN, and AOL simultaneously, so I had the entire world covered today.Â Is it my imagination — or is everyoneÂ on my IM list “invisible” tonight?Â Â Oh, well, maybe everyone is just watching TV.Â Â I can’t imagine that you would “hide” from me.

Barbara is a traditional therapist and she believes in all that crap about everything stemming from your childhood.Â Â OK, I shouldn’t say “crap.”Â I actually believe it too, but I am using humor as a “defense mechanism.”Â How do you like them apples?Â Defense-mechanism!Â Â Don’t I sound self-actualized?Â I know my stuff!Â

When I look through my blog, I see themes that are played over and over.Â Â I don’t mean that I use the same stories over and over again.Â I do that, too, hoping most of the readers from 2005 have disappeared by now.Â I mean that many of my posts have a certain world view that relates to my own neuroses.Â One of them has to do with gender issues in my marriage.Â Â Â Over and over, we’ve seen thatÂ Sophia is outwardly the strong one, while I sit at home, listening to ABBA.Â Â Who wants a wimpy husband?Â Gender rolesÂ affect ourÂ home, our family, and our relationship.Â Â

Since these issues didn’t play much of a role in my life untilÂ I married Sophia, IÂ saw it asÂ a “marital” problem, butÂ Barbara is helping me realize that you can’t really fix a couple; you can only fix yourself.Â Â The seeds of my behavior were planted in me way before I had met Sophia.Â I learned about gender roles and marriage from my own parents.Â My confusion over a “man’s role” in society were already bouncing around my head as a child, my brain crowded with images of Clint Eastwood and James Bond battling it out with sweater-wearing Bill Cosby.

When I was at USC Film School, my final thesis film was a broad comedy called “Little Artie.”Â It was just a little funny film,Â but when I mentioned the plot-line to Barbara, she was surprised thatÂ the story foreshadowed my relationship with Sophia — and I hadn’t even met her yet.Â Â It feels pretentious analyzing my “work” as if I am Ingmar Bergman, but I’m surprised how unaware I was of the similarities.Â

Is this how little I know myself?

Little Artie:

Artie and Elaine are a married couple.Â They have a little dog named Little Artie,Â and they treat himÂ asÂ their child, like many pet-owners do when they don’t have children.

Note:Â While it seemed funny at the time, it now seems a bit odd that I named the two characters, Artie and Elaine, since my parents’ REALÂ names are… Artie and Elaine!Â And who would be Little Artie then?

In the story, Artie works as a curator at an art gallery.Â He is peace-loving , cultured “liberal.”Â Â Elaine is training to be a black belt in karate.Â She is more conservative and believes in self-defense, and is more aggressive in the bedroom.Â Â They get along great, except for differing opinions on how to “raise” their dog, Little Artie.Â Â Artie wants him to be a loving pet, while Elaine wants him to be stronger, able to take care of theÂ family if there is danger.Â Â Later, while they are at work, their home is burglarized and the dog stands there watching all the furniture disappear.Â When they come home and see their empty home, Artie and Elaine have a big fight.Â Elaine insists thatÂ Little ArtieÂ go to “guard dog school” to get him into shape, while Artie refuses to allow this.Â The argument gets intense and they file for divorce.Â The question remains — who gets the dog?Â At this point, the dogÂ runs into theÂ dog house in the backyard and refuses to come out for either of them.Â Â The couple goes to court and theÂ judge rules thatÂ whoeverÂ can get him out of the doghouse first can keep him.Â And then there is some crazy comedy!Â Well, except for the parts that fell flat.Â There’s some new “lovers,” and a karate fight finale (I used a real fight coordinator) between Artie’s two rival women at an art gallery opening.Â Â At the end, Artie and Elaine learn to compromise — Little Artie needs to be both strong AND sensitive.

Anyway, that’s therapy — week seven.
Â

Be the Felix to my Oscar

October 31, 2007 / Neil Kramer / 43 Comments

Is there anyone out there who is excellent at managing their life? Do you effectively juggle work, family, romance, blogging, hobbies, writing, friends, and keeping up with “Dancing with the Stars?”

I need to talk with you.

How do you do it? Do you use any tools to keep yourself organized? Do you keep all your tasks on an online manager? Do you actually FOLLOW it? Have you ever tried working at home — and were actually productive? Why is cleaning the house such a drag? Do people with cleaning women have happier lives? Have you ever missed appointments to your therapist? Should I just drop Facebook completely since it is a time-killer? Have you ever been forced to masturbate using a timer because it wasn’t “slotted” into your daily schedule on Outlook?

I’m serious. I’m somewhat of an organizational mess. I know it looks like I’m a “together” type of guy because I blog frequently, but it is all a facade. I’m embarrassed to show you what my desk looks like. (Sadly, Sophia is not much better as an organizer. We stare at mounds of laundry together for entertainment at night)

My therapist is terrific, but so far, she is only good for helping me “understand” myself. When I asked her how I’m supposed to “change” just through understanding, she said that therapy isn’t supposed to be quick. She said that if I really wanted a quick-fix, I should turn to the internet instead.

So, that’s what I am doing.

Can someone be the Felix Unger to my Oscar Madison, and tell me how you keep your life organized and productive?

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month: I Sing, I Dance, But Dooce is Still Funnier