I have to keep the eye on the prize, which is to express myself honestly and openly on my blog, have fun, and not take it too seriously.   I need to be grateful for all the cool people who stop by this blog, and treat everyone as worthy individuals with an innate need to express their ideas and personality.   I need to not take people for granted.   I need to comment and read your blogs as consistently as you do mine.   I need to accept the fact that I have lost touch with some bloggers, and it is OK to feel a little sad about it.  I need to be open about all blogging opportunities that I hear about, so they can be available to as many as possible.  I shouldn’t be afraid of thinking of this blog as the best blog in the world simply because I write it, just as your blog should be YOUR best blog in the world, and I should acknowledge that when I come to visit.   I need to respect other writers for the quality of their work and the openness of their spirit, whether they are writing exquisite poetry or stupid gags, both which have an important role to play in society.   I need to remember that a good blog doesn’t necessarily make them a caring person, and that an amazing individual might not be able to put down in words everything that is in his or her heart.  I need to acknowledge that the blogosphere can be as cliquish as high school, and that I should accept it, ignore it, and mock it for comic effect.   I hope that I will be made fun of by others when I am hypocritical.  I need to be wary of marketers or all types, those trying to sell me products and ideas that are more for their benefit than my own, even if there is a short-lived profit for me or my blog.   I should always weigh the benefits to myself with the effects on others.  I need to remember that modern man has ADD, and will constantly be talking about “what’s new” and “what’s hot,” forgetting that telling stories and chatting about nothing has been going on since we lived in caves, way  before the arrival of Twitter and Facebook.   I need to dig deeper than the surface and understand that despite all the talk about “branding” and “linking” and “A-listers,” the blogosphere is mostly about imperfect humans looking for affection, love, and connection in a somewhat lonely and isolating world.

Last Tuesday, my writing partner, Ron, and I were working effectively on our film story — and I was staying at his place — so I cancelled my therapy appointment for that day.  It was the first time I had ever cancelled.  I called Brenda on the phone and left a message on her machine, apologizing.

After I hung up the phone, I remembered a discussion that I had with Brenda a few months ago.  She was explaining that sometimes, a client loses interest in therapy.  The client starts cancelling.  This happens just as the client is learning important information about himself, and his defense mechanisms want to block his growth.  I called Brenda again to assure her that I was just busy, and that there weren’t any “hidden meanings” to my cancelling therapy.

A few moments later, I remembered my first “informational” session with Brenda.  She told me that unless I canceled 24 hours before the session, I still had to pay.    I immediately sent her an email, acknowledging that I understood that I was still paying for the session, even though I wasn’t showing up.  I suggested that since I am paying for the session anyway, she could use “my time” to browse through my blog, picking up some insights on my personality.

I tried to go back to work with Ron, but I was distracted.  While I talked about my blog with Brenda during previous sessions, I’m not sure Brenda actually read the posts I wrote about HER.  I wrote these posts before I began to take therapy seriously, so the writing is jokey and silly, including the one where I fantasize about making love to my therapist in her comfortable leather “therapy” chair.

I sent another email to Brenda, reminding her that many of the posts mix fantasy and reality, and that she shouldn’t psychoanalyze every single post as “meaning” anything.   I was tempted to ask if she was wearing one those colorful sleeveless knit jersey wrap dresses that she looks so nice in while she sits on her chair with her legs crossed, but then I decided not to, worrying that she would just “analyze” that as well.

All this back and forth with Brenda ended up taking more time and energy than if I had just driven to her office for a therapy session.  And all that angst set me back weeks in my growth as a self-actualized man.

From now on — no more missed therapy sessions.  It is way too traumatic.

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:  Nominee of 2007 Nobel Peace Prize

I just came out of therapy. This is how it went with my therapist, Brenda.

Therapist: Hi, Neil.

Neil: Hello, Brenda.

Therapist: How are you doing?

Neil: I want to show you something on the computer. My blog post today. I wrote it last night.

We both sit by her desktop.

Neil: Friday is my birthday.

