girls

                So I finally gave in to the hype and watched the first season of “Girls.” Not because I wanted to, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a teensy bit curious, but because those DVD’s a friend shoved at me looked a hell of a lot better than my microeconomics objectives. “One episode,” I thought as I pressed play, “Then I’ll do my homework.”

                One episode turned into five because the HBO series is just that good. I have to admit, I was a cynic. I had seen Lena Dunham at the Golden Globes where she took home multiple statues. She and her cast of ladies looked dazed on the red carpet as they were interviewed by E!  and none of them looked like stars to me. My dislike of them wasn’t fair but it was impossible to avoid. You see, I’m a die-hard “Sex and the City” fan and this show seemed like its ugly stepsister. Just another show about well-off sophisticates in fabulous NYC. I’d seen it.  

Fast forward to five days ago when my cynicism turned to pleasant surprise when it wasn’t the rip-off I had anticipated. For one, Dunham, the brain behind the gritty show, has created relatable characters. These girls aren’t walking around on Louise Vuitton’s red soles and carrying Gucci on their arms. They wear ragged tee-shirts and underwear to bed and their eye makeup is questionable. They live in tiny apartments with second-hand furniture that doesn’t match.  Some of them can’t pay their bills and are all of them are emotional wrecks. They take the subway.

                Dunham plays Hannah, a lost dreamer who looks for acceptance in all the wrong places. Narcissistic and self-involved, her innumerable character flaws become glaringly obvious as the series unfolds. She sleeps with the wrong men and denies reality as she gets entangled in an emotionally abusive relationship while trying to finish her book.  As the bills pile up and her relationship with her roommate, played by Allison Michaels, becomes increasingly strained, the show shows the fragile nature of friendship. There’s a lot of serious stuff going on from STD’s to homosexuality but Dunham and her team of writers keep the tone light with hilarious quips and clever dialogue. Dunham holds nothing back as she embraces her imperfections by  making them a central component of the show. Her weight, oily skin, flat chest, and masculine features are frequent topics of conversation and the butt of many jokes. As for the woman behind the television screen, it is impossible to differentiate between Dunham the writer/producer and the character she plays because her acting skills are flawless as she keeps the emotion raw, though somehow, she never over-does it.

 “Girls” has a unique cast of supporting characters, most notably Shoshanna, played by Zosia Mamet. Shoshanna produces laughs with her nervous babbling and wannabe valley girl demeanor. An innocent girl who wishes she wasn’t, Shoshanna is the definition of awkward and hates herself for it. Though Mamet’s character is relatively insignificant in terms of plot development and at times it is not clear how she knows the other characters, she brings some of the biggest laughs of the first season when, in episode seven, she accidentally smokes crack because she thought it was pot. The irony of the virginal girl smoking crack at a rave where she is dressed like a school girl in silver eye shadow cannot be missed.

Clever writing aside, “Girls” explores the harsh reality of dreaming big while living in the real world. Unlike “Sex and the City” where the primary characters are successful, these new girls struggle to start their lives. Some realize their life may not be what they thought while others refuse to give up on their dreams. The characters fight to figure out the world and while the lessons imparted in the first season could easily become cliché, they don’t because the script is so good that every time somebody makes a mistake you can’t help but cringe out of sympathy as you learn along with them. Over the course of ten episodes you might get a sinking feeling in your stomach and you’ll likely cry. I am certain you’ll laugh. However you react, you’ll know you’ve stumbled upon something great because the best testament to good work is how it makes you feel and “Girls” arouses a kaleidoscope of emotions while making you think at the same time.



an expert on nothing except.....

                I wouldn’t call myself an authority on anything. I majored in psychology for two years but I gave it up when I learned about Melanie Klein's outrageous theories of human development (that she hypothesized while battling the demons of a six year psychotic state). I’m a good cook but my trial and error approach is not the fine work of a skilled chef. I’ve read a lot of books about crime but I don’t have the courage to be a detective and while I’ve flown frequently I still can’t get through TSA without holding up the line. I am obsessed with nutrition but I can’t explain to you the chemistry that makes monounsaturated fat so good for you (or even if chemistry would explain it, it might be biology…) and I can’t construct a workout regimen for a woman who wants to lose weight in her thighs.

