Tsubject: Tsunami

I'm writing this in response to recent posts by my esteemed colleagues, Hockey Dino and Intense Auburn. In short, their posts and discussion were addressing media coverage of the catastrophic earthquake and resulting tsunami in Japan. I encourage you to check them both out before reading further (click on the links above).

The crux of the debate seems to be the scope and prominence of the human interest side of the media's coverage. Too much? Too little? Just right? I find myself to be a bit of a centrist in this discussion.

First and foremost, I want the hard news. How big was the quake? What's the situation with the nuclear reactors? How many killed? How high were the waves? And being a visual person, I want pictures....lots of them. Not being morbid...it's just that the uncontrollable forces of Nature are both fascinating and terrifying to me. And in this instance, I don't think that the hard news part of the story can actually be sensationalized...the facts, statistics, and scope of the disaster speak for themselves.

That being said, I also believe that a certain amount of human interest reporting is not only germane but also necessary to balanced reporting of any natural or man-made disaster. And here's why I say that: We are all human...one big family, no matter where we live. In many cases seeing others trying to deal with the loss of loved ones and belongings can inspire us to be better people. We can be reminded of what is really important and how blessed we are. Equally as important, and on a practical note, telling the story of the suffering inspires people to donate money to the Red Cross and many other organizations that are providing aid and comfort to the survivors.

Here's my idea of appropriate human interest reporting: the story of the 60-year old man who was found 16 kilometers off of the coast, clinging to the roof of his house. Miraculous. Incredible. Choose your own adjective. Very newsworthy. And appropriate for reporting.

What is not appropriate? Shoving microphones under peoples' noses...people who are grieving the loss of everything they owned...and maybe the loss of someone or everyone they loved. This is not news. Whether it's tornado victims in Kansas, hurricane victims in Louisiana, forest fire victims in California, or tsunami/earthquake victims in Japan or Indonesia, raw grief is raw grief. Allow these people the chance to grieve privately. We don't need to see it close-up to understand it. I'm reminded of the lyrics to Don Henley's great song "Dirty Laundry":

"The bubbleheaded bleach-blonde

Comes on at 5

She can tell you 'bout the plane crash

With a gleam in her eye

It's interesting when people die

Give us dirty laundry

Can we film the operation?

Is the head dead yet?

You know the boys in the news room

Got a running bet

Get the widow on the set

We need dirty laundry"

Also not appropriate: interviewing anyone who has or ever had a relative in or near Japan. This is where the media train leaves the tracks in a big way. No one cares. Just report the freakin' news.

Anyhow, just throwing my two-cents worth in on the subject. Not saying I'm right or anything, just have an opinion like everyone else. I will say one thing about the Japanese people. They truly live out their principle of "Gaman". Loosely translated, this means to handle whatever comes your way with grace and to be patient. And if you've watched much of the coverage, you've seen this principle at work. People conducting themselves with great dignity in the face of overwhelming sadness. Cars backed up for miles to buy gasoline and not a single honking horn. Nobody outside of their cars. No fights. Maybe we could take some pointers....

Random Musings

Anyone who thinks that laughter is the best medicine has never taken Xanax.

I think it's time for a new computer. The IP address on this one is 00.000.000.014.

Favorite euphemisms of the week:

For the guys: "Shakin' hands with shorty"

For the girls: "Ya-ya'ing the sisterhood"

Can vampires safely use tanning beds? Just curious.

Guess I'm pretty tragically unhip. I thought WikiLeaks was a bladder-control problem.

I think that Lady Gaga should do some shows with the Goo Goo Dolls. Who could stay away from a Goo Goo Gaga tour?

I watched Alice in Wonderland the other day. I giggled every time someone said "bandersnatch".

Finally watched Twilight-New Moon the other day (yeah, I'm a little behind the times). About 20 minutes into this flick I found myself hoping that some fell creature, be it a vampire, a werewolf, or maybe even Lindsay Lohan, would appear and rip Bella limb from limb and devour her remains. Holy angst-fest! Someone please slap this beeyotch! Thankfully the movie did redeem itself somewhat toward the end.

Well friends, enough random musings for now. I'm laid up with a pinched nerve situation in my neck. No big deal, just some pain and a pretty much useless left hand. Taking some steroids, hopefully they will bring some healing. Much love to you all....

REALIZATIONS

We all have times in our lives when something or maybe several things suddenly become clear to us. Some call them epiphanies. Others may refer to them as awakenings. I prefer the term realizations. Not as dramatic, I'll admit. More utilitarian, less flowery.