Therapist: Happy early birthday.

Neil: This is sort of embarrassing, but I asked readers to send in photos of their bras.

Therapist: I’m reading that.

Neil: Now, I’m thinking the whole thing is just crazy. Why would I ask for women’s bras?

Therapist: Why do you think?

Neil: Maybe I’m just feeling horny and lonely now that I’m moving out soon.

Therapist: Then you wouldn’t just ask for bras hanging on towel racks, would you? It probably is deeper than that.

Neil: Well, what else could it be?

Therapist: Maybe the bra represents… women… blah blah… nurturing… we all… blah blah… need love… you are a man… blah blah… sexuality important… need comfort… mother… and breasts… blah blah…

Neil: Hmmm… if I asked you to show me your bra, would you do it?

Therapist: Sure.

Brenda lifts up her blouse to show me her frilly pink bra.

Neil: Thanks, Brenda.

Therapist: Anytime, Neil. But time’s up!

OK — I’ve heard some grumbling about my bra birthday idea. I don’t want to seem like I am disrespecting women or getting female bloggers in trouble with their husbands. But I do want you to celebrate my birthday with me. And I don’t want the guys to feel left out. So, I’m going to expand my photo idea to things THAT MAKE ME HAPPY.

These include, PHOTOS OF:

1) Bras (with or without the women in them)

2) Bagels

3) NYC Street Scenes

4) Pizza

5) ABBA

6) Books by Charles Dickens

7) Cool Men’s Belts

Hi, Brenda.   If it is Tuesday afternoon, this means that we are just sitting down at your computer and looking at my blog together for the first time.   This was the idea, right?  That you, as my therapist, might better understand me by exploring the world of my writing online. 

(Say hello to Brenda)

Subjects to discuss:  the ups and downs of my relationship with Sophia, being passive/being assertive, being co-dependent, my insecurity and fear of success, and my neurotic need to be people-pleasing.

I have plenty of posts on all of these subjects.

And if you start reading my archives, I want to apologize for the one post a few months ago where I said that an hour therapy session being only fifty minutes was a major rip-off.   I understand that you use those extra ten minutes to write notes (or catch the end of Oprah). 

That was a joke.   I wasn’t being passive-aggressive.   Really.   You’re great.  

I was writing the following to Otir in the comment section of my last post, but I think this is an issue — putting ads on the blog — that would be good to talk with my therapist next week — so I am moving my comment here so I can show her this post when she reads my blog next week at our “special” session.   I know this is a boring issue to many of you (should I put or not put advertising on the blog?) and I have kvetched about this on and off for years, so if you are a long-time reader of this blog, skip this post.  You must hate this topic already.  I know most of you have no idea why this is even an issue, but I’m sure this is not really about stupid blog ads for me, but something bigger — maybe even my uncomfortable attitude about money.  I think my father also had an odd relationship with money and success, but that’s for another post –

Again, it’s not about you and YOUR advertising.  It’s about my neurotic attitude.  In the past, several bloggers, including Leahpeah and Crazy Aunt Purl offered me advice on setting up ads, and I basically ignored them.  So, today, I figured I’ll give some of the new people coming here from the Great Interview Experiment a glimpse of the real me… and why they might want to be wary of adding Citizen of the Month to their blogroll.

I find it very difficult to change some long-held attitudes.  Sophia (if you are a new reader:  she is my separated wife who I live with here in Redondo Beach.   She is always threatening to kick me out soon again, but finds me too irresistible and sexy to actually do it)… she really gave it to me this morning, even calling me a “communist” for not wanting ads, which is a very dirty word coming from someone born in Russia.

The comment to Otir  –

Otir — Sophia had a little “discussion” with me this morning about my constant pooh-poohing of advertising, calling it immature.  “We could always use another hundred dollars to help pay for something like our over-priced health insurance.  It’s not like we’re wealthy people who would refuse money.”  She made me feel a bit ashamed for being such a stickler, like I’m a pampered baby.  

This was a Discussion with a capital D.