                Really, I should feel pretty bad about myself. I’m halfway educated on the mind, a hit-or-miss cook, and a crime junkie who can’t even make it through airport security. I’ve spent years in school for a wide range of superficial knowledge on everything from economics to statistics to literature but half the time I don’t know what I’m talking about at all. And here is where my expertise comes in, the place I really shine.

                Now this isn’t something to be proud of. Of course I wish I could tell you all about how eating protein and calcium together stimulates the metabolism (or whatever. That topic may be made up because it is very likely eating protein and calcium together is detrimental to your metabolism. There is also the distinct possibility one has nothing to do with the other) but I can’t. I can’t tell you about that or how potatoes are farmed or how we keep coming up with different breeds of genetically engineered miniature dogs. Like I said, I’m not an expert on anything. What I can tell you is how to act like you know what you’re talking about even when you don’t.

                There are a lot of scenarios where you might be called upon to reach out of your comfort zone and personal areas of “expertise.” The most obvious and easiest to maneuver through is at school when you have to write a paper about something you know nothing about. It’s simple. Do your research, cite your sources, and use spell check.

                It gets more confusing when you’re put on the spot. You get asked a question in class and people are staring at you. You don’t know why the Protestant Reformation had such an impact on the lower class, all you know is that Martin Luther guy was like a cult leader. But here you are, forced to say something. In a confident voice repeat the question back. This allows you to stall for time, giving you ten to fifteen solid seconds to formulate your answer. Most importantly, it allows you to avoid that awkward pause that screams I don’t have a clue!!!  During this time think about everything you know about the topic. Use key words in the question to guide you. In this example the term “reformation” is the ticket to forming an answer without a lot of facts. Think about what you know about reform, the Catholic church, and England in general. With a smile, speak with authority and confidence, always remembering if you don’t know the answer it’s best to keep it short and sweet.

If you can’t even manage an educated guess it may be best to switch topics. You know all about Martin Luther and have a strong opinion about his cult-like ways but of course, this theory has left you without any time to explore the religious significance of the Protestant Reformation. While you were thinking about the blood and gore and the Thirty Year War you forgot what everyone was fighting about and you definitely don’t know anything about the lower class, except that they were called peasants. I’m not gonna lie, it’s a risk trying to steer the discussion in a different direction but I’m taking a gamble and betting your teacher is happy as long as people are talking about anything in class (maybe not anything...) . That being said, here’s how you do it. Repeat the question like we did before. Keep your pace even and never once think about letting your voice shake. Address the part of the question you know the most about and talk briefly (ten seconds, tops) about that before you begin talking about the closely related subject you know (something) about. Feel free to end your spiel with a question of your own that expands on the topic. At that point, everybody will have forgotten the original subject and your teacher will be thrilled by your eager participation. You really can’t go wrong.

Finally, one last piece of advice and though I’m not an authority on anything, I hope you listen to this. If you really, really, really don’t know the answer and you can’t pull together the words to pretend you do, just say so and be attentive when the answer is presented to you. Nobody can fault you for being honest and who knows everything anyways?

the glass castle

                Its cover, plain white with an uninteresting blue border, does nothing to draw the eye of those browsing the shelves of the bookstore on Saturday afternoon. I bought it for fifty cents at a yard sale and can honestly say if it hadn’t been so cheap I never would have read “The Glass Castle” by Jeannette Walls.

                I can also say if I hadn’t picked it up out of a cluttered cardboard box that summer day I would have missed out. Walls’s words are mesmerizing; they suck you in as she makes you laugh and cry at the same time. They evoke anger and frustration as well as hope. I traded Friday night dinner and drinks to lie in bed and read the vivid descriptions of her cursed childhood. The next morning I was exhausted and hit my snooze button three times before dragging myself up out of bed for work because I couldn’t go to bed without knowing the end.

So what is this book with the boring cover about? It’s a memoir that begins in Walls’s childhood and follows her as she achieves success despite all odds. Of course, this sounds unoriginal but the Walls family is so unique that the reader can’t help but be simultaneously intrigued by their utter dysfunction and envious of their love. One part hilarious, one part disturbing, and two parts shocking, this is a story so good that it has to be true because nobody could make it up.