I made a deal with myself when I started this blog, the bastard child of The Prodigal Glenn, that I hope to abide by. I passed two resolutions in the Congress of my brain: first, that I would never blog just for the sake of blogging, but only when I had something humorous or meaningful (or maybe both) to say; and second, I vowed never to blog while hyper-emotional, whether on a manic high or a depressive low. It was a close vote, mind you. Four of the voices in my head voted yes, two voted no, and two didn't bother to show up.

My realization occurred last night, here in the solitude of my room. Sitting here in my own little world, my back to the television, playing computer solitaire. Listening to repeats of Law & Order. I can't tolerate silence these days. I must have noise. Being stuck alone with my thoughts and no distractions is terrifying. Long story short, the TV is on 24/7.

Miracle of miracles, up popped an episode of Law & Order that I had never seen (or heard) before. I didn't think that such a thing existed. But it was the subject matter of the episode that drew me in. The plot concerned a young journalist/writer afflicted with dysphoric mania, which is a close cousin of my own illness, bipolar disorder, type II.

When you actually look at the symptomology of the two mental deficits, there is not a great deal of difference, especially for someone like me who has a lot of mixed episodes. This poor gent was a very gifted and engaging writer, full of personality and life at times. And also a horribly depressed problem drinker/crystal meth addict who had brought a great deal of unhappiness to his family and friends with his escapades. Either a ray of sunshine or a dark thunderstorm. Sometimes both at various times during the same day. Hmmmm....did this remind me of anyone (minus the crystal meth, of course)?

Anyhow, long story short, this lad wanted to kill himself and enlisted the help of his girlfriend and his brother to assist him. A bunch of Xanax, a bathtub, then a legal controversy. Now don't panic, I'm not there right now. My realization, my moment of truth, came while listening to other characters on the show discuss his illness, his state of mind, and how he came to be this way. Namely, that it was an organic brain condition. That he did not wish to be this way. And that sometimes the pain of living with the illness was just too much to bear. Tears flooded my eyes several times during the show.

And a light bulb slowly sparked and began to glow in the awful darkness of my mind.

Through all these years, I have been fighting two battles. One against the ravages of bipolar disorder. And the other against myself. For although I have intellectually known that bipolar disorder is an illness, no different than my thyroid cancer, I have treated myself as being at fault for having it. I have tortured myself endlessly. Loathed my existence. Cursed God for creating me. Imprisoned myself in this room in the belief that no one out there really wants to see me anyway. Isolated myself from those who want to unconditionally love and help me without judgment. Despaired of living to the point where I have sought to escape this mortal coil. Ended up in psychiatric wards where I have seen the most god-awful sights.

In short, I have been fighting a two-front battle. And I was always defeated before the first shot was fired.

Fighting something like bipolar disorder is a daunting task in and of itself. I have said it before, and I'll say it again, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy. Not for a single moment.

What was my realization? That I'm not a bad person. I can be funny, charming, and a real hoot to be around sometimes. At other times I can be very quiet and somber. And at other times I can be a holy terror, a dark tempest throwing lightning bolts of unhappiness and hurt in all directions. But in all of these states, I'm still a good person. A good person with a bad disease. A good person who sometimes does stupid things and says hurtful things.

Am I saying "Well, nothing is ever my fault, you just need to deal with me"? Heck no. I think of the apostle Paul, who said in the book of Romans, "Shall we continue to sin that grace may abound?...God forbid!". I don't want to use my mental deficit as an excuse or a crutch. I want to endeavor to deal with it more effectively. My realization is simply this...I will no longer condemn myself, or view myself as a lesser human being, because I have a mental illness. I'm going to accept myself as God made me.

Might not seem like much to you. But is sure is to me. And it's having that simple knowledge make the journey from my head to my heart that makes a world of difference. Maybe you're struggling with something today. Maybe depression, maybe something totally different. Something not at all your fault, but yet you beat yourself up mercilessly about it day in and day out. Pause for a moment and accept yourself. Work on loving yourself and forgiving yourself. That's what I'm going to be doing from here on in. If I can at least face life's battles and be on my own side for a change, maybe I'll do better.

Okay, so this wasn't as dramatic as "Holy crap! Here comes Moses down off of Mount Sinai! His hair's on fire and he has a smoking iPad in each hand!" (containing the Ten Tweetmandments, of course). I'm not surrounded by the the Shekinah Glory or anything. I haven't parted any bodies of water nor have I walked on any.

It was just a very comforting, soothing moment for me. As if someone wrapped a soft, warm blanket around my shoulders and whispered in my ear, "Carry on my wayward son. There'll be peace when you are done". Maybe God still loves me after all.