I should talk to my therapist about this.  I think this advertising issue reflects on other parts of my life where I fear “selling out,” — where I would rather feel good about my superiority than actually make good money for the family.

Does anyone really think less of Dooce for having ads?  Of course, adding ads to blogs undercuts the whole equality of the blogosphere in my mind.  But the box has already been open for a long time.  And who really cares?  Isn’t each of us here to grab as much as he can get for his family, so they can live the best possible life?  Maybe the whole premise of this Great Interview Experiment is a farce.  Maybe we’re not all somebodys.  If I can make more money than the next guy, I can be a “bigger” somebody!  Isn’t that how most of  people think, anyway?   There is always someone more of a somebody than me!  I shouldn’t be saying we are all somebodies.  Why create a myth?  I should be telling you that I am BETTER than you.  Then you will look towards me for advice, and maybe even pay me one day for the book I will write, giving you more advice.  I should ask people to vote for me as the Best Blogitizer!  I could promote myself and make more money on the blog.  Is that what all these Problogger websites advise us to do?  Isn’t Blogher partly about learning how to monetize your blog?  I’m wondering if other bloggers will actually LIKE me and RESPECT me MORE if I told them that I just bought a new car off of the earnings from my blog?  A hybrid, of course, just to impress the eco-babes.

Anyway, just rambling.  Just torn between two parts of my personality. 

Neil’s Penis:  I don’t see what the problem is Neilochka.  Did you forget why you started this blog?  Not for writing.  Not for money.

Neil:  Flirting with women?

Neil’s Penis:  F**k yeah!   You were also supposed to get laid by a few of them.   I’m still waiting.  What about me and my needs?  Aren’t I part of the family also, you communist pampered baby?!

Make that three parts of my personality.

I’m sitting across from Brenda, my therapist. 

Therapist:  So, how did you feel about i?

Neil:  I was a little upset at her.

Therapist:  So what did you do?

Neil:  I withdrew.  I went into my room and wrote.  That made me feel better.  I think I do that too much.  I did that as a kid a lot.  I was an only child.  I always felt most comfortable just sitting around writing something.

Therapist:  What did you write last night?

Neil:  I wrote a silly blog post titled “If I Was Married to Hellga of American Gladiators.”

Therapist:  Hmm…

Neil:  Although no one reading it would know, I was probably venting about Sophia…

Therapist:  So, writing this blog is an important outlet for you.

Neil:  I suppose so.

Therapist:  Maybe it is a form of therapy for you.  A way for you to think about things.  What do you mostly write about?

Neil:  All different things.  Mostly funny things.  About Sophia.  I’ve even written about you. I mean not real stuff.  Well, sort of real.  I use different names for you, and your image has changed as time has gone on.  In the beginning, I made you into a hot babe therapist.  Once I wrote about being distracted because your legs were showing. 

Therapist:  Really?

Neil:  Yeah.  Silly stuff.  But you do have nice legs.  Jesus, I can’t believe I’m telling my therapist that she has nice legs.  Sorry.

Therapist:  It’s OK.

Neil:  But I’ve also written more serious stuff about therapy, like that I’m not an “adult” yet.

Therapist:  I’ve never done this with another client, but your blog seems a large part of your life.  Your fantasy life.  Do you think it would be a good idea if I read your blog?

Neil:  Oh, I was under the assumption that you had been reading it.  I even wrote about that.

Therapist:  No, I wouldn’t read it unless you asked me too.  Do you want me to?

Neil:  Sure.  Why not?

Therapist:  I don’t know too much about blogs?  How do people find you? 

Neil:  It’s sort of complicated.

Therapist:  Do a lot of people come to the blog?

Neil:  Well, it depends.  Right now I have a lot of people coming because I’m hosting this interview thing where people interview each other, but I have no idea how many of them are actually READING aything I write.

Therapist:  Let’s make next week a special one.  We’ll sit by the computer together and you’ll show me some of what you write on your blog.  I want you to show me things that can best help me understand you better.  Let’s make your blog part of therapy, since it seems to already be like that.  Or print out five posts that you want me to read.