One the perimeter of the story lie problems that plague many. Alcoholism, homelessness, and mental illness all play a role in “The Glass Castle” making it relatable, though almost everyone who reads it will be thankful for their own lives as they realize they didn’t have it that bad after all. If you’re thinking the book sounds pretty miserable, it is.  At the same time, it is inspiring, hopeful, and thought-provoking.  Without a doubt, the reader will want to draw from Walls’s strength and drink in her depth. Walls writes with certainty and her descriptions are perfect. Her storytelling ability is unmatched as she knows how to balance heavy topics and humor but it is her uncanny ability for forgiveness, acceptance, and love that make “The Glass Castle” worth reading again and again.

pills pills and more pills

                It was seven pm and the air was fresh with the excitement of early summer. School was out for the year and it was his tenth birthday. The party had been earlier that day and now everyone was home. Mike was sitting on the front porch in his usual position. Elbows on his knees, hands crossed in front of him, signature frown on his face. Harley sat next to him, with his elbows on his knees and his hands crossed in front of him. With a dazed smile that didn’t match the tone of his voice he whined,”Daddyyy, I have to take my meds.” Mike glanced at his watch and ignored his request. Harley’s voice grew to a high-pitched screech. “Daddyyyyy….” He pulled at Mike’s arm as he yelled, “I HAVE TO TAKE MY MEDS!!!” and like clockwork, the evening ritual of pill-popping and drool-induced sleep began before the sun even set.

                My younger brother Harley is just one out of the 2.7 million American youth between the age of 4 and 17 who is medicated for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Over the course of his young life he has been prescribed more medications than most thirty year old adults. Various types of Ritalin, Adderall, and Concerta have graced the medicine cabinet in my family’s home along with sleeping pills, allergy medicine, mood stabilizers, and antidepressants. Whenever one wouldn’t work the doctor would move on to another, never once thinking to re-evaluate his diagnosis. Through trial and error, the doctor would find a cocktail of pills that suppressed Harley’s outbursts, confusion, and meltdowns and when they stopped working she upped the dose or added the newest miracle pill to the mix.

                “Hey buddy,” I said, groggy as I opened my eyes. He was standing in the corner of the room, back to me. In the dark I could just make out his shadow and nothing more. “What’s up?” He didn’t respond. Instead, Harley pulled down his pants and proceeded to pee on my bedroom floor, in a dead sleep. The next day he didn’t remember his surprise bathroom break and Mike installed a lock on his bedroom door.

                He came home from school one afternoon and kicked the door open. Throwing his coat on the floor, he scowled at me before he ran upstairs. I chalked it up to just another one of his moods until our brother told me that they had been weighed in gym class that day. My stomach sank as I imagined his embarrassment when it was his turn. He didn’t wear baggy tee-shirts and jogging pants every day because they were cool and he knew it wasn’t normal for kids his age to be on strict diets. He knew he was different and he was beginning to understand why.

                It’s impossible to measure the benefits of something when all the good comes at a high price.  For a stable mood Harley gained weight and sacrificed a genuine smile and the light in his eyes. In order to focus he gave up sleep. To capture the sleep that evaded him, my brother gave up evening bike rides and ice cream, baseball and game nights.

                Does Harley value stability, focus, and sleep? I don’t know because I never asked him and nobody else did either. He was six when he took his first pill and my mother was exhausted. Fed up with his incessant crying and the daily outbursts, she did what she had to do to make her life easier. A short-term solution for a lifelong problem, behavioral therapy has never been utilized though one would think it would be the first option for families with challenging children. Not only would behavioral therapy change patterns of thinking in the long-term, it can correct bad habits before they become too ingrained. Impressionable children learn coping skills and families can learn together how to manage ADHD with charts and incentives for the child to behave. At six, drugs should not be the first option but a last resort.

                There’s little emotion in his voice when he speaks. It’s weird to hear him talk because his voice is changing; it cracks sometimes and I try not to say anything about it because I don’t want to embarrass him. He’s fourteen, a freshman in high school but he’s still Harley to me, wearing those jogging pants and a baggy tee-shirt that falls to his knees.

 Reference

“Increasing Prevalence of Parent-Reported Attention –Deficit / Hyperactivity Disorder Among Children ---United States, 2003 and 2007” (12 Nov 2010). Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report. Retrieved from: http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/mm5944a3.htm?s_cid=mm5944a3_w