Neil:  OK, but you DO realize I’m going to write about this on my blog tonight?

Therapist:  I have no doubt.

Later today, I’ll be walking into therapy with my head held high.   Yesterday, I took an important step towards being assertive.   I spoke up for myself.  I stood my ground, despite the aggressiveness of my opponent.  

It all started when I entered my local coffee shop, a business named Hawaii Coffee or Aloha Coffee — I’m not entirely sure, because although the coffee shop has been opened for a year and a half, they still haven’t placed a sign outside.  Inside, the walls are brightly decorated with photos of surfers and real ukuleles, all there to remind you that the shop is Hawaiian-themed.  It is a decent-looking place, but they should have saved some of the money they spent on the kitschy ukuleles, and bought a sign instead.

The “Hawaiian” coffee shop have several different types of coffee, including their “famous” Hawaiian Kona coffee which, ironically, is their worst-tasting coffee.  But there are free re-fills and free wi-fi, so I can’t complain too much.

Usually the shop is empty when I come in, but today it was packed — with mothers and kids.  It was Martin Luther King Day, so the schools were closed, and all the mothers were schlepping their kids around as they did their shopping.  All the tables were already taken.  The only available seating was in the corner — two cushioned chairs with a large table in front.  An eleven year old boy was kneeling in front of the table, playing with a toy construction set, similar to the Erector Set I had when I was a boy.   There were dozens of metal pieces strewn all over the table.  His mother was seated elsewhere, gossiping with her friends.

I bought a cup of coffee and headed over to the chairs.

“Are you using this chair?” I asked the Kid, smiling at him.

“Yes,” he quickly answered. 

I made note that he was kneeling on the floor.

“How about this other chair?”  I asked.

“I need that chair, too.”

“Why’s that?”

“I need a lot of SPACE!” he announced.  He went back to playing with his metal, a Donald Trump in the making.  He smashed the pieces together as if he was building a Transformer.

“Screw it,” I said to myself, and decided to go outside.  I would drink my coffee while sitting on top of my car.  Then I stopped.  What the hell was I doing?  This was an eleven year old kid!  I retraced my steps back to the Kid.  I leaned down to face him.

“You’re not using these chairs right now, and you can’t use both of them, so I’m going to take one of them, OK?”

I probably shouldn’t have asked his permission because it just made him more adamant.

“I need the space!”

Let me remind you that during this entire exchange, his mother didn’t even look over once. 

“You can have your space,” I told the annoying Kid.  “But I’m going to take this empty chair and move it over HERE, so I can sit.”

“Fine!”

I slid the chair several feet away from the kid.   I sat and enjoyed my coffee.  The Kid went back to destroying his metallic city.  The mother kept on gabbing.  

I was proud of myself.  I didn’t back down against my young, but worthy, nemesis.

It was a moment to remember. 

Now, who’s going to take me on next?!

P.S. — THE INTERVIEWS:  I’m trying to come up with the best way to proceed with all the interviews you are doing.  I’ll probably create a list showing when each interview is completed.   That way it will be easy for you to check each other out.  I’ll constantly update it.  If you don’t hear from your interviewer by the end of the week, email me and I’ll make the person feel guilty.

I’m also thinking of putting a little link right on my sidebar, so if a new person comes and wants to be interviewed/interview later on, they can add their name to the list.   This way, the process can continue to go on indefinitely.   So, if you are still interested, just add your name to the comment section of the last post.  Who knows?  Maybe by next year, hundreds of bloggers will have interviewed each other in one big ongoing love fest.  You gotta dream! 

A Year Ago on Citizen of the Month:   Why I Write

Therapy was very emotional this week.  I didn’t cry, but I almost did. We weren’t even talking about anything significant.  I was explaining to her about some writing project.  I was having some trouble with the plot. It was difficult to concentrate in the therapist’s office.  She was wearing a pretty dress, and she had sexy legs, and I felt almost too comfortable sitting calmly with a centered human being who was listening to me and was saying that it was OK for me to feel anxious about certain things.  It all felt very intimate and spiritual, and I had quick glimpses in my mind of taking the therapist on the couch, but in a nice, loving way, to thank her for being so kind.  I know I write these sex thoughts too much on this blog, but I’m only trying to be honest here.  These were not sordid thoughts.  These were nice and innocent thoughts.

I took a breath and almost cried.

“What are you thinking?”

“I just feel emotional.”

“Emotional, in what way?”

“I can’t explain it. I feel something overwhelming, but I don’t know what it is.  But it also makes me laugh, because I’m sitting in a therapist’s office, and I’ve seen this movie so many times, and I’m stepping away from myself and watching this scene, knowing that if this was a bad movie, I would break down now and remember how my mother used to hit me with metal hangers.”

“Did something ever happen with your mother?”

I laughed.

“Nah.  Those metal hangers were precious in our house for hanging up clothes.  But I had my mother on the phone before as I was driving to the supermarket, and I said I would call her back in two minutes, and that was four hours ago.  I need to remember to call her back.”

(sorry, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow)

QUICK CUT to new topic:

I had no intention to write about therapy.  I wanted to discuss my last post.  I read it over and it seemed too jokey.  There was a reason for posting it, which has nothing to do with Blog Awards, even though I titled it Blog Awards.  It has to do with insecurity, something we all have in differing degrees.

The seeds to the post grew from an email I received a month ago.  I never responded to it, because I wasn’t sure how to answer, but I kept the message on a notepad on my desktop, waiting for a inspirational way to reply.

Here it is.   I hope the author doesn’t mind.

Good morning! Neil!

How are you?

I’ve enjoyed reading your blog for the past year - and I was delighted that you had my link on your blogroll…. but suddenly it’s not there anymore? Is there some reason why?

I had your link a while ago… and then moved it to another category. After I realized I was replaced by other fancier blogs on your blogroll… I guess I was jealous and removed yours as well… I want to apologize for acting so juvenile. I would greatly appreciate a critique of how my blog had failed to engage you. Please be gentle.

It would be easy to chuckle at the silliness of this writer’s email, but, in all honesty, I find this person brave for sending it to me.   At first I did laugh.  A critique?  Fancier blogs?  Does this writer actually think that I have a game plan here on Citizen of the Month?

Surprisingly, the email moved me.  It makes me feel emotional, much as I did in the therapist’s office — except for the sexy legs part, of course. We’re all so insecure about so many unimportant things. I know I can be.   Maybe not so much about blogging, but certainly with other parts of my life.

I’ll try to be more thoughtful of the feelings of others.

Today’s blog post was nixed by Sophia. She thought it was too personal. I’m respectful of that. She is absolutely amazing. She “allows” me to write pretty much anything I want. Of course, being a tinge passive-aggressive, I wanted to make sure that my artistic freedom was still intact.

Sophia: You need to check with me first before you write anything personal about ME.

Neil: Do you mean WRITE or PUBLISH?

Sophia: Write.

Neil: Well, I appreciate what you are saying, and I respect it, but you can’t tell me WHAT not to write. I can write anything I want about you.

Sophia: No, you can’t.

Neil: Yes, I can. I just can’t PUBLISH it. But I can write it.

Sophia: Well, I don’t want you to write it.

Neil: Sorry. I’m in therapy now. I know my rights. If I want to write that you are, say — a midget, I can write it. As long as I don’t show it to anyone.

Sophia: But I’m not a midget.  I’m not even short.  You can’t write it.

Neil: I can write it. Even if you aren’t.

Sophia: I’ll sue you.

Neil: You can’t sue me for writing it. You can sue me for publishing it. But I can write, “Sophia’s a midget” all day long if I want — a thousand times in my own Microsoft Word — and you can’t do anything about it.

Sophia: How about this?

Sophia hits me on the head with the newspaper. Conversation over.

P.S.. Just for the record, Sophia isn’t a midget, but I have no problem saying it in the privacy of my own home — when Sophia isn’t here.

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?